Quid Pro Quo

A Short Story

By

Curt Collier

 

           “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Ben, why don’t you just stop and ask for directions?” Tina said for the umpteenth time in the last fifteen minutes.

           “Look around, Tina. Do you see a gas station or a convenience store or even an old lady sitting on the porch? No? Then why don’t you just shut up until you have something useful to say,” Benjamin Parker said to his wife of almost a decade. They were only a few miles south of Tyler on the edge of Lake Palestine, but it did not take one long after leaving the city proper to find one’s self lost in the sparsely populated piney woods of East Texas.

           “Besides, I have the directions right here,” he waved a sheet of yellow paper that had been torn off a legal pad, “Mr. Lee’s secretary gave them to me and she gives excellent directions.”

          “Just because she gives good directions, doesn’t mean you can follow them,” Tina said. “We’ve been wandering up and down this road for half an hour and you’re supposed to be at the meeting in less than twenty minutes.”

          “It’s not like I’ve been able to give all of my attention to driving, you know. All your bitching and moaning made me miss the turn off.”

          “Well if I’m such a bitch, why did you insist I come along?”

          “For God’s sake, Tina, we’ve been over this before. Mr. Lee said this client is very old fashioned and likes to meet the family of the men with whom he does business. Believe me, if I could have left you at home, I would have. This is a very important meeting, and this client is bringing more money into the firm this year alone than the firm has made collectively in the last ten years. It’s a glowing endorsement that Mr. Lee has entrusted me to take care of Mr. Albescu.”

           “Well, if it’s so important why did they send you? You’ve only been with the firm for a couple of years and before last week you were still drafting pleadings for the real attorneys,” Tina said.

          “I am a real attorney, Tina. And someone finally realized it. This is the biggest opportunity I’ve had since I graduated law school. So can you please not screw this up? Please? More money for the firm means more money for us. Can you understand that?”

           “Well, just don’t you forget whose money you’ve been living off of since we got married. And whose money put you through law school. And whose money bought you this car. And puts a roof over your head…”

           “How can I forget, Tina,” Ben interrupted, “When you keep reminding me every few minutes?”

          Ben toggled the headlights up to bright and began to slow down. “See?” He said to Tina, who had retreated into her customary silent funk upon his rebuke, “There’s the gatehouse to the subdivision, Emerald Bay. See, I can do something right, whether you think so or not.”

          Tina let out a noncommittal huff.

          Ben pulled up to the gatehouse and thumbed the switch that lowered the electric window. When the security officer stepped out of the gatehouse Ben said, “Benjamin Parker and wife to see Mr. Albescu. I have an eight o’clock appointment.”

           “What kind of man does business at night?” Tina murmured just loudly enough for the security office to hear. “Thieves, drug dealers, all sorts of shady people,” she answered her own question. “Mark my word, Ben, something’s wrong about this whole deal. Decent people do not conduct business in the dark.”

          The security officer was checking the names on a list of approved visitors. He found Ben’s name, wrote down the license plate and car identification, and then passed a bright green plastic permit with the letters E and B emblazoned on a golf ball through the open window to Ben. “Please hang this from your rearview mirror during your visit. When you leave, please return it to the officer on duty.” Without waiting for a response from Ben, he reached inside the guardhouse and pushed the button that raised the wooden gate.

          After hanging the garish permit on his mirror, Ben slowly pulled through the checkpoint as he consulted the yellow page for further directions. “Mr. Lee said to bear left after leaving the gatehouse and follow the lake shore south for a quarter-mile, and then take a right on North Bay Drive. The house is on a cul-de-sac. We’re to enter the large black iron gate – he says it will open at five minutes before eight – and follow the drive up to the house. Someone will be waiting to park the car for us and Mr. Albescu will meet us at the door. Sounds easy enough,” he said.

           “There are quite a few famous people who live here,” Tina said, her spirits improving as she looked at the various estates they were passing. “Garner Ted Armstrong – you know that television preacher whose dad founded the Worldwide Church of God – lives here with his wife and sons. Oh, and Tammy Faye moved out here, too. She’s living in that Messner fellow’s house, the one who cut a deal with the district attorney to testify against poor Jim Bakker just so he could get immunity.” Tina’s family believed that television preachers were bona fide celebrities and followed a dozen or so of their programs… well, religiously.

