The Demon Hunters (7 page)

“
Upper
Burma is now officially part of the British Raj a Province of
British India and our Expedition proceeded smoothly. At first I
found this to be an exciting Journey. More so after the long and
tedious Days aboard Ship. I felt like a Princess as I rode high
above those on foot on the swaying back of an Elephant inside my
canopied tasseled Howdah.”

Elizabeth wrote beautifully, although
she didn’t believe in punctuation except for periods at the end of
sentences, and her choice of which words to capitalize didn’t make
sense.

“
The Wildlife is exotic.
Birds the colours of Rainbows with waterfall plumes and harsh eerie
cries. Cheeky Apes with old Men’s beards. Bald Marsupials with
prehensile tails. So many Creatures the identity of such is a
mystery to me. We sit around the Camp fire in the night and I
listen to the haunting music of the Jungle.”

I walked upstairs with the journal in
my hand, Jack and Mel trailing me. I did a quick Google. The
distance from Yangon to Taunggyi is 456 miles. How long would it
take on an ambling elephant?

“
The trail forged by Jimmy
two years ago has been reclaimed by rapacious Jungle Growths and
the Boys have to hack their way through much of it. The Heat is
oppressive and Dust clings to the slimy Concoction we must spread
over our exposed Skin to ward of Insects. Wild Animals walk abreast
of us but some distance away. I think they are curious. In the
night they snarl threateningly. Although I never see them I know
that Tigers and Leopards are native to this area. Several times
Daddy thought we were stalked not by Animals but by Men who could
be as dangerous. I was glad to break free of the Jungle and see
Nagka before us.

“
Nagka is built of
Sandstone. The outer Wall is smoothed by time. It is a mixture of
ornamental delicacy and massive sculpture. Buildings spread out
from the Walls and stand alone within them and all are topped by
Towers both grotesque and beautiful. Most have high arched Windows
either open to the oppressive Air or made secret by lacework stone
Panels. These Structures were Palaces and Temples. The mud and reed
Huts of Peasants and Slaves crumbled to dust centuries past. Nagkas
floor is of small hand moulded Bricks now crumbling and faded. I
try to imagine how many Bricks were required and how long to make
them but my mind can not encompass such a feat. The Temples are
paved with large stone tiles.

“
Raised covered Galleries
with their Roofs supported by carved Columns girdle and connect
many of the Buildings so that the ruling class need not walk in the
unrelenting Sun. Covered Bridges cross a raised water Cistern open
to the sky. The water once bubbled up from some natural source deep
beneath the Ground. Now murky with silt and gutted with weed and
decaying leaves it stretches out along the north Wall. In the very
centre of Nagka stands the massive Pyramid Temple with its five
terraces topped by five Towers.“Architecture is bizarre and
fantastic and almost tortured yet splendid. Carvings are in bas or
high relief and Statuary nestles in niches. There are lacey grills
and swooping eaves. Almost every surface is elaborately ornamented.
All are of Stone. The Tower roofs rise like terraces. Some of the
Columns are smooth but not many. Almost everything in Nagka is
highly decorated even to the paving stones inside the
Buildings.

“
Creeper and vine cling to
Nagkas many faces and tendrils search the City floor. Huge Banyan
and Silk Cotton trees rise in once open spaces and insert their
fingers into Nagkas sandstone body. The writhing roots of Fig trees
strangle massive Statues of the Gods. But inside Nagka waits a cool
sanctuary from the oppressive heat.”

I reluctantly closed the book,
eliciting complaining noises from Jack and Mel. I didn’t know when
Gia Sabato would turn up and I wanted to be ready.

Chapter Six

I sat at the kitchen table trying to
watch TV, but I couldn’t concentrate. My long-sleeved cambric shirt
covered my angle-draw shoulder holster and Ruger SR9. I wasn’t
taking any chances.

My mind on other things, mainly
Royal’s behavior, I idly flipped the pages of Elizabeth’s diary. An
interesting little book, but who sent it to the agency, and why? I
couldn’t come up with any possible explanation.

