Fire Dancer

by Linsey Lanier

  “If they look you in the eye, beware. You will disappear.”

  Just then, his eye caught Miranda’s gaze.

  Terrified and lost in wonder, Miranda gripped the seat of her chair as she stared back at the young man. And then the strangest thing happened.

  He seemed suddenly familiar. As if she knew him, somehow. As if she had some kind of cosmic connection with him. His hair, his angular jaw line. She almost felt as if she were looking at her own reflection in the mirror.

  Or her own soul.

  And then he brushed back his hair and she saw it.

  A round, dark spot on the side of his neck.

  Cold chills skittered up the back of Miranda’s neck. Her hands gripped the seat of her chair. She wanted to gasp, but couldn’t utter a sound.

  The drumbeat started again. It sped up. The chorus chanted. The young dancer spun his torches faster and faster. Until on a feverish crescendo, he tossed them both into the air at once—and they disappeared.

  And the stage went black.

  Chapter Four

  Feeling a bit tipsy and still unnerved, Miranda made a show of waltzing into the bridal suite of the hotel. “What a night.”

  Behind her, Parker closed the door and regarded her with concern. “I don’t think that story about the Night Watchers was supposed to be part of the show. It didn’t frighten you, did it?”

  With a loud scoff, she waved a hand at him. “Who me?”

  “Ah. I didn’t think so.” She knew he knew she was fibbing.

  She thought about the dancer and the way he’d stared at her. “He had…” She almost gestured at her neck. “Never mind.”

  Watching her, Parker frowned. He had seen it too. The dark mark on the young performer’s neck. It could be coincidence, but he feared he knew what the mark might mean, though it didn’t make sense. Even so, it was too soon for Miranda to deal with it. Her body needed healing. Her soul soothing. He would do all he could to protect her from further pain.

  Pushing away the bad feelings, Miranda took off her lei and spun it on her wrist, doing a little dance. “I could do that fire number.”

  Parker’s look of concern melted into a smile. “I believe you could.”

  She shimmied over to him, slipped the lei off his neck and twirled it around her other wrist. “So what other surprises do you have for me, Mr. Sneaky?”

  “A number of things. Tomorrow morning we can eat breakfast, sip our coffee on the lanai, and watch the whales. We can go snorkeling. Or for a walk on the beach.”

  “We could do that now if we had flashlights. And maybe do something besides walk on the beach.” She swayed her hips at him like one of those hula dancers and watched his handsome gray eyes flame hotter than the spinning torches in the show.

  “Flashlights are provided by the hotel,” he said with desire in his voice. “They’re in the dresser in the bedroom.”

  She wondered again how he knew so much about this place. It was reasonable to check out amenities prior to a trip, but knowing there were flashlights? Well, Parker always knew a lot about everything. She let it go. She had other things to focus on just now.

  “We could go out there. Warm sand beneath your skin, the rhythm of waves breaking against the shore.” It made her mouth water. She stepped toward him, teasingly drew a lei over his shoulder. “And yet…as fun as that sounds, I don’t think I can make it farther than the bedroom.”

  “Neither can I.” In one swift move, he scooped her up in his strong arms and carried her into the next room, making her giggle.

  “You walk pretty good for a drunken man,” she laughed as he laid her on the tropical print bedspread and began devouring her neck.

  “I believe you’re the one in the inebriated state.” He tugged at the neck of her dress, his hungry lips traveling lower and making desire flame inside her as hot as that dancer’s torches.

  “Oh, yeah?” She started to pull at the dress then remembered it didn’t have a zipper. “How the heck did I get into this thing?”

  Parker chuckled. “I’m sure I don’t know. But we can both get you out of it.”

  “Wait a minute.” She sat up, grabbed the hem of the garment, pulled it up and over her hips. With stubborn tugging and Parker’s help, at last she got it over her head. She tossed it in the air and it landed somewhere on the floor. Her panties followed the dress. She hadn’t worn a bra, so that was it.

