Fatal Aroma

By Sasha Mirage

Marisela was found when she was an infant upon the breathtaking shores of Taormina, Sicily. She doesn't know whom she is, or where she is from, and is certain of but one thing: That she loves the ocean. As she dives deeper into the blue waves of her enchanting past, she falls inlove with a man whom may hold the key to secrets she has been searching her entire life to discover.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781491841471

Sasha Mirage

Sasha Mirage love writing poetry, singing, dancing, travel, and learning foreign cultures and languages. She can be contacted at [e-mail]

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Fatal Aroma

Sasha Mirage

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© 2011 by Sasha Mirage. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 08/28/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4389-6998-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4389-7617-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4918-4147-1 (ebook)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Conclusion

A special thanks to TJ Becker for allowing me to use his poems in my book.

Thanks to Shakespeare for his timeless lines and phrases.

Thanks to Patricia Parmalee for her professional editing, while keeping my personality in mind.

And last but not least, thanks to our Nile queen, Cleopatra and her lover Mark Antony for your ancient tale has inspired generations of cultures. May you be reunited in Heaven.

For my grandmother, Maggi Hand, who believed

in me—spending many hours advising, encouraging

and me. Thank you for the compassionate push that

kept me motivated to be all that I can be, and standing

beside me when I feared that things might not turn out

right; you are truly a morning star.

A mirage is a seductive shimmer

on the horizon of life, alluring you,

to an endless path of infatuations

in which the sweetest of all dreams

are covered by enchanted rose petals;

Take heed, for when drawing near,

by hidden thorns you shall be pricked

Upon waking you’ll be once deceived

yet continue lustily toward the promise

until failure becomes a fatal aroma

Chapter 1

In the middle of summer, left struck by the sun

Scorched by the heat, I knew two not from one

Sanity escaped my elusive mind, then sailed away

The sand and I became one in the spot where I lay

As I dreamt of a world, which seemed indeed strange

For this alluring deception was out of arm’s range

As time progressed on, reality started to drift

Without moving a muscle, I felt my body shift

It was mid June, a very hot day in Taormina, Sicily, as I walked across the beach. I smiled when a young boy hurled a bright, orange ball at his older brother. You got me this time. But you better watch out! he laughed and chased after him. You’ll have to catch me first! the boy shouted over his shoulder. In the distance I heard his mother call out, Come back in, the waves are too high!

It appeared to be an average summer day, and the sand await my pale body for a tanning session. I walked farther down the shoreline hoping to escape flying frisbees and the high-pitched laughter of noisy children. Finding a quiet place next to a palm tree, I spread my beach towel on the sand and plopped down with a lonely sigh, aware that my skin would undoubtedly turn red rather than brown. It had to be over a hundred degrees out.

As I lay there sprawled out upon the towel looking out at the crystalline sea, the waves beckoned to me as if having answers. I was discovered by a priest right here along the shoreline of the Ionian Sea when I was a newborn; then later adopted by an older couple whom I love dearly. They raised me as if I were their own; but there was always a piece of me missing. A pining to know who I am, and where I’m from…

Just as I thought! The sun’s rays were scorching, and I would most certainly be baked to a crisp. Other Italians didn’t worry with tanning because they were naturally brown. It annoyed me that I had to shade myself from the heat.

It wasn’t long before the intense heat made me drowsy. Drifting off with a content smile drawn on my lips, I entered a recurring dreamy state. A place, or perhaps another world much different than European landscapes. At the edge of my kaleidoscopic mind vibrant colors and images swirled erratically, punctuated by a bright silver hue. A warm and comforting feeling washed over me, satisfying my longing for answers, even if they were mere illusions of a desperate teenage mind.

However, my smile faded too soon, as a warm gust of air blew in my direction, and orange flames spread rapidly about me. I spun in circles, hopelessly seeking a way to escape the blazing inferno. It was useless. I was trapped in this fiery prison.

I called out for help in vain again. As my lungs filled up with smoke, I held my breath and anticipated charging through to the other side, but found myself of the cowardly. I was going to burn alive! Gasping for air I dropped to my knees in a coughing spell, completely frozen with fear. As the sizzling flames drew closer I frantically prayed for a way out. Dropping my head and slumping my shoulders, I was about to give up all hope, when through the smoldering heat a hand reached out for mine. I took it. My vision was blurred by the thick puffy cloud of smoke emanating from the flames; making it impossible to see a face. But I was sure he be male. There was no denying the strong, masculine arms that wrapped around my waist pulling me from the brink of death.

Like the speed of light a much darker image appeared. A silhouette too far away to make out the gender moving closer and closer. Where was the one who saved me? I heard a male voice laughing hysterically, only a few inches away now. Just as a terrified scream exploded like molten lava spewing from my lips, I awakened upon the blazing hot sand, terrified.

