The Star-Fire Prophecy (4 page)

Chapter Four

Danica shrank against the dresser, staring at the scorpion in her bed. It seemed to move sideways, the barbed tail curved over its body. She looked quickly about her for something to smash it with and finally took off her shoe, then realized the bed was too soft a surface. Gingerly she prodded at the scorpion with the shoe held in her hand until the insect dropped onto the floor, then she stepped on it with her still-shod foot, grinding the scorpion into the pile of the carpet.

She took a deep breath before she lifted her foot and examined the dead scorpion. Using tissues, she cleaned the rug, flushing the remains down the toilet. Then she flung the bed covers back and examined every inch of the bed. There were no other insects, poisonous or not. Her eyes traveled around the room, up the walls, across the ceiling. What was it her roommate had once said about scorpions?

Angie was from Texas, which, according to her, was the home of more poisonous insects and animals than any other state in the union. “Always look for black widow spiders when you find a scorpion,” she’d said to Danica. “They prey on each other and where you find one…”

Or, “Scorpions crawl along the ceiling, then all of a sudden, plop, into your bed…”

Danica shook her head. She wouldn’t remember any more of Angie’s Texas lore. There were no more insects in this room and she was going to get into bed and go to sleep without worrying.

But once in bed, she lay on her back, rigid, waiting to feel something land on her face, the sting of the barbed tail. With an effort, she gathered awareness into her brain, as the instructor at the university had taught her. Then she thought of her star of light energy and imagined that energy coursing through her, washing away anxiety and tension, making her relax.

She awoke to daylight. Sitting up in bed, she listened for the sound of activity outside her room, but heard nothing. She got up and showered, then dressed in gold pants and a yellow sweater. As she was brushing her hair, a tap came at the door.

“Come in.”

The girl who entered was about her age, with short brown hair and blue eyes. She smiled nervously. “I’m Lydia Jenkins,” she said. “This is my house and we’re about to have breakfast if you’d like to join us.”

“Thank you,” Danica said. “I’m…”

“Oh, I know who you are, Galt told me. I hope you like oatmeal because this is the morning I fix oatmeal.”

She acts uneasy
, Danica thought.
Defensive. Certainly she can’t be afraid of me
.

“Oatmeal’s fine,” Danica said. “I’ll be right out.”

In the modern kitchen two children sat around a Formica-topped table while the third sat underneath.

“Maxwell, you come out of there,” Lydia said. “If you don’t want to eat with us you don’t have to, but you’ll miss meeting someone new. She’s a surprise for this morning.”

After a moment a blond head poked out from under the table and pale blue eyes peered cautiously at Danica.

“Hello, Maxwell,” she said. “I guess I’d better be careful or I might sit in your place. I wonder which chair is yours? If you were sitting there then I’d know which chair it was.”

The blond boy inched out farther.

“I wonder where Maxwell’s chair is?” Danica went on. “Is it this one?”

In a rush, the boy got to his feet and threw himself onto one of the chairs, then stared triumphantly at Danica.

She smiled at him, then at Lydia and the other two children. Lydia’s lips twitched into a partial smile.

Doesn’t she like me
? Danica wondered.
What’s the matter with her
?

“Do each of the houses have three children and an adult?” she asked.

“It varies. Galt doesn’t have any permanent children, but any of them can be guests there if they want.”

“Like Amy?”

“Oh, Amy…” Lydia’s words trailed off. “You’ve met her already? She’s, well, she’s different.” She looked around the table. “You know Maxwell. And this is Rosa and Dennis.” Lydia nodded toward the children.

“This is Danica,” she said to them.

Danica greeted them one at a time, by name. Only Rosa answered. Rosa, she could see, had Down syndrome.

“Stay?” Maxwell asked.

“Stay?” Lydia repeated. She glanced at Danica. “Well, I don’t know. We’ll see.”

Danica talked to the children as she ate her breakfast, eliciting a smile now and then and an occasional word. They were between eight and twelve years of age, she decided. With mentally disabled children, age was often difficult to judge.

