Van had work to do. She leaped to her feet, brushed the beach sand off her butt, and scanned the sinister woods that encroached the island.
Fear twisted her gut.
The woods had the look of whoever entered didn’t leave. And the trees seemed to acknowledge her presence. The long, leafless branches—arms with claws—waving in the windless breeze like fingers beckoning her to come and stay for a while. Or forever.
Van tried to shake the ominous feeling of dread that weakened her resolve by remembering what brought her there in the first place. The Cup of Life.
If anyone survived Scylla’s attack, they would need the Cup’s healing properties. Certainly Daisy and Paley, too, both of their lives hung in the balance, along with all those who were sick with the demon illness.
Van snorted, disgusted with herself for being afraid. Fear—a useless emotion, even for a junior warrior. Jacynthia told her fear was a lack of faith in the Self.
Pfft. I got this.
She needed to keeping moving. She had lots to do. Once she completed this part of her mission, she still needed to find her way to the second seal.
First—the ferryman. She shook away her jitters. Focused on her inner Self, trusted in her own power, and stepped forward.
There was no path through the trees, so Van aimlessly meandered through the woods. She figured the island was small enough for her to stumble across the River Shade.
The temperature dropped, chilling Van to the degree where she could see her breath. Every now and then she passed aged bones partially covered by dirt and protruding from the ground. She told herself they were animal bones, which was still bad, but she needed to divert her anxiety about walking alone through the dark woods on the Island of the Dead.
Chapter 48
Van’s eye caught a small, round, peach-colored object lying on the ground ahead. It stood out among leaves and dirt and seemed out of place in the woods.
Curious, she bent down and picked it up.
Ugh! A baby doll’s head!
It had no eyes and no hair. The body wasn’t anywhere around. The head wasn’t covered with dirt giving Van the impression it had been newly placed there like some nutjob was running around the island decapitating dolls.
She chucked it aside and shivered, wishing she had the Coin to lead her in the right direction.
Now aware someone else was in the woods, Van cautiously moved forward on edge. The sky darkened, making the woods shadowy and even creepier.
Droplets of rain pattered against her head and jacket. She dreaded another downpour. She used her fingertips to wipe the droplets from her eyes and cheeks. When she pulled back her hand, her fingers were smeared with red fluid. It wasn’t rain—it’s blood!
She looked up saw a half-eaten chimpanzee hanging from a tree branch. Entrails dangled downward, dripping with blood. A fresh kill.
Agh! Van sprinted, heart pounding, getting as far away as possible from the chimp’s blood-rain. Whatever did that to the chimp might still be nearby, lurking behind the trees. Probably the same person—or creature—who gets-off decapitating dolls.
She bolted through the woods and stumbled into a clearing, stopping short at the sight before her. A group of people dressed in animal costumes sat in a circle on folding chairs playing poker with tarot cards, using a cut-off tree stump as a table. Or were they animals that looked like people?
The disturbing creatures halted their game, and every one of them turned to stare at Van.
Van gasped. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She twirled around and ran back into the woods the way she came.
Her arm jarred, forcing her to stop—it was tangled in a low hanging vine. She frantically tried to break free but became more entangled. The more she struggled, the more the vine wrapped tighter around her body.
The animal people would be there any minute.
Van gripped the vine and yanked, rushing to untangle herself—except it wasn’t a vine—it’s a hangman’s rope!
Van screeched in horror.
She twisted and tugged at the rope. It coiled around her even tighter.
Van yanked and pulled and turned. She couldn’t stop struggling—she just wanted out.
Finally, she remembered the jackknife Brux had given her. She wriggled to reach into her jacket pocket and pulled it out.
She hacked at the ropes, frantically sawing, finally freeing herself.
Again, she took off, aimlessly dashing through the woods. Branches whipped against her face and snapped her body. She didn’t care.
Van came upon the clearing where the animals had been playing poker, except this time no one was there. Just the stump with the cards and five empty folding chairs. Where are the animal-people?
