Tiger's Voyage

by Colleen Houck

  Ren grabbed my hand before I could protest and yanked me through the hall to the stairs and down to the staff deck. Then he stopped and grabbed my shoulders.

  “Kelsey, if you don’t tell him it’s over, I will. I’m going insane watching you fawn all over him.”

  “Alagan Dhiren! Don’t you have any sympathy for him at all? Can’t you understand how hard this is? You think you can just snap your fingers and make the past few months disappear? Well, you can’t. I realize that this situation is uncomfortable. It’s not easy on any of us. I need time to sort through my feelings and decide what to do.”

  “What do you mean decide? You think this is like choosing which shoes to wear? You don’t decide who you love, you just do.”

  “And what if I love you both? Did you ever think of that?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you?”

  “Of course I love both of you.”

  “No, you don’t. It’s not the same, iadala.” He sighed unhappily, turned, and ran a hand through his hair. “Kelsey. You’re driving me crazy. I never should have picked that trigger.”

  “What? What trigger? What are you talking about?”

  Conflicted, he tore his gaze from me, walked over to the staff dining table, and sat down. He put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands and then confessed, “Durga let me pick the trigger. The thing that would happen to help me get my memory back.”

  I pulled out the chair across from him and slowly sat down. “What did you do?”

  “I needed to pick something that would guarantee you were safe. I couldn’t just pick seeing you at the house, for example, or even meeting with Phet. I racked my brain trying to come up with something, and the image of Kishan stealing a kiss from you on the beach kept flashing through my mind. I knew he’d try to do it again, and I figured that if I was around to see him kiss you, and he felt comfortable doing it, that you would likely be out of danger. So the trigger was a kiss. Who knew he would wait so long.”

  My mouth fell open in astonishment. “You bet your memory on Kishan’s kissing me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait a minute. Kishan kissed me before the ship. He kissed me in Shangri-la. Why didn’t it work then?”

  “Because I was still a captive, which was part of the stipulation. I had to be free and see you kiss. Wait a minute—when did he kiss you in Shangri-la, and why is this the first time I’m hearing about it?”

  I waved my hand in the air. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is, you’re an idiot.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re not welcome. You’re an idiot because I made Kishan promise not to kiss me. He promised me he wouldn’t until he knew you and I were over. He didn’t touch me for months because of that promise.” My mouth fell open. “You didn’t trust me.”

  “I didn’t trust him. And just how many kisses are we talking about here? Because if they were anything like the one I saw, I’m going to have the Scarf sew his lips together.”

  “For your information, he stole a couple of kisses in Shangri-la, and kissed me at the pool before we rescued you, which made me cry by the way, and that’s when I made him promise. I waited for you. Even when you got back and didn’t remember me and couldn’t touch me, I waited for you. I didn’t even approach Kishan until you started flaunting bimbos in front of me. I was loyal to you, Ren. I loved you.”

  “You still love me.”

  I groaned. “Why couldn’t you have picked something else for a trigger, like getting home safely or eating my cookies again?”

  “I had no idea he would keep his hands off you. I assumed he’d try kissing you at every opportunity.”

  “He did until I made him promise not to. This is ridiculous. I feel like we’re stuck in a Shakespeare play. He loved her, she loved him, he forgot her, and then she loved the other guy.”

  “So is it a comedy or a tragedy?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “I’m hoping for comedy.” He took my hands in his. “I love you, Kells, and I know that you love me. I feel sorry for Kishan but not sorry enough to let him have you. I’m not going to walk away.”

  I glanced up at his handsome face. “I need time.”

  He sighed unhappily. “Every minute we’re apart feels like a lifetime. I can’t watch you be with him, Kelsey. It tears me apart inside.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Okay, here’s the deal. Give me some space, and I’ll ask the same of Kishan. That will have to be good enough for both of you. We have two more dragons and the Seventh Pagoda to go through, and we really can’t afford any more distractions right now.”

  Ren sat back and studied my face for a moment. “Alright. I’ll tolerate him. As long as he’s hands off.”

  “That means you keep your hands off too.”