Breakfast over, the children began cleaning up the kitchen according to their ability to do so, but when Danica started to help, Lydia stopped her.

“I think you should go see Melantha,” she said.

“Why? Oh, you mean for the horoscope?”

Lydia nodded. “She’s in the house on the other side of Evan’s, next to Galt’s, two houses away from this one.”

Danica felt she had no option but to do as Lydia suggested. She was disappointed that Evan hadn’t come by. Of course she wouldn’t expect Galt Anders to take any further interest in her unless she qualified as an employee, but Evan might have.

She suddenly remembered moving to a different neighborhood in Santa Barbara when she was nine years old. This was how it had been, the children on the new street eyeing her, waiting to see if she would turn out to be the right material for a friend. She was on trial here, too, not accepted at all until she proved to be compatible. But—a horoscope? What could that tell them about her?

Outside, she stood looking at Star-Fire. The round house snuggled into hills that curved in a semicircle around the A-frame Chanting Room below. She counted twelve houses, seemingly identical in construction, not perfect circles, because the back of each house fitted into the hillside and the roof lines came to a shallow peak, the chimneys reminding her of the stems on jack-o’-lanterns.

Danica began walking toward Melantha Cross’s house. There were no trees along the hills, but some bushes had been planted around each house, and some native shrubs grew along the path that had been cut into the hillside leading to each of the houses, up around the back, then on to the next. As she skirted Evan’s house, a large cat with charcoal fur darted onto the path ahead, stopped, and turned to stare at her with yellow eyes. It yowled once, a high-pitched, unpleasant sound, then marched ahead of her as she came to Melantha’s.

Then the cat sat in front of the door, waiting for her. When she came near, it yowled again and the door opened.

“Have you brought me someone, Dido?” Melantha’s husky voice was caressing as she addressed the cat. She looked at Danica.

“What are you?” she asked abruptly.

“Why—I—I’m a nurse. I…”

Melantha waved her hand back and forth. “Not that. What sign? When were you born? I can usually tell, but you’re blurred.”

“Oh. I’m a Sagittarius. I was born November twenty-sixth.”

Melantha frowned. Danica watched the perfect face and thought again how beautiful she was. Thirty? Thirty-five? Impossible to tell.

Melantha stepped aside. “Please come in,” she said. She led the way down a short hall to a closed door which she unlocked. “The children are so curious,” she murmured.

Inside was a room with no windows. Painted a deep blue, it seemed to close around Danica as she entered, and yet also gave an impression of being a larger room than it was. There was no furniture except for two chairs and a wide oak table, the top of which was covered with charts. Maps of the earth and of the heavens hung on the walls. There were two doors besides the one in the hall, but one was painted black.

Melantha indicated a chair. After closing the door, she sat in the other chair. “You’re sure of your birthdate?” she demanded.

“Yes. It’s on my birth certificate.”

The dark woman shook her head. “A Sagittarius,” she said. “I can’t understand…”

“Well, I was an eight-month baby,” Danica offered. “A month premature, according to my mother.”

“Yes, of course, that explains it,” Melantha murmured. “You were meant to be a Capricorn. There was interference, I can feel the interference.” She brought her head up and looked into Danica’s eyes. Melantha’s irises were golden like her cat’s, but they didn’t resemble a cat’s eyes. Once again Danica thought of the brutal, bright gaze of a hawk, an eagle.

“Do you know the exact hour of your birth, so I can erect a horoscope for you?”

“Midnight.”

“Exactly?” Melantha frowned again.

“Yes. That’s why I remember.”

“Where were you born?”

“In Arizona, south of Phoenix.”

“I need an exact location.”

“On the Tohono O’odham Indian Reservation,” Danica said. “At Gu Vo. It’s practically in Mexico.”

“You’re Indian?”

“No.”

Melantha’s gaze sharpened, but she said nothing more. She looked down to busy herself with the charts in front of her. Occasionally she glanced up at the star maps on the wall. At last she looked at Danica.

“That’s all,” she said.

“You don’t need any more information?”

“I’m a Scorpio, you know,” Melantha said obliquely.

Danica could think of no reply.

