The fat guy was bloody and staggering but he kept his hands up. Roberto Martinez was a local small time dealer down here in Nuevo Laredo.

A small time guy, trying to become a big time guy. Well, he didn't look so big now.

Roberto was six feet tall and weighed around two-fifty. He was overweight and out of shape and was on the high side of forty.

There was no way Roberto Martinez belonged in a dirt filled circular ring, usually used for cock fighting, in a bare knuckle fist fight with a professional featherweight boxer. But that's just where he was.

The unnamed featherweight leaped forward and landed a beauty of a left hook-right cross combination to Roberto's face. Sweat, blood and spit flew in a spray.

Where Roberto was, was a hell of a bad place to be. I was in just as bad a place as he was, only I wasn't being pounded on yet. He was in the ring taking his licks and I was chained to a post. My turn was next.

We were in the pit.

A place only whispered about on the streets of Laredo. Now I'd found out this place was real. A complete nightmare of a place. I was fairly certain that this was where my living would come to an end.

Somewhere around thirty men sat on benches or stood and howled as the fat man took a slow methodical beating from his younger faster opponent. I didn't want to look. But what the hell else was I going to look at.

The ring was twenty-five feet across. It was an octagon that had walls made out of railroad ties. The walls of the octagon were five feet high. Where there were gaps between the ties, human skulls grinned out at me. They had been shoved into the spaces between the wood and mortared in with what looked like red mud. Four poles with torches on top were at the sides of the octagon. The poles were as big around as telephone poles.

My arms were chained around one.

Roberto showed some fire and charged the smaller man swinging wide awkward off-balance blows that were easily avoided and stepped away from. At least he was trying, I thought.

The flickering torch light was too uneven to tell exactly what the quick featherweight did, but the results were awful to see. It looked like when Roberto missed a really huge right hand, that the featherweight slipped underneath it and pivoted to his own left, then buried his right fist to the wrist in Roberto s gut.

A collective Oooooo came from the watchers at ringside. Roberto made a gagging noise and farted loudly. He really ripped off a big one. He slid down to his knees.

The guys at ringside were laughing. Roberto held his hands up and begged the smaller man to not hit him anymore. He went to stand back up and his stomach made another heave and a squishy Brrrrrrrrp sound came from him. Roberto was crying now. Shit ran out of the legs of his pants into the dirt at his feet. The guys at ringside were having a hell of a time now. Laughing like maniacs.

I didn't see anything funny at all.

Robert had only tried to sell a little dope in Esteban De Jesus territory and this is what they were doing to him. What In the hell did Esteban have planned for me.

I'd fucked his woman for god's sake.

* * *

It seemed like a good idea when my friend, Mike Lopez, suggested we head south of the border and get some easy fights down there. Neither one of us could get boxing licenses in Texas anymore.

Lopez lost his license because he was getting knocked out too often. The commission doctors were afraid he was going to get killed. Actually most of his K.O. losses weren't legit. It wasn't that Mike was getting paid to take dives. They don't pay guys with records as bad as his to lay down. It's just assumed he's going to wind up on his ass no matter what he's paid.

With Mike Lopez it was a matter of motivation. If he was starting to take a few solid shots and knew more was on the way, he'd go to the floor and roll around and look for all the world like serious brain damage had been done to him. With a record like six wins and twenty-five losses he wasn't angling for a title shot anyway. So he figured, why get yourself hurt for a few bucks.

When Mike fought, he always gave the guys something to talk about later in the bars. You just knew somebody was going to be telling his buddies, "Damn, you see that boy in there floppin all over the floor. He was fucked up."

My license was jerked for different reasons. I was training in a kickboxing gym and got to like using my feet too much. After I'd been disqualified for kicking in two bouts the commission gave me a written warning that any further fouls of that sort would cause the revocation of my boxing license.

So I didn't kick the next guy.

In a bout in Tyler, a . When he came in firing punches to finish me off I met him with a good solid elbow to the kisser and a head butt to the nose. His nose crunched like a carrot being snapped in half. He went down and out. I won the fight but lost the bout and my license.

So we went down to Mexico.

I needed to make some money and I wasn't about to get no damn job.

Mike took me to a gym in Nuevo Laredo owned by Pepe Garcia. It was Pepe's El Boxeo Campions or something like that. I don't speak Spanish. The best I can do is ask for cervesas, taquitos and bonitas. Usually in that order.

