Dark Lightning Page 5

  Ugo’s brother Munachi wandered downstream from the rest, chasing grasshoppers and humming to himself. As the eight-year-old came upon a large tree, he went over and squatted behind it, heeding the call of nature.

  He peered through the tall grass, watching the other boys finish bathing and begin collecting sticks to hunt for grubs on the way back to the village. His older brother Ugo was marching around, playfully brandishing a gnarled branch. He laughed as his friends scattered like gulls while Ugo gave chase.

  “I am the spirit Dark Lightning!” Ugo shouted, making a fierce, warrior-like face. “I will swallow you up and take you far away, past the Evil Forest to the sea!”

  The boys’ horrified shrieks made Munachi giggle again as he finished his business with the tree and stood up.

  A moment later, he felt something large and heavy glide over his foot. Munachi gasped in alarm: A rock python as long as two men slithered between his ankles and swiftly wound its way up his slender calf.

  “Aaahhh!”

  The boy struggled in vain to pull his leg free while the snake regarded him with pitiless, glassy black eyes. Fear surged through Munachi’s small body, and he became increasingly conscious of his dangerous predicament. To drag the enormous reptile along the ground was impossible, and the more he moved, the tighter the monster seemed to coil around him.

  Filled with panic, he hollered loudly, yet no one came to his aid. Tears formed dark wet streaks down his cheeks. Where were the others? Could they not hear his cries?

  Suddenly the urge to run overwhelmed Munachi. He lurched forward and toppled to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs. His mouth gaped in a silent scream.

  When he recovered his breath, Munachi began to shriek again. He pounded and clawed at the deadly stack of scaly coils that enveloped his leg. “UGO! HELP ME!” the terrified boy screamed between sobs.

  “Munachi?” shouted a distant voice. “Munachi!”

  ***

  Ugo and the others barreled through the brush to investigate the cause of Munachi’s distress. They skidded to a stop when they reached the clearing, almost piling on top of each other when they saw Munachi wrapped in the python’s deadly grip. Everyone except Ugo jumped back and spread out to a safe distance.

  One of the boys who had thrown Ugo in the river earlier grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away. “Ugo, watch out!” he shouted. “It’s a python!”

  “I can see that,” Ugo said. He shook off the boy’s hand and walked forward to take stock of the grim scene, his expression intense.

  “Look—it moves toward his neck,” another boy called.

  Ugo and the rest watched in horror as the snake’s sizable head rose slowly up his brother’s torso, its black tongue flicking out to sense its prey.

  Aware of the growing danger, all the boys started yelling at once. Some waved their arms in an attempt to distract the python, others called on Munachi’s personal chi spirit to protect him. Ugo’s mind labored for a way to force the snake to release its steely grip upon his little brother.

  “Quiet, all of you—I need to think!” Ugo shouted. He scanned the faces that surrounded him and sought out two of the quickest boys. He grabbed them both by the shoulders. “Go to the village and get help. Quickly!”

  They took off down the path at a sprint.

  Ugo turned around. Munachi’s dark eyes bulged in horror. The rest of the boys spoke in frightened murmurs as they observed the lethal spectacle before them. Ugo moved forward to quiet his brother’s incessant shrieking.

  “Ugo!” choked Munachi, his shoulders heaving with sobs. He reached a small hand out to his older brother from the ground where he lay. “You must help me, Ugo!”

  “Shhh, it will be all right, Munachi. Be still,” Ugo said soothingly, not quite believing his own words. Frantic, he looked around the clearing, then down at the teakwood branch in his hand. He formed an idea, but getting his brother to cooperate was another matter.

  “Your arms—raise your arms,” Ugo shouted to him.

  Munachi flailed all over the place, hysterical. “I…don’t want…to die!”

  “You must be calm, Munachi!” Ugo commanded.

  “Ugo…” Munachi choked, his breath becoming gasps. “I…cannot…breathe…”

  “Listen to me!” Ugo barked at his brother. “Put up your arms. Roll to me, this way.” Ugo hastily twirled around to demonstrate what he wanted the little boy to do. “Do it!” he yelled.