“I see you don’t understand. Scorpios are often able to perceive more than the other signs.” Melantha inclined her head toward the black door. “My meditation room,” she said. “Once inside I’m insulated from all stimuli. I learn much from meditation.”

Danica smiled politely, then rose from her chair. She felt at a loss to know what to do next, but she didn’t want to ask Melantha. The older woman seemed to operate on a different frequency from Danica’s and Danica didn’t understand her.
Dislike
was perhaps too harsh a word, although she’d felt last night that Melantha didn’t like her.

A Scorpio
, she thought. The Scorpion was the symbol of the sign as the Archer was for Sagittarius. The thought of the insect in her bed came into her mind.

Melantha smiled, a knowing, unpleasant smile as though she saw what Danica was thinking.

“When will you be finished?” Danica said.

“My report goes directly to Galt,” Melantha told her. “He’ll let you know sometime today.” She looked down at the charts again and Danica let herself out of the room, then out of Melantha’s house.

She retraced her steps back toward Lydia’s house. She was passing behind Evan’s when the sensation of being watched crept over her. Hidden eyes following her. Why? Danica glanced all about but saw no one.

Then there was a stirring of leaves in the bushes uphill from her and a child’s face appeared.

“Amy,” she called. “Good morning, I’m happy to see you again.” She waited in the path and the little girl finally slid down toward her.

“I didn’t tell you my name last night—it’s Danica.”

Amy stood beside her on the path, staring upward. Her grey eyes were astonishingly light in the olive face framed with black hair. She reached a hand up toward Danica.

Danica realized the girl wanted to touch her red hair again, and so she crouched down next to Amy and smiled when she felt the small hand stroke her head.

“Have you ever seen red hair before, Amy? It’s just hair like yours, only a different color. My eyes are green and yours are grey. Different colors again. There are lots of different colors. The sky is a blue color today.”

Danica no longer felt Amy’s hand and she saw the girl was gazing up at the sky. Danica reached out her hand, then felt rather than saw Amy shrink away. She immediately drew back her hand. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to,” she said. But she knew the tenuous rapport between them had been broken. A moment later Amy darted off up the hill and disappeared.

As Danica stood up she heard her name and looking around saw Galt Anders in the open doorway of his house. “Come in and have coffee with me,” he said.

With a lift of spirits, she agreed. Someone was making a friendly gesture. Two people, if she counted Amy.

Galt’s kitchen was a near duplicate of Lydia’s.

“Are all the houses identical?” she asked.

“Practically, though we’ve made various modifications. The original builders were advocates of communal living. They started out with quite a bit of money and the highest ideals.”

“What happened?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. I do know I bought the property for a good deal less than it’s worth. No one lived here by then. I heard rumors of a feud that left two people dead and others arrested. I was happy to acquire the property, but I dislike having benefited from another’s failure.”

“How many children do you have here?” Danica asked.

“Amy made fifty. She’s our last, and without more housing and more staff I’m afraid we’ve reached our limit. I don’t really want more children right now—too many and we dilute what good we may do.”

“She’s an unusual little girl.”

“I saw you together on the path. Do you know you’re the first person I’ve ever known her to touch voluntarily?”

“She—it’s my hair…”

“I know. You have beautiful hair.”

Flustered, Danica glanced at him and saw he was smiling at her. Her red hair had always made her stand out and many times had been a burden rather than a pleasure. Galt moved his hand toward her and her breath caught as she wondered if he meant to touch her hair as Amy had. The idea of this man touching her was unsettling.

Then the door banged open and Galt stood up as Melantha swept into the kitchen.

“You can’t have that red-haired girl here,” Melantha said, speaking directly to Galt, ignoring Danica. “She’s a Sagittarius and that’s a fire sign. I consider the combination a bad omen.”

“Melantha…” Galt began, but she cut him off.

“She’s a destroyer, not a builder,” Melantha said in her husky voice, “and she will bring chaos to Star-Fire.”

Chapter Five

“Melantha,” Galt said, “come and have some coffee. Surely you haven’t had time to erect a complete horoscope for Danica. So why the intense reaction?”

