Moyra smiled gently. “We use the terms grandmother and grandfather to honor the elders who keep this village safe for all of us. They’re also a term of endearment. In a greater sense, we are all connected by the invisible flow of life around and through us. Therefore, all elders are like grandparents to all of us.”
Ann nodded. “What a beautiful concept.” And it was. The warmth and sincerity in Moyra’s eyes made Ann smile a little in response.
“Around here,” Moyra said pertly, rising in one lithe, graceful motion, “where the clouds meet the other worlds, whatever you need will manifest. It’s that simple and wonderful.” She extended her hand. “Want to try to walk a bit, luv?”
Gripping Moyra’s long, expressive fingers, Ann slowly stood up. Dizziness assailed her momentarily, but Moyra quickly wrapped her long, thin arm around her. “I’ve got towels and a robe waiting at the spring,” she assured her. “Just look down and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.”
“I’m stuffed, Mike,” Ann protested as he tried to scrape some of his scrambled eggs onto her plate. They sat at a rough-hewn table on handmade chairs cut from mahogany and held together with thin, tough jungle vines.
“One last chance…” he teased.
With a quick laugh, Ann held up her hands. “Finito, Major Houston. I’ve eaten enough for three men.”
Darkly, he spooned the last of the tasty eggs into his mouth. “You must have lost ten pounds. Maybe more.” Ann was excessively thin and that wasn’t good. Still, the bath at the hot springs, getting her hair washed and putting fresh clothes on, under Moyra’s warm care, had perked Ann up considerably. But Houston wasn’t fooled. He knew she was trying to rally, and that took a lot of energy she really didn’t have.
“If I keep eating like this, I’ll gain it back in a real hurry,” Ann retorted good-naturedly. From the table she could look out the open window over the rest of the village. It was a beautiful place, with white, churning clouds hanging just to the north of them like billowing, constantly moving curtains. It was near noon, she supposed. The sun was directly overhead and shining brightly on the village, which sat in a flower-strewn meadow ringed on one side by jungle and on the other by grassy slopes that led up to the craggy, snow-clad Andes towering above.
Mike took the plates and set them aside. “I think you need to rest now, querida. You’re looking pale.” In fact, he could see the fine blue veins beneath her eyes, a telltale sign of impending exhaustion.
“I’m just a little tired,” Ann protested.
Mike got up and pulled her chair back for her. The simple white peasant’s blouse with short sleeves and a lace collar that revealed her collarbones made her look excruciatingly beautiful. The red-and-purple cotton skirt hung to her ankles, and Moyra had located a pair of open-toed sandals to protect her feet.
“Come on, I want to take you to one of the hammocks strung just outside our hut. You can let the soft breeze rock you to sleep.”
The invitation sounded wonderful. Ann felt his hand settle around her elbow and steady her as she rose slowly to her feet.
“I wish I didn’t feel like such a weakling,” she complained as he placed his arm around her waist and drew her next to him.
“There’s a time to be weak and a time to be strong, wild orchid.” He studied her from beneath his dark brows as they left the hut. “I’ll be strong for you now. It’s your turn to lean on me, okay?”
She gave him a slight smile. “You know I’m not used to asking for help.”
“I know.” He sighed, squeezing her gently as they slowly moved around the hut. “Especially asking a man.” He saw her frown. “I understand more than you realize.”
Ann felt sadness and hurt move through her heart. Mike deserved her trust and love—she shouldn’t be holding him up as a scapegoat for what another man had done to her many years before. “We need time to talk, Mike.”
“And we’ll get that—here,” he assured her gently. “But not now.”
“Okay…” The warm spring breeze wafted several strands of hair against her cheek. Ann noted more men in the village now, gathered around the tripods, eating and talking. Every once in a while she heard laughter. It was good, healthy laughter and she found herself smiling. There were two Pau d’arco trees no more than six feet apart near their hut. Strung between them was a woven hammock.
“Climb in,” Mike urged, and he helped her sit down and then stretch out along the length of it. He took a white cotton blanket that Moyra had thoughtfully left behind, and shaking it open, he laid it across Ann. Her lashes were already closing.
“Thanks, Mike,” she murmured. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought….”
