Save The Pearls Part One

by Foyt, Victoria

  Rebecca?

  Eden hesitated, fighting a strong pull. It might be her only chance to discover the truth. And yet, what hope could she possibly offer?

  The seconds ticked by. Soon, the men would disappear in an impenetrable maze of jungle and she would lose her chance.

  Eden waved to her twin. I’ll be back with help.

  Then she latched the gate behind her and hurried after her unsuspecting guides.

  EDEN MAINTAINED a safe distance from Lorenzo and Charlie, as they wound their way down the mountainside. If they discovered her, she feared they’d return her to camp. She tried to keep an eye on the palm nut that bobbed from the end of Charlie’s blowgun. Like a game, Eden. But she wasn’t having any fun.

  Her bare feet tripped over piles of vines and sank into the muddy ground. The long dress hampered her movements. She slapped away swarms of insects, stifling the impulse to scream.

  The brothers wove in and out of the shadows, disappearing at heart-stopping intervals. Each time she lost sight of them, she panicked. The jungle closed in around her. Anything might happen.

  When she stepped on a dry twig, it snapped in half. To her ears, it sounded like an avalanche. Her guides came to an abrupt halt. Eden ducked behind a cluster of huge, sappy leaves. Through a small gap, she saw the men fan apart, their eyes searching. Lorenzo held his machete ready, while Charlie reached into his quiver.

  What if they mistook her for prey? For Earth’s sake, with her blond hair and pale skin, Eden presented a bull’s-eye target in the dark forest. She felt faint as she imagined a poison dart sailing straight to her heart.

  She inched back against the tree trunk. She could almost hear the warriors’ steady breathing, wafting through the moist air to reach her feverish cheek. Somehow, she knew they had located her position. Deep inside, she had a heightened feeling, as if she also had sprung a finely tuned antenna like Bramford. Eden, a she-cat?

  A scratchy sound from above her head distracted her. Heavenly Earth, a swarm of stout ants marched down the tree trunk. Why hadn’t her newfangled instincts warned her that it was a cecropia tree? Bullet ants, Paraponera clavata, took shelter in its hollow trunk in exchange for warding off intruders—like her.

  Eden recalled the dreaded nickname: twenty-four-hour ants. That’s how long the pain from a sting could last. In fact, in order to become a warrior, a young Indian boy had to survive the sting of dozens of them at once. Not everyone passed the cruel initiation. And neither would she.

  Wasn’t she full of useful tidbits?

  The black mass of ants advanced in lockstep towards her neck and shoulders. She could either die from waves of burning pain or a quick, lethal dart. Sweat trickled down her face, as she considered her dismal options. Decide, Eden.

  She waved her hand, hoping for a truce.

  Nothing happened.

  Just in time, Eden jumped away from the tree trunk. But she had escaped one deadly fate, only to be met by another. Lorenzo and Charlie were nowhere in sight. They probably had decided that the odd, hidden creature was no threat and moved on.

  She looked around, anxiously debating which route to take, when an azure-hooded jay swooped in front of her. The blaring cry of the Cyanolyca cucullata sounded an alarm that sent Eden running.

  Long tendrils reached out to grab her like the bony fingers of a giant, green monster. They knotted into her long, oak-colored hair. Trembling, Eden tore at the shoots and pressed forward, only to feel the clawing tentacles quickly smother her again. She was a small offering walking into the forest’s hungry mouth. Feed me, little Pearl.

  The idea of Rebecca strolling through the dangerous terrain accompanied by her animal protector now seemed laughable. For Earth’s sake, Eden should have stayed where she belonged—safe inside the tunnels or even in a flimsy hut. Aunt Emily had been a recluse for good reason.

  Eden glanced over her shoulder, wondering if she should turn back. But there was no clear path, and she pictured herself wandering in circles. Sick with fear, she pushed deeper into the forest, searching for the men.

  Tears of relief sprang to her eyes, as she caught sight of Lorenzo and Charlie crossing a boggy marsh. Eden crouched low, studying their graceful steps across a log that spanned the brackish water. They quickly reached the other side and, once more, slipped into the flickering shadows.

