A Stirring from Salem

by Sheri Anderson

  “We don’t want any fatalities, and not because we care about you. The animals will have tasted human blood and then have to be killed. Not cool. To us, they’re as important as you are. Now, any questions?”

  Scarlett’s hand shot up. “I have one,” she said with a sultry smile. “Where can we buy powdered rhino horn?”

  Everyone froze as if they’d heard a gunshot.

  “I’m sure I didn’t hear you,” Brendan finally said.

  “Powdered rhino horn,” Scarlett repeated. “Elle Macpherson said she took it, and she still looks amazing. Where can I buy it?”

  “It’s illegal,” Charley snapped at her. “It’s why rhino are being slaughtered for no good reason,” she added passionately. “Do you ever read the news?”

  Scarlett’s back went up. “I read USA Today. Sometimes. Do I have to put up with this twit, Vince?” Scarlett snapped as she scanned the room for the director.

  “I’m in charge at the moment, so yes, Scarlett, you do,” Charley said, not backing down. “Now if Brendan is done, everyone can get ready for the next setup. Brendan, are you done?”

  “I am now,” he said, smiling. “And welcome to Africa, everyone.”

  The group dispersed. Some of the crew gave Charley a wink or a thumbs-up as they headed out, impressed with her fearlessness. Scarlett, however, ignored Charley as she passed her.

  Charley took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry about her and for interrupting like that,” she said to Brendan.

  “You should have been a ranger,” Brendan said with a smile, his deep brown eyes sparkling. “You know how to tame the wild ones.”

  Would that include you? she thought to herself.

  “He’s right. You were great, Charley,” John said, suddenly beside her and pulling her out of her delicious thoughts.

  “Thanks,” was all she could say.

  Brendan looked from John and Marlena back to Charley. “Are these your parents?” he asked.

  Charley was thrown off guard. “Why would you think that?”

  “You look like you could be related,” he said warmly. “A compliment to you all, by the way, but sorry for that presumption.”

  “Thanks, and not a problem,” John said, taking Marlena’s hand.

  “We actually are—related,” Charley added. “It’s a bit—complex.”

  “Okay,” Brendan said, curious. But before they could go further, Brendan’s tracker appeared in the open doorway.

  “Mr. Brendan?” he signaled.

  “We need to get out there if we’re going to get back in time for dinner,” Brendan offered.

  “Maybe we’ll see you then,” John said to Charley.

  “Maybe,” she answered and glanced at Marlena. “Have a good time.”

  “I’ll be there tonight, too,” Brendan said as he smiled that smile at Charley.

  She caught his gaze, returned the smile, and felt a rush of electricity from her toes to her brain.

  Can he see my heart in my throat? She gulped.

  He turned to John and Marlena. “Get ready for a life-changing few hours,” he said as they headed out. “Another couple will be joining us. They’re here several times a year and always take the first game ride they can. They’re a great couple…”

  Charley didn’t move as she saw the three of them climb into the Range Rover where a well-heeled Asian couple waited. As the Rover headed into the lush vegetation, suddenly all Charley wanted was to be with the three of them, and that feeling startled her.

  Why do I feel my life suddenly changing?

  Kayla was in a particularly good mood when she and Steve returned home from the clinic. Not only had they provided much needed care to more than eighty people that day and a baby had been born, but she’d also seen one of her closest friends from home.

  “Joe, Mommy and Daddy are home,” she called out as she and Steve entered.

  There was no answer.

  “Yo, Joe Johnson, we’re here,” Steve reiterated.

  Still, no answer.

  “Hello? Violet?” Kayla said, puzzled as she moved through the living room while Steve headed toward the bedrooms.

  “Joe?” Steve called with a bit of panic in his voice. Steve had worked as a private detective during one incarnation and was always acutely aware of any danger. Hoedspruit was generally safe for the white population, but in the last few years robberies at gunpoint had gotten more common.

