Pedro used to rhapsodize about her intoxicating fragrance of passionflower mingled with ripe strawberries. He had inhaled the irresistible fragrance each time his boat docked onto shore, feeling in his core a sweet prelude of the pleasures he would experience inside the castle with his lover.
Without warning, the Silver Goddess poured the remainder of the wine into her throat, nearly choking on it. Angrily, she hauled the wine goblet to the porcelain floor and sneered in satisfaction as it crashed into countless shards. Thoughts of Pedro always had this effect on her. She would never admit to herself how utterly foolish she had been to banish him. So many days she wished she could somehow have him back. But now he roamed among mortals…
Thaddeus dashed into the room with a concerned expression on his face.
“Is everything alright? What was that crashing?”
She gave him a disdainful look. What an imbecile he could be. He followed her eyes to the shattered glass on the floor.
“What was that crashing? Well, let me see. Could it have been the broken glass all over the floor?” The Silver Goddess lashed out at Thaddeus.
“This needs to be cleaned up before someone gets hurt.” Thaddeus advised.
This comment earned him another look of disgust from the Silver Goddess.
“Clean it up? Shall I do it?” She balked, laughing humorlessly. “Go get one of my manservants.”
With a glance of dejection blended with resentment, Thaddeus exited the room, his fists at his sides. He was not her butler, and he despised when she treated him that way. How could his body be so strong, yet his resolve so weak, he wondered in frustration. In the corridor, he saw one of the muscular manservants enter the Goddess’s chamber. An unwelcome twitch of jealousy pulsed on his face, as Thaddeus stood immobile, listening to the exchange between his lover and the manservant.
“Clean up that mess.” The Silver Goddess instructed harshly from her bath.
Reflexively, the manservant stared into the water, trying to discern the Goddess’s lush body parts. This earned him another terse remonstration from her.
“Don’t ogle me! Just clean up and go.”
She knew she could be as rude as her temperament required. Her manservants had drunk the wine years ago and were as fully trapped inside the Immortality Abyss as Thaddeus was.
“Quickly!” She screamed as the hapless manservant scooped up the broken glass with his bare hands, depositing it into a plastic bag as fast as he could without cutting himself.
He didn’t dare look at her again, although from the corner of his eye, he could see that she was toying with him, letting her breasts rise just above the top of the water before concealing them again within a cloud of frothy white bubbles.
Thaddeus craned his neck in the hallway, pressing his ear against the wall. He grimaced as he heard a delicate splash of water. Had the manservant joined her in the bathtub? Could she really be that treacherous?
Thaddeus had always likened the Silver Goddess to an exquisitely carved ice sculpture. The only difference was, she would never melt. Her deep freeze somehow set his entire being bursting into blue flames. He did not love her, but he felt a powerful sense of ownership over her. And he would not let her strip him of his manhood by frolicking with another lover.
In a blind rage, he thrust himself into the room, narrowing his eyes to see the manservant still picking up the tiny pieces and the Silver Goddess bobbing up and down in the water as her breasts bounced provocatively.
“Back so soon?” She asked coolly.
He glared at her, fully aware that she was trying to seduce the manservant, although she probably had no intention of actually bedding him, Thaddeus knew. The Goddess was fond of teasing men into a frenzy and then retreating cruelly. Without a hint of self-consciousness, the Silver Goddess rose from the bathtub and gracefully stepped onto a plush rug. Her skin glistened from slick bath oil, and a few stray bubbles flowed strategically down the length of her torso. In the corner of the room, the manservant fought to stay focused on the task at hand, but still watched the temptress from the periphery of his vision. Thaddeus, meanwhile, looked at her full on, glaring even more ferociously now.
“Don’t get any ideas, lover. I am going to recline on the beach now, and I require solitude. Do not follow me.” She instructed.
She slipped into her satin robe and marched bare foot from the top floor of the castle all the way to the foyer where she sighed heavily as the door swung open, aided by a balmy wind.
