by Kailin Gow
“Isn't it beautiful?” Varun turned to me. “The most beautiful thing you've ever seen?”
“Yes,” I breathed. It was true. Nowhere in Angel Island was anything like this.
“When I miss her – or when I'm lonely, I come here. To think. To be alone. I've never taken anybody here before. But there's something about you, Mac. It makes me trust you. It makes me feel like I can talk to you. Even about her.”
He slid his arm over my shoulders, pulling me towards him. It was not the brash, stupid flirtation Brandon had tried on me earlier. This was something different. Warmer. Friendlier. I felt, as I leaned into him, as if I were being enveloped within his kindness, his compassion. Surrounded by beauty.
I could feel Varun pulling me closer, and I did not move away. His lips were so soft, so gentle on mine.
As he stepped back, I could see his blue eyes glimmer with happiness.
“I missed you, Mac,” he said softly.
But before I could ask what he meant, he pulled me closer into another kiss – more passionate, more urgent, and then – with his arms around me – I forgot what I was going to say.
Chapter 8
The sun woke me early the next morning, streaming over my face in bright, hot rays. I murmured softly as I emerged from my cocoon of dreams. I had been dreaming of Varun, of how we had kissed until the moonlight emerged above us, how he had offered me his arm like a perfect gentleman and walked me across the lawn to our cottage, how he had kissed me on the forehead as we stood before the door, neither one of us wanting to be the first to say goodbye, before kissing me once more full on the mouth, squeezing my hand before I entered the room. I had gone straight to bed, curling up with my blanket although the night was humid, feeling the cotton caress my skin and imagine that it was Varun's arms holding me tight. Being him was like swimming in a warm spring, I thought – safe, all-encompassing. I didn't want to leave the dream behind. But it was day – a Saturday – and the promise of the whole weekend lay before me like a pearl-hiding oyster. I had homework to finish, sure – but I also had a whole day to explore the island. Last night, over pizza, Brandon had told me how fantastic the island was for nature-lovers. There were hills and mountains, he told me, caves and secret lakes, forests that human beings hadn't even entered for century.
“Maybe I could take you for a hike tomorrow,” he'd asked, in a tone that made it clear he wanted nothing better than to be secluded with me in a hidden cave.
“Maybe some other time,” I'd said. But now the promise of exploration was an attractive one, and although I wasn't sure I wanted Brandon as my tour guide, I definitely wanted to see the island. A good night's sleep had invigorated me, and the memory of Varun's kiss on my lips kept me strong.
But he had said something strange to me last night – what was it? “I've missed you, Mac.” What did it mean? Had he just missed me since that day at school – but that seemed like a strange thing for anyone to say. And I certainly hadn't been to Aeros Island before. Perhaps I'd misheard him – perhaps he was talking about kissing me, not missing me. After all, I was so intoxicated by his presence, by the kiss, by the sheer beauty of the island, that I could very easily have gotten mixed up.
Still, there was something strange about Varun, as there was about Chance. Evidently the Cutter family had plenty of mysteries still to be discovered.
The note on the refrigerator made it clear that I was on my own. “Out Early For Wedding Planning. Danish in Fridge. Take Off Plastic Before Putting in Microwave. Love Mom.”
Appetizing, I thought grimly. I decided to skip breakfast and head over to the hotel. Perhaps Varun would be around – perhaps he'd be one for hiking. In any case, sneaking grub from the hotel buffet sounded like a better prospect than day-old refrigerated Danish.
I quickly changed into sneakers and shorts, picking out a silky floral blouse whose patterns – flowers and coral – reminded me of last night's garden, and then headed off to the hotel.
Brandon and Varun were nowhere to be found, but Sally, the girl I knew from the party, was manning reception.
“I like this a lot better than kids' parties,” she said. “But last night was an emergency.” She smiled at me. “Looking for your mom?”
“Actually, I'm looking for Varun.”
