The Immortal (10 page)

I AWOKE AT DAWN IN THE RUINS OF DELOS. I WAS LYING

propped up against an overturned pillar of chipped marble. All around me was the erosion of centuries.

My vision of the night before, of a city magically reborn from the past, was gone. I was alone and I was cold.

Yet I had the memory of my dream of Sryope still with me, and it was enough to make my blood pound.

I didn't know what any of it meant. I had no idea what was happening in my life. I wondered, briefly, if I was not losing my mind.

Especially when I saw the artifact standing on the low pillar beside me. It was a tiny marble statue of a goddess, about five inches tall. Rolling onto my knees, I reached over and picked it up. For an instant I felt the same magnetic current I had when I had leaned against one of the main supports of Apollo's temple. It

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went up my arm and into my head before stopping. The details of the face were few, but I was not misled.

"Sryope," I whispered.

I was holding a statue of the goddess in my dream.

Of all the things I could see around me in Delos, it was the only one that was not ruined by time. I didn't know where it had come from. I didn't know what to do with it. But I couldn't very well leave it for someone else to take. I stuffed it in my pocket and stood up.

There was a bright glow in the east, in the direction of Mykonos. But I could not see the sun because I was on the west side of the hills of Delos, in reality, not far from the museum and the living quarters. The previous night it had been my intent to go straight to the archaeologists and have them call my father. But now I was wary. It was morning, and I had been on the island half the night. They would wonder why I hadn't come to them immediately. I knew of the government's extreme fear that anyone should take anything from the sacred island. Of course, I was not a thief. I had come to the island by chance. I had nothing to hide.

Except the statue. I didn't want to give them Sryope. She belonged to me—I was the one dreaming about her. If I went to the archaeologists they would search me as a precautionary measure before they let me go. There was no way I was going to let them do that.

My next choice was simple. I would hurry back to where I had come ashore, set the boat adrift, and hide 115

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out on the southeast side until the tourists arrived. Then I could mingle with them and go home with the crowd with my goddess in my pocket.

I set off, back the way I had come during the night.

I didn't stop to ask myself why I was so anxious to hold on to my trophy. Certainly I wasn't thinking of stealing her for the purpose of trying to sell her. I just liked her, and—here I was showing definite signs of insanity—I thought she liked me, too.

The archaeologists, and whatever security Delos possessed, must have slept late. I got out of the main area of the ruins without difficulty. The hills were no obstacle for a girl who had beaten Poseidon, god of the seas, at his own game. The brand-new sun stung my eyes as I crested the stony summit. Kynthos shone orange on my right, and I almost paused to salute Apollo's birthplace. That the god had been born there, I no longer had any doubt, although I had no reason to believe Helen over Tom.

Tom.

The thought of him came to me then. But I refused to feel grief until I was sure he was dead. There was a chance, I told myself over and over, that he had made it to shore. He had clearly been a strong swimmer.

I made my way down to the shore and headed to the right, south, walking with my sandals splashing in the water. When I reached the spot where I was certain I had come ashore, I found my boat gone. I wasn't surprised. While I slept, the tide could easily have 116

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carried it back out to sea. Actually, the boat's not being there made my job easier because I had no intention of telling whoever was looking for me that I had spent the night on Delos. I had no desire to tell
anybody,
including my father, what I had seen there.

I sat down and rested. The walking had warmed me, and now, on this side of the island, with the sun shining on me, I was comfortable. I estimated the time at
ska
o'clock. The first tourists would arrive at about eight-thirty. Then I would be able to go over to the snack bar and get a cup of coffee and a Danish. The thought was divine.

My plan went as I envisioned, except I waited till nine before sneaking over the hill and joining the scurrying visitors, who could have been from all appearances the same group that had come to Delos the previous day. No one gave me a second look, although my green shorts and white top looked as if they had been put through a night of homeless-ness.

