Terran Times 18 - Emerald Envisage (31 page)

And then he started to sob when it was all over.

Oh, he was the best Johnny yet. I let him recover with my cock still buried deep inside him.

“
Mahini
.”

The tears kept spilling down his face. I wanted to spend the rest of my life making him feel this way.

“I never knew passion like this. I never…I never came like that.”

“Johnny, I’ll make you come like that over and over again.” I held his face in my hands and spoke against his trembling lips as he wrapped his long legs around my waist. The obsidian implant surgery had almost killed me—the pain was so great for weeks after the procedure. With each fresh conquest, the feeling of power, of supreme joy given and received was a source of gratification for me.

Oh, I enjoyed the feeling of being the greatest fuck my Johnny ever had as the small clock on the nightstand showed me we had twenty minutes left.

“You didn’t come.” My petulant lover’s hands stroked my thighs, melded to his on the crisp, new sheets.

“Not yet, my love.” I smiled and saw the lust flare in his eyes as I started working on his tight little hole again, his sweet, smooth cock stiffening in my hand. There was a knock at the door and I frowned. Who would be interrupting me when I’d paid a thousand bucks to enjoy my rent boy?

Removing myself from him was difficult. I saw his watchful eyes take in my whole body as I got out of bed and looked through the peephole.

Oh God, no.

I would have to let them in, I had no choice. With a sigh, I glanced at my new lover. “Johnny, get dressed, darling.”

“But—”

“The party’s over, my love. I’ll be in touch.”

“But I want to stay with you. Off the clock. I—” He could hear the sound of chanting outside the door, saw the sweat on my brow.

“I have to go,” I croaked, despair washing over me. “I’ll go out there…just get dressed and go.” My hands and feet shook as I dressed and hurriedly opened the door. The three tribal elders waiting for me stood in an impassive line. They looked over my shoulder at the young man throwing on his clothes in a haphazard fashion.

“Go!” I pushed him far away from us. One of the elders tried to stop him, but the rent boy had nothing to do with any of this. They only wanted me. I saw Johnny’s feet moving, his long, reedy body trying to keep up with them as he hurtled down the corridor.

Yes, the elders wanted me. They’d come to arrest and try me and I knew already by the looks on their faces that the outcome wasn’t going to be good.

“Come.” The first one took my hand and we disappeared from the hotel room. We were in a forest now and I was alone in the middle of a circle of old men, sitting, talking. A few had drum gourds.

“Sit.” Another voice, a disembodied one demanded, and I sat, fearing I would be dead before I could even hear the charges read against me.

“For crimes against Johnny
Kaimana
, we have judged you guilty.” A very old
kahuna
stood, staring at me. It galled me that my private love matters had become so public. “You sent him a death bundle, you cursed him.”

“I loved him! I was stupid! I have paid dearly for what I did!”

A tremendous heat filled the circle and I could have cried. He was here, the only one who could save me. I saw him appear as if by flames. His power was very great now. I smiled as the great
kahuna
, the great high priest, Kimo Wilder, nodded to me, taking his place in the circle surrounding me.

He was a handsome man. Massive, around six four or six five, a proud member of the
Hawaiian
race. A descendant of the last King of
Maui
, he was a majestic man I respected and admired, even when we didn’t agree with each other.

But he’d gotten my message that I was in trouble and he was here.

“I am here in defense of
Mahini
.” Kimo’s authoritative tone soothed me, but I knew from the murmur of dissent he was the only one who wanted me spared.

“Why?” the first
kahuna
shouted
.
“His own sister tried to murder your husband!”

Kimo Wilder stared at him. “I am certain
Mahini
had nothing to do with that and his sister paid for her crimes against me with her
life
.”

There was a pause and then the whispering started again.

“You’re too late.” A smug voice I recognized as one of the real old farts, one of the men who had vehemently opposed Kimo Wilder remaining an elder himself.

“Why,
Nanalo
, he hasn’t been pronounced dead yet.” Kimo’s silky voice sounded like a big cat’s purr. “And I just know I haven’t missed anything. I am The Keeper of Secrets, after all.”

That drew a few smiles that fell as he stalked toward us now, his movements leonine. Oh, he was good, his magic stronger than ever since declaring his love for another man and wanting to live openly and honestly with him in the sacred bonds of marriage.

The
kahuna
had tried to disown him as one of their own. They thought up every test imaginable and he’d passed them all. I knew this because I was there.

“When I needed a friend,
Mahini
was there for me.” Kimo stated what they all knew to be true. In the distance, I saw his husband,
Lopaka
, hovering on the edge of the circle. He had a small child with him.
Smart move,
I thought. This was the couple’s son, also named Kimo, and people said that at the age of two, this child’s powers were already tremendous.

People said he was able to bring dead animals back to life. They said he would one day be the strongest and most powerful
kahuna
the
Hawaiian
Islands had ever seen.

The
kahuna
wanted this boy. And he was here in my defense.

“As his chosen protector, the protector
Mahini
prayed for and, as The Keeper of Secrets, I believe I have the option of offering him life over death.” Kimo stared at me.

“No! He performed ancient magic. He brought grief…terror…a terrible curse on a man whose life was almost destroyed,” said one of the
kahuna
.

Kimo held up his hand. “What he did was bad. He did wrong, but what he did was out of a foolish belief that he needed to exercise control in order to win the love that he desired.”

His magic had to be extraordinary to keep him here this long. I knew it was causing the real Kimo undue stress and great human pain to keep his Spirit here in the circle. I also knew with a flick of any physical wrist present, I could be stone cold dead.

“
Mahini
.” Kimo’s voice was wavering. “I don’t have any more time left. Tell me now. I can give you life. A second chance. Some place else, far away. You will never see any of us again. You may never come back to
Hawaii
. But tell me now and it is written. And I will never tell a soul where you are banished because I am The Keeper of Secrets.”

