The Phantom (15 page)

There was something oddly familiar about the Phantom. It seemed ridiculous, yet she couldn’t get over the sensation. She was certain that she would’ve remembered a character in purple tights and a mask.

Had she met him, perhaps, when he was in regular clothes? Certainly from the way he spoke, it was obvious that he spent a good deal of time away from the jungle. He was no wild man.

They rode for a long time, and when twilight finally overtook them, the Phantom slowed Hero to a trot. Diana noticed the sound of running water growing louder and louder, until it was a thunderous roar.

A waterfall appeared then, glimmering in the moonlight. They were thirty feet below the top and another thirty feet above the swirling pool that caught the falls.

At first Diana thought that he had brought her here just to see the awesome power of the falls and enjoy the stupendous sight. But he nudged Hero, who trotted confidently forward toward the falls, then through the sparkling curtain of water. She was covered in a fine, cool spray that was the most refreshing shower she’d ever had after a long trip.

But the journey wasn’t over yet. In a sense it was just beginning. Hero carried them across the dry cavern behind the falls and out the other side. They paused a moment, gazing over the landscape.

A pristine valley opened up in the moonlight below them. It probably hadn’t changed in a thousand or ten thousand years. Even at night, it was easy to see that the forest was older and less dense than anything they had traversed.

Somehow she knew it was friendlier, too. She had no fear of being attacked by vicious creatures. It was the sort of place where she had always wanted to have a home, a place to escape from the hectic pace of big city life, which she realized she enjoyed less and less each time she returned home.

“It’s beautiful, just beautiful. Breathtaking,” she said.

“Magical, I think that’s the word. It’s called Deep Woods. Wait until you see it in the daylight. There’s no place quite like it.”

“Does that mean we’re not going to just pass on through it?”

The Phantom didn’t answer. Instead he spurred Hero, and they rode swiftly across the valley floor. Hero seemed to gallop with an unbridled joy now, knowing he had arrived home. Yes, she was sure they were very near the Phantom’s secret home, and she wondered what sort of place it would be.

A cliff rose above the forest, and protruding from it was a huge rock formation at least eighty feet high. It had been carved by the wind and rain into the shape of a skull. Two large caves formed the eye-sockets of the skull. An avalanche or maybe a millennium of weathering had left a gash that looked amazingly like the ruins of a nose. An enormous cavern at least thirty feet across and fifteen feet high formed the mouth.

A skull cave, she thought, and she knew this was where the Phantom lived. She tried not to form any preconceptions of what it must be like inside, but her mind had already painted a dim, gloomy picture. Mold, darkness, snakes, God knew what else. The Waldorf it wasn’t.

Then the day’s events caught up with her, overwhelmed her. She was suddenly so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open and nodded off. Now and then she surfaced from wherever she’d gone and was aware that as Hero pranced through the opening of the cave, the Phantom murmured, “Home, sweet home,” and that she laughed softly and drifted away again.

She was asleep when Hero finally stopped. The Phantom carried Diana into Skull Cave and set her down on a pile of woven mats.

Guran immediately appeared and covered her with blankets. The Phantom adjusted the blankets, then gently brushed her light-brown hair away from her face.

“Who is she?” Guran asked, his voice soft.

“Her name is Diana Palmer.” A beat passed as he gazed thoughtfully at her. “I know her, Guran. From before. From America . . .”

Guran watched in silence as the Phantom got to his feet and walked outside the cave. He sat down on a rock and looked out over the dark valley, which was blanketed with a silver glaze of moonlight.

The first time he met her was when she was staying on the Hopi Indian Reservation. He was seventeen and traveling the world with his father, who was showing him all the hideouts. They were staying in one of those hideouts, a spot located at the top of a high, sheer mesa.

The Hopis and other Pueblo Indians knew it as Walker’s Table, a place thought to be haunted by spirits, among them the Ghost Who Walks. Kit had been fascinated by the Hopi’s kachinas, which were a lot like the nature spirits and spirit guides of the Bangallan tribes. He was intrigued by how cultures, separated by thousands of miles, had such similar beliefs in an invisible world that was intricately connected with the forces of nature.

