Shady Lady (Corine Solomon #3)

Shady Lady (Corine Solomon #3) Page 23

Kel leveled an assessing look on me. “Don’t you want breakfast?”

“Not really.”

“Eat,” he insisted. “And take some water.”

God save me. Well, since he had to know more about this stuff than I did, I obeyed, downing a protein bar and some water from the canteen. “How are our supplies holding out?”

Finding clean water was going to be a concern if we went much deeper. Already I had no clue where we were, other than surrounded by wild animals and heavy green trees. I trusted Kel to guide us in, and he’d have to get us out again. If I focused on how isolated we were, how much danger stalked our every move, I’d freeze into a womanshaped lump.

“We have one more day, if we’re careful.”

Shit. I sweated like mad in this wet heat, which led to dehydration. “There are plants you can cut open, right? I’ve seen a few survival shows.”

He nodded. “I’ll look as we go.”

“Have you had anything today?”

“I can go without.” His tone made it clear the point was not up for discussion, and as I didn’t know his personal limits, he could judge that for himself. He wasn’t human. Not human. I couldn’t afford to forget that, no matter how his secrets drew me.

“I’m guessing the river is the serpent. I think we should follow it for a day. ‘Fire eating the sky’ sounds like sunset to me, and I’d say the hollow is a valley.”

“The lady’s hollow.”

“We’ll have to watch for a marker of some kind once we leave the river. Maybe you can go up and take a look around.” God, this was so far outside my usual purview it wasn’t even funny.

He gazed up at the canopy. “I can free-climb.”

“Then let’s go.”

And we headed deeper into the jungle.

Where Fire Eats the Sky

The river wound in slow undulations like a snake, bearing out my hypothesis about our path. Scarlet macaws and wild yellow-ridged toucans watched from the trees. As we walked, I kept an eye on the rippling water, watching for anacondas. It could also be alligators, I supposed, though that didn’t improve the situation.

Shannon liked to watch the nature channels, so after she moved in, I got cable TV. While I was okay living in the Dark Ages, I wanted more for her, knowing she’d grown up in Kilmer; I understood all too well what that was like. We’d seen a show one afternoon last month about how alligators stalked their prey, watching from beneath the murky water and learning their habits. Sometimes they would take days about it and then strike when the hapless campers were bathing or drawing water. I never dreamt I’d find myself in a situation like this one, where facts gleaned on Animal Planet could be useful. Unfortunately, it was also terrifying.

A few times I started at some small amphibian hopping in or out of the river.

Pygmy marmosets chattered in the trees. As long as they were around, I knew we didn’t have to worry about hunting cats . . . jaguars and ocelots mostly. If the monkeys scrambled away, we needed to worry. Along the route, I saw a capybara rump in distant undergrowth, but it lumbered away from us as only a giant rodent could. By clinging to the river’s edge, we avoided a lot of the need to cut our way through the jungle. Still, Kel had to swing the machete now and then. It would be easier if we had a boat, but that offered other risks.

By midday—or what I guessed was midday—my clothes stuck to my skin, sodden with sweat, and my whole body felt like fungus grew out of every pore. We paused for food and drink. Wading in the water would cool me off, but walking in wet clothes afterward sounded hellish, and I didn’t feel sanguine about stripping.

As I weighed the pros and cons, a weird cry rang out and then a creature launched from the branches above. I caught only a glimpse of striped, spotted dun fur, and I scrambled backward. My arms windmilled and I tumbled into the river. Kel called out, but the current snagged me and knocked me off my feet. Fear of what lurked beneath the surface had me thrashing wildly before reason reasserted itself. Sailing along, I assessed my predicament.

I’d managed to get farther from land with the flailing, so I oriented myself and tried not to think about piranhas. On Animal Planet, I’d also watched a special about how struggling, injured prey incited their feeding frenzy. Smooth, strong movements. Show no fear, no weakness. That mantra in mind, I angled toward shore, though I sped along faster than I liked. The river pulled against me, but I swam until my arms burned and my thighs hurt, concentrating on keeping my head above water. I passed a fallen tree and skinned my hands grabbing onto it. Using it as leverage I pulled myself into the shallows, where I could crawl back onto the banks. The ground was slippery with mud and moss, but I just lay down and flopped over onto my back. My breath came in heavy gulps. Christ, I’d never liked swimming in lakes or rivers, where the water was dark and muddy. I preferred the ocean.

I heard footsteps, and then Kel loomed over me. “I was right behind you.”

“Good to know.” But I was proud; I’d handled the situation without screaming, no helplessness. This success set a strong precedent for the challenges to come.

“You might want to rinse your hair.”

Well, yeah. It had all kinds of crud in it—dead leaves, bugs, moss, fungus, and mud—from my sojourn on the bank. By comparison even river water sounded fantastic. I took his proffered hand and felt a pinch as I stood; there was something on my stomach. Now that the terror had subsided to manageable levels, I felt the pressure. A shudder rolled through me.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, don’t look—

I raised my shirt and looked. A flat gray-black blob stuck to my skin. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“It’s a leech. You likely stirred it when you crawled past the dead tree.”