Mike did the talking for me. As far as I understood, we were going to have tryouts to appear in local bouts. Around here, the shows had a mixture of kickboxing and boxing. So if I couldn't resist the temptation to lay my foot up-side a guys head, hell I'd just fight as a kick boxer.

Pepe's gym was a sweat box and smelled like a sweaty armpit. The place was hotter than hell, probably over a hundred. There were two heavy bags being pounded on, two speed bags being slapped around and one ring in the center of the floor, where two guys were beating the crap out of each other.

All the fighters in there were dark skinned, sweaty and looked pissed off. As hot at it was, I understood why.

Two guys who didn't look like they belonged were standing off to the side watching the guys in the ring. One was Tall and thin. He wore a pinstriped three piece suite. He was shaking his head no, as he watched the two boxers. I later found out he was Esteban De Jesus.

The other guy was built like me. Stocky around six foot and one hundred and ninety pounds. He was Carlos, Esteban's body guard. Both of them, like the boxers, had dark hard faces but something about Esteban was down right scary. If a snake could have been turned into a man, he would have had Esteban's face.

Mike was called to the ring to do his round of sparring to see if he would be allowed to fight on the next card. The guy Mike was against didn't appear particularly fast. But he must have been fast enough because he had Mike on the canvas in less than thirty seconds.

This time Mike wasn't faking it either. As I watched Mike try to clear the cobwebs from his brain I was wondering if he had been lying to me about going down on purpose in those other fights. Whatever the truth was, he was finished here as a fighter. They weren't going to pay anyone to fight who couldn't make it through one round of sparring.

It was my turn and I climbed through the ropes and someone clapped their hands and we were at it. The guy that came at me was shorter than me. He looked a little soft around the middle but he threw a left hook that I caught on the shoulder and my arm went numb.

Damn, he could hit!

I spent a minute circling and jabbing until the feeling in my right arm came back. The other guy wasn't doing much of anything but posing and grinning at me.

I decided to wipe that grin off his face with a straight right and found out, that was what he'd been waiting for. He slipped under my right and ripped off a left hook to my ear that had me seeing stars and planets and constellations. This boy had me taking a trip on the express train to outer space.

I staggered and the guy came at me wild, flailing away. I grabbed him and he thought I was going for a clinch so he pushed me off. I got hold of his head and jerked him off balance and pulled his head down while jumping up with my knee.

My knee rearranged his dental work. All kinds of things crunched when my knee met his face. This fight was over.

I was halfway climbed out of the ring when I came to my senses. Esteban and Carlos were standing in front of me. Mike was trying to translate what they were saying but my brains were so scrambled what he was saying sounded like Spanish too. I must of looked like an idiot for the minute that it took my mind to completely come back.

But one thing got through to me. Esteban wanted to pay me a lot of money to work for him. After a minute or two he started speaking a heavily accented broken English.

Mike took the gloves off me.

The gist of what Esteban said to me was that he would pay me five hundred dollars a week to be a bodyguard for him.

I said yes to it.

He didn't want Mike.

When I left Mike Lopez at Pepe's gym and climbed into the back seat of Esteban's chauffeur driven Cadillac I never saw him again.

He was the lucky one.

* * *

Esteban De Jesus Jumped down from his bench on the side of the ring to the dirt floor where Roberto Martinez was standing and shaking and sobbing. He carried a wooden bat with steel spikes sticking out of it. The featherweight stood back and shadowboxed.

Roberto went to his knees and was making praying motions as he cried to Esteban.

Esteban looked at me. In his thick accented English he said, "He begs me for mercy. Should I give it to him?"

"It wouldn't bother me if you let him go," I told him.

He laughed. "No, that wouldn't bother you," He said. "And maybe, I would be so kind as to let you go also. Correct?"

Esteban turned back to Roberto. He said something to him in Spanish and Roberto nodded his head several times saying, "Si, Si." At this point I think Roberto would agree to just about anything.

Esteban took a checkbook and pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He threw them to Roberto, who started writing a check as fast as he could.

Esteban turned to me. "I give him the chance to pay for his life," Esteban said. "If he gives me everything he has, then he lives."

Shaking, Roberto held the check out to Esteban who snatched it from his hand. He looked at it and smiled. He shouted the figure to the spectators and paraded around the perimeter of the ring with the check held high in the air.