          “Oh, and those two brothers who own all those car lots all over the South,” she continued, “The ones who have that god-awful ugly dog in all their commercials. They have adjoining estates here, too. Do you think we might see any of them while we’re here?” Tina asked hopefully.

          “Oh yeah,” Ben said condescendingly, “I’m sure we’ll see Tammy Faye out watering her flowers with tears. And maybe ol’ Garner Ted will step out to pick up his evening paper in his pajamas. Isn’t that right, Widetrack? Woof-Woof!”

           “God, I hate you, Ben! You are such a son of a bitch,” Tina said, crossing her arms and returning to her silent pout.

           “Yeah, well so is our son, Tina. It must run in the family,” he said.

          The conversation ceased as Ben continued to follow the directions given to him. After a few moments, he pulled up to the great iron gate just as it was swinging open.

          “See? Right on time. Nothing to worry about,” he said as they entered the estate.

          The driveway was gravel and at its terminus, in front of the house, it formed a loop allowing cars to circle around a gigantic weeping willow tree and return the way they had arrived. To the side of the house was a concrete slab that could hold a dozen cars, but at the moment was home to only three: a 1968 Chevrolet Camaro Z28, metallic blue with two wide white stripes running down the hood and across the trunk; a 1968 Jaguar 420, copper colored with right-hand drive; and a brand new Lincoln Town Car stretch limousine, midnight black with smoked side and rear windows to give the dozen passengers it could carry absolute privacy.

          No sooner had Ben pulled up to the front of the house than he heard a sharp tapping on the driver’s side window. Startled, he quickly recovered his composure and thumbed down the window again. Outside was a small, dark man in a crimson blazer over a turtleneck shirt and matching pants. He was barely over five feet tall and had his thick black hair slicked back over his head, exposing a high forehead and producing a distinct widow’s peak. His skin was very dark but extraordinarily smooth and wrinkle free. His eyes were dark and flat, empty of emotion, and he did not quite meet Ben’s gaze; it was more like he was looking at Ben’s nose, or his forehead, rather than his eyes.

          The small man opened Ben’s door then went around the car to do the same for Tina. He offered his hand to her and, once she was outside, he reached inside to retrieve her shawl and helped her on with it. By the time Ben had extricated himself from the driver’s seat and walked around the car to stand by Tina, the small man had slipped into the seat vacated by Ben and was pulling the car away toward the small pad.

          Ben leaned close and whispered in Tina’s ear, “At least try to behave tonight, alright? Remember, Mr. Albescu is from the Old World and holds to some strange ideas and customs. Whatever you do, don’t offend him with stupid questions or comments, okay?”

          “I’m not a child, Ben, so stop talking to me like I’m one,” she whispered. Tina had the ability to infuse more venom into a whisper than anyone Ben had ever met.

          Ben took Tina by the elbow and guided her toward the front door, hoping they at least looked like a happy couple.

           Before they reached the door, it swung open and their host – Ben presumed – opened his arms to welcome them. He was a very tall man of late, middle years. He had hair so devoid of color that it seemed a cap of frost sitting atop his head. It was full and light, combed straight back over the top of his head after an initial crown of several inches. He was clean-shaven and, like the attendant who parked their car, had rich dark skin that was a smooth and unblemished as a babe in arms. His hazel eyes were alight with excitement, quite the opposite of the valet. When he smiled, Ben caught a glimpse of wide white teeth behind dark red lips; so white they looked like they were glowing in the light of the gibbous moon. He wore a scarlet Nehru jacket that rode high along his neck, and camel-colored salwar pants with matching mojari slippers.

           “Welcome my friends. Welcome,” he said as they approached, “By the ancient laws of hospitality I welcome you to my home! Enter freely and of your own free will. Be safe within; eat of my salt and drink of my wine, and leave somewhat of yourself behind ere you depart. Come! Enter! Enter freely and of your own free will!”

          The greeting had the ring of ritual to it and Ben was thankful his boss, Mr. Lee, had schooled him in the proper response.

           “Thank you, my lord. We enter freely and of our own free will, requesting a place by your hearth and shelter under your roof. We accept your wine and your salt and your promise of protection, and do bind ourselves by the ancient laws of hospitality; and we do vow to leave somewhat of ourselves ere we depart.”