When I opened my eyes, I discovered that my umbrella had flown away, leaving me to bake! I slipped on my sundress and walked along the shore in search of the unfaithful parasol, finding it a few feet away. I picked it up and stood in the warm shallow water admiring the hypnotic waves as they crashed upon the sand like thunder. They were higher than usual today, and might even prove dangerous to inexperienced swimmers. That wasn’t me. Not to say that I laugh in the face of danger, but I am an excellent athlete. As tempting as it seemed to prove myself, as if there were someone out there watching; I started to jump in but shook my head instead, basking in the cool sea mist as it sprayed across my face and shoulders.

Not far off seaward, where the great bath of salt met the azure sky and blended together in one perfect shade of blue, was a ship with nets cast down. This must be a great day for fishing. The waves were bringing everything to shore, including a long piece of seaweed that had wrapped itself around my leg. I pulled it off and hurled it back into the water.

In the distance, a magical, yet familiar sight caught my eye. A pink dolphin jumping through roiling waves. And yet, I felt a calming serenity at the sight of her silky body, as she splashed flirtatiously through the water, portraying a magical display of oceanic life painted upon canvas. The view was breathtaking and I felt I could stand there for eternity.

But no, I was going to be late! It was Mother’s birthday, and I had to be there in twenty minutes for the surprise party. I bid the beautiful dolphin farewell and headed east toward the ballroom Father rented for the evening. Arrangements for having my gown sent there had been made with high aspirations of spending an extra hour on the beach. Approaching the end of the sand, I heard a familiar voice calling me. Marisela, meaning star of the sea; a name which was imprinted on a sand dollar necklace, I was wearing the day I was found. Father recounted the tale over and over, right on key, You were lying upon the sand like a starfish waiting to be discovered, he would intone. That ocean brought you to us and it will sweep you away.

I looked up at my best friend Keir, whom was now towering over me. He wore a black and white tuxedo with his dark, black hair slicked back and gleaming.

Marisela, you are lost in a daydream again! Didn’t you hear me calling your name? he grinned.

Mi dispiace Keir. I’m in a hurry to get to the party before Father arrives and starts inquiring about me, I admitted with flushed cheeks.

He laughed, Ho dimenticato. I knew you would be here, forgetting to keep track of time, and in dire need of a knight and shining armor to charge in to your rescue!

That’s not true. I was just about to leave, I slapped him playfully on the back, then began skipping toward the ballroom.

Keir, like me was an only child, and the same age. His parents own a shipping company, and mine are merchants; they are business partners as well as best friends. It was predestined that Keir and I would follow down the very same path.

He slid his fingers through his smooth, black hair. "You know something Marisela, your name suits you perfectly, ‘star of the sea’. For after sunset, your radiance assists the moon in illuminating the world around you."

Though his words were charming, turning my frown to a smile, I didn’t melt upon hearing them. This was more of an innocent crush that school girls developed for a new boy each week. Again, I blushed at thoughts of having a crush on Keir. I’d be turning eighteen soon, and had yet to experience my first kiss. Something most considered strange in my culture. But I was a helpless romantic awaiting the perfect moment, and refusing to settle for less.

Arriving at the ballroom, I forgot all about Keir’s comment and crushes. I excused myself from his side and marched into the dressing room to primp for the party. My gown was a pelagic shade of periwinkle, which I had selected because it matched my skin tone perfectly. I carefully slipped it on, then quickly pinned my long golden locks behind my head, allowing the bottom half to rest against the small of my back. I painted my lips with lavender gloss then lightly sprinkled glitter on top. Keir insists that I look like an angel this way, or perhaps a ‘sea nymph’—a royal title bestowed upon me by my father. Laughing, I blew a coquettish kiss at my reflection, then strutted back into the ballroom like a well practiced model.

Marisela, you look marvelous! Your mother is just going to adore that dress! Father said with pride.

Grazie. When should she be arriving? I asked.

Your aunt, Elena, should have her here any moment now. Be prepared to disappear! he mused, acting as if she knew not what he had planned for the evening. Mother, however, feigned being flabbergasted accordingly; although, I couldn’t recall there ever being an occasion when an easily predicted surprise party was not held in her honor. But on the contrary, this particular gathering differed from the others because the elaborate celebration was taking place in a ballroom. And that could mean only one thing… dancing!

This year’s theme was flattering for my ego, seeing that I had an evident fluidity that most needed a considerable amount of practice to achieve. And although I took Pharaonic dance lessons, better known as ‘belly dance’ my teacher was convinced that I’m a natural seductress. I shook the thought off with a sanguine smile as Aunt Elena tiptoed across the threshold and whispered, She’s here. Everyone hide!

