The Jumbee (29 page)

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “My lady is very jealous.” As before, Esti was taken aback by the utter sincerity of his response.

“Set foot on the island, and you’re never seen again,” she quipped with a shiver. “No wonder people are afraid to come here. How do
you
get through that gauntlet without breaking your neck?”

“I paid my dues long ago.” As he covered her sting with an adhesive bandage, his hands began to tremble. Smoothing the bandage flat, he lightly ran his forefinger down her arm to the small bones of her wrist, his finger just barely stroking her. Esti’s skin twitched along the path of his touch, the sensation both eerie and delightful.

He glanced up with a fearful expression, waiting for her to pull away. When she didn’t, he looked back down with a sharp breath. Still trembling, he lifted her hand in both of his. Esti watched his eyes in fascination as he reverently touched her skin with his gloved fingers, studying the fine hairs of her forearm, the wrinkles around each knuckle, and her unpainted fingernails. It was like he had never seen the hand of a girl before.

When his butterfly touch raised goose bumps on her skin, he looked so surprised that Esti giggled. After an embarrassed moment, he turned her arm to study the underside of her hand. She felt like a priceless work of art as he traced his finger along the life lines of her palm and the webbing between her fingers, memorizing the whorl of each fingerprint. It was a long time before he finally placed her hand gently back in her lap.

They spent the afternoon talking about her father. Esti had never met anyone—not even her mom—who knew The Great Legard’s work so intimately. She couldn’t have imagined the deep uncertainties that forced her dad along as he strove to conquer the theater. And, as the sun dropped lower in the sky, Alan finally mentioned her dad’s difficulty with fatherhood.

“I think you intimidated him,” Alan said frankly. “He told me that someday the tables would turn and he would be known as Esti Legard’s father.”

“Yeah, right.” She burst into laughter, looking at the long line of Legard’s writing on Alan’s bookshelves. “No one intimidated my dad. What he told
me
was that I needed better control of myself, if I ever wanted people to notice me. My character depended too much on the attitude of everyone else on stage. He said I was shallow.” She swallowed as the words came out of her mouth. She had managed to forget the painful conversation she’d had with him when the cameras finally stopped. She had never told anyone how he had chastised her performance even after it was all over, destroying her last shreds of confidence.

“Proving his control.” Alan nodded. “Control was so important to him that he couldn’t be completely honest.”

“That’s it.” Esti gave Alan a flabbergasted look as he opened yet another window into her dad. “Was he that way with you too?”

“Yes.” Alan led Esti upstairs to begin dinner. “He considered me a prodigy, but I hated the spotlight. My attraction to Shakespeare had far different roots than his.”

“What was your attraction?” Esti asked curiously.

“My family has always claimed ancestry from Amleth.”

“Ah-hah.” Esti laughed. “
To be or not to be.
Your insanity goes way back, then.”

“Precisely.” Smiling, he pulled a chair away from the small kitchen table so she could sit down. The length of the kitchen overlooked the living room below; her chair beside the open window looked out at the valley.

Shadows played against the beautiful hills outside from the late-afternoon sun, and Esti felt a sudden, strong twinge of guilt. Was Aurora watching the same shadows from her balcony, drinking wine as she worried and waited?

“Do you ever try to help people when they get into trouble on your island?” she asked Alan. “Have people really died here?”

To her surprise, Alan merely shrugged. “It’s not my business.”

“What’s not your business? Saving lives?”

“You’ve met her.” He handed Esti a glass of water. “You know how she is. There are signs posted everywhere, warning of the danger. If someone is foolish enough to disturb her, who am I to save them?”

Esti took a sip, thinking about the distant, angry shriek. The cay wasn’t
really
alive; it couldn’t be. “Suppose someone lands here by accident. Do they deserve to die for that?”

“I learned long ago not to question my lady. Those who face her judgment are paying for the sins of their past. I don’t interfere.”

Esti studied the shadows outside, taken aback by the stiffness in Alan’s voice.

“You interfered with me,” she finally said. “Won’t I have to pay?”

The silence following her words lasted so long that Esti felt a shiver of apprehension.

“If a price must be paid for today,” Alan finally said, “it will not be you who pays it.”

He refused to talk about Manchineel Cay any further, instead showing Esti how to make calalloo soup. It was almost dark by the time Alan covered the table with candles while she ladled the soup, rich with seafood and spinach, herbs and coconut milk. A thrill shot through her when he reached for her hand at the end of dinner, his eyes glowing in the candlelight.

“Thank you,” she said, “for finally trusting me.”

“This has been the best day of my life,” Alan replied softly. “But my mind misgives some consequence, yet hanging in the stars . . .” He trailed off at her wide-eyed stare. “It’s time for me to take you home.”

Esti silently followed him down the steps and put her shoes on. Romeo’s suicidal quote about the stars disturbed her deeply, and she wished Alan hadn’t said it.

When she stood up, he had disappeared. She walked around the living room one last time, waiting for him. As she passed his books, the slim paperback again caught her eye, sandwiched between her father’s earliest works. Esti stared at the notched spine for a moment, then carefully pulled the paperback out of the bookcase.

Before she could open it, however, she heard Alan coming up the steps from the bathroom. Almost without thinking, she stuffed the book into the back of her jeans waistband. When he reached the top of the stairs, she was tucking her shirt back in, aware of her breathing and her pounding heart.

They made the dark trip back down to the boat in silence, the cay moaning in rancorous protest as Alan led Esti to the boat. As they floated back out into the calm sea, Esti was intensely relieved to be away from the forbidding presence of Manchineel Cay. As she heard the oars move in the darkness, however, she couldn’t relax. She strained to see Alan rowing the tiny boat in his black clothes, random thoughts churning through her mind. She had more questions now, she thought in confusion, than ever.