Van stifled her screech, and instead of going back the way she had come, she dashed across the clearing and into the woods beyond.
From the sky, dim light filtered through the trees making it difficult to see and hard for Van to keep a fast pace.
She smashed into a tree trunk. Her nose and cheek hit a sharp nub on the tree, but it didn’t feel like tree bark. She stepped back, rubbing her stinging face.
The nub wasn’t part of the bark. It’s a human thumb nailed to the tree!
Ugh! Van bolted away in a panic until she became so winded and tired, she stopped to catch her breath. She thought of the thumb. A weird image crossed her mind of a bodiless hitchhiker, thumb out, leading in the direction of her desired destination.
Van decided to go back, and head in the direction pointed out by the bodiless thumb. She soon heard the trickling water and came to a river bed. She knew she had arrived at the River Shade.
She walked closer to the edge and couldn’t see the width of the river due to the fog. Her toe tapped against an aged, rotted piece of wood. She looked closer, noticed carved writing, and picked it up. The inscription was written in Latin, a language in which she was fluent.
In flumine et puellae iacet, mortuus oculos conspiciunt hyacinthino pallio, et aqua fluit sanguine eius ruber est.
“In the river lies a girl, dead violet eyes stare, the water flows red with her blood.”
The inscription gave her the shivers. Angry and tired, Van chucked the morbid carving aside. She was done being frightened. She was the Anchoress. A warrior of the light.
She breathed deeply, ready to face Kharon the ferryman and get on with the mission.
Where is he?
The repetitive swishing of water caused by an oar rolled through the fog, and the ferryman appeared.
A single lantern hung from a pole on the bow, casting a dim light. Kharon stood in the back of the rowboat. Hands, nothing but bones, grasped a single oar. His face, a skull, peeked from the black hooded cloak. All remained silent, except the swoosh, swoosh, swoosh of Kharon’s paddle as he steadily rowed closer to the shore.
He arrived directly in front of Van and extended one of his skeletal hands. Each phalange opened, one by one, exposing his bony palm.
For a second Van stood paralyzed from the shock of coming face to face with Kharon. Terrified and wondering what this personification of death wanted from her, she didn’t dare move. Then Van snapped back to the present and fumbled with her pocket, eager to retrieve the satchel. She walked into the shallow water next to the rowboat and placed the fairy’s tear into Kharon’s palm.
Each of his bony fingers curled closed, the same way as they opened, one at a time. His hand retracted into the wide cuff of his cloak. His skeletal hand reappeared as he extended his arm and pointed a finger to the single bench in the rowboat.
The boat swayed under Van’s weight as she climbed aboard. She gripped the sides of the rowboat to hold steady, but it was unnecessary. The foggy ride across the River Shade was as smooth and unperturbed as Kharon’s demeanor.
In minutes, the rowboat came to a stop at the opposite riverbed. Kharon turned his frightening skull face toward Van. She didn’t need his nod as permission to leave the rowboat. She practically leaped out
the second he turned his hollowed eye-sockets at her.
Van was surprised at the shakiness of her legs. Kharon had unnerved her more than she cared to admit.
In front of her, partially hidden by the fog, she glimpsed a path.
She cautiously followed the winding dirt trail, deeper into the flourishing woods. Unlike the dead, leafless trees she had passed through earlier, the branches were covered with green, leafy vegetation, ferns, vines, and other foliage.
Not sure which way to go, Van stayed on the main path, avoiding the many branching trails.
She passed by a swampy area and heard the splashing of something in distress. She left the path and walked in the direction of the clamor.
At first, Van recoiled seeing a baby alligator tangled in vines, thinking of it as another sea monster. Van considered leaving, but it was a baby and in distress. She couldn’t let the poor animal pay for Scylla and the laocoon’s sins.
