Regan smiled. “Can you read these thoughts?"
Peter stared at her for a minute. “No, and I think I am glad that I cannot."
"Then lesson number one is complete. Shall I call Kelsey?"
"No, I will tell her and then make sure you are not disturbed."
* * * *
Regan and Kelsey sat face to face on the floor of the tent, legs crossed Indian style, their position of choice for shared confidences for as long as either could remember. Regan took the pendant from her neck. “I believe this is yours."
Kelsey smiled, then leaned forward so Regan could place the gold chain over her head. “Thanks. I've felt naked without it."
Regan flicked a blade of dried grass from her sister's braid. “I can't get over you and that long hair."
The expression on Kelsey's face changed from happy to pensive. “A lot of things have changed in seven years."
"Tell me."
Kelsey shook her head and smiled. “Tell you? Where do I begin?"
"Try starting at the photo shoot in Africa."
"The photo shoot. It was Big Pearl's idea..."
"I went to the airport to pick you up and you weren't there.” Regan cut in.
"I know, I..."
Regan grabbed her sister's arm. “Kelsey, I was so scared. I looked everywhere for you. No one knew what had happened. You walked into the jungle and never came back."
Kelsey winced. “I couldn't come back. I..."
"The police gave up on you. I hired private investigators. Jack said I was crazy, that you were playing one of your silly games. He thought you'd show up when you were ready, but I knew something was wrong."
Kelsey grabbed the gripping hand. “Hey, not so hard."
Regan took a deep breath, released Kelsey's arm and sat back. “Sorry."
"Good ol’ Jack. So what happened between you and him?” Kelsey said.
Regan grimaced. “You were right. The first year I thought it was cute, how he never wanted me out of his sight. By the second year I'd lost contact with everyone. Even Lisa and Frank..."
"Lisa too? You two were always joined at the hip."
"Very funny,” Regan said. “You want me to vise-grip your arm again?” Kelsey threw up her arms in mock horror. Regan grinned, then continued. “The night we celebrated our fifth anniversary I knew I wanted out. All we did was fight..."
"Did you fight about me?"
Regan hesitated. “Yes, but you weren't the reason I divorced him. He hit me."
"Hit you?” Kelsey's face flushed. “The son-of-a-bitch. He'd better be glad I wasn't around. I'd have gelded the bastard.” She took a deep breath. “So he just let you have a divorce?"
"No, he fought it. Even threatened me, said I'd never be free of him, but I told him I'd press charges and have him thrown in jail, if he didn't..."
"And we know what happens to pretty boys like him in jail.” Kelsey smiled at her thoughts. “Are you free of him?"
Regan's lips twisted wryly. “He still calls once in awhile."
Kelsey frowned. “What about a restraining order?"
Regan grimaced. “I got one. Half the time he ignores it. One good thing about being here, I don't have to put up with his bullshit."
"I'm sorry. I wish I'd been wrong."
Regan shrugged. “It's over. Now, tell me how a photo-journalist becomes a commander in Daradawn? How did you get here?"
"The same way you did. Through a rift, only mine was in a cave.” Kelsey shifted on the floor. “It was a week after I said good-bye to you..."
Regan grabbed her sister's hand. “Wait, no offense, but you're a lousy story teller. I have a better way if you're game."
Kelsey pulled her hand from Regan's. “I don't think this story will bore you."
"I'm sure it wasn't boring when it occurred, but now?"
"Rae, you're already doing it."
Regan drew back slightly. “Doing what?"
"Trying to take over. Do you want to know what happened or not?"
"Of course I do."
Kelsey leaned forward and smiled. “Then I guess you'll just have to listen to my fumbling attempt at story telling."
Regan shook her head. “There's another way."
"What other way?” Kelsey said, lifting her thumb to her mouth and chewing at her fingernail.
Uh-oh, Regan thought, she's getting pissed at me. Her nail biting is a sure giveaway. “Mind-linking. Then all you have to do is remember."
Kelsey stared at her for a long moment, then let her hand drop back into her lap. “No way,” she said with an abrupt shake of her head.
"We did it before."
"And we both ended up naked."
Regan smiled. “Will you try? I double-dog dare you."
"Rae, we're not children anymore."
