Dark Storm

by Christine Feehan

  Jubal moved out into the open to face them, his clothes torn from the vicious, concentrated attack, showing evidence he’d tried to get back to Annabel and was stopped just as Riley had been. The three guides hesitated, but continued slowly forward, craning their necks, hands gripping weapons.

  Dr. Henry Patton picked himself up gingerly from the ground and hurried over to help one of his students, Marty Shepherd, up. The man appeared to be in tears, almost hysterical, slapping at Patton and fighting when Todd Dillon rushed over to aid him as well. Marty was pulled to his feet, but instantly sank back to the ground with the other two men bending solicitously over him.

  Riley rocked herself back and forth, trying to take in that her mother had been murdered just feet from her. She looked down at the rich dirt, thick from hundreds—thousands—of years of vegetation, of death and rebirth. Above her head, the sky darkened subtly. She glanced up as she dropped her hands and buried them deep in the layers of black dirt. Clouds swirled ominously overhead, forming towers rising high. The wind stirred her hair, even there, under the stillness of the canopy, while the branches of the trees emerging from the canopy whipped back and forth in a frenzy of activity.

  She took a breath and let it out. A long keening moan escaped from her throat. At the sound, the remaining monkeys took to the trees, the mourning notes following them through the rain forest. Instead of moving up the mountain, the troop of woolly monkeys moved away from their natural home high up in the cloud forest.

  Don Weston and Mack Shelton stumbled back into sight. Both had run when the monkeys had descended. Neither appeared to have a scratch. They’d made it far enough away from the battle to evade the onslaught of the primates. They both appeared shaken.

  “What the hell happened here?” Don demanded, surveying his scratched and bloody companions as well as the furry bodies on the ground. “I thought monkeys were the least of our worries.”

  Miguel turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Monkeys do not attack men.”

  “I got news for you, genius,” Don responded with a shuddering snort. “They just did. Do they have rabies?” He actually stepped back away from the others and swept his arm across Mack’s body to prevent him from getting any closer to the others.

  Jubal sighed. “They don’t have rabies, Don, but we have to disinfect every single scratch before anyone gets an infection. Marty, I need you and Todd to get busy doing that. Start with yourselves. The medical kits are in the packs. Once you make certain both of you have covered every scratch, use the antibiotics and then split up and help the others.”

  Riley heard him from a distance. She even knew what he was doing, taking charge, bolstering the two shaken students, giving them something active to do in order to help them recover. She couldn’t move a muscle. There was no recovering. She felt numb, beyond comprehension. Her mind struggled to understand, and on some level she knew she was in shock, but she couldn’t pull herself together.

  She dug her fingers into the soil, the only thing real she could hold on to. Dragging two fistfuls out of the earth, she closed her fingers tight around the dirt and just let herself cry. Tears ran down her face, obscuring her vision, falling into the soil, but she could hear the others coming out of their shock, moving around, doing as Jubal instructed.

  Jorge, Fernando and Hector, three of the four remaining porters, all cousins, approached Jubal hesitantly from the left side, careful to keep an even pace with the guides who were confronting Jubal straight on.

  Ben Charger moved in behind them, deliberately making noise so they were very aware of his presence. Across from the porters, closing in on Jubal, was the fourth porter, Raul. Gary followed him at an easy pace, but, like Ben, making it known he was right behind the porter. He carried his weapon openly.

  Miguel stopped in front of Jubal. “Who is hurt?”

  “Not hurt, dead,” Jubal corrected. “Your porter murdered Annabel. What’s left of her is in those bushes over there.” He nodded toward the dense foliage but didn’t take his eyes from Miguel or step back.

  Miguel’s gaze followed the direction of Jubal’s nod. He swallowed hard and took a step toward the darkened brush. “What about Capa? Where is he?”

  “He’s dead, too,” Jubal answered, his voice grim, a warning inflection in his voice. “We were too late to stop him.”

