The Shaman's Secret by Natasha Narayan Read Free Book Online Page A

an outsider, he had becoming very powerful. So powerful that these days Cecil could walkbarefoot over hot coals or lie naked on an iceberg. He was all but a shaman himself.
    Yet, despite all his mystical power, Cecil Baker was cursed. His magic was useless against the disease eating him from the inside, the brand of the snake on his arm. (Yes, like his brother and I, he was branded.) But he saw one way out. The Anasazi tablet. He believed that if he had the tablet he would be able to cheat the gates of hell. He would become immeasurably powerful. I asked many questions, but I wasn’t told
exactly
how this tablet would help Cecil trick his fate. But in some way, his brother was sure, Cecil believed this tablet would be his salvation.
    Cecil sought this relic in the Grand Canyon, a huge area of towering cliffs and gorges in the Arizona desert.
    His face contorting with desperation, Cyril Baker had told us he believed his brother had gone mad. He’d become obsessed, consumed by a lust for the tablet. He had hatched plans too dreadful even for his adoring twin to go along with. Cecil would use the tablet to make himself invincible—and into the bargain he would kill me.
    â€œPlease, please believe me. We must stop my brother. We must find the tablet first or Cecil will be unstoppable,” Cyril had begged.
    â€œHow?” we had asked. How could we find this legendary and fiercely guarded tablet in the Grand Canyon, a wilderness of cliffs? All Cyril had replied was that he hadthe same clues as his brother to its whereabouts. With our help,
he
could get there first.
    Now sitting at my bedroom window, with my head throbbing, I thought over Cyril’s story. On the face of it, there was no reason to trust him. He had always hated me. He had kidnapped me, shot at me, tricked me. I was supposed to believe in his sudden volte-face. Now he was acting as if all he wanted to do was save my life.
    Why were the Baker brothers so interested in me anyway? Right from the start of our involvement I had the impression they were focusing on
me
. This feeling was stronger than ever. Cyril had even hinted as much, saying his brother was fascinated by me. That he wanted me, Kit Salter, dead.
    Why me? I kept turning the question over in my mind. It had become a niggle, an itch that I had to scratch.
    Did we really have a chance to find the Anasazi tablet, with a madman after it?

    After I had turned our dilemma uselessly over in my head for some time, I went downstairs to the parlor. My friends, father and aunt were all there, arguing.
    Father wanted to stay here and rest. Waldo backed him up fiercely. He could not lead us into any more danger, he said. But the rest, including the cautious Rachel,surprisingly, argued that we had to find this
thing
lurking in the Grand Canyon. Rachel told me, in a private moment, that she felt some terrible curse hanging over my head. Above all she wanted to “set me free.”
    In the end the argument was unresolved. Waldo, Isaac and Aunt Hilda were to set off once again, back to a slum area of the city. Mr. Baker had told them he would prove he’d become a different man. He was going to show them a couple of the charitable projects on which he had spent his dirty money. I wanted to go with them, but was ordered back to my room. For once I didn’t protest too much. Rachel was staying behind too. She was to be my jailor.
    So I went back to my room and lay down, while Rachel knitted in the corner. After a while, I slept. My dreams were full of twisting snakes: glistening black cobras, adders bright as blades of spring grass, pythons flickering toward me with their eyes glinting. Snakes, snakes and more snakes. I was stepping on a pile of them. A small grass snake detached itself from the heap and began crawling up my leg. “No!” I shouted in horror, backing away. But the thing was on me, wriggling wetly up my leg.
    I couldn’t shake it off.
    When I woke up, my hair was damp