The snack bar was open and waiting for me. It was a shame that I hadn't a penny with me. Fortunately, the young Greek man at the counter recognized me from the day before and took pity on me and gave me coffee and a roll for free after I explained to him that I was broke. As I sat down, I thought about how Helen was wrong about the Greek people. They were gracious hosts.

After leaving the snack bar, I loitered around the 117

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museum. There was a mural on the wall that reminded me slightly of Sryope, but the artist had made her slightly masculine. I strolled around with my hands in my pockets so no one would realize I had something in them.

I didn't hike back to the top of Kythnos. I was tired and had had enough mystical experiences to last me for one vacation.

In reality, I truly did believe something odd might happen to me on Kythnos. For the time being I preferred to believe what was happening to me was a trauma-induced hallucination. There was logic in that.

But it didn't explain away the artifact I carried.

Where had it come from?

It was almost as if someone had left it for me to find while I slept.

But why?

I ran into a small hitch when I went to leave. By then it was noon and the second boat was docked at Delos. A man stood near the boarding ramp of the first boat checking the payment slips so that, I suppose, someone could not leave early on a boat they hadn't come over on. But I just smiled sweetly and told the guy I had lost my slip, and I was waved through.

The ride back to Mykonos took the usual twenty-five minutes, but it seemed an eternity. As we entered the harbor of Hora, I was glad to see my father and Silk standing on the dock. Regrettably, they were 118

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talking to what looked like two police officers. I couldn't get off the boat fast enough to show my dad I was alive. The poor man, I thought, how he must have suffered since he learned I was gone.

The big boat was finally secured. I ran down the gangplank. But then I realized my folly. I had to act like nothing was amiss. I slowed my steps and strolled up to my father and Silk and gave them a carefree smile.

"Hi," I said.

My father—God bless his heart—burst out crying. He wrapped me in a huge hug. Even Silk appeared happy to see me, and that was a definite first. The two police officers stood watching and no doubt wondering if I was another one of those filthy—flaky— Americans. Finally my dad let me go. I put on a face like he was overreacting just a tad, although I felt like crying myself.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I went to visit Delos again. Why? You all look upset."

In reality he had never looked happier in his life. "We thought you were dead," he said. "Tom told us that—"

"Tom!" I screamed. So much for my casual act. I grabbed my dad as hard as he had grabbed me. "He's alive?"

"Sure," my dad said, laughing, confused out of his gourd and not minding much because I at least was safe. "He's out on a search boat now, looking for you.

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Half the island is doing the same. Helen's with Tom." Dad glanced at the police. "This is my daughter. The one we've been looking for."

They nodded, as if to say they had I.Q.s above fifty.

"How did Tom get back to shore?" I asked.

"He swam," Silk said. "How did you get back to shore?"

I gestured over my shoulder. "I took the boat."

"I don't understand," my dad said. "Where did you spend the night?"

"On the beach," I said, realizing my mistake.

"What beach?" Silk asked.

I pointed to a small sandy area off the main coast of Hora. When we had been walking with the guys the first night, on our way to the big ferry, I had noticed a number of young people camping there.

"After Tom dived overboard after the oar," I explained, "I drifted way out. But then the current changed and I came back in. By then it was the middle of the night. The boat plowed up on the sand. I climbed out and collapsed. I didn't wake up until the horn blew at eight o'clock for the boat leaving to Delos."

"But why did you go to Delos again?" my dad asked. "Didn't you know that we'd be frantic searching for you?"

"I thought you said yesterday when we got back from Delos that you were thinking of going again today,"

I said.

My dad stopped. "I did say that, but I wasn't serious. Also, of course I wouldn't return there with 120

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you lost at sea." He was exasperated. "Josie! We've been up all night worried about you!"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I thought there was a chance you might be on the boat bound for Delos, and then when I got aboard and saw you weren't there, it was too late to get off." I hugged him again. "You must have had a horrible night."

"You can't imagine," he said.

Oh, but I could. But I didn't tell him that.

