A Stirring from Salem

by Sheri Anderson

  There, at the back of the plane, was Wen with the snake dagger held to his carotid artery by John Black.

  Jiao-jie began to inch her way to the open door.

  John’s eyes were flashing as angrily as the diamonds in the dagger. “One more inch toward that door, and Wen’s a dead man.”

  Jiao-jie froze in her tracks.

  “Now just one little favor,” John directed, cocking his eyebrow. “We’re going to need the two-way radio.”

  Jiao-jie was not rattled. This was a woman who’d stood on the edge of danger for years. Instead, she smiled.

  “We can make you a fortune,” she said seductively.

  “You forget,” John said, laughing at her offer. “I already have one.”

  He yanked Wen tighter, cutting off the man’s windpipe. The pain was evident in Wen’s eyes as John snarled, “I suggest you hurry.”

  Wen’s eyes were filled with panic, and Jiao-jie knew John would have no qualms about killing him.

  “Let him breathe,” Jiao-jie conceded, putting her hands up as she backed to the radio.

  John lessened his grip but kept the dagger to Wen’s neck as Jiao-jie slithered to the two-way radio. But as she turned, she reached down and lifted a pistol from next to the seat, whirling and aiming it directly at her husband and his captor.

  “Guns beat daggers, no?” she laughed. “Let him go!”

  “Depends on whose holding ’em,” John said as he flung the steely weapon at Jiao-jie with perfect aim. Startled, she fired, the shot going wild and hitting Wen as John released him. Then the gun flew from her hand as the razor-sharp point sliced into her right shoulder.

  “Wen,” she screamed as she stumbled toward the open stairway in a desperate attempt to escape.

  But there, standing at the bottom of the stairs, was Patch with his Smith & Wesson aimed right at her.

  John appeared in the open doorway behind her.

  “Wen’s dead,” John said evenly. “But this one’s going to need some medical attention.”

  “Kayla and Bill are off for the rest of the night,” Patch said wryly. “But when the ISA helicopter gets here, they can medevac her.”

  John looked into the distance to see a helicopter heading toward them. What neither of them saw was Cornelius in his truck, observing everything from a distance.

  Marlena stood under the cooling water in the glass-enclosed shower, trying to shake off her drowsiness. John would surely be back soon and she wanted to be able to love him fully.

  With no one but several giraffes munching on the highest leaves outside the suite watching her, Marlena finished her shower and then dried off with one of the luxurious towels on the chaise nearby.

  The sounds of the night were like music as the beautiful blonde reached for a negligee from the bureau drawer. But her footing was still unsure. She wobbled a bit, stabilizing herself on the smooth wood surface.

  “Air, I need air,” she said aloud, but then corrected that. “I don’t need air. I need to get my blood moving.”

  Using the phone on the night table, she called for an escort. “I’d appreciate someone walking me to the lapa,” she said yawning. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  Marlena pulled on a simple off-the-shoulder tunic and ran her fingers through her hair. Glancing in the mirror, she slid on a pale lip gloss and smiled. She was natural and radiant.

  As she slipped into her shoes, Marlena heard footsteps on the elevated path outside. The escort was a few minutes early, but she was ready so she headed for the door.

  But when she opened the door, it wasn’t her escort. It was Cornelius, with a pistol trained right between her eyes.

  Marlena opened her mouth to scream, but Cornelius snapped, “Don’t you dare.”

  “What’s this all about, Cornelius? Where’s John?” she asked.

  The phone rang, startling them both. Marlena’s head snapped as she turned toward it. “That could be him.”

  “Nope,” Cornelius offered. “He’s with the Xings. And you’re coming with me.”

  Marlena gasped as Cornelius wrenched her outside with his free hand. He was adrenalized and strong, not to mention hopped up on Adderall. He shoved her down the illuminated pathway.

  Under the canopy of overhanging trees, Marlena stumbled as her captor pushed her forward.

