Raga Six (A Doctor Orient Occult Novel) Read Online Free Page B

thin boy of four or five dressed in a green suede Robin Hood outfit, complete with feathered hat and buckskin leggings, ambled over to where he was sitting, plunked down beside him and calmly rested his chin on Orient’s knee.  
    Orient was momentarily uncomfortable. He looked around to see where the child had come from. "Don’t be uptight, it’s all right," a pleasant feminine voice called out. Orient looked up and saw a young girl at the edge of the circle of musicians beaming at him. She stood up and walked toward him.  
    She was barefoot and dressed in a mini-skirted version of the child’s Robin Hood costume. Her wavy chestnut hair hung almost to her waist and Orient saw that a large silver Ankh, the loop-topped Egyptian cross of life, was dangling from her wide belt. She sat down next to him and looked directly into his face with her wide brown eyes. "You must have a nice soul," she said seriously. "Julian won’t sit down with just anyone."  
    Orient smiled. Something about her manner dispelled any discomfort he felt. "I’m not very used to children."  
    "Children are more aware than adults," the girl said. "They feel pure vibrations, you know."  
    Orient nodded. "Perhaps I do."  
    The girl wasn’t conventionally pretty, but when she smiled, her small, sensitive face radiated a deep sense of joy. She studied him for a moment. "Perhaps you do at that," she said finally. "I’m Sun Girl."  
    "Sun Girl?" Orient repeated.  
    "That’s my name," the girl laughed, delighted at Orient’s confusion.  
    Orient thought it over. "My name is Owen," he said.  
    "That’s weird." Sun Girl leaned back on the grass.  
    "Hello, Owen," Julian said gravely.  
    They fell silent, listening to the music as it built in volume and force. Most of the young people on the grassy area gathered around the musicians, until they were packed into a tight semicircle around them, swaying and moving with the escalating rhythms. Julian had gotten to his feet and was jumping about in imitation of the twenty or so couples who were dancing to the insistent sounds. Sun Girl began to clap her hands in time to the loud, throbbing beat.  
    Orient saw that some of the neighborhood athletes had joined the garish crowd. Most of them, however, were still standing behind the wire fences of the recreation areas, watching the revelers impassively. A few—very few—were moving to the music.  
    The old people on the benches were gone.  
    Someone passed by and dropped a cellophane-wrapped sandwich and a few apples into his lap. Orient looked up. A dozen boys and girls dressed in overalls and carrying shopping bags were circulating through the crowd distributing food. He looked questioningly at Sun Girl.  
    "Pig People," she shouted over the noise. "They always show up when something groovy is happening. Like magic." Orient munched his sandwich, too amazed to answer. He felt like a visitor to a curious new country. The air became pungent with the smell of burning leaves, and the driving music was nudging more and more people up to dance. The crowd was moving and laughing ecstatically.  
    Orient caught a glimpse of the cowboy. The man was smiling broadly, snapping his fingers and swinging his long red hair from side to side. Orient stood up to get a better look and suddenly noticed that the athletes who had been standing in the play area were in full-scale exodus from the park; scrambling up fences, dropping to the sidewalks on the other side and running down the street like a small army of well-trained guerrillas.  
    A moment later the music and noise was split by the sounds of sirens, whistles, and tires screeching against asphalt, as the park was surrounded by wailing squadrons of police cars and trucks. Helmeted police leaped out of the cars and covered the exits.
    The music stopped. For a long time everything was still except for the dying whine of the sirens. No one moved. The rotating emergency lights on the cars flashed in the lowering