           Beside, but slightly behind, the master of the house was a small, wizened woman who could have been the valet’s twin except for the gray streaks in her hair and the multitude of wrinkles covering her face and neck. She was holding a small tray with three tiny glasses – no more than a shot glass one would find in any bar – filled with a dark purple liquid and a small silver bowl of smoky white crystals. Mr. Lee had forewarned Ben about this part of the ritual, too, and he stepped forward taking a small pinch of the smoky crystals – raw sea salt that was obtained by slowly drying sea water in leather and wood bowls – and placed them on his tongue. He then took one of the glasses and tossed the contents – a dark, sweet plum wine that was fermented in calves’ bladders and had never been encased in anything else until it was poured into the glass from which he now drank – into his mouth swallowing the wine and salt to seal the covenant of hospitality. He gently nudged Tina’s arm to prompt her to eat the salt and drink the wine, too; and, surprisingly, she did so without hesitation. Finally Mr. Albescu did the same.

          He nodded to the serving woman and said, “Thank you, Sala. You may be excused.” The little woman bowed her head to each of them in turn and departed.

          The ritual concluded, Mr. Albescu extended his hand toward Ben and they shook. Albescu’s hand was smooth and cool, but his grip was firm and hard. He extended his hand to Tina, too, but instead of shaking her hand, when she moved to take his, he lifted it to his mouth and daintily kissed her knuckles. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I have not entertained such a beautiful woman in my home in years; nay, since I left my ancestral home I have not entertained one so engaging. You have the look of the Old World about you, my dear woman. A woman of substance, strong and robust, able to stand beside men as an equal, and yet soft as a dove’s wing at the appropriate time.” He kissed her knuckles once again before returning her hand. Tina was blushing and, Ben could see, quite taken with their host.

          Ben could barely keep from laughing aloud. A woman of substance, indeed! Tina was a tall woman with big bones and more than enough flesh to fill them out. She was loud and uncouth, and like everyone else in her family, bore all the markings of the nouveau riche. Tina’s family was one of the landowners in Ellis County who made a killing leasing the drilling rights to an energy company that wanted to tap directly into the Barnett Shale natural gas reservoir. More than once Ben had gibed that her family’s name ought to be Clampett – after the Beverly Hillbillies – rather than Crawford. Until the gas boom, her family had been typical Texas Bible-Belt hicks whose highest ambition in life was to eventually upgrade their trailer to a doublewide. For instance, Ben had instructed Tina to dress conservatively for this meeting; but unfortunately his idea of conservative and hers had little in common. She wore a satiny pink blouse that showed all together too much of her ample bosom, a short black skirt with a ruffled hem, black fishnet stockings and a pair of garish pink patent leather sandals with five-inch heels and straps around her ankles. Over this ensemble – and especially in her cleavage – she had liberally applied a sweet-smelling body spray that was laced with gold glitter. Her brassy red hair was sprayed into immobility in a low beehive that was twenty years out of fashion. The final product bore little resemblance to an attorney’s wife, or a millionaire’s daughter, but would have been quite acceptable for a cocktail waitress or a country-and-western singer.

          “If you would accompany me, my new friends, into our sitting room, I shall introduce you to my family and then we shall – as you say in America – get down to business,” Albescu said as he placed a hand in the small of the back of each of his guests and walked between them through oversized double doors into the next room.

           Albescu ushered his guests into the sitting room where waited his family. Two high-backed ox-blood leather chairs sat on either end of a long low mahogany table. On each of the long sides of the table were two matching settees. One wall of the room was taken up by a floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookcase housing dozens of books and several small pieces of pottery. The centerpiece of the bookcase was a marble bust of a man with a long thin face, layers of ringlets flowed from his head and from his chin. The cheeks were bare as was the upper lip. The eyes were large and slightly slanted; and the nose was long, thin and patrician. The full lips were turned up just slightly at the corners giving the man a look of wry amusement rather than a genuine smile. Another wall was dedicated to a huge fireplace with a mahogany mantle, above which hung a framed map. That the map was old was obvious from the muted colors and the fact that it was encased in a frame behind clear, thick glass to protect it from the atmosphere. The third wall of the room was given over exclusively to bay windows in front of which sat a small upright piano made from – the theme was apparent – mahogany.

