Read Tiger's Curse Page 11


  10

  a safe haven

  well, I guess that it’s back to the jungle for us, eh, Ren?”

  He didn’t turn around to acknowledge my comment but kept treading slowly on ahead. I trudged along behind, thinking about all the questions I would ask when he changed back into a man again.

  After walking for a couple of hours, we came upon a small lake. I guessed that this was the Suki Lake Phet had been talking about. There were, indeed, many birds here. Ducks, geese, kingfishers, cranes, and sandpipers dotted the water and the sandbanks looking for food. I even spied larger birds, maybe eagles or hawks of some type, circling overhead.

  Our arrival disturbed a flock of herons, which took off in a brief frenzied flight and then settled again in the water on the far side of the lake. Little birds darted around everywhere in colors of green, yellow, gray, blue, and black with red chests, but I didn’t see any of Durga’s hatchlings.

  Where the trees shaded the water, clusters of lily pads made good places for frogs to perch and rest. They watched us with beady yellow eyes and jumped into the water with a plop as we passed by. I saw more frogs swimming and darting among the other flowering water plants near the lake’s shoreline.

  I spoke as much to myself as to Ren, “Do you think there are any alligators or crocodiles in the lake? I know one of those is indigenous to America, but I can never remember which one is which.”

  He started walking alongside me, and I wasn’t sure if that meant there were dangerous reptiles to watch out for or if he just wanted to keep me company. I let him walk between the lake and me just to be on the safe side.

  The air was hot, and the jungle drooped, sagging under the heat. The sky was bright, with not one monsoon cloud to provide shade. I was sweating hard. Ren led us through the shade of the trees as much as possible to keep us cool and help make the trip a bit more bearable, but I was still miserable. While skirting the edge of the lake, he kept up a slow and steady pace that I could follow easily. Even so, I could feel blisters forming on my heels. I pulled sunscreen out of the backpack and dabbed it on my face and arms. My compass indicated that we were traveling north.

  When Red stopped to drink at a small stream, I discovered that Phet had packed lunch. It was a large green leaf wrapped around a ball of sticky white rice stuffed with spicy meat and vegetables. It was bit too spicy for my taste, but the plain rice helped staunch the heat. Finding two more leaf wraps in the backpack, I tossed them to Ren, who showed off by leaping up and catching them in the air. He, of course, gulped them down whole.

  Hiking for about four more hours, we finally broke out of the jungle and onto a small road. I was happy to walk on the smooth pavement—at least until it started burning my soles. I could have sworn that the hot, black tar was melting the rubber on the bottom of my shoes.

  Ren stuck his nose in the air, turned right, and marched alongside the road for a half mile or so until we came upon a brand new, metallic green Jeep SUV. It had tinted windows and a black hard top.

  Ren stopped next to the Jeep and sat down.

  I panted, took a long swig of water, and said, “What? What do you want me to do?”

  Ren just stared blankly.

  “Is it the car? You want me to get in the car? Okay, I just hope the owner doesn’t get mad.”

  Pulling the door open, I found a note from Mr. Kadam on the driver’s seat.

  Miss Kelsey,

  Please forgive me. I wanted to tell you the truth.

  Here is a map with directions to Ren’s home. I will meet you there.

  The key is in the glove box. Don’t forget to drive on the left side of the road.

  The trip will take about an hour and a half. I hope you are safe.

  Your friend,

  Anik Kadam

  I picked up the map and placed it on the passenger seat. Opening up the back door, I threw in the bags and pulled out another water bottle for the drive. Ren hopped up into the back and stretched out.

  I swung into the driver’s seat and popped open the glove compartment to find a small ring of the promised keys. The big one read Jeep. I started the engine and smiled gratefully as a rush of cold air blew in from the vents.

  When I pulled out onto the small, vacant road, a little voice on a GPS device chirruped: “Drive fifty kilometers. Then turn left.”

  Staying on the left side of the road and gripping the wheel, I looked down at my hand. Despite sweating and wiping at my face constantly, Phet’s ink design was still there, as permanent as a tattoo. I turned on the radio, found a station that played interesting music, and let it keep me company on the drive while Ren napped in the back.

