I put her puzzling comment aside long enough for the two of us to rave over Dora’s cart. It was packed with small dishes of sardines, spiced cheeses, clams, mussels, and a variety of greens and sauces—enough food for six people.
“I guess we’re expecting company?” I said, helping Niki into her chair.
“We are not expecting company,” Niki said before taking another sip of wine. She turned to Dora. “You would quickly send them away, no?”
“Do not worry, my dear. There will be no company tonight. No distractions.” An impish grin covered her face. “Unless, of course, you create them for yourselves. Now, enjoy.” Dora headed for the door. “I give you time; then I bring the main course.”
When the door clicked shut, I nipped a bite off a sardine and restarted our conversation.
“You said you knew me. You mind explaining?”
“I am not so sure that it is a good idea.”
“You’re the one that brought it up.”
She forked a clam from its shell and ate it.
“Do you remember when we were on Pialigos, walking to the boat, and Euphemia took you to the side?”
“Doubt if I’ll forget that any time soon.”
“What did she say to you? Do you mind telling me?”
“She got kind of crazy. Said walking that labyrinth is my destiny, something to do with restoring the human spirit. Said I won’t sleep right until I do it. According to her, I don’t have a choice. My eyes are gonna be opened if the Great Mother has to pry ’em with a screwdriver.”
“She did not say that.”
I shrugged. “That was the drift.”
“Did she … did she say anything about … me?”
“No. Was she supposed to?”
“Only if she wished.”
“You going to tell me what this is all about, or am I going to have to get you down and tickle it out of you?”
“Ha! You would not think of running such a risk.” She took another bite. “It is nothing. Eat.”
She was looking for something; I just wasn’t sure what.
Through the remainder of appetizers, our dinner, and the start of our second bottle of wine, we turned the conversation to everything from commentary on the sinking sun to her explanation of the difference between our main course of Greek lobster and the more conventional brand that I’d known.
“You notice there are no claws,” she said, the scientist suddenly appearing in her voice. “But you also notice it has great bulk. The meat that is lost in the lack of claws is compensated for in a greater size and by the fact that you can find meat in the head and in the antenna.”
“Head?” The thought conjured up a musty green mush that I vowed would never touch the tip of any fork of mine again. I guessed she saw something of that memory in my face.
“It is not like you think,” she said, the flutter of her eyes betraying a few memories of her own. She cracked the shell. “You see, sweet white meat, just like the tail.”
After desserts of coffee ice cream on a dark chocolate nut truffle, we relaxed in our chairs and basked in the pleasure of a perfect meal, wrapped in the warm blanket of fine wine.
She was talking softly about something; I was drifting, lost in the face of an angel half-hidden in the timid light of a rising moon. Her voice trailed off when I stood, took her hand, and eased her into my arms. In slow, timeless movements, we danced to the delicate strains of music that sweetened the night air. I brushed my lips over her ear.
“I love you,” I whispered, breathing the soft fragrance of her hair.
She pulled back slightly and looked at me, her saucer eyes misted by the truth of my words.
“I love you,” she whispered.
I kissed her, a light, titillating touch of our lips. Passions rose, and our bodies tensed. Fingers, no longer satisfied to caress, searched eagerly through clothing for a tighter, closer, softer hold. I pressed my mouth hard against hers, gathered her in my arms, and carried her to the bed. There we made love, our bodies and souls intermingling, merging one into the other, a mystical union, full and natural, as ancient and as healing as the murmur of Aegean waves rolling gently through that moon-shadowed night.
My eyes flashed open. I sat up gasping for breath, sweating, Niki clutching my arm.
“It is all right,” she said, her tone urgent. “You … you were having a nightmare.”
The sound of her voice drew me back into our reality. “Yeah,” I said, blinking at a dissipating wall of rage-distorted faces. “A nightmare.”
She pulled me back to the pillow, slipped an arm around my waist, and squeezed my side.
“You are trembling.”
“They were gonna kill me,” I said.
“Who was going to kill you?”
“I … I don’t know. Bunch of people. A crowd. They were angry … throwing rocks and … and yelling. They wouldn’t let me talk. At first, I couldn’t see them. Everything was … black, like … like I was blind or something.” I rolled my head toward Niki. “You were there. You were wearing a dress, white, but it was torn … dirty … like you’d been … beaten.” The image angered me. “I couldn’t do anything. You were screaming my name, but …” Something suddenly came to me.
“But what?”
“Anatolios.”
“Anatolios?” Her fingers tightened on my side. “That is the name I called you?”
“Yeah.”
She snuggled into my shoulder and stroked my chest. “What did I do?” Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
“At first, I could only hear your screams. Then, I saw you. You were pushing your way through the mob. They tried to pull you back, but you … you got away. You ran at me … full force. But it was like … like you were moving in slow motion. I could see the terror in your eyes, the movement of your mouth, your flexing muscles, all in slow motion. When you hit me, we started falling. Down … down like it was never going to end. Then I woke up.”
