The clouds were clearing. Sunlight currently ruled the sky but it had begun its daily retreat. The unmarked sedan made its way down the dusty trail to Rogelio’s old dusty home. It veered a little off the trail to let an ambulance pass by. Mexican Police trucks and another ambulance sat silent and still in front of the old home. Jonah’s truck was now missing. The remaining ambulance should have been idling at least, but with no one left to save, there was no need to waste the fuel. The sedan came to a stop among the other trucks when paramedics were wheeling out a lifeless body covered by a sheet.
Texas Ranger Roy Paulson stepped out of the car and waited for the body to pass before walking into the house. The uneven ground jostled the gurney and a woman’s hand slipped out from the side. The sun faded wood on the mostly covered front porch creaked under his boots. He’d look like the classic image of a Ranger even without a badge being displayed. The badge was currently in his pocket and his gun was back in the car. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Mexican Federal Agent Juan Diego Elizondo was processing the scene when Paulson walked into the house. Unlike the other police on the scene, he wore plain cloths and his badge hung from a chain around his neck. He didn’t look as hard edged as the Ranger, but he was no less competent at his job. His face showed the frustration of always being one step behind the cartels in a growing war zone.
“Como estas, JD?” said Paulson.
He spoke Spanish fairly well, albeit with an American accent. Agent Elizondo turned around and smiled when he saw the face of his old friend. They’d crossed paths many times in the past, often unofficially helping each other on tough cases. Mutual respect had turned into friendship.
“Roy? The hell are you doing here?” asked Elizondo, stretching out his hand for a shake.
His English was better than Paulson’s Spanish. Paulson gladly shook the hand of his longtime friend.
“Business. I was supposed to have a meeting... here,” he said, looking around the living room.
Elizondo’s smile faded. Friends though they were, Paulson had a habit of snooping around without telling anyone.
“Meeting? Hijo de la… Do I want to know?” he asked.
Paulson shrugged.
“Probably not,” replied the Ranger.
“Roy. You are going to get yourself in a lot of trouble one of these days,” said Elizondo.
The Federale shook his head and looked down at the blood on the floor. Against his better judgment Elizondo decided to not question his friend’s legal authority to be here. Again.
“Fortunately you were late for the party or we might have been scraping you off the floor too,” said Elizondo.
“Yeah, lucky,” said Paulson, looking somber. “A lawyer was supposed to be here too. His name is Jonah Olivares.”
Elizondo rubbed his chin as a uniformed officer squeezed by.
“He was here. You missed him in the ambulance heading out. He’s lucky to be alive,” said Elizondo.
Paulson nodded in agreement on the minor blessing.
“Was that a woman’s body being carried out?” asked Paulson.
“It was. Looks like she was pregnant too,” replied Elizondo.
“Was?” asked the Ranger.
Elizondo moved his open hand over his stomach in a cutting motion and then waved it away.
“Baby gone?” asked Paulson
“Yup,” was the reply.
Paulson was shaking his head when another uniformed officer walked up to Elizondo and whispered something into his ear. Elizondo whispered something back and the officer waked off.
“Was she local?” asked Paulson.
“I don’t think so. Her cloths were too new,” said Elizondo.
“Did she have any ID?” Paulson asked.
“Nope. It was probably taken. We only found Jonah’s wallet and it was completely cleaned out except for his ID,” said Elizondo.
“Huh. She may be Jonah’s fiancé. She was also lawyer. And she was pregnant,” said Paulson.
Juan took a notebook out of his pocket and began writing.
“What was her name?” he asked.
“Ximena Mendes,” replied Paulson.
“U.S. citizen?” asked Elizondo.
“Yeah. She’d have a Texas license too. If you find it,” said Paulson.
Elizondo wrote the name in his notebook along with a few notes and put it back in his pocket.
“I’ll get the fingerprints sent to your office ASAP. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a hit on her ID being used by someone. Maybe,” he said.