The air was fragrant with both brine and sweetness. She inhaled and exhaled rhythmically, content to be with nature once again. Playing games with Thaddeus and the manservants was harmless fun, but this was the essence of joy. She gazed out on the cobalt blue water, darkened by afternoon clouds that had just claimed an enormous slice of sun. Without a hint of seduction, the Silver Goddess let her robe drape around her nude shoulders and fall to the sand. Naked, she sunk onto the soft, pleasantly hot sand, staring up at the sky meditatively.
Why could life not always be so simple? Why did it have to be complicated by painful relationships, forbidden spells, and, most of all, eternity? She let these questions drift out of her mind as she shut her eyes, relishing the feel of the honeysuckle scented breeze caressing her bare skin. In moments, she sank into a different kind of abyss: a quiet, dreamless sleep.
Only in her sleep could she visit the homeland she had abandoned for residence in the Immortality Abyss. Only in slumber could she prance through the colorful streets of Rio de Janeiro, singing the carefree songs of her lost youth and dancing to the rhythm of pure joy.
*****
Herculea tightened the loop on each of her shoelaces and took her usual front row place in the dance class. Her rubber-soled sneakers squeaked conspicuously as she shifted in her spot, already moving her feet in anticipation of the infectious music. The woman next to her gave her a sour look, but Herculea didn’t notice. She was completely in her zone. Latin dancing was the one fitness class per week that she enjoyed completely. People always talk about runner’s high, but Herculea was sure they must mean dancer’s high. Every song oozed into the next, from calypso and merengue to salsa and cumbia.
In the corner of the room, the instructor switched the stereo onto the highest volume. Just the sight of her favorite teacher made Herculea smile. Lisa, a mesmerizing firecracker with glossy black curls and café au lait skin, was also a native of Peru, and Herculea felt comforted in her presence. As the music blasted, the room exploded into action.
As she started to draw circles with her hips during the warm-up song, Herculea was haunted by her conversation with Pedro. His tale of the Silver Goddess had certainly been intriguing, but had it been true? The researcher in Herculea wanted desperately to track down the mythical figure on the Island of Vinova. Did such a place really exist? A combination of fear and excitement overcame her, and she began to shiver, even as beads of sweat trickled down her face from exertion. She would have to consult with Kent. He would advise her wisely.
*****
After dance class, Herculea made a quick stop at home to take a shower before heading over to the university in search of Kent. They had agreed to meet at the airport for their trip to Brazil, but Herculea needed to see him now, and she was certain he would be hard at work in his office.
Sure enough, Kent had his glasses on and was studiously inspecting a file on his computer when Herculea appeared in the doorway. He instantly sensed her presence and looked up.
“Herculea, this is a nice surprise.” He smiled at her while removing his glasses and rubbing his computer-weary eyes.
Herculea thought Kent looked intellectual in his glasses, but she admired the pure blue of his eyes without them. “Hi Kent. It looks like you’re busy. Should I have called?” She asked politely.
“Not at all. I really need a break, actually. Sit down, please.” He pulled out a chair for her.
“Thanks, Kent. You’re always so sweet to me.”
He gave her a quizzi
cal look and inquired, “Is anything on your mind?”
“Actually, yes.” She took a deep breath. She would just ask Kent directly what he might know about this mysterious character. “Have you ever heard of the Silver Goddess?”
“Which goddess?” He asked, puzzled.
“The Silver Goddess. I know this sounds crazy, but…supposedly, legend has it…that she is immortal and lives on the Island of Vinova off the coast of Brazil.”
Herculea regarded him closely, pleased to discern that his expression was serious, though confused. Most people would laugh at what she had just said, but Kent was always respectful.
“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of her or her island. Where did you hear of her?”
Not wanting to tell him about her date with Pedro, she evaded, “Someone told me.”