Silence drifted between us. Niki sniffed, and I realized she was weeping. I rolled over and stroked her hair.
“Hey, it was just a dream.”
“No. This was not just a dream. Think about it. Panagiota.”
She offered no further explanation. I started to press her but stopped. Suddenly I knew. I got out of bed, paced the room, moved to the window, and stared out. A lone cricket chirped. Faint shadows cast by the falling moon reached for the sea. I turned to Niki, now sitting up, clutching the sheet over her breasts. “You?”
She draped herself in the sheet and joined me at the window. “I had to let you come to know for yourself. I … I was Panagiota.”
“You knew that?”
“Yes. Since I was a child I have known.”
“That’s what you were trying to tell me last night? The thing about the airport?”
“Yes. The very moment that I saw you, I knew you were Anatolios. I knew it. That is why I was so cold to you. I was frightened. Do you understand? I knew who you were in that very instant that our eyes met.”
Remembering those feelings of familiarity started a chill down my spine. “There was something going on. I … I didn’t know what it was.”
“Now you do.”
“Kyropos. I felt it then.” I remembered the moment we kissed. “And last night … when we made love. I … I’ve never felt what I … what I felt for you. Never. Niki, there’s something between us, something … ancient.” I slipped my arms around her.
Fear flashed through her eyes; she pulled away and turned toward the sea.
“Niki, what’s wrong?”
“I … I am so afraid.”
“Afraid? What’s there to be afraid of?”
“I am afraid I will lose you.”
“Lose me?” I turned her by the shoulders and forced her to look at me. “I’m not letting you go, not ever again.”
“But … you do not understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand. I love you, Niki. Not even the fires of hell can separate us. That’s what I understand.”
She broke, sobbing. I held her tight. “Niki? What is it? You’ve got to tell me.”
I could smell the delicate scent of her tears when she lifted her face. “According to Pialigarian prophecy, there will be two signs given to announce the Prophet’s return. The Dream Child will have the last dream. This is the first sign.”
“Euphemia’s dream.”
“Yes. The second prophecy foretells Panagiota’s return to Pialigos to announce the Prophet’s coming.”
“That’s why you wanted me to meet Euphemia.” Another piece of Niki’s mysterious behavior suddenly fell in place.
“I knew you were Anatolios, but I wanted her to see. She saw it too. Stuart, the second prophecy has been fulfilled.”
Anger toward the insanity of the idea sizzled in my gut. “You’re saying that the only thing left for me to do is walk that labyrinth, get whatever the hell I’m supposed to get, and use it to save all the lost souls wandering aimlessly through their empty lives?”
“It is beyond our control,” she insisted. “This is your destiny, the path of your labyrinth. I cannot tell you how afraid I am. I do not want to lose you, ever again. But, you have to do this. For the world. For us. You … you cannot avoid the Walk of the Prophet.”
“To hell with the world. To hell with the walk of the damn Prophet. I’m not doing it.”
It didn’t make any sense. I’d never even heard of a Pialigarian until I came to the islands. Why would somebody like me be responsible for fulfilling their wacko prophecy? It was crazy. This whole thing was crazy. My walking that labyrinth wasn’t going to accomplish anything, except maybe get me killed.
“Do you want me to die over this?” It was a hurtful thing to say, and I knew the answer before the question flew out of my mouth, but I was too angry to stop it.
“No!” She was horrified. “Do not ever say that again! I do not want you to die. Ever!” She scampered across the room and threw herself into the bed, sobbing.
The anger still boiled. “Then forget all this crap about labyrinths and prophets,” I said, my voice growing louder. I stepped toward the bed, stopped at my trousers crumpled on the floor, snatched them up, and drove in a leg. “We’re not going back to Pialigos. And I’m sure not walking that labyrinth.” I grabbed the rest of my clothing and started for the door.
Her head came up. “Where are you going?”
I wasn’t sure. “Walk. Outside. I’ve got to get outside.” I started to go.
“Stuart, I love you. I love you, so very much.”
Her words, pleading and filled with fear, stopped me cold and brought me to my senses. I took a calming breath, stepped back to the bed, sat next to her, and ran my fingers through her hair. God, how could I hurt her like this?
“Niki, I love you. Why do you have to keep talking about all this … this …” I didn’t finish the sentence. She obviously believed everything that worried her. “Look, I need to walk, do some thinking. There’s a hell of a lot going on that I don’t understand. The only thing I really know is that I love you. Whatever all this other stuff is, I know I love you. Nothing’s ever going to change that.”
“Do you … do you want me to come with you?”
Her tear-filled eyes sparkled with some unseen light. I wanted to crawl back in bed with her, hold her.
“Niki, I want to be with you. More than anything. But I … I’ve got to sort this out … get it all straight in my head.” I ran the backs of my fingers over her cheek. “Do you understand? I’ve got to think. I need to be alone.”
I felt her head nod in my hand. I gave her a slow, assuring kiss on the lips, stood looking at her for a few more moments, and then I turned and left the house.
J Douglas Bottorff 