Chapter 2

That hideous afternoon

If there was something capable of driving Aurelio to his maximum levels of concentration, it was button football.

Ironically, he only found comfort playing with the elders. His own friends had little to no aptitude for the sport. They had grown up with videogames, hence they followed another line of logic. Aurelio didn't despise videogames; however, he didn't look down on button football as the rest of his generation did. Bruno and Gabriel, his closest friends, had tried to play a number of times, maybe because Aurelio's passion was somewhat contagious, but their skills were worthless. No matter how hard Aurelio tried to teach them. As for Gwyn, she'd always turn up her nose at the game, and would throw a tantrum as soon as she learned he hadn't come to the park because of the championship. Then again, he had been wandering if there was anything Gwyn could actually like at all lately.

Playing demanded technique. Someone who didn't know the sport could dully summarize it as "move your players with your disc, trying to score by getting the tiny ball across the keeper and inside the goal." It was not that simple, though. It was a bare necessity to know how much force one ought to apply on the disc in each and every varying situation, and no one had spent as much time as Aurelio mastering this art. He knew that applying too much pressure on a button right in front of the goal or moving a piece too softly about the midfield were often mistakes whose results were a broad advantage to the adversary. In this case, the adversary was represented by the Vasco da Gama's black buttons, controlled by Ol' Luis' deft hands; the elder player was rarely defeated in the championships.

People crowded all around Garrincha, and Genaro's yard was thronging as it only did on championship days. The whole neighborhood was there, along with some visitors from some farther neighborhoods. The championships were getting famous, stirring up, among other things, the curiosity in those who longed to remember or learn the forgotten art that was button football. Miss Lidia, the seamstress, came as she always did, bringing her husband alongside. He had played a great deal back in his day and had already applied to take part in the next month's tournament. Tomas, the old man from the drugstore, came with a cousin of his. And Laerte, who worked at the haulers, arrived with two sons the same age as Aurelio. However, they didn't care to play, because of shame or disinterest or whatever reason, limiting themselves to mere bystanders.

The championship tree was fiercely disputed that day. Aurelio, who ended up opting for the green buttons from the Paulistan club Palmeiras, had already won his first match, 5-2, against his grandpa's friend Odair, a button football enthusiastic, but not really well versed in the game. Aurelio was at the semifinals now, facing the other match's victor, Ol' Luis, who was a great wall in the field, moving the black Vasco's swiftly buttons; Aurelio was keeping his fingers wishfully crossed that he wouldn't have to play the finals against Fernando, another seasoned player.

Aurelio had already reached his touch limit (12 per player), so it was Ol' Luis' turn. The ball was lying a bit further from the midfield, towards Vasco's six-yard box. In an attempt to rid him of any danger and draft a counterattack, the elder man pressed his disc against the button to take the ball away... he scowled, pressing far too hard and making his button fly against Aurelio's pieces, completely missing the ball.

"Foul!" warned grandpa Genaro, refereeing the match from the side of the table.

The rules went stated that the collision of a button against a button from the other team was a foul. Elated with his good luck, Aurelio prepared to "kick" his free kick to the goal. The games ended whenever someone scored five and so far, they were tied 2-2. Any advantage would be welcome now.

His button positioned, Aurelio prepared his disc, eyes fixed on the table...

The button moved sharply, hitting the ball at the perfect speed. The ball crossed Garrincha... sliding past the rectangular block that was the keeper and hitting the white plastic net inside the goal.

Aurelio burst into euphoria along with the crowd. 3-2.

He actually burst so hard the table broke.

Aurelio backed off, startled. In the milliseconds that followed, he noticed his grandpa's beloved Garrincha had not been parted in two because of his celebration... but because something had hit it, something heavy, to say the least. Each half of the table had tilted and collapsed, wooden splinters flew all over the place. An apprehensive clamor sprang slowly from those who were watching the game, echoing all over the yard. The Vasco and Palmeiras buttons rolled through the laundry room in a black and green ruckus, some of them actually flew so high they ended up in the tub or somewhere over the washing line, which stood tall in the backyard, stretching from one end to the other.

