“See? You are learning. I would have figured it out. She’s never that relaxed. I’m wondering if Dorian has figured it out yet or not.”
“I don’t know, I rarely see them interact. She mostly just interacts with Ingrid and Michelle, sometimes Chloe.”
“We can’t all be best friends.”
“I’m just glad that you all seem to get along, even with Veronique in the group. And please, do something to Dorian so she won’t dwell on it.”
“Done,” Grace said with a yawn. “So the tour guide coming with us is an expert, according to the guys at the front desk. They believed it too, so I don’t think they were just trying to upsell him to me. He should help us navigate Pharping. We’ll also need to come up with a strategy for what we should do if we run into Damon Lord, or better, when we run into him.”
“We don’t know exactly if he’s there or not, but we’re pretty sure,” I said.
“He may have some protection with him, then again, he might have come alone.”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll have someone with him, especially after what happened in India. Hummingbird would have let him know, and Bae would have brought some backup. I mean, why else would we be in India unless we were trying to get to him. So let’s operate on the assumption that he has muscle with him.”
“And is our plan the same as it was back at the island? We go straight for Damon?”
I considered this for a moment.
There were too many variables, that was the real answer, and it depended on who Damon had with him, and if it was a person we had dealt with before.
There really was no telling. We had absolutely no info on how many supers Damon had created in Asia, and apparently, if Kenneth was any indication, Damon could unlock powers in “normals,” as Angel would have pejoratively called him.
“I’ll have a word with Veronique about it, but I do have some ideas. As usual, we’re going into a situation that could prove troublesome for us. But the most important thing to me, and I’m serious here, Grace, is that we all make it out alive. The faster we kill him, the better, but it’s equally important that every member is accounted for, and that we make it out alive.”
Grace nodded. “We can’t have another Fiona.”
“No, we can’t.”
We were back on the road in Nepal, cutting through the city in a chartered van, the developing Third World nation swelling all around me, the space tight, the horns of the vehicles loud as our driver expertly Froggered his way through traffic.
I swore that the drivers here had some control over physics, a superhuman ability to merge into traffic without touching one another, reminding me of the way a school of fish swirled in the ocean, their forms swelling and changing shape.
The exhaust was getting to me, and after another twenty minutes or so, I was glad to be out of the city racing along a dirt road, a jungle to our left and a highway to our right.
The driver assured us that this was the fastest way to go, and once I saw all the traffic on the highway I could see that he was indeed an expert. Sitting next to him was our guide, a man with long black hair and high cheekbones named Karma.
“Tell us more about Pharping,” Ingrid said.
“There are several temples there,” Karma explained. “Maybe the most famous is the Buddhist temple near Guru Rinpoche’s cave and the Dakshina Kali temple, but there are also other temples in Pharping including the Phamting Vajrayogini and the Sheshnarayan temple. But most Hindus go there for Dakshina Kali.”
“Which god is that?”
“She’s a goddess, Shiva’s wife.” Karma reached into his pocket and got out a cellphone, cycling to an image and showing us.
“Damn,” I said as I took in the picture of a woman with blue skin and four arms, one of which held a sword, a severed head in another one of her hands. She was standing on top of a man, and seemed to be rather pleased with herself.
“Her temple is there in Pharping,” Karma said, tapping on his phone. “People make sacrifices.”
“Human sacrifices?” I asked.
He gave me a funny look. “Of course not human. Goats, chickens, and if people don’t have animals, they use melons. It is pretty bloody.”
“I can imagine,” said Dorian.
“Interesting too, for tourists. On one side of the temple, they are making all their sacrifices. On the other side, a band is playing. If you look left, you see the band, and if you look right, you see bloodied walls.”
“Why bloodied walls?” I asked.
Our driver hit a pothole, the vehicle dipping and resettling.
“It’s the way they sacrifice,” he explained. “Your goal is to spread the blood on the wall near the goddess.”
“What happens to the animals after their sacrifice?” Michelle asked, concern on her face.
“Then the families take them home and eat them.”
I nodded, a realization hitting me. “So it’s like taking an animal to the butcher, but the butcher is at a temple, and it doubles as a ritual space, right?”
Karma shrugged off my question. “It’s nothing like that, and maybe it’s something like that. I don’t know.”
“Do you believe in her?” Ingrid asked.
“I am Hindu, so of course I believe in Kali, but she is not who I worship. I worship the Lord Vishnu,” he said, and as he said it, the driver touched his prayer beads hanging from his rearview mirror, saying something under his breath.
“And he does too, right?” Ingrid asked, nodding to the driver.
“Yes. But it is okay, we have many gods here in Nepal and in India. You can choose which god you want, and sometimes the god chooses you,” he said with a chuckle.
Even though Grace was actively managing his mind, I was starting to like Karma and his personality. He seemed pretty chill, almost like a reformed stoner, sort of reminding me of some of my friends who moved to Massachusetts to get into the marijuana business.
Talk about lucrative.
“How close are we?” Michelle asked.