When close he held the check out to me. It read, seventy-five thousand American dollars. "How much will you pay?" Esteban asked.

"I don't have shit," I told him.

"Then you have a serious problem."

He folded the check and put it in his pocket. The flickering torch light shown in Esteban's eyes as he looked into my face. His smile was cold. His eyes were the eyes of a reptile.

He leaned close. "The money," He whispered, "It's not enough."

Two quick steps took him back to the still kneeling Roberto Martinez. Esteban swung the bat in a wide arc and smashed it into the side of Robert's head. It made the sound of a watermelon being busted open. Roberto was knocked to his back. His legs kicked out in spasms. Roberto looked like he was trying to dog paddle up into the air from his back. He was making wheezing, gurgling noises.

Esteban went to the side of him and like someone splitting firewood with an ax, he brought the nail studded bat up over his head then slammed it down into Roberto's face. It made a squishy sound when the bat landed and Roberto's head busted open. His brains were bare to the world and looked like a mixed gray and red stew. His crushed face was to the side toward me. One eyeball had jumped out of it's socket and hung on his cheek by tendons. It stared at me.

Roberto's legs quit kicking and vomit ran from his ruined mouth and nose.

Esteban looked down at Roberto. "You fucking stink," He said and shouted for him to be taken away.

Two burley guys leaped out of the stands and dragged Roberto's body away.

Esteban looked at me. "You want my Lilly," He said. "I don't blame you." He laughed. "There is much about her that you do not know. But, you will."

* * *

The first time I heard about this Lilly, I should of known she was trouble.

On the way out to Esteban's estate he told me my job would be guarding, his Lilly.

"She is the most valuable treasure on the Earth," Esteban said to me. "I will make this clear. If you should touch her, you better give your heart to god, because the rest of you will belong to me."

I did have to give Esteban credit. He warned me.

The estate was like something out of an episode of The Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. It was huge. There were two indoor pools and a lounge that looked like a large nightclub. There must have been a hundred rooms to the place and bodyguards dressed in three piece suits snapped to attention at each room we entered. There were many bonitas wandering the grounds as well. Each one that Esteban encountered tried to put her hands on him, to rub his neck or cheek or arm. He waved them off and paid them no mind. He acted like they were nothing to him.

Carlos took me to where the bodyguards quarters were. He directed me to a huge closet and told me where the showers were. He gave me instructions to clean up, change into a suit that fit and meet him back there in twenty minutes.

I did as he said. The clothes fit nice. I had to admit it felt good to have something clean on again.

Carlos showed me where my room was and where all the guards took their meals. Then I was given my work assignment.

I was lead down a long torch lit corridor to a large wooden door where a single man sat with a shotgun across his thighs. His back and the chair he sat in was to the door.

"At ten tonight, you will come and take this mans place," Carlos said. "You will guard this door until six in the morning when your replacement will come."

"Am I keeping someone in or out?" I asked Carlos.

He acted like he didn't hear me. He dismissed me from his presence. As I was leaving Carlos said, "Do you remember what Esteban told you in the limo?"

"Yeah," I answered.

"Don't forget it," He said and left.

* * *

Esteban had two of his burley bodyguards hold me while another unchained me from the post. I was thrown to the center of the pit. I climbed to my feet and dusted my pants off. Esteban sat on a bench with a bonita on his right. She rubbed her hands up and down the inside of his thigh. Carlos sat on Esteban's left.

He stood and raised his hands to the spectators. "We begin the second trial," He shouted.

Some spectators clapped. Some cheered.

In the flickering firelight from the four torches their faces looked disembodied floating in the dusty mist. It was like being in the middle of a gladiator tournament of the damned where the audience were demons from hell.

I yelled at Carlos, "You don't have to put me on trial. I did it. Hell yes, I fucked your damn Lilly. Bring her out here and I'll fuck her again. Right in the dirt, doggy style for ya."

The audience laughed. I thought that I'd really pissed Esteban off, but he just smiled.

"Let the trial begin," He yelled and a large guy with a machete came bounding down from the top benches. He leaped off the wall of the octagon and landed on his feet throwing dust into the air.

He had on a pair of blue jeans and no shirt. He had long tied back black hair and a muscular build. Slowly he started toward me.