  “Hey!” Kayla heard in a loud enough whisper that she jumped. It was Joe, sitting on a child’s chair in the corner near the sliding door that opened to the deck.

  He was in the naughty chair.

  “Uh-oh,” she said as she gave Joe a quizzical look. “Steve, he’s out here.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Joe insisted, defending himself although he hadn’t been accused of anything.

  Kayla knew her rambunctious son and wasn’t so sure. “So Violet put you in the naughty chair because you were a good boy?”

  “Yes,” he smiled, his bright eyes crinkling.

  Steve came from the hallway and saw Joe fidgeting and grinning. “And what did we do now, Sport?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” Joe said, wagging his head slowly from side to side.

  “Where is Violet?” Kayla asked.

  Joe pointed outside, and they could see her sweeping the deck as though she wanted to sweep it away, deck chairs and all.

  Kayla opened the sliding door, and Violet looked up for the first time. Her face was solemn, and she was angry.

  “Violet?” Kayla said as she joined her. “What happened?”

  “He said he saw ‘them,’” Violet said, her eyes blazing.

  “Them?” Steve asked.

  “Them.” It was all Violet would say.

  “The toggle-ishy!” Joe giggled as he jumped up from his seat.

  “Stay!” Steve ordered as he pointed to Joe to sit down.

  “Your papers were all over the floor, and he said ‘they’ threw them there,” Violet said as she pointed inside the house. “He knows not to speak their name.”

  Striding past Kayla and Steve, Violet entered the house.

  They had encountered things like this in the past, not with Violet but with their last housekeeper.

  “The tokoloshi,” Steve said quietly enough that Violet wouldn’t hear.

  “Their fables and mysteries are as real to them as the religions of some Anglos,” Kayla said.

  “Sure your leprechauns aren’t as real as theirs?” Steve joked.

  “Their gnarled little men are whirling devils to them, Steve,” she said admonishingly. “And if anyone mentions they’ve seen one, that brings horrible luck. It’s a curse.”

  That was true in some African cultures. They still held fast to their myths and mysticism and believed evil spirits existed. One of the most dangerous types of spirits, the tokoloshi, was released by even the mention of its name, and now Joe had done that in front of Violet.

  Kayla and Steve could see the usually calm woman gathering her woven satchel and keys. Her hands were shaking badly.

  “He needs to understand it’s nothing to play with,” Kayla said. “Where did he learn about that anyway?”

  “I have no friggin’ idea,” Steve answered.

  The tension was thick as the two entered the living room. Joe couldn’t resist squealing, “Toggle-ishy!”

  “Joe!” Kayla snapped. “Apologize to Violet right now, and never, ever, ever mention that name again, do you hear me?”

  The two-and-a-half-year-old sat stock still and his lip started to quiver.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “Violet?” Kayla said imploringly.

  “It’s something bad, Miss Kayla, very bad,” Violet said.

  “Will you be back tomorrow?” Kayla asked. She knew this kind
of thing could cripple those who believed in the spirits.

  Violet looked around the room as if trying to sense its energy.

  “No, Miss Kayla. No.”

  Steve and Kayla both knew it was hopeless to try and convince her.

  “Let us pay you for this week at least,” Steve offered. He knew the hardships those in her village endured.

  “I’m sorry?” Joe repeated. Even at his young age he knew he was responsible for the tension swirling around them.

  “I know,” Violet answered gently.

  Steve went to his desk, where his papers were now scattered on top, and took a metal box out of the drawer. He counted out three hundred rand, which amounted to less than forty dollars.

  “Be safe,” Violet told them as she headed out the door.

  As she exited, Steve walked over and took Kayla in his arms.

  “Maybe the bad luck we’re getting from this whole tokoloshi thing is losing her,” Steve offered, trying to comfort his wife.

  “I hope so,” Kayla said, trying to be optimistic. “It is so hard to find someone as capable as her. Maybe in time she’ll come back.”