What deformity could keep Alan in this lonely, awful place? It seemed that he had always lived this life of bizarre secrets, even as her dad’s close friend. What sort of relationship could Esti have with him, if he never allowed her to see him?

Listening to the splash and squeak of the oars, Esti quelled a traitorous longing for Rafe. Rafe strode fearlessly through life, straightforward to the point of getting himself in trouble. He had nothing to hide, no complicated emotions to untangle. Esti couldn’t deny she missed his killer kiss and his easy smile. He kept her warm and safe without even trying. Most of all, she missed his honesty.

She twitched, aware of the book she smuggled in her jeans. She felt terrible for the way she’d left Aurora this morning, and she totally deserved the trouble she would be in when she got home. No matter what Alan had done, Esti was in no position to judge him, or anyone else.

The suffocating trees where Alan moored his boat didn’t seem nearly as frightening now, after the implicit anger she had felt from his jealous lady. She clutched his gloved fingers as they made their way through the watery mangle, and when they reached the glow of lights outside the theater building, she didn’t let go of his hand. She hadn’t planned to do it, but her body seemed to act on its own, intent on resolving the most difficult issue between them.

As Alan turned to give her a questioning look in the pale yellow light, her other hand darted up to his face. Before he could protest, she gently pulled off his mask.

Act Three

Act Three. Scene One.

“NO!”

The word exploded from Alan with such force that Esti reeled back. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight of him. The mottled skin on his face was deeply furrowed and cracked, alternately shiny and covered with thick, dark scales. His mouth twisted in rage, his eyes stabbing into her with horror at what she’d done. In the sickly yellow light he looked like he could have crawled out of a grave. He was terrifying.

“This.” His voice became an inhuman croak. “This is the payment my lady demands.”

Esti couldn’t help the scream that burst from her as he grabbed her arm. He yanked her close to him, his furious eyes piercing hers.

“Then go ahead and look.”

Icy fear crawled through her body. Wrenching her arm loose, she scrambled back in terror as he followed her across the grass.

“Get away from her!” A familiar voice broke the darkness, and someone hit Alan with such force, he ended up several feet away.

Aghast, Esti watched the two shadows struggle in the dim light. With one part of her mind, she understood that somehow Rafe had appeared. With another part, she realized he didn’t stand a chance. Alan attacked with unearthly rage until Rafe staggered back. Alan followed him, as deadly and wicked as a phantom.

“No,” Esti cried, leaping at them. “Alan, don’t.”

She was too late. Alan’s fist landed on Rafe, and he crumpled. Esti threw herself against Alan to stop his other fist. When a glancing blow caught her, she lurched backward, holding her jaw.

“Esti!” Alan’s voice filled with panic. “Beloved Esti, I didn’t mean to.”

She stumbled and fell to the grass, scrabbling back as he came after her. Several feet away she heard a dull groan, but Rafe didn’t move. She couldn’t hold back another scream as Alan’s hideous face loomed above her.

He became deathly still as she shrank from him. After a moment, he slumped to the grass, panting. “Oh, my lady is harsh.”

Esti pressed her hands against her ears, but it didn’t help. His tormented breath shredded her heart.

He looked back at Rafe, hatred growing in his eyes. As he began to rise, Esti grabbed his arm.

“No, please,” she whimpered. “Leave him alone.”

He sank to the grass again, and Esti made herself stare into his awful face. He slowly pulled away until she let go of him, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Gentle Esti,” he said woodenly, reaching into his pocket. “The queen of betrayal.”

Her eyes widened in horror when she saw the delicate chain sparkling in the dim light. She couldn’t move as he clasped it around her neck, the tiny frangipani pendant resting against her throat.

“If you remove this again,” he said, “I will know you despise me.” Picking up his mask from the ground, he silently stood and walked into the darkness.

Esti watched him, frozen, until he disappeared around the edge of the theater building. She wanted to curl up against the wall and die, but Rafe lay motionless in the grass, his dark face shiny with blood.

“Rafe. Oh my God.” She dropped down beside him, trying to soak up some of the blood with her shirt. “Are you okay?”

He opened one eye, then groaned and shut it again. His nose was bleeding, and his other eye had already swollen shut. Blood welled from a deep cut across his forehead, and more from a split in his lower lip.

“You’re bleeding.” Her voice broke in disbelief. “He hurt you.”

Rafe’s eye opened again. After a moment he sat up, breathing deeply and holding his head. “I heard you scream.”

Esti clenched her teeth, wincing at the ache in her jaw. She wouldn’t let herself cry. “What are you
doing
here?”

“Aurora called me at the restaurant a while ago.” Rafe spoke the words carefully, grimacing as he touched his fingers to his bleeding mouth. “She said the jumbee had smashed her rosemary and kidnapped you. She sounded drunk and nearly hysterical.” He stared at Esti, squinting against blood that dripped into his eyes from the gash in his forehead. “I saw it attack you.”

“No.” Her shirt was already soggy with sweat and blood, so she pulled the front of his T-shirt up and wiped his eyes as gently as she could. She could never explain. “I’m taking you to the emergency room.”

“Forget it. I’m not going there.” He pulled his shirt up to wipe more blood away. “I barely saw that thing before it decked me, but I can tell you right now, it wasn’t human. Where did it go?”

Esti shuddered in fear. “You’re bleeding really bad, and I think you need stitches. Where’s the hospital?”

“Not a chance.” Rafe grimaced. “I’m not going near that place.”

She couldn’t argue, and she had no idea where the hospital was. She’d take Rafe home. Aurora would know what to do. “Okay, we’re going to my house. We should hurry.”