On the other side of the table's wreckage, Ol' Luis stood still, his expression welled up in fear and frustration, mouth dropped open, chin slowly reaching the floor – his wrinkled, flaccid neck skin made the impression all the more evident. Aurelio was not sure whether the emotion Ol' Luis felt was because of the game's sudden end or the thing that had jumped on the game. Yet, when the boy's self-awareness took over, he found himself sharing the same sensations.

The monster looked human, the human looked monstrous. The creature wore common clothing, but they were torn inside out, as if its body had been augmented. The sleeves and chest of its shirt had been split open, just like the knees of its pants, as if they weren't able to restrain it. Down on all fours on the Garrincha's rubble, its hands and feet were actually saber sharp claws, one of them puncturing the heart of a Palmeiras' button, as if the plastic were a mere slip of paper. Another was driven deeply past the raggedy blue rubber that once had been a flip-flop. Aurelio peered at the creature's head, topped with black hair and humanoid in shape... but only in shape. Nearing its center, the face prolonged itself in a sort of muzzle, long golden whiskers blooming sideways. He caught a brief glimpse of its eyes... and in a moment of terror noticed its pupils weren't round nor humanlike, but dark slits, purely feline, glowing wildly as it studied poor Aurelio, its gaze conveying all of that indomitable fury and violence of an invincible predator. Its skin, he noticed, had a strange tonality... golden like the whiskers, covered by a shallow coverlet of fur and speckled in smudges of mixed hues of black and brown. Such aspects took over the surface of its body... ending in a thick, erratic, and wavering tail, wiggling treacherously from one side to the other over its waistline.

The spectators screamed in horror and Miss Lidia fainted. Aurelio froze, his heart pounding and thumping so heavily against his chest he thought it'd make its way up his throat and leap from his lips yelling, "Run for your lives!" He was standing before a sort of jaguar-man... thingy; and it didn't seem to dig the idea of making friends with anybody there, mainly with Aurelio.

At first, Aurelio didn't think much on the reason why the thing was there. He did think a lot on how to escape it, though – especially when, still on all fours, the creature turned its half-man half-feline body towards him, opening its mouth wide, fangs sharp as a knife, a thick sliver of saliva dripping down its jaws.

The monster was hungry.

Shaking and sweating, Aurelio kept retreating, slowly backing towards the yard's wall, always facing the slit-eyed creature – however much it frightened him – trying to figure out a way to tame, tranquilize, or, worst case scenario, fight it. At least that way he'd be able to draw the beast away from the surrounding crowd – mainly from his grandfather, who watched the whole thing in astonishment.

In a sudden and unexpected moment of coherent observation, Aurelio noticed that Tomas' cousin had simply evanesced away from the place... and, upon recalling the clothes the guy had worn, he concluded disbelievingly that his cousin was the jaguar-man!

The creature growled a soft yet fearsome roar as it cornered Aurelio, seeming totally oblivious about the other potential targets – giving them the opportunity to leave the backyard through the house, crying and yelling. Laerte's children carried Miss Lidia. Tomas also fled after shooting his transmuted relative an extremely disheartened glance. Only grandpa Genaro and Ol' Luis remained, the latter still static, as if his abilities to move had been broken along with the table. He'd make a fleshy jaguar snack that way, if the monster had eyes for anything besides Aurelio. For some reason or perhaps sheer bad luck, the teenager seemed to be creature's meal of choice.

Bewildered, the boy kept pacing backward until his hands touched the rough wall's surface behind him. Dead end. In the blink of an eye, the jaguar-man nullified the distance between them, growling heavily now. It bended its hind feet, about to lunge. Aurelio squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a droplet of sweat streak its way down his face, tickling the end of his nose and dropping to his lips. It tasted salty. Could that be the taste of death? He'd always thought life would taste sweet, regardless of all the hardships, so it made sense death to taste just the opposite...

