Island Tango (Silver Goddess Series, Book One) (10 page)

“The mixture!  The herbs and spices!” He said, exasperated.

“What are you talking about?  What herbs and spices?”

“The same herbs and spices that the Silver Goddess blends in her wine every day.  The same herbs and spices that made me immortal when I drank the wine with her. The same herbs and spices that I put in your mango juice so you will be immortal with me!
  That’s why you can’t go after the Silver Goddess now!  No other woman is allowed on the island.  Now that you are immortal, and my lover, she will see you as her enemy and try to harm you!  I only told you about her back in San Francisco to see what your reaction was.  All along, I knew that I would make you immortal once I could get you alone here in Brazil.
”

Herculea flinched and
gasped audibly
.  Indignant tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked to prevent them from rolling down her cheeks.

“So, you fixed some kind of a diabolical potion and presented it as an innocent glass of juice?  And that witch’s brew has now made me immortal?
  Is that what you are saying?”

Herculea knew the answers to her questions, but she asked them anyway.
  She had to hear him admit it. 
Instead of a verbal reply, Pedro merely nodded his head affirmatively.  His eyes remained fixated on the book.  She had to get out of there somehow. But not without that book.

Trying not to raise Pedro’s suspicions, Herculea walked casually over to the table and picked up the book.  She caressed the dusty front cover and examined the weak binding.  The book was a relic
and
obviously falling apart.  Herculea would have to be very careful with it and manage to get it back to the hotel in one piece.  She could not afford to
lose a single page of the book. 
The lettering on the cover looked back at her mockingly
.

He looked over at her solemnly and spoke.  “Be careful wi
th that book.  It is very old.
”

“
Why is it so important to you
?” Herculea prodded.

Suddenly, Pedro looked at her in alarm, as though reading her mind.  Instantly, Herculea knew that she had gone too far.  He would not answer any more of her questions, at
least not truthfully.  A
s he
took long strides
towards the table, Herculea pressed the book to her heart and bolted for the door.  Herculea had trained athletically for nearly all of her 36 years, and she felt confident that she could outrun most adults.  Perhaps she wouldn’t be able to speed past a marathon runner, but Pedro was certainly not a marathon runner. 
Nearly a decade younger than he was
, she had stamina on her side
. 
In a cold sweat, she reached the front door and pulled it open, running breathlessly
outside
.  She could hear Pedr
o’s heavy footsteps behind her.

She ran onto
the deserted dirt road.  All she could see were hills and mountains in the distance.  Without pausing to get her bearings, Herculea ran west, in the direction where the sun was starting to set in earnest now.  She dared to toss one look over her shoulder and could make out Pedro’s figure still chasing after her.  If she maintained her speed, he would never catch up to her.  Her lungs
struggled
to take in more oxygen and her heart
beat
like a steel drum.

Ignoring her physical discomfort, Herculea accelerated her pace and braced herself
for a
steep hill.  Ready to faint by the time she reached the hill’s summit, Herculea sighed with
mild
relief when she surveyed her surroundings.  Cars and trucks cruised by on the paved road.  A little soda shop stood at the corner.  Pedestrians walked by with grocery bags in their arms. 
Signs of civilization.

An elderly woman in a pleated skirt and rose blouse passed Herculea on the street.  Carrying a loaf of bread in her arms, she gave Herculea a peculiar, almost disapproving look.  Herculea glanced down at her dress and
saw it was
dirty and grass-stained.  There was even
a slight tear
at the hem
.  In the next instant, Herculea also realized that she was carrying nothing
but the book
.  She always kept her cell phone on her person, but
it was
missing.  Wr
acking her brain and retracing the events of the day, she came to the conclusion that she had carelessly left
it
in the hotel room.  Why had she let Pedro lead her astray?  She should have had a relaxing breakfast with Kent and then set off on her own for the rest of the day.

Trying not to panic, Herculea looked around for a
friendly
face.  In her tattered condition, who would want to help her?  Herculea walked a few more blocks, contemplating her limited options.  As she approached a red light, a truck screech
ed
to a halt.  It was a livestock truck that carried several cages of chickens in the back.  If Herculea hurried, she calculated that she could jump onto the back of the truck
before the light turned green.

Darting into the street, Herculea clung to the bumper and took a
powerful leap
onto the truck as her skirt lifted to her stomach in the early evening breeze.  A young boy across the street whistled appreciatively, but she didn’t hear him.  All she could hear was the drone of the engine and the incessant clucking of the hens.  She squeezed herself onto a makeshift seat and rode along next to the cages.

The truck traveled for countless miles as Herculea scanned the scenery for familiar sites.  It would not be likely that this farm vehicle would
stop
in Rio de Janeiro, but Herculea hoped it would at least pass through en route to another rural region.  That way she could jump off and somehow find her way back to the hotel.

Queasy after hours of riding on the back of the truck, Herculea looked up hopefully. 
For the first time since embarking on her ill fated trip to Brazil, Herculea felt that the stars had aligned for her.  The truck rolled past a busy boulevard in Rio that Herculea recalled seeing on the taxi ride from the airport.  She estimated that the hotel was about a mile away.

Heart pounding, Herculea clenched her fists, hoping desperately
that the truck would stop
.  But the truck sailed through several green lights and seemed to actually pick up speed.  The chickens flapped their wings in the cages, causing feathers to fly into the air and whip Herculea in the mouth.  Fighting back tears, Herculea realized that she might have to jump from a moving vehicle.  Either that or she would risk getting off the beaten trail and becoming completely lost.  Pedro’s insolent command, “Get lost with me” echoed bitterly in her mind.  Soon, it would be dark
,
and she could not gamble with her safety.  To be alone, half-dressed and filthy, in a foreign city with no money, identification, or phone would be far more perilous than leaping from a moving vehicle.

