“Those are the rules,” said the guard. “Take off your clothes and shoes, or De Rosa won’t see you.”
“I don’t have a bathing suit,” Nikki told him.
She looked to the woman for support. There was none.
The guard stared openly at her.
She’d come this far. She refused to quit now. Moving mechanically, she unlaced and kicked off her shoes, peeled away her socks, her jacketand hoodie, unbuttoned her shirt, then folded and placed these neatly in the locker. Face burning, she stripped off her belt and trousers.
She secured the lock and slipped the stiff shoestring lanyard around her neck, the cold key tapping the skin between her breasts.
Standing in her bra and underpants, she stared at the guard, daring him to say more.
He took a good long look, then ambled away.
“Follow me,” the woman instructed.
—
They marched down labyrinthine tiled corridors that echoed with the efficient clip of the woman’s shoes, past massage rooms, into a hot and humid antechamber. Here, light filtered in from a filmy window showing concrete walls stained green with algae. Men in Speedos reclined in blue canvas beach chairs, staring as they walked past.
Her guide stooped, and whispered to one of the men. He answered, gesturing to the room beyond.
In the next chamber, the echoing din of water drowned out all other sound. Men moved chest-deep in a swirling pool, skin reflecting the eerie green light.
Here, the walls were composed entirely of the bare rock face of the mountain, black and pitted, water dripping down. A heavy door was set into this, dark and glossy wet.
The woman pointed.
“In there.”
—
Behind the door was blackness and an assault of heat and steam. Nikki gasped, struggling to breathe.
As her eyes adjusted, she was dismayed to find herself in a narrow volcanic tunnel, the walls uneven and shiny with moisture—black rock scraped away with crude tools, striations still visible, streaked with lines of calcium grey. The soles of her feet burned on hot wooden planks, beneath which came the roar of rushing water, superheated from the volcano.
A bright flash of lightning struck in her memory, the screamingsizzle of an orange flare, and the crashing terror of a thunderstorm in the dark. Her body tensed, ready to fight, ready to tear apart the nightmare waiting for her in the shadows of that cave.
Paralyzed, heart hammering, Nikki told herself to breathe, but the hot air seared her lips, burning her lungs. Chest constricted, panicked, she sipped the air. Closed her eyes.
O my dear Guide, who more than seven times hast rendered me security…. do not desert me….
Gradually, her breathing began to adjust. Yet the heat, unrelenting and stifling, carved desperation along the boundaries of her mind. She wanted to run. Instead, she wended through the narrow passageway, heat growing with every step, until it opened into a cavern lined with wooden benches.
Two men sat side by side on a bench, skin slick in the dim light of a single bulb. The beautiful younger man held a long branch of eucalyptus. He stroked this against the back of Benedetto De Rosa, who was bent forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes closed, the tattoos on his muscled back and arms moving gently as he breathed.
Both seemed lost in their own struggle with the heat and didn’t seem to notice Nikki until she was standing before them.
“Signor De Rosa.”
She spoke loudly to be heard above the relentless rush of water.
De Rosa’s eyes opened, and he leaned backwards, resting against the rough wall. His companion adjusted to the new arrangement, giving Nikki an unfriendly stare.
“Signorina Serafino.” De Rosa’s expression was blank. “Why are you here?”
“I’ve come to ask for your help,” she said.