“Just missed him.” She laughed. “It's a Saturday morning. You won't find Varun if you get here after eight. He leaves to go surfing with Brandon every Saturday, seven a.m., on the dot. You could try going to the beach, but I wouldn't be too hopeful. Sometimes they take Brandon's dad's boat and go around the island.”
“Shame,” I admitted. “I was hoping they'd take me hiking. They told me that this island had great hiking trails. Brandon told me that there was a place I could go to find these gorgeous colored stones – I collect stones, you know.” Ever since I was a baby, I had been fascinated by pieces of colored rock, tiny almost-gemstones I could hold in the palm of my hand and imagine were pieces of a vanished magic universe.
“You'll have a lot of luck around here,” Sally said. “The place is coming down with them. Stones, plants, leaves – birdwatchers like to collect feathers sometime. I lead hiking tours on Sunday afternoons if you're interested – Antonio likes to keep his staff busy! Kids' parties, the reception desk, hiking tours – it's definitely not your ordinary hotel.” She smiled at me. “But I can give you a trail map if you want to go alone today. It's not dangerous as long as you stay on the track. They're all pretty clearly marked.” She gave me a look that made it clear she knew what I was thinking – who needs maps?
“And take water and food in case you get lost.” She brought out a bottle of water and a chocolate bar from behind the desk. “Staff treats,” she said, sliding them across the desk. “Another one of Antonio's innovation. Keeps up morale!” She handed me the map. “Now, since you're new, I recommend the basic Trail One. That's the one with the blue arrows. It leads you around this gorgeous cliff by the sea with nice views, and then to a waterfall about two miles inland. You can have a swim at the waterfall and then head back along the beach if the tide's right. If not, go back the way you came.”
I took the map gratefully, along with the snacks. I had, after all, forgotten to get breakfast. But my hunger was soon forgotten as I found myself in the midst of the most beautiful scenery I had ever seen. Vines twisted and turned down steep cliffs; flowers let off intoxicating scents as they dangled from trees and shrubs. Butterflies with enormous decorated wings flitted from petal to petal, as if in time to the calls of birds. And through everything I could see the sea, hear its noble roar, as I caught glimpses of green-tinted blue from between the vines.
I followed the blue arrows at first, as Sally had said, and reached the waterfall in a couple of hours. I made my way down to the beach for the return but found, as Sally had warned, that the tide was not favorable, and I couldn't walk back without getting my shorts and backpack seriously wet. She had advised going back the way I came, but my desire for exploration and adventure made me rail against the suggestion. I'd find my own way back, I told myself – maybe find a shortcut. Go somewhere the tourists didn't ordinarily go.
I left the blue arrows behind and made my way into the brambles. The vines trailed down around me, caressing my shoulders. I pressed my face into the flowers, smelling their sweet, honey-tinted, scent. Soon I was far from the path, letting my feet take me deeper into the midst of this beauty. A flame-colored monarch butterfly flew past me, fluttering in a up and down pattern. Since the Erosion, butterflies were rare, and a monarch butterfly was even more rare. I brought a sketch pad with me…perhaps I could sketch it, capture its beauty. I followed it further.
Go further. And once again I felt that strange calling I had felt when approaching the flames the other night at the bonfire – the sense that I was being summoned, that I was wanted somewhere. Go deeper.
Like a sleepwalker, I listened to the voice, allowing my feet to guide me. The monarch butterfly flew along besides me, fluttering up and down, l
ike a small torchlight. I was deep within jungle now – the sun was high in the noon sky and I climbed up the ridges to the top of one of the mountains. My mind was overcome by the beauty, by the smell of the flowers. I could focus on only one phrase, repeated over and over again like the drumbeat in my mind. Go further, Mac. Go deeper.
The sun had started to set before I realized what had happened. It was the silence that made me realize it first. There was no sound of the sea where I was – and I could not see its blue waves in the distance. I had gone so far inland that I could hear nothing at all.