Melantha sat at the table with them. “I have no particular feeling against you as a person,” she said to Danica. “But I don’t think you belong here. Haven’t you felt it yourself?”

“Oh, come now,” Galt said. “She’s barely arrived at Star-Fire.”

Danica looked at Melantha’s dark beauty.
Should I tell her I do have a feeling
? she wondered.
A feeling that neither she nor Evan wants me here. Should I ask why
?

“I have a partial horoscope,” Melantha said. “She has her moon in Libra. You know that makes her wishy-washy, too eager to please. At the same time, with Mercury in Scorpio she’s suspicious and tends to be critical. Those characteristics added together suggest a troublemaker. Plus the typical unstable, hasty Sagittarian nature…”

“I’m not like that!” Danica cried.

Melantha shrugged. “At any rate, that’s not what I based my recommendation on.” She looked at Danica. “When you flare up like you did just now, flames leap around you. I don’t know why and I don’t like it. The suggestion of fire is there all the time. Even if you are a fire sign, I shouldn’t be able to sense the flames so strongly.”

Danica shrank back into her chair and dropped her eyes.
No
, she thought,
not here, too
.

“Galt, look at her… She knows something…”

“Bring me the completed horoscope, Melantha. I’ll go over it. But you haven’t shown me enough reason not to add Danica to the staff. As I certainly shouldn’t have to remind you, Sagittarians are also cheerful, hard workers. And don’t I remember the moon in Libra as indicating a fondness for children? The other business about the fire is too nebulous.”

“Even her hair…” Melantha began.

“Amy likes her hair; she’s already reached out to Danica. That’s reason enough right there to keep her with us.”

“You’re overriding me?”

“I think of it as a disagreement in interpretation. Bring me the horoscope when it’s finished and we’ll go over each item together. Meanwhile, I’ll add Danica to the Star-Fire staff.”

Melantha stared at Galt, then rose abruptly and swept out of the kitchen. Danica heard the door open and close. “I wonder why she doesn’t like me?” Danica said.

“You mustn’t feel that way,” Galt said. “Melantha is totally devoted to Star-Fire and sometimes I think she goes overboard—like now, with you—in her desire to have us all fit together.” He frowned. “I’ve wondered if that might be bringing us toward a certain sterility.”

“Thank you for believing in me,” Danica said. “I’m eager to get started. But—but there is something you should know.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet Galt’s eyes. “The place where I last worked—a child died in a fire and I—I believe it was my fault.”

There was a momentary silence. “Didn’t Evan say you worked with disabled children in Los Angeles?” Galt asked at last.

“Yes. I’m an RN and I was in charge of the hospital on the evening shift. Kevin…” She bit her lip. “One of the boys I had been using the light-fire energies with was the child who was burned to death. I should have…”

“What was the name of the hospital?”

She told him and he said, “I don’t accept the fire as your fault, but I’ll call them about you, then we’ll all feel better. Okay?”

She nodded.

“Now,” he said, “Where to put you? I’d like to have you in a unit with Amy but…” He paused.

“I’d enjoy that,” she said.

“Yes, well, Amy is in Melantha’s house at present.”

“Oh.”

“So maybe Lydia’s is the best. You’ve met Lydia?”

“Yes, she made my breakfast this morning. Lydia’s house will be fine.”

“About Amy…” He shook his head. “I won’t make that decision now. But I will arrange a time for you to work with her every day; spontaneous bonds should be encouraged.”

“Do I begin today? I don’t know exactly…”

“Your training in the Star-Fire energy use will start today. You already know Evan, so we’ll use him as instructor. All right?”

He smiled at her, dark eyes glowing, and she thought her mother couldn’t have been more wrong. Galt was obviously a kind person; she couldn’t imagine his being cruel.

“I’d like you to listen to Amy’s interview tape when you get settled in,” Galt said.

“Interview tape?”

“Oh, not with Amy—about her. After the staff meets a new child I have them in one at a time to discuss their reaction to the child. Amy…” He paused and frowned. “Well, we’ll talk about her again when you’ve heard the tape and when you’ve formed your own views.”