He gently rocked the hammock, and within moments, Ann had spiraled into sleep. Moyra had made her a cup of herbal tea earlier. It had contained a natural sleeping aid. Right now, Ann needed rest in order to heal.
Mike wanted to remain there, standing over her and watching her sleep, but he felt Grandfather Adaire telepathically call to him. Reluctantly, Mike released his hold on the end of the hammock, giving it one more gentle tug. The breeze and birds would keep Ann company for a little while until he could return.
Moving around the hut, Mike wasn’t surprised to see the elder waiting patiently for him. In the years Mike had known him, the old man hadn’t aged one bit. Adaire’s face was long, and lined like a road map, his shining gray eyes droopy looking, his white hair still peppered with strands of red to remind everyone of his Scottish heritage. His reddish white beard gave him the look of a sage, well deserved.
“She sleeps well,” Adaire noted, shifting his wooden staff, topped with bright red, yellow and blue parrot feathers, into his left hand.
Mike sighed with relief. “Yes.” He searched the elder’s eyes. “Thank Grandmother Alaria for giving us permission to come here. I know you didn’t have to allow us entrance. I didn’t know what else to do. Everything blew up in our faces. Ann almost died…. I didn’t ever expect to have to put all of you in danger like this.”
“It has been five years since your last visit, my son. Alaria said you were long overdue for a visit, and you are always welcome, no matter the reason for your appearance. And you did not put us in danger. We can only place ourselves in danger.” He laid his bony hand on Houston’s shoulder. “Ann is not unlike us,” he murmured as he led him back into the hut. “Her heart is pure. What else can one ask for?” They sat down at the table. Adaire moved very slowly but with ageless grace.
Mike folded his hands and waited as Adaire eased carefully into a creaking chair. To anyone else, he would appear to be a native of Peru, dressed as he was in a pair of threadbare pants made of dark brown cotton and a long-sleeved peasant’s shirt too large for his tall, regal frame. Of course, Adaire’s skin was white, as he was from Scotland. He had come from a long line of druid priests, Mike knew. Adaire’s ancestors had taken care of the sacred oak grove on the Island of Mona, which had been overrun and destroyed by Caesar’s army so long ago. Mike really didn’t know how old the elder was. Not that it mattered, because Mike honored his wisdom and gentle form of leadership. Alaria, his wife, shared the leadership duties of the village with him. She was the primary emissary in physical form from the Great Goddess and was technically the leader of the village. All queries were taken to the main lodge, but in the end, it was Alaria who made the final decision. Both she and her husband were powerful shamans who led with their hearts.
Adaire’s bushy white brows knitted as he placed his hands on his thighs. “We must talk.”
Mike grimaced. “I know what you’re going to tell me.”
“You came very close to giving your life away for hers.”
Houston nodded and held the elder’s gray, probing gaze. “I did it willingly.”
“No doubt.”
Becoming grim, Mike flexed his hand and remained very still. “I couldn’t lose her, Grandfather.”
“Because?”
“I…” He hesitated, his mout
h growing dry. “I care…for her.”
“You have loved twice before.”
Mike held the elder’s measuring stare. The word love grated on him. Adaire could be very intimidating when he wanted to be, and Mike could feel the man’s mind probing his own. Houston offered no resistance to the gentle intrusion. He had nothing to hide from Adaire or Alaria. He knew Adaire was here to get the facts from him and share them with Alaria.
“You have loved two other women and they have been torn from you,” Adaire said. “What makes you think Ann’s fate will be any different?”
Mike’s heart thudded with sudden fear. Pursing his lips, he rasped, “I don’t think it would be different—that’s why I’m trying to keep my distance from her…not letting her know my real feelings….” Hell, he’d barely admitted them to himself, much less Adaire. Mike knew he could never speak of them to Ann.
Adaire lifted his grizzled head and stroked his beard, the silence thickening. “Does she know?”
“About me? Us? No.”
“She must know so she can make her own choice in all of this. You cannot lead her on.”
A ragged sigh escaped from Mike’s lips. “I know that, Grandfather.” And he felt fear eating at him. What would Ann do once she knew the truth about him—his “kind”? Would she run in terror from him? Think that she’d gone insane in an insane world? Or would her care for him override the truth about him? And what if she could accept him? What did he think he was going to do—put her at risk of Escovar? No.