He didn’t press her further but frowned slightly at her response. “Perhaps it could be some kind of anthropological hoax? Like Big Foot? Or the Loch Ness Monster? There are no shortage of hoaxes in this world, Herculea. And don’t forget about Piltdown Man…” Grinning self-consciously, Kent cut himself off. “Listen to me; I’ve gone straight into lecture mode. Occupational hazard.” He added wryly.
Herculea giggled, knowing that Kent did not mean to be condescending with his lecture, but was simply a natural-born professor who enjoyed sharing ideas and knowledge. Of course, the hoaxes he mentioned had immediately crossed her mind when Pedro wove his yarn about the Silver Goddess. She was far from convinced that such a woman actually existed. But she could not discount the possibility. Pedro had looked her square in the eyes the whole time he was talking about the Silver Goddess. He had been unblinking, unflinching, and very persuasive. The more Herculea replayed the conversation in her head, the more inclined she was to believe Pedro. The man carried with him a strange and inexplicable lure of magic. If anyone would know of a mystical person like the Silver Goddess, it would certainly be Pedro.
“I have reason to believe that the Silver Goddess is not among the great schemes in anthropological history. For one thing, why has no one ever heard of her? People always talk about myths. But a real woman would want to maintain her anonymity and maybe even close off the barriers to her private island. I know if I found a Utopian habitat in the middle of the ocean, I’d want to keep it a secret too!” Herculea reasoned.
But the more she talked about this topic, the darker the vibe she felt. The tale of the Silver Goddess was just like spending an evening with Pedro: exhilarating yet terrifying.
“Very well. Let’s suppose the Silver Goddess is real. Where is this island, precisely?” Kent allowed, even though his scrunched up features betrayed his cynicism.
Herculea repeated the geographical facts that Pedro had given her. “I don’t know exactly. But I’ve heard that the Island of Vinova is very small, like a speck in the sea.” Herculea hesitated before adding the next part. “Her immortality supposedly comes from some sort of wine potion.”
Kent shook his head disbelievingly. “So she is more of a witch than a goddess, it would seem.” He mumbled. “Herculea, you have a Ph.D. from an Ivy League university. Do you really believe such hokus pokus?”
The man couldn’t be blamed for his skepticism. He was right, of course. The only thing that made Herculea believe such a fantastic tale is that it came from Pedro’s lips. If anyone else had spun such a wild story, she would have acted even more dismissively than Kent was behaving. Beyond that, Herculea felt butterflies in the pit of her stomach that compelled her to go to Vinova, yet urged her to stay away. Herculea knew herself too well and was sure that she would not let the case of the Silver Goddess rest. She would track her down, regardless of how crazy Kent or anyone else thought she was.
All of a sudden, she heard herself say, “Do you think you could go to Rio without me? It’s not the assignment I want to pursue right now.”
Kent looked incredulous. “Are you serious? The capoeira trip has been in the works for months, and the dean already arranged our entire itineraries.”
“I know.” She stated in a distant voice. “I’m going to fly into Rio de Janeiro as scheduled, but after that, I’m going to find the Island of Vinova and see if the Silver Goddess really exists. Dean Walker won’t be disappointed if I come back with a story about her. Many social scientists have written about capoeira, but I could be the first person in the world to write about this goddess.”
Herculea spoke each word firmly, and from their years of close acquaintance, Kent knew that she could not be dissuaded. She was massively stubborn when she got an idea in her head, and there was nothing he could say.
“Very well, Herculea. I can’t say I’m happy about this decision.” His brain was reeling with the news she had just broken, but his tone remained calm. Still, he couldn’t resist one further question: “Would you at least let me accompany you? We’re flying into Rio together, so we might as well go on this expedition as two. It would be a lot safer for you.”
Herculea was taken aback. She had never had a man to protect her, and she wasn’t going to start now. She lived for adventures like this, and she did not want to be coddled by an overly concerned friend. As politely as she could, Herculea refused his offer.
“I appreciate your concern for me. But I can handle this situation. I have to get going now. I need to go home and relax.”