Regan looked a challenge at her.
"Oh, what the hell,” Kelsey said. “I never could turn down a dare."
"Yeah, I know,” Regan grinned as she dodged Kelsey's fist. “Just give me your hand and look into my eyes."
She grasped Kelsey's hand and captured her sister's gaze, feeling warmth build in her stomach. Then Kelsey gasped, and Regan was inside her sister's mind. “Okay, now just remember."
* * * *
Kelsey closed her eyes ... and they were on an airplane. Kelsey watched the seat belt light flash on. It had been a long boring flight, but it was almost over. The plane circled one last time and headed down. Watching the landing strip approach, she smiled wryly. This was her first trip to Cape Town, South Africa, but it could have been Los Angeles, California or Dallas, Texas.
Kelsey exited the boarding ramp and her amused irony doubled. On viewing the airstrip, her hopes for the exotic had dimmed, but she had at least hoped for one or two brightly clad natives, and maybe a tanned “bwana” with sun-bleached hair. Instead she faced an ocean of Caucasians in three-piece suits. So much for Tarzan movies. There were just three people ahead of her in the customs line and soon a bored official was stamping her passport and asking all the usual questions.
"How long will your stay with us be?” she asked, and Kelsey could tell the woman really didn't care about her answer.
"Two weeks at the most."
"Is it business or pleasure that brings you to Cape Town?"
"Both, I hope,” Kelsey said, then smiled. The wilted woman in the khaki uniform nodded politely, then slammed Kelsey's passport closed and shoved it toward her.
"Thanks,” Kelsey said, but the woman was already looking beyond to the next person. Kelsey picked up her two bags, walked toward a revolving door framed by narrow tinted windows, and stepped out into scorching mid-day heat.
The airport's loading and unloading zone pulsed with life. People scrambled from taxis and limousines. Khaki-dressed porters hustled, whisking bags from overloaded arms.
Before she took two steps, a man jumped from a green-and-white taxi and blocked her way. He wore tan shorts, a black T-shirt, and a San Francisco Giants baseball cap perched back on his head.
"Would the beautiful lady care to see the more colorful side of the city?” he asked with an ingratiating grin.
Do I have dumb tourist tattooed on my forehead, she wondered. “No, I'm being met."
He glanced at her purse and let the crowd push him closer. “But I can show you a side of Cape Town that doesn't exist to much of the world."
Kelsey frowned and tightened the grip on her purse. “I said no."
A black Mercedes pulled to the curb and a young coffee-colored woman in a red sleeveless jumpsuit got out. “Beat it, Sam,” she said. “She's Big Pearl's guest."
The man paled. “Sure, Alayna, I didn't know.” He took two steps backward, then turned and scurried into the crowd.
The woman turned to Kelsey. “Sorry I'm late, Miss Cafferty. I didn't allow enough time for traffic.” She bent and grabbed Kelsey's bags. “Is this all of your luggage?"
Kelsey nodded.
"Big Pearl is waiting for you."
* * * *
Kelsey turned toward the car—and suddenly was in a large, airy bedroom. “Where are we now?” Regan's question popped into Kelsey's thoughts.
"Big Pearl's place."
"So what then?"
Kelsey pushed a rocker with her foot and started it rocking. Closing her eyes, she ran her hands along the curved arms. It was just like the one Nana had when she and Regan were kids. She could almost smell Nana's violet sachet. She opened her eyes and glanced down at the chair's cushion, but this chair had pillows emblazoned with bird of paradise blossoms. A wild mass of the same flowers sat across from her in a shiny black vase that looked like something from the Ming dynasty. A ceiling fan turned lazily overhead stirring the hot air.
Whistling tunelessly, she ran a polishing cloth over the telephoto lens in her lap, then carefully placed it in its black velvet bag. She stood and walked to a set of large windows that opened onto a balcony. The balcony overlooked a small flower garden three stories below. The garden was in full bloom. Blossoms of every hue fought for space in the small square. Their heady fragrance rose to where she leaned over the wrought-iron rail, and she inhaled deeply. With a small smile she turned and walked back into the bedroom.
Mosquito netting shrouded a huge bed in the center of the room and woven reed mats were pale islands scattered across an ocean of polished wood floor. A staccato knock sounded on the door.
