was putting on lotion. "Aye, aye, boss; what next?"
I drew a deep silver bowl out of my bag. It gleamed in the moonlight like another piece of sky.
Larry's eyes widened.
"It doesn't have to be silver. There are no mystical symbols on it. You could use a Tupperware bowl, but the life of another living creature is going in here. Use something nice to show some respect, but understand that it doesn't have to be silver, or this shape, or anything. It's just a container. Okay?"
Larry nodded. "Why not have the other goats up here on top? It's going to be a trek to get them up here every time."
I shrugged. "First, they'd panic. Second, it seems cruel for them to watch their friends bite the dust, knowing they're next."
"My zoology prof would say you're humanizing them."
"Let him. I know they feel pain, and fear. That's enough."
Larry looked at me for a long moment. "You don't like doing it either."
"No. You want to help hold or feed the carrot?"
"Carrot?"
I dug a carrot, complete with leafy green top, out of the bag.
"Was that what you got in the grocery store while I waited in the car with the goats?"
"Yeah."
I held the carrot up in the air. The goat strained to the end of its picket line, towards the carrot. I let the goat lip the leafy top. It bleated and strained towards me. I let him get a little more leaf. His stubby little tail started wagging. Happy goat.
I handed Larry the silver bowl. "Put it on the ground under the throat. When the blood starts coming, catch as much as you can."
I had the machete behind my back in my right hand, carrot in my left. I felt like a child's dentist. No, nothing behind my back. Pay no attention to that huge needle. Except this needle was permanent.
The goat yanked most of the leaves off the carrot, and I waited while it snaked them up into its mouth. Larry knelt beside it, bowl on the ground. I offered the meat of the carrot to the goat. It got a taste of it, and I drew the carrot out, out, until the goat strained its neck out as far as it could, trying to get more of the hard orange flesh.
I laid the machete against the hairy throat, not cutting, gentle. The neck vibrated against the blade, straining for the carrot. I drew the blade across the neck.
The machete was sharp, and I had practice. There was no sound, only the shocked, widened eyes, and blood pouring from the neck.
Larry picked up the bowl, holding it under the wound. Blood splashed down his arms onto the blue t-shirt. The goat collapsed to its knees. Blood filled the bowl, dark and glinting, more black than red.
"There's bits of carrot in the blood," Larry said.
"It's alright," I said. "Carrot's inert."
The goat's head fell slowly forward until it touched the ground. The bowl sat under its throat, filling with blood. It had been nearly a perfect kill. Goats could be sort of pesky, but sometimes, like tonight, it all worked. Of course, we weren't done.
I laid the bloody knife against my left arm and sliced it open. The pain was sharp and immediate. I held the wound over the bowl, letting the thick drops mingle with the goat's blood.
"Give me your right arm," I said.
Larry didn't argue. He just held out his bare arm. I'd told him what would happen, but it was still a very trusting gesture. His face turned up to me was without any trace of fear. God.
I sliced his arm. He winced but didn't draw back. "Let it drip into the bowl."
He held his arm over the bowl. All the blood was red-black in the moonlight.
The beginnings of power trickled over my skin. My power, Larry's power, the power of a ritual sacrifice. Larry looked up at me with wide eyes.
I knelt beside him and laid the machete across the mouth of the bowl. I held out my left hand to him. He gave me his right. We clasped hands and pressed the wounds in our forearms together, letting the blood mingle. Larry held one side of the blood-filled bowl and I held the other. Blood trickled down our arms to drip off our elbows into the bowl, onto the bloody naked steel.
We stood still clasped together, still holding the bowl. I withdrew my hand from his slowly, then took the bowl from him. He followed my every movement like