  On the ground, Munachi managed to turn his shoulders toward Ugo, trying to roll. He obediently raised his hands above his head, strangling back his terrified sobs. The serpent’s head now glided across the ground instead of the child’s body.

  Ugo knew he didn’t have much time. He had one chance to kill the snake, for as soon as its thick, muscular body closed around Munachi’s throat, his brother would suffocate in only moments. Ugo’s heart pounded relentlessly inside his chest. I am the one they call Eagle, he told himself, and I will not miss.

  The python’s natural camouflage made its head difficult to spot against the leaf-strewn forest floor, but Ugo’s acute vision sought out the flickering tongue and he raised the gnarled branch with both hands.

  “Wait!” shouted one of the older boys. “That is a sacred animal. If you kill it, you may anger the gods!”

  Ugo cursed and lowered his arms. He stared at the boy, fuming with anger. How dare he speak at such a crucial moment?

  But I know that he’s right.

  Ugo’s thoughts churned. If he killed the python, the earth goddess might seek vengeance against his family. But if he let his brother die, the whole village would know him as a coward.

  Cowards didn’t get to be chief.

  Ugo ground his teeth. He looked back at Munachi’s shaking, whimpering form. He could make retribution for killing the snake later, but he would never have another opportunity to save his brother.

  With all his strength, he swiftly brought the piece of driftwood down as hard as he could, narrowly avoiding Munachi’s face. Blood shot out of the snake’s mouth and spattered Ugo’s bare feet while he repeatedly smashed the python between the eyes. He swung the club over and over until the snake’s scaly coils went slack and loosened their grip on his brother’s body.

  When it was over, Ugo sank to the ground. The teak branch fell from his shaking fingers.

  “Ọ di m nwute,” he whispered to the snake’s flattened head. I am sorry.

  Moments later, several adults from the village rushed into the clearing and uttered a collective gasp at the grisly scene before them. Ugo looked up. His mother stood in front of the crowd, staring at him in horror. She struck the top of her head with her fists.

  “Ugonna!” she wailed. “What have you done?”

  FIVE

  HAVEN CREPT UP a majestic white staircase, her suede boots soundless on the stone treads. She bit her lip and looked down to see a porcelain urn overflowing with fragrant peonies. The vast, two-story room teemed with the trappings of old money: colossal oil paintings and finely woven tapestries, candelabras dripping with crystal and bronze statuettes. A group of richly upholstered silk chairs flanked a large, marble-topped table in the middle of the space.

  The room reminded Haven of a sumptuous theater lobby…but which one? Oddly enough, she seemed to have forgotten where she was. I must be in Philadelphia…or maybe New York?

  For that matter, she couldn’t recall entering the front door.

  “Hello?”

  Haven’s voice echoed off the wall of floor-to-ceiling Palladian windows, but she received no response. Where is everyone?

  She paused to the idyllic scene outside. Next to the building, a beautifully manicured flower garden lay nestled in a maze of tall hedges. Beyond that lay a wide expanse of gently sloping lawn where several flocks of sheep grazed serenely on the grass.

  This is no theater. I must be somewhere in the country.

  She frowned, recalling that her car was in the shop getting a new clutch.

&nbs
p; How did I get to the country?

  Puzzled, Haven continued up the stairway, urged onward by an unseen force that seemed to pull at the very core of her like an invisible tether. Her insides felt funny, and she rubbed at her abdomen. Where am I?

  In that moment, the silence was broken by a raspy voice.

  IT WAITS.

  Startled, Haven looked to her left and right and behind her—but she was alone. Then she realized with a shock that the voice was inside her head. Again, it spoke to her.

  DESTINY LIES WITHIN.

  The words weren’t English—they could have been Arabic, maybe, or some African dialect. Somehow, though, she understood them. She’d heard this voice once before—on the night her mother was taken to the mental hospital. Give her time, it had said to her. Back then, Haven decided she must have imagined those odd words, but now the bodiless messenger was back.

