Jaguar Eyes

The mourners at my nephew’s funeral do one of two things as I walk to the front of the gathering to stand with my remaining family; they either stare at me or avoid making eye contact at all. A few whisper quietly amongst themselves, but most of them are too far off for me to hear. The ones I do hear are from a conversation between my niece, Tanya, and her mother, Emma.

“Why is he here?” the girl asks her mother. Emma, in turn, turns to her daughter, shaking her head.

“We can’t just assume he had something to do with your brother’s death,” she explains from the side of her stern mouth, though she never diverts her eyes from mine. Hers are dark, foreboding, and watchful; a mother jaguar defending her cub. A fitting, fighting spirit for Emma. Tanya’s too bears the form of a jaguar, though hers is equally fitting for a subdued, unsure teenager. She’ll grow into her own before long.

Her brother, Simon, also had a jaguar spirit; it runs in the family. Even mine is of the jungle cat. I can see it every time I find my reflection: scarred, blinded in one eye, and carrying a hungry, predatory gaze. I’m so used to seeing the spiritually blinded eye, I forget that both of mine work in my physical body, and I become aware that something bright flits by on the periphery of my right eye.

My family falls quiet again when I reach them. I join them around the pictures we have set up for mourning; Simon’s body has yet to be found. Unsurprising, given how many predators roam the area. Particularly the waterways. Crocodiles, snakes, and fish would likely have made short work of his remains by now. It’s been weeks.

It is better this way, I think; no one wishes to see him in the state we all suspect he is in. The blood, evidence of a scuffle in the dirt and mud, and pieces of his tattered clothing were all that were found after he went missing while fishing. Nobody knows what it was that took him, though. The marks on the ground were inconclusive, but many suspect one of the local jaguars claimed Simon as a meal.

After the ceremony concludes, I approach Emma and Tanya to once more offer my condolences. My brother, Shay, also disappeared in a suspected predator attack, many years ago, and with Simon now gone too, I am expected to fill some of the roles they held. It’s just Emma and Tanya now. I offer each a hug, but only Emma returns the act of affection. Tanya glares at me with accusing eyes, and I offer a small smirk at this. Rumors from other families in the area have gotten to her head, I think. I’m not the most liked around here.

“Tanya, come now - give your uncle Lloyd a hug,” reprimands Emma. I shake my head.

“No, no. If she doesn’t wish to, that is fine; I understand,” I state, adding, “I just wanted to remind you both that I am here if you need anything. You two stay with the other mourners and see to them, and I will go home and change so I can fix the leaks in the roof.” Tanya continues giving me a silent glare, but Emma gives me another, grateful hug.

“Thank you, Lloyd. Travel safely.”

I turn around to begin the walk home - several miles away. We live on the outer edge of a swamp, and most vehicles cannot get through the small, muddy paths. We are used to it, though. We live on our own timeframe. As I begin to head out, a flash of brilliant red catches my eye. I look; the red is such a vibrant color, it demands my attention.

A scarlet macaw. It is a beautiful sight under normal conditions. But this one is not a welcomed visage.

In our family, gifted with a spiritual sight, the scarlet macaw is said to be a fearful spirit to behold. This is because it is the form of a murder victim - hence the scarlet coloration, which symbolizes the blood on the murderer’s hands. I instantly recognize that the bird carries the spirit of my deceased nephew, Simon, transformed after his death. Simon was not killed by a wild animal.

He was murdered.

His spirit watches me intently from the trees, calling out with a shrill screech that makes my own spirit wither in pain.

I walk the two miles home, aware of my nephew following me by the screeching that rings out periodically in the jungle mist. I change into my work clothes, and begin repairing the holes in our home, constantly looking over my shoulder. A heavy branch had broken off a few storms ago, punching a few small holes in the roof which allowed water to drip through in the frequently wet and humid area.

Emma and Tanya have returned, redressed, and cooked the evening meal before I finally finish the repairs, and darkness descends quickly. The cries of my nephew’s spirit still ring out, and the women are made aware that this is no normal macaw.

Emma begins to cry as she too spots and recognizes the spirit of her son and the manner of his death that it indicates. Her family, too, has the gift of sight. It was part of the attraction to each of our families when Shay sought her for marriage. Simon and Tanya would both have tremendous abilities, in theory.

“Lloyd,” she gasps breathlessly, “who could have done such a thing to my sweet Simon?” I embrace her as she begins emitting a high-pitched keening sound; a mother in devastating pain.