  “Can I get up now?” Joe asked as his parents still stared at the closed door.

  “Come on, sweet boy,” Kayla said, jolted back to reality. “Let’s have some dinner and get you to bed.”

  “It was the toggle-ishy,” Joe insisted.

  “Joe!” Kayla admonished as she led him into the kitchen.

  Steve put the metal box back in the drawer and began straightening the disheveled papers. It had been a long day, and coming home to Joe acting up didn’t make him happy. But he came across a beautiful photo Christmas card from their daughter, Stephanie, who was still back in Salem. She was in front of the family’s Brady Pub, smiling from ear to ear.

  It read, “Merry Christmas. I love you, Mom and Pops. When are you coming home?”

  Steve’s hand went to his chest. “I love you, too, baby, but we’re here for a while longer.”

  Then he noticed, amid the pile, his and Kayla’s bank statement.

  He opened it, and that smile from reading Stephanie’s card vanished.

  Kayla’s last two salary checks bounced? he said to himself.

  “Sweetie,” he heard as Kayla came from the kitchen. “Dinner’ll be in just a few.”

  He was jolted back to reality. “Thanks,” he answered.

  “Are you all right?” Kayla asked.

  “Absolutely,” he said as he slipped the letter into the drawer. “Just emotional over Steph’s card.”

  Now I’m lying to my wife. Holy tokoloshi.

  “But I’m not really hungry this early. You mind if I head over to Ambri for a quick one? They just reopened after the holiday…”

  “You don’t have to explain,” Kayla answered. “See the guys, and I’ll have Joe down by the time you get back. Then we can spend some together time.”

  Steve pulled her into his arms and gave her a tender kiss. “How do you get sweeter every day, Sweetness?” he asked, brushing her hair behind her ear.

  “Knowing that you’re always here to protect us makes every day better.” She smiled with the smile that always melted his heart.

  ***

  Bill and Cornelius were at the bar when Patch entered. Ambri Africa’s Bush Pub was one of their local hangouts. It bordered one of the game farms, so it was a great place to drink in the ambience of Africa. And it was a great place to drink, period.

  “Hey,” Patch said as he slid into a wooden chair next to Bill.

  “Hey,” Bill nodded.

  “Can I get you a cold one?” Cornelius asked Patch as he stood. “Just going to get us another round.”

  “Sure,” Patch answered with a sidelong glance at Bill.

  “Two beers aren’t going to send me over the edge,” Bill said pointedly to him as Cornelius headed to the bar.

  The atmosphere was lively, even early in the evening. With a pool table, a big-screen TV, and a pool outside on the deck, the pub was not only popular with the locals but also with the young international volunteers who worked at the camps. A smattering of dialects and languages flowed through the air.

  “So, would you be comfortable approaching John Black?” Patch asked directly.

  “About what?” Bill asked.

  Patch rubbed his fingers and thumb together. “Cash.”

  Bill adamantly shook his head no. “We’ve got until the end of the month, and I’ve already got something in the works.”

  “The banks are not making loans, Bill,” Patch reminded him. “Kayla’s last two checks bounced,” Patch said flatly. “With me volunteering all my time down here, pretty soon we’ll be in big trouble.”

  “What can I say?” Bill sighed.

  “John’s a good guy,” Patch offered.

  “Then get him to loan you some money,” Bill said, ending the conversation abruptly as Cornelius returned with three iced pilsner glasses. “It is all going to work out. We have options.” Raising his glass, he added, “To the future.”

  Cornelius raised his glass and the three men toasted.

  Bill drank his long and slow. As he set the glass down, he frowned slightly and licked his lips several times.

  “Are you sure this isn’t a new brew?” he asked Cornelius.

  “Carling Black Label,” Cornelius assured him. “Same as always.”

  “My taster’s off lately, I guess,” Bill said shaking his head. “Anyone interested in a game?” he asked, pointing to the pool table and changing the subject.

