Indigo Vamporium (3 page)

Now I feel just awful for intruding on his private time. He probably came down here to think, to get out and be alone with his problems.

He's just sitting there like brittle driftwood washed up and stranded. His sorrow is so obvious my heart kinks and aches, instantly uncomfortable in my chest.

I wish I could go and sit with him and give his hand a squeeze. He's too young to have such sadness in his heart.

Maybe his girl broke up with him?

I dunno. What I do know is I'm not going to embarrass him by letting him know I witnessed this. Turning, I quickly and quietly retrace my steps.

Poor guy.

Pausing when I reach the tall bushes at the entrance to Noordhoek beach, I look back down the white expanse to his solitary form.

In disbelief I watch him strip his clothes off and go running into the ocean at full throttle, diving into the waves and disappearing.

Heck! Oh blast, don't tell me he's trying to commit suicide or something?

I knew I should have brought my phone.

Panicked, I go sprinting back.

I can't swim in there! My swimming sucks badly in strong currents. I'm a shallow water swimmer and am in no way equipped to rescue anyone.

He's going to freeze to death out there.

Scanning the swells I wait for a silhouetted head to pop up in the shiny shadows. The sea still looks black and foreboding.

He's either stark raving mad or desperate.

When I can't see him, worry springs tears into my eyes. My gut is knotting and my hands are beginning to shake from cold and stress.

Pacing back and forth, searching, I almost cough on a choking breath when I see arms swimming in the round motion of an athlete slicing through the water.

He is seriously far out and I only spied him because he broke the gloss of a swell.

Crikey Taz. He's probably a swimmer and does this every morning. You're freaking out for nothing.

Now he's going to think I'm a creepy perv. If he sees me here he's going to assume I get my jollies catching naked swimmers having a private swim in their birthday suit.

Which I do not want to see anyhow!

He's not drowning, he's in control. He's probably too far away to see me if I walk back along the shrub line where the darkness of my clothes won't stick out the way it does while I'm standing here highlighted by sun bleached beach.

Scarpering, I run up to the greenery of the fynbos, looking back, still a little worried.

He's okay. Get out of here before he sees you.

My heart feels bruised and my eyes sting from the brisk cold of predawn breath, but I turn away so I'm not caught being a stalking voyeur. He's going to think I'm disturbed if he sees me out here this early pawing around his discarded clothes.

He might even think I have itchy fingers and am a closet kleptomaniac.

Ugh!

The more I think about it the worse it sounds.

Back in the entrance between the sparse big shrubs, I look back, hoping he's going to be okay out there. He could get hypothermia and cramp up, unable to swim back.

Anxiety clenches my innards and my conscience won't let me go. Looking around, I decide to climb up onto the huge boulders to the right of the entrance. They go quite a way, leading out into the ocean. Waves smack into them and send spray high up into the air. The rocks are dark and set up tight to the mountain coming down from Chapman's Peak.

Maybe if I sit there he won't notice me. At least then I'll be too far away to see any details but can make sure he makes it to shore safe and sound.

It's going to be damp and chilly, but what choice do I have?

Clambering, I monkey up the boulder to the flat jagged top. It's deeply creviced and pooling frigid saltwater. Picking my way carefully, I wish I'd brought something warmer to wear.

Sitting like a yogi, I fold my arms and watch him swim. He holds his breath like a diver because he disappears for ages before resurfacing yards away. He's fearless.

The rock face behind me is so cold this is like sitting in a morgue, and the endless smashing of waves sending water confetti into every gust wafting my way isn't helping either.

Covered in goosebumps, I wonder how he's still okay out there. He's not even wearing a wetsuit, he's stark naked. Checking my wristwatch, I time him. He's been out for fifteen minutes.

After half an hour he finally heads in, shaking the water out of his hair with an arrogant flick, strutting up to his clothes, not appearing in the least bit affected by the cryogenic frostiness of winter water. He's not rubbing his arms or curling his shoulders in.

What a freak.

He's just damn lucky. The currents are strong here which means he must be an incredibly potent swimmer. He should become a lifeguard if that's how he swims on a regular basis. Plus he's obviously completely immune to cold.