  And it was creeping her out.

  Haven’s unease grew by the minute. Really? My ‘destiny’? What kind of lame nonsense…ugh, I must’ve had too much caffeine this morning.

  GO BACK TO GO FORWARD.

  What?

  What was that supposed to mean?

  “No!” Haven said out loud. “Stop it! Get out of my head!”

  Hearing voices was bad. She really didn’t want to end up like her mother—broken, a hopeless mental case, living like a recluse in some rundown apartment with a dozen mangy cats. Haven pressed on her ears to shut out the messages, but it didn’t do any good.

  IT WILL BE ALL RIGHT IN THE END.

  Though she didn’t know why, this made her feel better. Calm, almost.

  TRUST IN YOURSELF.

  Okay…I’ll try.

  Haven took a deep breath and let the feeling lead her onward. Yes, all right, take me there. She climbed higher, trailing her hand over the cool marble handrail, eager to find out what was waiting for her inside this impressive house.

  Nearing the third floor, Haven gazed at the beautifully painted ceiling running the length of the hallway. Scores of tiny cherubs appeared throughout the fresco, their feathery wings frozen in mid-flight. She stared at their plump little hands and noticed they were all pointing in one direction.

  Intrigued, she followed the cherubs’ vacant gazes over to a pair of white and gold French doors. Instead of glass, the panes were fitted with beveled mirrors, completely concealing whatever lay beyond. Haven waved her arm when she approached them, smiling as her reflection fractured in intriguing ways.

  To one side of the doors stood a marble-topped console table, and above that hung an enormous painting of a woman holding an earthen jug. Haven examined the lifelike figure, admiring the skillful use of pigment to create light and shadows. The work was probably quite old—Haven guessed it dated from the early 1500s.

  She stood on her tiptoes to read the artist’s signature: Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino.

  Haven gasped. Raphael! She’d instantly recognized the name of the Italian Renaissance master—and knew this painting was absolutely priceless.

  Cre-e-e-ak.

  She whipped around, startled by the noise.

  “Hello?”

  She scanned the balcony, but saw no one. She looked up. The unmoving cherubs stared back at her from their lofty perches, their fingers pointing at the door behind her. That way, they seemed to say.

  Haven felt something brush her boot and jumped, then exhaled with relief when she saw it was only a small, gray cat.

  “Hi there, kitty,” she said to it. “Where did you come from?”

  Haven watched as it scooted past her and slipped between the French doors, one of which stood ajar.

  Wait a minute…wasn’t that door closed a moment ago?

  “Hello?” Haven called again nervously. “Is anyone here?”

  A key rested in the lock, attached to a small bronze chain that hung bumping against the beveled mirror. Haven reached out and stilled it as a surge of adrenaline pulsed through her veins. Someone’s here. Grasping the brass handle, she pulled the door open and peered into the dark space beyond.

  “Hello?” she called.

  She found herself looking down a long, windowless corridor. The walls were a brilliant cobalt blue, and the floor was covered with a dizzying mosaic of light and dark marble tiles that zigzagged away into the darkness.

  Haven felt around unsuccessfully for a light switch. Must be a really old house…no lights, no light switches. She squinted into the dim corridor and spotted something at the end, something very large. She could just make out a hulking, rectangular shape squatting in the darkness.

  Her stomach clenched. She rubbed her arms to buff away the goose bumps. It’s here…I can feel it. Whatever I’m supposed to find is in this corridor. But what do I do when I’ve found it?

  She noticed some writing across the front of the oblong shape; only the thing was about forty feet away and she couldn’t read it. Haven crept forward, peering through the gloom.

  Her breath caught, and she stopped.

  Something shifted in front of it, blocking her view. Her heart began to thump loudly in her ears. Was that just a shadow? Or the silhouette of a person?

  Whatever it was, it was moving now.

  Haven glanced anxiously behind her. Damn it, she couldn’t see anything in here. Why hadn’t she opened the doors further to let in more light? She turned back to the corridor.

  The shadow had vanished.

  “Is anyone here?” Haven called, willing her voice not to shake.