I backed away from him in a circular motion keeping my left arm and leg toward him. A list of possible tactics to be used against an opponent with a large knife went through my mind. I had never taken any formal martial arts classes and learned my kicks from watching other guys do theirs and copying their form. So my list of tactics was woefully short.

"This seems like a fair fight," I yelled at Esteban. "Why don't you throw me a knife or something. At least we could make it interesting."

I kept circling.

"It’s a trial," Esteban shouted back. "Not a fight."

Like that'll make a whole lot of difference, I thought and the guy lunged in at me. He jabbed at me with the machete, then sliced backhand. I dodged back and ran to my own left.

He caught me a little on the right shoulder but the blade didn't bite very deep. I was running away as he got me. The cut stung, but I didn't even have time to touch it with my other hand. Didn't have to. Blood ran from the cut and ran down my arm. My hand was red and wet as I ran away in a circle. Blood dripped from my fingers.

The faces in the red dusty mist cheered. He pursued me and I ran around the perimeter of the octagon. I could tell my opponent wasn't as fast on his feet as I was. But, and this was a very big, but, he had that big fucking knife. He didn't need to be as fast as me. All he had to do was wait for me to slow down. Eventually I would.

* * *

The first two nights I stood guard were quiet. It was so quiet around Esteban's estate that I was thinking that pretty soon I could go stare crazy. Nothing happened.

I mean absolutely nothing.

When I tried to talk to any of the other guards they'd just give me a mean look and walk away. "Well, fuck you too," I'd tell them. That would get no response either.

When I tried to make time with any of the bonitas they would smile and then quickly walk away too. I was beginning to wonder if I was wearing the wrong underarm deodorant. I know I ain't the prettiest boy in the world but my face ain't as ugly as a warthog's asshole either.

I figured I could last a few weeks, then I'd take my pay and get the hell out of there.

The third night on guard, Lilly came to me. I was sitting with the back of the chair against the door, the front two legs and my feet in the air. I was thinking that these are some seriously boring fucks. There wasn't even a t.v. in the entire place. When I heard soft music.

The sound of the music was smooth and light. So light was it on my ears that for a while I thought the song was coming from inside my head. It was hypnotic. The music was only a voice singing. No words, just sounds. Mournful sounds, sung to a melody as natural as the wind or the surf rolling in on the beach.

The soft lilting melody touched me deep inside. It lifted my mind up and carried me away. I closed my eyes and felt like I was floating in warm water. Encased in a cocoon. Warm, safe, secure.

The warmth of the sad tragic sound of the song filled my mind, my senses. I was warm all over. The singing was coming from inside the room that I guarded. It drew me to the door. I slid my chair to the side and grasped the knob. The voice called to me.

"Come to me. Come to me. I am waiting."

I opened the door and entered a chamber of misty dark blue light. She waited for me on a deeply cushioned bed of silky blankets and huge pillows. Thin web-like material hung down from a ceiling lost in blackness. She beckoned me to her.

My senses swam. I felt intoxicated, like after smoking some really good weed. The gray fog was in my mind, stopping any control of thought or action. I went to her and took her in my arms. She was every woman I had ever dreamed of. Soft and smooth to the touch. Alive and hot in attitude. Skin that was cool.

I kissed her hard on the mouth forcing her lips open with my tongue. Then I ran my tongue and lips all over her body. Tasting her. Removing her clothes as I did. When she was naked she was perfection itself. Everything that I had ever hungered for in a woman. I was disrobed also.

I laid her down and parted her legs and she looked up into my eyes. Her dark eyes. Her sad eyes. I saw sadness for me there.

She whispered to me, "I am the mother of demons. You will lose your soul."

I was past caring and plunged into her. She reached up and touched my face. One tear ran from her eye as I pounded into her.

Then, she was laughing at me and strong arms grabbed me and pulled me off of her.

I was dragged to a dirty cell and thrown in. My clothes were thrown in to me later. After two meals, I was dragged out and taken to the pit.

* * *

The guy with the machete came at me and I moved away from him trying to stay away from the walls. I didn't want to take any chance of getting cornered. One mistake and my guts would be laying in the dirt in front of me.

Without thinking I wiped my hand across my face and almost blinded myself with my own blood. He swung at me and I stayed away while my eyes stung from the blood I'd wiped into them. A plan came to me about how to deal with this guy. Maybe not a very good plan, but better than no plan at all.

