Nightshade (Discarded Heroes) (16 page)

Back in her Lexus, Sydney sat staring up at the third-floor apartment. The curtains parted, and the same young, dark face appeared. Anisia wanted to talk but wouldn’t. Was she scared?

First and only warning. Leave it alone
.

Her intestines churned, forming a knot. Had they threatened this family, too? The thought brought Sydney’s hand to her mouth. What would she do if the woman who’d survived brutalities in her uncivilized world came here—only to get killed? The thought forced her to start the car and leave. She certainly didn’t want to cause anyone more pain.

Yet her mind dragged back to Anisia’s son. He’d obviously seen the intervention as well. Maybe she could find a way to talk to him. No. He likely spoke no better English than his mother.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she’d not eaten in several hours. With the baby, she’d inhaled more calories in the last few months than she probably had all year. Wouldn’t Max get a kick—

She choked back the thought and pulled into a Mexican fast-food place. Order placed, she eased her car forward and waited for the food. Her cell phone spewed the country song into the air. Sydney dug through her purse and located the vibrating device. “Hello?”

“How’d the interview go?”

“Hi, Lane. I’m fine.” She giggled. “How’re you?”

“Touché. Sorry. I deserved that.”

“Yes,” she said as the bag of preservatives-carbs-calories-laden food passed through the window to her. “Thank you,” she said to the worker and left the restaurant.

“Where are you?”

“About two hours out.”

“No. I meant the restaurant. Are you eating fast food?”

Guilty pleasure lapped at her hunger. “Yeah, I am. I’m starving.” As she steered the car onto the highway, she rummaged in the bag for the first burrito and took a bite. “It’s wonderful, too.” She let out a soft moan. “Oh man, I’m hungry.”

“You never eat fast food!”

“Well …” She swallowed the mouthful of beans, beef, and cheese—and her pride. She hadn’t told Lane about the baby. And probably wouldn’t until it was impossible to hide because it’d only bring up sympathy or Max. Neither of which she wanted. “Call me desperate. So, you asked about Anisia. Total bomb out.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Her aunt insisted there was a mistake, that nothing of the sort had happened.”

Lane was oddly silent.

“I don’t buy it, though,” she said, wolfing another bite and talking around the food.

“Good, but what makes you certain?”

“Her son drew a picture of a sword and five-pointed star. It looked just like what Mangeni described in her interview.”

“So you think they’re connected?”

Sipping her water, she finally—fully—embraced the idea. “Have to be. And I think someone wants it kept silent. Anisia looked terrified when I saw her. Then you factor in the threatening phone call I got earlier, and I can’t see how they
aren’t
connected.”

“Wait. The
what
you got earlier?”

Boop-boop. Boop-boop
. Sydney glanced at her phone face. Saved by the mom. “Oh! Lane, my mom is calling. I better take this.” She quickly ended the call and switched over. “Hello? Mom?”

“Hi, sweetheart. How’re you doing? Did you get to see the doctor?”

“I did.” She looked at the second burrito, one bite removed, and felt nausea sweep her. Had she really eaten an entire, nasty, fast-food burrito? Ugh! She dropped it in the bag and wiped her hand on an imprinted napkin. “Everything looks fine, Mom. He listened to the heartbeat and examined me.”

“Did he give you a due date?”

“He did.” She gripped the wheel tightly and drew in a breath. “June first.” Max’s birthday. Could the timing be any crueler?

“Oh, sweetie,” came the long, sigh-breathed near apology. “Do you know what the sex is?”

“I have another appointment in a month for an ultrasound.”

“I’m just so excited about this baby. My baby girl having a baby! It’s so wonderful. I mean, I know things weren’t planned, but why don’t we go shopping tomorrow for some maternity clothes and baby things? That’ll be fun.” Her mom’s chipper voice grated against her.

It wasn’t that her mother was insensitive, but Sydney didn’t feel like celebrating. “My clothes are fine. I still haven’t had to let out the buttons yet, so I don’t want to go big until I really am.” Which would buy her some time at work. And with Buck. And Lane.

“Look, Sydney, this child is a precious gift—”

An eerie whistle rent the line.

“Ack!” Sydney yanked the phone away, cringing. Carefully, she tested the line to make sure it was gone. “Mom, what was that noise?”

A busy signal rattled her.

she pressed
END
and redialed. The phone rang and rang. No answering machine. Unease snaked around Sydney. A chill draped her shoulders. She tried again. Again. Adrenaline spiking, she dialed her brother.

“Hey.”

“Bryce, I think something’s wrong.”

Hours later

T
he viper dropped like a rope in front of him.
Thump!
It slithered and pulled itself into a coil. Jon stopped and flung out his hand to the side, protecting Kimber from stepping into the snake’s path. He eased the machete handle up and gripped it tightly between both hands. As he lifted the weapon up, the snake slithered closer.

Huddling a sleeping Maecel closer, Kimber’s quick intake of breath and the rustling of jungle litter as she took shelter behind him spurred him on. He had a family to protect!

Flexing his biceps, he hauled it up—

“No!” Datu’s snapped word slammed into Jon, who nearly stumbled forward as he tried to stop the inertia.

Regaining his footing, he looked at the chief’s son. “What do you mean, ‘no’? That thing can kill us. I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect my family.”

“If soldiers find carcass, they find us.”

The logic was flimsy, but a margin of truth remained in it.

“This way. We go this way. No kill snake.” Datu waved Kimber and the others to the side and around trees and bushes, avoiding the snake and apparent proof of their whereabouts.

