Blackwater Lights (6 page)

“Good man,” Crawford said. “Don!”

An overweight middle-aged man in a satiny black shirt appeared in the doorway.

“Don—magic man. An E for our friend Ray.”

Don waved his open palms in front of Ray, then his left hand darted behind Ray’s ear. When it came back into view, his fingers held a clear gelatin capsule. He waved his right hand, reached behind his back, and brought forward a glass of water.

A magician. Ray laughed. He took the capsule and held it up. It was three-quarters full of an off-white, crystalline powder.

“Don’t worry,” Crawford said. “It’s as pure as it gets. The real deal. One hundred and fifty milligrams of copacetic dynamite.”

Ray looked at Crawford, then Lily. He dropped the capsule on his tongue and washed it down with the water. The music—electronic-tinged jazz—accelerated, as if on cue. Lily started dancing, her hair swinging. In another room, someone howled.

“Welcome to the party, Ray,” Crawford said. “Come see me later—I’d like to talk to you about a few things.”

Lily led Ray around the enormous house. His stomach fluttered, the pre-drug anxiety that he now recalled all too well. Crawford was an art collector. Ray didn’t know a lot about art, but Lisa had taken him to plenty of galleries, and he recognized a Bosch, what might have been a Brueghel, and a definite Kandinsky. A marble statue of a satyr with an erect penis stood at the foot of the staircase, goat-hoofed, dancing, and playing a flute.

“This is the gallery. Crawford’s collection is … well, look—come here. Touch this.” She beckoned Ray to a squiggle-covered rock tablet mounted on a Lucite stand. “Go ahead. Touch it. Guess how old it is.”

Ray touched the stone. “Well, it looks like … I don’t know. Hieroglyphics. But older … right? Pre-Egyptian?”

“Much older. It’s Akkadian. From Sumeria—the city of Shuruppak. You just touched one
of the earliest pieces of human writing. A prayer to Ninlil, goddess of grain and the sky. Over five thousand years old.”

“Damn,” he said.

“And that one.” She pointed to a worn, nearly featureless, curvy piece of dark stone with a feline head. “Labartu. The ultimate bad mother.” She ran her fingers along the eroded figure. He studied her delicate face as she lost herself in the contours of the stone. “She’s my favorite.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Powerful women turn me on.” She pulled his arm. “Come on. Let’s go outside.” She said
outside
as if it were the most exotic place in the world.

“Look at the stars,” Lily said. “Are you feeling it yet?”

They had retreated to the gardens behind the house, and she was cradling Ray’s head in her lap. “God, yes.” He took a deep breath. “Jesus. I forgot about this. It’s intense.”

“Just let it work its way through you,” she said, stroking his face. “Let it find where it needs to go.” Her fingers traced his cheekbones, then his ears. She kissed his forehead. “You’re a sweet man, Ray. And very special. I think we’d work well together.”

Ray’s teeth clenched. The entire world was in motion, flicking back and forth, up and down. The stars in the sky were zigzagging streaks of light. His back was melting into Lily’s damp, warm legs. “What?”

“You’re here for a reason. You know that, don’t you?” She stroked his face. “You came back because they wanted you to come back.”

The world zipped forward and backward in sharp staccato bursts. Ray closed his eyes, but even the insides of his eyelids were zooming in and out. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time … I’m … I don’t understand what you’re saying. I’m fucked up.”

She sighed. “Shhh. It’s okay.” She kissed his forehead again. “You’re fine. Just breathe. Breathe deeply. Come on.”

He inhaled the brisk air. Exhaled. Her fingers rubbed his temples and worked their way down to his jaw. He could just lie here, staring at the swirling stars, feeling those strong fingers against his skin, massaging the contours of his bones and muscles. He followed her words and
breathed deeply, in and out, until the stars stopped jumping around. Finally he exhaled and everything righted itself.

“Come on. Let’s get up.” She shook his shoulders and pulled him to a sitting position. “You’re getting lost in your head. You need to move. Circulate that energy.” She pulled him to his feet. The world shifted and then solidified. Blood sloshed and energy pathways opened. She was right. It felt good to stand up. She put her hands on her hips. “Take off those silly boots.”

He struggled with the laces and she helped him. His feet felt like they’d been liberated from a dank dungeon. He wiggled his toes. “Jesus. Thank you. Oh my God, that is so much better.”

She held out her arms. “See all this? It’s a night-blooming garden. It comes alive in the moonlight.” She pulled him to a dark cluster of vines. “Smell that,” she said, closing his eyes with her fingertips and pushing his face forward into a bell-shaped white flower.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“Datura. Angel’s trumpet.” Her fingers slid through his hair like electricity. “A visionary plant.”

He inhaled deeply.
Visionary. Like you
.

She led him through the gardens, which extended far behind the house. The easy Ecstasy glow had overtaken the jittery come-on.
This
was the feeling he remembered—a loss of fear and an unabashed openness. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I think I was wigging out back there. I’m feeling more normal now. My eyes are still flicking back and forth like crazy.”

“Nystagmus,” she said. “It happens with E.”

“Yeah. It’s still happening, but not as much.” He breathed deeply. “This feels really, really good, Lily. Goddamn, this feels so good. Thank you. Thank you for inviting me.” His teeth squeaked as they scraped together.

“Stop clenching,” she said, massaging Ray’s tight jaws. “It’s my pleasure, sharing this with you. He has one of the most specialized gardens in the world—there’s nothing like this anywhere else, on this scale. This much green magic.”

Crawford. He was all she thought about.