Was it authentic? The cover and paper
looked old, with lettering in thick and faded ink. I’m no expert,
but it didn’t look like modern ink. The journal had been written in
ornate handwriting, with great care. It was for the most part
legible, although some of the letters were strange. The S looked
almost like an F, but only when used within a word. If the S came
at the end of a word it was a plain old S. I could imagine
Elizabeth writing slowly and carefully so she didn’t have to cross
out words and waste paper, but there were a number of crossings-out
and blotches.

The minutes ticked by and
Gia didn’t come. That’s the problem when a person says
evening
. It could mean
any time between four and ten. I pushed the journal away, got to my
feet and went restlessly to the kitchen window to look out. Jack
and Mel watched the Billy French video, but despite their
complaints I had set the volume on low.

Still no sign of her. I wanted her to
arrive, talk, leave and get it over with so I could quit thinking
of her. My shoulders were in knots at the thought of being alone
with her in my house.

I sighed, went back to the table and
opened the journal again. Jack and Mel were behind me in a
flash.

I skipped over a detailed description
of the expedition setting up camp, the meals they ate, Elizabeth’s
tedium as the men explored the city and she remained confined to
camp.

A dangerous place; some of the
buildings hid nasty traps, as in the Indiana Jones movies. The men
slowly and carefully explored each small area, every room.
Hazardous areas were marked and some traps sprung. Elizabeth was
allowed to roam those areas of the city deemed safe three days
after their arrival.

“
As high as the Towers are
their peaks do not rise above the mighty Wall. This morning I went
carefully up the crumbling Steps passing first the Tower roofs and
successive floors to the top of the wide stone Wall. Daddy would be
most upset if he saw me up there. I looked down at Nagkas sun baked
brick floor and our dirty white tents and sodden lines of laundry
which are very much out of place here. When I returned to the
ground I entered the Palace through its massive column flanked
doorway. Blessed cool enfolded me and eased my eyes. I followed the
Passage until daylight faded behind me and I passed the first
Lantern and entered a world bathed in mellow amber
light.

“
The first room is a Small
Antechamber and is dominated by a centrally placed raised dais
supported by six squatting tusked Panthers. They look like old
gnarled friendly beasts. There is a covered stone Basin set into
the dais. The Basin is carved in such a way to make one think some
artisan has laid a lacework mantle upon the open top of a plain
stone receptacle so cunningly is it wrought. Wide steps lead from
the floor up to a Gallery which surrounds the room on three sides
making it appear sunken and more tusked Panthers stand guard along
the Gallery. Nagka truly is magnificent both inside and
out.

I had not so far been
unnerved by the eerie ancient dusty silence of Nagkas interior but
as I stood alone in the Antechamber I had the feeling of being
watched. There between two big stone Cats stood a Man. He stood as
still and silent as the Cats as they sat looking down at me. His
expression was singularly serene like those on the faces of many of
Nagkas stone Gods.

“
He had black hair very
straight and long. He was darker than us but not dark like the
Natives and he did not look quite like them. His face was quite
pretty for a Man. I am ashamed to say that as I recall the
Strangers appearance in my minds eye I think critically of Daddys
sallow angular face and beak of a nose and balding pate. The Mans
face had broad cheekbones and a high brow and large almond shaped
eyes. His body was also quite magnificent. Indeed my face reddens
at the memory.

“
He wore a Sarong of white
with a heavy golden fringe. A great necklace covered his chest. It
looked like Gold. Arm rings and pearl bracelets and I think he wore
finger rings. And he wore a Gold circlet around his
forehead.”

***

Mac sat facing the pantry door. I got
his little bowl, took it in the pantry and measured out a half cup
of kibble, then put it on the floor near the back door for him. The
doorbell rang, startling me. I used the remote control to turn the
TV off, slid the journal in the shelf under the table where I keep
telephone directories, and gave Jack and Mel a stern look. “I need
my wits about me, guys, so don’t distract me.”

“
Oh ye of little faith. . .
.” Jack intoned.

