Scented Lust

by Jacqueline Turner Banks

  “I find having those come up behind me a little unnerving,” she explained.

  “Who doesn’t? Now, if you’ll just take a moment to explain how you knew it was about to happen?”

  She laughed. “Come on, Artest, you know how this stuff works. I can’t tell you anything about who or what I am. I’m not a Hunter and I’m not human. Beyond that—–I can’t say.”

  “How long have you known Fox?”

  “A very long time. We’re not always on the same side, but we always want the best for each other.”

  He smiled too. Her declaration sounded like something an ex-wife would say. He wanted to ask if they were lovers, but that certainly wasn’t any of his business.

  “No, we were never lovers,” she said. “Talk about a big fat eww.”

  He felt like Jordan was somewhere laughing at him. Now I know exactly how she felt when I did that.

  “Does Jordan know?”

  “No, and she can’t. When this is over I’ll be leaving the university for my next assignment, but I like her and want to remain friends. I hope you’ll keep my confidence.”

  “Of course.”

  He could see she was driving in the direction of the university. He looked at her again. With her porcelain skin and light brown, blonde-streaked hair, she was attractive enough to be a god, but he’d never known one in this century who didn’t present himself or herself as taller than average, and Leeana was shorter than Jordan.

  “Okay, Artest, I’ll give you this. I am human, but—and this is a big but—I was born before humans became separated from immortality.”

  “What?” That was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. Artest looked at her, and she maintained her straight face until she was sure he was struggling with a way to respond.

  Finally her face cracked into a smile, and then she laughed so hard he was afraid they were going to hit something.

  “I’m sorry, Artest. I couldn’t resist. Please, no more questions about me. I can’t answer them, and you really don’t want to know. As our people would say, he who asks questions cannot avoid the answers.”

  Our people?

  “Leeana, did you not tell me you’re not Dogon?”

  “Let me figure out what you’re asking—with all those negatives, I don’t know. Why are you so formal, Artest? You’ve been here for years.”

  “Did you say you’re not a Dogon?” He knew it wasn’t necessary to shout, but he hated being toyed with.

  “No, I said I’m not a Dogon-Hunter—–and I’m not—but I’m Dogon to the bone!”

  “How is that possible?”

  “How much do you hate it when your bloodline is questioned because of something as silly as the color of your skin? This body works for this assignment.”

  He nodded; she was right. If a quarter of the Dogon-Hunters in the world currently wore black skin, it was a higher figure than he knew.

  Leeana pulled into a parking spot. “Parking is such a premium on this campus,” she said as she straightened the car. “I’m always thankful for this space. Although bold students will often illegally make use of it.” She didn’t tell him that with a blink of her eye, she would leave them a surprise upon their return.

  He nodded. She could talk about parking if she wanted, but his mind was on her—–who was she? How did she fit into the grand plan—if there was one? He smiled. Grand plan indeed. Crap shoot made more sense.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Ian turned out to be a lot of fun. Jordan thought he seemed like the younger brother of a dear friend, maybe in town for the day or visiting his sister on campus. And, because his sister was a dear friend, she was keeping him company while sis was in class. That was how she decided to think so she wouldn’t focus on Ian, the man candy.

  He was as easy on the eyes as they all were; tall like Artest, but not as tall as Fox. Darker like Tyler, but somewhere between Tyler and Artest on the brown spectrum. His black hair was straight and pulled back in a single thick braid that was harnessed at the nape of his neck. Like the rest of the Hunters, his features fit his face perfectly, arranged for maximum attractiveness without being feminine, freakish, or too similar to his brethren. He looked like a light-skinned Ethiopian, a little bit black African, but as much Italian.

  Like the rest of the Dogon-Hunter men she’d met, Ian wore a single color from his shirt to his socks and shoes. The blue he wore wasn’t navy but was nearly as dark, and it surprised her that he’d been able to find shoes in such an uncommon color. His eyes were a very light brown with yellow flecks—strange eyes, just like the rest of the Hunters’, but not frightening like Fox’s. His shirt seemed to be strained almost to splitting from his hard upper torso muscles.

  He was new to the area. He told her that almost immediately. “Where are you from?” she asked.

  “Mali, originally,” he said with a sheepish grin.

  Somehow he knew. She doubted if she would ever get used to all these different types calling themselves Africans.

  “I mean most recently.”

  “I’ve been in South America for the past one hundred and fifty odd years.”

  “So you speak Spanish?”

  “I do, but my Portuguese is better.”

  “So you were in Brazil?”

  “Cha-ching. Will you marry me?” he said, laughing.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I promised myself that I would marry the first American woman who was able to crack that mind-boggling riddle.”