  Taking her in, Parker’s gray eyes glistened with desire. “You are so beautiful, Miranda.” He reached out to stroke her now naked body. “I do love you so.”

  And she loved him, too. Delicious sensation rippled through her, making her feel giddier than the Mai Tais. She caught his wrist. “No fair. You have to have a turn.” She reached up to unbutton his semi-gaudy Hawaiian shirt.

  “Hurry,” he whispered, his voice raspy with need.

  She undid the first button with careful precision. “You made me wait. Making sure I had a big meal and some drinks first.”

  His brow furrowed.

  “See? I’m not as inebriated as you think.” She finished the second button.

  Parker’s hands moved to the bottom of the shirt and he made quick work of opening it. “All the better for what I have in mind for you.” He got to his feet, dropped the shirt over a chair and reached for his zipper.

  Delicious thrills assaulted her heart as she watched him remove his shorts and the whole length of those gorgeous, strong thighs appeared before her. The sight of him made her mouth water. “Come here.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He dove in beside her and his hands began working his wonderful magic on her breasts, her sides, her thighs, between her legs.

  “You’re driving me insane.”

  “Just as I intended.”

  “I want you inside me,” she whispered.

  “All in due time.” He began working his way with his lips to the soft spot between her legs. When he reached it, he snatched a pillow from the head of the bed, shoved it under her hips and attacked her flesh with his tongue, taking his sweet time.

  “Oh!” She shivered and groaned in sweet agony as he teased her into sensory overload. Fearing she could stand no more, she dug her fingers into his thick hair. “Hurry.”

  “Patience,” he murmured between strokes.

  “You’re a cruel one.”

  “Aren’t I, though?” He chuckled, but gave in to desire and sped his caresses.

  The pressure between Miranda’s legs began to rise and build. She couldn’t hold back any longer. “I’m—I’m—”

  And just as she thought she’d reached her peak, Parker rose and watched her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Drinking you in with my eyes.”

  “I’m thirsty, too.” She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him to her.

  Now he was the one who couldn’t hold back. He thrust himself into her with powerful, furious moves. She worked her hips against his in mindless passion, sensation heightening, her heart soaring with need and pleasure. Faster, faster, their bodies molded together like waves colliding. And then the spasms came.

  “Oh, dear Lord!” she cried.

  “Yes!” His chest glistened with sweat and his flesh throbbed inside her as he came.

  Her body convulsed with his in pure union, as ancient as the ocean. She cried out in sheer joy, closed her eyes, and sank into a sea of wedded bliss.

  Chapter Five

  What makes you think you deserve to be so happy?

  Her stomach twisted painfully at the words. Behind her, she could hear waves crashing against the shore. There was chanting. And a drumbeat. An endless, relentless drumbeat.

  Huaka’i Po. Watch out. If they see you, you’ll die.

  In the shadows a face appeared. It was distorted, etched with dark, eerie shapes. Mysterious symbols of voodoo or black magic, signifying…death.

  A hand reached out for her.

  Her mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out. Or she couldn’t hea
r it over the drumbeat.

  Heart pounding, she pulled away from the clawing hand.

  “Help me,” a voice cried in the distance. A male voice. It was faint, but somehow she could hear it over the drums.

  Don’t answer. It’s the Night Marchers. Don’t go near them.

  Where were they? It was pitch black. She didn’t know where she was going. In the dark, she felt her way along a jagged, wall-like surface. It felt like rock. A mountain. A volcano. The chanting grew louder. The drumbeat faster.

  And yet over the noise, she heard him again. “Help. He’s killing me.”

  Huaka’i Po. She wanted to help, but the Night Marchers were coming for her. Were they after him, too? She moved along the rock, groping, trying to find him. “Who are you?”

  “I’m drowning.” The voice was weaker that time.

  She must be going the wrong way. How could she get to him?