Maybe he got hot swimming? It's still exercise.

Yeah, maybe I'm frozen from sitting here in damp shade on a refrigerated rock.

Well he's safe. I'd better vanish before he comes this way.

Standing, briskly rubbing my arms, I hurry across the rocks and boost myself down, looking his way once more to check he hasn't collapsed.

Where did he go?

He was there a second ago!

Running out so I can get a good view of the deserted beach, I can't see him anywhere. His clothes are gone and so is he.

That's just weird.

If I hurry I can still get a run in before the surfers hit the beach. That way I can double check to see where his footprints lead.

Heading down the beach in a flat out sprint, I slow when I reach the spot where his clothes were. There are no footprints leading up to the shrubbery at the top of the incline. The only impressions I can see in the sand are my own.

It's like I imagined the whole thing.

Did I?

Scowling, I look up and down, back and forth.

It's completely deserted. I'm losing my mind, that, or the dude can fly.

Staring up, I check the sky. Not a bird, not a cloud, nothing.

Weird. Just freaky. I'm pretty sure that wasn't my imagination.

Unsettled, the strangeness of my morning circles my soul like a starving velociraptor, leaving me jogging in an introspective trance.

*

Seithe:

Flopping onto my bed I fold my hands behind my head and stare at the ceiling.

“Where were you?”

I wish Jowendrhan would stop pestering me. I'm only older than him by two years, but sometimes those two years feel like decades.

“I went for a swim,” I say in a flat tone, keeping my focus on the ceiling light.

“Did you see anything magical?” he asks, sitting next to my ankles at the end of the bed.

“Nope.” He punches me hard in the thigh, paralyzing it with instant numb. “What the hell, Jo!”

Snapping upright I swat him just as hard in the shoulder.

Folding into himself, gripping the point of impact, his eyes glower silver at me. “You could've told me so I could come too.”

He's in more pain than I am and it satisfies me. He should know better than to give me a dead leg. Skewering him with a glare, I punch his other arm with a raised knuckle so it hurts more. That gets him off my bed, standing halfway between me and the door for safety.

“I wanted to be alone,” is all I say in answer.

He doesn't need to know I'm messed up inside, unwilling to believe Venix that mom died a long time ago. My grief is raw and seeping, it hurts so much at times I find simple breathing a challenge.

I never have privacy because my brothers and sister never learned to knock. The only way to be alone is to vanish and not tell them when or where I am going.

Jowendrhan's bottom lip protrudes and I'm sent on an instant guilt trip. He's just a kid. I'm supposed to look out for him, I promised mom.

Sighing, I sit up, meeting his molten emotional stare with my own. “Fine, you wanna go to the beach and look for creatures? Let's go.”

Moving at true speed I flash off my bed, grab his arm, and pull us both through space, back to the beach.

Staggering to catch his balance, he sucks his breath in, looking up and down the strand with fear. “Seithe! You can't do that! What if someone saw us?”

“What if they did? They'd never believe it.”

“That's just stupid and reckless. Venix is gonna have a freaking aneurism over this,” he says.

“Then don't tell him, dipshit.”

“I don't have to! He'll know. He always knows,” says Jo.

“What do you care? It's my problem, not yours.”

Rubbing his arm where I punched him, he looks too young and slight in his oversized jeans and team shirt. He's a fan of the Yankees, but now we're in the wrong country. I doubt these savages even know what baseball is.

Laughing, I shake my head, staring back at the infinite ocean. “Don't sweat it. I'll handle Venix.”

He nudges me hard, “Isn't that the same chick you bumped into yesterday?”

Following his stare I inspect the babe running toward us, earphones in her ears and staring at the sand instead of where she's going. Same as yesterday. “She just zones out, doesn't she? It must be nice to shut out the world like that.”

“It's her, isn't it?”

I nod to Jo, “Yup, it's her.”

He elbows me again, “Surfers!”

“We need to get boards,” I mumble, watching the crew running down to the surf and jogging toward us, some still suiting up.

The first three reach us, giving us friendly smiles, saying, “Howzit.”

I nod to the dude with sun streaked dark blond hair, and to the scruffy chap right behind him. “Hello,” I say in return, watching them wistfully.