Nothing had ever been truer. She was mentally exhausted from puzzling over the case of the Silver Goddess, and she needed to get away from the office and back to her apartment to begin preparations for her upcoming trip. She made a mental note to email Dean Walker and evasively inform him that there had been a change of plans. She did not want to tell anyone else about her prospective project, and she already regretted telling Kent. With her tenured status at the university, not to mention a long list of successful travels behind her, she felt confident that her boss would approve of her independent research, vague though it may be right now.
Half an hour later, inside her apartment, Herculea heaved an enormous sigh of relief. But the relief to be home was fleeting. Troubling questions climbed into her mind. What had she just done? She had cancelled a business trip that had been planned for months with a colleague she had known for years. Even though Kent was too polite to ever admit it, Herculea was certain she had offended him. Had she gone loca all of a sudden? One tango and a dinner with Pedro and she was ready to fly clear across the world to chase a preposterous legend!
Herculea sat down on the sofa and took out her cell phone from her purse.
It was Friday at 7:00 PM. Exactly twenty four hours ago, her date with Pedro was just beginning. The apartment had vibrated with an unidentifiable energy magnified by the haunting Spanish guitar recording. Tonight, there was nothing but a disquieting stillness, leaving Herculea feeling very alone. She mentally scolded herself, knowing she couldn’t expect to hear from Pedro so quickly after the date. For a split second, she was tempted to call Pedro. But Herculea’s natural warrior spirit rose up and demanded that she put the phone down and start to make serious preparations for this trip. This would be no ordinary business trip; it would be an expedition.
Sprinting to her bedroom, Herculea retrieved floral luggage from the walk-in closet. She smirked as she looked at the lavender and rose print painted over the entire duffel bag. Who said women can’t be tough and feminine? Yanking open her dresser drawers, Herculea selected some basic cotton tee-shirts in a rainbow of shades, as well as jeans to protect her legs from insect bites. The ritual of packing took the surreal aspect out of her upcoming trip and filled her with anticipation. Soon, the bag was full and could not hold one more item if it was going to fit overhead as a carry-on.
Satisfied that she had packed all the essentials, Herculea set the luggage aside and went to the kitchen to fix herself a hot cup of orange ginger tea. With a buttered raisin scone on the side. Of course.
Chapter 4
Fidgeting impatiently in her shoebox of a seat, Herculea tried to compose herself. The plane had been grou
nded for nearly an hour at San Francisco International Airport. As the pilot tried to appease the passengers with promises of a momentary takeoff, Herculea groaned, thinking of how her journey had not even begun. First, she had to make a connecting flight at New York’s JFK Airport. Assuming that transition went smoothly, it would be another ten hours of flying before she finally landed in Brazil. Herculea glanced over at the passenger next to her, a lanky older gentleman in a business suit. Poor man. She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing as she observed the tall man’s knees pressed uncomfortably into his chest. It was times like these that Herculea really appreciated her petite stature.
As the plane finally began to taxi towards the runway, Herculea lifted up the flap on her window seat and watched the perpetual Northern California rain pour down. She wondered how Kent was doing. The university’s travel department had not been able to purchase side by side seats for the colleagues, and for that she was grateful. She had endured a curt encounter with Kent at the gate before he boarded the plane to sit in the next to last row. Kent had appeared perturbed with her. Herculea felt a twinge of regret for having bailed out on their assignment, but it was not because she doubted her purpose. No, it was because the long standing friendship between her and Kent seemed to be threatened now, and she did not want to lose him.
The jet became louder as it rapidly picked up speed before ascending into the murky sky. The voices of her fellow passengers were drowned out by the raucous propulsion of the plane, and Herculea found herself alone with her thoughts. Pedro had not contacted her at all since their date. She had tried not to be too dejected, but it had seemed so clear that they were mutually attracted to each other. Their bodies had fit so well together when they danced, and that kiss…oh, that kiss.
Island Tango (Silver Goddess Series, Book One) Page 3