by Lark Brennan
He rubbed the stiffness at the back of his neck. Even with autopilot, forty-eight hours of non-stop sailing had been grueling—long stretches of sitting in the sun and hours in the dark interrupted with surges of intense activity. A quick shower rinsed off the salt and he changed into running clothes, all the while psyching himself up to venture on land.
His sensor hadn’t picked up any orphic hot spots on Tortola and the online history of the BVI hadn’t mentioned any massacres. But as he’d learned on his first day with the hostile spirits in Fat Dog, websites designed to promote tourism tended to leave out unsavory historic details.
After closing the hatch and setting the security, he took a couple of minutes to stretch on deck, glancing up and down the dock to see if anyone was paying a little too much attention to him. Three middle-aged women with their cocktails stared at him from the deck of a sailboat two slips down, but otherwise everyone seemed absorbed in their own business. Of course, any assassin worth shit would be invisible and Bodie would be dead before he knew he was in someone’s crosshairs. Cheery thought. He stepped up on the gunwale and onto the dock.
His pulse quickened as he walked toward land. Beneath his running shoes the wooden planks sighed under his weight. All of his attention focused on the asphalt ahead, he breathed deeply. In, out. In, out. The land’s energy shimmered, simultaneously familiar and strange. This part he loved—the clean untainted delphic energy caressing his skin, welcoming, embracing. His exhaustion melted as his feet pounded the pavement that wound past the waterfront shops toward the hills.
A shadow loomed to his right. Then another farther along. Luminescent globes hovered among the palm trees lining the road. Outrun them. Don’t look. They’re spirits without mass or bodies. They can’t hurt you. But he knew that they could. The angry espectros on Fat Dog had attacked him and stolen his breath the first day he arrived. If he hadn’t crawled into the water, they might have killed him. These on Tortola lacked the aggressive malevolence of the Obeah witch’s jumbies, but ever since he died and returned to the land of the living, ghosts and spirits had been a problem.
He picked up his pace, veering up a path leading to the hilltop where he sensed benevolent orphic energy.
The shades hovered ominously in the sunshine before blinking out.
Chapter Six
“Can I get you another?” the waiter asked.
Bodie jiggled the ice at the bottom of his glass, surprised he’d already downed his second rum and tonic. “Sure, why not? And a menu, please.”
Eight twenty-seven and Lex still hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t pegged her for the fashionably late type. Went to show how well he read women.
From his table along the side wall he could look out on the harbor and protect his back. He reached for his water glass and drained it in one long swallow. He’d been watching the dock but she’d entered by the terrace entrance from the street.
“Sorry I’m late.” Lex said.
He turned to make a snide remark about punctuality and froze. “What the hell is that?”
In spite of her expensive navy knit tank dress and strappy sandals, her arms held a filthy bag of bones covered in brown and black fur. At least he assumed it was fur. Both of the animal’s ears were torn and something had eaten away the skin around its neck.
“He’s a dog.”
“And you’re carrying him because…?”
“I stole him from the backyard of a shack on my way here. He was tied up with no water, no food, and barely enough rope to lie down in the dirt.”
The dog turned his head to study Bodie with sad brown eyes, as if to say Give me a break here. From the shape of his head, he looked like a pit bull or pit bull mix.
“What are you going to do with him?”
She scowled. “I’m taking him back to the Ariel. We have some basic vet facilities.” She adjusted the dog in her arms, revealing a greasy mud spot on the front of her dress. “Sorry about dinner. I’m getting the feeling the waiter won’t be thrilled if my friend and I join you.”
As the young man stalked in their direction, Bodie sighed. “Need help with the pooch?”
Her smile beamed so warmly it took his breath away. The woman was a stunner. No doubt about it.
Her fingers tenderly stroked the dog’s head. “If you don’t mind. He needs a bath and I may have to stitch up his ears. I promise he’ll be sweet but he may get frightened.”
Promise he’ll be sweet? A pit bull? Was she kidding? From the way she cuddled the filthy creature, apparently not.
Bodie rose and threw some bills on the table. He glanced at the battered dog and then at her dress. “Do you want me to carry him?”
“Thanks. I’ve got him.” Then she added, “We’re still bonding.”
“Right.”
Pedestrians strolled the walkway along the waterfront—sailors, island youth, tourists soaking up local color. A whiff of marijuana smoke and laughter drifted to shore from a dive boat tied to a finger dock, and a pair of old men sat in lawn chairs fishing from the end of the concrete pier. It had been a long time since he’d seen this many people in one place.
Next to him Lex murmured endearments and reassurances to the dog as though the little guy understood all the good boys and I’ll take care of yous. Aside from the starvation and ripped ears, he was beginning to envy the poor animal.
They cut across the point toward the commercial pier where the Ariel was docked, leaving the lively tourist activity behind. He sensed trouble before it came into high definition. Six young guys, definitely locals, dressed rasta-gangsta hung outside a sleazy bar. Their loud voices carried.
Bodie crossed behind Lex to walk between her and the thugs. “Don’t look, don’t hurry,” he said softly.
She drew the dog closer in her arms. “Roger that.”