Aunt Elena, is Mother’s eldest sister but has nowhere near Mother’s warmth. She wears a witch’s scowl with nostrils that flare out like a bull’s; and just like a soldier she marches in without any trace of emotion, imparting a level of gloom. It’s not because she is evil, but rather too old-fashioned; and scornful of my romantic nature. When our eyes met I waved and feigned a smile; thankful she couldn’t read my true thoughts.

Father winked and hid behind a cake that was stacked up four feet tall to resemble the one he and Mother shared at their wedding. Enrique, Keir’s father, crouched down beside him. Turn out the lights! Father called out to his friend, Patrizio. She’s here!

Got it! Patrizio reached out and flipped off the light switch. Everyone make yourselves vanish! He exclaimed and slid behind a fake palm tree.

Patrizio, whom lost his wife three years ago due to an accident, was comparably as miserable as my aunt. Grief had long since etched a permanent frown across his face; and his bronze cheeks were stained with tears of sorrow. His coarse, salt-and-pepper hair was trimmed in jagged edges, and lay matted to his forehead as if he cared not how he presented himself to the public. I often thought of him as Aunt Elena’s perfect match.

Hide Marisela! Keir grabbed my arm, interrupting my unspoken thoughts. I giggled and stooped below the the table beside him.

Keir’s mother, Gabriela, knelt down behind one of the large speakers in the corner of the ballroom. Falling perfectly against her symmetrical cheek bones were curly strands of lush, brown hair. Her large castaneous eyes were intensified by Kohl and mascara, and they sparkled like diamond dust as she gazed upon her only son. Affection, mixed with a touch of sadness were evident in her glance. It left me confounded and craving for answers.

My attention was redirected toward Aunt Elena, as she led Mother into the room. Excited guests, like wound up jack-in-the-boxes, shouted, Surprise! As the musician strummed his guitar to ‘Happy Birthday’, Father sang the lyrics, motioning for us to join in. The smile on Mother’s face and look in her eyes should have been captured and framed on a wall like her cherished wedding photos. She kissed Father’s cheek. Martino, this is by far the most commendable of all celebrations.

I’m glad you like it. he smiled. Buon compleanno bella mia.

Mother was right. The party was exquisite and like no other that I’d ever attended; and in my short life span that was many. Candles were lit, reflecting off the large stone walls with a dazzling effect; flowers of all sorts and shades adorned the tables; and streamers of pink and white, along with matching balloons were hung from the ceiling, bouncing with the excited motion of our guests. The musicians were melodious, never failing to miss a note. And that cake looked delicious!

Keir and I pushed through the crowd, to where my parents stood proudly informing his folks about a spur of the moment trip they were planning to Malta. When Mother spotted me she spun around on her heels. Your dress is adorable! she exclaimed, and wrapped her arms around me. The color suits you perfectly.

Her loving embrace made me feel guilty about wishing to find my birth parents. I had every luxurious object a young girl could ever wish for, and might as well be a crowned princess, for I wasn’t denied anything. Grazie Mother. Buon compleanno! I exclaimed, thankful she couldn’t read my mind.

But motherly instinct kicked in, and it was stress-fully obvious that she knew I was up to something mischievous. Instead of coercing me into a confession she pulled Keir into a hug, whispering so lowly that only the first three words could be made out. Find out what…

Will do, the corners of his mouth curved into a smile. That’s what I live for.

When other friends shifted toward her with pleasant greetings, Keir turned to me with an arched brow. Your mother seems to believe that you’re hiding something.

Not exactly, I shook my head. I was just imagining what it would be like to find my birth parents again. I don’t want her to find out out though. I’m afraid it would hurt her.

Oh, Keir breathed a sigh of relief. I’m sure she would want to know what’s on your mind. You know your mother isn’t the judgmental type.

Forse, I agreed. But there’s also something else on my mind.

Che cosa?

I keep having this peculiar dream.

Dream?

Si. I’ve seen this place; this other world, I stopped as our friend Valerie strutted over wearing a red satin gown, authentic diamond necklace with matching earrings to die for, and a carnal smile that belied her charming dimples. Her onyx black curls were swept back in a barrette and bounced like springs with each beguiling step she took. No matter the occasion, she was the life of the party, and one to keep an entire crowd of people laughing like hyenas. Marisela, I have a surprise for you! she announced, sacharinely.

For me? It’s not my birthday!

Keir, let me borrow your girl for a minute. Actually, make that five. This will be very entertaining, I promise.

Your girl. Why did she keep saying that? Keir and I were so obviously only friends. Not a couple. He could never have eyes for me. I’m so not his type…

His reassuring voice brought me back to reality. You don’t need my permission Val. I’ll be the first in line to see what’s about to take place.

Valerie winked at him then clutched my forearm, swiftly leading me across the dance floor and onto the stage. She gave cue to the musicians and took a bow. Ladies and gentlemen, did we come here tonight to sway to a melancholy tune or dance? She asked seductively, teasing our audience.