She skimmed her way around the edge of the swamp. Her feet sank into the mud up to her ankles as she mumbled baby talk to calm the alligator, despite knowing it would do no good. The closer she got, the more the baby gator frantically tried to escape the vines—and Van.
The alligator’s mouth wasn’t entirely ensnared, it was freed enough to bite. Van paused and again considered turning away. Then decided, since she had come across the baby alligator, it was her responsibility to do something about it.
She bent down, careful to keep away from its snapping snout, and used both her hands to break one of the vines. She did this over and over, having to stop occasionally to avoid teeth biting into her arm. The squirming gator soaked Van with stinky swamp water. Mud permeated her boots down to the skin on her ankles and feet. Finally, she broke the last vine and set the baby alligator free.
It stopped struggling and closed its snapping jaw, but it didn’t leave.
Van could tell it wasn’t injured. She pulled her feet out of the muck and took several steps back, keeping an eye on the gator, wondering what was wrong.
The baby alligator waddled out of the water and onto the muck, coming right up to Van’s feet. She didn’t flinch, eager to know what it wanted.
The gator opened its mouth and uncurled its pink tongue. At the tip lay the Coin of Creation.
Van gasped with joy. The Coin! She swooped down and seized it before the alligator could change its mind.
The gator closed its jaw and shuffled back into the swamp. It disappeared under the murky water.
Van held the Coin between her thumb and forefinger and perused the shiny gold object to make sure it wasn’t a fake.
It wasn’t.
She didn’t even need to study it, she could feel her connection to the Coin vibrating in her blood. She tucked it into her pocket and continued down the path. Then, paused.
Wait a minute. I have the Coin.
The alligator had given Van the Coin for a reason, especially since she thought it had been lost at sea. She took it from her pocket and asked the Coin to show her the best path to the Cup of Life.
Van followed the twisting path taking direction from the Coin until she reached a beautiful blue lagoon.
She wasn’t surprised when a divine voice addressed her.
“Vanessa Cross,” said a woman sitting on a highly decorated throne carved from the cliff surrounding the lagoon. “I’ve been expecting your arrival.”
Her voice carried clearly across the water.
“I am Thalassa, the Water Elemental. The Guardian of the Cup of Life,” she said in a not-so-friendly tone. “I heard you coming from miles away, smashing through my habitat like a clumsy oaf. Intruding into my peaceful state of meditation.”
The Elemental rose from her seat and stepped onto the multi-colored pebbles that had washed ashore by her feet.
Thalassa peered at Van with pursed lips. “I assume you are ready to die?”
Chapter 49
Van became acutely aware that she wouldn’t get along with this high and mighty Water Elemental.
“You’re wrong.” Van strode along the shore, getting closer to Thalassa, half-expecting a monster to leap out of the lagoon. “I’m not going anywhere.” She had a lot to do and a lot to live for. She resented Thalassa for even suggesting it was her time to die.
The Elemental observed Van, unmoving, except for her shoulder-length, dirty-blond hair that undulated as if she were underwater. Thalassa’s gold crown seemed to be set ‘just so,’ and her silky robes of silver had elaborate detailing of actual coral on the trim.
“If you wish to retrieve the Cup, you must pass my test,” Thalassa said in a way that made it sound impossible.
The Elemental had sharp facial features and overlarge sea-blue eyes with hardly any sclera that didn’t seem to blink. She possessed beauty—but in a nontraditional fashion.
Thalassa stood in front of her remarkable throne. Detailed images of fish and sea nymphs had been sculpted into the chair and a large scallop shell into the head; the throne’s arms ended in conch shells. On the cliff surrounding the lagoon, hundreds of colorful wooden masks were neatly hung, all different in shape, size, and design.
The whole scene gave Van the impression that this Elemental was finicky and difficult. Nothing like Lady Loka, the Guardian of the Coin, who was warm and friendly by comparison.
The Elemental extended one arm, palm up. An archway appeared in the side of the cliff. Thalassa stood silently as she waited for Van to catch-on and walk through it.
