Paradise Cursed, Snippet 27 – and get a Free Book
CHAPTER 23
“Out!” I gripped the redheaded twerp by the shirt collar and attempted to tug her away from the bed. “Everybody out!”
“No!” She grabbed her sister’s arm and entwined it with her own, refusing to budge.
Bollocks! I’d have panic aboard if Ayanna’s condition became known. Visions of the yellow flag for quarantine filled my head—the yellow-black, actually, which had taken its place a hundred years ago. Seeing it aloft, passengers had jumped overboard to get away. If our guests thought we had a disease aboard, an affliction that could turn a healthy young woman into a reptile, their scurry to flee the ship would set a world record.
I let go of Dayna’s shirt collar. What’s done was done, and the girl was so enamored with sailing she would surely keep mum once she understood our situation.
Now that I saw the sisters together, though, I wondered what was up with them. Jase Graham had orders to sail as soon as Burke checked all the staff and passengers against the manifest, and judging by the Sarah Jane‘s mildly increased motion, we were launched.
We weren’t so far at sea, that I couldn’t haul up and call a water taxi to take the sisters ashore, if Erin was still intent on leaving. I’d rather they stay. Aside from any personal desire for Erin’s company, we needed her to help send the Bokor and his bloody curse back where they came from.
“As you can see, ” I said, placing a hand each on the sisters’ shoulders, “despite our best efforts, our patient has taken a traumatic turn.”
Indeed, Ayanna’s agitated spasms had quieted a bit, but her hands and features still twitched periodically as with pain or discomfort.
“What’s wrong with her?” Dayna said again, softly.
For a moment, no one answered.
“A diabolical curse has been placed upon this woman,” Demarae explained. “Sadly, we failed in our attempt to break the Bokor’s hold. Twice, we failed. Now the Bokor has gained even more control.”
Erin knelt beside the bed. Timidly, she took one monstrous claw-like hand into both of hers. Ayanna jerked her head toward Erin. Her eyelids briefly fluttered.
Erin placed her forehead against their paired hands. Her shoulders began to tremble. Hearing a sob, I realized she was crying.
“Erin!” Dayna reached out, but I grasped her arm before she could touch her sister and possibly experience the same pain.
“It’s all right,” I said. “Why don’t we step out. Marisha will take good care of your sister.”
“How can I believe that? You guys aren’t winning any trophies at this curse-breaking business. Do you even know what you’re doing? How do you know whatever Ayanna has won’t infect my sister?”
Ah, precisely the reaction I could expect from every passenger aboard. Instinctively, I looked to Demarae for an answer. His solemn gaze held mine for a moment.
“Two minutes,” he said to Dayna. “No longer. You go ahead, and I will bring Erin.”
I nodded approval and herded Dayna toward the door.
“She was so beautiful,” the girl murmured. “Was that just last night?”
Mentally, I fumbled for the right words. I’m not particularly brilliant with teenagers, not having much opportunity for practice. Young people come every summer to sign up for crew, but those we hire are experienced in being at sea, working sails, and usually somewhat older than the youngster who stood with me in the passageway.
At the moment, she looked twelve years old and frightened. She’d traded her audacious hot-lips t-shirt for the shorts and loose fitting shirt most of the crew wore, yet she wanted to be bold and smart and older than her years. At sixteen, wouldn’t each of us have given our grandest treasure just to be grown up? There’s no true shortcut. We must experience those ghastly years, earn appropriate nicks and scars and learn more from our failures than from any success.
Should I sympathize, give Dayna a pat-pat-you’ll-be-okay and send her off to lick her wounds? Or should—
“How did you rope my sister into this black-magic voodoo crap?” she asked before I could finish my thought.
“She wanted to help,” I said lamely.
“She wanted to go home. She’s been wanting to go home since before we boarded. I’m the one who talked her into staying. Then you asked her to read the cards, and I begged her to say yes, because I wanted to spend the summer learning to sail. It’s all about what you wanted and what I wanted, not at all what Erin wanted.”