My parents were holding wine glasses and mingling with a group of colleagues. Their looks of approval hinted that she had already been granted permission to carry out her mischievous plan. Dance! Dance! Dance! shouted family and friends.

And who could better start us off tonight than our very own Marisela? she asked rhetorically, as she shoved me into the limelight. My eyes widened and my mouth plopped wide open. I’m going to kill you slowly and tortuously, Val.

No, you’re going to dance my friend.

Our audience clapped, roaring with anticipation. Dance! Dance! Dance!

I had performed many times before, but never in front of a crowd such as Father had gathered here tonight. And never was I the first to start. Heat spread across my cheeks as I unwrapped the periwinkle scarf from around my neck and secured it tightly about my hips. If this was my moment then I would just have to shine.

As the drum pounded in my ears, my heart matched each beat unfaltering, feeling as though the vibration was emitted from somewhere within. Assorted Middle Eastern instruments including the mizmar, shabab and qanan, weaved their magical spell around me. I rolled my abdominal muscles then slowly transitioned into diagonal body waves, as I glided gracefully across the marble floor. When the drum was lulled momentarily, and a harp-like melody began playing, I formed inward hip circles emphasized by hand floreos to create a dramatic movement.

Someone whistled in the background. I looked up to see Valerie clapping. Then my eyes met Keir’s. I almost lost concentration at the sight of the unquenchable fiery gaze that he cast upon me.

I twisted my waist into a figure eight, praying that the move coordinated with the music until I had a chance to catch my breath again. As the tune sped up I concentrated on spinning around on my tip toes with flat palms against my hips, bringing my heels to the ground only when facing the crowd. A mystical sound flowed from the shabab that I interpreted by using an undulation that imitates the slithering nature of a snake. When the drum was struck again, I dropped my hips to the trills; and as it reached a rhythmical crescendo, I shimmied. The drum was pounding like thunder in my ears. I shook my body faster and faster, until the music faded with one last pulsating tap that my right hip struck simultaneously.

The crowd applauded with a roar of approval. I curtsied, then rushed down the steps toward Valerie, who was chatting flirtatiously with Keir’s cousin, Santino. He winked at me as I approached them. Bravo, Bravo, Marisela! Why haven’t you danced for us before? he asked. You had the temperature rising.

Grazie Santino. I guess that’s the reward of a lot of practice, I paused to glance up at Keir, whose eyes were aglow from my choice of words, for he knew that fluidity was a trait I was born with-one as easy as breathing. Performing however, was the work of our devious friend, I giggled.

I had no idea your cheeks would turn so very blood red, Valerie beamed. But really, you did an excellent job up there!

Grazie Val, I’m sure you could have given me a better warning before announcing to the world that I would be performing tonight!

I didn’t announce it to the world Marisela, she replied innocently. I only announced it to everyone in your world.

The band struck up my parent’s favorite song. I looked up to find them already swaying to the melody, and Enrique not far behind as he led a striking Gabriela onto the dance floor. Closest to the stage was Valerie’s cousin, Valentina, wrapped up in her fiancee Leone’s arms. Their wedding day was almost here, and I looked forward to the celebration. Both couple’s parents along with Santino’s, stood engaged in a conversation in the opposite corner of the room.

Santino offered his hand to Valerie, May I have this dance, Juliette?

She winked at him, Why I shan’t deny Romeo any request.

It was just Keir and me alone now.

Your eyes sparkle like sapphires tonight, he whispered in a voice as sultry as the air. Surly I’m the envy of all men having you here beside me.

I flashed a meek smile.

May I have this dance?

Si, Keir. I would love to dance with you, I replied in a credulous tone that proved me childish once again, and nothing of the seductress I reflected earlier. I mean sure.

He cupped my left hand in his and placed it firmly against his solid chest, then slid his palm gently down my hip. With his free hand, he reached for my right, guiding it out toward the side. As we began careening to the violin, a thought of home raced through my mind; the ethereal home from my dreams. Although, I concentrated on capturing the essence of that place, the feeling subsided before I had a chance to taste the fruit of my longing.

As Keir held me close, I felt that some part of who I am was entwined with his existence. It was as if our thoughts were of the same place and time. As he gazed deeply into my eyes our surroundings melted into oblivion. I never looked down, but could have sworn our feet were no longer touching the floor. A white cloudy haze as thick as cotton slowly circled around us, hypnotizing me into a dreamy state. I desired nothing more than to simply continue dancing for eternity. I closed my eyes and inhaled Keir’s sweet cologne; and when I reopened them, the magic of the moment had vanished like a mirage. I wondered if he felt the same way, or if the experience proved to be no more than a mere fabrication.

It’s time to delight in tonight’s gourmet dishes, one of the caterers announced from the stage. As the last note of the melody faded majestically into the night, Keir led