Harry stepped back and a bewildered look skittered across his face. “Sir, she is a monster, she is a sworn enemy, a witch… she has murdered and maimed…” He started to get intense as he remembered the long list of atrocities and the recent killing of Geli Raubal.
The King quietly interrupted him, “Yes, she has, Harry.”
Harry winced and a pained expression broke loose. “Are you going to… just shrug that off? How can I stop her if I have to worry about hurting her?” He realized who he was talking to and stopped the rant that threatened to burst forth.
“I do not enjoy the suffering of creation; I do not willingly allow it or use it. I suffer what I hate to ensure what I love. For her kind, she has some remarkable redeeming qualities that even she does not realize, and were you able to turn her into the main current of the spring… many would be helped.”
Harry stared at the ground, frowned, and then looked back up to the King. “How?”
The King put his hand on Harry’s shoulder, looked him in the eye, and said, “Unveiled faces, Harry.”
Harry stared back. “What?”
“It’s time for you to go now… we will meet again… many times actually, and when you come again, bring Sarah with you.”
Harry shook his head and started to turn and walk back on the forest path, but the King stopped him. “Take the short cut, Harry.”
“Huh?”
With a laugh, the King pushed him into the spring.
Chapter Fifteen
Lizzy barely remembered how she managed to get in her car and drive home. She did remember muddling through the rest of her time with the children. She didn’t get any further into the story. The kids had snacked all afternoon and she was extremely grateful she had a helper mom to distract them for her. Finally, the last child was tucked away in its parents’ care and she drove home.
She did finally realize that if she didn’t want to spend the night in her car staring down the driveway at her garage, she was going to have to open the door and get out of her car. She blinked, pushing the confusion and worry and clamor of thoughts that threatened to smother her back into her overcrowded mind, and opened the door and got out. She walked up the steps to the back door and started to unlock it, but it was already unlocked. Had she been a little more focused she would have remembered that she had locked it before she had left that morning. She entered the dark house and automatically reached for the light switch, then stopped. Instead she turned and walked into her bedroom, flipped the light switch on, and fell into her bed. She moved one foot to push off a shoe, then the other, and heard them fall onto the floor. Then she put her head into her pillow and cried.
She slowed her fears down from an undammed flood of racing anxiety to a simple whitewater stream. “What happened? How did I do that? Easton could have died! Did I do that? I couldn’t have done that. Oh dear God, what is going on, have mercy!” Compelled by a habit she had developed over the last few weeks, she picked up her dad’s yellowed spiral notebook. As she drew it toward her, a small sheet fell out. She had not noticed it before and quickly grabbed it. She gasped as she saw the heading… It was a note to her.
Dear Lizzy,
In my time it has been a little over a year since I last saw you. I have thought about you and prayed for you daily. Roo, I miss you. I have no idea if this letter will ever reach you. But something tells me I need to write it, and that something is usually right. It is not the speaker sword that is compelling me, it is something deeper. At any rate, I am obeying that inclination and putting pen to paper. And since I mentioned the speaker sword, let me elaborate on that a moment. Since your bloodletting, LOL… Ha. LOL is an acrostic almost a century premature but nonetheless, it is written. Since my attempt to introduce you to the speaker and the strange failure, I have been trying to understand why. Some interesting facts have been discovered. They are beyond interesting! When I was made aware of them, I was overwhelmed. Bottom line, Roo, is… hmmm, how do I explain this… well, all my life and yours I thought you were some wonderful gift bound as a little waif and placed on the doorstep of a friend that wound up in my care. I grew to love you and adopted you. Lizzy, what I discovered thanks to the speaker’s amazing research ability, including DNA, is that you are not only my adopted daughter, you are my biological daughter as well!
Lizzy gasped as she read the last sentence, rubbed her tired eyes, and read it again…
Yes, Lizzy, you read it right. And before you start with a thousand questions and a possible accusation or two aimed my way, let me say, write, whatever, this... I was more surprised than you! Or at least as surprised as you.
