Scarlet Heat (Born to Darkness) (50 page)

She moved to the small gift shop
area, swiftly straightening the array of handmade items—the patchwork vests and
jackets, the pillows, potholders, and ornaments, as well as the miniature dolls
attached to key chains. C
rafted of palmetto husk
fiber and adorned in brightly-colored traditional skirt and capes, the doll key
chains were by far the best seller. Every woman who nagged her husband or
boyfriend away from the gaming tables for a second had to have one.

The small space was straightened and ready for the next
day’s patrons—mostly bored gamblers who trickled in from time to time from the
casino next door. It was time for Nina to go. She barely had time to run
through the drive through and get Mehoo-Jimmy her favorite fast food burger
before she had to be at her night job as a therapist at Massage Envy in South
Tampa.

She paused in front of a framed black and white photograph
depicting a Seminole woman from 1910. The picture was part of the Camera-man
exhibit, taken by renowned photographer Julian Dimock. The photographs he’d
taken revealed fascinating details of Seminole Indian life deep in the interior
of the Florida Everglades back at a time when few whites dared to venture so far.

The woman in the picture caught and held Nina’s eye not
because of her historical significance but because of what she wore—strands and
strands of glass beads woven around her neck. Not just a few either—the woman
was wearing literally
hundreds
of strands, so many that they started
just under her chin, covered her entire neck, and dripped down the front of her
breasts. Their weight must have been enormous but the woman stood straight and
strong, staring into the camera with an unyielding look in her dark eyes.

Nina didn’t need a degree in Native American studies to
tell her why the woman wore so many beads. In the past it had been a matter of
pride—of status—for Seminole women. The beads were an outward exhibition of
their wealth and worth, not just received as gifts but bought with the money
they made themselves, selling hand crafted baskets, blankets, dolls and
anything else they could make. Seminole women would wear the beads, only taking
them off at night, even though the immense weight of them eventually led to
severe back and shoulder problems. It was a matter of pride to keep them on and
more than once a female who slipped accidentally into the river was drowned
because of the great weight around her neck.

“So heavy,” Nina murmured, staring at the woman from over a
hundred years ago. “How did you carry that weight day in and day out? How did
you keep standing so straight?”

Her own weight to bear was nothing so tangible as hundreds
of strands of glass beads but Nina still felt it pulling her down. It was the
dreams, of course—they were like an anchor tied around her neck. If she didn’t
stop having them soon, they would drown her as surely as the Seminole women,
too proud to take off their necklaces, had drowned in the swamps of the
Everglades. And like a woman adding strand after strand of beads, the dreams
kept getting worse until she woke up every night in a cold sweat, feeling like
she might be sick.

“It’s going to be all right,” Nina told herself bravely.
She lifted her chin. “Everybody has weird dreams once in awhile.” Except these
dreams had been happening for months. At first they were no big deal but
lately…

Stop thinking about it! You’re only making it worse. And
anyway, it’s time to go.

Nina glanced down at her watch and gave a low curse. It was
past time to be getting out of here.

Flipping off the light switch, she locked up the small
museum and ran for her car, parked at the far end of the employee lot. The hot
Florida sun beat down on her but Nina was used to it. She slid into her little
hatchback, barely noticing that the interior was like an oven. The heat she
could handle—it was the few cold days a year that got to her. Luckily, living
in Tampa, those days were few and far between so she was generally pretty
comfortable.

She went through the drive through and got a double
cheeseburger for Mehoo-Jimmy and a chocolate shake for herself from the dollar
menu. It was a small splurge since she was trying to save every penny to go
back to school but after the particularly bad dream she’d had the night before,
Nina decided she deserved it.

I just need to let the dreams go,
she told herself as she sipped the shake
and drove toward Mehoo-Jimmy’s little bungalow.
Need to forget about them
and just breathe.

Pulling up in front of the little green house, she saw that
Mehoo-Jimmy was sitting out on the front porch, petting one of her many cats
and probably humming to herself. Sure enough, when she got out of the car, Nina
could hear the soft, wordless crooning that was surprisingly tuneful drifting
through the air. It was this soft sound that had comforted her after the death
of her mother, when Mehoo-Jimmy held her and whispered that all was not lost,
that she would see her again some day on the other side.

Nina had only been twelve when her mother had died of
breast cancer and Mehoo-Jimmy had taken her under her wing and protected her
when Nina’s father was out trying to drown his grief in whiskey and gambling.
In some ways, he had never gotten over her mother’s death—or at least that was
the excuse he always gave when he came home drunk or lost his paycheck at the
craps table.

But Nina didn’t want to think about her father now. She ran
lightly up the path to the tiny pea green bungalow, the white paper sack with
the cheeseburger crinkling cheerfully.

“Mehoo, how are you?” She took the porch steps in two
bounds and bent to kiss the soft cheek, wrinkled with age. As always
Mehoo-Jimmy smelled of baby powder and the herbs she grew in her garden out
back.

“Hello, eecho.” The affectionate name meant “little deer”
in Miccosukee, one of the Seminole dialects. The old woman gave her a wide
smile, revealing teeth too white and even to be anything but false. “What you
doing here? Don’t you have to be at that Greedy Massage place?”

“It’s Massage
Envy
and I have a few minutes. Thought
I’d bring you lunch.” Nina handed her the bag and pulled up a wicker chair to
sit beside her. “So how are things?”

“Not bad, not bad. Except…” The old woman frowned at her.
“I got a worried feeling about you, eecho. Early this morning when I first
woke. Are you all right?’

“I’m fine, Mehoo.” Nina shifted uncomfortably under her
adopted grandmother’s ancient stare.

“Tell the truth to your mehoo.” The old woman spoke sternly
though her eyes were gentle. “I can tell when something is on your mind.”

“I had another dream,” Nina said, looking down at her
hands. “A dream about the man…the man whose face I couldn’t see.”

As she spoke the half-remembered dream came back with a
force that left her feeling uneasy and anxious. Sometimes in the dreams, it
seemed the man needed her help. Other times she felt he was coming for her for
some dark and terrible reason. But in all the dreams he was so
big
and
his face was always shadowed…

“A man who hides his face? Hmm…” Mehoo-Jimmy hummed thoughtfully
as she unwrapped the burger Nina had brought her. “That’s not good child. He
sounds like a bear.”

“He could be, I guess,” Nina admitted, frowning. “He’s
huge—as big as a bear, anyway.”

“When a spirit animal comes to you in a dream, you need to
listen. What does he want, this bear?”

“I don’t know.” Nina raised her hands helplessly. “He never
speaks and I can never see his face—just these strange, glowing eyes like he’s
hiding somehow.”

“Dreaming of a bear means fever coming,” Mehoo-Jimmy
announced. “A fever you can’t put out with water alone.”

About the Author

Evangeline Anderson is a registered
MRI tech who would rather be writing. And yes, she is nerdy enough to have a
bumper sticker that says “I’d rather be writing.” Honk if you see her! She is
thirty-something and lives in Florida with a husband, a son, and two cats. She
had been writing erotic fiction for her own gratification for a number of years
before it occurred to her to try and get paid for it. To her delight, she found
that it was actually possible to get money for having a dirty mind and she has
been writing paranormal and Sci-fi erotica steadily ever since.

You can find her online at her
website www.evangelineanderson.com

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