Orphaned of the courage to watch it, he could already feel the beast's claws upon him... when he suddenly heard something different and unexpected.

Cadwch draw o fachgen, anghenfil erchyll!

It was an aged, masculine voice, nothing like his grandpa's or Ol' Luis'. But however strange and of tough pronunciation the language was, the person who had spoken was apparently very well versed in its usage. Scraps of seconds passed without Aurelio being massacred by his executioner, causing him to timidly open his eyes. Shivers ran down his spine when he saw the monster standing before him. Unfortunately it wasn't a bad dream. He turned to the wrecked button football table. In front of the two remaining elders, a third one arose, his arms stretched towards the beast. The boy recognized him immediately – the clothes and glasses had given him away – as old Mr. Campbell from the antique shop. Red and sweaty, he panted slowly while holding his cane steady in the other hand. Mysteriously, he didn't seem to need it to stand up straight anymore.

Pure doubt and befuddlement bathed the moment. Aurelio comprehended little to nothing of what was going on; Genaro and Luis even less. The beast itself looked messed in the head, letting out a quick noise off its feline throat which Aurelio swore on his life bore an interrogative tone.

Campbell was the only one not twitching a muscle, his arm still raised towards the creature. Maybe the heat of the moment had transformed him somehow, but... if he had always been healthy and strong, he'd been masking it incredibly well.

All of a sudden, the jaguar-man decided to put an end to the impasse, lunging like an angry bull towards the Englishman – for the first time revealing the speed at which it could attack. Aurelio's grandpa and Ol' Luis instinctively moved out of the way, opposing sides. Campbell, however, waited for the very last moment... merely stepping aside when the monster was mere inches away from smiting him. Consequentially, the beast bulled straight through him, faltering and stumbling on the remains of Garrincha, destroying the table even further as it slipped on the buttons. Aurelio noticed the antique shop owner smiled; he'd earned some time.

What took place next, Aurelio would only have expected from a fantasy movie or story; when it was over, he didn't really know whether to take what he saw for reality or place a complaint regarding the CGI quality. The cane held on Mr. Campbell's hand began to shine – the white light, however brief, nearly blinded Aurelio – as the object mysteriously grew longer and its handle gradually lost its curve until it was completely straight. The artifact, whose brightness had waned dim, continued elongating until it was nearly as tall as the elder man himself, carved in solid wood. On its surface, were some nodules and flaws, yet what really mattered to Aurelio was what Mr. Campbell was going to do with that strange piece.

Meanwhile, the jaguar-man had scrambled up again. Standing on its legs in a defiant posture, it roared to show it was going to engage in a new attack. Mr. Campbell steadily pointed the wooden baton – which Aurelio soon figured to be a sort of staff – at the beast, which blasted towards him, gaining speed, and launching even more buttons and wooden splinters skywards. However, Campbell still had time to whisper:
"Oh, Duwiau, roddwch i golau at anrheithio hwn credur o tywyllwch!"

A light took over the shaft's extremities, but this time it moved forward, like a missile locked on the jaguar-man. The yellowish sphere of light crossed the yard like a pocket size sun, droning two feet above the floor. Once it hit, the monster burst into ashes and sprinkling lights, launching hundreds of burning fragments into the air and on Aurelio and the other men before drifting idly towards the floor.

Aurelio's mouth dropped open, but words never came out. He then tried to walk to Campbell, but his legs didn't move – whether because of magic or fear, he didn't know. Not knowing what to do, he was left watching the subsequent happenings. He saw the Englishman's staff shine once more, shrinking and curling on one of the ends until it was a mere cane once again.

Grandpa Genaro finally ran to his grandson – clearly not sure if he should shield him or embrace him. He ended up picking the second option. As his grandfather crushed his bones, the still astonished Aurelio peered over Genaro's shoulder and noticed that Campbell was nearing the yellowed Ol' Luis... muttering something as he looked into his eyes. Aurelio couldn't make sense of a single word, even less about the situation in itself. In this last case though, the incidental lack of understanding was almost a routine already.