          “Ah, I see you have a liking for the bust, Mrs. Parker,” Albescu said. Tina had indeed been looking at the statuette, but not because she liked it; quite the opposite, it gave her chills. The eyes were disturbing and the expression was cruel. “It is the patriarch of our family, Arma Ilie Albescu. It is one of only a handful of items we brought from our ancestral home to our new home.” He motioned across the room to the map, “This is another. It is a map of the land surrounding our home, Alba County. Like your home, Texas, many countries have laid claim to our little parcel of ground, but we pay them little mind. The Dacia, the Romans, the Huns, the Ottomans, Hungarians and Romanians. They have come and they have gone; yet we remain. We are Vlachs and when the Carpathians themselves have worn away to dust, we shall be there to mark their passing.”

           “Brother, please, you shall give the impression that we are an intemperate and uncivilized people,” a woman with a thick Eastern European accent said. “Please, dear guests, you must excuse my brother. He is fiercely loyal to our kind; and the indignities we have suffered at the hands of invaders, he does not easily forget.”

          In the chair facing the door and away from the bay windows was a woman who appeared slightly older than Mr. Albescu but no less genteel. She wore a black evening gown and had her gray-white hair done up as if for an evening with the queen. Jewels that were so red they were almost black were woven throughout her hair, matching her earrings and necklace. She did not stand as the guests approached but offered her hand – palm down – to Ben as Mr. Albescu said, “May I present to you my sister, the Arma Dalca Albescu.” Following Albescu’s lead, Ben brushed his lips over the Arma’s knuckles and bowed deeply. “Sister, this is Benjamin Parker and his wife Christina. Mr. Parker is one of the associates in the law firm of Hammer, Price and Lee. They are handling our business affairs in our new country.”

          The Arma bowed her head very slightly as she closed her eyes. When she looked back up she met Ben’s eyes and said, “It is my pleasure, Mr. Parker.”

           Albescu then turned their attention to the young woman sitting on one of the settees. “And this is my daughter, Ligia.”

          The girl did not offer her hand to either of the guests, but graced them with a warm smile and said, “How nice to meet you both.” Ligia had the smooth skin of a china doll, much fairer than either her father or aunt. Her hair was rich and dark, framing her face and neck and complimenting the pale skin rather than washing it out. Her eyes were a dark chocolate brown and drew Ben in like a moth to a flame. She was petite without appearing frail and she looked as if she was created to be held by a man.

          Like her aunt, Ligia had a very pronounced accent that reminded Tina of the gypsy women she had seen in movies as a child. She glanced over at Mr. Albescu’s sister just to satisfy herself the old woman bore no physical resemblance to the old fortune-teller in the Lon Chaney, Jr. movie “The Wolfman.” The girl would have easily blended in with the typical gypsy trollops depicted by Hollywood and Tina took an instant dislike to the girl, giving her only the slightest nod in response to Ligia’s greeting.

          When the introductions were finished, Mr. Albescu motioned to the empty settee and invited, “Please be seated.” He sat in the other chair across the length of the table from his sister. The settee was smaller than the American loveseat and would only accommodate Tina and Ben if they sat much more closely than they were accustomed.

          I swear Tina’s ass is getting bigger by the week, Ben thought as he tried to find a satisfactory position. Pretty soon it’s not going to matter how rich her old man is. No amount of money is worth sleeping with Jabba the Hut!

          Once he was certain that no more could be done to make himself more comfortable, Ben placed his briefcase on the table, opened it and took out a manila envelope that contained the reason for this trip. He withdrew several documents from the envelope and passed them to Mr. Albescu. “These are the deeds for the land you are purchasing. See here,” he pointed a ballpoint pen to several paragraphs on the second page of the deed, “It describes the property, its location and the total number of acres. You are buying ten point six five acres of land in Wood County that has a frontage of one-hundred-six feet onto Texas Highway 17, three point one miles west south west of Alba…”

          “Ah, yes, Alba,” Albescu interrupted, “It was no coincidence that we chose that area in which to settle and make our new lives. I remember the thrill I experienced when, looking through an almanac of maps of this state of yours – and now ours, too – I saw a little town of the same name as our old home. We Vlachs are a very simple people and we still cleave to our beliefs in omens and portents; and we took this as a sign that we hade made the correct decision in coming here. Oh, but I have interrupted you, my friend. Please, please continue.”