  “Just tell me what’s going on…”

  “I was being the good guy, the honorable guy, bringing them one last horn,” he snarled. “But your husband had to stick his nose in. I saw him on that plane.”

  Indeed, Cornelius had arrived to deliver his trophy and witnessed the Xings’ capture.

  “And I’m your insurance,” Marlena realized.

  “Beautiful and smart. Your husband’s a lucky man.”

  Cornelius’ truck was parked outside the main entrance, and he yanked her upright as they approached.

  “Marlena?”

  Cornelius snapped his head to see a stunned Charley in the open doorway of the lapa, Brendan at her side. The photo shoot in the tent had ended, and after their lavish supper, the crew gathered in the lapa to celebrate.

  “I just tried to call you,” Charley stammered. Charley’s heart had been opened, and Brendan had convinced her that she should connect with John and Marlena before it was too late.

  Now, the scene in front of Charley was a surreal reminder of the all-too-recent loss of her parents.

  “Get back inside,” Cornelius demanded as he yanked Marlena roughly.

  “No!” Charley gasped as a wave of panic swept over her. Suddenly Charley bolted to save Marlena.

  But Brendan grabbed her and shoved her to safety. Before Cornelius knew what had hit him, Brendan had pulled his sidearm and fired.

  Bam!

  And again.

  Bam! The sound reverberated through the camp.

  Cornelius reeled as he was hit in the chest, a wild shot from his pistol firing as the gun flew out of his hand and into the air. As Marlena was released from his grasp, he fell to the gravel, blood gushing from the gape in his chest.

  Marlena’s first instinct was to help her captor, but it was too late. Brendan’s shots had hit him square in the chest. In an instant Cornelius was gone.

  The still of the night had been shattered. Now all that could be heard were the sounds of nature and a helicopter in the distance.

  Staff and security appeared, reacting to the shots and chaos. They ordered everyone to stay inside, but Charley rushed down the stairs to Marlena’s side.

  “Are you all right?” she said, gulping in air as though she couldn’t breathe.

  Marlena nodded, deeply shaken.

  “Yes, yes…I’m fine…”

  Flooded with emotion, Charley started to sob. “I could have lost you, Marlena. You could have died, too.”

  Their eyes locked.

  “But I’m here…” Marlena assured her as Charley went into Marlena’s enveloping arms.

  At that moment, they found a new connection that could never be broken. “Looks like we both love heroes.”

  “I’m sorry this took so long,” Charley wept as she held Marlena tightly.

  “That was before,” Marlena said to her daughter. “Now we can work on our new life together.”

  Charley glanced over at Brendan, who was now with the head of security. As he was describing what transpired, he turned and caught her gaze, and they shared a smile of understanding.

  Brendan watched as the two women cradled each other, their barriers finally broken.

  There had been an abundance of publicity about the shoot because of all that had transpired in South Africa, and Vince’s career was soaring from the buzz.

  The galleys for the twentieth-anniversary edition of The Look came in, and Nikki, Brigitta, and Scarlett were relegated to the editorial pages while the respl
endent shot of Charley was the entire cover. Vince had been right. He had captured her Mona Lisa mystique as Charley stared into the Timbavati assessing her future.

  Scarlett, though, wasn’t angry about the cover. Since Cornelius was gone, she’d never actually gotten involved in anything illegal. But her experience in South Africa had been a wake-up call for her, and she’d spent the past two months in rehab regaining her life and learning a new perspective.

  “What do you think?” Charley asked as she looked into the camera on her computer.

  Charley was in the kitchen of Maison du Noir, iChatting on her Mac with Brendan who was in the Royal Londolani library on its one and only computer. With Jackson and Chance’s places being sold, John and Marlena had offered to have Charley stay at their home base in Switzerland while she decided her future.

  “When it comes out, you may be a superstar,” Brendan smiled as he looked at the JPEG she’d sent him.