With some effort, I spoke through clenched teeth. “Get it off.”

Get it off, get it off, get it off. Some people feared insects; spiders and snakes topped the list for others. For me, it was any water-dwelling critter that lacked arms, legs, or fins, which encompassed a large spectrum of creepy crawlies.

His tone was so soothing that I wanted to punch him. “If we attempt to remove it, there’s some risk it’ll vomit into the wound and you’ll get an infection. Since we don’t have many medical supplies, it’s better to let it eat.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Come. Stand by the water. When it’s done, it’ll drop off.”

In movies, they put salt or fire on it and the thing shriveled up. But we didn’t have either one, and I didn’t want him taking a knife to me. I let him lead me, but tears slid down my cheeks. Escobar hadn’t been kidding when he said my courage would be tested. I stood still, teetering on the edge of a complete meltdown.

With a gentleness I didn’t expect, at least not for me, Kel took down my braids and used a long leaf to scoop up water to rinse my hair. In time, his methodical movements took my mind off the thing drinking my blood. His care reminded me of the way monkeys groomed one another; I’d watched that on Animal Planet with Shannon too. I wondered how she was, whether she was helping Eva, and if they were petting Butch enough.

“This too shall pass.” My mother had murmured that to comfort me when times got bad.

His hands stilled. “Do you know the story behind those words?”

“I don’t think so.”

“King Solomon wanted to humble one of his ministers, so he sent him to find a magic ring, giving him six months to do so. Solomon told the man it held the power to fill a happy man with sorrow and cheer a woeful man. The king knew the man would never find it, because it didn’t exist, but failure would temper his arrogance. The adviser searched everywhere, and on the day before he must concede the loss, he passed through the poorest part of Jerusalem. On impulse, he asked a merchant if he had heard of such an item. In answer, the old man gave him a ring engraved with the simple phrase in Hebrew, ‘This too shall pass.’ ”

By the time he finished, so had the leech. It fell off my body and splooshed into the river, presumably returning to the dead tree. I had a small wound on my stomach, trickling blood, but it wasn’t as big as I expected. I exhaled unsteadily.

Another King Solomon story. I was too tired to protest that it was a common saying. After everything that had happened, I had no energy to spare wondering about my bloodlines or my destiny; no matter what else, I liked the cleverness of the fable. A happy man, reading such, remembered that pleasure was fleeting; a sorrowful man recalled that no pain lasted forever. I needed that reminder.

Since I was wet from head to toe, walking would be a misery henceforth, because the humid air wouldn’t allow me to dry out. I had to smell disgusting. But he wasn’t done with me. He stripped off his shirt, dipped the clean end in the river, and used it to wash my face. Beneath his care, I felt vulnerable.

Wordlessly, I braided my hair into a single plait. He froze then. For the first time, his expression told me clearly what he felt. Fear. Likely I didn’t want to know what could scare him.

I asked anyway. “What?”

In answer he indicated my throat; my palm rose to investigate. No pendant. No protection. The next time Montoya’s sorcerer sought, he’d find me. Wonderful, so it really would be like The Amazing Race. But we were far enough out here that his men would have a hell of a time catching up. Sendings and summonings were different, and I didn’t have a Tri-P—one of Shannon’s portable protection packs—on me, but even if I’d had the foresight to make one in the village, the river dunking would’ve rendered it ineffectual. I was so screwed.

“That just raised the stakes,” Kel said.

No longer could we consider this a challenge without outside antagonists.

“We’ll just have to push harder.” Which meant running through our dwindling supplies faster. “You know how to survive in hostile conditions, right?”

His expression said I probably should’ve asked him that before I chose him for this job. As if I’d had an opportunity. “Try not to worry. Just keep moving.”

Apart from that one ocelot, the wildlife mostly left us alone, as if Kel emitted a low-grade signal that warned them away. Partway, rain blasted through the leaves like a watery blanket. It was a sudden, fierce shower that left us drenched but did nothing to cool the air. We walked until fire ate the sky. At that point, the river bent right, which I thought was east, but I wasn’t sure anymore.

“I think this is where you head up.”

He nodded. “Watch the packs.”

It wasn’t until he started climbing that I got nervous. As long as I’d been moving and not thinking—and frankly, I was almost too tired to do more than put one foot in front of the other—I could quiet my mind. Now that it was just the jungle sounds and me, fear strolled in, hand in hand with visceral exhaustion. I slumped against the tree trunk while keeping an eye out for reptiles and unfriendly amphibians. I retained the good sense not to call out, though it was tough.

An eternity later, he dropped from the lowest branches. “We need to cut west, away from the river. A tall pile of stones marks the way.”