The Holy Death

Chapter 22

The old, beat-up Hughes 500 touched down in the courtyard of the villa of the Santa Muerte, a large, multi-story Spanish-style mansion surrounded by a moderate adobe wall. The courtyard was lush and green, fed by a sprinkler system with water piped in from hundreds of miles away. In the center of a yard was a fountain, a definite show of excess within this hot and dry desert, a statue of the original Santa Muerte herself on a pedestal in its center. On the south side, opposite the courtyard of the massive villa, was a small plaza de toros, a traditional Spanish-style bullfighting arena. The helicopter landed gently on the manicured green lawn, well away from the fountain or any other structures. Cressida climbed out, dragging Doug with her. When they were a brief distance away, the helicopter quickly ascended, its pilot not wanting to remain at that mansion any longer than he needed.

"Well, he was in a hurry," Doug said. "Looks like there's no one to greet us!"

So it seemed. No one had come forth from the villa to greet the newly arrived guests. Cressida was not expecting any such nicety. Without responding to Doug's comment, she took him by the arm and escorted him forcefully to the main entrance. They stood on the brick esplanade right outside the portico waiting, yet there was no response from within.

"Is anyone there?" Cressida asked. "Gee, you think that helicopter was a bit too quiet? Damn thing was loud enough to wake the dead."

Right then, the clicking of door locks took both Doug and Cressida by surprise as the large double wood doors creaked ominously open. "Welcome, my friends," a voice over an intercom system said, "Please, enter. Make yourselves at home."

They entered the spacious entryway. Not a soul was around. Doug, of course, spied the beverages on the nearby credenza – water, lemonade and horchata in large glass pitchers, as well as bottles of various liquors and Mexican beers cooling off in a large stainless steel ice bucket. "Please, help yourselves to a refreshment," that same intercom-sourced voice said. "The water has been purified, and so if you are fearful of 'Montezuma's Revenge', you needn't be."

"All the same," Doug said, "I'll settle for a shot of your Patron Silver, thank you."

"Please, be my guest. And you, Cressida?"

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Very well. I will ask you to remain in the entryway, as my butler will be with you presently."

"Ooh, a butler," Doug whistled. "Swanky!"

Again Cressida did not respond. As they remained in place, they became aware of a thumping noise that grew louder and louder, increasing its reverberation as it came closer. The massive figure that came into the entry way took both Doug and Cressida by complete surprise. It was massive, and it was hideous. It stood about seven and a half feet tall, heavy and muscular of build, with long arms that seemed to droop to the floor, stringy long hair, and Neanderthal-like facial features with pointed ears. Canine teeth jutted from the creatures' jaw and a ring was in its cartoonishly bulbous nose. The beast appeared brutish and of limited intelligence, despite the fact it was wearing a tuxedo. The monster snorted as it looked upon the newcomers. Cressida's shock quickly abated, for she had encountered such creatures before, although not always in pleasant circumstances. Doug, on the other hand...

"Holy shit! Do you see that? Do you fucking see that? What the hell is that?"

"I'll overlook your rudeness, sir," The creature said in a polite and aristocratic British accent. "But if you really must know, my name is Canute, and I am a troll."

"A... a troll? You mean, like the under the bridge kind?"

"I neither spend my time under bridges, nor on the internet. I am, quite actually, a subway troll. I was previously engaged in the London Underground before I took this position."