“I don’t know,” I say. My eyes meet the dark, accusatory glare of Tanya. I wave at her while still comforting Emma, but the girl storms off to her room. I smirk. Oh the games we play.

The shrill call of the macaw spirit echoes throughout the night; I occasionally hear Emma break out in another burst of tears in her room from hearing it. Eventually, though, things quiet down. Slowly, I make my way to Tanya’s room.

I open the door quietly. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I creep forward, closing the door behind me and locking it. The sound of the lock alerts the teenager of my presence.

“Get out,” she says, startled. When I don’t move, she yells a little louder, “I said get out!”

I pounce before she can move from the bed, covering her mouth with my hand and pinning her down with the entirety of my weight. “It’s just me,” I sneer. Tanya flails under me, trying to wriggle away. When she gets the chance to, she bites my hand, hard, and I can’t help but pull it back, cursing.

“Mom!” she cries out desperately. I hear Emma racing through the dark house until she slams into the locked door. So much for doing this without a fuss.

“Tanya!” she cries, “Lloyd, where are you!? Help!”

“It’s him!” Tanya shrieks. Emma’s attempts to get into the room increase; she is frantic to get to her daughter.

“Lloyd, please! What is this about? What do you want?” Emma yells, practically already begging. I smirk at Tanya, who goes still beneath me as she realizes my intent. I lean in to whisper threateningly to her.

“No big brother here this time.”

“Y-you?” she gasps. My grin grows more predatory. She had suspected, but now she knows.

“He was getting way too suspicious - sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.”

“I always knew you were a dirty, perverted killer!” seethes Tanya, her struggles redoubling before she falls slack against the bed, exhausted. I laugh at her admittance.

“Like father, like daughter, hm?” I mutter, pulling some of her long hair to me so that I can inhale the scent of her. I feel my niece shiver and recoil in disgust.

“The rumors were true?” she asks, seemingly stunned. I know she’s simply biding time, but I decide to divulge. After all, I’ve held the truth of that incident to myself for years. If I were able to subdue her quietly like I had planned, I wouldn’t bother giving her such damning information. As it is…

...my remaining family is about to be subjected to brutal murder at my hands. I have to; there’s no other way to keep them both quiet. And I am no stranger to the deed.

“Lloyd, please!” begs Emma from the other side of the door, “Please - have me! Have me instead!” I snicker, baring my teeth to Tanya as I respond.

“I’ve already had you, Emma. You knew Shay was impotent.”

Tanya’s eyes widen as the words slip from me, considering their implication. I move the hand she bit to wrap tightly around her neck, pressing her into the mattress as she wheezes.

“That’s right, Tanya. He wasn’t your father - or Simon's; I am.”

Before I can do any more, Emma finally manages to get into the room - through the window. She bursts through the glass and rips me from our daughter with a ferociousness I didn’t think she had. One look at her with my good spiritual eye reveals what I already knew; she is a protective mother. Her animal spirit is puffed up and ready to battle, fangs bared in anger. Her dark eyes pierce through me unexpectedly; I haven’t felt this threatened since…

“...Look at you,” I say, laughing, “Even half-blind to the spiritual, I can see the fierceness in you. Just like Shay. Did you know? He's the one who half-blinded my spiritual form. After I killed him, he came back as a scarlet macaw - just like our son-”

“Don’t you dare call him yours!” roars Emma, flinging a sharp shell from the shelf nearest her. The object flies past me to shatter against the wall, small bits striking me.

Tanya flees as Emma and I begin to attack one another, but I know better than to let her reach help. Emma lunges at me while I am distracted with seeing where the teenager flees towards, and the force of her slamming into me causes me to shift. Broken shell fragments embed themselves into my bare feet and I scream out in agony; a jaguar’s scream.

I wrangle Emma off of me, beating her over the head several times with another trinket off the shelves - I think a sculpture. The base is heavy, and after a few blows, Emma slumps down. Not dead, but incapacitated; I’ll have to deal with her after I catch Tanya. I slowly make my way after Tanya, indifferent to the pain in my feet as I stalk after her. She too is barefoot, and her fear is costing her - if the disturbances in the mud are anything to go by. She must have fallen several times and struggled to regain footing in the mud. Fear hangs thickly in the air.

I follow her hectic trail down to a small river - the very one where Simon had gone missing from. I grin when I realize this; it seems most fitting for the siblings to both perish at the edge of the same river. I had taken great lengths to alter my tracks at the crime scene for Simon - this will be no different.

