“How long?” he asked.
“Three days,” Catherine replied. “I think your head took one too many knocks. You’ve also got some pretty nasty lacerations and bruising, but I guess your body has been making good use of the rest. You look an awful lot better than you did.”
“Will I be able to play piano again?” Thomas joked, holding up his bandaged fingers.
“You should be able to,” Catherine laughed.
“Amazing, considering he couldn’t before,” Jericho added.
“I’ll get the doctor,” Catherine said softly, kissing him on the forehead.
She slipped past the curtain, and returned a few moments later with a tall, African doctor. He had hints of grey in his tightly curled hair and crow’s feet around the eyes, but he offered Thomas a kindly smile. Thomas replied with a grimace as his vitals were checked.
“You’re in pretty good shape considering what you’ve been through. A few days of rest and some more fluids, and you should be just fine,” the doctor declared.
After a few more checks and detaching a drip Thomas hadn’t noticed, the doctor left them.
“Mason is recovering in the next ward. Jelani is sorry he couldn’t be here too, but he’s rather busy. Looks like you stirred up something of a hornet’s nest,” Jericho explained. “First, Kanu’s operation has been completely shut down, and his men surrendered as soon as the authorities arrived. Secondly, those two males that you had a brush with. It appears you might be right; they bear all the look and swagger of Barbary lions. The plan is to take some samples of hair and saliva at a bait trap and look at their genetics. But more than that, they’ve moved in to the pride’s territory. There’s only three younger females left, and they seem happy to have the protection of the brothers as you called them. Anga ya Amani is about to become Kenya’s most desirable safari camp for scientists and tourists alike. With Kanu gone, we’re hoping the game will come back, and that under the leadership of the brothers, the pride will return to more natural prey. The government is already drawing up plans to expand the Tsavo park borders to protect them.”
“But that’s not all,” Catherine interrupted. “It looks like you may have inadvertently discovered another new species of cat.”
“The Mngwa,” Thomas answered with a nod. “It translates as something like the strange one.”
Catherine nodded.
“It was originally described in field journals from the late 1930s by William Hichens, a British clerk stationed in Tanzania. It was also tracked by a hunter named Patrick Bowen in the fifties. But it’s never been proven to exist.”
“Until now,” Jericho laughed. “Kelly was practically doing somersaults. The Field Museum want both it and some of the others for their research and exhibits. There’s a pretty heated bidding war for the documentary. I also found some items in both Kanu and Kruger’s camp to make things worth my while,” he grinned. “Catherine made sure they wouldn’t need them again.”
Thomas glanced at her and smiled. He knew there were lots of gaps in the story to cover, but it looked like they had a few days to do so. He settled back into the pillow and closed his eyes as he listened to Jericho recount their adventures.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Three weeks later, he found himself looking up at the distant peak of Mount Kilimanjaro. It was a bright African spring afternoon in early November. The gorge was as beautiful as he remembered. Most of the flowers were already in bloom, and splashed the terracotta rocks with further colour. There were bright pink desert roses, gold and red peacock flowers, and delicate blue elephant’s foot mixed with vivid purple bauhinia. The flat-topped acacia tree was still there, marking the entrance to the gorge. It offered him shade today, just as it had when he had scattered Amanda’s ashes. It was here that he had returned to say goodbye.
He looked down at his watch and released the clasp on the bracelet. He held it in his hand as he turned it over and read the inscription.
“Live free. Live wild. Love forever.”
He knelt, looking out at the gorge. What he had said to Musa had been true. Knowing what had happened to Amanda had freed him of the burden of his guilt. He didn’t know if it was because Kanu had met the same fate by the same animal, or if it was just from knowing he himself hadn’t been to blame. Deep down though, he knew the peace came from knowing Amanda had died simply being true to herself. Kindness, compassion and bravery had made her leave the tent that night. He knew she would have been happy to be laid to rest in Africa. He decided there and then that this was where she and his memories belonged. Here, surrounded by peace and beauty, and protected from guilt and the past. It was time to go.
“You’re going to be late for your own wedding,” Jericho called from the Warthog, parked a little way behind.
“I’ll blame the best man,” Thomas said with a grin, turning around and walking towards him as he refastened the watch.
They drove in silence, only exchanging boyish smiles and playful shakes of the head. Jericho punched him on the arm and then crushed his shoulders with a powerful, one-armed hug.
“I’m happy for you man,” he said.
“And that’s what I am, happy,” Thomas replied. “I’ve also don’t think I’ve ever seen your car this clean,” he joked, looking over the cabin.
“Well it’s not every day she gets to be a wedding car.”
