Following the usual hugs, kisses and musical exclamations of joy, she said, "Morales will collect your baggage, Loretta. Come, let's drive to our new home."

"Oh my God, Linda, what a beautiful country," I was awed by the vista as Morales maneuvered the station wagon into the mountains over a road fit only for burros, it seemed. "The air is much cooler now, and I can see for miles. Look at that river down there."

"The Rio Paraná. It lies three thousand feet below El Raptor, one more mile or two. Hold on to your stomach, the next bend is awesome. Ooooo Loretta, Loretta, it's so good to have you here." She clasped my wrist.

"So, where's that magnificent husband of yours, Linda? Somehow I thought the pair of you might swoop down from heaven in your magical helicopter."

"Sorry to disappoint, but he's out with the bird, off as usual in the mountains doing his El Diablo thing. Oil, diamonds, and you know. All the stuff that makes life worthwhile. No?" She scowled.

"What. No polo and country club?" I was having a laugh at her expense.

But after all it was Linda, not I, whom the great man chose in Cambridge two years before. Ricardo had become my client when he arranged the purchase of some Bolivian land claims. The deal was signed and sealed, so I left the final delivery to my clerk, Cheri, and took Ricardo out on the town. I was looking forward to a wild night of ravishment in those sinuous strong arms. It had been two months since I served Ronnie Towns a finale´ termination on our engagement, and this little lady lusted for a few vigorous paradisiacal thrusts on the wilder side. The pump needed priming in the worst possible way.

Not to be. We ran into Linda, and that's all she wrote. They got on like caviar and crackers, he swooping her on the dance floor like some gallant longbilled rapacious bird. The tango! Mating. Damn. Damn and double damn damn. I saw the sparkle in her eyes, the complete surrender in his. The smiles, touches, the damp mucilage of their bodies moving in the heat of the music. Grinding.

I took a cab home that night and pounded my pillow until it bled, hantingly recalling how Linda had made her first larcenous performance during our debutante ball back in Boston. "Forgetta Loretta," she told my golden-maned beau. "Come sinna like Simba with Linda." Cute? And poof, he was gone into the maw of Linda's carnivorous love nest. Ooooo… that hurt.

And then just a week following our bustup, I saw Ronnie opening a limo door in front of the Plaza Royale. Linda slithered out and…... Well, I don't like to think about it. How we remained friends during these slippery years, remains one big Agatha Christie mystery of the decade. Linda seems lacking a normal awareness gene, no feeling or sense of her damage to others. It's all in the game, she must think. If she thinks at all. A game she somehow always wins; a born predator if there ever was one. She even topped me in law school and beat me to the bar.

Though the two of them disappeared south into their Mountains' El Raptor fortress, Ricardo returned to Cambridge time and again, just as if nothing happened that night. In fact I still manage most of his legals. All of his afffairs in fact.

The Sorrento marble floor of the wide terrace felt rich and shiny, wet with dew. As Linda promised the vista was breathless, the Rio Paraná winding like a teal anaconda through the mists below, never-ending mountains with their craggy tops soaring through heavenly clouds. Despite the altitude, we could hear the rattle of monkeys and parrots around the house.

Then in an instant I felt a shadow over me. "Oh. What in the world?" I could not help but be surprised as a giant bird, quite the largest I ever imagined in my wildest dreams, thundered in, landing not twenty feet away on the ledge rail. Perhaps I exaggerate, but the wings must have spanned fifteen feet. Like some fairytale monarch, it wore a spiked golden crown, a fearsome crest. The eyes were scarlet embers burning straight from hell.

Linda laughed. "Oh my. I'm so sorry, Loretta. I might have warned you about Celaeno, our Harpy eagle. Ricardo's superintendent found her with a broken wing. They nursed her and she now hangs around. Oh, she'll go off for days and days, hunting monkeys and birds, and fish and stuff. But always returns. Ricardo feeds her meat from time to time, but I'm totally frightened by her. That seems to make Ricardo laugh. He's so perverse, don't you think? Teases me that I now a have a rival for his love," she seemed pensive about the eagle. "Magnificent though, isn't she? A worthy opponent is Celaeno."

"I have never in my life seen anything like that, Linda. God. She's so scary," I was totally shaken. "Isn't Celaeno, the dark gross half-woman half-bird Virgil described in the Aeneid ?"

"A pure evil spirit: head of a beautiful woman; body of a soaring bird. That's Celaeno, Loretta. My competition, ta-da!" she laughed while I felt a chill up my spine.

After dinner we sat watching evening shadows grow across the blue Highlands, a quart of Southern Comfort between us, reliving college days. "I ordered a case of this just for your visit," Linda told me.

Somehow another followed, smoothly poured over ice while we reminisced: Baylor, Harvard and our lives. Frankly I was becoming quite intoxicated, never noticing my companion's mood change until she stood up and walked to the ledge. "You bitch, Loretta! You've been seeing Ricky, haven't you?"

"He's been up to see us. Business…." God, she knows I'm lying. My God. Where is he? Where is anybody? El Raptor was beginning to feel more and more like a penitentiary, and I one fool of a prisoner. My mistake in accepting Linda's invitation was becoming indelibly clear through a fog of alcohol. "Where in the world is Ricardo?" I blurted out loud.

"You want to see him. You want to see him bad? You want to kiss him, and have him hold you, Loretta? Like all those trysts in Cambridge?" She was losing it completely, "He'll take you close between silk sheets and repeat to you all those hushed nothings he once whispered in my ear. The flowers, the hand kissing, the Latin smile and the way he crooks his nose when you say the words he loves to hear? The music of your love."

She smiled menacingly, "You wanna know where is Ricardo, Loretta? Well take a gander down there. Come closer. There's your precious Ricky. Below the Bougainvillea."

I looked beyond the rail. "Where?"

That's when she came at me like a cat -- a savage jaguar. And at that instant I knew I was going over into the rocks below, descending, plunging, and falling forever. Like Ricardo? It's silly, but I only had two thoughts. The first was regret -- I should not have made this trip. And secondly, I hoped my face would not be too badly damaged. I heard mid-bursting deafening thunder closing in, and without knowing why, spiraled to the floor. Through tears I saw the outline of Linda's body, heard the screaming before I realized that around her shoulders a tremendous black and tan pair of wings beat unmercifully. Blood flew everywhere while the big bird's talons tore into her face, her eyes. The shrieks were horrendous and endless. " Celaeno!" I screamed, and passed out.

* * *

These days I am mistress of El Raptor. It's unfortunate that Ricardo must be so often absent on business, although my former law clerk, Cheri, has been looking after him well, I'm told.

I'm reading Virgil once more. And then there's a little gardening from time to time. Linda has her own room on the third floor above our suite, but we seldom hear from her, and the nurses say she is happy. For the life of me I can't see how they can tell, for she no longer makes a sound. Perhaps her vocal chords were damaged during the incident. I don't really know. I do realize, however, that she will never see again, and perhaps that is best, for if she ever caught her face in a mirror she'd become absolutely suicidal. Ricardo and I would would find that most unpleasant, of course.

Deep within I feel Ricardo and I have grown somewhat distant lately, so I've planned a little balcony rendezvous for us upon his return. A romantic interlude. Candles and red wine and….

Celaeno perches in her usual spot, waiting for Ricky. Though she saved my life, recently she's been displaying varying degrees of hostility. Just last week when Ricardo and I embraced, I glanced over his shoulder and saw those fiery eyes glaring into my very soul. Or so it seemed. I felt an icy wind on my neck.

Ricky teased me about it. Soon, one of us absolutely has to go.

Cheri is visiting next month. Preparations for that event must be perfect.

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