In his peripheral vision, he sized them up. He had at least seven inches and forty pounds on all of them except a fat guy sitting in a plastic chair eating potato chips from a king-sized bag. One on one, none would be a problem. All six at once—not great odds.
He kept walking, steady, confident, his hand on the small of Lex’s back. They passed under a street light and through his fingertips he felt her back muscles stiffen.
“Hey, man. That bitch got my dog!”
Automatically Bodie stepped between Lex and the punk swaggering in their direction. He was like so many angry guys from Bodie’s youth—looking for a fight just for something to do. With his sorry-ass compadres egging him on, he pulled a couple feet of knotted leather from a back pocket and flicked it in Bodie’s direction.
“Nobody thiefs nothing from me, man,” he growled.
Shit. Fighting over a woman was one thing. A mangy goddamned dog… hell, this wasn’t how he wanted to spend his evening. “Leave it alone,” he said.
The punk sneered. “You think you can make me?”
Lex’s hand clasped his arm, her fingers digging into his bicep. He turned to reassure her and froze.
“Back off, Bodie. He’s mine.”
As Bodie started to object, the punk’s eyes widened, first in surprise then in terror. He clutched his gut and doubled over with a panicked cry of agony. His knees buckled and he went to the ground, writhing on the concrete.
“That’s how starvation feels, motherfucker,” she spat. “How do you like it?”
An instant later, the young man clawed at his throat, choking and fighting for air, his fingers frantically tearing at the invisible noose around his neck.
“You like being strangled, asshole?” she hissed.
Bodie watched in paralyzed fascination.
Abruptly the punk fell still and greedily gulped in air between stifled sobs. His friends had split, all but the fat guy whose plastic chair shook like a Barcalounger on high. He crossed himself when Bodie glanced his way.
Lex took two steps toward her victim, her face now a pale mask devoid of emotion. “If you ever hurt another animal, I’m coming back for you,” she said. “We clear?”
She turned to Bodie and studied his face. There was fear in her eyes, mixed with defiance. The specter of a childhood memory chilled his mind and twisted his gut. No, this wasn’t the same at all. Common sense told him to put distance between himself and this woman.
Lex strode away toward the docks and in three strides Bodie caught up with her. “You want to tell me what just happened?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry you saw that.”
“Yeah? And exactly what the hell did I see?”
“Nothing. Just forget it, okay?” The dog whimpered and she stroked his head.
“You talk or I’m out of here,” he said.
Her eyes turned hard and cold. “What about my whales?”
“Your decision.”
“It’s complicated,” she said.
“Try me.”
The dog whimpered in her arms.
“Hey, Lex!” a young woman called from behind them.
A group of two young women and three guys—all wearing white shirts and Khaki shorts—headed their way.
“What did you do to that guy?” he growled.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said, then called out to the others. “Come meet my new friends.”
She made quick introductions and the other two women fussed over the dog. Fuming, Bodie didn’t bother to remember their names.
“Jen and Ash will help me with the little guy. Why don’t you go back and have that dinner I dragged you away from,” Lex said.
She wasn’t getting off that easy. “Why don’t you let your friends take the dog and you can catch up with them after we discuss that little incident you were about to explain.”
Lex shook her head. “This little fella trusts me now. I can’t just hand him off. We can talk tomorrow.”
He started to insist when the expression in her eyes hardened.
“Good night, Bodie,” she said and followed her team in the direction of the Ariel.
He stared after her. What the hell had Lex done to that guy? Unbidden, visions ricocheted around his head—a collage of old memories returning with a vengeance. He shoved them back in their dark hole. One refused to go. The rhythm of tribal drums pounded, the thick hypnotic tang of incense and blood filled the air. Zamora, his Orixá mother, swayed in the torchlight as her worshippers danced themselves into a frenzy. From his hiding place he had watched it all—what he now knew was an orgy where not all participants had been volunteers.
In his memory he saw Zamora, her Brazilian beauty glowing with the power of possession, long black hair swirling around her shoulders, black eyes full of fire. She raised her hand—the blood red talons exactly the shade of her lips—and the drums went silent.
An instant later the undulating mass had fallen to its knees and stilled. João alone failed to bow. In a rage, his mother collected the fire from the air and shot it at her lover. It snaked around his neck until he screamed and then it poured into his mouth.
The seven-year-old Bodie had wanted to do something but he’d been unable to move. And then it was too late. The only father he’d ever known burst into flames before his eyes.
Chapter Seven
“You know, Earl, I think you’ve put on a couple of pounds already.” Lex broke off a small piece of her blueberry muffin and fed it to the dog. They’d climbed aboard the Talos at six-thirty with a thermos of coffee and eight hot muffins. Half the coffee was gone. Earl had eaten three muffins to Lex’s one and was eyeing the bag with the others.
“Think we should wake him up?” she asked.
Earl rested his head on her thigh.
“Fifteen more minutes, that’s it.” The news David broke to her at breakfast would have had her in the air already if it wasn’t for Bodie. She needed to see his scanner and daylight was wasting. After what he witnessed last night, however, his cooperation wasn’t a given.