I looked at his face, the other, vengeful faces, saw a couple of hands move.

“Do it,” I screamed and then the world went flat.

Just like that, I was gone.

Banished.

He had a sense of humor, Kimo. I found myself waking up in the middle of a dense field of green, but I knew I was far away from home. For a moment, I adjusted to the dizzy sensation, looking out over an ocean of impossible blue. I knew I was on an island. But I knew I wasn’t in
Hawaii
anymore. Though wan sunshine polished the lush green foliage, everything sagged under the weight of what had obviously been a very heavy downfall. My running shoes, which had been fine for a hotel tryst, were already feeling soggy in what I realized was mountain terrain. I could see no houses, no streets. No traffic lights. No people.

I felt immense bitterness at the knowledge that the lovely warm islands I’d come to take for granted were no longer mine. In the distance, I could see land, far, far away and an immense black cloud coming toward me. More inclement weather. I felt depressed to be in this cold place, the familiar scent of tropical flowers gone. I should have taken a really good, long sniff before I left. Ah well, at least I got laid. I sat up, feeling like I’d been hit by a bus and looked around me. Yeah, it was green all right. But it was the scent I missed…Mark Twain said it best, and of my
Hawaii
, it is still true.

In my nostrils still lives the breath of flowers that perished twenty years ago.

For another moment, I thought about the island on which I’d been born and which was still my home…well up until this moment it had been my home.
Ni’ihau
, known as The Forbidden Island since nobody but the two hundred and fifty pure blood
Hawaiian
residents were allowed to set foot on it. Over the years, I’d enjoyed brief forays away from there to the island of
Kauai
,
where I had my little sexual trysts, and loaded up on toiletries and groceries that were impossible to find on
my
island. These sojourns had sustained me through long, difficult years of isolation. I wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad that I would never see
Ni’ihau
again.

What I would miss were family members. My Uncle Chooey, who on rare outings to
Honolulu
on the island of
Oahu
, took me and my sister, Mim, to those oh, so scary
obake-neko,
Japanese horror movies at the Roosevelt Theatre. My heart pained at the memory of sauntering down to that old theater on
Maunakea
Street between
Pauahi
and
Beretania.
Mim and I had loved Uncle Chooey. I remember how we enjoyed the movie and always, as we were walking home, we’d stop at one of the
saimin
stands by the theater and inhale twenty-five cent bowls of
saimin
noodles and ten-cent barbecue chicken sticks.

I bit my lip. My sister was dead, the theater and the
saimin
stands were long gone and Uncle Chooey…Uncle Chooey got eaten by a shark as he walked through the surf not far from his house in
Oahu
a few years ago
.
Just remembering him brought pleasure and pain. I think we were really happy then. Was that really the last time I knew such joy? I wondered what he would think of my circumstances now and I got up, brushed off my pants and decided I better check out my new home. As I looked around me, I saw I was on a large island, much more lush that
Ni’ihau
, and for that I was thankful.

Breathing deeply, I detected pines. That was not a familiar smell to me except high up in some parts of the Big Island of
Hawaii
. I stopped. Another smell. Good God, sulphur. I could hear the hiss of gasses, my head turning in the direction of wisps of smoke. Climbing up hill faster now, I encountered a fumerole, a heat vent and beyond it, the unmistakable sight of yellow sulphur powder. An active volcano.

“Hello.”

I jumped, wondering if I was in possession of any of my
kahuna
powers anymore. A
banished
high priest was usually stripped of his magical talents, which meant I could not use any extra sensory benefits to repel the woman standing behind me if I needed to protect myself.

“Are you the new ranger?”

I turned to look at her. She had a heavy European accent. I scanned her outfit. Thick winter clothing, waterproof boots, sealskin hat and coat. As she kept talking, I realized she was Russian.

“My husband is taking photos, but I wanted to introduce myself. My name is
Katarina,
my husband,
Wladimir
,
is enchanted with the boiling lake.” She laughed. “I’ve had a great time, but I’m happy to be leaving tonight. This monsoon weather is too crazy for my blood. Hurricanes yesterday, that heavy mist all morning…I can get bad weather back home in
Kiev
.” She shook open a piece of paper. “Now, what do you know of this hotel?” She thrust the page under my nose.

I read it quickly, dumfounded to see the dubious heading of Santa Resorts, a confirmation for the Hotel
Sakhalin Sapporo
and below this an itinerary for
Kunashir Island
. Where the hell was
Kunashir
? “I know nothing about it.” I shrugged. “Sorry.”

She looked disappointed. “It’s changed hands many times between Russia and Japan, but since my magazine is footing the bill, I picked the place with the best reviews. They say the hotel is very popular with the Russian tourists…oh, there’s
Wladimir
now.
Wladi!
Come and meet the new ranger.”

“But I’m not the ranger,” I jumped in quickly. “I’m a tourist here myself.”

“Oh…”
Katarina
looked surprised. “But I thought with the new hurricanes coming tonight, they weren’t letting anyone else on the island.”

“I’m collecting specimens.” I had no idea where the lie came from, but she looked pleased when I informed her of this.

“Oh, you’re the one! I heard there was a guy collecting spiders here. Amazing how many we’ve found, huh,
Wladimir
?”

He nodded. “Entire plants up the caldera swarming with spider eggs, you’ll be happy to know. We were going to pick some peaches, but they were infested. Where’s your kit?”

I waved my hand in a vague way toward some spot over my left ear.

“Oh, the rangers’ cabin?” the woman asked me. “Those damned bears punched out all the windows last night. I thought at first it was the hurricanes coming back, but they were looking for food. You should be okay up there.” Her dubious expression belied her words.