Island Tango (Silver Goddess Series, Book One)

by Anisa Claire West

  Herculea would remain awake until breakfast. The only thing she could do was release her energy in a constructive physical way. How she longed to be at the gym right now. Imagining herself safe in one of her beloved fitness classes, she sprawled out on the carpeted floor and began a series of yoga poses. Her stiff muscles instantly began to melt as she stretched her arms overhead, spreading her fingers and toes. After her cat-like stretch, Herculea rolled over onto her belly and flowed into backbending poses.

  Starting with sphinx and progressing to cobra, she lifted her body weight effortlessly. Yoga backbends open the heart chakra, allowing more love and joy to enter the body. She could use some love and joy, Herculea reflected wistfully. After the backbends, Herculea sprung to her feet to move through an invigorating sequence of sun salutations. As she took a graceful swan dive and hopped back into plank pose, warm rays of sun began to filter into the room.

  The sun was still rising when Herculea met Kent in the dining room. Herculea’s eyes glittered to behold an elegant buffet table. Draped in a white tablecloth, the buffet would be considered a hearty breakfast for anyone, but in Herculea’s state of deprivation, it was an absolute banquet. She grabbed a china plate and piled hot scrambled eggs onto it, followed by saffron rice and beans. Bypassing the fruit and wrinkling her nose at the slimy bacon, Herculea selected a sweet roll before pouring a fragrant cup of Brazilian roast. Food was not all her body needed. After her abbreviated sleep, she also needed a hefty dose of caffeine; not only would she require an energy burst for today, but for all the days that would follow as she pursued the cure to her immortality.

  Herculea sat down at a dining table overlooking the garden and began feasting on her breakfast. Kent took a seat across from her, gobbling up his own meal. He took a sip of Earl Grey tea and munched on a sausage patty as Herculea wolfed down her food.

  “We need to check out of this hotel.” He announced without warning.

  Herculea looked up in surprise, unable to speak with her mouth full of rice and beans.

  “We can’t come back here after this mission is complete. As soon as we sort out this mess, we’re heading back to California. It’s the safest way.”

  “You’re right. I’m already homesick. I would like nothing more than to be sitting in my office grading some boring papers!”

  Kent looked at Herculea compassionately. “Those boring papers will be waiting for you, I assure you. We will get through this.”

  He reached across the table to give her hand a light squeeze. Suddenly, Herculea felt a rush of guilt. The journey they would be embarking on could present significant perils, and she could not bear the thought of her foolish choices hurting Kent in even the slightest way.

  “I feel so stupid. I should have just come here to do our assignment instead of letting that charlatan manipulate me.” Herculea hung her head.

  “You are most certainly not stupid, Dr. Sanchez. An obstacle has been placed in your path. That is all. I know how much you want to write your book, and I know you will.”

  Kent’s reassurance did wonders to lift the burden of guilt from Herculea’s heart. Now, she was the one to reach across the table to touch him. Sliding her hand over his wrist, she caressed his arm and smiled warmly. Kent stared at her hand as she touched him. Even from Herculea’s lightest touch, he could feel the electricity sizzle inside of him, and it drove him insane wondering if she felt the same way.

  Chapter 8

  Perched on the edge of her sterling throne, fanning herself restlessly, the Silver Goddess felt agitated. Thaddeus had taken off again on an herb-seeking excursion. The bonehead was so incompetent that he probably wouldn’t make it back for hours, she stewed. The manservants were behaving lazily on this broiling summer day, and the Goddess was left to her own devices. But it wasn’t the ridiculous men in her life bothering her today. No, it was something in her own milieu, something very odd indeed.

  Since the last phase of the moon, there had been a shift on the Island of Vinova. The moon looked more slender than it should in waxing crescent, and the shoreline had widened. These natural phenomena only occurred when someone had chosen to imbibe the wine and claim immortality. But, to the Goddess’s knowledge, no one on the island could have done so. Everyone who lived there was already immortal, for better or for worse.