“Fine,” she said and rose from her chair.

“One more thing—I have the only telephone at Star-Fire. Something of a nuisance and we’re going to have other lines coming in eventually, but at present that’s it. Feel free to use the phone at any time.”

So it was Galt who had answered the phone last night when she’d called Evan. “Thank you,” she said.

“You might stop by and see Evan; he’s free this morning. Do you know where he lives?”

Danica nodded.

She found Evan in his house two doors away. “Galt sent me over,” Danica told him. “He wants you to be my instructor.”

“So you’re one of us?”

“Well—I’ll try to be.” She smiled at Evan tentatively, half expecting the rejection she’d felt last night, but he smiled back warmly and she realized anew what a good-looking man he was.

“I’m glad. I’ve hoped all along we could work together. You know, Sagittarius and Gemini are opposite signs. I’m a Gemini, your alter ego.”

Gemini. The Twins. Did that mean Evan was two people, one friendly, one distant? Nor did she remember telling him she was a Sagittarius. She gave herself a mental shake. No reason to act like Melantha, finding omens where none existed.

“I don’t know enough about astrology to know if opposite signs are compatible or not,” she said.

“Frequently they are,” he said.

“Why all the emphasis on astrology here?”

“That’s why we’re Star-Fire. Astrology and the light energy working together. The children have their horoscopes worked out, too, so we can determine the optimum times for them to accept the energy.”

She said nothing.

“It works. You’ll see, we’ll make a complete believer of you.” He grinned at her. “No better time to start than now. Let’s see—suppose you tell me all you’ve learned of the light-fire, how many of the energies you’ve mastered. Then you can try some of the techniques on me and maybe I can judge how far along the pathway you’ve gotten.”

“White Energy,” she said, “Cosmic Father, Radiant Warrior, Left Hand of the Physician, Right Hand of the Physician.” As usual when she recited the names, a farcical feeling pervaded her. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen the energy work—she had. She could believe in the energy itself, but the names were something else.

“The healing five,” Evan said. “Very good. You’ll need a few more, but those are enough for a start. Now let’s see if you can use what you’ve learned.”

Danica closed her eyes and gathered awareness. “I’ll use the white,” she said to Evan, “if you’d like to activate your own star.”

She thought of her star rising and expanding to pour down the radiant energy, the energy flowing through her, through her field, into the earth. She thought of her hands bathed in the Ch’i Energy, that of life itself.

Danica opened her eyes and got up, and moved to where Evan sat in his chair. She stood behind him and placed her hands on top of his head, lightly touching. After a few moments she pressed gently, then lifted her hands up and away slowly, slowly, pausing at three inches, then moving away again until her hands were back at her sides.

Then she put her left hand on Evan’s forehead and her right hand at the back of his head, slightly lower.

She blazed up the energy between her hands by thinking it so, and after a moment pressed gently and removed her hands as she had before. This time she thought she felt a drawing sensation as though there was a force acting between her hands and Evan’s head.

“That’s enough,” he said. “I could feel you very distinctly using the energy. You’ve learned your lessons well. Let’s hope I’m as good a teacher as your previous one.”

She smiled, feeling at peace with herself and with Evan. She always felt better after using the energy.

“I remember your talking at the seminar,” Evan said. “You’d gotten an alteration in behavior for the better in a hyperactive boy. Right?”

Danica’s smile faded.

“What’s the matter?”

“That was Kevin. He—he’s dead.” She told Evan about the fire. “So that’s why I came up here, really. To run away, I guess.”

He shook his head. “I don’t see it that way. You knew we needed you; this is the place to develop what you’ve started to do.”

Was this the same Evan who greeted her so reluctantly last night?

“I thought you’d changed your mind about wanting me here,” she said.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t qualify and I can’t stand disappointment. I was pushing you away so I wouldn’t have to face the fact you might not stay—if that makes any sense to you.”

“Not exactly,” she said.

“That’s me. You’ve heard the old saying: ‘You can’t rely on Gemini.’ Well, we do have our faults. But I’m glad you’re here.” He touched her arm. “Very glad.”