When he’d met Diana, he’d told her he was staying with another missionary in one of the other Hopi villages. He was amazed by how readily she’d accepted his offer to sneak out and visit an old Hopi storyteller. On the night they were to meet, he was going to take her to an old man who had recognized him as a young initiate of a powerful tradition. He’d been teaching Kit about the powers of the kachinas, and he’d agreed to allow Diana to join him.

But Kit had arrived late, and instead of waiting for him, Diana had wandered into big trouble when she nearly walked into a secret initiation ceremony. He’d put to use all of the skills his father had taught him to save her, and he was still lucky he’d succeeded.

He’d met her again three years later when he was a senior at Columbia University and she was a sophomore. They saw each other regularly for eight months until he graduated. She never connected him with the boy from the reservation who’d saved her, and he’d never told her. But then, he’d never told her a lot of things about himself.

Maybe it was time she knew.

EIGHTEEN

T
he sun cut through the mist that rose from the valley floor. The light shimmered, creating magical illusions of etheric dancing beings that skipped from treetop to treetop, rock to rock. Diana looked out in amazement over the valley.

“So, it wasn’t a dream,” she murmured.

But of all the incredible things she had seen, the Phantom took the prize. Who was he?
What
was he? And where was he? For that matter, where was she in relation to anything else? Where was New York from here?

She stood up from her bed inside the mouth of the cave. “Hello,” she called. “Anybody here?”

She saw eyes and ears, a snout. Devil was crouched near the other wall, watching her intently. No one here but the wolf, she thought. “Devil, where’s your master? Did he go someplace?”

The wolf merely stared at her. It looked neither friendly nor angry. Just watchful.

She moved farther into the cave, exploring it, and realized it penetrated deep into the cliff. “What kind of man lives in a cave?”

The first thing she saw was a huge, high-backed chair on a raised platform. It was adorned with skulls. “Papa Bear’s chair,” she said, glancing at Devil. “I have to tell you I’m not real crazy about the motif. Is this where your master sits?”

Devil, who had followed her at a distance, now sat down and cocked his head. He whined and pawed the ground.

“I take it that means yes.”

Another whine. He pawed the ground again.

She decided to try the chair and sat down in it, careful not to touch the skulls embedded in the arms. Devil growled; his flaring eyes burned into her.

“Oh, c’mon, Devil. I’m just trying it out. No big deal, okay?”

Devil answered with another low, grumbling growl. Her amusement at the wolfs reaction shifted to concern. “Hey, I’m not hurting anything, boy.”

The hairs on the back of the wolf’s neck rose. His growling deepened and grew more threatening.

“Okay, okay. I get the idea. I’m getting off.”

She got up slowly, her eyes glued to the wolf, wary that he might attack. But as soon as she moved away from the throne, the wolf relaxed. Devil still regarded her with suspicion, as though he expected her to try out the throne again, but he no longer seemed intent on assaulting her. There were obviously some very clear-cut rules here in the cave.

She turned her palms up. “Where is he, anyway?”

The wolf just stared back at her.

“Fine. I’ll find him myself.”

Devil whined, pawed again at the ground, and trotted after her as she walked out of the cave.

Diana followed a well-traveled path into the forest. A hundred bright red, yellow, and cobalt butterflies flickered along the trail from one orange and purple tubular flower to another. The trail led to a quiet lagoon shrouded by flowering bushes. Green parrots flitted from branch to branch in the treetops, and a family of squirrel monkeys swung through the trees, arguing noisily.

Diana noticed the Phantom’s purple outfit draped across a rock. She crept closer and ducked behind a bush. A man was bathing in the river, his back turned toward her so she couldn’t see his face.

But she liked what she saw. A firm, lean body, muscular thighs, broad muscular shoulders.

She heard a growl behind her and her head snapped around. Devil crouched low. This time the wolfs growl was deep and ominous.

“Not you again,” she said softly. “Who are you—his mother? He brought me here, you know. That makes me a guest. You should probably be a little nicer.”