  Easy, right? But then, the Huaorani weren’t terrified of water. Eden just couldn’t think about that now. She had no choice but to try.

  She took a deep breath and stepped to the edge of the pond. A little blue heron on a craggy rock seemed to egg her on with its snapping sound. You can do it, Eden. Unlike the generous Egretta caerulea, a colony of ugly, gold-striped frogs croaked ominously. Probably about the disastrous spill she would take.

  Better crawl, Eden decided, tucking the hem of her impractical dress into the waistband. She knelt onto the log and inched forward with a tight grip. Her knees hurt from the rough surface; splinters lodged in her skin.

  The frogs’ throats bulged with incandescent lights as they bellowed. The gruff sounds of Lithodytes lineatus played like a competitive roundelay. Probably laying bets on how long it would take before the white creature fell into the mucky mess they called home.

  Never mind.

  Eden focused on the next step and then the next, aware of each passing minute. Halfway across, she raised her head, straining for a sign of the brothers. In that instant she lost her balance, one leg sliding into the slimy bog. The water gobbled up her skirt, which grew heavy around her leg. She kicked against the water, desperate to hoist herself back on top of the log. But her hold slipped, and she fell off with a loud shriek. A riot of victorious croaks filled the air.

  At least the shallow water only reached her waistline. Eden grabbed for the log but it bobbed out of reach. She’d never make it across, anyway. She had no choice but to wade to the other side of the marsh, a few yards away.

  She slowly moved through the warm, sticky water, trying not to think of a crocodile or a snake lurking below, eager to strike her bright white legs. But huge, untamable fear welled up in her. She couldn’t even pretend this was a bad experience on the World-Band. Too late, she understood that hope and courage weakened denial.

  At last, Eden crawled onto dry ground, her chest heaving. She stumbled to her feet, a lump in her throat. Her guides were gone again.

  Pell-mell, she plunged into the forest. Sunlight glinted through the upper canopy at a more oblique angle. A half hour had passed, she guessed. How much ground could they have covered in that time? Perhaps enough that she would never find them.

  “Lorenzo, Charlie!” Eden cried out, only hoping they would drag her back to camp.

  She passed a broken branch still oozing sap, and hesitated. This way. She told herself she would see the palm nut dangling from Lorenzo’s blowgun any minute now.

  Again, she shouted her friends’ names, desperate for a response. Instead, the thunderous cries of howler monkeys beat the air.

  “Help!” Eden screamed, her voice lost in the din.

  Blind with tears, she tripped ahead. Through a thicket of teak trees, she spied an opening of stark light. She veered towards it, wild with hope. She could hardly believe her good luck when she burst onto a riverbank. The small tributary might lead her to the mighty Amazon River and an Indian camp.

  A breeze lifted off the dark green river, offering Eden a cool respite from the scorching heat. Dazzling sunshine lit the narrow embankment and danced upon the lazy water. She walked downstream, hugging the shaded rim of trees.

  To avoid the blinding contrast with the sun-baked ground, she lowered her gaze. Blue eyes refracted more light against the back of the cornea than dark eyes, she recalled. One more reason why she didn’t belong there.

  Nearby, the sound of the howlers intensified. Eden pressed her temples, which throbbed from the terrific noise. Were they following her? Was it possible they were trying to warn her of something? That would explain the strange, niggling feeling in h
er gut.

  Don’t be ridiculous, Eden. It was only a cartload of howling monkeys.

  Just then she tripped headlong to the ground.

  But why didn’t she feel the sandy shore beneath her?

  Instead, something cold and rubbery slithered around her.

  A giant monster had broken her fall.

  Oh, Holy Mother Earth.

  Eden was caught in the grip of an anaconda.

  Immediately, the howlers’ cries stopped. And her curdling scream rose up into the sudden, sharp silence.

  EDEN QUICKLY ticked off the cold, horrible facts about Eunectes murinus. The anaconda was at least eight feet long and weighed around two hundred pounds—probably a male. A female would have been twice as long and heavier. Not that it mattered. The male would kill her just as well.