She didn’t mind the feel of Evan’s hand, but she moved away. Hasty, Melantha had called her. She’d be no such thing, form no impetuous relationships.

Evan glanced at his watch. “The Chanting Room should be in use by now. I’ll take you down and let you see and feel how we increase and focus energy with the use of chanting.”

“What’s Amy’s diagnosis?” Danica asked him as they climbed down the steps.

“Mental retardation of unknown etiology,” he said. “Like so many of our children. I was a psychiatric social worker at Porterville State Hospital before I came to Star-Fire, and I can vouch for that diagnosis as the most common.” He shrugged. “In other words, your guess is as good as the doctor’s.”

“But she’s so afraid. Most of the children I’ve worked with are affectionate, overly affectionate at times.”

“Amy is a type. I’ve seen the withdrawn ones before.”

“Does it mean a—well, sort of an overlay of mental illness?”

Evan shrugged again. “I don’t know. That’s anyone’s guess, too. And it really doesn’t make much difference, since we treat all the children the same—kindness and attention. Good remedies for anything.”

They were approaching the A-frame. Evan didn’t go toward the closed double front doors, but led her around to the side. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked a door there. “I don’t want them to see us, we might disturb them, coming in after the start. This way leads to the sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?” She glanced at Evan.

“It’s where we keep the eternal fire. Sanctuary is as good a name as any.” He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I can see the wheels going around; you’re thinking we practice some strange, esoteric religion. We don’t. But a ritual is more effective with a little mystery, so we have the eternal fire and light each ritual fire from it with a short ceremony to get everyone on the right frequencies.”

They had come down a short hall and now Evan drew aside a long purple curtain and let her step into a small alcove with him. There was an iron latticework separating them from the rest of the building. She pushed against it tentatively, but the metal grill was bolted into position and didn’t move.

Beyond, she saw a raised platform, altar-like, with a white flame burning steadily inside a transparent covering. More purple draperies decorated the altar.

“The eternal fire is gas fed,” Evan whispered, and grinned at her.

Below the platform was a circle of children and adults. Not as large a group as last night, perhaps fifteen or so. In the center of the circle a child sat on a chair with a staff member behind, hands on the child’s head. Everyone was saying a word over and over; it sounded to Danica like
om
. Some of the children’s voices straggled behind, but as she listened the sound changed to become a giant hum, as though the people making it had somehow merged into one.

Danica felt as though she was a part of the circle, one of the units making the whole. Energy flowed into the seated child from them all. It was a moment or so before she realized Evan was pulling at her hand. Reluctantly she looked around at him. He jerked his head toward the door they had entered by.

She didn’t want to go, but followed him.

“You’re not quite ready for that,” he told her once they were outside.

“But I was a part, I was helping…”

“Not yet. You have to know all of us first, children and staff alike. Energy directed to the known is more effective.”

They started up the long flight of steps to the houses. “Did Galt assign you a house?” Evan asked.

“Lydia’s.”

“Nice and close.”

“Do the houses usually have one or two staff members?”

“It varies. We’ve got one married couple. I’m in a house alone, so is Galt, so is Melantha, and so is Dave—you’ll meet him. Then there’s Fred. The rest are in twos. By sex, like you and Lydia. Galt keeps us pure in the eyes of the authorities. And the parents, too, of course.”

“You know, on the way here I had the feeling Star-Fire would be rustic, sort of primitive, like summer camp; I guess.”

Evan laughed. “There’s a lot of money in this place,” he said. “And we have a waiting list of parents who want their children to come here despite the fantastic fees. Galt’s got a real moneymaker.”

“But what you do works.” In spite of herself, there was a faint question in the words.

“Why, yes. Of course it does. And the children are happy, the parents are happy, we’re all happy.”

Danica examined Evan’s face, but couldn’t see any trace of irony.

“There was a scorpion in my bed last night,” she said. “Are they common here? Do they bother the children?”

She thought for a moment Evan hadn’t heard her, but finally he spoke. “We do have scorpions,” he said, “though not usually in our beds. Ask Lydia for some insecticide.”