  Silence once again descended, the news clearly shocking everyone. The men looked at one another. Miguel nodded and led the way to the bloody brush. His brothers followed him silently. The porters skirted around Jubal, who turned to face them all. Ben and Gary flanked them from either side, clearly not trusting what their reaction to the death of their cousin would be.

  Don and Mack followed a little behind them, craning their necks, trying to see. Riley held her breath as the men approached the dense foliage. She didn’t want any of them seeing her mother that way. She wanted to scream at them to get away from the body, especially the two engineers. She knew the moment they all spotted the body.

  The porters stepped back, backs and shoulders stiffening. They looked from Capa’s body to what was left of Annabel. There could be no doubt what had transpired.

  Don leaned over and was sick again and again. Mack gagged and turned away, pressing his hand to his mouth. Riley felt the exact moment they both turned their horrified gazes on her. She refused to look at them. If she held herself very still, her mind wouldn’t fly apart and her shattered heart would remain inside her body. The screams in her head would stay there, locked away forever.

  Don stood up slowly, glanced once more into the brush and hastily turned his head away. He made his way slowly over to Riley. He stood there for a moment in silence before clearing his throat.

  “I’m sorry about your mother, Riley.”

  She couldn’t look at him. She nodded her head, pressing her hands deeper into the dirt. She was so numb that the only thing she could feel on her skin was the sensation of the earth.

  Mack shuffled over, just as awkward, but well meaning. “I’m so sorry, Riley. There are no words. This is terrible.”

  Again she nodded, unable to answer them. Life was pulling her back from the brink of disaster. She couldn’t completely lose control. She had to find a way for her brain to function, to think of what to do next.

  The four porters picked up the body of their cousin and carried it off into deeper brush.

  “What are they doing?” Jubal asked Miguel.

  “They will bury him properly,” Miguel said. “In our way. We will take care of . . .”

  As the three guides stepped closer to Annabel, Riley’s entire body rebelled. Even the earth beneath her seemed to violently protest, shuddering in a wave of protest. The ground shivered, rose up in two-inch waves and sent vibrations through her body. She “felt” the instant protest and with it came a need to act, to move quickly, to do something—she just wasn’t quite certain what.

  “Don’t let them touch her,” Riley pleaded. “Jubal, they can’t touch her.”

  Miguel turned to her, his eyes filled with sorrow. “We didn’t wish for this to happen, Riley. We would never want your mother dead. Capa was not himself. He was a gentle man with a wife and son. He would never harm someone if he wasn’t out of his mind. We need to give your mother a proper burial in the way of your people.”

  She knew the guide was sincere. She heard it in his voice and saw it on his face, but a deeper force drove her. Her mother’s body could not be touched. Riley forced herself to her feet, shaking her head. Her body felt weak, her legs rubbery, but she had to get up. Beneath her feet, the earth pushed at her, driving her out of her shock.

  “Don’t let anyone touch her,” she repeated, looking past Miguel to Jubal. She forced herself to meet the guide’s eyes. “We have our own ways, Miguel, and I must attend to her.”

  She found it a little te
rrifying to approach that horrible site of blood and death in front of all of them, but it had to be done, even if she had a complete breakdown. She had no idea what she needed to do, but the drive was powerful in her now, pushing her to move.

  Weston and Shelton stepped back silently to allow her to walk slowly toward her mother’s body. Riley was aware of the hush descending once more on the group. The two students, busy disinfecting the wounds on themselves and their professor, halted to watch her approach the brush, marred with bloodstains.

  “Tell us what you need, Riley,” Gary said, coming up beside her. “We’ll help you.”

  She wasn’t altogether certain what she needed, but she nodded slightly, waiting a moment before she looked at her mother. She approached cautiously, steeling herself for the sight of Annabel’s mangled body. It wasn’t her mother, she reminded herself, only the shell left behind. Her mother was long gone and once again with the man she loved so much for so many years.