Scowling, Mike looked past Adaire and out the window toward the flower-strewn meadow. “I try not to care what she will think when she finally asks those questions, Grandfather. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care.”
“She’s uncertain. And scared. You have little time among us before you must return to your duties in the other world.”
Mike studied the old man. “I intend to take her out of here when she’s recuperated and get her on the next plane for the States. And then I’m going after Escovar again. At least,” he muttered, opening his hands, “that’s my plan right now. How long can Grandmother Alaria and the elders hold the power for us to remain here?”
“Two weeks.”
Two weeks. Mike knew that an outside energy such as Ann’s could cause turmoil to the energy grid that made this village completely safe from any enemy encounters. It took the minds and hearts of many villagers meditating all day long to hold the protective shield in place and keep everyone who came here for physical training safe. Could he get Ann to accept him, his way of living, in that time? It was too short a period. Mike rubbed his jaw, and his voice hardened. “She’s been through hell already, Adaire.”
“I can see that. You know of her past?”
Scowling, Houston muttered, “I’ve got an inkling. I haven’t actively searched her mind. I wanted to let Ann trust me enough over time to tell me herself…to share it with me when she was comfortable.”
With a sigh, Adaire opened his long, bony fingers. The calluses on both his palms were thick and yellow. “She is braver than you believe, my son. Don’t treat her like a weakling, because she is not one. When you love, you protect. That is your nature. You cannot help it.”
Smarting beneath the accusation that he loved Ann, Mike pushed his chair away and stood. “Yeah, well, it sure as hell didn’t stop Escovar from killing the other two women I loved, did it?” He lowered his voice and tried to control his runaway feelings. Adaire sat there, serene and seemingly unaffected by his stormy response.
“The path of jaguar medicine is not an easy one, my son.”
“No damn kidding.” Mike raked his fingers through his hair and moved restlessly around the room. “Don’t you think I’m afraid it will happen all over again? Hell, it almost did. I heard Ann cry out for me and I felt her bleeding to death…. I got there almost too late to save her.” He turned, studying Adaire. “Yes, I’m protective. And I’d damn well go to the threshold of death again for her. I’m not sorry about my choices, Adaire. I can tell from the feelings I’m sensing around you that you aren’t happy with me or what I did to save her life.”
“Please,” the elder murmured gently, “be at peace with yourself, Michael. Come, sit down. Sit….”
The lulling baritone of Adaire’s voice was like balm blanketing Mike’s raging, unchecked emotions. He came and sat down, then he rubbed his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, Grandfather. I’m out of sorts.”
Just then Alaria entered the hut. Mike smiled wearily up at her. She, too, was ageless in his eyes, the energy surrounding her like the pulsing of sunlight. Her unconditional love embraced him, and as he met her sparkling, dark green eyes, he felt her smile even though her full lips did not move. She stood nearly six feet tall, and her thin form reminded him of the most graceful of ballerinas. Her face was full and oval, her cheeks high and her nose thin, shouting of her aristocratic roots. Once, Adaire had told him, she had been high priestess of the sacred oak grove in England, though she was originally from Wales. How long ago she had come to Peru, Mike had no idea, but she, too, was descended from a long line of druids, and the stamp of leadership on her bearing was obvious.
“You are weakened by the considerable gift you gave to her, because of the bravery of your heart,” Alaria said. “You will need these two weeks to recuperate yourself. Does Ann realize you need to heal, also?”
“No, Grandmother.” Mike rose and pulled out the other chair for her. “And I don’t want her to know. She’s been through enough.” He sat back down and stared at the rough, wooden tabletop. “Ann worries at the drop of a hat. If she even thinks I look ill, she gets upset.”
“Must be love, eh?” Alaria teased gently as she laid her long thin hands upon the table.
