Warren Murphy - The Arms of Kali

The loudspeakers annoyed Holly. It was hard to chant with words blaring at her, but she kept trying. "Kill for Kali," she said softly, trying to concentrate. "Kill for the love of Kali."

"Hey, baby," rumbled a voice in her ear. The owner of the voice was a middle-aged man wearing a raincoat.

Holly looked up at him, blinking. Was he the reason for her journey? Had Kali sent this man for her to kill? "Maybe you're the one," she said.

"You bet I am," the man answered. He pulled open his raincoat to expose a flabby naked body underneath.

Then he ran away, but the experience left Holly shaken. "It's a test," she told herself. "I am supposed to go to Denver. Kali has decreed it. And She knows all." On the plane, she sidled up to an elderly woman and asked if she could help her with anything. The lady punched her in the stomach. Then as the passengers were leaving the plane in Denver, Holly flashed a bright smile at a good-looking young man and offered him a ride to his hotel.

"The games and ploys of aggressive heterosexual females is something I find particularly disgusting," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"You'll do anything you can to get a man, won't you?"

"I was only offering-"

"Yes, I can see that you're very generous with your offers. Well, you can take that hairless perfumed carcass of yours and parade it around some singles bar. Some of us happen to prefer the pure beauty of our own gender."

"Faggot," Holly said, walking away.

"Breeder," he called after her. "And you smell bad, too."

In the Denver terminal, a teenager with red-and-blue streaked hair began to walk alongside her.

"Are you the one?" she asked in despair.

"The one and only," he answered. "Superman, doing it through the night, a whole lot of loving just waiting for you, and I work hard for the money. I am the One."

Her worries disappeared. "Thank Kali," she said. "Can I be your friend?"

"Sure," he said. "Give me all your money and I'll be your friend forever." He snapped open a switchblade, pressed it against her throat, and herded her into a narrow dark corridor. "Let's see some friendly greenbacks."

Holly shambled into Denver broke and disappointed. She had failed in her mission. Kali had selected her to serve in a unique and special way, and Holly had blown the opportunity. "Maybe I'll never be worth anything as a killer," she said in despair. As she walked into her parents' split-level suburban home, her mother saw Holly's tears and ran to comfort her.

"Poor baby," Mrs. Rodan said. "I know this is a trying time for both of us."

"Oh, get lost, Mother. Where's Father?"

"He's dead. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah. It's about time."

"Would you like some tuna-noodle casserole?" her mother asked.

"I'd rather eat barf."

"Yes, dear. The funeral's in an hour. I've had your good black dress cleaned."

"I'm not going to any funeral," Holly said.

"But, dear, it's your father."

"I didn't come here for any stupid funeral. I've got important things on my mind."

"Of course, dear. I understand," said Mrs. Rodan. Holly wandered aimlessly around the streets of Denver, pondering her obscure mission for Kali. If the statue had wanted her to leave the ashram, she reasoned, it must have been for a purpose, a serious purpose. But no one seemed to be available for killing. She had tried to be a faithful executioner, but things kept going wrong.

"A sign," she said aloud. "What I need is a sign." The sign came from the Mountaineer National Savings and Loan Association, which was inaugurating its first nighttime hours and having them commemorated by a bank robbery. The armed robber came fleeing through the doors of the bank with pistols blazing. He killed a policeman nonchalantly, fired into a crowd of onlookers, and dashed toward a tan Lincoln Continental parked half a block away. Holly was standing directly in front of the door on the driver's side of the car when he reached it. With a curse, he shoved Holly aside, tossing her into the line of traffic, and flung open the door.

As he got into the car, almost as an afterthought, he turned and pointed his pistol at Holly to kill her. Then a peculiar thing happened. A thin young man with thick wrists stepped between the two of them. Holly watched as the door on the driver's side of the car ceased to exist. Then the steering wheel magically spun off its column and embedded itself in the bank robber's stomach.

The young man then turned and appeared to stop an oncoming automobile five inches away from Holly Rodan's head by placing the heel of his shoe against the car's bumper.

The bank robber, hopelessly pinned in the car, watched, feeling his insides turn to mush. Then he felt himself being lifted from the seat by the thin man, moved so quickly he felt like a blur. He felt the air whoosh around him as he sailed through the air, back toward the Mountaineer National S. ded in a lump in the midst of a crowd of onrushing policemen, who pinned him to the ground. The last thing the bank robber saw was a reflection in a plate-glass window of the man who had stopped him.

Holly huddled on the street, her long hair strewn about her face like golden seaweed.

"Are you all right?" Remo asked as he bent over her. She looked up and gaped at him. "You're the one," she said.

"Oh, no." Remo stood up and skittered away from her. His back moved against a telephone pole. He couldn't breathe. A ghastly fear shook him to the pit of his stomach.

"Get away," he whispered as Holly Rodan rose and came toward him.

"No." Holly's voice was triumphant. "I finally understand. You're the reason She sent me here. I wasn't sent to kill. I was sent to bring you back. For Her. For Kali."

"Go away. I don't know what you're talking about. And besides, you smell like a steer."

"It's the scent of Kali. It's on my hair," Holly said. "Come, smell it."

"Go fumigate the county jail with your hair," Remo said. He edged farther away from her.

"Don't be afraid," Holly said, smiling sweetly. "I know about you. I know who you are."

"You do?" Remo said. Maybe now, maybe this time he could kill her. Maybe if the reason was strong enough, he could do it. Maybe if she knew too much, if she was a danger to CURE, to the country. Maybe then he could kill her.

"Who am I?" he said.

"You're Kali's lover. She selected you and She sent me here to bring you to Her," Holly said. She moved closer and wrapped her arms around Remo's neck. The scent of her hair disgusted and excited him. He felt a loathsome stirring in his loins.

"Go away," he said hoarsely. "Go away."

She rubbed her hand on his thigh and Remo felt his resistance drain away. Her hair was so close to his face, the smell so pungent. It was a smell of far away and long ago.

"Maybe you don't understand," she whispered into his ear, "but I do. I know your destiny. You must come with me. Follow me to Kali." She pulled him off the street and into a narrow twisting alley between two tall buildings. He felt powerless to resist.

"What are you called, Lover of Kali?" she asked.

"Remo," he said numbly.

"Remo." She savored the word. "I am Kali's messenger, Remo. Come to me. I will give you a taste of what She will give you." She kissed him. The sickening, perverted smell crawled into his nostrils and set fire to his blood.

"Take me," Holly said, her eyes glazed in a trance. "Take what Kali gives you." She pulled him down to the slimy bricks of the alley, littered with rotted cabbage leaves and coffee grounds and bird droppings. "Take me here, in the filth, for it is as She wishes." She opened her legs to Remo and then gasped as she felt his flesh burn inside her.

When it was over, Remo turned his face to the wall of the building. He felt ashamed and dirty. Holly took his hand, but he brushed it away as if it were a maggot. "I don't always do this on the first date," she said.