  The wind touched her face as she neared the dense underbrush, fingers of comfort tugging the tears from her eyes. She held her head high, chin up, took a deep breath and then allowed her gaze to move very slowly, one inch at a time, into the darkened brush. Her stomach lurched, and she caught her breath, a lump in her throat threatening to choke her. The ground moved again, gently urging her forward.

  Deep beneath the thick vegetation, Riley felt the thrum of the earth’s heartbeat. Her pulse jumped—matched that steady, comforting rhythm. She felt her veins tingle, a network running through her body, connected to the very planet she lived on. The flora and fauna around her breathed life into the air, and she took it into her lungs. Inside, she felt something stir, awaken, become aware. With each tentative step she took toward that place of murder and death, she became more certain of what she needed to do.

  Her veins throbbed and burned, an electrical current flashing through her body until she felt her blood ran with the very sap in the leaves of the trees, connecting her to all of nature. Like a sleeping dragon awakening for the first time, the energy arced and spread until it consumed every cell in its wake. Her mind filled with images from a life not lived or previously known, but so familiar she recognized everything as if the knowledge had always been there, imprinted in her brain just waiting for this moment when she woke.

  Riley paused, everything in her going still, the better to absorb the monumental changes happening so fast in her body and mind. Around her, the others faded far into the background as her every sense seemed to heighten. Moisture hung heavy in the air. She could feel the individual droplets on her skin, breathe them into her lungs. Beneath her feet, the earth moved again, urging her forward. She knew exactly what she had to do—cleanse her mother’s body and consecrate her, preparing for her return to Mother Earth. Annabel was a daughter of the earth, lent for a short time and she needed to be returned with reverence and thanks.

  She would have to set the four corners and call in the elements and directions that would bind the energies, but first she would honor her mother by purifying and cleansing her body. The blood seeping into the ground no longer sickened her. Everywhere that dark liquid of life touched, the soil reached for the richness, her mother’s life, refueling and enriching in the cycle of rebirth.

  Riley raised her hands to the sky, calling to the moisture, drawing all those heavy drops to her. Rain answered, a fine shower, falling across the remains of her mother’s body, mixing with her blood so that it seemed to come alive, moving in droplets off the leaves and branches to roll to the ground and slowly begin to seep deep into the earth. When the last of the blood had disappeared into the ground, Riley called to the currents of air swirling in the canopy, waiting all along for her to utilize the element. The rain ceased as the wind circled the body, acting as a fan, drying Annabel’s remains.

  Deep inside, Riley felt a burning through her body, that electrical current leaping to light, and her hands stretched toward her mother, weaving an intricate pattern in the air. She was absolutely certain of every movement, no hesitation, the weave leaping to life until a low blue ethereal flame burned over the remains and was instantly gone.

  She reached down and took soil into her hands. “Mother Earth, I’m returning your daughter to you. I thank you for the gift of life. The years of happiness. The service to humanity.” As she murmured the words, she allowed the rich soil to drift over Annabel’s remains.

  Riley looked to the north and called in the power of Air. As the currents once again began to swirl around her, she faced south, calling on the power of Earth. The ground answered, trembling, coming alive. She turned toward the east and called Fire, until the area around her mother’s body was etched in low-burning flame. She faced west and called to the power of Water to purify and renew.

  Riley’s hands again began to weave a pattern, a conductor of an orchestra, as she murmured soft, powerful words. “Air, Earth, Fire, Water, hear my prayer. See your daughter look upon her child this night. Aid her healing through this plight. Let fire fuel a savage cleansing. Let air sweep away negative endings. Water clears the cleansing pyre as Earth brings forth renewed desire. Air, Earth, Fire, Water, design a ring of natural power. Circle round and thrice be bound, take your daughter into the ground. Accept your daughter back this night and always hold her close and tight. Let none disturb this place of peace and within this circle may my mother find peace. As above, so below.”