I promise you, honey, had I known I would never have left you anywhere, you or your mother; hopefully, you believe me. But the truth is, Lizzy, I would have to have had a physical relationship with a woman to conceive a child, and I have no recollection of that… none at all. And before you think I must have been drunk or drugged, let me add, the speaker did a painstakingly thorough search of my memories and he found no evidence of such an engagement either. But I need also to say this… and you only think you have read something wild so far. It gets worse.
“Oh Lord have mercy…” Lizzy whispered as she read the sentence. “How can it be any worse?”
Lizzy, the speaker sword tells me, and I have no reason to doubt him, that your mother was/is one of my most formidable foes. How can that be…? I know at this time I have only fought her once. But obviously, something must have or will have, argh… happen/ed. I am as confused—no, I am more confused than you are. I promise you that. I do not know what to do. I love you and cannot imagine a world without you in it. You are loved and wanted and I would not have changed a thing about the way I raised you. Well, maybe a little… ballet instead of softball, waterskiing more… shooting range less, anyway. Lizzy, you are asking yourself a hundred questions and I guess the first is who is your mother… is she still alive? If the speaker is correct, your mother is/was a very powerful… oh Lord God, I hate to write this… witch. Lizzy. Your mom is a witch. I mean a real one… a certifiable supernatural with bloodlines to prove it… Witch. And how I got or get mixed up with her is beyond me. Next question you are asking is what does Sarah think about all this… well ahh… she didn’t take it well at first. Or at second for that matter… but she forgave me. Even though I didn’t ask… because I hadn’t done anything or plan to do anything. Sarah is far, far away now. I can’t communicate with her except through a speaker-like email system… I miss her, Roo.
I don’t even know if you will ever read these words. Perhaps one day after I am long gone this note will reach you and explain some things. Perhaps I will see you before it does. I hope so…
I love you, Roo.
Dad
Lizzy was stunned. She reread the letter twice, picking each word apart for all she could squeeze from it. She had a hundred questions and none of them could be answered. As she read the letter through for the third time, her eyes stopped on the words supernatural, certifiable, bloodlines. Then it hit her… if a witch’s abilities were not the result of a horrible covenant with a demon but the result of DNA, then that might explain—no, it had to explain—what happened today at the library. But why did it happen today and not years before? She pondered such a mystery, but before her tired brain could answer her questions, she drifted off to sleep, unaware of the brooding figure lurking in her room.
Chapter Sixteen
Belle Rodum crept through the moonless forest that surrounded her target’s home. The sky flashed constantly as though angry, thunder pummeled hard against her ears, the wind whistled as the huge thunderstorm bent the treetops. Had Belle known in just a few short years manmade thunder would break these same skies and burn these forests, it would have pleased her. War, terror, death were tools of her trade. As she slipped through the dark shadows of the night, she thought about how things in Hitler’s life had started to settle down and was actually feeling proud of how she had manipulated the circumstances to ensure
the man got and maintained supreme authority, especially the authority to delegate any decision the Wehrmacht’s wiser and battle-experienced generals might make.
Belle’s master plan as dictated by her family elders was to keep Hitler from making egocentric decisions that led to military disasters. In order to accomplish that, she had to become the most influential person in his life. Specifically, his wife or mistress who could keep him focused. In order for that to happen, she had to get rid of the competition. So even though his political progress was steady, his future was nothing but. Hitler didn’t help matters by his flirtatious manner, so the task kept Belle Rodum busy.
The latest problem was an actress, Renate Müller, beautiful, talented, intelligent, far more than the little hussy of a niece that Belle had to deal with a few months earlier. Hitler fluttered around beautiful women like a hummingbird. But he was never emotionally transparent with them. He also never realized how much influence they had on him. Their compliments and hero worship inflamed his ego and deluded his genius. He had begun to see himself as a modern-day Napoleon. Belle Rodum had no such illusions, but she had to pretend to. Lying was easy enough, but competing with actresses and the constant flow of hero worshippers was tedious.