  And then a thunderbolt flashed across the sky. She saw she was on a high ledge, climbing along the side of a mountain. She felt her way along the curving rocks and inched around a narrow corner. The lightning flashed again and she saw the tattooed face before her, barring her way.

  Its mouth opened. Her heart pounded wildly. And then the face changed. She could see him now. Her breath caught. No. Please, God no.

  Leon.

  “What do you think you’re doing here, you whore?”

  “I wanted to see the ocean.” She turned and tried to run. But the rocks on the ledge beneath her feet gave way. She tumbled off the precipice and went hurtling down, down. He had looked at her. She was going to die.

  Instead she landed hard on a flat surface. Pain jolted through her body. Without getting up, she turned her head. Leon was right behind her.

  Slowly, he pulled his belt out of his pants.

  “No. Leave me alone.”

  She was in her old house, crawling across the floor of the living room, trying desperately to get away from him.

  He looped the belt in his hand, raised his arm and brought it down hard. “See the ocean? I’ll tell you what to want. I’ll tell you what to think.” His blows fell on her head, her back, her shoulders, her arms. Again and again. Stinging, breaking flesh, drawing blood like a whip.

  “Stop it, Leon. Please.” Her own begging was worse than the blows.

  “Don’t tell me what to do.” He struck her again, this time against the side of her face. She felt her lip open, her own blood run down her chin. She had to get away before he killed her.

  “Where are you going, Miranda? You can’t escape me.”

  She could. She would. If she could just get to the stairs. She crawled and crawled. Finally her fingers touched the bottom step.

  She started to heave herself up so she could run, but Leon’s hands snatched at her ankles.

  “Let go.” She lost her balance and fell, smacking her chin on the stair.

  In agonizing pain, she gritted her teeth and wrenched herself up again. She scrambled up the steps, her feet inches away from his groping hands.

  “You can’t get away from me. You’ll never get away. It doesn’t matter how far you go, Miranda. I’ll always be with you.”

  She heard a baby cry. Amy.

  “She’s not yours, Miranda. You have no right to her.”

  “Yes, I do. She’s mine. She’s mine.”

  At last she stumbled up the last step. Leon closing in behind her, she broke free and ran to the nursery. She flung the door open and saw her daughter asleep in her crib.

  Her face was so peaceful. And on the side of her little neck, that strange black mark. The baby opened her eyes and reached out to her with her little hands.

  “Amy,” she whispered. “Mama’s here for you. Don’t cry. I won’t let them take you.”

  But even as she spoke, the chanting began again. And the drumbeat. She watched in horror as dark hands appeared out of nowhere. Horrid arms reached under the baby and lifted her up. Amy’s face twisted into a tiny ball of terror and she began to cry. But her wails were drowned out by the chanting and the drumbeat.

  Miranda raised her head and dared to look into that crazed, tattooed face. The Night Watchers. They were taking Amy.

  “No. No. No. No.”

  With a jolt, Miranda shot up in bed. Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like a knife had been plunged through it. She sat there a minute, trying to catch her breath.

  At last, she ran a hand over her face. “What—time is it?”

  Parker turned over, reached for her. “Are you all right?”

  She was surprised she hadn’t cried out. If she had, he’d have his arms around her now. She longed for that, but he was tired from the long flight and too many Mai Tais. Besides, she didn’t want him to question her.

  “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” She pulled back the covers, got to her feet.

  “Where are you going?” he murmured in a deep, sleepy voice.

  “To the loo. Go back to sleep.” She watched him a moment until he rolled over and his breathing became steady.

  Turning, she trudged to the bathroom, slipping her cell phone off its place on the dresser as she went.

  Still shivering, she sank down onto the edge of the tub and thought of Leon. How did that luau show get mixed up in her nightmare? It was ridiculous. She should be laughing. Instead she was shaken to her core.