          Ben continued to cite the legal description of the property in detail until he had finished on the thirteenth page. “Now, if you will sign here and here,” Ben pointed to places where his secretary had attached little yellow arrows to the papers, “And then once more here. Very good, thank you.”

          Ben replaced the signed document into his briefcase and presented the next to Mr. Albescu.

          “This is a bank draft for the purchase price of the land, our attorney’s fees, filing fees, property taxes for the first year and the instigating fee to allow the contractor to begin work on your new home. If you’ll sign here,” he indicated the bottom of the draft and Albescu signed, “And initial here.” Ben pointed to a space on the accompanying document where Albescu affixed his initials.

          Ben replaced the last of the papers into his briefcase, secured the two latches and made to stand up. “Well, that’s all there is to it, Mr. Albescu. The contractor will begin work Monday morning and, as per the agreement, we will release partial payment to him when he has completed fifty percent of the work and a final release of funds on the day you take possession of the home.”

          Ben extended his hand but Mr. Albescu motioned for him to reseat himself.

          “Oh, please be seated and let us commune as civilized folk. I find it quite vulgar to conduct business so quickly and part so soon. Please, indulge a newcomer and his family. Let us speak of the past and the present so we may journey into the future together as friends and companions,” Albescu said.

          Ben sat back down on the settee, placing his briefcase upright beside his leg. “Very well, Mr. Albescu, we are at your service.”

          Tina had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the business – not that Ben minded, quite the opposite – so he stole a sidewise glance at her. She was sitting next to him, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, but she was staring at Mr. Albescu’s sister and making no effort to conceal her gaze. She looked like a deer caught in the middle of the road at night, transfixed by the approaching headlights and its imminent doom. Her demeanor disturbed Ben. He had never seen her show fear for anything. She was, by nature, aggressive, yet she sat here in this stranger’s home looking for all the world like she wanted to run screaming into the night.

          Mr. Albescu cleared his throat and broke Ben’s reverie.

          “I was asking, Mr. Parker, how long you and your lovely wife have been married,” he said.

          “Ten years this March,” Ben said and put his arm around Tina’s shoulders – he could feel her trembling – and pulled her close, “Ten glorious years.” God, I sound like the Count on Sesame Street. “Eight! Nine! Ten! Ten glorious years! Bwa-ha-ha-ha!” He tried to laugh, but what came out was more of a twitter than a laugh.

          “And do you have children?” Albescu queried.

          “A son, Saul. He’ll be six in June,” Ben answered.

           “Saul, and your name is Benjamin, and your wife’s Christina,” Albescu smiled and stroked his chin, “I see a pattern. You and your wife are religious, yes?”

          “My wife’s family is, yes. Me? Not so much,” Benjamin said, “I believe a man makes his own way in the world and whatever comes after is better dealt with then than now. You know, cross that bridge when you get there. But, of course, I’m always ready to welcome any help the big guy upstairs wants to toss my way.” He smiled his courtroom smile, “Provided there aren’t too many commandments attached. A man has to have a few sins every now and then, right?”

           Albescu frowned and said, “It is not wise to neglect the wellbeing of one’s soul, is it sister?”

          The Arma nodded gravely, “Our family has learned that lesson – how do you say, Mr. Parker? – the hard way. One of our ancestors had a grave misunderstanding with the Church and it did not turn out well; not well at all for any concerned. No, Mr. Parker, I do not recommend allowing one’s soul to wither; they seldom regain their strength once it is lost. Do you not agree, Christina?”

          Tina jerked as if pricked, but recovered herself quickly and said, “Yes, ma’am, it always a good idea to stay on speaking terms with God.”

           Albescu smiled, giving his guests another look at his pronounced dentition, “Ah, but we were speaking of children, yes? And, perhaps the two subjects are intertwined. Children are God’s gift to us, yes? My Ligia has brought nothing but joy into my life.” He beamed at his daughter who blushed palely under his gaze. “She is beautiful, yes? So like her mother at that age. My Sweet Ligia was sixteen when she came across. Ah, such beauty captured in its full bloom.”