He was coming at me predictably. The faces in the dirt cloud around the ring started booing my running. This wasn't their ass on the chopping block. They could boo all they wanted to.

He slashed at me again. This time I stepped back one step and snapped out a hard right hand jab at his face that was short by a foot and a half. I wanted it to be.

The blood running down my arm into my hand was flung into the big boys eyes and face. He reacted instinctively and closed his eyes and brought both hands to his face.

I made a leaping jump at him and brought over a crunching overhand left to his jaw. He staggered. I followed and ripped a right hand to the other side of his face and as he fell I grabbed the machete from his limp grip and ripped it loose.

He went to his hands and knees.

I reared back and kicked him hard in the face. He was knocked to his back. The demonic faces in the mist cheered me on. Even Esteban clapped.

Holding the machete in my bloody right hand I saluted Esteban. "It's over," I told him. "I won."

He shook his head no. "It is a trial," He said again. "Show us what you are capable of." He indicated my opponent, who was starting to show some signs of life. Like he might try to sit up. Esteban's meaning was obvious.

"Yeah, I'll fuckin show ya," I said to Esteban.

I strode back to my opponent and stood over him. His eyes flickered open. He looked at me, eyes still glazed from having been knocked unconscious.

"Better you than me," I told him and jammed the machete down through his chest into his heart. I twisted the blade to the side then ripped it free.

There was only one set of hands clapping now. Everyone else was silent. Esteban was clapping.

"Good," Esteban shouted. "That was your last chance at redemption. Now I own you."

I didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about.

From out of the stands two more guys, both with machetes, jumped down.

They came at me quickly. The spectators were eerily silent.

These two guys were smaller than the first one. They were also a lot quicker. I tried slashing back at them but they knew what they were doing with these blades. They used them like short swords. The first cut that I took was to my left thigh.

It stung like hell and spurted blood. I was slowing down fast. My breath came in harsh barks. I took some more slashes and cuts. Nothing very deep. They were like surgeons working on me.

Dart in, slash, get out. Dart in, slash, get out. The pattern was repeated over and over again. There was nothing I could do about it. They were too damned fast. My arms were like lead. I could barely lift them. My legs were like tree trunks rooted to the ground.

They did not come in for the kill. They were just nicking me over and over. Before I knew it, I was bleeding from a dozen spots.

The torches flames made everything seem like it was moving and shimmering. Like maybe this was all just a dream or a nightmare.

They came at me. I was weak and staggering. I leaked out like a buckshot beer can.

Once more one of them jumped in and slashed me. On the side this time. I tried to cut him back but he was gone and I only sliced air. My legs were weak. My knees gave way. The red dirt rushed up and met my face, hard.

I crawled around on my hands and knees and they danced around me and carved me up like a thanksgiving turkey. Finally I collapsed completely to the dirt as my blood ran out and turned the red dirt even redder. I rolled over to my back too weak to even lift my head.

My two tormentors stood on both sides of me. Stars, phantom twinkling lights danced in front of my eyes. Unconsciousness and death was near.

Esteban appeared over me. He smiled. Lilly stood behind him.

He spoke to me. The words sounded like they came through a tube. But I heard them well enough. "A little history lesson," He said, "Before we take your soul. Lilly is Lillith or Lillitu, whatever. She was Adam's first wife. She was not satisfied by him and ran away to make love with the demons that roamed the world then. God cursed Lilly because she would not obey Adam. She must wander the Earth forever. Never dying. Never knowing the peace of death. She is the ultimate seducer. When you made love to her, that cursed your soul to hell. When you killed, when you could have spared the life offered you, you put yourself beyond redemption. You are ours now."

"When you drink Lilly's blood. And you will. You will die. But your soul will not be allowed to leave your body. You will slowly lose all human will and will exist only to serve Lilly and me. I gave Lilly a resting place in the comfort of what my wealth will buy her. She gives me, an army of slaves that cannot be killed. When the time is right I'll own the whole fucking world."

Lilly came to me then. She was just as beautiful as before, but she was different. There was no humanity in her now. She held no tear for me. She had seen what I was capable of.

She held her wrist out and sliced the vein open with her fingernail. She put her wrist to my lips and without hesitation I sucked in the sweet nectar of the ancient blood of the first woman.

* * *