woman contained . . ."
"Call her back," Cain demanded.
Carlos chuckled and spit on the sand. "Fuck you. No."
"You have made her something that will be hunted on this plane! She was my closest friend and did not deserve to have her heart shattered to the point where she will not heed my warnings. I would have brought her experiences and touch through the veil, that she might not languish."
"Does Damali know that?" Carlos asked, studying his nails.
Cain raked his hair and walked back and forth between the water and Carlos. "Her heart is filled with compassion. In time, she would come to understand that--"
"You don't know my baby at all. Damali doesn't share or do sloppy seconds."
"There is nothing sloppy about a creature as exquisite as Zehiradangra!"
"Yeah, well, lemme ask you this," Carlos said, thoroughly enjoying Cain's agitated state. "Would you be able to deal if Damali decided to keep dealing with me, while with you? Because, the way I see it, when you're with Damali, I could hang out with Z... then, hey, when uh, you have to go put in some time with Z, you know, a brother could back off and go home, get up with Damali, chill.... We can work it out, man. We cool--since you already bit her."
Cain made a tent with his fingers in front of his mouth as though summoning calm. "That would not pose a problem for me," he said, forcing smugness into his tone. "If she felt compelled by pity to occasionally resurrect an old, sentimental visit, I would honor that."
Carlos refused to allow Cain to best him on the beach, so he scavenged his mind for anything to make Cain drop fangs and start the rumble. "I appreciate that... maybe she'd come see me, sing to me like old times, and I could accept the loss a little better with her sweet voice making the bullshit medicine go down my throat a little easier. Yeah."
Cain bristled and his eyes had begun to flicker.
"Yeah, I thought so," Carlos muttered, vindicated. Every muscle within him was keened, waiting for the battle to begin, but instead, Cain's attention snapped toward the sea.
"Call her back," he whispered, his tone so gentle that Carlos stepped back to avoid a potentially sudden lunge.
"I told you, no, man. If she's yours, and you got her on lock like you think you do, then--"
"You are so foolish and so young," Cain said, his eyes holding the sea. "Zehira, please, I beg you, come to me!"
Carlos folded his arms and shook his head in triumph. Damn, and he'd been all worried about Damali? For what? Not even twenty-four hours in the damned sun and this bastard was already--
"She does not know the densities of this plane! Her body has not had time to adjust or strengthen to match it!" Cain shouted, panic in his eyes.
"And how is that my problem?" Carlos said, glaring at Cain, waiting for him to make a false move.
"She's a sea dragon!" Cain bellowed, his arm extended as he pointed toward the water. "Her kind once plundered wooden Viking ships, Roman ships, Greek vessels made of wood! That is why humans put false dragons on their mastheads and tried to ward off a feeding attack by making the dragons think another dragon had already claimed it! She is new to flesh, hungry, in a quest for sensations denied. Call her back. She is headed for suicide, a steel cruise ship, the hull impenetrable to organic flesh matter. She will snap her neck. The turbines will grind her up into bits!" Carlos raced to the water and went in waist deep. Cain didn't have to tell him twice, as he began shouting. "Zehiradangra!"
Damali soaped the natural sea sponge until it burst with lather, and then made soft swirls on Marlene's arms and shoulders. Every so often she'd kiss Marlene's temple as her mother-seer reclined in the huge, old-fashioned claw-footed tub. White adobe walls, mud-sculpted so finely that the designs seemed like lace, created a safe haven, a sanctuary for healing.
Pretty yellow curtains blew away from the window on a balmy sea breeze, the surf a distant rhythm of peace. Only the sound of the bath being disturbed filled the room around them. Terra-cotta tiles, with blue and yellow and white flowers were underfoot, helping to generate an echo each time the water was gently poured over an almost lost body that was badly in need of tender nursing. Damali devoted herself to the task as though