Her voice rose in pitch. “He trained with a
brujo
in Mexico, and a
vegetalista
in the Amazon. He learned their songs, the
icaros
they use to paint pictures in the air. And he trained as a chemist. He made this Ecstasy, in fact.” She danced to the distant beat from inside the house,
eyes closed, swinging her arms from side to side.

“Doesn’t he worry about … the police?”

“He doesn’t have to worry. He has friends in all sorts of places.” Lily stopped swaying and put her hands on Ray’s shoulders. “He likes you,” she said. “I can tell. When I met you I knew you were perfect for him. For
us
. We could have a
lot
of fun together. Stuff you can’t even imagine.”

Ray cocked his head, perplexed. Was she suggesting a threesome? “Like?”

“He has a gift for finding people like you. He has lots of people who work for him. You should come and work with us, Ray.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean. What kind of work?” Even with the Ecstasy short-circuiting all the negativity in his brain, the thought of working for Crawford gave him the creeps.

“Well … like manifesting things. Making things happen. Connecting people. Reshaping reality.” She closed her eyes. “The Great Work.”

“I … I’m not sure I understand.”

“You will. But we have plenty of time to talk about specifics. I want to have some more fun while I’m feeling this good.” She reached into a pocket inside her skirt and pulled out a glass vial. “Let’s snort some 2C-B and go swimming.” She put her arm around him and pulled.

Ray held her arm. He was still a little unsteady. “What’s 2C-B?”

“More fun stuff,” she said, tugging at him. “Let’s go. I feel like getting naked.” She poked him in the side. “Race you to the pool.”

He followed her through the fragrant forest of night-blooming flowers toward the blue glow of a swimming pool, feet slapping deliciously against a pathway of cool, mossy stones.

Lily laid out a line of the drug on a table beside the pool.

“Ouch,” he said after he’d inhaled it. “Fuck!” His left nostril was aflame. “Shit.
Shit!
”

Lily snorted a line herself. “I know,” she said, her face wrinkling. “It burns. But just wait. It’s worth it.” She grimaced, clenching her fists.

Ray sat back against his chair. It was hard to sit up. As the pain subsided, everything around him started to sparkle and scintillate. The candles scattered around the pool exploded into brilliant gems.

She was feeling it, too, her eyes widening in astonishment. “That’s nice, isn’t it? 2C-B
makes everything so much more beautiful, especially on top of good E,” she said. “It’s sensual and I think it makes the world … more alive. Or allows us to see how alive it is.” She pulled off her shirt and her bare breasts shook, nipples hardening in the night air. “Crawford says it’s the ultimate aphrodisiac. It makes you want to fuck the whole world.”

Lily pulled off her skirt and stepped out of her tiny black panties. She dove into the pool, barely breaking the surface, and swam to the opposite side. She surfaced and blew her nose loudly into her hands. “Come on. Get in. It feels great.”

She was a blue nymph, glowing ultramarine in the pool lights. “Do you ever slow down?” Ray asked.

She splashed him. “Never. Take your clothes off. Get naked and get in.”

He sat up, tracers of light tracking with his eyes.

“Get in, Ray. Come on.”

He struggled to speak. His head was fucked up, but something deep and sober was screaming at him to stop—just
stop
. The ball was rolling down the hill way too fast. “I don’t know. I think I just need to sit here for a minute.”

Buzzkill.
Bzzzt
.

Lily swam to the edge of the pool. “What’s wrong? Are you afraid to take your clothes off?” The tips of her breasts hung just below the waterline. She laughed. “Ray, I’m asking you to go swimming. I’m not trying to
fuck
you.” She splashed him again. “Come on, get in. I promise I won’t even touch you.” She sank beneath the water.

Ray blushed, cursing himself. He’d screw up his chances if he kept flaking out. He pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. Lily’s slender, fishlike form rippled beneath the surface.
Fuck it
, he thought, dropping his jeans and shaking off his boxers.

The water was warm. Every inch of his skin exploded with shocked pleasure. He opened his eyes beneath the surface. The bottom of the pool was tiled with a mosaic of grinning satyrs and dancing women with short, wide swords. He looked toward the surface, disoriented, momentarily unsure which way was up. The water felt thick, like viscous gelatin—a gel that stimulated every pleasure receptor in his skin.

Lily’s hands snaked around his chest from behind. He turned and she smiled at him, her hair fanning out around her head and glowing purplish. Tiny, pearl-like bubbles escaped from her mouth. Her breasts floated weightlessly, in synchrony. She pushed Ray toward the surface.

The air stung like ice. Burning, invigorating ice. “Oh my God,” he said. “Every inch of my body is …” He couldn’t finish, but started laughing.

“Told you it’s good,” she said, swimming in place. “You look beautiful in this light. So … pure. And vibrant.” She slid her hands over his chest and brushed her foot against his. “Oh, wait.” She pushed off, propelling herself backward. “I promised I wouldn’t touch you. I must have lied. I’m a bad girl like that sometimes.” She backstroked to the shallow end of the pool.

He followed, as if chained.

Lily climbed up the steps out of the pool. Her skin glistened, each drop of water shooting off bright threads of light. And he wanted her. He wanted nothing else. He wanted more than anything to rub his hands and his tongue over that smooth belly, to press himself against that dark, warm place between her legs. He felt like he’d die if he didn’t.

“I’m going in the greenhouse,” she said. “It’s warm in there. We can lie on the grass. You want to come with me?”

“Yes,” he said, stumbling on the pool steps. “Wow. I’m really fucked up.”

“Yes, you are. Your eyes are opening up.”

She was splitting into two, then three, phasing in and out.