They roared through the gates of the world-famous Finch Hattons private game camp. Thomas spotted two Range Rovers that seemed somehow familiar. He shot a questioning glance at Jericho.
“It’s not like Kanu was using them...and you insisted on flying in your guests and families. How else was I supposed to get them here? Finch Hattons were very happy to accept your contribution,” the Irishman explained, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “You’re honeymooning here too, aren’t you?”
“Presidential suite,” Thomas replied, raising an eyebrow. “I wanted to show Catherine the real Africa.”
“Some would argue you already have,” Jericho laughed as they walked through a gazebo gate into a wild flower meadow.
Thomas stopped in his tracks. It was stunning. The early evening beckoned with a light warm breeze, and the sun was just beginning to set. Candle lanterns marked walkways lined with flower baskets that led to the front. There, a kindly looking Kenyan registrar in a black shirt and round glasses waited for him. He and Jericho passed along the gathered guests. Thomas saw his sister and parents sitting next to Catherine’s mother, and he gave them a knowing nod and a grin. Kelly Keelson and Mason sat just behind them. The reporter turned producer beamed at them both. Jericho made a little bow in her direction.
The registrar smiled kindly at them as they took their place to his left. Thirty seconds later, the small group of musicians behind the registrar began to play. A piano began the main theme from Christina Perry’s A Thousand Years, and Thomas had to stop himself from letting a tear roll down his cheek as the cello joined in. Two violins added their voice, interweaving the melody with Wagner’s bridal march perfectly. Thomas could barely breathe. His back was turned to the congregation, and he saw Jericho stiffen as his jaw dropped. The Irishman turned to meet his gaze, his face lit up in wonder. Thomas turned.
There she was. There were no words. Her beauty and grace defied his attempts to categorise them. Her short hair was tied back in two natural curls that complemented her neckline. A braid of delicate pink and white flowers nestled against the dark copper strands. Her eyes were a deep turquoise as they caught the setting sun and became fixed on him. The pink lips and the corners of her mouth crumpled into a cute and honest smile that brought his thumping heart back to something of a normal pace. The dress she wore was striking yet quietly beautiful. It was embellished with ivory Venice lace and the material itself was subtly naked. It hugged her form, showing her breath-taking figure. The V-neckline and short sleeves made it seem less formal, and suited her perfectly. It ended in a sweep train that gave the impression she was floating through the meadow towards
him. As she took her place beside him and inhaled a deep breath, it was only then that Thomas noticed it had been her brother walking her up the aisle. Thomas couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Time seemed to stand still. He could hear the registrar speaking. He consciously had to force himself to respond to the questions he was asked, even when he finally said “I do.” They both had tears in their eyes by then.
When Kelly caught the bouquet, she couldn’t help blush as she glanced in a ruffled fashion at Jericho. Thomas and Catherine both cried during their speeches. Jericho had everyone laughing and crying again with his. Before they knew it, night had fallen, and they took to the floor of a beautifully adorned barn to take their first dance. Fittingly ‘A Thousand Years’ played again, this time in its original version.
“I won’t let anything take away what’s standing in front of me,” Thomas whispered as he pushed his fingers through her hair, repeating the lyrics. “The two of us, together from now on.”
“I have something to tell you,” she purred in his ear. “It won’t just be the two of us I’m afraid.” She gazed into his eyes, aglow with affection and tenderness. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered. “Eight weeks.”
Thomas couldn’t help but cry. He picked her up off the floor with one hand and whirled with her, and she clung to him and threw her head back in a girlish laugh. They didn’t stop dancing for hours.
It was much later when Thomas joined Jericho at the railings of the game lodge, looking out over the savannah. The Irishman slapped him on the back with a hearty embrace. As they surveyed the silhouetted trees and darkness, lifting their eyes to the stars and nearly full moon, a savage and searching roar echoed out of the landscape. Jericho turned to Thomas and smiled.
“If that isn’t the roar of a Barbary lion, I don’t know what is,” he laughed.
Thomas returned the smile, and picked up his beer as he walked back to the dance floor with his best man. He glanced back just once before Catherine’s hand found his, and whisked him away.
~
The big grey and white mottled male lingered for a while. He had travelled up the coast, occasionally catching the scent of the female before he had begun to track her inland. But now the rich aroma had vanished without trace. He knew he couldn’t stay here, having already picked up the markings of the two male lions. He had learnt a long time ago to remain hidden and avoid confrontation. He growled at the lights in the distance once, then padded away back into the night.