“Maybe another thirty minutes. It’s only twenty kilometers, but the traffic is bad, and the road condition is poor. I have an uncle in Germany, and he says they can go twenty kilometers in under ten minutes. Not like here in Nepal.”
He spoke for the rest of the trip about his childhood in Kathmandu, growing up near a part of the city called Swayambhu. It was an interesting drive, and I couldn’t help but feel magic in the air as we grew closer to the city of Pharping, a temple in the distance, roadside stands taking shape.
The small city sat before a mountain covered in trees and colorful prayer flags. It definitely had a Vermont feel to it, if the citizens of Vermont had lived in the area for thousands of years and built their temples on the side of the mountain overlooking their cities.
There didn’t seem to be very many people living there, maybe under five thousand, but there were definitely tourist shops, hotels, and other places for foreigners to stay. It made me wonder how much of Nepal’s economy was built solely on tourism, both religious and those wanting to climb Mount Everest.
“Okay, because he’s not a Hindu, we will probably check the Buddhist temple for Damon Lord,” he said, his eyes flashing white. “To get into the Hindu temples, you need to be a Hindu. So if he came here, he probably came for the Buddhism.”
“First, let’s get a base of operation,” I said. “Then Grace and I can go in dressed as tourists, or people seeking enlightenment. You get my drift. And before you worry, Veronique, we will absolutely keep this as low-key as possible. Maybe we could dress Dorian up as well, but Damon knows what she looks like.”
“No,” Grace said. “It will have to be you and me. That’s the only way this is going to work. How many temples were there?” she asked Karma, and before he could answer, Grace continued her line of thinking. “There are only two Buddhist temples and a retreat, so it shouldn’t be very hard to clear them all. Once we spot him, we get the others, strike, and then we get out of here.”
<
br /> Chapter Twenty-Four: Temple Discovery
Veronique wasn’t happy, but we seriously couldn’t bring the entire group on a tour of the Buddhist temples in the area, it would be too suspicious, and if Damon Lord was there, he would easily recognize us.
“We’ve got this,” I told her for what felt like the twentieth time.
We were in another hostel now, a two-story affair run by a Tibetan family. There wasn’t a television in this one, the CBGs forced to stew in their anticipation as Grace and I left with our tour guide, Karma.
They knew what to do, and Dorian’s Empathetic Teleportation power would bring them to us instantly if we needed backup. Besides, everything was close together in a small city, and Grace’s Telepathic Radius definitely covered the area, hell, it had covered even longer distances than this in the past.
But I got the gist of it.
When we separated, bad things happened, but it was easier to do what we were doing in a smaller unit. And even though Veronique didn’t quite see this, as the self-proclaimed leader of the Cherry Blossom Girls, the lone Cherry Blossom Boy, I knew it was necessary.
I had both of Grace’s powers on deck, Father’s healing ability and Jules’ negation power. While I wasn’t good at shifting my entire body, I’d morphed my face into a backpacker I’d seen at our hostel in Kathmandu, an older man, Grace mirroring my selection by choosing a woman hiker that looked to be around my age.
We both wore scarves, and I’d borrowed prayer beads from the Tibetan family that owned our hostel just to blend in even more. It was a good disguise, and we had already seen a pair of tourists dressed like us as we made our way up a dirt road, Karma in the lead.
Our guide was completely silent, Grace preventing him from distracting us, and as we walked, I took comfort in this silence. It gave me time to think, to observe my surroundings.
And really, what an interesting city, unlike anything I had seen before. The homes were mostly made of brick, and some of the homes had walls lining the property, shards of glass cemented onto the tops of the walls.
We passed an outdoor food stand and a woman called out to Karma, who ignored her. Grace turned her attention to the woman and the lady’s facial expression went blank, the woman returning her focus to a large pot of boiling water in front of her.
Two young monks ran out onto the street, shooting toy guns at each other, laughing.
Being from the West, and especially being from a liberal state, I had read about and watched documentaries on the plight of the Tibetan people, including VICE videos about monks, reincarnation, mystical practices and self-immolation.
But I’d never seen a monk no older than the age of six running around shooting toy guns.
This brought a smile to my face.
Boys will be boys...
Grace reached out and grabbed my hand, squeezing it, and my focus returned to our path ahead.
There was no need to mentally exchange an apology or anything of the sort. She knew me, she knew how my mind worked, and the simple act of her squeezing my hand reminded me to focus, to be ready for anything.
We came to a temple surrounded by stupas, Tibetan prayer flags connecting the temple to the tops of the trees that surrounded it, angry eyes painted on the top of the main structure. We entered a courtyard, where we found prayer wheels, Tibetan phrases carved into the walls and a small statue of a Buddha with a thousand arms surrounding his body.
We heard chants from inside the main temple.
As intrusive as it was, we would have to check. After telling Karma to stay behind so we could peek in, Grace and I made our way to the temple door.
She fired off a mental message to Dorian to prepare herself just in case. Dorian responded immediately in both of our heads, letting Grace and I know that the CBGs were ready.
There was an entrance at the back of the temple which was open, allowing people from the public to join the monks in the chants. We stepped through this entrance and took a quick look around the room.