  He had the silliest laugh for an adult man. She thought it was probably impossible to hear it and not at least smile.

  “Come on, Ian, we’re not that bad.”

  “Not bad at all, but dumb as hell.”

  “Who’s dumb as hell?” Tyler asked, putting down a plate of sandwiches and joining them.

  “He’s making fun of my countrywomen.”

  “Trust me, dude, it’s not just the women,” Tyler said.

  They spent the next twenty minutes making fun of all the not-too-intelligent things they’d heard from the mouths of Americans, mostly President Bush.

  “How’s Jahia?” Ian asked when they grew tired of the subject.

  “Still pissed, but she’ll be okay. She and Roberta are good friends.”

  “Is it a jealousy thing?” he asked.

  Tyler paused and thought about it before he answered, which surprised her. “No, she knows she has no reason to be jealous of Roberta or anybody else.”

  “She is hot,” Ian said.

  “Who? Roberta or Jahia?” Tyler asked. His expression wasn’t readable.

  Then Ian stopped and thought. “Both of them! No, Jahia hasn’t got anything to worry about there!”

  “I know you don’t know me so well, but I’m not comfortable with conversation about my wife’s hot factor.”

  “Got it! So what’s the problem?”

  “She worries about me, and she figures that since Artest and I are close, he won’t let anything happen to me.”

  “We’ve all pledged to that.”

  “Have you?” Jordan asked, finally hearing something that interested her. “What else have you pledged to do?”

  “That’s confidential,” Tyler said

  “What difference does it make? She has to be washed anyway.”

  “That’s true, Tyler—this time next week I won’t remember any of this.”

  She saw Ian turn his head the same way Artest did when he was listening to an inner voice.

  “You’re one fascinating woman, Jordan Greene,” Ian said.

  “I am, but what made you say so?”

  “I’m a serious flirt. It comes from living among those romantic Latin men for so long.”

  “Yeah, right.” She looked at Tyler and let him know she knew he’d said something. “If you can’t talk about that, can you tell me how you became Hunters?”

  “It’s a training process,” they said in unison.

  “Were you sent to some kind of school? And even if you were trai
ned, how would that make a normal human being into some kind of super being? What kind of school teaches that?”

  “A Dogon Hunter’s school,” Tyler said. “I’m not trying to be glib—it really is taught, most of it. Once it’s established that your family has the Traveler’s bloodline.”

  She got a sandwich and took a bite. “This is really good. What is it?”

  Tyler reached for his own sandwich and took a bite before answering. “This is my wife’s famous chicken salad.”

  “I can taste the chicken, but I don’t recognize anything else, at least not anything that ends up in my chicken salad. This is wonderful.” She didn’t really want to talk about the sandwich, although it was delicious. When she was a young girl, she learned she could ask Mama May a few unrelated questions before going back to a subject she didn’t want to discuss. Usually she was more approachable during the second round.

  Tyler smiled. “Be sure to tell her. It’s one of her signature dishes.”

  “I will. Both of you have been wonderful hosts. I thank you both. How do you get the gifts that aren’t taught?” she asked. Her question was directed toward Ian, but she didn’t care who answered.

  Both men laughed. “There is a training process for the gifts too,” Ian said. “But that would fall under the category of that stuff of which we cannot speak.”

  “Ask Fox—he’s been known to speak of it.”

  Both men laughed again.

  “What’s so damn funny?” They were pissing her off.

  Tyler’s face immediately took on a contrite expression. “Jordan, we meant no harm. No disrespect.”

  “By all means, don’t tell Artest I did anything disrespectful. I’m having a hard enough time getting him to trust me,” Ian revealed

  She realized then that they must have heard her formulating her plan to back them into a conversation about their training. Sorry guys, she said mentally. “I’ll leave it alone,” she said aloud.

  Jahia returned wearing different clothes. She was dressed in black spandex pants and a tight black shell. Jordan was impressed with Jahia’s body. From where Jordan sat, Jahia could have been a tall teenage girl approaching them with a refilled pitcher of lemonade and a roll of paper cups.

  “Sorry it took so long to get out here with this,” she said, placing the pitcher on her patio table.

  “Your presence was missed; the beverage was not,” Ian said.

  Tyler gave him a look. Jahia smiled as she had when Fox had charmed her. She sat down next to her husband.

  “You look like you’re dressed for battle,” Tyler told her.

  “It would appear that way, would it not?” she replied with a glint in her eye.

  Her response made him look at her mouth. Her accent had changed—it was more British. Even the answering with a question was a British inflection.

  “What do you think of that cloud over there?” Tyler asked his wife.