  Who, then, could be responsible for the moon’s irregularity and the sand sweeping away from the water’s edge as though in preparation to welcome someone new? Like a jagged bolt of lightning, a terrible revelation struck the Silver Goddess: somehow, somewhere in the world, a person had entered the Immortality Abyss. The Silver Goddess comfortably kept track of every member of her deathless entourage. But Pedro was a wild card. Since she had banished him, he was no longer under her manipulation. He was free to roam the world and, worst of all, he had stolen her precious book before he left.

  “But why now?!” She seethed. “Why now? I banished that fool nearly a century ago. In all these years, no one from the outside has become immortal. Why did this happen now? And who is it?”

  Intuitively, the Silver Goddess knew that Pedro had finally fallen in love again. That would be the only explanation for him to cajole someone into immortality. Cajole---or force? A fresh horror swept over her. If this newly immortal woman---this Stolen Mortal---were to come anywhere near the Island of Vinova, the Silver Goddess’s powers would be weakened and, ultimately, susceptible to destruction. Unless, of course, the Stolen Mortal decided to renounce her immortality and swallow the antidote. Then, the Silver Goddess would retain her power, whereas Pedro would be transformed into an old man.

  “Damn it!” The Goddess screamed, stomping her high heel repeatedly onto the floor before ripping the shoe from her foot and hurling it across the room.

  “Ouch!” The pitiful sound was followed by a sulky glare from Thaddeus. “What on earth are you doing? You could have poked my eye out!”

  “Lucky for you it landed on your forehead.” She shrugged her delicate shoulders nonchalantly.

  “But why did you throw it at me?” Thaddeus demanded, massaging his temples.

  “I didn’t throw it at you, fool. I didn’t even know you were there.” She glanced at his hands, frowning to note that they were empty.

  Thaddeus raised a hand in front of him to prevent her from speaking. She raised a disdainful arched eyebrow at him, but remained silent.

  “I didn’t feel like fetching your herbs like a dog for you today. I’m tired. I need to relax.” He continued to rub the red welt on his forehead as he spoke. “Besides, you still have some spices from my last game of Go Fetch.”

  The Goddess shook her head disgustedly. “You know I like to stock up. The spices will be gone soon enough. If I run out, I would advise you to make yourself scarce and sleep on the south end of the island until you get me some more.”

  “Speaking of the south end, I think I shall go there now. It is more peaceful over there.” Thaddeus turned and began to walk out of the throne room.

  Sleeker than a fox, the Silver Goddess glided off her throne and blockaded the exit. Placing one hand on her hip and another on Thaddeus’s chest, she gave him a look of amusement.

  “You may go to the south end. I won’t miss you tonight. But for now, I would like you to accompany me to my chamber. Sing me a little lullaby before bed.” She winked at him playfully, although the expression on her haughty face was pure poison.

  “I am not in the mood.” Thaddeus muttered coldly, determined not to be manipulated by her again.

  “In the mood for what?” She asked sardonically. “To sing me a lullaby? OK, then tell me a bedtime story. Make it one of your Greek myths.”

  “Stop being facetious. I know what you want, and I am not delivering tonight. I am going to the south end right now.”

  Ferocious laughter bubbled in the Silver Goddess’s throat. It was quaint how Thaddeus thought that he could be in control even for one evening.

  Pinpointing his greatest weakness, she sighed and announc
ed, “Very well. Since you are not a man, I shall find another. Hmmm, which manservant shall it be tonight? The one who did such a good job cleaning up my wine goblet in the bath chamber? Or…”

  Thaddeus cut her off and grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. “That’s enough! You will call on no other man. I will show you how much of a man I am, right here.”

  Thaddeus pressed up against her thigh, boldly revealing his hardness as she breathed in satisfaction. She began to disrobe, slipping gracefully out of her gown until it was a silver pool of silk around her ankles.

  “Right here.” She repeated sweetly, watching indulgently as Thaddeus tore off his own clothing in a storm of haste.

  Jealousy was truly his downfall, she thought gleefully. He could not bear the thought of another man touching her body and giving her pleasure. She moaned ecstatically as Thaddeus took her with one masterful stroke.

  “Ah sim, sim, sim!” She screamed in Portuguese, hoping a manservant would hear her and pass by to watch.

