Asylum (Causal Enchantment #2)(71)

Suddenly the chief spoke. “Demon dog . . . need blood?”

He does speak English! “Yes!” I rushed to my feet. “Max needs to eat. He’s starving.”

The chief stared at me for a long moment and I began to doubt that he did understand. Finally he opened his mouth; one word escaped. “Crocodilus.”

I frowned. Crocodi—“Crocodile?”

He nodded once, as if passing a ruling. “Crocodilus. Demon dog eat.” He waved dismissively toward the jungle. A few tribesmen snickered but I ignored them, proud of my accomplishment. Max wouldn’t starve now. “Thank you! Thank you!” I exclaimed. Not thinking, I reached forward to shake his hand. Luckily the chief had lightning-quick reflexes. In a split second, he had the blunt end of a spear jabbing into my shoulder to block me before I made contact with him.

Flustered, I picked up the bowls of fruit and rushed back to the hut. Way to go, Evangeline. Shake the hand of a poisonous man. That would end your problems quickly.

Max was waiting for me by the entrance. “Did you hear?” I exclaimed, grinning, as I placed the fruit down beside Julian.

Of course I heard, he muttered.

For a starving werebeast, he didn’t sound too grateful. “Well . . . what are you waiting for? Go catch a crocodile!”

Did you also happen to notice the laughter that went with his permission?

I frowned. “Yeah . . . so what?”

Max sighed in exasperation. Crocs hide in the water so they’re harder to kill. Plus they taste like rubber tires and their blood, like ink.

I grimaced, his description about as unappetizing as the thought of eating mice and rats. “Will they satisfy your craving?”

I suppose, Max answered reluctantly.

“Well then, go! And I don’t want to see you back here until you’re full of rubber!”

And leave you here? Are you nuts?

I rolled my eyes. “Because it’d be better for me to go into the jungle with you—full of snakes and tarantulas and God knows what—to watch you wrestle crocodiles for dinner. I’m probably safer right here in this hut than anywhere else in the world right now.”

Max answered with a deep harrumph. He knew I was right. Okay, but stay in here. Don’t get into any trouble.

“Don’t touch them and I’m good, right?”

You almost blew that one with the chief a minute ago . . . nearly gave me a heart attack. Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can. With that, he ran out the door with renewed vigor, likely from the prospect of hunting. He trotted past a crowd of jeering tribesmen, letting out a few growls, but not stopping. At the edge of the clearing, he turned to glance back at me.

“Go!” I waved him on impatiently. That’s all it took. He tore off into the jungle.

Intent on heading back into the hut to devour the bowl of berries—and Julian’s, if he didn’t wake up soon—I was a little disappointed when the chief summoned me to him with a wave. Don’t touch them and you’ll be fine, I reminded myself as I headed back to the fire. Once again, his men scattered as I approached.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing his spear behind me to a small tree stump two of the tribesmen rolled into place three feet away. Obediently, I perched myself on my makeshift chair. He followed suit, settling down in his throne.

We sat in silence, staring at the fire, watching the men feed it from the opposite side. It was now double the size as the previous night’s fire, and the heat it produced made the tropical temperatures that much more uncomfortable. Sweat poured down my forehead. I briefly considered moving back, but I suspected that would insult the chief’s god of fire. So I wiped my brow and sat quietly until I couldn’t anymore. “Thank you for letting Max hunt,” I said.

He nodded, a tiny smirk on his mouth. He understands me . . . I wonder where he learned English? More awkward silence followed. Finally he said two words; two I hadn’t expected. “Cursed heart.” He pointed at my necklace.

Reaching up to roll the pendant in my fingertips, I nodded. “Did Sofie tell you that?”

He shook his head. “I see.”

Frowning, I looked down at the opaque black heart, then back at him. He sees?

“Two souls trapped. I see. One is you. One is green-eyed girl. Long brown hair. Curls.”

That matched Veronique’s description, based on the portrait in Viggo’s parlor . . . but how could he see it?

He held his hands up, his fingers intertwined. “Tangled.”

I bobbed my head up and down. “Yes. Kind of, I guess. They’re bound together.”

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and stared levelly at me. “I . . . untangle?”

I felt my brow knit together. “What . . . do you mean?”

He entwined his fingers as he had done before, then pulled them apart. “I untangle two souls.”

I swallowed, sure he meant something different. “You mean . . . so they’re not bound together?”

He nodded once.

Blood rushed to my ears as excitement made my heart pound. “You can do that?” I whispered.

He nodded again, adding casually, as if offering to wash my car. “I do now?”

“Now?” I repeated like a dim-witted parrot. “Sure. Yeah, I mean—yes, please! Seriously?”

With a nod, a flick of his wrist, and a flurry of barked orders, he sent tribesmen dashing in different directions like a pack of gerbils. They returned with long wooden poles and the same platform the chief had sat on the night before. I watched in amazement as they positioned stands around the outside of the fire and erected all four posts in under a minute. I guess he does his magic from up there.