"Come in,” she called.
Alayna opened the door and entered. She wore a different jumpsuit, this one blue. “Pearl will see you now."
Kelsey followed Alayna down a softly lit hall lined with French impressionist paintings. Small square lights highlighted each painting. She recognized Monets, Renoirs, and one Picasso. They stopped at an open elevator. Alayna waved her in, then followed and pulled a scrolled, wrought iron door closed behind them. She thumbed a button and they descended silently.
On the first floor Alayna stepped out and motioned for Kelsey to follow. They walked down a long hallway and stopped at a wooden door carved with vines and parrots. “Please enter. Pearl waits."
The room Kelsey entered was huge and filled, wall to wall, with books. A large partner desk was a mahogany island in the room's center. A Turkish carpet runner in swirls of red and gold stretched to the claw feet of the desk.
Behind the desk sat a man. He looked up as she entered, and white teeth flashed in an ebony face. Pushing back from the desk, he stood and hurried toward her, his orange caftan swirling about his ankles. Bouncing against his chest was a gold pendant, and in its center rested a huge black pearl.
"Miss Cafferty. I assume you've settled in?"
"Yes, the room is beautiful."
"I'm glad you like it.” He walked to a chair the same mahogany color as the desk, then lovingly lifted a pile of books from its leather seat and placed them carefully on the floor.
"Please sit down. We've much to talk about. Would you like tea or coffee? I know you Americans have a passion for coffee."
Kelsey sat in the chair. “Coffee would be great."
"Black, or with cream and sugar?” he asked.
"Black, please."
Pearl walked to the corner of the room and pulled on a gold tassel suspended from a black sash. A melodious gong sounded. He passed in front of her on his way back to the desk and her gaze lingered on the huge black pearl.
Pearl went to the desk and sat on its corner. He wiggled back until his feet cleared the floor, then began to swing his left leg back and forth like a child. “I see you've noticed my pearl."
"Is it the reason they call you Big Pearl?"
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?” His teeth flashed again. “No, my mother christened me with that oddity of a name. I was to be graced with the gift of vision. Pearls of wisdom would drop from my lips, or so that's what an old witch doctor told her.” Pearl shrugged. “Instead of fighting my name, I used it."
"Just what do you expect from me?"
"I want you to make my jungle, and me, famous.” He paused and stared into her startled face. Pearl laughed. “Yes, my jungle. I plan to turn it into the world's largest game preserve. You will record the progress."
The door opened and Alayna wheeled a tea cart in. “Wonderful. Your coffee is here. Alayna, has Mr. Jones awakened yet?"
"I heard the elevator descend as I entered."
"Good, then we can expect him soon."
"Mr. Jones?” Kelsey asked.
"Sam Jones."
"The author, Samuel Jones?"
"One and the same. He's to write the story to go with your photos.” Pearl looked past her and Alayna, then motioned. “Mr. Jones, do come in. Let me introduce Kelsey Cafferty to you."
Kelsey turned. A tall man stood framed in the door, his shoulders almost brushing the doorjambs. Wire-rim glasses slipped down his beaked nose as he walked forward. “Miss Cafferty, glad to meet you. I'm very fond of your work,” he said. He pushed the glasses back up the bridge of his nose, then stuck out his hand. Kelsey's hand was enveloped, and then crushed. She winced.
"Easy, old man,” Pearl said. “Don't maim the artist's focusing hand."
The man's ears flushed bright red and he dropped her hand. “Sorry, I don't know my own strength."
"That's quite all right. It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Jones."
"Call me Sam."
"Sam, then,” she said. “I've read all of your books. Don't you usually write action adventure?"
"Yes. That's why I'm so excited about this. It will be my first go at non fiction."
"And his crowning glory, if I have anything to say about it,” Pearl added. “But enough. Drink your coffee. We've plans to make and a morning departure."
* * * *
Kelsey blinked, and felt a question from Regan again. “I don't know,” she sent back. “Somewhere very green and very hot."
Big Pearl was gone and she stood in a world of dense greenness. She pulled her hat from her head and swatted the hundredth fly of the morning. Her short blonde hair lay plastered against her scalp, and sweat trickled down her neck. She stared upward along a narrow path, then turned to the young black man at her side. “It's up there?"