  She’d beaten Leon once, but he kept coming back in her dreams. Her subconscious, as Dr. Valerie Wingate, her shrink, would say. And when he did, she felt like he was right here in the room with her. Still trying to get at her. Still trying to beat her down.

  She’d find out if he was still where he belonged. With shaky hands she lifted her cell phone and dialed the number she now knew by heart.

  “Brandywine-Summit Hospital. Third floor. May I help you?”

  “Uh, yes. I’m calling to check on a patient. I’ve called here before few times.”

  “Which patient?” the woman asked tersely. This was a different nurse. Miranda didn’t recognize the voice.

  “Leon Groth.”

  “And you are?”

  “His sister.” She barely winced at her old lie.

  “One moment.” She put her on hold and Miranda was treated to an eternity of elevator music while she sat taping her bare foot on the fancy tiled floor, hoping she’d get the answer she wanted.

  After several long minutes, the voice came back on the line. “I’m sorry ma’am, there’s no change in that patient’s condition.”

  Good. “And the doctors don’t think he’ll wake up soon?”

  “I don’t believe they think he’ll wake up at all.” The nurse didn’t sound like she was sorry about it, but then Miranda wasn’t either.

  “Thank you very much.” She hung up and released a long, slow breath of relief.

  He was still there. He was still in the coma she’d put him in after he’d tried to kill her, and she’d plunged a knife into his back and punctured a lung three months ago.

  Thank God.

  She sat there listening to the silence for a long moment until she realized she’d never get back to sleep. She stood and wiped her face with her hands, remembering Parker had said something about a walk on the beach.

  Suddenly that sounded like a terrific idea.

  She opened the door, stepped out of the bathroom and tiptoed to the rack where the valet had placed her luggage earlier. She opened a bag and found a pair of cuffed black jeans, an olive jersey knit T-shirt, cardigan and canvas tennis shoes. Quietly, she slipped them on, then opened the dresser drawer and rummaged around for one of those flashlights. When she found it, she closed the drawer and crept to the bedroom door.

  There, she hesitated.

  Maybe she should wake Parker up and ask him to go with her. No, she had to be alone right now. She’d send him a text and let him know where she was.

  She crossed the suite’s living room, opened the outside door and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. Reaching for her cell, she thumbed a quick message.r />
  Went for a walk on the beach. Join me if you wake up.

  Then she hustled down the hall and pushed the button for the elevator.

  Chapter Six

  The air was cool and the stretch of beach along the resort was well-lit. She didn’t really need the flashlight. Or her sweater. She took it off and tied it around her waist, dangling the light on her wrist by its strap.

  The tide was high and the steady rhythm of the restless waves against the shore soothed her as she strolled along and breathed in the scent of exotic flowers and plants.

  Everything was so fresh here. It was just the place to rejuvenate. That’s why Parker had brought her here. Nothing but relaxing and fun in the sun.

  Except for her dreams.

  It must have been that fire dance at the luau that had brought on her nightmare. She recalled the hypnotizing look in the handsome young performer’s eyes. The drumbeat, the chanting. All combined, it was pretty spooky.

  Huaka’i Po. Night Marchers. What a crock. She wasn’t superstitious. And she sure didn’t believe in ghosts.

  The only ghost she had to deal with was Leon. She rubbed her arms, shivering again at the memory of her dream. It wasn’t just Leon. It was Amy. Her sweet little Amy. Leon had taken the baby from her when she was only three weeks old and given her up for adoption.

  She hadn’t dreamed about Amy in weeks. Tonight it was almost as if she could really see her again. Could actually reach out and touch her. She had smelled that newborn smell, felt the softness of her skin. But of course, that was all a figment of her own imagination.

  It was never going to happen.

  She kept moving, staring out at the dark, undulating ocean as her heart constricted with fresh pain.

  She’d hunted for her daughter for thirteen years with no luck and even Parker, one of the top PIs in the country, couldn’t find her. Their only option was the courts and that had turned out to be a disastrous, disappointing dead end.