She often found herself thinking about the adversary who had—she hated the term but knew it applied— “manhandled” her. A man who had defeated her one on one. Unthinkable, inexcusable! He had actually toyed with her and had the audacity to slap her! She rubbed her cheek as she went over the incident for the hundredth time… she continually excused her failure by reminding herself that the man had also defeated the jörmungandr, but had the jörmungandr not intervened, allowing her to complete her mission… who knows what would have happened? What kind of man was this Harry? Her imagination spun a flimsy web of Harry with a score of beauties. Her lip curled as her imagination searched for a reason to despise him. Then it betrayed her as she remembered his courtesy and restraint. A man who could do that in battle was not going to be undisciplined in other areas.
No, Harry was a one-woman man. Hmmp, she sneered, typical gentleman. Had she been close to a mirror she might have been surprised that the slight smile she wore reflected a different perspective than the words her mind required her to think.
She had no idea how he had discovered the location and time of her last attack, so she had taken greater measures this night to prevent any surprises. Rodum was a witch, and she used those inherited and enhanced powers to draw occult forces to her aid. Those spells always came at a price. Most of the time she was not the one to pay it. Sacrifices were made to appease and bind the demons and their associates to the task Belle had for them. The storm that hid her dark foray was the work of a weather demon she had summoned. The rübezahl, demon lord of lightning and thunder, rain and snow.
She sensed his presence soon after her incantations had ceased. A fog crawled up from the flames that licked at the charred body of the animal Belle had sacrificed. When it finally solidified, a cowled figure stood in a grey frock holding a storm harp in his hand. His presence was so dense that when he moved, the earth beneath his feet seemed to sigh. Belle was afraid of him but knew she could not manifest that fear, so her words were harsh and clipped. “You are bound to me tonight, grim god of storm. You will hide me in your mists and your thunder will shield my actions. There is another who will accompany us, and you will protect it also.”
Belle’s admonition to protect another was an attempt to hedge her bets. Some creatures that frequented the dark haunts of the earth were not on good terms. The other creature she had procured for the night’s work and as an added protection against the goodie-two-shoes that had tried to intervene last time was a draugr, one of the undead. A warrior cursed because of his bloodlust, and now given over to it, incredibly strong. And if those traits were not enough, the draugr could torment its victims by invading their dreams. Between her own powers, the storm demon, and the draugr, Belle Rodum was confident that she could handle Harry. So she focused on drawing near the mansion where the famous actress, Hitler’s newest love Renate Müller, was peacefully sleeping.
Chapter Seventeen
Harry tumbled into the cold spring water and plunged downward, pulled into its depths. He was surprised he felt no fear. The King must have pushed him into the stream because it was a portal, a time stream. As he fell he was not conscious of holding his breath. His attention was captured by the images that began to pop up all around him like bubbles from a child’s bubble pipe. He saw people of all ages, dressed in costumes of the time; he even saw some battles, and in one he noticed what appeared to be Roman soldiers battling a dragon. He would have stopped to study that image more but was swept along in a current he could not swim against. In a few moments, his head broke the top of the water. He did not gasp for air and was surprised as he climbed out onto the bank that he wasn’t even wet. Raleigh the great white German shepherd saw him clamoring up on the shore and ran to meet him.
“Good man go for swim, smart idea… but not in that water… that picture water… not smell earthy… get clean and cold if swim in that water.”
Harry laughed and answered, “You are right, Raleigh, but it wasn’t my idea to swim there. What are you doing here?”
John Timothy walked up while Harry was rubbing the great dog’s head. Harry acknowledged him and said, “Well, I am not surprised that you are here to greet me. Are we back at my home in the US or are we in England during the thirties?”
