Paradise Cursed – Snippet 24
The dining quarters looked remarkably tidy, considering the flaming tablecloths and other debris caused by the Bokor’s manifestation. I owed Demarae’s ladies a free dinner, at the very least, for tidying up. Perhaps they’d enjoy hanging out with our passengers later for Five O’Clock Swizzlers, then stay for one of Cookie’s second-night dinner creations.
Hard to believe this was only our first shore day. Usually, our more exciting events occurred later in the cruise.
I found Erin in the galley making a sandwich for herself and soup for Ayanna.
“She’s well enough to eat?” I asked.
Erin shook her head. “I’m hoping.”
I swiped a pickle slice. “For what I got you into this morning, I apologize. I’d no idea things would get that crazy.”
“Really? You certainly stayed on top of it. While I stood with my mouth open, you slew the dragon.”
“Hmmm, I wouldn’t have a clue how to slay a dragon.”
“But you’re skilled in slaying crocodiles, are you?”
“I’m at least acquainted with the process. Besides, this one vanished with one blow. Never saw that happen before. And if you hadn’t been there, would I even have seen it?”
She frowned at the tray, fingering a packet of crackers, as if uneasy with her thoughts.
“The snake was visible to me only while I was touching you,” I said, “and no one else seemed aware of it. When it changed and became more solid, sending tables and chairs flying in its wake, everyone ran screaming. I don’t know what they saw, exactly, but I’m wondering… how would you explain it?”
“You’re asking me? It’s your ship that seems to be a vortex of supernatural happenings.”
I left that alone. While she probably was correct to some extent, I believed her own psychic energy, along with the Sarah Jane’s, had acted as a magnifier of sorts. Erin, however, might not want to hear that.
“How was our patient doing when you left?” I said.
“Still in that weird trance state. Sometimes she opens her eyes, not to see what’s right in front of her but as if she’s looking at something deep inside or far, far away.”
Erin’s entire face registered such sadness that it made my heart ache. She’d come here to distance herself from guilt over the loss of her parents and her friend’s accident. Now I’d put her in the middle of another guilt trip.
“Ayanna is a strong woman who asked for our help,” I said, struggling to find words that didn’t sound feeble and patronizing. “We’re doing everything possible, and you’re a fine person, Erin, for taking such good care of her.”
Nodding quickly, as if to avoid breaking into tears, she took her tray and left to have lunch in Ayanna’s cabin. I thought about what she’d said while I put together a tray of sandwich makings and fruit for Shaman Demarae and his group. He and Marisha had joined the ladies on the aft deck, where they sat drinking wine coolers in the sun and chattering about the outcome of their healing ceremony.
I set the tray on a table, invited everyone to have a bite, then stood smoking and looking out at the sea. After Demarae finished his sandwich, I suggested we take a stroll and continue the conversation we’d started earlier.
“Tonight,” I said, “we sail for Roatan. How would you feel about joining us? You, Marisha, and your congregants, all who want to come, that is. Your passage in return for helping
Ayanna this morning and introducing us to Shaman Shawnte. You don’t have to be involved further. That is, not unless you want to be involved.”
When he grinned at me, it was so wide I noticed a gold molar shining.
“Captain, you talk a good game, but you will never fill your pockets until you practice better timing. I have been sitting in the sun wondering what it would take to finish out this cruise with you. Are you sure there’s room for all of us?”
“Plenty.” The Sara Jane had cabins for 100 passengers and 26 crew. At last count we were at half that.
He agreed to present the idea then transport everyone back in the launch to pack a bag and return before five o’clock. Sailing to Roatan would take all night unless we picked up a good tail wind.
Feeling rather smug about the deal I’d struck, I decided to look in on Ayanna. Erin was reading to her from Wuthering Heights. Earlier, she and Marisha must have bathed their patient and washed the blood from her hair. She looked peaceful enough, but she still stared with the eerie vacancy Erin had mentioned, which was even more worrisome than her gnarly skin.
I told Erin about inviting Demarae and his group to sail with us and make introductions to an even more powerful shaman at our next stop, Roatan Island. She listened without comment. When I turned to go, she followed me into the passageway.
“I’ve made a decision, too,” she said. “Before Dayna returns, I’m going to pack our things. We’ll take a water taxi to Grand Cayman and fly home from there. I know she’ll hate me for a while, but I can’t stay on this ship any longer. You made a generous offer, Captain. I’m sorry I can’t accept it.”
“Erin…” I couldn’t think of a single word to say next. After the scare we’d had that morning, she had every reason to go and none to stay. Reluctantly, I had to acknowledge it.
“Thank you for helping us. Without you, we would not have seen what Ayanna is fighting.”
She smiled, but with that same tearful sadness I’d seen earlier, and this time I couldn’t resist the desire I felt every time we were alone together. I stroked a strand of hair behind her ear, and when she looked up at me, I placed my lips softly against hers.