She’d lost control and let her emotions rule her head. She knew better and yet when she plugged into Earl’s fear and memories her rage had taken over. The projections had never been so intense or painful before.
And Bodie had witnessed the entire ugly scene. Last night she’d been too shaken to come up with a reasonable story. Lying made the most sense although her pesky conscience kept badgering her to give him enough truth to respect his intelligence. He’d trusted her with his delphic energy explanation, maybe he’d take the leap to animal telepathy.
The hatchway rattled as it was unlocked from within. Earl watched the door, wary of the danger that might lurk there. She stroked his head to reassure them both.
Bodie’s head emerged followed by a mostly naked and very impressive torso. He saw her sitting on the stern. “Shit.”
“Good morning to you, too.” She lifted the thermos. “I brought peace offerings. Java and muffins.”
“Go away.”
She poured coffee into a mug and got up. “I can’t. We need to talk. You’ll feel better when you’ve had caffeine.”
Ignoring his scowl, she handed him the coffee. Up close the tattoo banding his right bicep was intricate and colorful, a masterpiece even to her untrained eye. “That must have smarted,” she said.
His right hand flew to his chest, and he coughed and swore in the same breath. Only then did she notice the scars of three bullet holes and twin deep grooves between his pecs that appeared surgical and definitely not ornamental. Tempting as it was to pry, she knew she was already in deep water with him.
“I meant the armband. I’m not usually a fan of…”
“I don’t care.” He downed the rest of the coffee and handed her back the cup. “I quit. I’m leaving this morning.”
“You can’t quit.”
Glaring down at her, he took a step forward. “Any time. That was our deal. Are you going to call your brother and tell him to force me to stay?”
The thought had occurred to her. “No. I wouldn’t do that.”
“And you wouldn’t make me yourself?”
A shiver shot up her spine. After the data the team received this morning, she couldn’t let him walk away, not if there was the slightest chance he could help.
“I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to. I promise.”
An eyebrow cocked over those shrewd silver eyes. “Not good enough. Come clean with everything or I’m out of here.”
Oddly, part of her wanted to tell him everything, to bare her soul and ask for understanding. The rest wanted to tell him to stick it.
“Okay, everything,” she said. “You’ll want to sit down. Trust me.”
• • •
She cleared her throat before speaking. “I’m an animal telepath.”
“A what?”
“Animal telepath. It means I can communicate with animals telepathically. Read their thoughts and send them mine. Some species like dogs are fairly sophisticated communicators, especially if they have a lot of interaction with people.”
He snapped to attention. “Wait, you read minds?” Great. He tried to focus on the larger implications. Had he imagined her naked? Of course he had.
Lex shook her head. “No. Not humans, only animals. People are a different…” She paused and thought for a moment. “People have a different mental wavelength that I don’t pick up. Sometimes I pick up animals’ emotions too, but their emotions are harder to understand than their formulated thoughts.”
At least she couldn’t read his thoughts. That was good.
“So why are you telling me this?”
Her gaze dropped to the dozing dog. “When that S.O.B. shouted at us last night, Earl panicked. I saw and felt what he did to Earl—the starvation, thirst, choking on his own collar, and being torn up by other dogs in the ring. I lost it. The terror Earl felt was so vivid and real inside me, I lost control and projected the whole horror show on that piece of shit. He deserved it and worse. I’m not sorry, Bodie. Not for what I did. I am sorry you saw it.”
His mind reeled, trying to tune in to a channel he recognized. Was s
he kidding? Projecting the dog’s memories on the punk? He shook his head. “You know how crazy that sounds, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You read the dog’s mind? What makes you think I’ll buy this?”
“I believe you sense the earth’s delphic energy and feel the good and evil in what you call orphic energy. That’s a sophisticated psychic talent. I can’t do that. Why wouldn’t you believe I have the ability to sense energy you’ve never experienced? Isn’t that rather narrow-minded?”
“I can’t channel the energy,” he said.
“Really? You’re sure about that?”
The stadium lights went on in his head, and she took her point in for a touchdown. “You’ve never even tried, have you?”
Until that instant, the idea of controlling the energy with his mind had never occurred to him. Scientifically, yes, and, of course, electronically. Never being the conduit himself. Was it possible? The physicist in him said no. The engineer said hell no. But what if it was possible?
“Intriguing thought, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Fine. You transmit emotions. The guy was a nasty piece of shit and deserved to have his ass kicked. I’m fine with that.” He noted her obvious relief. “So we’re cool.”
“Good, because something came up last night.”
Another ploy. There was no way she knew about the new red spot and he needed to get going to investigate it. “Yeah, well, I’m taking off.”
“I need to look at your sensor.”
“Why?”
“Last night we lost tracking signals on two pods of dolphins, for sixty-seven minutes on the first and sixty-three minutes on the second. Only two males have a GPS tracker in the first pod and only one in the second pod. Both signals were lost in the same area about 800 meters apart.”
The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “What time did you lose them?”
“The first pod at one-thirty-seven.”
He pushed himself to his feet. The sensor had first detected the red spot around then.
