“Gaia, but this land is beautiful,” Krysty said, sighing.
“Thank you,” Soto replied as he stepped gingerly down the steps. He wore a white shirt, sandals on wide, flat feet, and near-white blue jeans. A pair of binoculars dangled from his neck. There was no visible blaster on his hip, although a large knife hung from his belt in a leather sheath. The straw hat was perched at an angle on his head.
“You wanted to talk?” Ryan asked, as blunt as always.
“I did, Mr. Cawdor. There is a darkness here in Old San Juan an outsider such as yourself might be able to help eliminate. A man with blasters and experience.”
“Experience?” Krysty repeated.
Soto clarified. “In dangerous affairs.”
“Guess you could say that,” Ryan said. “Just so you know, I’m not a mercie or sec man. I don’t kill for profit.”
“That is good since I have no currency to pay you with. What I can offer is food and drink and a story.”
Ryan glanced at his wristchron. He’d reset the timepiece for local time that morning before leaving El Morro. It was high noon. “Reckon we can spare a moment to hear you out and break your bread.”
‘ ‘Good! Now, come, come. A cafe is not far from here.”
THE CAFfi WAS SMALL and intimate, open at the front to allow natural lighting, yet still sheltered enough to provide shade from the blistering heat. When Ryan had spoken of “breaking bread,” he hadn’t realized how accurate his statement would prove to be, since lunch was indeed hunks of freshly baked bread with sweet-tasting sides of butter for flavoring. A bowl of fruit was placed next to the platter of bread, and all were given water to drink.
They had been joined by another man whom Soto had introduced as Jorge, and the two made an interesting contrast. Where Soto was plump and compact, Jorge was tall and muscular. Where Soto’s clothing was heavily worn and drenched in sweat, Jorge was bare-chested and wore a pair of clean nylon swimming trunks.
The taller man didn’t share in his friend’s efforts to be friendly, and he gazed across the table with open distrust. When first introduced, there had been multiple exchanges of Spanish, some heated, before Soto had turned with his usual smile and asked them to sit.
“There a problem?”
“No,” Jorge replied. “Not yet.”
“Your food, it’s good?” Soto interjected.
“Yeah,” Ryan said, chewing on a piece of the blackened bread. “Good.”
“Probably not as fine as the fare you’ve been dining on in El Morro,” Jorge said with a sneer.
“No, it’s not,” Ryan answered. “But bread is bread.”
“You said something about a story?” Krysty asked in an attempt to clear the air.
“I did,” Soto said, wiping crumbs from his chin. “There is a creature who appeared here in Puerto Rico many years ago before the final war, the conflict that destroyed the world. First found with bloodstained teeth crouched at the side of a goat, the creature was quickly dubbed El Chupacabras-the goatsucker-since the poor animal the demon had killed was completely drained of blood.”
“You don’t say,” Ryan replied, breaking off another hunk of the bread.
“The name of goatsucker soon proved to be misleading, since other carcasses began piling up in this region of the island. Sheep, cattle, horses, rabbits, cats, dogs, chickens, and many other recently killed animals were discovered daily for weeks afterward, and all of them shared the same symptoms of attack. Each dead animal had small wounds, punctures through which all of the blood had been sucked out.”
“Wow!” Dean interjected. “Sounds like a horror vid I once saw.”
“So, your goatsucker was some kind of predator. That was dozens of years ago. What’s it got to do with the here and now?”
“El Chupacabras was no ordinary predator, Sefior Cawdor. Here, I have a drawing.”
Soto stood and took a leather pouch from one of his pockets. Unfastening the pouch, he removed a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Ryan. The one-eyed man unfolded the sheet, revealing a detailed drawing of a frightening-looking beast standing on a pair of muscular hind legs. Covered in coarse black hair, the chupacabras had a series of sharp spines running up its back. Clawed “hands” were at the ends of stubby arms, and under the arms were bat wings.