John Smith nodded.
"You sure I can't talk you into coming with me, John Smith? By the way, why do they call you John Smith?"
"The Catholic Fathers gave me that name. They couldn't pronounce my Swahili name. And no, I will not go to the cave with you. I told you back at camp that it was dark magic."
Kelsey shifted the camera on her shoulder. “But you'll wait for me here?"
"Yes, but the rest have already left."
"I didn't expect them to stay. They got what they came for."
"You don't have to go up there. The photos of the last five days are plenty,” he said.
"These aren't for Pearl. They're for me."
John Smith sighed. “I will wait for three hours. If you don't return by then I will know the spirits have taken you across."
"Across where?"
"I do not know."
"Yeah, right. Well, wish me luck."
"May the one God go with you."
Kelsey pushed a vine aside and started up the trail.
* * * *
Far below, the jungle spread like a giant green quilt. Behind her a dark hole led into the side of the mountain. Shards of earthenware pottery and bowls, coated with caked-on God knew what, lay before the cave. She sat her camera down and bent closer to a small mound of white sticks. “Bones,” she grimaced. “I suppose that's a warning. This is crazy; of course, I'm not going in there.” As she turned away from the cave, a scream erupted from inside. I know I'm going to regret this, she thought, sprinting into the dark opening.
For the space of two heartbeats she existed in an airless, black nothingness, then she was racing out into bright sunlight and gusting winds. Just ahead of her, the ledge ended. In a panic she looked for something to stop her headlong dash, then grabbed for a vine as she ran out into the emptiness. The cliff rushed by as she droppe
d. Then her downward plunge jerked to a halt and she screamed. Her arms felt like they were being ripped from their sockets.
Outstretched like a deer carcass hung up to bleed, she spun in a slow circle. Wind gusted and she swung face forward into a jagged rock. Sharp pain lanced her cheek and she felt a warm stream trickle. She turned her head and wiped her face against her out-stretched arms. The wind howled again and she spun dizzily. Her grip tightened on the vine and she closed her eyes. Yoga breathing. Remember Yoga breathing. In slowly through the nose, feel the diaphragm fill, then release through the mouth. Relax, absorb the pain, be one with it.
Little by little the pain receded, buried until she had time to deal with it. Blessing her high school boyfriend for getting her into rock climbing, she continued the deep even breathing and searched the mountainside for toeholds.
Finally she heaved herself up and over the cliff's edge, then rolled onto her back. Her arms and shoulders spasmed like saplings in a windstorm. She sucked in large mouthfuls of air, waiting for the shaking to loosen its hold.
When the pain subsided to an occasional twinge, she lifted her hand to the cut on her cheek. The bleeding had stopped, but she felt it pull each time she moved her mouth. She dropped her hand and pushed herself to a sitting position. “What the hell happened?” Her eyes swept the mountainside, but it showed only a smooth rock surface. She stood and walked to the wall of stone. Where was the cave? Kelsey ran her hands across the rock. There was no opening.
A scream cut through the moaning wind. She moved to the far right of the cliff's edge and looked down. About a hundred feet beneath her was a narrow plateau. Lashed to a stunted tree in its center was a man. Fifteen or twenty pale, naked figures danced around him.
As Kelsey watched, a figure shuffled closer to the man and bashed his thigh with a long club. The man's leg buckled and he screamed again. The dancing grew frenzied. The thing—she could tell from its pointy ears it wasn't human—swung its club high overhead and brought it crashing down toward the man's head. The man jerked his head to the side and the club bit into the wood beside his left ear. The dancers leaped and spun in circles, all in marrow-chilling silence.
Kelsey frowned, then squirmed back from the ledge. “Sorry, fella, but I've got my own problems. Just what did you do to get them so pissed?” She rolled her shoulders. They still ached, but the cutting pain was gone. “I could sneak in there easily and have him out in no time,” she reasoned with herself, then shook her head in disgust. “No, I've gotta figure out where I am.” She glanced at the cliff ledge again. “Aw, shit, face it, Kelsey, you're going to be stupid and try to rescue him."
The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series] Page 12