Tanya screams when she notices that I have caught up to her, and she backs into the water as far as she dares. Between the force of the water and the crocodiles in it, she is debating which fate is worse.

“Tanya,” I say teasingly, “Come here to daddy.”

“No! You are not my father!” she screams back. I shake my head as I begin closing the distance between us.

“But of course I am. My brother couldn’t have children; yet here you are. I do wonder how that came to be….”

“You’re lying!”

“Am I? Your mother wanted children so badly. Shay never knew - he just assumed he was lucky after his doctors said he was sterile. But that wasn’t the case. No, your mother and I-”

“Stop it! I don’t want to hear any more, you creep!”

My grin grows full. I stop only feet away from her as she struggles to keep her balance in the increasingly heavy flow of water as she inches out further and further.

“You both were once part of me. Come here, and join your brother. Then both of you will be part of me once again.”

“Wh-what!?” exclaims Tanya, and I see sheer disbelief cross her face.

“Oh, yes. The river creatures weren’t the only ones to feast the night he disappeared.”

Tanya balks and tries to suppress her bodily reactions to this news, and I laugh, taunting, “Come now, Tanya. Join your brother, won’t you?” I even rub my hands over my stomach to emphasize my meaning.

“Disgusting creep!” she retorts, slinging water and anything floating by her at me. Very little manages to reach me, and I feel my grin grow wider and wider as I slink towards her. The sooner I handle and dispose of her, the sooner I can return to Emma, before she can alert the nearest neighbors.

Suddenly, a new, yet familiar voice cuts through over the sound of the river.

“Lloyd!” I feel my heart drop. It can’t be….

When I turn, I find myself facing a macaw spirit. Not of Simon, though this spirit is a scarlet macaw as well; it is my brother, Shay. His spirit is larger, more ratty than that of Simon’s. He is equally as scarred as my own spiritual representation. Fitting, since we gave each other our spiritual scars; he took the sight from my right eye and I took half his left wing. Which is why his spirit rests on the ground; he is unable to fly off.

“Hello, brother,” I greet him when my shock fades.

“Leave Tanya alone, Lloyd,” commands Shay, tilting his head and looking at me the way the living birds do. I grin, then manifest into my own spiritual incarnation. There is little else so powerful as that of a jaguar’s gait and gaze, and I maintain eye contact as I approach my brother with a feline confidence. I stop short suddenly upon hearing a chorus of shrieks. I turn my head to see what is coming from behind me, and my blood runs cold.

Scarlet macaws; dozens of them. Every victim I have claimed since I was a teenager no older than Tanya comes swooping down upon me. I run, ducking my head to avoid their sharp talons and curved beaks, and their wings beating above me sound like rolling thunder.

As I barrel down a worn path back towards the house, a tree branch suddenly collides with my head. I flop onto my stomach, stunned, and look up through the blood running down the side of my face.

Emma stands over me, breathing heavily and badly bloodied from my earlier assault. When I stay down, first she spits at my face, and then she runs past me, towards the river and her daughter who is now screaming for her. I hear the two excitedly chattering upon their reunion, and then the tell-tale splashing and rustling that tells me they have exited the river and begun racing towards safety. I cannot chase them down; Emma got in a good hit with the branch, and I can tell something is physically wrong with my head now.

I will have to flee.

I stagger to my feet, wiping the streaming blood from my eye. I hear a succession of thumps, and once again turn; my brother. Grounded by his spiritual injury, he has hopped his way over to me. I sneer at him, baring my teeth. I can both feel and taste the blood that drips into my mouth, and it makes me angry. And hungry.

“What, Shay?” I snarl. He tilts his head one way, then another, as though amused at my state.

“Your turn,” he responds, laughing. A chorus of mimicked laughter rings out all around me, and I find I am surrounded by all of my victims once more. Several begin diving at me, claws extended. A few manage to rip up my shoulder before I dart further into the jungle.

By the time morning comes and my victims have lost me, I am ragged and bloody. I collapse next to a small stream and look into a puddle off to the side of me. I can see spirits no longer; Shay took my right eye, and Simon took my left. Instead of the mighty jaguar within, only the battered and bloodied visage of my physical body greets me. I take my hands, rinse them, and cup water to drink.

My hands are at my mouth when I realize what else lies reflected in the cupped water; over my shoulder, sneaking up - a pair of hungry jaguar eyes.

A fitting death, I think.

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