Read Online Time Dancers by Steve Cash - Free Book Online Page A

only one to do it. Their bodies deserved to be returned to their homeland, to the Pyrenees, and buried with reverence and ceremony. However, I could not leave Carolina, Star, and Caine to whatever the Fleur-du-Mal might have in mind. Someone had to be in St. Louis to protect them, someone who could sense his presence, possibly even kill him; someone who was Meq, strong, reliable, and knowledgeable of the Fleur-du-Mal and his history. I turned and looked at the only answer to my dilemma.
    “Opari,” I said carefully, in a voice only she could hear. “I have a great favor to ask.”
    She knew exactly what I was going to ask because she put her finger to my lips and said, “Take them to Kepa. I will wait for you here and watch for him. Do not take your concerns with you. I will watch carefully, my beloved.”
    I kissed her finger and held it. “I know you wanted to see your home again.”
    “And that day will come, Z. Do not be concerned. Remember what you told me in Africa—we have the time.”
    I smiled and continued to watch the game, but in a distracted state of mind. Jack punched me in the arm more than once, saying, “Hey, Z, did you see that?” I would answer with “Yeah,” or “Sure did,” or something else just as unconvincing. I told Opari I thought I would ask Mitch to accompany me to New York instead of Willie or Owen Bramley. That would leave both of them in St. Louis, in case anything happened. She agreed and told me to try to enjoy the game—relax. I said I would, and I tried; however, I could not stop thinking about what was ahead and the problems that might arise.
    “I wish I had another one of us with me,” I said. “Someone I trust completely.”
    Almost at the same moment, before Opari could respond, I felt something—a presence, a Meq presence. I turned to look behind me and then heard the crack of a baseball being hit hard, and everyone around me leaped to their feet to follow the flight of the ball. I turned back to the field and saw the big, lanky left-hander, trotting around the bases, watching the ball sail out of the park over the fence in right field. Three runners crossed the plate ahead of him. The pitcher had hit a grand slam, the first one of his long career I was to find out later.
    “Did you see that, Z?” Jack cried. “That ball went a mile!”
    “Yeah, I did, Jack. Who is that player? What’s his name?”
    “Babe Ruth,” Jack answered.
    I looked at Opari to see if she had felt anything before the home run. She had, I could see it in her eyes. I started to excuse myself and motioned for Opari to follow me. I wanted to get higher up in the grandstands, where we could better scan the crowd. That’s when I heard the bitter laugh. Not the evil one I was all too familiar with, but another one, one I had not heard in years. It was coming from just behind me, two rows up. I turned again and found him immediately. He was standing on the steps in the aisle. His legs were spread wide and he had his hands on his hips. His eyes were a bright green. He wore baggy black trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked good, and healthy, and the only thing missing was his bowler hat, which was stored safely away in my closet at Carolina’s.
    “How you doin’, Z?” he asked. “You’re lookin’ about the same.”
    “How are you doing, Ray?” I said back. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
    “What do you think about that pitcher for the Sox?”
    “I think he’s a pretty good hitter,” I said.
    “Well, I think you’re right,” he said. “But right now all you’re seein’ is the caterpillar. Wait ’til you see the butterfly.”
     
    3 Txapel (Beret)
    A man on a train once told me the tale of a chieftain who was far from home on a perilous mission for his tribe. He came to a pass in the mountains with which he was unfamiliar. He knew there was no going back and his time was limited. False routes with bandits waiting in ambush lay ahead. Sitting on