  Thaddeus’s movements became more frenetic, and the Goddess moaned in protest, desperate to slow him down. In one devastating motion, she retracted her hips, as his manhood slipped out of her and he growled in frustration. Immediately, he penetrated her again, but this time moved slowly, and she moaned with every stroke.

  “Yes, like that.” She purred triumphantly.

  Spying a sweating manservant out of the corner of her eye, the Silver Goddess became more theatrical and shoved her breasts into Thaddeus’s face as he assaulted them hungrily with his mouth.

  Oblivious to the pair of avid eyes hawking them from down the corridor, Thaddeus mindlessly sought out his own pleasure. In a vice grip he held her hips as she moaned more loudly.

  Thaddeus’s mouth returned to her breasts as he muttered, “These are like globes of candy.”

  The Silver Goddess answered with a lusty giggle. Suddenly, from down the hall, a thud startled them both. Thaddeus whipped his head around to see the manservant clumsily fall back against the wall.

  Throwing a deadly glare at the salivating manservant, Thaddeus focused his attention on the luscious woman in his arms. With a loud grunt, Thaddeus lifted her hips higher and shoved himself deeper inside her, finally reaching his satisfaction. The pleasure and release were so intense that for a moment his vision went blurry. The Goddess took her own gratification with him and screamed in triumph as the sweating man collapsed against her.

  Quickly regaining his composure and refusing to linger in the wicked woman’s clutches, Thaddeus pulled his clothes back on and ran down the hallway without saying a word. The Silver Goddess was too sated at the moment to care.

  Leaving her silver gown in a heap on the floor, she strolled naked to her bedchamber. As she walked, she could hear the shouts of Thaddeus and the manservant. Hearing the clink of metal, the Goddess knew that they could be dueling, but she was not worried. Thaddeus was nothing but a hot air balloon. Just as he threatened to leave her, he also threatened the lives of the manservants when he felt jealous. But the manservants knew their place on the island and generally retreated. It was all so perfectly organized under her control.

  Reaching her bedchamber, she glanced out the window at the oddly shaped moon and shot it a warning look. Not even Mother Nature herself could take away what the Silver Goddess had procured for herself. Her lifestyle was meant to last an eternity, and she would ensure that it would. Pedro could not vanquish her, nor could his new lover, damn it.

  *****

  The cottage was perched on a grassy knoll at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. A vegetable garden bursting with crops of string beans, carrots, and tomatoes, surrounded the abode. A pear tree stood next to the garden and offered a bounty of pale green fruits. A carefully laid stone path led the way to the cottage’s front door where a fuzzy welcome mat greeted visitors. As Herculea surveyed the property, she found it incredible that an old man lived here all alone. She had expected the land to be uncultivated and the residence unadorned. But everywhere tiny details, like a rose patch and wishing well, gave the home an air of warmth and hospitality.

  With Kent standing beside her, Herculea knocked on the door. As soon as the sound reverberated in her ears, a white-haired man dressed in a 1920’s era suit opened the door. Wearing a broad, toothy grin and waving his hands theatrically, the man spoke before either Kent or Herculea had the chance.

  “Bom dia!” The man spoke in Portuguese as though he were greeting old friends rather than strangers.

  Herculea had the peculiar feeling that, somehow, he had been expecting them.

  “Bom dia, Senhor. Do you speak English?” Herculea inquired politely, tempted to curtsy in the presence of this gallant man.

  It was easy to forget, at least momentarily, that this man was the Secret Keeper, not someone’s sweet old grandfather. The man scratched his beard thoughtfully. If Herculea didn’t know better she would have thought that she had stumbled upon Santa Claus or Father Time.

  The jovial man replied with a dazzling white smile, “I speak many languages. But it has been a while since I spoke English.” His cheeks reddened as if he were embarrassed by his rusty language skills and prominent Brazilian accent.

  Without introducing himself or inquiring as to the names of his guests, the man exclaimed, “Please come in!”

  Kent and Herculea exchanged a perplexed look as they followed the man inside his cottage. The inside of the cottage was as lovely as the outside, furnished with inviting sofas and equipped with a fireplace full of kindling.