“Thanks, JD,” said Paulson.
The Ranger looked down at the blood stained floor. A policeman was taking pictures of the drying blood. There was a lot of it. Paulson looked back up at his friend.
“Did you find the old man?” asked Paulson.
Juan motioned to the bloody streaks on the floor leading to another room.
“What’s left of him. We’re waiting on another ambulance so we can take away the leftovers,” he replied.
“Christ. What did they do to him?” asked Paulson.
“Took his skull and spine,” replied Elizondo.
The Ranger sighed in frustration.
“Great. We startin’ to get the satanic crap going again?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” replied Elizondo, sounding equally frustrated. “We’ve had that Santa Muerte stuff for a while now, but nothing like this since that University of Texas kid back in 89',”
Another policeman walked by.
“Perdoname,” he said to Paulson and Elizondo.
“You think this is gonna be like Matamoros all over again?” Paulson asked.
“Dios espero que no,” replied Elizondo. “The cartels are bad enough without involving all that Satanic black magic shit.”
“Satan is always involved, my friend,” said Paulson
Elizondo nodded.
“Seems so. So is there anything I should know about this meeting?” he asked the Ranger.
Roy felt some guilt for not including his old friend on the meeting. Maybe Elizondo already knew. Maybe not. But if this brutality was connected to a new group making moves, Paulson decided the Federales should be informed.
“The old man was supposed to tell me something about the leader of the new cartel in charge of the area. Supposed to be a woman.” he said.
“Yeah, I've heard something similar,” replied the Federale.
Paulson had another piece of information. Things were getting bad and he needed all the help he could get.
“JD, I got a partial name. Could be fake. Maybe you can confirm, maybe not. Maybe it will help point you in the right direction,” said Paulson.
“You been holding out on me Roy?” asked Elizondo.
Paulson didn’t want to say that he didn’t trust information with Mexican law enforcement. They were not all corrupt, but you could never tell when and where a well-placed cartel source could hear something. He knew he could trust his friend at least. Paulson pulled out his own notebook and wrote a name, and passed it to Elizondo.
“Could just be an alias,” said Paulson.
Elizondo looked at the name and put the paper in his pocket. The Federale looked suddenly nervous. Paulson could tell that his friend had heard the name. To Paulson, this meant that things were indeed getting very bad here.
“Did this come from the old man?” asked Elizondo.
“It did. He didn’t want to tell me any more than that over the phone,” said Paulson.
“Do you know if the lawyers knew anything else?” asked Elizondo.
“Not that I know of,” said Paulson.
Elizondo nodded and motioned to Paulson to follow him into what looked like a spare bedroom. Elizondo closed the door and whispered.
“The name I’ve heard is Señora Ecsed. I don’t know if it’s her real name but that is all I know,” he said.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSkUGXWtRyf
“Ecsed doesn’t sound Spanish,” said Paulson.
Elizondo shrugged.
“Apparently she had eyes and ears everywhere. Be careful Roy,” said Elizondo.
Ranger Paulson decided to leave before he got his friend further into a bad situation. They walked back into the living room.
“Hopefully we can get a handle on whatever this is before things get out of hand. I have to head back. Think you can be free to meet up in a few days?” asked Paulson.
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” said Elizondo.
The Ranger turned around and walked to the front door. He paused before he stepped out the door.
“Hey JD?” asked Paulson.
“Yeah?” replied Elizondo.
“You be careful too,” said Paulson.
Further out, miles into the scrubland, near the foot of a mountain, sat an old Spanish mission. It was built in a bad location at the advice of a disgraced priest who died during an exorcism he was the subject of. Many believed the place to be evil and haunted. It sat abandoned since not long after its completion. It was now home to the leader of the Rio Blanca Cartel. The freshly dug basement space was finished out to resemble the rest of the old mission. The bodies of those who built this expansion lay hidden behind the stone walls.