Mercifully, the truck began to slow down as it approached a yield sign.  Herculea knew the truck would likely not come to a complete stop, so as it rolled along steadily, she gathered all the courage she had within her and 
sprang
to the ground.

Landing on her buttocks on the concrete, Herculea scraped her
elbow
, causing the book to eject from her arms and land in the middle of the road.  She braced herself to stand, trying to get her balance, wiping the filthy gravel off her skin.  The ample flesh of her buttocks had prevented serious injury, but her lower back felt sore from the impact.  Loose gravel dug into her bare flesh, but she ignored it, running into the street and grabbing the book.  It appeared to be in tact, although its cover was now covered in dirt rather than dust. As she made her way to the curb, a drop of blood from her arm smeared onto the book.

“Damn it.” Herculea rubbed the book, but only succeeded in setting the blood stain rather than wiping it off.

Rio de Janeiro was beginning to hum with nightlife.
  B
right street lights and an eggshell white crescent moon
replaced the sun
.  Reminding herself that all she had was her ingenuity, Herculea surveyed the surroundings and tried to conjure up an image of the hotel.  The bustling bistro across the street looked completely unfamiliar, as did the three story bookstore to the left.  But when she looked beyond the bistro, Herculea could see an intersection that looked as though it could lead to the tourist area of the city where her hotel was situated.  Following her instinct, Herculea hobbled towards the intersection, immediately recognizing the boulevard she had seen from the back of the truck.

Herculea walked briskly towards the hot
el, ignoring the stinging pain i
n her
elbow
and dull ache in her lower back.  She felt fortunate to have escaped any debilitating injury after leaping from that truck.  Pedro may have made her immortal, but
harm could still
befall her.  She grimaced in fear and anger, thinking of how atrociously he had violated her.  There had to be some way to reverse the curse, and she would not return to California until she found it.

Nearly fainting with relief, Herculea emerged from her thoughts to find the hotel right before her eyes.  The building looked warm and comforting.  The thought of reuniting with her few belongings and seeing Kent again
filled
Herculea with gratitude.  She ran into the lobby, dodging the spot where Pedro had accosted her that morning and rushing to the elevator.

When she reached her floor, Herculea bolted out of the elevator and strode directly to Kent’s room.  Her hand trembled as she knocked on the door.  There was no answer.  Herculea knocked again.  And again.  After a few minutes of waiting for Kent to answer, she accepted the fact that he wasn’t there and walked, shoulders slumped, across the hall to her room.

Tossing her key card onto the desk, Herculea noticed that her cell phone was blinking.  There was no message from Kent.  But there was one from Pedro.  Herculea fought her impulse to delete the text message without reading it.  As she read his words, a new chill ran down her spine.

“Herculea, this separation is temporary.  I have all the time in the world.  And now, so do you.”

Herculea screamed indignantly, hurling the phone onto the bed and shoving it under the pillow.  How dare he?  The deception Pedro had committed against her was unfathomable.  But not as unfathomable as the concept of immortality, Herculea thought.   This trip had beg
un as an impromptu
research assignment that would hopefully yield her a bestseller in her field.  But after a devastating
twenty four
hours, the trip had morphed into a quest to reclaim her life and break the spell of immortality.

Tears stung Herculea’s eyes as she walked over to the bathroom.  Turning on the faucet to douse her wound, Herculea tried to devise a viable plan to reach the Island of Vinova.  She was certain that the island held the key to unlock this horrid curse and return her mortality.  Fuzzy ideas formed in her exhausted mind, and Herculea was certain of only one thing: She would not attempt this journey alone. 
She had rejected his help before.  But now, a
n ocean of pride could not stop Herculea from enlisting the help of her trusted friend, Kent.

*****

Starlight beamed into the dark, still room.  Breathing steadily, Herculea slept as a soft breeze from the open window poured in and enveloped her under the sheets.  Even in the middle of the night, the Brazilian heat did not rest, and the room felt damp.  The breeze caressed Herculea in her sleep, and she stirred in the bed, murmuring gently.

A heavy knock at the door instantly yanked Herculea from her peaceful state of slumber.  She jerked her body up and back against the pillows as her eyes flew open.  The knocking sounded again as she glanced at the wall clock.  It read 3:45 AM.  Herculea stiffened in the bed, fearing that Pedro was at the door.  Terrified, she listened intently and heard a shuffling sound at the doorknob.  Someone was trying to open the door!  The knocking resumed followed by a male voice.

“Herculea, are you in there?  Please answer if you are.”

Herculea scrambled out of bed, tears of relief flooding her sleepy eyes.  It was the unmistakably tender voice of Kent Rossing.  Not caring that she was dressed only in
pink
tee-shirt
,
she tore the door open and impulsively gave him an enormous hug.  Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed her face into his chest and resisted the urge to start sobbing.  Instead, she held onto him tightly, as he responded by folding her closer into his embrace and caressing her wild mass of raven hair.

“Are you OK
?  Where have you been?  I’ve been all over this city looking for you.” Kent said in a hoarse whisper as he pulled her even closer.

She looked up at him in confusion.  “You’ve been looking for me?  Why?” She asked.