  Earth took a long breath. Riley felt it. Heard it. The answer to her prayerful ritual. The ground trembled. Rippled. Came alive. Everywhere the pools and spattered droplets of Annabel’s blood had sunk deep, flowers and green plants shot up, pushing through rich soil toward the sky. Again the land shivered. Beneath the torn body, the rain forest floor cracked and sank, pulling Annabel’s remains into those deep crevices. Black loam bubbled up, rich with minerals, and with it, shoots of green burst through the dirt to reach for the sky.

  There was no trace of Annabel, or the gore that had been. Plants were so thick the entire terrain had become a grotto of beauty. Lying in the middle of a sea of starry night flowers was Mother Earth’s offering—her mother’s necklace. The piece had been handed down through generations, and Annabel had never taken it off once her mother had died.

  Riley placed one foot carefully in front of the other, circling her mother’s resting place, allowing the peace to seep into her bones. She sank into that field of white flowers, and placed her hands on either side of the gift remaining from her mother. The stalks and petals reached for her. The soil moved over her, rushing around her, welcoming her.

  The connection hit her like a fireball, storming through her body, unfurling in her brain, the earth reaching out to her, welcoming her daughter, sharing her gifts. Knowledge grew fast, spread through her veins, into her bones, pressed into every cell. From the core of the planet, she felt the heartbeat, heard the whispers of truth, of creation. The plants close to her reached to wrap tendrils around her, to touch her. Trees bent without wind, dipping low to honor her. The wind touched her face, breathing cool air across her warm face.

  The soil poured over her bare fingers, and as it did, she felt the easing of her terrible grief. The lump burning in her throat lessened, giving her relief. As her fingers dug deep, searching for that last connection with her mother, she felt a ripple in the ground, a subtle echo of evil. Her mother’s consecrated resting place pushed that whisper, that last gasp of evil away, but Riley’s stomach lurched. Everything her mother had told her about her past and the volcano was true. Triumph permeated the soil, harsh glee that her mother had been brutally murdered, leaving evil to once again emerge and roam free, feeding on innocents.

  Her heart stuttered. The evil faded back in the direction of the volcano. A sense of urgency assailed her. She had to get to the mountain and seal it before whatever monstrous thing was held prisoner could escape. Quickly she pulled her hands from the soil, and turned her head to loo
k toward the smoldering mountain.

  Riley reached down into the bed of white star flowers and lifted the heirloom from the blossoms, a gift given by Mother Earth to her long-dead ancestor. Her fingers trembled as she ran the pad of her thumb over the fine silver in the shape of a large dragon with eyes of fiery agate. The claws held an orb of obsidian. She stared down at the piece, remembering all the times her mother had shown it to her, hidden there like treasure around her neck, guarded beneath her clothing. The thin chain was gone, so Riley slipped the gift into her pocket and zipped the pocket closed.

  Gary held out his hand to her and Riley allowed him to help her up. For the first time she looked around at her fellow travelers. They all wore sympathetic expressions and were watching her closely. She realized that the forest had obscured their vision of her and what she was doing, branches reaching out, both brush and trees, to hide the purification ritual from interested eyes.

  “We need to tend to those wounds,” Gary said.

  “I have to go,” Riley said. “There’s no time.”

  Gary shook his head. “You know you can’t take chances. Disinfect the bites and scratches and we’ll gather everything and get going.”

  The others one by one filed past Annabel’s resting place, touching Riley’s shoulder, nodding at her, some murmuring a prayer. The three guides performed their own ritual. Riley, as Gary turned her battle wounds into streaks of fire, looked around for the porters.

  “It wasn’t his fault,” she said. “Capa. It wasn’t his fault.”

  Miguel turned to look at her. “Thank you for that.”

  “Don’t you feel the difference? That awful droning buzz is gone,” Riley pointed out. “Ouch.” She pushed at Gary’s hand. He ignored her and continued dabbing on some fiery liquid. “Don’t you feel lighter? The dread is gone. All the tension. Two people just died and we should all be very tense, but instead, that horrible feeling of impending doom has disappeared.”