All right, then, sixteen going on twenty-five. A crewman passed us sketching a quick salute, then Shaman Demarae came with Erin, and I was saved from further thrashing.
Mascara ran from Erin’s damp, red eyes and streaked down her cheeks. Demarae had a protective arm around her.
“Let’s go up to the main foredeck,” I said. “Passengers will be crowding round the bar, so we should have a bit of privacy.”
The wind had freshened to about twenty knots, north-northeast, and the sky loomed gray and turbulent in that direction. But Dayna’s mood seemed lighter than when we were below. She indeed was a sailor at heart.
Erin frowned at the sails and glanced toward the island, as if startled to see we’d weighed anchor.
Her brow remained knitted for a moment, then she looked at Demarae, straightened her shoulders as if shrugging off a difficult decision to deal with even heavier thoughts.
My own thoughts returned to our primary problem, and as I regarded Erin’s misery I decided that Dayna deserved to know what was happening. The prospect of losing her sister in this battle was not entirely unfeasible. Losing Erin would make Dayna an orphan.
“How bad is she?” I asked, directing my question at Erin but including Demarae in my glance.
The shaman looked at Erin without comment.
“The Bokor has filled Ayanna’s mind with fear and hatred,” Erin said. “She sees him stalking her at every turn, sees his yellow eyes and laughing red mouth, although sometimes the eyes are black or blood red, and sometimes the mouth is all teeth.”
“You could read her mind?” Demarae’s eyes widened in what I took as hopeful astonishment.
Erin shook her head. “I could see what she saw. I felt her fear. If she had any logical thoughts, I couldn’t read them. It was all emotion and visual… assault, that’s the only way I can describe it.”
“You said fear and hatred,’” I prompted.
“Her hatred is for me, at least I felt it was aimed at me, but the vision was a dove. She was grabbing and choking it, then swallowing it whole, but it wasn’t Ayanna, it was the snake. I think it was the snake. Or the Bokor. These visions are—”
“Are not logical, my dear,” Demarae said mildly. “Emotions are not logical, and if you attempt to take them literally, they will only prove more confusing. Also heartbreaking, because you like this woman and you want to help her. Feeling hatred from her is the Bokor’s way of breaking your spirit so that he can find a way in. He wants Ayanna, but I believe he also wants you.”
“Wants her for what?” Dayna said.
I’d forgotten she was listening. She deserved the truth, yes, but not to be scared senseless.
“He wants to steal Erin’s magic,” I said, trying to desensitize it. “Let’s remember that this man, this Bokor, is not on the ship. He’s miles away in Jamaica. It’s only his spell that’s influencing Ayanna’s mind.”
“Not just her mind!” Dayna argued. “She grew snakeskin. And claws! That happened overnight, so how long before she’s no longer human?”
“The mind is more powerful than anyone fully understands,” Demarae said. “In the medical profession is something called a placebo effect. You’ve heard of it?”
“Sure.” Dayna shrugged impatiently. “Doctors give you fake pills and tell you they’re real. Sometimes you get better, but it’s all in your head.”
“Hmmmm, yes, you have the basic idea. A counter-point to that treatment is called the nocebo effect. In one study, volunteers allergic to poison ivy and poison oak were rubbed with a leaf they believed to be toxic. It was visually quite similar to poison ivy but entirely benign. Nevertheless, nearly all the volunteers broke out in a rash where the plant touched them. The Bokor has convinced some part of Ayanna’s mind that she is developing reptilian strengths and abilities, and those beliefs are manifesting outwardly.”
I wondered at Demarae’s wisdom in using this analogy, but Dayna seemed to take it quite well.
“If it’s all in her head,” she posited, “then my sister can look in, find that boker-jerk and kick his ass back to Jamaica.”
“Dayna!” Erin appeared to be holding back a smile. “Your language, please?”
My own laugh busted loose. “I believe she summed it up quite eloquently.”
We were all loosening up with a bit of a chuckle when Jase Graham came fore and summoned Dayna away to help with the crab races. Then I noticed the darkening sky, and for me the atmosphere turned solemn again.
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