  “That’s what Vince says,” Charley answered. “But we’ll see. You know I never wanted to be in front of the camera.”

  “As for me? It makes my heart beat a little faster,” Brendan smiled as he put his hand to his heart and looked at the enigmatic photo. “That’s my girl.”

  Then Charley’s heart fluttered. “Speaking of your other girl, how is she doing?”

  “I saw her yesterday, and she’s doing great,” Brendan answered. “That Phoebe’s a little terror.”

  “I miss you,” Charley said as she touched the screen. “How could we have connected so strongly so quickly?”

  “Email, phones, and iChat,” Brendan answered glibly. “We’ve gotten to know each other intimately without all that distracting physical stuff,” he added wryly. “And believe me, those lips, those eyes, those—” he coughed “—they were all unbearably distracting.”

  Charley and Brendan had built the quintessential long-distance relationship. Thousands of miles had come between them, but technology allowed them to spend immeasurable time together.

  “And I like who you are,” she said with a smile. “Is there any chance I’m going to get to ever really see you?”

  “Hey, who’ve you got there?” Marlena asked as she entered, flicking loose snow from her shoulders. “Is that the man of my dreams?” She smiled. “Well, he would be if I was just a teeny bit younger.”

  “You’ve got the man of your dreams, woman,” John reminded her as he entered from the living room. “Hey, Brendan, how goes it there?”

  John and Marlena positioned themselves behind Charley. They shared smiles, a warmth born of newfound familiarity.

  “Autumn’s never our best,” Brendan admitted. “Thunderstorms almost every afternoon now and still the lush is turning to brush very quickly. Not the most popular time of the year.”

  “We’ve heard that from Patch and Kayla,” John answered. “It’s made redoing the clinic a bit of a challenge, but we know they’ll get there.”

  Tom-Ali was finally in the midst of its repairs. Not only had John provided an interest-free loan, but when Abby and Jackson had heard of their plight, Jackson had suggested she create a tomali.com fund-raiser through The Spectator, and he would oversee the charity.

  Although their relationship had had its rocky moments because of the Gaines scandal, money was coming into the clinic dollar by dollar, five by five, and the steady flow of cash was refilling its coffers. And even though they put their wedding plans on hold while Abby went to see her mother in Salem, the project had brought such attention to The Spectator and was so well run that her father offered Jackson a job at the paper.

  “Everyone’s really thrilled that Patch and Kayla stayed,” Brendan said, giving a thumbs-up. “Tom-Ali gives a lot of people hope down here.”

  “Bill tells me they’re planning a reopening in July,” Marlena said. “Kayla’s sister, Kim, and her husband are planning to be there.”

  Yes, Kim and Shane were indeed back together and living together in Los Angeles like the super-couple they had once been. Shane had recognized while working with John that he could still realize his passion and save his marriage by working as an ISA consultant.

  “Think you’ll all be able to make it down?” Brendan asked, his eyes lighting up. “Since breaking that smuggling ring, John, you’re something of a celebrity down here.”

  “We only got one poaching syndicate. There are dozens.”

  “Yeah, but the international publicity you gave it helped. New tactics are going into effect on a daily basis,” Brendan reminded them. “Tracking the rhinos by GPS and even injecting the horns with arsenic so that if anyone takes them, they’ll be poisoned.”

  “If we hadn’t seen all of that with our own eyes, we wouldn’t have believed it,” Marlena said.

  “Killing animals for sport,” Brendan said, choking back emotion. “Never did understand that mind-set.”

  “Which is one reason I love you,” Charley said, then quickly covered her mouth, realizing what she had just said for the first time.

  John and Marlena’s eyebrows went up, and they grinned at one another.

  “I love you, too,” Brendan admitted. “You’re my girl,” he repeated. “And we can say it in front of these two.”

  Charley started blushing. She was obviously flustered.