A simple folding chair sat in the middle of the room, facing a wooden throne. A woman in her twenties was sitting on the chair with her legs tied to it and her hands tied to her sides. Sitting on the woman’s lap, straddling her, was the owner of the throne and leader of the cartel. A bloody knife lay on the floor. Señora Ecsed’s mouth was covering the woman’s neck. Blood escaped her lips and stained the cloths of the woman tied to the chair. She made noises like a starving person eating the finest meal she’d ever served.
Watching over was Guadalupe Ojeda, her chief lieutenant. Ojo, as he was known, smiled as he watched his master feed. His nickname came from having informants seemingly everywhere so people believed he always had an eye on you. He was very skilled at finding information. He was arrogant and went nowhere without a cigar in hand. He was in awe of Señora Ecsed and revered her. He believed her to be the embodiment of Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte, the Goddess of Holy Death here on Earth. He loved her and longed to be with her, but would never dare touch her in that way because he was just a lowly mortal servant, unfit to be the companion of a goddess. Her vanity enjoyed the longing and devotion that would never be requited. She also valued his loyalty and intelligence. Without her Ojo, she would not have come to understand the people of this land so fast. But as useful as he was, Ojo was still a mortal man and Señora Ecsed could dispose of him if the mood suited her. Ojo knew this and counted himself blessed to be in her presence.
The skin of the woman tied to the chair had become pale and her breathing shallow. She had a far off look in her eyes as her heart beat faded. La Señora Talia Ecsed raised her head briefly to take a breath.
“Another!” she called out before returning her lips to the wound on the woman's neck.
Another of her servants, a lesser one who Ojo even struggled to remember his name, entered the room through the large doors that opened to the stairs leading to the chapel above. He walked slowly and nervously into the presence of his master. Ojo turned around and put a hand on the man’s chest.
“Why don’t you have another girl?” asked Ojo.
“Tenemos una problema,” said the man, looking at Ojo.
“What problem?” asked Señora Ecsed.
The man jumped in fright as she was now right next to him when she spoke. No one saw her get off the chair. Ojo didn’t react. He was used to the fast movements of his goddess.
“Señora Ecsed asked you a question,” said Ojo.
She did not speak Spanish. Though she knew how to speak it, it was the language of the lowly people here who would be her servants and therefore she would not sully her lips. Talia Ecsed wished she could speak her native tongue but decided English was good enough to show superiority over these people and she did not want to give away a clue to her origin.
The man nervously looked back between Ojo and Señora Ecsed who was clothed in a black cloak. Her face was partially covered by the hood, but her mouth was visible. Blood dripped from her chin.
“Perdoname, Señora Ecsed. Pero... she was the last one in her twenties. Y we don’t have any more teenagers either,” said the man.
He found a bloody hand firmly gripped around his neck, squeezing the life out of him.
“I hope you have a solution,” said Ojo.
Señora Ecsed loosed her grip on his throat enough for him to speak.
“Si… Si, si. We have a couple more being brought in and more are being sourced from the area,” he said.
“I’m thirsty now,” she replied.
“You don’t want your daughters on the menu, do you?” asked Ojo.
“No! No, señora. We have another one here. But she’s thirty two,” said the man.
“Is she pretty?” asked Señora Ecsed.
“She is very beautiful. Muy hermosa,” said the man.
She released her grip on his neck.
“You should have led with that. She will have to do. Send her down,” said Talia.
The man ran out of the room. She began licking her fingers and Ojo laughed.
“My Ojo. I can feel her,” she said.
“The lawyer?” he asked.
“Yes. Her spirit stirs. It won’t be much longer,” said Señora Ecsed.
Ojo knelt at her feet and she presented her bloody right hand. He kissed her hand graciously.
“Mi señora, mi amor, you truly are La Muerte,” said Ojo.
She placed her left hand on his head to show appreciation for his service and walked to her throne, smiling.
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