Page 19 of Deadly Sacrifice

Mu was an artist appreciating the calm before the storm. The divine energy of the land around him rose up once more, empowering him with a sense of destiny; that flow ofmanafilled him again.

He might have begun these sacrifices with a hidden personal need, but now he was serving a greater purpose.

Stepping up to the man and surprising him from out of the darkness, Mu flipped on a powerful headlamp. His figure would be a chilling silhouette behind the blinding beam of unexpected illumination. Kleftes swiveled to face Mu, startled, his camera forgotten.

Before the man could react, Mu spoke, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo the dormant volcano’s deep stirrings. “Tonight, you are part of something ancient, something necessary. You represent those who take without giving, who tread sacred grounds with no thought of the ancestral spirits that watch over this land.”

Jonas frowned, blinded. He raised his hands, palms out, in a surrender gesture. “I come here with respect, with love for these islands. I’m just in the crater to take pictures.”

“And yet you kill the‘ainawith your bulldozers and buildings.” Mu uncovered the syringe, keeping the light shining into Jonas’s blinded, blinking eyes. “Your time has come.”

Kleftes sensed danger at last and made a run for it, wheeling to stumble into the darkness, desperation lending speed to his legs—but the man’s vision was still impaired by the abrupt light changes, and the uneven ground was treacherous. Mu was relentless, motivated, and had illumination on his side. Catching up to Kleftes, he knocked the developer to the rough ground, put a knee in his back, and stabbed the syringe into his neck.

The man rolled away with a cry. He grabbed a stone, swinging it at his attacker—but Mu saw the clumsy maneuver coming, and evaded it easily.

He moved away and stood, letting Kleftes go, giving the man the illusion of a chance and making his own anticipation last longer. “Run. If you can.”

Jonas Kleftes scrambled up and rushed away a few feet—and then stumbled, falling to his knees. He pulled himself up and staggered, then fell. He was crawling, dragging his body with his arms, when Mu caught up with him.

Mu grabbed the man’s hair and tugged him to his feet. Swaying and disoriented, Kleftes swung his arms a few times, trying to strike—but Mu shook him by the hair until the man fell to his knees again.

“Come. Meet your destiny.” Mu tugged Jonas upright. He dragged him by his hair, faltering and stumbling, back to the small koa tree.

Mu subdued Kleftes and stripped off the man’s clothing as he increasingly lost motor control. He rifled the man’s pockets and took his phone and wallet, setting them aside.

He then redressed Jonas in amalo,binding his wrists with the fiber rope, fastening the sacrificial victim securely to the twisted koa tree. The stars Jonas Kleftes loved so much would be silent witnesses to his final moments.

Kleftes was deeply under the influence of the drug by then, his eyes rolling, his body limp and unresponsive as Mu put the man’s ID in the offering wrapped in ti leaves he’d already prepared. He placed the leaf-wrapped bundle between the man’s sprawled legs.

Mu’s pulse was rapid as he tossed the man’s clothing and hiking boots over a nearby ledge—they didn’t belong in this important scene that would be recorded for the world to see and appreciate.

He then set up the video camera he’d brought on its tripod.

At last, heart racing with the high of this moment, Mu positioned himself behind the tree, out of view of the camera’s eye. He flicked on the recording device and its harsh lightbulb using a remote.

Mu let his eyes adjust, then reached around, gripping Jonas's hair, and tilting the man’s head back to expose his throat. The toothedleiomanoweapon gleamed under the video camera’s harsh illumination as he raised it, savoring the moment. As Mu made the first cut, the wet sound of shark’s teeth biting into human flesh was almost lost to the sough of the wind over the volcanic expanse of Haleakala Crater.

Jonas Kleftes’s life force ebbed as his blood pumped and sprayed, soaking the thirsty ground: an offering to the land and a small reparation for what he’d taken from it.

Mu stepped back, his breathing heavy, watching as blood flowed from Jonas’s body and it became a husk, dead as the stones surrounding them.

Above, the stars spun in their eternal dance, silent witnesses to the sacrifice.

13

JEFF

The next morning,Jeff Brian hopped into his photographer friend Randy’s truck, heading for Haleakala National Park at the summit of the mountain the park was named for. Randy was a longtime photographer on the island who’d made his name creating artistic island images before the digital revolution.

“What are we going to see today?” Jeff asked. “We’re too late for the famous dawn shoot.”

“Nah. That’s overrated with tickets and tourist buses, but there’s a lot to see and do that is even better. I hope you packed the food and water I told you to; we’ve got a whole day of hiking and shooting ahead.”

“Sure did.” Jeff patted the rounded side of his backpack. “Brought layers for the temperature, too.”

“Good. The elevation makes it cold up there, especially in the mornings. We’re going to stop at Hosmer Grove first.” Randy turned on his truck, a big Ford F-250 with a camper shell on the back for overnighters. “The Grove’s just inside the park entrance, at about seven thousand feet of elevation. We should see some‘i‘iwi,‘apapane, and‘amakihi—native birds there that don’t exist anywhere except Hawaii. Did you bring a long lens?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a 100-400 telephoto zoom with a tripod. Will that work?” Jeff restrained himself from bouncing on the seat. He’d been wanting to go “up the mountain” since he moved to the island, but had waited until Randy, generous with his time, could work a full day with him into his schedule.

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