Tom was alive! That was all that mattered. It didn't even bother me that he was with Helen. He was searching for me, thinking of me. I was happy.

For a short time.

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I RETURNED TO THE HOTEL TO REST. WHILE I WAS THERE MY

father called off the search. Apparently he
had
hired many of the local fishermen to go out searching for me, in addition to the Greek authorities who were scouring the local islands. Fortunately most of them had radios on their boats and were able to return to dock promptly. The boat Helen and Tom were on was also notified. I could imagine Tom's relief—and, I assumed, Helen's. At the time I didn't know Pascal was also with them, that they were, in fact, on his boss's boat. This was the same boss who had lent Tom our boat the night before. All the attention I was receiving was wonderful, although it made me shudder to think what my mishap was costing my father.

Eventually the island police did come to the hotel to question me on where I had spent the night. I repeated

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the story I had told my father. They had only one difficulty with it. Where was the boat? I told them I had been too exhausted to secure it, that it must have been dragged back out to sea. I didn't know if they believed me or not—it was hard to read the body language of two men who had grown up in a different culture—but I'm sure they couldn't think of a reason why I'd lie to them. They left the hotel at about the same time as Helen, Pascal, and Tom arrived.

It was a joyous reunion. All three of them wouldn't let me off the hook for not contacting them the second I got back, but the complaints were made with big smiles. Helen in particular seemed relieved. In fact, she burst out crying when she first saw me. I decided I was forgiven for the previous night.

There may have been another reason than my return from the dead to account for Helen's warmth. Very quickly, as we were all talking and laughing together, I noticed that Helen and Pascal were standing close to each other. When I finally had Tom alone for a moment, I asked him about it.

"I noticed it on the boat on the way back, after we had learned you were safe," Tom said. "I think we lucked out and she fell for him. I know for a fact Pascal likes her." He grinned. "It takes the pressure off us, doesn't it?"

"Do you think we could spend time together alone without upsetting the situation?" I asked.

"She is your friend, but I'm sure it would be fine. Honestly, on the boat on the trip home, she let Pascal 123

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rub sunscreen on her back for an hour. She giggled half the time." Tom paused. "You know, I have this afternoon off. We could go to the other side of the island, and I could show you some beaches you probably haven't seen."

"Did you take the day off work because you thought I was dead?"

His face darkened. "I did think I would never see you again."

I nodded. "I thought the same thing."

When we rejoined Helen and Pascal, they were planning a barbecue for that evening. There were numerous barbecue pits on the beach in front of the hotel. All this partying to celebrate my resurrection. I told them I thought it sounded like a wonderful idea.

I had to work to get Helen alone for a minute. Her face was still streaked with dried tears, but her eyes glistened with a light I hadn't seen in ages.

"Do you hate me?" I asked.

She laughed. "I want to hate you, but I'm too happy you're alive." She hugged me again. "No, it's all water under the bridge, as they say."

I laughed. "I got plenty of water thrown in my face last night."

She let go of me, serious. "Were you scared?"

I was equally serious. "Yeah. I thought I would die."

"I didn't."

"I'm glad."

"No, I mean it, Josie. The whole time we were searching for you on the boat, I knew you were alive—somewhere. I could feel you still here."

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"Thank you. I mean, I appreciate the sentiment." I took a breath. "I want to clear the air between us.

You're my friend and I want you to remain my friend. If you don't want me to see Tom, if you feel like you saw him first and he belongs to you, then I won't talk to him anymore."

Helen was amused. "Do you mean that?"

"No, but I have to say it."

"Oh, Josie, you are sly."

"I hear I'm not the only one. Is it true about you and Pascal?"

"Is what true?" Helen asked.

"That you did it with Pascal on the boat while searching for my dead body?"

Helen waved her hand. "Four times. We couldn't help ourselves." She paused. "I like him."

"Pascal?"