  “One and then I have to head over to Londolani,” Cornelius said. “Have to pick up some malaria tablets and take them to a supermodel, I hear.”

  “Tough job, but someone’s got to do it,” Bill joked. As they stood, he stumbled and had to catch his footing. He didn’t notice as Cornelius and Patch exchanged concerned glances.

  “Later,” Patch simply said.

  “Later,” Bill answered and headed to play.

  Patch watched as Cornelius greeted a few of the locals while Bill racked the billiard balls on the table. When Patch stepped outside the pub, the sun was setting over the Timbavati, and white rhinos and elephants were emerging for their nightly dinner. The darkening sky was aflutter as white-backed vultures circled in the distance, indicating a kill.

  Scarlett was not happy when she returned to her suite with Brigitta and Nikki.

  Though the accommodations were absolutely gorgeous, Scarlett did not like the idea of sharing with two younger models. The fact that the central living area was being used for wardrobe, hair, and makeup didn’t help. Even though the suite was massive and the rooms luxurious and totally private, she did not like it.

  “There have to be other rooms,” she snapped to their Xsoha attendant.

  “I understand we are full, ma’am,” he said, smiling graciously. “Perhaps if you spoke to your girl in charge, she could arrange something.”

  “Who’s that? Charley?” She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Let her sleep in here, and I’ll sleep with Vince? Yeah, that’s going to happen.”

  Nikki and Brigitta exchanged glances.

  “Is there anything I could get for you, ma’am?” he asked pleasantly.

  “Ma’am? Arsenic, maybe,” she said dryly.

  “I don’t believe we have any, ma’am,” he answered, not realizing she was just being her snide self.

  As Scarlett glared at him, Nikki and Brigitta stifled amused laughter.

  “Ashley and the gang’ll be here in an hour,” Nikki offered. “I’m going to catch a few winks until then. And thank you, Uuka, for everything,” she added graciously to the attendant. “We appreciate it.”

  He nodded pleasantly and exited.

  Nikki was beautiful, in her late twenties, and the most accommodating model any of the
top photographers worked with. In the biz, she was considered a gem, and she worked constantly, to Scarlett’s chagrin.

  “I am definitely talking to my agent about this when I get back,” Scarlett spat. “And you should, too,” she told the girls as they went into their room. “I’m just looking out for all of us!”

  As they disappeared, Scarlett could hear Brigitta ask, “Are Charley and Vince Castle sleeping together?”

  “If they are, it’s none of our business,” Nikki could be heard replying faintly. “But don’t listen to anything Scarlett says…you know her reputation.”

  The door closed behind them as Scarlett bristled. “My reputation?”

  With the other girls gone, the room felt even more enormous. By herself now, Scarlett wrapped her arms around her torso and her bravado faded. As she turned, she caught sight of her image in one of the full-length mirrors.

  Turning to the side, Scarlett cupped her breasts in her hands over her clothes and lifted them. When she released them, her breasts dropped to their natural position. She frowned. She then turned to check her tush and tightened her glutes. As soon as she released them, her butt dropped more than she’d expected.

  Slowly, she moved close to the mirror and her hand went to her left eye.

  Crow’s feet? she thought to herself. What next, a turkey neck? I might as well be a bird.

  The sounds of birds fluttering caught her attention. She watched as white-backed vultures soared in the distance. The sky was a deep turquoise now, with the setting sun casting a coral glow over the landscape. She stood mesmerized as the birds began circling not far from the camp.

  After a few moments, she went into her room, closed her door, and shrugged out of the elegant African-print sportswear she’d worn for the first photo setup.

  Naked, she lay on the massive white duvet that covered her king-sized bed. Her cell phone was on the side table. She studied it for what seemed an eternity and then reached for it.

  As she started to dial, she realized it read, “No Service.”

  She put down the phone and ran her hand across the big, empty bed. Then she noticed a landline on the other side table.