           “Oh?” Ben said. “I was under the impression that you had only recently immigrated.”

           “Excuse me, please,” Albescu apologized, “I have used a colloquialism with which few outside our own community are familiar. But you are correct, we have only just come into this fair land. In the course of our traveling in Europe, my sister and I encountered a businessman and his wife who were from Tyler. After we had supped, they invited us to visit them in their home and it would have been impolite to refuse,” he gestured grandly to encompass the entirety of the home, “They enjoyed their holiday so much that they decided to take another, more extended, trip this time and have graciously allowed us to stay here in their absence while our new home is being built.”

          The Arma said, “Once we had seen this fair land, we found we simply could not return to our little home in the mountains. I believe I have heard the saying, ‘How are you going to keep them down on the farm after they’ve seen Paris?’”

          “Yes, ma’am, it was from a song about country boys going to war and not being comfortable in their humble surroundings once they returned home,” Ben said, “But it was long before my time.”

          “It is a truth, though; and there are things in this world that can survive the passage of time. Is that not so, Arma?” Albescu inclined his head in respect to his sister.

          “Too true, my brother,” she said.

          “If I may ask, you introduced your sister as ‘the’ Arma. Is that a title?” Ben asked.

           Before Albescu could respond his sister spoke, “It is a hereditary title passed from eldest to eldest in our family. My father was the Arma of Alba County as was his mother before him. When he passed through the veil beyond, the title fell to me. I am, as you can see, no longer a young woman and I have borne no children of my flesh; however, when I too pass beyond the veil, the title will pass to Ligia as my heir and child of my blood. The title is only ceremonial now, but once the Arma was the protector of the weak and the executioner of the vile. Alas, it is one of the old ways that have been forgotten.” She paused and Ben could imagine her staring through the ages to a time when the only law was the law of the strong. It took little imagination to picture this woman clad as an ancient warrior princess wielding a bloody sword among the unrighteous and unrepentant.

          “But that only partially answers your question. The title precedes my name, Dalca. In the old language Dalca means ‘thunder.’ My brother’s name is Sorin, which means ‘lightning.’ We are twins, you see, and I came into the world scant moments before him. When the time came to baptize us and give us our Christian names, my mother called us Thunder and Lightning because whenever one of us would cry out, the other would follow, and the two of us together would rival the fury of a storm.” She smiled for the first time that evening and her smile was no less toothsome than her brother’s. “To this day, when one of us is hurt or is happy or experiences any strong emotion, the other can feel it. I believe that, as we came into this world together, so shall we leave it one day.”

          “Oh, Dalca, please do not speak so!” Ligia cried.

          “Yes, precious sister, please. You are upsetting our guests. Why I dare say all the color has gone out of dear Christina’s face,” Albescu said. Ben looked at Tina and saw it was true. She was as pale as he had ever seen her, including after the eighteen hours of labor and the loss of blood when Saul had been born.

           Albescu stood and clapped his hands saying, “Sala! Bring us a bottle of tuica!”

          The wizened old woman appeared almost immediately with a tray that held a large flattened decanter of clear liquid and five snifters. She sat the tray on the table and left. Albescu poured a generous amount of the liquor into one of the snifters and offered it to Tina. When she did not at once reach for the glass, he leaned over, took her hand and placed the glass in it. “Here, my dear. Drink this. It will restore your vigor. You will enjoy it, I promise. It is tuica, a quite heady liquor distilled from the plum wine you drank when you arrived. Drink, my dear. Drink.”

          Tina took a cautious sip of the liquor and stopped. She smiled and said, “It is very good, Mr. Albescu. Thank you.” She drained the rest of the tuica from the glass and then raised it to Albescu, “May I have some more, please?” Albescu and his sister laughed heartily as he refilled her glass, and then filled one for Ben, too. He sat back down, crossed his legs and steepled his fingers as his elbows rested on the chair’s arms.

           “Aren’t you going to have some, Mr. Albescu? Or you, Arma?” Tina asked. The tuica had broken through the shell of fear and discomfort in which Tina had been hiding, given a rosy flush to her cheeks and loosened her tongue as well.

          “Oh, no, I am afraid not. We seldom drink… liquor,” Dalca said, “And never before our evening meal.”

          Tina drained the glass a second time, and then proclaimed, “Oh, well, more for me, right, Mr. Albatross?”