  Mr. Kadam’s directions, in addition to the GPS unit, were easy to follow. There was almost no traffic along the route he had chosen, which was good, because every time a car passed me, I clutched the wheel nervously. I had just learned how to drive on the right side of the road, and switching sides was not easy. Driving on the “wrong” side of the road certainly wasn’t covered in driver’s ed.

  After an hour, the directions said to turn onto a small dirt road. There was no name on the path, but the GPS beeped that we were at the right place, so I turned and entered deep jungle. We seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, but the road was maintained and the drive was smooth.

  The sun was setting and the sky was turning dark, when the road opened up into a cobbled brightly lit drive that circled around a tall sparkling fountain. Flowers surrounded the fountain, and sitting behind it was the most gorgeous home I’d ever seen. It looked like a multimillion dollar mansion that might be found in the tropics or perhaps sitting on the shores of Greece. I imagined the perfect place for it would be on the peak of an island overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

  I parked, opened the doors, and marveled at the magnificent setting.

  I exclaimed, “Ren, your home is amazing! I can’t believe you own this!”

  Grabbing my bags, I walked slowly up the paved stone walkway and admired the four-car garage. I wondered what types of vehicles were housed there. Beautiful tropical plants surrounded the home, turning the grounds into a lush paradise. I recognized plumeria flowers, bird-of-paradise, ornamental bamboo, tall royal palms, thick ferns, and leafy banana trees, but there were many others as well. A curved pool and hot tub were lit up on the side of the house, and a glittering fountain sprayed water from the pool into the air while rotating its patterns and colors.

  The three-story house was painted white and cream. The second floor had a covered, wraparound veranda with wrought iron balustrades, supported by cream-colored pillars. The upper floor featured tall, arched balconies while sparkling panoramic windows were the feature of the main floor.

  When Ren and I approached the marble and teakwood entryway, I twisted the doorknob and found the door unlocked. The outside was warm and vibrant, reflecting the intense, bold colors of India. The inside was opulent and lovely, decorated in cooler shades.

  This sure beats sleeping on the ground in the jungle.

  We stepped into the wide, dramatic foyer. The entryway had vaulted ceilings, exquisite marble flooring, and a curved sweeping staircase with ornate ironwork balustrades. The room was capped by a dazzling crystal chandelier. Huge windows showcased the panoramic view of the surrounding jungle.

  I slipped out of my sneakers, regretting how dirty they were, and crossed the foyer into a gentleman’s library. Dark brown leather chairs, ottomans, and cozy couches were set atop a beautiful rug. A large globe stood in the corner, and the walls were lined with bookshelves. There was even a sliding ladder reaching up to the top shelves. A heavy desk sat to one side with a leather chair. It was meticulously neat and organized, immediately reminding me of Mr. Kadam.

  A carved stone fireplace took up one wall. I couldn’t imagine when a fireplace would ever be used in India, but it was a beautiful showpiece nonetheless. A golden vase full of peacock feathers picked up the teal, green, and purple accents of the throw pillows and rugs. I thought it was the mos
t beautiful library in the world.

  As we made our way into the house, I heard Mr. Kadam call out, “Miss Kelsey? Is that you?”

  I had been determined to be upset with both him and Ren but discovered I couldn’t wait to see him.

  “Yes, it’s me, Mr. Kadam.”

  I found him in Ren’s large, stainless steel gourmet kitchen. It had a black marble floor, granite countertops, and double ovens, where Mr. Kadam had been busy preparing a meal.

  “Miss Kelsey!” The businessman rushed toward me and said, “I’m so glad you are safe. I hope you aren’t terribly angry with me.”

  “Well, I’m not too happy about how everything happened, but,” I grinned at him and looked down at the tiger, “I blame this guy more than you. He admitted that you wanted to tell me the truth.”

  Mr. Kadam grimaced apologetically and nodded. “Please forgive both of us. We never intended to upset you. Come. I have prepared a meal.”