  Inch by inch, the water snake, as the name anaconda translated, would constrict its muscular body round her, rolling her into the loop of its tail like a present tied with a bow. The painful process would last about three or four minutes. An easy day’s work.

  When Eden was nice and dead, the hungry snake would swallow her whole. Its teeth angled backwards, the better to ratchet her into its gullet. She often had marveled at its efficient killing design during her research. Of course she never imagined she would experience it firsthand.

  Funny, how life could surprise you. She didn’t know half as much as she thought she did.

  Eden lay on her back, one leg caught in the anaconda’s tail. Snatches of forest, then a patch of sky whirled overhead, as the snake flipped her over. Just as she feared, it began to roll its long body around her. Desperate, she clawed at the ground, trying to squirm away. She used her free leg to kick sand at the giant reptile. It seemed to sneer at her useless efforts and twisted her closer, trapping all of her limbs.

  Already, she could feel the rhythmic pulsing of its muscles around her torso, as it tightened its hold on her. Her death certificate would read, suffocation by anaconda. But then, no one would ever know what happened to Eden Newman. Her death would be as invisible as her life had been. How appropriate.

  The seconds slid in seeming slow motion towards a final count like bright colored balls on an ancient abacus banging together with a loud click! Soon, she expected to hear the brittle cracking of bones.

  Wouldn’t Father be fascinated to see a live anaconda? But no, what was she thinking? He cared deeply for her and would be horrified. Her unexpected insight upset her almost as much as her grisly predicament. She’d gotten it all wrong.

  What if she had misjudged Bramford, too?

  Eden didn’t know which hurt worse, the searing pain that spread through her body or the deep feelings of regret. The memory of Bramford’s open gaze flashed in her mind. Why had she ruined their connection by calling for Rebecca? Now she would never have the chance to show him what was in her heart.

  At least she would leave this earth knowing she had experienced one true thing in her life.

  The monster jerked Eden sideways, draging her towards the river. The short journey would stall the constriction process—a reprieve of maybe a minute. Hopefully, she would drown as soon as she hit the water. Small mercies.

  Black inkiness dripped behind her eyes. She couldn’t fight the paralyzing slide into darkness any longer.

  Sleep, Eden.

  Then, for some reason, the anaconda stopped moving. In a daze, Eden forced her eyes open. The snake’s head pointed towards the jungle. What was it waiting for?

  Eden heard feverish birdcalls in the distance. They bounced closer and closer, as if the birds passed a baton of terror down the jungle route. Dozens of small animals scampered in the undergrowth. The ground began to shake. Dear Earth, something was coming.

  Eden didn’t know what to wish for.

  A flock of green parrots ringed the trees, crying out like spectators in a coliseum. Just then a furious roar ripped through the air. Eden’s heart leapt as an awesome gladiator burst into view: the Jaguar Man.

  He had come for her. I’m watching you, Eden.

  Bramford sprang forward, snarling. His feral eyes flared. His brow pressed in fierce concentration. His muscles rippled, as he attacked the anaconda faster than her dulled senses could follow.

  Oh, he was magnificent.

  The anaconda whipped its long tail into an upright S shape, flinging Eden free. She landed in the water and slapped at the surface, fighting to stay afloat. Her rubbery limbs tingled pins and needles as oxygen flowed back into them. She could barely breathe from the pain in her lungs. Her feet paddled fast, but once again, the dress weighed her down.

  Through slashes of water and swirling sand, Eden caught scenes of a gruesome battle. Intertwined, the Giant Reptile and Jaguar Man fought to the death. The anaconda’s tail beat the water like a drummer keeping time as it writhed and twisted. Green and brown scales glistened in spots of sunlight. Bramford held it by its throat with one hand while he pummeled the top of its head with the other. The snake’s snapping jaw lunged for his heart.

  “No!” Eden screamed.

  Bramford shot her a look and, in that second, lost his advantage. The enraged anaconda caught his free hand in its teeth. Bramford doubled over with a sick roar. She felt his pain as if it were her own.

  Your fault—do something, Eden!

  She locked her limbs round the snake’s long tail when it came down beside her. The snake dunked her underwater then swung her high into the air. Her heart was in her throat, but she dug her nails into the leathery skin and held tight.