What mattered was, when the Englishman was done, the button football loser – given that the score was 3-2 before the disaster – simply walked away, vanishing through the house's door. He did so calmly, leisurely striding with all of his limbs relaxed as if in a kind of trance. Aurelio remembered a certain movie where government agents used a small gadget to wipe out people's memories. It didn't take a genius to conclude something of a similar sort had just happened. He only hoped that the hitherto kind and gentle Mr. Maxwell Campbell wouldn't do the same to him.

He didn't. As he got closer, the old antique salesman stood in front of the young man and contemplated him with a mixture of worry and pity that managed to make Aurelio extremely uncomfortable. As soon as his grandpa let go of his hug, he also stood in front of him; however, his expression entertained a different feeling: guilt.

"Aurelio..." he began, crestfallen. "We need to talk."

Yeah. They surely did.

But where should they even start? It wasn't every day that a monster like that rolled into the yard and ruined a button championship – even worse, nearly ruining Aurelio's very own life. They entered the house and strolled in silence past the corridor leading to the kitchen. Apparently there were no visitors left. They had vamoosed when met with the incomprehensible threat they had all just faced. Aurelio could only hope nobody would call the cops – such a concern was also evident in the remaining adults' countenances. Having to face even more problems on that hell-spawned afternoon was undesirable.

"Praise be unto the gods that you have a house with such large rooms, Genaro..." muttered Campbell as they headed to the living room.

They strode into the room. Aurelio's tired grandpa slouched to the couch and half-sprawled there. The Englishman stood, expecting Aurelio to find a place besides Genaro. To his clear surprise, Aurelio perched on the floor, sitting between the TV and the couch, turning to the latter, cross-legged and wearing a rather demanding expression on his face. It was insane to act so naturally after what had just happened. Even so he managed to lull down there as if he were about to hear a story – and he knew that, in a certain way, those two were bound to indulge him with quite a long one, in order to explain what had just happened in their yard. Thus, Campbell inserted himself in the vacant spot by Genaro, turning his attention to the boy as well. In silence, the two elder men waited for questions.

"What was that that attacked me outside?" Aurelio demanded.

Genaro seemed uncomfortable, but the antique shop owner posed an answer promptly:

"That was a Kanaima. A malevolent spirit, it holds the capability of possessing people and making them assume the shapes of diverse animals, such as a jaguar. Once possessed, the victim turns into an indomitable savage beast, extremely prone to attacking whomever lies in its way. Kanaimas are natural from the Amazon rainforest and are terribly feared by the natives."

It was demanding for Aurelio to accept that such a creature could exist – just a few minutes ago, he still believed magic and monsters were only figments of imagination and fiction. However, everything he had just seen bent his beliefs hastily in the other direction.

Even so, Campbell's explanation made little sense.

"If that thing is from Amazon, what was it doing thousands of miles down here in Rio de Janeiro?" he questioned.

Instead of answering, the Englishman turned to Aurelio's grandpa and posed another question:

"Genaro, where did Tomas say his cousin came from again?"

The old man fished in his memories for a moment. When he caught the answer, astonishment dawned upon his brow.

"From Amapá."

That made the whole thing a lot more plausible, but not entirely, as Aurelio soon made a point of highlighting.

"But why did it come to Rio in the first place? And why did it seem to want to attack me specifically, instead of any other person on the yard?'

Campbell exchanged a brief glance with Genaro, took a deep breath and, facing the kid sternly, clarified:

"Someone possessed that spirit through magical means so that it would be under their command. Indeed, it isn't in the nature of Kanaimas to act this way, unless under the external influence of another entity. And this particular entity sent them all over Brazil to hunt you down, Aurelio. There is a person who, more than anyone else in the world, desires to see you dead..."

And, taking one extra gulp of air, the Englishman pronounced a name that, however old in his memory, always managed to bring discomfort down his soul, as if it carried all the evil and intrigue of the world within it:

"Morgan Le Fay."

Author's note: This is a preview of the complete book, which can be purchased at Amazon through this link - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07R6B9D2H