His hands made an automatic slap for his knives or his blaster. The girl restrained him easily. Though she was about his height, she was astonishingly strong—or he was exceptionally weak.
“No,” she said tersely. “I will not harm you. I want to be your friend.”
She tugged him away from the door so she could shut and latch it. He stood swaying in the gloom. “Who you?” he managed to mumble.
“My name is Kela. What is your name?”
Everything seemed to stop inside him. It was as if he had been operating on a giant mainspring, and it had suddenly gone slack. Darkness, cold and excruciating pain swarmed over him at once.
He thought he croaked “Jak” before diving headlong into a deep, black well.
“ARE YOU SURE he still sleeps?”
Jak felt like he was floating.
“Yes. I gave him the right dosage.”
Jak could feel the jostling vibration of a moving vehicle, hear the creak and squeak of wheels. He also heard the voices of two women, speaking in hushed tones. They whispered over him in silky blackness.
He felt a warm breath caress his right ear. “Jak,” a melodic voice rustled, “can you hear me?”
He tried to answer, but he couldn’t find or feel his tongue. He couldn’t seem to feel his eyes, either. He could move neither his arms nor legs, nor did he care to do so. He was very warm, he was very comfortable, he felt no pain and he was in a good place. He was satisfied with it. He had no inclination to leave.
“Very good,” the voice said. “Very good. Sleep, then.”
And a woman laughed softly.
BARON TOURMENT and the General had turned the West Lowellton Holiday Inn into a casino, and they asked Jak to be the croupier at the craps table. He agreed before he realized all the dice were carved from the bones of his father, Christina and his darling Jenny. He was ashamed that he had forgotten the baron had murdered his father and the General was responsible for chilling his wife and child.
So Jak turned and ran through the old hotel, seeking out the humid comfort of his beloved bayou. He couldn’t find the door. He wandered through dark tunnels toward a dim, distant light, only to find himself walking deeper and deeper into the black. At last he emerged into a tomb. Cobwebs hung in the corners and they fluttered toward his face. He tasted the dust of centuries on his tongue and he entered another door, scared and sweating.
He found himself sitting in a little amphitheater, looking down at a small central stage. Two naked girls danced to music only they could hear, their beautiful bodies twirling and pirouetting, tossing their heavy black hair and laughing in delight. They touched each other as they danced and laughed, fingers playfully darting here and there, and they kept stealing shy glances toward him, as if seeking his approval.
Jak applauded, feeling an admiration, a lust and almost a love for the girls who danced with such wild abandon for his pleasure. He watched, slowly aware of trickles of sweat flowing down his face from his hairline. He lifted his hand to mop away the moisture, and one of the girls stopped dancing and pointed at him with a long finger. She announced, “You are awake.”
A DAMP CLOTH LAY across Jak’s forehead. The pungent smell of herbs entered his nostrils and seemed to push back the nausea boiling in his stomach, and with each whiff, strength seemed to return to his limbs.
A hand cradled the back of his head, the rim of a cup pressed against his lips and a soft woman’s voice said, “Drink this.”
Unhesitatingly, Jak swallowed the liquid. It was warm and tasted strongly of copper, like mustard greens mixed with honey. He coughed, and the cup was removed. Carefully, he opened his eyes and saw a girl’s face leaning over him. She was the same gray-eyed young woman who had pulled him into the house. He tried to rise.
She pressed a hand gently against his shoulder, pushing him back against the soft cushions beneath his body. She was as pretty as he remembered, and her full, pink lips smiled at him. Memory slowly seeped back to him.