“You’re actually in a place called the Big Thicket. It’s a secluded forest in East Texas. I want you to meet a friend of mine and Raleigh’s.”
Harry was pretty sure he had seen everything and was beyond being shocked or startled. He was wrong. He turned to see where John Timothy was pointing. Standing right behind him out of his peripheral sight was a giant Sasquatch. Harry’s fight or flight mechanism kicked in and made him jump away from the creature, stumbling over Raleigh and causing the great dog to yelp. John Timothy was bent over laughing and Harry could see the great doggy smile on Raleigh’s face. Raleigh moved toward the huge hairy beast and gently butted his knees. The Sasquatch rubbed the tender place behind the ears of the large dog.
Harry could hear Raleigh whimpering in pleasure, saying, “Raleigh missed big hairy man… go run and play with Raleigh? Tear up trees and fetch?”
As Harry regained his composure, he was surprised to see the giant hairy man blushing. His head was down and his hands raised in defense.
“I am very sorry to have startled you,” a voice like a loaded gravel truck whispered.
Stepping back and squeezing his eyes shut, Harry caught the beast’s tone and also slipped into an apologetic temper. “I—I ah… it’s okay, it’s really okay. I just…”
“Didn’t expect to see an eight-foot Sasquatch behind you?” John Timothy volunteered.
Harry looked back at John Timothy. “Not really.”
“Well, now you have. Harry Ferguson, I want to introduce you to Brady Huslu. He is a full-blooded Sasquatch. Of the First River Watchers.”
“Brady?” Harry asked.
“From my mother’s side of the family,” the huge creature explained.
Harry nodded like he understood, but he had no idea.
The speaker sword interrupted Harry’s puzzled thought, “Harry, Brady is a man. A very large man for sure, he is also prophetic and moves in some very powerful gifts. His family has lived in the Arkansas mountains for thousands of years and was isolated for generations. They intermarried with the first peoples. His DNA had a great deal more Neanderthal than yours, but he is very much a man.”
“Okay, okay,” Harry stammered, getting used to staring at an eight-foot-tall apelike man. “It’s good to meet you… ah, why am I meeting you?” He turned his head from Brady back to John Timothy.
Speaker Sword answered Harry’s question. “Harry, you are going to need help. The witch assassin you tangled with has recruited some help. We are not sure how many or what kind, but we are cer
tain she has called up some very bad associates to aid her in her crimes. So if she has, then you must also.”
“Well, isn’t that what Sarah is supposed to do? Isn’t that what you told us? It has been several months now and she should have been through with her training…”
“Harry, it is my understanding that Sarah has been asked to assist the trainer and his people against an invasion of their kingdom. It was unforeseen and has set back a lot of things…” John Timothy added, interrupting the sword.
“Unforeseen?! Did you say unforeseen? How can anything… be unforeseen if it’s all happened before? I’m confused—how can an organization tasked with correcting twisted time events not foresee anything?”
Brady shuffled toward Harry and stretched out his large furry hand. Harry started to back up but sensed that Brady was attempting to comfort him and also trying to communicate at a very different level, so Harry braced himself and allowed the giant man to touch him. Brady gently laid his hand on Harry’s shoulder. Immediately the huge man’s thoughts began to enter Harry’s mind. “Harry, you do not remember me, but we have shared many adventures and you are one of my most faithful friends. Right now I am not allowing the speaker or John Timothy to listen to our conversation. So be at peace. Some things are going on in time streams that have never happened, so the dragon riders cannot see what will happen. There is a full-scale attack on many fronts in many time streams. Your Sarah is being tested, as are you. There have been times when she has failed. There has never been a time when you have. But your response to Sarah has been… how do I say this? Not as gracious and steadfast as it should have been. The sword is trying to protect you and Sarah, but his agenda, as is John Timothy’s, is the protection of the time streams, above all else… including you or Sarah. Do you understand me, Harry?”
The Harry Ferguson Chronicles Box Set Page 33
