"Who are you?" And I was happy that my voice was confident, normal.
"I am the Red Woman's Husband." He gazed down at me with eyes so patient, so kind. You think angels must have eyes like that.
"The Red Woman is the Aztec phrase for blood. What does it mean that you're blood's husband?"
"I am the body, and she is the life." He said it like it answered my question. It didn't.
Something wet and slimy touched my hand. I jerked back, but the chain didn't let me go far. The length of animated intestine followed my hand, nuzzling it like some obscene worm. I swallowed a scream, but I couldn't keep my pulse from speeding up.
He laughed at me.
It was a very ordinary laugh for a would-be god, but it was nicely condescending and maybe that's how would-be gods laughed. But it was a peculiarly masculine condescension, long gone out of style. The laugh says, "Silly little girl, don't you know I'm the big strong man, and you know nothing, and I know everything?" Or maybe I'm just too sensitive.
"Why intestines?" I asked.
The smile faded around the edges. His handsome face looked puzzled. "Are you making fun of me?" The intestine dropped away from my hand like a date that I'd rebuffed. Fine with me.
"No. I just wondered why intestines. You can obviously animate any body part. You can keep detached parts from decaying like the skins your men are wearing. With all that to choose from, why people's guts and not something else?" People love to talk about themselves. The bigger the ego, the more they enjoy it. I was hoping that the Red Woman's Husband was the same as everyone else, at least in this one thing.
"I wear the roots of their bodies so that all that see me will know that my enemies are empty shells and I have all that was theirs."
Ask a silly question. "Why the tongues?"
"So that the lies of my enemies will not be believed."
"Eyelids?"
"I will open the eyes of my enemies so that they may never again close their eyes to the truth."
He was answering questions so nicely that I decided to try for more. "How did you skin the people without using a tool of some kind?"
"Tlaloci, my priest, called the skin from their bodies."
"How?" I asked.
"My power," he said.
"Don't you mean Tlaloci's power?"
He frowned again. "All his power derives from me."
"Sure," I said.
"I am his master. He owes all to me."
"Sounds like you owe him."
"You do not know what you are saying." He was getting angry. Probably not what I wanted. I tried another more polite question.
"Why take the breasts and penises?"
"To feed my minion." He did nothing, but suddenly I felt the air in the cavern move, and it was as if the shadows themselves drew apart like a curtain revealing a tunnel about thirty feet from the foot of where I lay. Something crawled out of that tunnel. The first impression was of a brilliant iridescent green. The scales changed color at every turn of the light. First green, then blue, then blue and green all at once, then a pearl white glitter that I thought I must have imagined, until it turned its head and flashed a white underbelly. The green scales went closer to true blue as the color moved up towards the head, until the square snout was a clear pure blue the color of sky. There was a fringe of delicate feathers in a rainbow of colors around that face. It turned and stared at me, fanning the feathers around its scaled head into a display that would have been the envy of any peacock. Its eyes were round and huge, taking up most of its face like the eyes of a bird of prey. A pair of slender wings was folded along its back, rainbow colors of the fringe, but I knew without seeing that the underside of the wings would be white. It pushed forward on four legs. Counting the wings, it was a six-limbed animal.
It was a Quetzalcoatl Draconus Giganticus, or at least that was the last Latin classification I was aware of. Sometimes they were classed as a subspecies of dragons, sometimes as a subspecies of gargoyles, and sometimes they had their own group all to themselves. Whatever classification, the Giganticus was the biggest and supposedly extinct. The Spaniards had killed a lot of them to dishearten the natives to whom they were sacred, and because it was just the European thing to do. See a dragon, kill it. It was not a complex philosophy.
I'd only seen black and white photos, and the stuffed one in the Chicago Field Museum. The photos hadn't come close to doing it justice, and the stuffed one, well, maybe it was a bad taxidermy job.
It glided into the room in a shimmering roll of color and muscle. It was literally one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. It was also probably what had been gutting people. It opened that sky-blue snout and yawned showing rows of saw-like teeth. The sound of its claws clattered over the stone floor like some nightmarish dog.
Red Woman's Husband lay his Spanish helmet on the stone by my legs and went to greet the creature. It lowered its head to be petted, very like a dog. He stroked it just above the eye ridges and it made a low, rolling sound, eyes closing to slits. It was purring.
He sent it away with a playful push against one muscular shoulder. I watched it vanish back through the tunnel like it wasn't real. "I thought they were extinct."
"My minion helped bring us to this place, then it slept a magic sleep, waiting for me to awake."
"I didn't know Quetzalcoatls could hibernate."
He frowned at me again and came to stand by my head. "I know what your word hibernate means, but it was a magic sleep, done by the last of my warrior priests. The priest sacrificed himself, putting all of us in an enchanted sleep, knowing that there was no one to aid him, and that he would die alone in this alien place long before I rose."
Enchanted sleep. Sounded like Sleeping Beauty. "That's true loyalty, sacrifice yourself for the better good."
"I'm so glad you agree. It will make what has to happen much easier."
Didn't like the sound of that. Maybe flattery wasn't the way to go. I'd try something more normal for me ¨C sarcasm ¨C and see if that led us away from the topic of my impending doom. "I don't owe you any loyalty. I am not one of your followers."
"Only because you do not understand," he said, and those smiling eyes gazed down at me with a look of almost perfect peace.
"That's what Jim Jones said just before he gave every one the Kool-Aid."
"I do not know this name, Jim Jones." Then he turned his head to one side, and it reminded me of Itzpapalotl when she listened to voices I could not hear. Now I realized that it might just be a way to access other people's memories. "Ah, I know who he is now." He looked down at me with those calm, beatific eyes. "But I am no madman. I am a god."
He was getting distracted, as if it mattered to him for me to believe he was a god. If he had to convince me that he was divine before he killed me, then I was safe. He could kill me, but he'd never convince me he was a god.
He frowned. "You do not believe me." He sounded surprised again. And I realized that for all his power, he seemed young. The ages raged through the eyes on his arms as though you could see back through to the beginning of creation, but he, himself, seemed young. Or maybe he just wasn't used to people who didn't drop down and worship him. If that's all you'd known in your entire existence, then anyone not worshipping might be a shock.