  “Any chance you guys’ll make it back for the Tom-Ali celebration?” Brendan repeated as he fixated on Charley. “It’d be more than great to see you. To see you all.”

  “Four months from now, well, that’s a long time in advance to plan,” John said. “But if it’s low season there, how about we send you a ticket to come up here to Lausanne?”

  Charley’s heart leapt, and Brendan was taken aback.

  “I’ve got Phoebe,” he reminded them. “I couldn’t be away that long.”

  “I’ll bet she’s a good little traveler,” Marlena chimed in.

  “You’d send her a ticket? Really?” Brendan asked.

  “Really?” Charley marveled.

  “Really,” John insisted. “The more the merrier.”

  “We have plenty of room, and we’d love to have you both,” Marlena concluded as she wrapped her arm around Charley.

  “You’re serious,” Brendan said, overwhelmed. “I’d love to.”

  Charley was overwhelmed as well. After the time she’d spent with John and Marlena, she’d come to love who they were and the freedom they all shared as they explored their new relationship.

  “Thank you so much,” Charley said, as tears of joy welled up in her cover-girl eyes.

  Marlena kissed the top of Charley’s head tenderly and choked back emotion. “There’s nothing more important than family.”

  THE END

  Acknowledgments

  Without the inspiration, patience, love, and hard work of so many people, this novel never would have happened. I want to send a huge thank you once again to Ken Corday, Greg Meng, and Corday Productions for inviting me back into the world of Days of our Lives and giving me total creative freedom. Lois Winslow’s grace and help has been over and above. At Sourcebooks, Peter Lynch’s edits and notes added clarity to the storytelling that enriched both plot and character, Diane Dannenfeldt’s copy edits kept me both accurate and cogent, and ItGirl Public Relations and Klear PR worked tirelessly to promote the novel series to a broad and welcoming media and audience.

  The passion with which my sister, Judy Speas, continued as my personal editor could not be appreciated enough, and Michele Reilly’s input and support were more significant than ever. Lawrence Zarian’s amazing friendship and contributions to story and character were remarkable, and to those who also helped with my extensive research I tip my hat. Gregory Zarian and Joe Balthazar’s glimpse into the worlds of modeling and photo shoots were both enlightening and generous. Cobus Gauche, Brendan Pollecutt, and Burgert Muller’s knowledge and sensitivity to both the beauty and conflict that
is South Africa were unparalleled. And once again Google saved my life with facts and figures that astounded me on a daily basis.

  Thanks to Paul Cohen, for his amazing humor, patience, and optimism that is infectious. I also owe a debt of gratitude to Franz Marx, who invited me to work with him twice in South Africa. They were trips that both inspired and enriched my life. To those at the Chateau Marmont who let me carve out a place to write with no interruptions in a delicious atmosphere, and to those at Roundup Valley Ranch who let me write on their porch on weekends while taking in the breathtaking Santa Ynez scenery, I cannot say enough.

  As for my husband, Paca—pronounced Pay-ka—his unconditional love, inspiration, and support especially during my sporadic periods of writer’s block are historic. And the glasses of wine in front of the fire while holding hands on the couch at the end of a long day remind me daily that love and romance live.

  To the fans, new and old—there would be no novels or Days of our Lives without you.

  About the Author

  Two-time Emmy-winning writer Sheri Anderson was responsible for more than 3,000 hours of network television before authoring the fiction novel series, Salem’s Secrets, Scandals, and Lies. She is widely credited for some of the most memorable characters and groundbreaking storylines on the small screen. Shows she helmed or co-headwrote include Days of our Lives, General Hospital, Santa Barbara, and Falcon Crest. She is also a partner in CohenThomas Management, a firm representing actors in film and television. Sheri resides in Los Angeles with her husband Paca Thomas, five-time Emmy winner and owner of the media arts company pacaworks.com. He is also the on-air sidekick and producer on Bernie Taupin’s American Roots Radio.

  A Stirring from Salem is the second in the series.