  He bustled back to the kitchen, pulled open the door to a room full of fragrant fresh and dried spices, and disappeared inside for several minutes. When he stepped out, he deposited his selections on the kitchen island and opened another small door to a deep, walk-in butler’s pantry. I peeked inside and saw shelves full of fancy dishes and goblets including an impressive collection of silver. He pulled out two delicate china plates and two goblets and then set them on the table.

  I closed the door. “Mr. Kadam, something’s been bothering me.”

  He teased, “Only one thing?”

  I laughed. “For now. I’ve been wondering, did you ever really ask Mr. Davis to come with you to take care of Ren? I mean, what would you have done if he’d said yes and I’d said no?”

  “I did ask him, just to keep up appearances, but I also suggested subtly to Mr. Maurizio that it might be in his best interest to persuade Mr. Davis not to go. In fact, I offered him more money if he would insist Mr. Davis stay with the circus. As far as what to do if you had turned us down, I suppose we would have had to make you a better offer and keep trying until we found one you couldn’t refuse.”

  “What if I still said no? Would you have kidnapped me?”

  Mr. Kadam laughed. “No. If our offer had still been turned down, my next step would have been to tell you the truth and hope you believed me.”

  “Whew, that’s a relief.”

  “Then I would have kidnapped you.” He chuckled at his joke and turned his attention back to our dinner.

  “That’s not very funny, Mr. Kadam.”

  “I couldn’t resist. Sorry, Miss Kelsey.”

  He led me out of the kitchen to a small breakfast nook. We sat at a round table next to a bay window that overlooked an illuminated swimming pool. Ren settled himself at my feet.

  Mr. Kadam wanted to know everything that had happened to me since I’d last seen him. I told him about the truck, and found out that he paid the driver to leave me stranded. Then we talked about the jungle and Phet.

  Mr. Kadam asked many questions about my conversations with Phet and was particularly interested in my henna design. He turned my hand over and closely examined the symbols on each side.

  “So you are the favored one of Durga,” he concluded, leaned back in his chair, and smiled.

  “How did you know I was the right person? I mean, how did you know it was me who would be able to break the curse?”

  “We were not really sure that you were the right person until you met Phet and he confirmed it. When Ren was in captivity, he could not alter his form. Somehow, you spoke the words that set him free. It allowed him to change to a man again and contact me. We hoped that you were the right person to break the curse, the one that we’d been searching for, Durga’s favored one.”

  “Mr. Kadam, who is Durga?”

  Mr. Kadam retrieved a small golden statuette from the other room and placed it delicately on the dinner table. It was a beautifully carved Indian goddess with eight arms. She was shooting a bow and arrow— and she was riding a tiger.

  Touching a delicate carved arm, I said, “Please tell me about her.”

  “Of course, Miss Kelsey. In the language of the Hindus, Durga means ‘invincible one.’ She is a great warrior and considered the mother goddess of many of the other gods and goddesses of India. She has at her command many weapons and rides a magnificent tiger named Damon into war. A very beautiful goddess, she’s been described as having long curly hair and a bright complexion that glows even brighter when she is engaged in battle. She’s often dressed in cerulean robes, the color of the sea, and jeweled ornaments of carved gold, precious gemstones, and shiny black pearls.”

  I turned the statue. “What are the weapons she’s holding?”

  “There are several different depictions of her throughout India. In each one, Durga has a slightly different number of arms and array of weapons. This statue shows a trident, a bow and arrow, the sword, and a gada, which is similar to a mace or a club. She is also carrying a kamandal, or conch shell, a chakram, a snake, and armor with a shield. I have seen other drawings of Durga with a rope, a bell, and a lotus flower. Not only does Durga have multiple weapons at her disposal, but also she can manipulate lightning and thunder as well.”

  I picked up the statue and looked at it from different angles. The eight arms were fearsome. Note to self: in a battle against Durga, run the other direction.

  Mr. Kadam continued, “The goddess Durga was born out of the river to help humanity in their time of need. She fought a demon, Mahishasur, who was half-human and half-buffalo. He terrorized the earth and the heavens, and no one could kill him. So Durga took the form of a warrior goddess to defeat him. She is also called The Fair Lady because of her great beauty.”