She glanced back at the lagoon and wondered if the Phantom had heard her voice or Devil’s growls. His clothes were no longer on the rock. She started to stand up, but Devil grabbed her by the sleeve of her blouse. Then the wolf pulled her away.

“Hey! What are you doing?”

She tried to jerk her arm free, but Devil kept tugging on her sleeve. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get him to release it.

“Devil! Release!”

The wolf instantly let go of her arm. The Phantom, now astride Hero, towered over them. To her disappointment, he was back in costume, complete with mask.

“Sorry. Wolves are a bit territorial,” the Phantom told her.

“Who
are
you?”

“We’ve already been through that.”

“That’s not what I mean. Don’t you have a real name?”

“Not anymore.”

“Then what
was
your real name?”

“I forget.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right.”

“Any more questions?”

Diana laughed. “Just a million of them.”

“They’ll have to wait. Captain Horton is on his way to meet you.”

A throng of butterflies fluttered around them, and several landed on the Phantom’s arms and shoulders. One rested on Devil’s snout. Then, moving en masse, they fluttered upward and circled the lagoon.

The Phantom extended his hand. “C’mon, we’ll take the scenic route. I think you’ll like it.” He pulled her up into the saddle with him.

“This feels all too familiar,” she commented. “You know, I’m not completely recovered yet from yesterday.”

“It wasn’t
that
bad.”

“Ha.”

“We’ll take it easy.”

They rode through the dappled shadows of a lush jungle path. Diana felt as if she were touring a giant open-air botanical garden and arboretum. But someone had forgotten to mark the names on all the plants. She recognized the elephant-ear philodendra, which were house plants in New York but grew in a riotous profusion here.

They continued on up a hillside with a commanding view of the secret valley. The sight of it literally took her breath away. Light greens melted into emerald greens. Reds and violets, vivid yellows and golds burned in all the green. Here and there were soft blues and aquas. An artist’s palette.

But in spite of the beauty and grandeur of this place, Diana sensed that the Phantom was lonely. As far as she knew, he and his animals lived alone here.

The Phantom kept his arm around her waist as they rode. She felt the warmth and pressure of his skin and decided she liked it. His closeness was gentle, yet firm.

“You called this place the Deep Woods yesterday,” she said.

“That’s right.”

“Your domain?”

“It’s where I live.”

“So you’re some kind of jungle lord and this is your kingdom. Very nice. And you go out and save women in distress from time to time for variety.”

“Beats punching a time clock.”

She laughed. “I suppose. But doesn’t it get lonely here for a young man?”

He shrugged and didn’t answer right away. It was as if he’d never considered the question before. “I have Guran here, and the animals, of course. But—”

“Guran?” Was he living with a native woman? She suddenly felt jealous and was instantly appalled at her reaction. How could she feel jealous? She’d just met the man. Didn’t even know his real name. Had never see his face. Ridiculous.

“You’ll meet him soon enough. He’s on his way with Captain Horton.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, relieved to know that Guran was a man.

“But before they arrive, I want to show you one of my favorite places.”

They galloped off through the forest on another trail. Before long, a warm salty breeze filled the air. Water glittered between the trees; she heard the roar of a surf. The forest gave way to a beautiful, pristine beach, and beyond it was the ocean.

They galloped half a mile along the beach and through the surf, and finally came to a halt. The Phantom dismounted, then helped Diana down from Hero.

She stretched out her arms and swung about in a circle. “This is incredible.”

“It’s Keela Wee Beach.”

“It’s like Paradise.”

“It
is
Paradise.”

Hero wasn’t very impressed. The horse walked away from the water and stood in the shade of an enormous banyan tree. Its branches spread out in every direction.

She scooped up a handful of sand and let it sift through her fingers. The light danced against it. “What makes it sparkle like that?”

“Gold.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I never kid.”

The Phantom had picked up a coconut that had fallen from one of the tall palms. He pulled a machete from the saddlebag and chopped off the top of an enormous coconut. He handed it to her. “You want a drink?”

“Well, I am thirsty. Oh . . . it’s heavy.” She lifted it unsteadily to her mouth, tasted the coconut milk, then drank deeply. She passed it back to the Phantom.