He slowly raised his chin and looked into Alaria’s large eyes, which were filled with warmth. As leader of the village, she wore around her neck a golden torque with a huge rectangular emerald of absolute clarity. Mike had been told by another student a long time ago that the torque was passed down to each successive leader of the Village of the Clouds. No one could remember how long Alaria had been leader. It was whispered that she was nearly a thousand years old and that because her heart was so pure, she aged very slowly. Right now, Mike thought she looked like she was near eighty, her gray-and-red hair plaited into two thick braids. “I…don’t know when it happened. I swear, I don’t,” Mike rasped. Finally, beneath her gentle gaze, he admitted in a choked voice, “I wasn’t expecting to fall in love ever again. Not with my track record.” Grimacing, he muttered, “Ann walked into my life like a lightning bolt. I felt like someone jerked the rug out from under my feet.”
“I can see that,” Alaria said, smiling kindly. “Ann is your true mate, you know. You have shared your blood with her. She is a part of you—of us—because of that, whether she wants to be or not. I hope she will discover that being a part of the Jaguar Clan is not always harsh and challenging. We are glad to hold this energy for you—and her.”
Mike reached over and gripped the elder’s hand in silent thanks for her graciousness. He felt the parchmentlike skin, the bones of her work-worn fingers and the incredible strength they still possessed. More than anything, Mike felt life pulsing like a thousand suns through her fingers into him.
“Let us help you for a little while, eh?” Alaria suggested. “You need some care, too. You fight what lies in your heart. You are afraid to love again, with good reason. You are so torn now, my son.”
Wasn’t that the truth? In the past, Mike had had no one to turn to. His family in the Village of the Clouds was never far away, but to run to them and beg for help in every crisis wasn’t his way. No, Mike respected what this village was and why it existed. He felt the warm energy begin to flow up into his arm. Within moments, he was very drowsy.
“Lay your arm on the table as a pillow,” Alaria suggested, “and close your eyes and allow me to send you the healing energy you need.”
Houston nodded and, without another word, did
as the elder instructed. As he closed his eyes, head resting on his arm, his hand beneath Alaria’s, a sense of utter peace flowed through him and erased all the anguish, pain and anger he’d felt earlier. Still, his last thought was: How am I going to tell Ann about me? What will she do when she sees I’m not what she thinks I am? How will she react to being a member of the Jaguar Clan?
Chapter 11
“This place,” Ann began, “reminds me of the United Nations, Mike. It’s not a simple agricultural village of Quechua Indians as I first thought.” She sat with her back against a stout tree at the edge of a flower-strewn meadow, the shade of the tree shielding her from the sunlight. Above, churning white cumulus clouds drifted through the sky like a long roll of white cotton against the high slopes where the meadow met the magnificent snow-covered Andes. She picked at the ripe papaya that he’d peeled and carefully sliced to share with her.
“No one eats meat around here, I’ve discovered. Just fruits, vegetables and grains. And there are no babies here. Just adults.” She met Houston’s gaze as he sat less than a foot away from her, legs crossed, his arms resting on his thighs. “In the past five days, I’ve discovered a lot of what I’d call inconsistencies.” She pointed to the fruit in his hand. “This is spring, not summer. This fruit shouldn’t be available here yet. What did they do, ship it from somewhere? There are no automobiles, no trucks that I’ve seen to bring it here.”
Ann looked around the meadow. “Yet it’s a beautiful place. I love it here and feel so at peace.” Her gaze traveled back to Mike. “And I’ve never seen you as relaxed as you are here.” Or as playful, she thought, realizing once more how precious his little-boy side, his frequent, teasing grins or the laughter reflected in his dark blue eyes, were to her. Frowning, she bit off a piece of the sweet, dark orange fruit.
“And now that I’m well and my brain’s functioning again, I’ve got a lot of questions. Like, how did you hear me call you? I didn’t pick up a phone and yell for help. And the nuns didn’t know what was going on.” She held his shadowed gaze. “So how did you know? I mean, I know what you told me about your telepathic skills, but still, it seems so unusual. And looking back and remembering more and more of what took place, Mike, I know without a doubt that I should be dead.” Her voice lowered. “And I’m not. Something extraordinary—maybe an inexplicable miracle—happened, involving you…and…a large cat of some kind. This time, I don’t want you to be evasive. We need to sit and talk about this. Every time I try to broach this topic with you, you start teasing me and we get to laughing, or you…well, you hold me, kiss me, and I lose track of where I wanted to go with the conversation….”
Morgan’s Mercenaries: Heart of the Jaguar Page 20
