Merrick - Anne Rice [97]
We were in the very middle of the passage when she came to a standstill and flinched as if receiving a shock.
“Get away from me, you won’t stop me!” she whispered. And then in a long stream of French she called on Honey in the Sunshine to make the way.
We hurried on. I wasn’t at all sure that Honey would do anything of the sort. It seemed far more likely that Honey would bring the temple down on our heads.
At last we came out in the jungle once more, and I coughed to clear my throat. I looked back at the edifice. Less was visible on this side than on the front. I felt the spirits all around us. I felt threats without language. I felt myself pushed and shoved by weak creatures desperate to stop my advance.
I needed my handkerchief for the millionth time, to wipe the insects off my face.
Merrick immediately moved on.
The path went steeply upwards. And I beheld the sparkle of the waterfall before I heard its music. There came a narrow place where the water ran deep, and Merrick crossed over to the right bank as I followed, my machete working as hard as hers.
The climb up the waterfall was not difficult at all. But the activity of the spirits became increasingly stronger. Again and again Merrick cursed under her breath. I called on Oxalá to show the way.
“Honey, get me there,” Merrick said.
Quite abruptly I perceived, just beneath an overhang, where the waterfall jetted forward, a monstrous open-mouthed face carved deep into the volcanic rock that surrounded an obvious cave. It was precisely as the doomed Matthew had described it. His camera had been ruined by moisture before he could photograph it, however, and its size was something of a shock.
Now, you can well imagine my satisfaction that we had reached this mythic place. For years I had heard tell of it, it was inextricably bound up in my mind with Merrick, and now we were there. Though the spirits kept up their assault, the gentle mist from the waterfall was cooling my hands and face.
I made my way up to stand beside Merrick, when suddenly the spirits exerted immense pressure against my body, and I felt my left foot go out from under me.
Though I never cried out, but merely reached for purchase, Merrick turned and grabbed hold of me by the loose shoulder of my jacket. That was all I needed to recover my footing and climb the remaining few feet to be at the flattened entrance of the cave.
“Look at the offerings,” Merrick said, putting her left hand on my right.
The spirits redoubled their efforts, but I held firm and so did Merrick, though twice she swiped at something near to her face.
As for “the offerings,” what I beheld was a giant basalt head. It struck me as similar to the Olmec, but that was all I could say. Did it resemble the murals in the temple? Impossible to judge. Whatever it was, I loved it. It was helmeted and tilted upwards so that the face with its open eyes and unique smiling mouth received the rain that inevitably fell here, and at its uneven base, amid piles of blackened stones, stood an amazing array of candles, feathers, and wilted flowers, as well as pottery. I could smell the incense where I stood.
The blackened rocks testified to many years of candles, but the last of these offerings could not have been more than two or three days old.
I felt something change in the air around us. But Merrick seemed as distressed by the spirits as before. She made another involuntary gesture, as though to drive something unseen away.
“So nothing stopped them from coming,” I said quickly, looking at the offering. “Let me try something.” I reached into my jacket pocket and took out a pack of Rothmans, which I was keeping for the inevitability that I would smoke.
I opened them hastily, lighted one with my butane lighter, in spite of the incessant spray of the waterfall, drew in the smoke, and then put the cigarette before the immense head. I put the entire pack with it. Silently I said the prayers to the spirits, asking them to allow us access to this place.
I felt no change in