My heart began beating faster as my senses came back to me. What had I done? I looked around wildly. Where was I? The monarch butterfly was gone. Had I imagined it? I started running back downhill the way I came, but suddenly the terrain seemed all unfamiliar to me. The paths twisted and tangled, and each way was equally strange. I didn't belong here, I knew, as my blood began to prickle and burn with fear. I shouldn't be here.
And yet that calling – it had been so convincing, so strong...
I needed to find my way back, I knew. I made my way a bit further down the hill, trying desperately to make out the direction of the sea. I looked down at my map, but it was no use – I had long since vanished off its borders, into the uncharted territories of white space. I started to panic as my feet collided with a tangle of brush – one knotted so deep that I couldn't manage to pry my way through. I heard the sound of footsteps and looked up, my body flooding with relief. So, somebody was there after all! Somebody was coming to save me!
But as I looked up, my eyes following the shadow that had been cast over the glade, I gasped with terror. The footsteps were not of a person at all, but of a boar, its blood-stained horns glistening in the evening sky. My heart began to pound harder.”
“Nice boar,” I whispered. “Good boar...”
It stamped its feet into the ground. Its pale yellow eyes leered at me as it blew forth gusts of air from its nose. Its horns looked even sharper up close.
I knew that look. It was going to charge.
In an instant I was on my feet, running faster, faster, as fast as I could to get out of there. I coughed and spluttered, agony flooding my body as my muscles started to produce acid. But the boar was hot on my trail. It had decided I was a threat, now; it had decided to gore me through. No matter how fast I ran, the boar was at my heels, sniffing and groaning from its great throat.
My legs were getting tired; there was no way I could outrun it. “Help me!” I cried, my voice catching in my throat. “Somebody help me, please!”
It was so close that I could feel its breath on my shoulders – it was ready to strike.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the stab, waiting for the pain...
And then I felt nothing. I only heard the rustling of leaves, a groan of pain followed by a short, sharp thud.
I turned around to see the boar's body splayed out on top of the leaves, its head clearly severed, staring up at me with glassy eyes.
I screamed, then clapped a hand over my mouth.
If the boar was killed, then that meant only one thing. There was someone else in the woods.
Chapter 9
I looked around wildly for the killer of the boar, but he were nowhere to be found. There was no sound – not even a rustling of the leaves. “Hello?” I called out softly, unsure if this mysterious figure was friend or foe.
At last I heard footsteps in among the leaves – human footsteps, this time. A figure stepped out from the shadows – and then another, and another, and another. A group of six or seven men, their faces hidden beneath layers of paint, stepped forth, spears held tightly in their hands. They wore the traditional garb of Aeros – garb I had seen only in history books.
In a flash, I remembered what my textbook had said: The original indigenous people of Aeros Island intermarried in the late first century AD with settlers from the Roman Empire. The children of these marriages were known as the Veteri, the Old People, for from then on each successive wave of settlers brought new changes to the island. The Veteri came to be identified by their distinctive face-paint markings, a flame on one side of the cheek and an ocean scroll on the other, to symbolize their twin origins: the fires of the island volcano and the seas that brought the Romans to them.
The Veteri died out in the late 10th century AD, when the island was conquered by Vikings from Finland and most Veteri abandoned their nomadic ways to reside in the growing towns and cities of the island.
Evidently the history books were wrong, I thought grimly, spying the distinctive flame and wave on the mens' faces. Yet, beneath the paint, their eyes flashed dark with anger. It was clear that I had intruded upon their space – that I was not wanted here.
“I'm sorry...” I whispered. “I didn't meant to disturb you,” I said quickly. “I just got lost. If you could just show me the way back to the beach.”
They seemed to grip their spears tighter in response; I shivered. “Look, if you'll just let me find my way back...” I made as if to leave, but one of the men from behind, stepped straight across my path, his expression stern and implacable. He clearly wasn't about to let me step out.
“Well, if it isn't Miss Evers!”