Jon watched as the group filed single file in a wide arc. Something ate at him about the way Datu seemed so adamant about leaving no trail. They were in the middle of a dense tropical jungle on an island and hours away from any cities. What was he afraid would draw trouble? The smell of one snake’s rotting corpse?

With one last look at the banana-colored snake, he trudged behind the others. Maybe it was just exhaustion settling in that made him feel so edgy. Trust had never come easy to Jon, but eking out a living in a village with natives who were nothing like you—they bore the olive skin, dark eyes, and short stature of their lineage, and he bore his own blond hair, blue eyes, and near-basketball-player height—presented its own challenges, not unlike the ones he’d battled in Colorado and by not being a basketball player in a college of state champions. But here? Here he’d found happiness and peace. And a deeper level of trust in God’s sovereignty and ability to provide, always provide.

No, this concern wasn’t the result of his spiritual journey, the journey that restored him to his father—for the most part—and to God the Father, eventually bringing him here. A journey that proved to him that he didn’t deserve the love of those who’d become a part of his life. Kimber. Maecel.

Or maybe it was because of his spiritual walk. Perhaps this nagging was a warning. Of the supernatural kind.

Yeah. As the delicate realization took root in his gut, he grew to understand the guidance of the Holy Spirit in this instance. A sweet, soft voice never raised over the din of life’s chaos. A gentle word, a slow breeze.

Show me, God. What do You want me to see?

Almost instantly his eyes skimmed the dozen feet stretching between him and the last man in the group. Weeds bent and snapped. Grass and jungle litter crushed flat. A shrub’s branches broken. With a half dozen of them slogging up a hill, anyone with a brain could find the trail.

Pausing, Jon drew back. No, something wasn’t right. As a matter of fact, this was very wrong. They were heading much farther north than necessary. Getting up and away from the village made sense, but this route? Wasn’t this the way Igme had warned them about? The blue-streaked jungle warriors lived up this way, didn’t they? But as Kimber had asked—why? Why would Datu take them into the jaws of the lion?

He considered the man he’d allowed to lead them into the heart of darkness. What did he really know about Datu? He knew Igme, Datu’s father, well enough—a very reputable and honorable chief among those on the island. There wasn’t a clan or village that didn’t know Igme or his fair rule. When IHF first made contact and offered education and financial assistance, Igme had readily agreed. It had been an amazing experience for Jon to lead the man through the prayer of salvation.

Over the last two years of living with the clan, Jon had grown to love Igme, staying up late discussing matters within the village and outside. Even now he remembered the chief’s concern about his second-eldest son, Datu.

His soul wanders
. It was the only thing Igme had said of his second born. Not being the eldest and not having the blessing of his father yet, Datu had not been granted a seat during clan meetings. Jon had thought Datu had been a bit restless because of this, but was it more?

And where was Igme?

The thought stopped him cold. He pivoted, as if he could see through the miles of vegetation they’d already traversed and back to their village.

Only as he considered the chief’s son plodding uphill with confidence and determination did Jon realize there might be something more sinister at work. What if he was leading them to the Higanti for a specific purpose? But what? What would he …?

Jon’s stomach clenched as a thought took hold.
A trade
.

He locked his gaze on the slight form of Igme’s second-born. Had his soul wandered to the darkness? Jon’s thoughts swam as a sizable distance grew between him and the group.

“Jon?”

He looked up the incline, grateful to see Kimber slipping back through the ranks to him. Good, he could share his concerns with her.

From the front, Datu’s brow furrowed as he stared down at him.

“I’m right behind you,” Jon said, hoping to reassure the man and not draw attention to himself or his suspicions. As Kimber dropped behind with him, he nodded for her to start back up the incline. “Keep moving and listen.”

Her blue eyes widened. For a second, she seemed to study him, then nodded and hiked.

“Something’s not right,” Jon whispered.

Over her shoulder, she said, “I can sense it now, too.”

Relief flooded him at her simple words.

“What do we do?”

Several steps filled the gap as he tried to figure out the best way to effect his plan. “I’m going to fall back some and try to contact Peter to see—don’t turn around!”

She whipped back to the front, and he could see her arms automatically embrace the sling with their sleeping daughter. Still, he noticed the way her movements became mechanized, stiff.

“Try to act natural, Kimber. We need to buy as much time as we can.”

When the lead was enough that he felt Datu wouldn’t detect his actions, Jon eased the sat phone from his pocket. Holding it low, he scrolled to Peter Jordan’s information. Gaze bouncing to the others, he pressed
SEND
and watched the connection symbol, waiting for it to sync up. A second later, he stepped off the path and stood behind a tree. He tugged up the hood on his shirt and tucked his chin, eyes on the group.

The ringing tone sounded like a screeching monkey in his ear.

His pulse ratcheted.

The line picked up. Clanking. Had the phone been dropped.

“Hello? Jon, is that you?”

He pulled in closer to the tree. “Yes, Peter, it’s me.”

“Thank You, God! Jon, where are you? Did you miss your flight?”

“No. Yes.”

Peter laughed. “I know you weren’t ready to come back, but for pity’s—”

“Peter, listen! Things are bad. Kimber and I are on the run with Datu.”

“Igme’s son?” Peter’s voice hitched at the end.

“Yes. You have to send help. I think he’s taking us to the Higanti.”

“Hig—no! You can’t let him.” Strain cracked the jovial mood of Peter’s tone from seconds earlier. “Get out of there, Jon.
Now!
Oh, dear God, help me think!”

“Mauk overran the island. There’s nowhere else.” He peeked around the palm trunk—bamboo barreled at him.