I didn’t check my gun or my appearance
as I went in the hall and to the front door. I know what I look
like and my gun was a reassuring weight beneath my shirt. I also
knew where my heart was: lodged in my throat like a lump of day-old
bread.

I paused in the hall,
wondering at my reaction to the woman. Sure, having my mind messed
with frightened me, but she freaked me out before that, from the
moment she faced me in Royal’s living room. And why the hell did I
take a case when the clients scared the life out of me?
My gut said we should get as far from Gia Sabato
and Daven Clare as possible. We shouldn’t have taken this case. We
did not even discuss a fee, unless this was something else Royal
took upon himself.

But if Rio Borrego was in trouble, if
he’d just disappeared as they claimed, he needed help. I’d never
turned away from anyone who needed my help.

I should suppress my qualms and
concentrate on Rio Borrego. I pulled in a breath, let it out, and
opened the door.

Gia Sabato stood on the porch in
profile as she looked off north. She had changed into
straight-legged peach pants, a long-sleeved ecru sweater and peach
stiletto shoes. She knew how to coordinate and her huge amber
earrings, pendant and half a dozen bracelets were frosting on the
cake. Although the sun had almost set, she wore gigantic
sunglasses.

I opened the door and swept my hand in
a welcoming gesture. “Please come in.”

She took off the sunglasses and tucked
them in a pocket as she stepped in. “Thank you.”

I led the way to the kitchen. Mac had
shoved his bowl to the middle of the room in his efforts to get
every last morsel. He looked up at us and made a sound I had never
heard from him before, kind of a cross between a snarl and a
whimper. Then he backed away until his rear bumped the back door.
This was a first.

All hell broke loose.

Mel shrieked a cry of rage and zipped
across the kitchen straight at Gia. She stopped inches from the
woman and yelled in her face. “What the hell are you doing in
here?”

Jack joined Mel, staring at Gia, who
looked through them obliviously.

“
Get out!” Jack snarled
“This is our home. You don’t belong here.”

Alarmed, I almost spoke to them, but
stopped myself just in time.

“
Don’t you stand there and
ignore me!” Mel yelled. She jabbed a finger at Gia and waved it
under her nose. “Just who do you think you are, barging in here
like you own the place?”

My friends were out of their little
spectral minds and I had no idea why.

I asked Gia to take a seat at the
kitchen table, and as she went past, made frantic signs at Mel and
Jack to get their attention. As Gia moved, Jack swung in behind
her, yelling something incomprehensible, and MeI tried to block
her. I winced as she walked right through Mel.

Mel froze. She and Jack exchanged
looks, looked at me, and simultaneously raced from the
room.

At times like this, when
pretending they don’t exist is
really
hard, I so wish I could tell
others about my roommates. Now I’d have to wait until Gia left to
discover what just happened. But although their behavior was
bizarre, seeing them in a rage kind of perked my spirits, maybe
because they did to Gia what I didn’t have the nerve to
do.

She sat at the table and I sat
opposite her. ”Where do you want to begin?” she asked without
preamble.

Out the corner of my eye, I saw Mac
creep around the edge of room until he stood beneath the windows.
His ears lay flat on his skull. He met my eyes, then made a dash
for the hallway. This was not the dog I knew.

I moved the pad of lined foolscap I
put there earlier to the edge of the table and picked up the pen. I
had to concentrate, push everything else to the back of my mind.
Whatever I felt about her, Gia was a client and I must treat her as
such. “How about the name of the motel in Tremonton?”

Gia took off her thin cream gloves and
laid them on the table. “Do you mind closing your
blinds?”

I obliged her and returned to my
chair. She must be worried someone would spot her, but what fun if
the neighbors saw famous Gia Sabato in my kitchen and mobbed her
when she left. I visualized her trying to force a path through a
dozen infatuated fans, and in my mind’s eye they were the oldest
and crotchetiest of my neighbors, enthusiastically waving pens and
pieces of paper in her face. That perked me up a tad
more.