I gasped as a familiar face made its way through the crowd. Chance was strolling nonchalantly through the group of men, his body clad in black jeans and a black t-shirt. His hair was so black, shiny, and thick, it glistened in the light. Again, the mere sight of him took my breath away for a second before I remembered how much of a jerk he could be with me. But at this moment, his familiar face was the most welcome sight I’ve seen all day.
“Chance!” I exclaimed in shock. “What are you doing here?”
“The same thing I imagine you're doing, Miss Evers. Out for a bit of a walk. I take it you've lost your way.” He spoke cheerily, but I could feel the sarcasm in his soft but gentle low voice.
“No, I decided it would be a spot of fun to sleep rough tonight.” My stomach rumbled loudly, exposing the falsity of my bravado. “What do you think?”
“I thought perhaps you just liked the scenery.”
“Would you just stop...” My cheeks blazed.
He took a step closer to me and whispered. “Don't look angry. They don't trust anyone they think can't control their emotions.” He gave a furtive nod to the men. “Cool it. You want them to trust you, or you're not getting out of here alive.” He took another step towards me, and I could feel my body once again growing weak – already so tired from the run and the fear – as he fixed his shimmering blue eyes on me. I looked into his eyes with my green ones, trying to understand this infuriating man, trying to…
He kissed me. Roughly, passionately, all at once – as I had dreamed, against myself, that he would do – pulling me towards him, as if he wanted to pull me within his very soul. His kiss was searing, breaking all the fear and uncertainty I had about him, unleashing the desire I had for him even before I realized it. I staggered back and then kissed him back, unable to resist twining my arms around his head. My heart beat to the same old dance – the dance of the fire, the dance where we had both been surrounded, almost engulfed, by flames. This was the kiss we both held back from that night at the fire dance with the flames surrounding us.
They felt hotter now.
And then Chance turned away, facing one of the warriors, the one who was carrying the boar's head under his arm. “I see you've found my woman,” he said.
“What?” I cut in.
But Chance ignored me. “I see she wandered up here to find me – she thought she could find my hiding place. You know how it is, my friends. She misses the warmth of my bed.”
My eyebrows shot straight up.
“She's likely gotten a bit cold – haven't you, Mac?”
“Freezing,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
“So you see, I can vouch for her. She has no interest in intruding upon your ways. She wants only a bit of what I'm afraid, friends, you cannot give her. At least, I hope yo
u don't try.”
The warrior's grim face crinkled into a smile.
“She'll never reveal your secret – I can vouch for that. I take responsibility for her. You remember, don't you, of how I spoke of my twin? I showed you the picture, my friend?”
The warrior nodded.
“Well, this is she. In all the delicious flesh.” Chance shot me a look that showed how much he admired my “delicious flesh”. I was going to retort with something clever, but his look was not that of a leering pervert, but was one of a man truly admiring the beauty of a woman. That look said it all: he wanted me. But he wasn’t going to let me have him that easily.
To my shock, the warrior bowed, tapping his chest as the others all dropped to their knees. “Great god,” the warrior touched his forehead to the ground. “You have found your goddess at last.”
Chance did not break his gaze on me as he said, “Yes.” He smiled. “It appears I have.” He paused lightly, and then put his arm around me. “To that end,” he continued, “I'd awfully like to give the girl what she came for, don't you think? It would be a shame to deprive her – after she came all this way.”
The men laughed.
“So I think I'll lead her away from you – if you don't mind. I know how you are with women, Ailani.” He turned to the warrior. “I think it's better if I keep her safe from you.”
The warrior continued his bow as Chance led me away, his arm around my shoulder as we walked further down the mountain path. I was still reeling from confusion and fear. Who were these men – and why did they worship Chance as a god? And what had happened to me? That kiss, so tender and yet so rough, still burned on my lips. I could still taste his mouth – spicy and sweet – on mine. I felt my body start to ache: from exhaustion, from pain, from desire. I felt myself grow weak at the knees as I staggered to the ground, but Chance quickly propped me up. At his touch, I felt as I had felt before: drunk, exhausted, overcomed, yet excited.