  She heard a scuffle of footsteps beside her and spun. Someone smacked into her arm as he—or she—ran past in the darkness.

  “Ow…hey, watch out!”

  The shadowy figure raced away down the corridor, pausing in the shaft of light between the doors to look back. Haven squinted at the form: low-heeled shoes, shoulder-length hair and dressed in some kind of robe. She still couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman.

  “Wait,” Haven called, following the figure. “I don’t recognize this place. Could you…could you please tell me where I am?”

  To Haven’s surprise, the shadow gave a low chuckle and then slammed the door, plunging the entire hallway into black.

  She inhaled sharply, her blood wildly pulsing beneath her skin. It’s okay, Don’t panic. What was it that Dad used to say? Nothing’s here in the dark that wasn’t here in the light. Just feel your way back to the doors.

  Haven took a few deep breaths to calm the rushing in her ears, but before she could take another step, she heard a loud click and the sound of a key being withdrawn from the lock.

  “NO!” she shouted, her hands groping along the smooth plaster of the wall. “Wait! Don’t go, I was only looking around—I’m not here to take anything, I swear!”

  The footsteps faded away and didn’t return.

  The strange tugging sensation Haven felt earlier was still with her, but her overpowering anxiety left her with only one thought: get out of the blue corridor.

  There’s nothing here in the dark…there’s nothing here in the dark…

  Before she’d met the shadow, she’d noticed another door halfway down the corridor. I’ll feel my way over to that door, she thought. It might be a way out.

  Placing both hands on the plaster wall, Haven shuffled sideways until her fingers found the door’s frame and then the door handle. Please be unlocked. Haven pushed down on the lever and heard a soft click. Success!

  Just then, a brain-jarring, metallic BANG exploded in the air next to her ear.

  Haven screamed.

  SIX

  Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

  Saturday, October 6th, 8:15 a.m.

  HAVEN GASPED AND JERKED forward in the passenger seat of her brother’s car, her pulse thumping in her throat. She blinked a few times and stared out the windshield at the other vehicles on the Schuylkill Expressway.

  Thank goodness.

  The clock, the blue corridor, the laughing shadow—all of it had been a dream.

  A long-haul truck p
ulled ahead of them in the Saturday morning traffic, its trailer still rocking after contact with an enormous pothole. The safety chain clanked against the back door when the driver downshifted and steered toward an exit.

  Brian Meadows, Haven’s older brother, sat behind the wheel of his vintage brown Mercedes. His short, brown hair bristled against the collar of his camouflage jacket as he head-bobbed to a 90s rock song on the radio.

  “Geez…” Haven pressed a palm to her ear to quiet the jangling in her head. “That was like, so loud. My ear’s still ringing.”

  “Yeah, it’s a good thing we weren’t in the right lane. You could’ve parked a smart car in that pothole back there.” Brian threw her a sideways glance. “What’s the matter, kid…you have a rough night?”

  “Why?” Haven ruffled a hand through her long hair, still damp from the shower. “Do I look bad or something?”

  He grinned mischievously. “Not any worse than usual.”

  “Hilarious.”

  “No, really, you seem a little rundown today. You dozed off as soon as we left the campus. Everything okay?”

  Haven frowned. “Yeah, Bry, everything’s fine.” That was a lie, but since she’d never told Brian or his wife Amy about the strange visions she experienced from time to time, she wasn’t about to tell him about her bizarre encounter with the silver watch.

  “Oh, I get it,” Brain said, his tone becoming stern. “Did you and what’s-her-name hit the clubs last night?”

  “Who?”

  “You know…your new roommate…the one with the purple streak in her hair who answered the door this morning in cowboy pajamas. Hey, didn’t she come to our auction in Princeton last month?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can’t remember her name. Katie, was it? Or Krystal?”

  “It’s Kristy.” Haven pushed herself up and reached for her half-melted mocha frappuccino. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I stayed up late studying. I have two midterms next week.”

  Brian shook his head. “Wow, exams already? Seems like you just left for school the other week.”