Van inwardly readied herself for the Elemental’s test and stepped through the archway. The stone rumbled as the arch closed behind her.
The cavern she entered took her breath away in its magnificence. The cliff—or walls of the cavern—were dotted with six-petaled lotus flowers, some white, others light blue, and some were a mixture of both. A handful of thin waterfalls cascaded onto the rocks. However, in the collection pond, she witnessed an odd site.
A bunch of naked children played—splashing each other, giggling, climbing on the low lying rocks, swimming. None of them seemed to notice Van’s arrival.
Van didn’t know what to do. Is a monster going to eat the children? She mentally prepared herself for battle, to protect these children, who, quite frankly, she found creepy.
A boy about six years old appeared in front of Van. “You’re creepy.”
She hadn’t seen him until he spoke, yet he stood directly in front of her.
The boy giggled and then rushed back into the pond with the other children.
Van scanned her surroundings. She was enclosed by solid rock, trapped in another funhouse, this time filled with weird children.
“You’re a weird adult,” said a girl about the age of seven. Who, again, appeared near Van. The girl didn’t laugh or run back to the pond like the boy had. She stared at Van, unblinking.
The girl unnerved her. Why won’t she leave?
Van stomped her foot, hoping to scare the girl away. “Shoo!”
The girl lurched forward in exactly the same way as Van and said, “Shoo!”
Confused, and a bit frightened, Van took a few steps backward.
At the same time, the girl mimicked Van, also taking a few steps back.
Van quizzically stared at the child.
The girl raised her fingers to her mouth, coyly covering her giggle, and then darted back to join the other children playing in the collection pond.
Van noticed that all the kids had alabaster skin, blond hair, and blue eyes. Like they were clones of each other, although some were girls, some boys, and they were different ages. But all of them seemed to be made from the same genetic makeup. They gave her the chills.
How is this a test?
Then Van saw it.
A chalice—shining gold with intricate motifs, encrusted with gemstones of amethyst, orange, and red. The stem was made of two entwined, winged Elementals—or, perhaps, angels—whose wings wrapped around the base of the bowl.
The Cup of Life stood on a stone pedestal inside a fissure
in the cliff between two of the waterfalls. To get it, Van had to cross the collection pond and the eerie children.
She stepped closer to the pond. The children continued playing, paying her no mind. Every step she took, the Cup seemed to move farther away.
Van paused.
How can I reach it, if it moves farther away with each step?
A handful of children scuttled out of the pond and dashed over to Van. They extended their palms and asked her to dance with them.
Two of the children each clasped one of her hands. Upbeat flute music filled the cavern, coming from nowhere. The children around her began dancing, the others continued playing in the water. The two holding her hands tugged as they wriggled their bodies in time to the music, encouraging Van to do the same.
Van tried to pull her hands away, her eye firmly on the Cup, but the children insisted she stay and dance. Van complied, figuring it was the only way to get rid of them. She swayed her hips and smiled, using some of the moves taught to her by Madame Vang.
“See, I’m dancing,” she said to the children. Now, go away.
Van danced strategically, moving closer to the edge of the pond across from the fissure. In doing so, she found that she was enjoying herself and the smiling, giggling children. Van couldn’t help but get into the music. She grinned and chuckled along with her dance partners.
Nevertheless, out of ingrained determination to complete her mission, her eyes darted to the Cup. She noticed it stayed still.
She picked up the groove and moved to the edge of the pond surprised that her dancing held the Cup stationary.
Out of the corner of her eye, Van glimpsed a girl, about four years old, climbing near one of the waterfalls. The girl jerked and screeched as her ankle jammed between two rocks.
The other children laughed and pointed at her, some splashed the girl. Van’s dancing children plunged back into the pond and gleefully joined in on the bullying.
Tears streaked down the little girl’s cheeks. “C-cut it out!” She choked and coughed on the water the other children splashed on her.
Plague of Death Page 37