  Too briefly, she locked eyes with Bramford and felt the thrill of a powerful connection. She wasn’t imagining it. They were allies, if only in their fight to survive.

  Bramford also seemed to gain strength from their new-found bond. The brilliant fury of his roar electrified the air. Eden watched in amazement as he thrust his captured arm deeper into his foe’s jaws. Only man wielded such counterintuitive intelligence, she thought proudly.

  And it worked.

  The anaconda flung open its jaws with a gagging sound. Bramford was free. In a blur, he butted his head between the snake’s eyes and it fell into a heap. Its thrashing tail grew still. The reptilian giant fell into the river, pulling Eden down with it.

  Her chin jutted above the water, as she took one last look at her savior. Crumbled on the shore, he bent over his wounded arm, oblivious to her distress. She sputtered a small squeal, water seeping into her mouth. The river closed around her, shutting off the world with a deafening sound.

  Eden struggled to reach the surface but it kept moving farther away. With a sickening feeling, she realized she was caught under the dead snake, sinking towards a watery grave.

  Her heart pleaded. Bramford, help. Was it her growing intuition or the certainty of their connection that told Eden he had heard her?

  And yet, quiet darkness closed around her. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind grew numb. This is it, she thought, as the world disappeared in a soft, quiet rush.

  From far away, Eden registered something grabbing hold of her. Then a bewildering rush of air hit her face. She wondered at the sound of her name.

  Bramford was calling her, she realized.

  “Eden! Wake up, Eden!”

  She felt a hard slap against her cheek. Solid ground beneath her. Her body, alive. Her eyes blinked open. Bramford pressed his hands onto her stomach, over and over, until she coughed up water.

  Her Jaguar Man had saved her once again. Contentment filled her as she pillowed her head against his heaving chest. She breathed in his musky scent and felt a lovely lift, as if a bird were trilling inside the top of her head.

  What else did she need in life besides the warmth of his body next to hers? She was done with regrets. From now on, she would follow her heart. In fact, she would forgive the past and start fresh with Ronson Bramford.

  Eden licked tiny beads of water that clung to the hairs on his chest with the tip of her tongue. His full-throated rumbling sounded full of yearning. She threw her arms
around his neck with a little cry. Pulling her tight against his body, he groaned heavily.

  “I’m sorry, Bramford,” Eden whispered in his ear. “For everything.”

  His weary eyes lit up. “I understand.”

  She smiled at him, and for a long, blissful moment, his warm, open gaze was all for her. Once more, the Real Eden felt truly seen.

  Why had she ever wanted to leave this wonderful creature in the first place?

  EDEN CUDDLED closer to Bramford as a sharp pain knifed into her right side. Woozy, she reeled in his arms.

  His burlap voice softened with concern. “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head yes, then no. There beside him, she never had felt happier. Still, her body ached all over.

  Bramford wasn’t in much better shape, Eden realized. His eyes were shot with pain. His left hand, torn and bleeding from the snakebite, hung limp.

  For her, he’d risked his life. It made no sense, but it thrilled her all the same.

  Her savior crouched over her, examining her ribcage with his good hand. At his touch warmth pooled in her belly.

  “Here?” Bramford said, trailing her side.

  Eden grimaced. “Uh huh.”

  “You broke a few ribs. But you’ll live.”

  His gaze traveled down her wet dress. Plastered against her skin, it hid nothing. She felt shy as his eyes devoured her, inch by inch. He licked his lips and reached for the blue bow tied at her breast. Eden held still, though a storm rocked inside of her. His thick fingers brushed against her skin as he fumbled with the ribbon. She titled towards him with a little shiver. Inexplicably, Bramford jerked away, as if burned by a hot flame; his seductive expression turned hostile.

  “Where did you get that dress?” he demanded.

  Eden shrank back, perplexed. “Don’t you recognize it? It’s Rebecca’s.”

  He shot to his feet. She had a worm’s-eye view of his towering figure. The wet loincloth molded to his hips. Tousled hair fell down his shoulders. Fits of sand clung to the dark skin. Bramford was a wild, angry beast.