  Placing the statue back on the table, I said uncertainly, “Mr. Kadam, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, and I hope I don’t offend you, but I don’t really believe in this kind of stuff. I think it’s fascinating, but it seems too weird to be real. I feel like I’m stuck in some kind of Indian myth in The Twilight Zone.”

  Mr. Kadam smiled. “Ah, Miss Kelsey, don’t worry. No offense taken. During my travels and my research trying to help Ren and his brother Kishan break the curse, I have had to open myself to new ideas and beliefs that I, too, had never considered before. What is real and what is not is for your heart to decide and for your heart to know.

  “Now, you must be tired from your journey. I will show you to your room where you can rest.”

  He led me upstairs to a large bedroom decorated in plum and white with gold trim. A round vase of white roses and gardenias lightly perfumed the room. A four-poster bed with mounds of plum-colored pillows adorning it was set against the wall. Thick piled white carpet covered the floor. Beveled glass doors opened to the largest veranda I’d ever seen and overlooked the pool and fountain.

  “It’s lovely! Thank you, Mr. Kadam.”

  He nodded and left me, closing the door softly behind him.

  I yanked off my socks and enjoyed walking barefoot on the plush carpet. Textured glass doors opened into a stunning bathroom bigger than Mike and Sarah’s entire first floor. There was a white marble deep-plunge spa tub and a huge shower that could also function as a steam room. Soft plum-colored towels hung on a heated rack and glass bottles held soaps and bubble bath in lavender and peach fragrances.

  Next to the bathroom was a walk-in closet with white padded changing benches, hutches, and drawers. One side was empty and the other side held a rack of brand new clothes still wrapped in cellophane. The dresser was also full of clothes. A whole wall was built just to hold shoes, but it was mostly empty. One new shoebox sat there waiting to be opened.

  After a thoroughly relaxing shower and braiding my hair, I unpacked my few clothes and arranged them in the closet and the dresser. I set my makeup, compacts, hairbrush, and ribbons on a mirrored tray lying on the marble sink and rolled up the cord of my flat iron and stowed it in a drawer.

  Dressed in pajamas, I scooted to the back of the bed and had just pulled out my poe
try book when I heard a light tapping at the open veranda doors. I looked out at the veranda and my heart started pounding in my chest. A man was standing out there. I caught a flash of blue eyes—Ren, the Indian prince version. When I stepped outside, I noticed that his hair was wet, and he smelled wonderful, like waterfalls and the woods mixed together. He was so good looking that I felt even mousier than usual. As I walked toward him, my heart began to beat even faster.

  Ren looked at me and frowned. “Why aren’t you wearing the clothes I bought you? The ones in your closet and dresser?”

  “Oh. You mean those clothes are for me?” I asked, confused and tongue-tied.

  “I didn’t . . . But . . . Why would you . . . How . . . Well, anyway, thank you. And thank you for the use of the beautiful room.”

  Ren smiled at me widely and almost knocked me off my feet. He took hold of a wisp of my hair that had come loose in the breeze, tucked it behind my ear, and said, “Did you like your flowers?”

  I just stared at him, then blinked and managed to squeak out a tiny yes. He nodded, satisfied, and gestured to the patio chairs. I bobbed my head faintly and sucked in a breath as he took my elbow and guided me to a chair. After making sure I was comfortable, he moved to the chair opposite from me. I guess because I was just staring at him and couldn’t come up with a coherent thought of my own, he began speaking.

  “Kelsey, I know you have many questions for me. What would you like to know first?”

  I was mesmerized by his bright blue eyes, which somehow sparkled even in the dark. Finally, I snapped out of it. I mumbled the first thought that came to mind: “You don’t look like other Indian men. Your . . . your eyes look . . . different and . . .” I stammered lamely. Why can’t I get it together?

  If I sounded idiotic, Ren didn’t seem to notice.

  “My father was of Indian descent, but my mother was Asian. She was a princess from another country who was betrothed to my father to become his bride. Plus, I’m more than three hundred years old, which might make a difference too, I suppose.”