EPILOGUE
There was no trace of the warmth of an African spring as Jericho passed through the gates of a remote Welsh facility, just outside of Snowdonia National Park, a few weeks later. Thomas and Catherine were still on honeymoon, and safely out of the country as had always been the plan. The security here wasn’t Army, but they had a military swagger for sure. Private contractors that could be kept off the books no doubt. He was directed towards an open hangar, where a dark coloured Jaguar saloon sat. He drove the hired Hyundai SUV over and parked.
He climbed out of the car and made his way to the group of men waiting for him. They stood around an enormous crate that was waiting to be loaded onto an AVIC Y-20 cargo plane. As with the hunters and trappers he had already procured, he had vetted the crew himself. They could be trusted to keep their mouths shut and had been paid handsomely to do so.
Jericho couldn’t help smiling as he approached the jumpy looking man from DEFRA, his contact. Pettigrew was a gerbil of a man and he knew it.
“Mr. O’Connell, late as usual,” Pettigrew complained, puffing his chest up.
Jericho ignored him.
“I trust all is in hand?” Pettigrew enquired nervously.
“Everything is arranged to take her off your hands and out of your country, if that’s what you mean Mr. Pettigrew,” Jericho replied.
“And your friends?”
“Still in blissful ignorance that a number of sabre-toothed kittens made it into the Scottish wilds thanks to an idiot who thought they’d make great pets. And that you are still hunting and killing any big cat you find, in direct violation to UK law, and the directive you gave them. How’s puss?”
Jericho looked past Pettigrew to Ryan Glass, his head trapper.
“Sedated and ready for her trip,” the rough looking man replied.
Jericho walked over to the crate. It had been designed to his specifications, reinforced with carbon steel throughout. He peeked through one of the ventilation holes. The hulking mass of the animal inside was all that he could make out, but he saw enough to be happy. Her fangs were more than visible as she rested on the floor of the crate. A heavy snort and snore reverberated around its interior, shaking the walls.
“According to the notes we found in the owner’s journal, she’s not even two years old yet or even fully grown. He named her Tama, after a Native American spirit.” Pettigrew explained.
“Strangely fitting,” Jericho said with a grin. “I presume we have that journal?”
Pettigrew handed it over, begrudgingly.
“It’s for the best, can’t have you hanging onto any evidence or being associated with any of this,” Jericho explained with mocking sincerity.
He nodded at the assembled crew to start loading the crate. Pettigrew handed him a black holdall.
“Feels about right,” he mused as he judged the weight of the payoff. He turned away and began to walk back towards the car.
“Why not kill it Mr. O’Connell?” Pettigrew called out.
“Because she is a miracle of nature Mr. Pettigrew, and one of a kind,” Jericho yelled as the aircraft’s jet fans began to turn over. “She’s not one of your leopards or pumas. She’s a superstar and deserves to shine. Also, my hypocrisy only goes so far. Thomas wouldn’t want her killed without reason, and neither do I.”
“What about the other one?”
“She must be dead. We found no trace of her,” Jericho replied.
He opened the door of the SUV and climbed in. He put the holdall down on the passenger seat and patted it with a sigh of satisfaction.
“At least...not in this country,” he shrugged, watching Pettigrew climb into the back of the Jaguar saloon.
As Jericho stopped at a mountain crossroad a few minutes later, he watched the cargo plane climbing overhead, turning west and headed towards the Atlantic. He paused to watch it go before pulling away, back towards the airport and his own long flight home.
THE END
A Note from the Author
Thank you very much for reading The Daughters of the Darkness. By doing so, you’ve supported an independent author and the independent publishing industry. This is my second novel, and a direct follow-on from the first, Shadow Beast. If it wasn’t for thousands of readers like you, taking a chance on an unknown writer, it would never have been possible. So once again, thank you.
For us little guys, spreading the word is really important. So, I make one request. Whatever your thoughts about the book you’ve just read, good, bad, or otherwise, please consider leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or both! It really can help make the difference.
About the Author
Luke Phillips has always been a keen student of the natural world. When studying zoology at Liverpool John Moores University, he was surprised to find the Loch Ness Monster referenced in the first lecture he attended, as an anecdote about what could be out there. But even before then, having spent time on the shores of Nessie’s home as a young boy, and with a keen imagination fuelled by creature features glimpsed through childhood fingers covering his eyes, his interest in myths and monsters was evident from an early age.
He lives in the county of Kent in the UK, and was always encouraged to write by teachers and readers alike. The Daughters of the Darkness is his second novel.
THOMAS WALKER WILL RETURN IN
PHANTOM BEAST
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The Daughters of the Darkness Page 36