  He gave me a hot look. “Fine.” He smiled. “But you’ll miss me.”

  “Did I ever tell you that you have an arrogant streak a mile wide?”

  He got up and walked around to my side of the table, pulled me to my feet, and kissed me softly, a drowning, luxurious, knee-buckling kiss, and then took a step back. “That’s just a little something to remember me by.”

  He left, and I pressed my hand against the wall to steady myself. Holy Hannah, that man is dangerous. I tried to shake off my reaction to him before I headed upstairs, but my rebellious thoughts kept dwelling on Ren.

  When I regained the use of my legs, I sought out Kishan. I finally found him on the sundeck, standing at the bow.

  “There you are.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Kishan?” I touched his shoulder. “Kishan? How did you get out here all by yourself? Did Ren bring you?” He stared straight ahead out over the ocean.

  I shook his arm. “Kishan? Talk to me. Are you okay? What’s going on?”

  He turned his head slowly, eerily, like a zombie from a horror film. His face was devoid of expression. Orange flames burned in his black eyes. “A storm is coming,” he said in a low voice not his own. “I will prepare the way. Go. Warn the others.”

  We both looked ahead at the sea, and I saw the sky had turned gray. Dark clouds were rolling in, and waves were cresting against the boat. A stiff wind blew over my skin. It was cold and smelled like rain.

  “I’ll be right back,” I assured him. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  He didn’t react to my comment. I turned around and ran up the stairs.

  “Ren! Mr. Kadam!” I barreled into the wheelhouse and met Ren’s chest with my face.

  He grabbed my shoulders. “What is it? What happened?”

  Between breaths, I panted, “It’s Kishan. He’s in oracle mode. He’s standing at the bow and saying a storm is coming. I think he’s going to guide us through it.”

  “Alright, you help Nilima. I’ll go check on him.”

  Ren left as Mr. Kadam emerged from the back room. “A storm, is it?”

  I was explaining what had happened to Kishan when Ren returned. “Kishan’s not there. He’s missing. I’m going to sniff him out. Stay here. I mean it.”

  “I get the message. Go find him already.”

  Mr. Kadam moved to the controls and began pushing buttons. I walked to the window. If the sea looked foreboding before, it was worse now. The gray clouds had turned black and were violently pushing and shoving each other back and forth like giant sumo wrestlers smacking and thundering together. Rain fell in fat drops and hit the window with the noise of a thousand drums. The waves pushed the ship back and forth angrily.

  Ren stuck his head into the wheelhouse. Soaked through, rivulets ran from his hair down his neck and into his sopping shirt. “He’s on top of the wheelhouse,” he shouted over the storm. “We need to tie him down! He’s not responding to me, and he won’t hold onto anything!”

  “I’ll get the Scarf! It’s in my room!” I hollered over the noise of the storm and headed toward the door. A wave hit the ship, and I slid on some water right over to Ren.

  “No. I�
�ll get it.” Ren shoved me back inside and disappeared.

  I bit my lip, worried about Kishan. After another wave tilted the ship, I scurried out the door and up the ladder to check on him. The top of the wheelhouse was slick with cold rainwater. Kishan still stood, not holding onto anything. I slid over to him, grabbed him around the waist and locked my other arm around the railing.

  He didn’t look at me or acknowledge me in any way. The ship leaned precariously to the right, and I braced my feet on the metal bar used to tie off ropes and held onto Kishan. His body was stiff and my arms screamed in pain as I kept us both upright. The ship finally straightened, and I was able to rest for a second.

  Just then, I felt Ren’s arm wrap tightly around me and heard a very angry voice in my ear. “I thought I told you to stay put. Why do you always have to do exactly the opposite of what I ask?”

  “He was going to fall off into the ocean!” I shouted back.

  “Better him than you!”

  I rammed my elbow into Ren’s stomach, but he just growled in my ear, and a second later I felt the wispy threads of the Divine Scarf wrap around Kishan and secure him to the railing.

  “There. Now let’s get you back inside.”