"Yes. We're talking about the guy from France, not the one from England. I like him more than I liked Tom. Really, Josie, I'm happy this all happened the way it did. Everything's working out for the best. You and Tom go off and have fun." She added, "Just be back in time for the barbecue."

"Will you be at the barbecue?" I asked. Helen never ate beef.

Helen nodded. "Silk said she'd buy me chicken at the store. As long as I don't have to eat red meat, I'm happy."

Tom took me to a beach that he said wasn't on the map. I believed him—it was that small. A few yards 125

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of gold sand wedged between towering gray rocks. We had the whole place to ourselves. We had hardly dropped our towels when I, on impulse, pulled off my clothes, including my bathing suit, and ran into the water. I paused on the beach only long enough to see Tom's expression. Just the right combination of shock and lust, I thought.

Some people saw white light when they had a near-death experience; I saw my sexual prime slipping away.

Tom caught up with me in the water, and I was disappointed that he still had his swimming trunks on.

"Hey," I complained. "That's not fair."

"I can't take these off. I might jump on you if I did."

"I don't mind, honestly, Tom, I'm on vacation."

"But I don't have a condom. Safe sex, AIDS— politically correct, remember?"

I frowned. "Where does the politically correct come in?"

He shrugged, looking at my naked chest. We were standing in three feet of water. "They sure know how to grow them in California," he said.

I smiled, grabbing for his pants. "I want to see how they grow them at Oxford."

But he was too quick for me, diving underwater and swimming away. I couldn't believe the guy. Here I was stark naked, and he hadn't even kissed me yet.

"I know what it is!" I called after him. "You and Pascal are gay lovers!"

He resurfaced fifty feet out. "What?"

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"Never mind." I turned and strode back to shore, calling over my shoulder, "Please look at my butt at least or I will think you don't care."

"I can't see without my contacts," he called.

"Oh boy," I whispered.

Tom eventually joined me on the beach, but by that time I had my bathing suit on. He looked disappointed.

"I was hoping to rub suntan lotion on your bare chest," he said.

I read my book and pretended to be bored. "I give a guy one chance, and if he doesn't take it I never forgive him."

Standing above me, he kicked the book out of my hand. "You can't read on a day like this with a guy like me with you."

I threw sand at him. "I've heard Oxford is nothing but a school for a bunch of nerdy bookworms."

He knelt beside me. "There is some truth to that statement. But this nerd could be changed, with one kiss, into a gentleman of heroic proportions." He leaned closer. I could actually feel his breath on my skin, cool compared to the heat of the sun. It was another glorious day on Mykonos. I think the Greek government manufactured them on the mainland and mailed them out each week on a plane. I was about to get my first kiss from the boy of my dreams. I laughed at him.

"You know what happened the last time we tried to kiss?" I asked.

He stopped. "I knocked the oar overboard." He

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looked around. "What terrible calamity could befall us here if I made another attempt?"

"I might get pregnant."

"I can control myself."

"I can control you," I said. Then, in a sudden
rush, I
grabbed him and had him in my arms. He didn't know what had hit him. I smothered him in kisses. I ate him alive. I'm sure, without even straining my feminine charms, I could have had his trunks off in two seconds. But I wanted to give him just a taste, so that later, when I gave him the real thing, he would want to marry me. Ralph had asked me to marry him after we had had sex the first time.

In all the excitement,
I
had forgotten
that Ralph
was dead.

Just the
thought
was enough to curb my
lust. I
pulled aside.

"What's the matter?" Tom asked, blinking.

I smiled quickly. "Nothing. I was just thinking about politically correct behavior. You know, I'm fertile this time of the month."

"I can't say I knew that."

I smiled at him once more but felt the strain in the expression. "Tom, is there anything about me you find unusual?" I asked.

"If you take off your bikini again, I might be able to give you a better idea."

"I'm serious. Is there anything about me that you feel makes me different from other girls? I don't mean in a normal way."

He was puzzled. "Do you mean in a bad way?"