The third guy stops, leaving the other two ahead of him to go splashing into the bracing sea.

“You're not from around here. Where ya guys from?” he asks.

“Venezuela,” is all I say, playing it safe with the information. Our mom was Venezuelan and we share her honeyed complexion, brown hair and eyes. When we don't look like dad, that is.

“Is it? That's kief bru!” he nods, smiling, offering a hand for us to shake. “I'm Kevin.”

“Seithe,” I say, shaking his hand, gesturing to Jo, “And my brother Jowendrhan.”

“Awesome man. You guys here to surf?”

“We want to learn. We're here on vacation,” says Jo, before I can answer. Just then her footsteps intrude into the silent gap of our conversation and she slams into my arm just like she did yesterday.

Stepping back, clutching both hands over her heart like I just gave her the fright of her life, she stares at me, gasping, her cheeks blushing over their exercised flush.

She must be one of those weird health nuts I've read about.

Jo gets my attention, “Seals!”

He sounds so excited to see seals scuttling up the beach further down the white expanse.

Nodding, I look at Kevin and then Tasmin. I remember her name.

Stabilizing her with a hand on her arm, I smile as she unplugs the music from her ears, “You okay?”

She nods, giving me a strange stare, glancing up the beach to where I swam earlier. Her forehead creases and she shoots Kevin and his twin-fin board a glance, obviously embarrassed to bump into me with an audience present.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, moving to walk around us with her head down, but I keep the hold on her arm.

“I'll walk you for a bit,” I say, looking to Jowendrhan and saying telepathically,
Talk to Kevin and arrange a surfing lesson
. Smiling at him, I say, “Nice to meet you Kevin. See ya around.”

“Sharp,” he smiles, resuming his walk while Jo chews off his ear with questions about what he needs to take up surfing.

Looking down at Tasmin, I lose the smile, “You sure you're okay? You look a little troubled.”

“I'm fine,” she snaps breathlessly, still frowning, giving me an odd look with her penetrating twilight-blue eyes.

“You shouldn't run on your own, it's not safe,” I chastise.

Both eyebrows pop up. “I'm not a kid.”

“No, but it's still not safe.”

“Whatever. See ya.” Yanking her elbow out of my grasp she resumes her run.

I watch her all the way to when she disappears out the entryway onto the beach. She pauses once, pretending to fiddle with her laces, using the opportunity to check me out.

You are so busted chicky.

Laughing to myself, I turn and swagger the long distance to where Jo sits watching the crowd of guys catching swells, literally surfing with the three seals.

She's cute. I have a thing for girls with night blue eyes and dark hair. Hers could be longer, but she has a hot ass that makes up for the mid-shoulder hair.

Kevin takes a sedate jog back to us, “Hey, one of our china's is having a party tonight. Why don't you guys pull in?”

I exchange a clueless glance with Jo. “One of your China's? Um, sorry we don't catch that.”

“Oh yaah, right,” he laughs, like he's toasted. “We call friends like that. They're your china. Brett's cool though, he won't mind you guys pulling in. He won't see it like crashing or anything doff. He's chill.” He gives us a sly nod as if he finds it amusing, “Make out, hey?”

Shaking my head, I feel like a moron. “Sorry Kevin, it sounds like you're inviting us to pull into and make out with chicks?”

He guffaws his half baked chuckle, “No bru. It's like this right. Brett's is just up the road here, not far. Make out? Oh yaah, right...” laugh... “Make out is like
understand
. He's a legend dude, and like, I thought you guys might like to party Cape style. Check?”

I look to Jo who is wearing the 'please can we' expression, so I nod to Kevin. “Sure, thanks for the invitation. That sounds awesome.”

“Cool. Are you guys gonna be here for a while cos those waves don't wait. I'll give you the directions when we come back in and introduce you to the guys.”

“Yeah, sure,” I nod.

“Sharp,” he smiles, shaking his windswept hair and jogging half assed back up the beach, splashing into the water with his board under his arm.

I'm getting the impression surfers are free spirits no matter where you bump into them. That guy is so laid back, even in the lazy drawl he employs to speak, that you can't imagine him putting effort into anything unless it involves a true passion.