          Ben blanched at her faux pas, surprised she had succumbed to the alcohol so quickly. He had taken a drink from the glass given to him by his host, found the tuica quite pleasant, but he resisted the urge to take more than the token sip. He placed the snifter on the tray and made as if to rise. “You have been a charming host, Mr. Albescu, but as you can see my wife has grown… fatigued, and I think it is time for us to take our leave.”

          He bent to pick up his briefcase while Mr. Albescu said, “Well, if you must go, then you must. However, you have yet to fulfill your portion of the covenant of hospitality.”

           Before his fingers could wrap around the handle of his briefcase, Ben heard Tina gasp and the glass she had been holding shattered as it hit the hardwood floor. He jerked his head around and looked at her, prepared to chastise her for her clumsiness; but the look on her face stopped him before he spoke the first word. Tina was once again wearing the deer-in-the-headlights look, but now the headlights were no longer those of a car, but rather a speeding freight train. The color so generously restored to her cheeks by the alcohol had drained away and her chin was trembling as if she was trying to speak but no words could be heard. Ben followed her stare over his shoulder to where Albescu was sitting.

          Their host was seated in the same position as he had been before, legs crossed, fingers steepled and elbows resting comfortably on the arms of the chair; but his face had changed. The eyes that had before been hazel were now a bright yellow and bisected by narrow, horizontal red pupils. His dark red lips were pulled back in a wicked grin exposing teeth that were even whiter and wider than he had thought them to be, with upper canines whose points now extended below the lower lip, sharp as daggers. Between his teeth was a narrow, forked green tongue that flicked upwards and downwards like a viper’s tongue as it tested the air.

          “Oh, my God!” Ben yelled and fell backward onto the settee next to Tina. As if the fall was a cue, Tina closed her eyes, opened her mouth and let out a scream that would have made a banshee envious. A blur of motion flashed in front of Ben’s face and as quickly as it began, Tina’s scream was stifled. Behind the settee, leaning over Tina’s shoulder with one hand across Tina’s throat was Albescu’s daughter Ligia. She too had changed and her visage now mirrored that of her father’s. Her fingers were sunk into the flesh of Tina’s throat, constricting it and preventing any sound louder than a muffled gurgle to escape. Ligia’s forked tongue was running across the exposed flesh between Tina’s throat and breasts.

          “Oh, Papa, Papa,” Ligia purred like a demonic kitten, “She tastes so sweet, just like the pastries Vaduva used to make, all sugary on the outside and so warm and gooey on the inside. I can barely restrain myself.” She continued to lick all around Tina’s throat and breasts, cooing and moaning in ecstasy.

           “Now mind your manners, child,” the Arma said as she stood for the first time that evening. She was no less a monster than the other two Albescus and, Ben thought, she projected an even cooler and more menacing aura than her kin. She stood before Ben and leaned in closely, her nose scant inches from his, so close he could smell her breath. It smelled like rotten eggs and wet dogs: sulfuric and bestial. “Now, Mr. Parker, the time has come to pay your debt. What part of yourself shall you give in return for our hospitality?”

          Ben’s mind was moving more quickly than it ever had before. The problem was that it was doing nothing constructive, but rather was flying in circles, around and around; the primitive within him unrestrained, while the rational was huddled in the corner denying the existence of monsters in a modern world. “I… I… I didn’t know. Y-y-you can’t hold me to that. It wasn’t real. It was just some ritual,” he pleaded.

          “‘Just some ritual?’” the Arma said, “Of course it was a ritual. There are powers in rituals and you bound yourselves to us through it. Do you not remember speaking the words? Eating the salt? Drinking the wine? Did anyone force you enter our home? Did anyone compel you to enter the covenant? No, you exercised your free will and now you are bound by it.”

          “But I didn’t know it was real! I didn’t know! I! Didn’t! Know!” He screamed the last three words at the top of his voice.

          “You are a lawyer, Mr. Parker, are you not?” Sorin Albescu said, his voice sounding like the snake, Kaa, from “The Jungle Book”; but this was no Walt Disney cartoon. “You should know the importance of becoming familiar with a contract before signing it.” He unclasped his hands and made a dismissing gesture, “Perhaps, if you choose wisely, you will have an opportunity to put this lesson to work in the future. So, what shall be your gift to me?”