And that’s when we saw him, his back to us. I recognize his black hair almost immediately.
It was Damon Lord.
Chapter Twenty-Five: Monk Madness
Grace’s hand fell onto my arm.
I took a seat at the back as casually as possible, getting onto my knees, matching the other foreigners who had come to hear the head monk’s sermon. Grace did the same, both of us just trying to blend in.
We’re not alone, Grace thought to me.
What do you mean?
I’m sensing something that reminds me of Remi.
Remi’s here?
We need to call the others; we do this now.
Agreed, I thought back to her.
And it was only a few seconds later that I saw a flash of purple behind me in the courtyard, the other CBGs getting into position.
Minimize casualties. I don’t want any civilians harmed, I thought to Grace.
But Grace was already focused, her eyes turning white as she locked on to the back of Damon Lord’s head and slammed him into the wooden floor.
He cried out in agony as she eviscerated his thoughts, as the monks seated before him all jumped to their feet, turned to us and…
They all looked the same.
Every one of the fifty monks had the exact same facial features: thick nose, devious eyes, all Asian men. And it dawned on me in that second what Grace meant when she said it was like Remi.
One of them is a replicator.
Grace could have finished Damon Lord in that moment had it not been for one of the monks flying forward with his fists drawn, knocking the living shit out of her, the man nearly as quick as Michelle.
It was like they were attached to pulleys, the monks jumping around the room as the CBGs entered, as the tourists tried to bail, as the head monk at the front tried to escape through the back of the temple.
I lunged for the man that had kicked Grace, and was thrown backward into the wall, hard enough that it knocked the wind out of me.
Healing myself as I stood, I sent a burst of telepathic force forward, sweeping the killer monk off his feet.
I saw more crazy shit as I bolted over to him, more monks flying through the air.
It seemed that the replicator had a second power, one that kinetically charged and sped up his attacks. The clones kept coming, and when I reached the one who had initially assaulted Grace, he filtered away into a pile of dust.
Weird.
I helped Grace to her feet, healing her.
“We have to stop Damon…” she said, her eyes scanning the fight.
It was too late. A portal had already opened up, Damon Lord dragging his ass into it.
A woman that looked like Regina stepped out, the shifter with cosmic abilities conjuring up a blast of energy that would have taken several of us out had it not been for Stella’s shield.
She’s still alive!? I shook my head, gearing up to deliver my next blow when Veronique charged the woman, reaching her hand forward and pulling apart a golden statue of a Buddha, which she used as a spear to take Regina down.
The spear tore through Regina’s body, driving her into the wooden floor, the end of the spear bending over and stabbing her in the throat.
But it wasn’t Regina.
It was another damn shifter, the woman turning into a man almost instantly and dying.
Or was it her?
How many of these bastards did Damon Lord have at his disposal? And why did they all look like Regina?
I focused on blocking another ass-kicking monk from attacking Grace and me. I caught his strike with my forearm, which hurt like a bitch, Grace tossing a telekinetic blast forward that sent the man straight into a pillar. Bae’s portal started to close.
Damon Lord hunched over, bleeding…
Bleeding?
Michelle appeared at my side, a bloodied dagger in her hand.
“I stabbed him.”
“Jesus Christ, Michelle,” I said, both hands coming to her shoulders.
“You’ve got to be careful.”
“But I got him,” she started to say.
“Yes, good, you did great, just…”
Another portal opened up, and a blast of crystal came firing out, cutting across the temple floor and taking a pillar out with it, the ceiling starting to collapse.
“Gideon!” Michelle latched on to my waist and busted out of the back door, both of us skidding to a halt in the courtyard.
“Thanks,” I told her, ignoring the channels opened up, telling me that I could take Michelle’s power.
No way.
My ears screamed as a terrible sound ripped across the airwaves, growing louder, amplifying.
The monks that had spilled out of the courtyard began to fall over, turning to dust, Chloe a spinning wheel of noise as an ear-piercing sound radiated all around her.
I kept waiting for a portal to open up, for more to arrive, Smiley, another Regina clone, whatever Damon could throw at us.
But as the sounds subsided, the only thing I was presented with was more kinetically charged monks, the courtyard a sea of saffron red, the monks a flurry of punches and kicks all kicking up dust.
Tulip burst onto the scene, grabbing and tossing monks, biting into a couple of them, pulling their bodies apart. He roared, and in that moment I felt like joining him.
I felt like doing some ass kicking myself.
“Let’s take out the monks!” I said as I ran toward Tulip. Even though he was dangerous, I neared the beast and slapped my hand on the side of his leg, Ingrid’s power coming to me, replacing Grace’s shifter ability.
“Here we fucking go…” I slipped my glasses into my side pocket, the one that still kept its shape when I took Manchester’s form. I was just about to transform when I saw a glint on my finger, Fiona’s ring, which I also took off and deposited in the pocket.
I did what I had to do to transform, focusing on the things that kept me up at night, the CBGs dying, the final scene.
I could feel my bones moving, muscles bulging, veins popping, gills forming, anger radiating through me.
Cherry Blossom Girls 8 Page 18
