Tasting Forever

The air inside the villa hung heavy with salt and overripe fruit. Lyric stood on the balcony with one hand resting against the curve of her belly, the other gripping the rail until her knuckles whitened. The emerald canopy below shifted in slow waves, stirred by a breeze that never quite reached the shaded terrace. Six years had passed since they arrived, long enough for the locals to stop asking questions and accept them as the quiet Americans who paid in cash and stayed to themselves.

Below the balcony, Karter knelt on the stone tiles. A white cloth lay spread beside him, and on it he arranged a set of surgical knives with the same care he once reserved for crime-scene photographs. Each blade caught the late light as he wiped it down, turning the steel until no fingerprint remained. The motion was steady, almost soothing. He did not look up when she spoke.

“The scent is worse today,” she said, her voice soft and melodic. “I can almost taste it on the air.”

Karter finished polishing the final blade before he answered. “Tiago said the market vendors were complaining about the heat. He thinks it will pass once the rains come.”

Lyric watched a small figure move across the lower terrace. Casimir followed a green lizard with deliberate steps, never rushing, never losing focus. The boy’s dark hair fell across his eyes, yet he did not blink. He simply tracked the creature until it disappeared beneath a clay pot, then straightened and looked toward the jungle as though calculating its next path. His stillness reminded her of herself at that age, before she learned to hide the hunger behind polite smiles.

Karter rose, folded the cloth, and tucked the knives into their leather roll. He climbed the short flight of stairs to the balcony, boots quiet on the stone. When he reached her, he set the roll on the small table beside them and placed his hands on either side of her waist, careful not to press too hard against the swell of the child inside. “The pantry is getting low,” he said. “We have maybe two weeks left before we need to restock.”

She turned her face toward him, copper hair catching the light like a warning flame. “Then we choose carefully. The child inside me will not accept anything less than the best.”

Footsteps sounded on the gravel path below. Tiago Silva appeared at the edge of the terrace, his loud shirt already damp with sweat. He removed his straw hat and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Good afternoon, my friends. I brought the mangoes you asked for. The market was busy today. Too many questions for my liking.”

Karter descended again to meet him. “What kind of questions?”

Tiago glanced up at Lyric on the balcony, then lowered his voice. “The police were there. They asked about a German hiker who disappeared near the trail last month. Someone remembered seeing him near the road that leads to this villa. They wanted to know if any of my tenants had seen anything unusual.”

Karter kept his expression neutral. “And what did you tell them?”

“That my guests keep to themselves and pay on time. That is all they need to know.” Tiago smiled, but the expression did not reach his eyes. He handed over the bag of mangoes and accepted the folded bills Karter passed him without counting. “As long as the gold flows, the gates stay shut. But even the best lock cannot keep out a determined wind, eh?”

After Tiago left, Karter returned to the balcony. He set the mangoes on the table and looked out over the canopy. “The perimeter is still secure. No one has come up the access road in the last forty-eight hours. But the police are getting closer. We should consider moving the next hunt farther inland.”

Lyric laughed, a low, musical sound that carried no warmth. “You worry too much. A growing child requires the finest proteins. So does the one still inside me. We cannot afford to travel three hours each way when what we need is already here.”

She stepped closer to the rail. Below, Casimir had found another lizard. This one was larger, its tail whipping against the tile as it tried to escape. The boy moved with the same calm precision Karter used on the knives. He waited until the lizard paused, then placed one small foot directly in its path. When the creature darted left, Casimir was already there. He caught it behind the neck and lifted it without hesitation. For a moment he simply studied it, head tilted, eyes unblinking. Then he carried it to the edge of the terrace and released it into the undergrowth.

Karter watched the exchange in silence. “He learns quickly.”

“He watches everything,” Lyric replied. “That is enough for now.”

They stood together for a while without speaking. The air pressed against their skin, thick and sweet. Lyric could feel the child shifting inside her, a slow, insistent pressure that matched the dull ache building behind her ribs. The hunger had changed with this pregnancy. It no longer felt like the sharp, creative need that once drove her to craft elaborate meals. Now it was a constant weight, a demand that refused to be ignored or negotiated with.