          Ben simply could not reign in his panic and think clearly. “Somewhat of myself.” He wants “somewhat of myself.” Blood? Yes, perhaps that might do, but how can I live without my blood? Will he take it all or only a part? I can’t take another chance and be wrong again. Blood? Flesh? Memories? Oh, God, help me! Help me!

           Albescu grinned at his discomfort, obviously enjoying the turmoil he was inflicting on Ben. “Please, Mr. Parker, take all the time you need. We are in no hurry. Although,” he looked thoughtful, “I do need those documents filed tomorrow…” He looked thoughtful and then called, “Sala! Come here, please.” The small man who had parked their car appeared.

          I thought the woman was Sala, Ben thought, maybe they’re both Sala. Maybe… Maybe… Oh, God help me!

           “Sala, take Mr. Parker’s briefcase back to his office. Make sure the documents are where they need to be to be filed in the morning. You may take the Jaguar if you like. I know how much you enjoy driving a fast car and I am certain our hosts will not mind. After all, they no longer have need of transportation, right?” He smiled paternally at the small man who returned the smile. Ben saw that the small man’s teeth were black and broken and little pieces of something – Oh, God, is that flesh? – were stuck between them. He picked up Ben’s briefcase and, after bowing to his master, left the sitting room through the still open double doors.

          Oh, God! Oh, God! Help me and my wife, please! Ben prayed silently. And then a thought struck him: Me. And my wife. Tina was his wife; she was a part of him. Flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone, the saying went. Only for a fraction of the smallest moment did he feel guilt for considering what was now clear in his thoughts. Before he had a change of heart he stammered, “I… is… um… Is my wife an acceptable gift? May I leave her here in exchange for your hospitality?” His voice grew stronger and more confident the more he spoke; the attorney inside him was making his case.

           Albescu and his sister exchanged smiles. Ligia was still giving all her attention to Tina’s chest and did not look up.

          Tina opened her eyes and stared at Ben. She seemed to have recovered some of her faculties and the look she gave him was equal parts hurt and hate. She tried to speak but Ligia’s fingers still prevented anything more than the barest stream of air to pass, sufficient to keep Tina breathing but nothing more.

          “Yes, I believe she will do quite nicely,” the Arma said.

          “I accept your gift with thanksgiving and declare your part of our covenant completed,” Albescu bowed solemnly.

          Ben exhaled, obviously relieved, and stood to leave. He walked across the floor but before he reached the double doors, Albescu gestured and the doors closed in front of Ben. He turned around, panic returning to his face and voice, “You said I could go! You said our covenant was complete!”

          “So I did,” Albescu said as his green forked tongue ran across his lips again, “But there were three parties to this covenant and it cannot be fulfilled until your wife’s part in it has been completed.”

          Over the unsettling sound of Ligia’s lapping and smacking, Tina made a noise that sounded like she was choking, until Albescu and Ben looked at her. Only then did they see that she was not struggling for breath but was laughing. Ligia’s fingers were keeping the sound from manifesting as it normally would.

          “And you, Mrs. Parker, what part of yourself do you choose to give in exchange for my hospitality?” Albescu asked.

          She could not speak, but she made her choice clear. The malevolent look on her face was no less than the depraved glow in the Arma’s eyes and the satisfaction she expressed was greater even than Ligia’s noisome gratification. Ben screamed and pounded on the double doors with no effect as Tina lifted her finger and pointed at him.

          “I accept your gift with thanksgiving and declare our covenant now fulfilled,” Albescu said. He waved his hand in the air and the lights dimmed as the Albescu family began their evening meal.

---

Quid Pro Quo was originally published in

 

Threshold

 

           Copyright © 2010 by Curtis Leon Collier

 

          All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system without the express written permission of the copyright holder except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

           

           Certain characters in this work are historical figures, and certain events portrayed did take place. However, this is a work of fiction. All of the other characters, names and events as well as all places, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

           

          The digital version of this book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you are reading a digital version this book and did not purchase it, it was not purchased for your use only, or you have not purchased the print version of this book, then you should visit Lulu.com, Amazon.com or the author’s website and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

           

          ISBN: 978-0-9826669-0-6

 

           

 

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