  “No!” Rain dripped off my nose, and my bare arms trembled from the cold. “Someone has to watch over him!” I yelled over the torrential rain.

  “Then I will. But let me take you back first.”

  “Can’t you just lash me to the rail like Kishan?” I sneezed loudly and looked up sheepishly from behind wet eyelashes, knowing I was going to lose this battle.

  Ren stared at me furiously and growled, “This is nonnegotiable! You’re going back to the wheelhouse now if I have to carry you in a bag slung over my back! Come on!”

  He took my hand and we climbed down the ladder together, cocooned on the descent. After I entered the wheelhouse, he closed the door, gave me a dark look, and headed back up again.

  The storm gathered speed, and the cresting waves became walls of water. Now I was worried about both my tigers. The storm was violent. Mr. Kadam and Nilima were busy, but there was nothing for me to do except pray that the men above would be safe.

  A sodden Ren appeared at the door a half hour later. He shot me a cursory glance. Satisfied that I was staying put, he said, “We’re to follow the path of the lightning.”

  He left and almost immediately the inky purple view was lit up with twin lightning bolts that shot from just overhead and hit the ocean to our right. Thunder boomed, echoing through the wheelhouse so loudly that I covered my ears. Mr. Kadam veered right, and we started up an immense wave. Seawater splashed the windows and ran off the open decks of the ship. I’d never heard of a cruise ship this size being sunk by a storm and sincerely hoped it was very uncommon.

  Lightning shot out again. This time the crackling bolts veered slightly left. We pressed on following the path the lighting showed us. About every fifteen to twenty minutes it would adjust our path. I stopped looking out the window when they lit up the ocean. The waves were so high and the clouds so dark and violent that it scared me. Not so much for my own life—I felt fairly certain Mr. Kadam knew what he was doing—but I was scared for the men standing in the open overlooking the terrifying storm surrounding us. How helpless it must make them feel, how vulnerable, knowing one slip could snuff out their lives in an instant.

  All that long, dark, terrible day and through the early evening, I sat quietly, whispering prayers that Ren and Kishan would be safe, asking that the storm would calm, that the sun would appear again, and that we would all live on through this horrible tempest. I wondered what those early mariners must have felt like on their small ships, battling storms such as these. Had they made peace with the idea that they would likely be laid to rest in a watery grave? Did they avoid connections to other people knowing they’d probably never see their loved ones again? Or did they just close their eyes and hold on like I was doing?

  The ship began to settle as the rain slackened. “What’s happening? Is it over?” I asked Mr. Kadam.

  He peered out the window, studying the clouds and listening to the wind. “I fear it isn’t. We’re in the eye of the storm.”

  “The eye? You mean we’re in the middle of a tsunami?”

  “No. A tsunami is a large sea wave, usually the result of an underwater volcano. We’re in the eye of a hurricane or a typhoon, depending on exactly where we are. Hurricanes occur in the western north Atlantic, but in the western Pacific or the seas of China, they are called typhoons. Incidentally, the word typhoon originally came from Greece. The word Tuphn represents the father of the winds in Greek mythology and—”

  “Mr. Kadam?”

  “Yes, Miss Kelsey.”

  “Can we discuss typhoons, hurricanes, tropical storms, tornados, tsunamis, and cyclones later?”

  “Of course.”

  The boat started shaking as we cleared the eye and moved back into the thrust of the storm. Mr. Kadam and Nilima were kept busy as the lightning bolts started striking again. Several hours later, the rolling of the ocean lessened, and the rain became lighter and then disappeared altogether. The clouds stopped roiling and moved away, leaving wispy fingers in their wake. I heard a noise just as the door slid open. Ren stood there supporting the limp form of his brother. He stepped through, and both men collapsed onto the floor.

  Nilima helped me drag them into the wheelhouse and began vigorously rubbing Kishan’s head and arms with a towel. She threw one to me so I could dry off Ren. They shivered violently.

  “It’s no use. We’ll have to get them out of their wet clothes.”

  “But they’re too heavy,” Nilima said.

  Ren had wrapped the Scarf around his arm. It hung there dry despite the fact that the rest of his clothes were completely soaked through.