Karter reached for her hand and turned it palm up. His thumb traced the faint scar across her own palm, a mirror of the one he carried. “The market will be empty by sunset. If we go tonight, we can choose someone local. Someone who will not be missed right away.”

She considered this. The idea of hunting among strangers still felt risky, yet the ache inside her was growing louder. She could already imagine the weight of fresh meat, the careful portioning that would see them through the final weeks. “We will go together,” she said at last. “You can drive. I will choose.”

Below them, Casimir had returned to the center of the terrace. He sat cross-legged on the warm stone, watching the place where the lizard had disappeared. His small hands rested on his knees, perfectly still. Every few minutes he turned his head slightly, tracking the movement of a bird or the rustle of leaves. The intensity of his attention never wavered.

Karter’s gaze moved from the boy to Lyric. “He will need to stay with Beatriz while we are gone. She will be here in an hour for your checkup.”

Lyric nodded. The nurse was reliable, if overly gentle. She asked too many questions about the medicine Lyric took, but she accepted the answers without pushing. That was all that mattered now. “Tell her the baby is strong. She likes hearing that.”

They remained on the balcony until the light began to fade. The jungle canopy turned from emerald to deep blue, and the first stars appeared above the distant line of the ocean. Karter gathered the knife roll and the bag of mangoes, carrying both inside. Lyric stayed a moment longer, one hand still resting on the rail, the other cradling the curve of her belly. The hunger moved through her like a slow tide, patient and certain.

Inside the villa, the rooms smelled of citrus and old wood. Karter placed the mangoes on the kitchen counter and opened the hidden panel beneath the sink. The space held several sealed containers, each marked with dates and careful measurements. The supply was lower than he had admitted. He closed the panel again and turned to find Lyric watching him from the doorway.

“We cannot wait much longer,” she said quietly. “The child will not forgive delay.”

Karter nodded. He moved to the table where his satchel waited and checked the contents one more time: the false identification papers, the cash folded into neat stacks, the small medical kit Dr. Thorne had insisted they keep on hand. Everything was in order. He slung the satchel over his shoulder and looked at Lyric. “We leave after the nurse arrives. Casimir will be asleep by then.”

She crossed the room and placed her hand against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm. “You have always understood what I need. That has never changed.”

Outside, the sound of a car engine approached along the gravel road. Beatriz Varga would be arriving soon, her gentle voice and careful hands ready to check the progress of a pregnancy that no ordinary doctor would ever see. Lyric stepped back, already composing the polite smile she would wear for the nurse. The ache inside her remained, but it no longer felt unmanageable. A plan had formed. The hunt would happen tonight, and the pantry would be full again before the next sunrise.

Karter checked the perimeter cameras one final time on his phone. All feeds were clear. He slipped the device into his pocket and met Lyric’s gaze across the room. For a brief moment, the villa felt smaller than it had that morning, the walls pressing closer as though aware of what they were about to do. Then the feeling passed. The night waited beyond the windows, warm and full of possibility. Somewhere in the city, a local resident would soon take a wrong turn or accept an offer of help from strangers. That person would never know how carefully they had been chosen, or how precisely their absence would be measured in the weeks to come.

The sound of tires on gravel grew louder. Beatriz was almost at the gate. Lyric moved toward the front door, her silk dress shifting around her legs like water. Karter followed, already calculating the best route into the city and the quietest streets where a single person might disappear without drawing notice. The plan was simple. The execution would require the same steady hands that had cleaned the knives earlier. They had done this before, in other cities, under other names. The hunger had only grown stronger with time, and with the child inside her, it demanded satisfaction sooner rather than later.

Outside, the gate creaked open. Beatriz called a soft greeting as she approached the villa, her voice carrying the same gentle concern she always brought with her. Lyric answered with the practiced warmth she reserved for those who served a purpose. Behind her, Karter stood ready, the satchel already in hand, the night stretching ahead of them like an open road. The pantry would be restocked. The child would be fed. And the careful life they had built in this humid corner of the world would continue, at least for a little while longer.