  “What kind of craziness is that you’re asking me?” Jahia said.

  Tyler stood. “Oh no, I thought there was something familiar about your choice of clothes, but now I’m sure—you’re speaking with a British accent. You-are-not-going-out-Jahia!

  “Try to stop me, old man.” Her voice could have been that of the Queen of England.

  Ian and Jordan exchanged glances. She gave him a questioning look, but he shrugged his shoulders.

  The Pale Fox appeared. “No, Jahia. Don’t even think about it!”

  “And I repeat to you, try to stop me, old man!”

  Fox’s body snapped back as if he’d been struck. Ian’s eyes got as big as saucers. Jordan still wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

  “Tyler, reel in your woman. I don’t have time for this foolishness.”

  Tyler looked from Fox to Jahia and back again. Jordan had never before seen such terror.

  “Reel me in, Fox?” She moved toward him. He backed up instinctively. “Reel me in!” she shouted at him.

  He threw up both his hands as stop signs. Jahia froze in her tracks. “Okay, Jahia, bad choice of words. I apologize.” He slowly lowered one hand, and she was able to move everything except her feet. “We can talk about this, can’t we?”

  Jahia glared at him. Clearly she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t. Fox lowered his other arm, and she moved her head as if cracking her neck. “Yes, Ogo, we can talk. We’ve always been able to talk, but when the conversation is over, I’m either going out with my husband, he’s not going out, or I’ll be dead. The choice is, as ever, yours.” She spoke those words with her thick African accent.

  “Don’t threaten me, teacher.” His whisper was a little louder, almost normal.

  Jordan saw something in her eyes—a spark of remembrance?

  “Yes, I-am-the-teacher. And I’m saying now to all my students that it might be a good time for retirement. A good time for change. If I live to see another day or two, maybe I’ll change my mind!”

  Jordan noticed that Tyler and Ian’s’ faces softened in ways that made her think they wanted to smile. She was beginning to understand what was happening, but she still wasn’t quite clear as to the level of seriousness in what she was hearing.

  “That kind of mass exodus would leave us vulnerable,” Fox said.

  “But it is our choice when we decide to leave, is it not?” The British accent was back.

  “No matter how foolish, your will is still free.”

  “My will is to go out with my husband.”

  “Fine, go out with him! But you should realize how much you dishonor him by underestimating his ability to take care of himself.”

  “No, I’m honored that she cares so much,” Tyler said. “If anybody wants to badger me about that, I can handle it.”

  Fox looked at both of them and scowled before he disappeared.

  Ian said, “Wow, I’m going to start hanging out here more often. I can’t believe you just won in a test of will against the Pale Fox.”

  “Nonsense, child, he told me how to win when he called me teacher. He practically gave me the words to use. As a god, he saw how it would end.”

  Tyler nodded as Jahia spoke. Ian’s expression was one of incredulousness. “I don’t understand,” he finally said.

  “I believe I know,” Jordan said, surprising them all. “It’s not Fox’s idea that you go out, and he could have stopped you if he’d wanted, but he’s on record now that it wasn’t his choice. And now nobody can blame him if things go wrong.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is he saying it won’t go well?” Ian asked. “Doesn’t he see these things in advance?

  Jahia shrugged. “Maybe, who knows?”

  She didn’t seem worried by the prospect.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Why are we here?” Artest asked Leeana when he noticed that they were entering a building marked College of Arts and Letters.

  “I’m an administrative analyst in the office of the Dean. A lot of interesting stuff runs across my desk.”

  “And by interesting you mean?”

  “I mean that there is a fraternity that has been banned from campus for hazing.”

  “Okay?”

  “And their house went up for sale.”

  “Bad market for that,.” he said.

  “No, not really. They got their price immediately. Actually, that’s what made me look into it. My condo has been on the market for five months.”

  “I’m sorry about that, but I can’t imagine what it has to do with. . .”

  “I recognized the last name of the man who bought the house as one that the Sangsue use.”

  “Umm.”

  “Yeah, it’s an awfully big house, Artest, and as far as I know, they’re not planning to start a fraternity.”

  The university was on a break, and there were very few people around. He noticed Leeana spoke, by name, to the few they passed. They came to an office door, and she looked around before getting a single key from her jacket pocket and opening the door.

&n
bsp; “I’m guessing this is not your office?”

  “No, it’s Roger Grant’s office.”

  “He’s the guy who emailed Jordan?”

  “He’s the guy whose computer emailed Jordan.”

  It was a typical professor’s small office. There were two desks, and both held a desktop computer. She sat in his office chair and turned on the monitor. He was surprised to see a Netscape account already queued up and waiting for a password. He watched her typing something.