The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 76he was not afraid. She sank to her knees and made a small incision across the scar from his bulletwound, and then bent her head and began to lick at the wound and the blood that flowed from it. Thecut and her hungry licking were the most painful and the most pleasurable things Jose had ever felt, andhe wanted her to stop and he wanted her never to stop. She looked up at him and licked her lips, andJose smiled down at her. She stood and flicked the knife. The motion was too fast to see, but the bladeleft a glowing trail through the air as it sliced through his skin above his left nipple. Again she bent andtasted his blood, and again it was the most terrible pleasure he had ever known. Her pace accelerated.The knife flashed over and over, each time opening a small new incision. Each continued to bleedunstoppably, and soon Jose was covered in his own blood and beginning to feel week. His whole bodywas burning with agony and with passion, and still Eudora would not stop her dive into the river ofblood that was consuming him. He began to feel dizzy.A shape took form in the darkness of the room opposite Jose. A long red dress, then a hat withdancing ostrich feathers. Long, sensual gloves. The beautiful curve of a jaw bone just visible underthe wide brim of the hat. Jose's heart wrenched: Of course, it was his beloved La Catrina. She glidedacross the room to Jose, and tipped her head slightly back so that he could see her under the hat. Hereye sockets were inky black, and far more hypnotic than the blue of Eudora's eyes could ever be;Eudora's eyes were mortal, after all, but these sockets had seen eternity.Eudora did not seem aware of La Catrina, and continued to hungrily lick at Jose's blood. Josebriefly worried that La Catrina would be upset with him for this indiscretion, but her wide grin put himat ease. She reached up with a gloved arm and took Jose's hand in her own. Underneath the glove herfingers felt substantial, and not at all skeletal. She pulled, and Jose's body came free from the woodenframe to which Eudora had tied him. She continued backwards towards the darkness, pulling Josealong with her. His body was light, and all of the agony of Eudora's cuts was gone, but he was growingmore lightheaded with each passing moment. By the time she had pulled him to the blackness where
The Long and Storied Life of Jose Montoya 77the wall should have been, Jose had passed out.Jose awoke and looked around him. He was in his barracks room, stretched out on his singlebed. The room was dark, but after a moment he could make out the clock on his small writing desk: sixo'clock. The dream of Eudora and La Catrina was floating around in his mind, confusing in its clarity.He got up off the bed and undressed, examining himself for any sign of the wounds that Eudora hadinflicted. There were none, and Jose found himself mildly disappointed. Despite the lingering smell ofroses that permeated the room, it was Eudora and the agony and the ecstasy that she had inflicted onhim that were staying sharp in his mind. He reaffirmed to himself and to her vision that he did not careif she was to torture him; anything at her hands would be bearable, as long as she used them to touchhim.The sky was beginning to lighten; it was Sunday morning, and Jose began to prepare himself forEudora and her mysterious church. A quick bath later, Jose was pulling his best suit out of his smallwardrobe. It was the same suit in which he had first fled Agua Prieta, and even though it seemed tohave shrunk over the past two years Jose forced himself into it. Small or not it was still practically theonly clothing that he owned apart from his uniforms, and he wanted Eudora to see him in it. There wasjust enough time to make it to Eudora's by eight o'clock, in keeping with his promise to her. With onelast attempt at smoothing down his hair, Jose headed out the door.A small crowd was gathered outside of the nursing student quarters when Jose arrived. Therewere soldiers in their best uniforms and soldiers in their best Sunday clothes, and young ladies indresses ranging from Victorian elegant to pretty but simple. Eudora was among them, and ran to himwhen she saw Jose approaching. She was, to Jose, the prettiest of the pretty-but-simple group, andcaught his hand when she reached him. It seemed the whole crowd was heading to church together,
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<strong>The</strong> <strong>Long</strong> <strong>and</strong> <strong>Storied</strong> <strong>Life</strong> <strong>of</strong> <strong>Jose</strong> <strong>Montoya</strong> 77the wall should have been, <strong>Jose</strong> had passed out.<strong>Jose</strong> awoke <strong>and</strong> looked around him. He was in his barracks room, stretched out on his singlebed. <strong>The</strong> room was dark, but after a moment he could make out the clock on his small writing desk: sixo'clock. <strong>The</strong> dream <strong>of</strong> Eudora <strong>and</strong> La Catrina was floating around in his mind, confusing in its clarity.He got up <strong>of</strong>f the bed <strong>and</strong> undressed, examining himself for any sign <strong>of</strong> the wounds that Eudora hadinflicted. <strong>The</strong>re were none, <strong>and</strong> <strong>Jose</strong> found himself mildly disappointed. Despite the lingering smell <strong>of</strong>roses that permeated the room, it was Eudora <strong>and</strong> the agony <strong>and</strong> the ecstasy that she had inflicted onhim that were staying sharp in his mind. He reaffirmed to himself <strong>and</strong> to her vision that he did not careif she was to torture him; anything at her h<strong>and</strong>s would be bearable, as long as she used them to touchhim.<strong>The</strong> sky was beginning to lighten; it was Sunday morning, <strong>and</strong> <strong>Jose</strong> began to prepare himself forEudora <strong>and</strong> her mysterious church. A quick bath later, <strong>Jose</strong> was pulling his best suit out <strong>of</strong> his smallwardrobe. It was the same suit in which he had first fled Agua Prieta, <strong>and</strong> even though it seemed tohave shrunk over the past two years <strong>Jose</strong> forced himself into it. Small or not it was still practically theonly clothing that he owned apart from his uniforms, <strong>and</strong> he wanted Eudora to see him in it. <strong>The</strong>re wasjust enough time to make it to Eudora's by eight o'clock, in keeping with his promise to her. With onelast attempt at smoothing down his hair, <strong>Jose</strong> headed out the door.A small crowd was gathered outside <strong>of</strong> the nursing student quarters when <strong>Jose</strong> arrived. <strong>The</strong>rewere soldiers in their best uniforms <strong>and</strong> soldiers in their best Sunday clothes, <strong>and</strong> young ladies indresses ranging from Victorian elegant to pretty but simple. Eudora was among them, <strong>and</strong> ran to himwhen she saw <strong>Jose</strong> approaching. She was, to <strong>Jose</strong>, the prettiest <strong>of</strong> the pretty-but-simple group, <strong>and</strong>caught his h<strong>and</strong> when she reached him. It seemed the whole crowd was heading to church together,
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