  “Nilima, I have an idea. Scarf, can you remove their wet clothes and replace them with dry ones? Something warm like flannel? And don’t forget warm socks and long sleeves.”

  The Scarf twisted on Ren’s arm and slid up to his sleeve. The threads of his sleeve began to unravel, moving faster and faster as the Scarf absorbed them. In a few seconds his shirt was gone, and the Scarf moved on to his jeans. Nilima giggled at my embarrassed expression, put her arm on my shoulder, and turned the both of us to look at the ocean while the Scarf continued.

  We listened to the soft whisper of moving threads for a few more minutes and then peeked at their feet. Seeing their toes safely encased in wool socks, we turned back to the brothers. The Scarf had created flannel shirts right down to the imitation fabric buttons. I picked up Ren’s cold hand and tried to warm it in mine. Kishan’s hand too felt like ice. I instructed the Scarf to wrap them in warm blankets and asked the Fruit to make hot apple cider, figuring a warm drink plus some sugar would do them good.

  I lifted Ren’s head and slid behind him to help him drink. Nilima did the same with Kishan. Kishan was delirious. He mumbled of prophecies and dragons. Ren was slightly more alert. He sipped the hot cider but kept his eyes closed. His body trembled under the blanket.

  “So cold,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to do.” I started rubbing my hands over his, mentally willing him to warm up, and something happened. My hand symbols glowed, and a warm layer of heat radiated from my palm. There was no lightning bolt, and the heat didn’t burn his skin, but his hand didn’t feel as icy. I focused my energy and thoughts on warming him. I could actually feel the heat penetrate the layers of his skin and drift lower until his muscles became warm too. I moved up his arms and down his legs until his limbs stopped trembling. Unbuttoning his shirt, I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling the heat move layer by layer. I slid my hands down to his muscled belly and back up to his neck.

  What started off as a means to warm him actually became something more. Something intimate. I’d never touched him like this before, and I found that the heat reflected back into my body and warmed me also. I blushed finding Nilima scrutinizing m
y efforts, and I moved from his neck up to his face and pressed my hands against his brow. The heat was so intense his hair began to steam as the water evaporated. Sliding my hands to his cheeks, I held very still and closed my eyes as I concentrated on warming him. I blinked, startled when I felt a caress on my cheek.

  Ren had opened his blue eyes and was watching me with a tender expression. He swept his fingers across my cheek again and trailed them down a strand of hair.

  “How do you feel?” I asked.

  “Like I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he said with lopsided, gentle smile. “What are you doing?”

  “Giving you a deep-body heat massage. Did it hurt? Was it too hot?”

  He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “It hurt in a good way. I wouldn’t have minded it a little hotter, actually.”

  My eyes widened and I tried to subtly send him a nonverbal message to shut up. Puzzled, he peeked under my arm and noticed for the first time we had company. I cleared my throat and said, “If you feel sufficiently recovered, I need to work on Kishan now. Can you sit up?”

  He nodded. I rewarmed his unfinished cider with my hands. “Drink this.”

  He shifted and frowned at the sweats he was now wearing. I teased dryly, “I know it’s not designer, but it’s warm.”

  I moved over to Kishan, who was no longer thrashing in delirium, but he looked blue. He breathed shallowly, and Nilima had been unsuccessful in getting him to drink anything. We traded places, and I began with his limbs. His body was cold, colder even than Ren’s had been. I was able to warm his hands and arms, but by the time I got to his legs, I was out of juice. Ren had been watching my progress silently while sipping his drink. He set the cup aside and knelt next to me. Reaching out a hand, he stroked my shoulder, down my arm, and took my hand in his, rubbing it between his palms.

  “Try again.”

  I summoned the heat and let it trickle out of my palm and into Kishan’s thigh. It soon sputtered again but Ren moved closer and rubbed my back and cupped my shoulders with his palms. Golden warmth surged down my arms and began to warm not only Kishan but also the entire wheelhouse. I heard Nilima gasp behind us. The heat actually became visible like there was a tiny sun hidden under my palm.