  “I just picked some vegetables from the garden.” The old man pointed to a cherrywood table where a platter of freshly chopped snacks and milky dip were artfully arranged.

  Politely, Herculea selected a carrot stick as Kent reached for a plum tomato and popped it into his mouth. Herculea nearly gasped at the sweetness of the carrot. It tasted sweeter than any of the fruit Pedro had served her. The carrot had an earthy tang, the exact opposite of the mango juice’s bitter aftertaste. She smiled and reached for one of the sugar snap peas.

  “I think that is called “dressing” in English. I made it myself from sour cream, pepper, and a few secret ingredients.”

  “Thank you for the vegetables. They’re really delicious.” She mumbled, grateful that Kent was sitting quietly and allowing her to control the situation.

  “Thank you. Now, what may I do for you?” The old man sat back in his armchair and folded his hands in his lap, waiting for her to speak.

  “My name is Herculea Sanchez and I---“

  The old man’s uncannily pearly smile increased in wattage. “And I am your Secret Keeper!” He replied in a jolly tone.

  Herculea was stunned. “How do you know that?!”

  “Because nobody comes to visit me. I have waited almost 100 years for a Stolen Mortal to come to me. You have been deceived, yes?” The old man’s smile faded, replaced by a deeply compassionate stare.

  “Yes, I have.” Herculea said weakly.

  “I know what you need, and I will help you. But you must help me as well. I have been in this old man’s body for too many years. When you become mortal again, I will be youthful! I lost my youth to the selfishness of the evil two. I will not say their names aloud.” The old man shuddered and shriveled in his chair.

  Herculea knew he was talking about Pedro and the Silver Goddess. She saw no need to utter their vile names either.

  The old man continued, recovering some of his earlier lightheartedness. “I know where the Island of Vinova is, and I will help you get there.” His expression turned grave again. “But I warn you that you will be facing many dangers.”

  “I am ready to face any danger necessary. As long as I can undo this curse!” Herculea cried, shaking her head in desperation.

  The old man regarded her with brown eyes the color of the garden’s fertile soil. “It is the Ancestors’ fault for writing this book in the first place. The horrible Ancestors!” Sparks of anger ignited in the old man’s eyes. “Let m
e explain everything. Ninety nine years ago, I met a woman named Mathilda. Pedro was her lover, but I didn’t know this at the time. I was lonely. My wife, Teresa, had died a few years earlier during childbirth to our first baby.” The Secret Keeper’s voice trembled as tears brimmed his eyelids. “It was a little boy, and he died too, a few days after he was born. He couldn’t live without his mother’s love.”

  The Secret Keeper’s tears flowed in earnest now, and Herculea sensed that he had not broached this topic in many years, if ever.

  “I’m so sorry.” Herculea said, feeling the inadequacy of her words even as she spoke them.

  The Secret Keeper nodded solemnly in response. “I was living alone in Rio. One day, I was walking down the street and saw Mathilda. She was so beautiful, even though I could tell she was a little older than me. I didn’t care. I desired her, and she seemed to desire me as well. She never told me about Pedro. I only found out after…” The Secret Keeper’s broken voice trailed off.

  “After what?” Herculea asked, feeling a wave of sadness for what the old man had endured all these years.

  “Matilda invited me one evening for dinner. She said she would cook me a delicious meal. No one had cooked for me since Teresa. I thought this night could be the beginning of a new life. I was so stupid.” The Secret Keeper slapped his hand on his thigh and pounded the armrest with his fist.

  “I’ve been telling myself the same thing! But you can’t ever blame yourself. Evil people can deceive the most intelligent of us. Lying is their only expertise.” Herculea felt like running over to the old man and giving him a bear hug, but she stayed in her seat.

  “Thank you, dear. When I got there, I was shocked to see another man. I was so stupid and asked if he was her brother! He was Pedro. He became so jealous and threatened to fight me. Then, he suddenly changed his mind and offered me a goblet of red wine. I drank it, and I will never forget that bitter taste. Like salt and fire and smoke together with other strange things I cannot name. But I drank it anyway.” As the Secret Keeper scrunched his face up at the memory, Herculea remembered the bitter taste of the mango juice Pedro had served her.