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"No. I've been having weird experiences since I arrived on Mykonos." I glanced at my bag that held the statue of the goddess I had taken from Delos. I'd been afraid to leave it in my room in case Helen found it. No, it would be more accurate to say I had been reluctant to part from it.

Tom was concerned. "What kind of experiences? Have you been sick?"

"No, not sick. But I've been having strange dreams. Not only that, I've been having—visions."

"What kind of visions?"

"I didn't spend last night sleeping on the beach, Tom."

He wasn't surprised. "Were you on Delos?"

"Yes. How did you guess?"

"Because you came back from there this afternoon, and last night, when the wind came up, the current should have naturally taken the boat in that direction. Why didn't you tell us what really happened?"

"Because of what I saw when I was on the island. I know this will sound weird, but when the boat ran ashore on Delos and I climbed over to where the ruins were, I found the city as it was thousands of years ago."

"I don't understand."

I took his hand and lowered my head. "There were people there from the past. They were dressed in long robes and they walked among beautiful marble pillars. When I entered their city they recognized me.

They wanted to serve me."

"You were having a dream."

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THE IMMORTAL

I raised my head. "No, I had the dream afterward. In it I saw how the goddesses Sryope and Phthia fought over the handsome youth Aeneas."

Tom was watching intently. "You're upset, Josie."

I swallowed past a lump. "You're right. But I'm not crazy. After my dream, I woke up on Delos beside an ancient artifact." I reached for my bag. "The only thing is, this statue looks as new as the day it was made." I pulled out the goddess. "This is Sryope, Tom."

He stared at the work. "It's quite beautiful. You found this on Delos?"

"Yes. Wait!" He had started to take it. "You mustn't touch her."

He chuckled uncomfortably. "I'm not going to hurt her, Josie."

"No. But she can hurt you." The words were out of my mouth before I realized I had spoken them. I pulled the statue closer to my chest, to my heart, where I felt it belonged. "I don't understand this, Tom. I only know that you mustn't touch this thing. No one can."

He was patient with me, or else he was humoring me. "Where exactly did you find this on Delos?"

"It was standing beside me when I awoke from my strange dream."

"It wasn't there when you went to sleep?"

"No. The entire ancient civilization was there when I went to sleep."

"Josie—"

"Tom, it was. I saw it with my own eyes and I was not asleep."

"Was Delos in ruins when you left this afternoon?"

"Yes."

"What are you saying then? That you went back in time?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I am connected to that place in some way I can't explain. That it draws me to it, as it drew Helen last year."

"Have you talked to Helen about your strange experiences?"

"Not really."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"No," I said suddenly. The strength of my reply gave him a start. I let go of his hand and clasped it instead to the lower portion of the statue. "She is the last person I want to talk to about these things."

"You don't trust her? She seems to be over her anger."

"It's not that," I said, although I may have been lying. "It's just one of those things that I have to bounce off someone objective. Helen's not objective." I gave a snort. "She's as crazy as I am."

"But you said you're not crazy, Josie."

I gestured weakly. "I am explaining this poorly. These dreams I'm having are not normal dreams. They are startling in their clarity. Plus I remember every bit of them when I wake up. Tom, are you familiar with the Furies in Greek mythology?"

"Yes. They are crones who live in the Underworld.

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There are three of them. Offhand, I can't remember their names."

"Their names are Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto. Their jobs are to listen to the complaints mortals have against one another, and then to punish those that they think deserve it. Is that true?"

"Essentially."

"How did you know that, Tom?"

He shrugged. "I've made a casual study of Greek mythology."

"I haven't. I've never read about the Greek gods. I have never heard of the Furies before. But I dreamed about them on Delos last night, and I can tell you exactly what they look like. What do you think of that?"

"Somewhere you must have read about them, or seen a program on TV where they talked about the Furies. Greek mythology is popular worldwide."

"You're saying that consciously I didn't remember them, but my subconscious did and tucked them into my dream without my permission?"