Free Winter of the Passion Flower (The de Vargas Family) by Annie Seaton Page A

shower
and quenched their thirst. They dressed quickly and made their way back to the
plantation. Maracuja fruit picked from the vine at the base of the cliff
satisfied their hunger. Crossing the plantation to the edge of the jungle, Zane
sensed Indigo gradually withdraw from him as they prepared for the return
journey. Carefully wrapping the stamens in his shirt, she reminded him of the
need to keep them in the light.
    “They must be opened and exposed to the
sunlight at least once an hour. It is not long until sunset.”
    Sending a quick message to Mr. Grimoult
letting him know of their success and imminent departure, Zane set the alarm
cog on his chronometer to an hour hence. Setting off down the shorter path, he
led the way ignoring the stinging of his skin when the thorny vices slashed his
bare chest and arms. Indigo followed him quietly and did not speak. The trudged
silently through the afternoon heat and descended the path more quickly than
the trip up into the plantation.
    Zane stopped suddenly, pulling Indigo off
the track into the jungle as a loud buzzing intruded on their senses. She
pushed him away with both hands flat on his scratched chest. He glared back at
her, grabbed her shoulders and sat her on the trunk of a fallen tree.
    “Stay there, Madame.” He spoke quietly but
firmly and passed her the shirt containing the stamens. “The hour is almost up.
Make use of the time to give them some light.” Indigo’s mouth dropped open. He
smiled when she obeyed him without argument.
    Zane crept silently along the edge of the
trail; he was satisfied that Indigo was safe on the log. He slowed, and the
hairs on the back of his neck rose as a sweet smell drifted across his to him.
He moved closer to the source of the noise. Carefully making a break in the
foliage at the edge of the path, he peered out through the gap and gagged as
the bile hit his throat.
    A body lay sprawled across the track, the
throat slit from ear to ear. Black congealed blood circled the gaping throat
like a macabre necklace. Luis was almost unrecognizable; the intense heat of
the jungle and the carrion feeding on the body had rendered it to a pulp. Huge
black army ants marched through his eyes, mouth and nostrils. Zane turned back
to the jungle, silently making his way back across the slippery ground. Indigo
sat quietly, the stamens spread around her in the filtered sunlight, as she
stared into the distance. Her beauty contrasted with the ugly scene further
down the path. Zane’s stomach tightened, and protective warmth surging through
him. Pushing herself up from the log, Indigo turned to face him, her arms
folded across her chest.
    “Well?” she demanded but her face was pale.
    Zane walked slowly toward her, and sat on
the log dropping his head to his hands. Indigo reached over, the warmth of her
hand clutching at his bare shoulder, soothed him.
    “Luis?”
    “Yes.” Zane closed his eyes, unable to
block the horrific sight from his mind.
    “Is it safe?”
    “I think so. There is no sign of anyone,
but we must take great care.” Zane pulled her close, burying his face in her
hair.
    Lifting her head, Indigo said, “I think it
may be best if we go back the long way.”
    Zane nodded. “I think that would be best.”
He did not want her to see the putrefied remains of her guide.
    * * * *
    It took them three hours to complete the
return trip. Arriving back at the small bay, hot and tired, they stood in the
deep cover of the thick foliage and Indigo sagged with relief when she saw the
barge was still tied to the pontoon.
    “Thank God,” she breathed.
    The cacophony of the jungle disappeared as
the sun slipped under the horizon. Indigo’s limbs trembled with exhaustion but
Zane insisted on waiting until it was dark before they left the cover of the
jungle. Indigo followed him quietly to the barge. Dropping silently onto the
deck, he moved across to the motor.
    “Damn. The motor has been sabotaged. They
have ensured if Luis had company,