“I don’t want you to go,” I murmured. “But I understand why you feel you must.”
My intention was a friendly thank-you-and-goodbye kiss—or that’s the lie I told myself. But then her warm sweet breath fell against my cheek, caressed my neck, and with a cascade of shivers she came into my arms.
*
Standing in line was definitely not Dayna’s favorite thing to do, nor was herding passengers into the water taxis. She’d rather scrub every deck on the ship than hang out with tourists. Not that she didn’t like each of them individually, but together they were so noisy and needy. If she could just get them back aboard the Sarah Jane, every last straggly one of them, then maybe the first mate would allow her to man the sails instead of the galley.
The Sarah Jane. Jeez, she was beautiful, sparkling out there in the afternoon sun, past the harbor-hogging ocean liner whose passengers created most of the noise and confusion.
“Here’s a launch coming, look sharp there,” Jase Graham shouted.
She didn’t trust him, she decided. He was no sailor, no matter how many times he’d been at sea. More of a yachtsman than a true seaman. She could see him on a big fancy yacht, sure, going out occasionally to gather stories to impress his friends at the country club in some landlocked Middle America town. He knew the craft, but Jase Graham had no heart for the art.
Herding her last dozen people toward a launch, Dayna smiled and nodded as if actually listening to their babble about the “cute little shops” and “divine food” they’d found on
Grand Cayman. Just a little longer, then she’d have blue water below and as far as she could see.
*
Watching Erin walk away from me, I wanted to hit something. Wrong impulse, bad timing… the story of my life. Kissing her was worse than witless. It was asinine with an emphasis on ass. She was already horrified and confused, then I had the cheek to sweep her into a moment of passion.
My breath caught as I relived those few seconds… the hungry response of her mouth on mine, her fingers cool against the back of my neck, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts….
I didn’t intend it. She certainly didn’t deserve to be blindsided that way. Neither of us expected it. A frisson of sweet intimacy, perhaps, but not such a degree of intensity.
When else would I have had the chance, though, if not now? Erin was leaving.
Didn’t she realize that running away from her special abilities was no answer?
No, of course she didn’t. She would return home with the same problems that brought her to the Sarah Jane, and not the first to do so.
Yes, acting on my impulse to kiss her was brainless, but I’d do it again. Plenty of women in these many harbors come willing to warm my bed when I take a notion, but none I would risk knowing in a more personal way. Thus the most miserable aspect of my miserable cursed life is loneliness. If only for a sweet moment, Erin Kohl had seemed a risk worth taking. So now I stood in the late afternoon shadows staring at her cabin door and listening to a launch approach with our returning passengers.
Nothing for it now but to focus my attention on the individual who not only needed but also wanted my help. As soon as we set sail tonight, I would corner Shaman Demarae and have a heart-to-heart strategy talk about engaging this “outstanding” witch doctor. Even if Demarae was secretly taking a cut of Shawnte’s fee, no problem, as long as they delivered a cure.
What I wanted most at the moment was to get my hands on one bloody, soul-sucking Bokor and cut off his evil head.
*
“Perhaps it is time,” Demarae said, “to look in on our patient. I will feel much better about contacting Shaman Shawnte if Ayanna has come around and is able to talk with us. Proceeding without her consent is not a good idea.”
Yes, I had to agree, but hadn’t she already consented? Wouldn’t she want us commanding all our resources to help her reclaim possession of her mind and body?
Demarae knocked softly at Ayanna’s cabin door. The shaman’s shoulders drooped, and he looked older than he had before this morning’s ritual.
Marisha opened the door, anxiety written in worry lines around her eyes and mouth.
“Good. You are both here. I didn’t want to leave her to come find you.” She held the door wide so we could enter. “For only a few minutes, I was gone to find ice to melt in her mouth. I am afraid to give her too much water, even though she can swallow small amounts. When I returned… well, look.”
“Dear God.” Demarae took a quick breath. “This is not good.”
He was blocking my view. I stepped around him and a cold hand gripped my heart.
“God was not at work here,” I said.
From just above her breasts, Ayanna was covered by a lightweight sheet, but every inch of visible skin, including her face, was crocodile-rough and mottled in green-brown blotches. The structure of her skull appeared changed, as well, nose and jaw more prominent. Her mottled arms ended in flat, wide hands with curved nails—like claws.
“I wish we could know what goes on in her head,” Marisha said. “She seems so agitated.”
Ayanna’s hands twitched. Her facial muscles tightened and released sporadically, as if she were resisting the need to cry out. Her closed eyes abruptly opened wide. Her gaze darted frantically around the room, but she appeared not to see us standing there.
“What is that on her neck?” Demarae asked.
I pushed closer and drew her hair aside. Within the mottling was a dark patch, and quite clear within that patch, a number. The cold hand around my heart squeezed tight.
“Seventeen,” I murmured.
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