The Adventures of Lazarus Gray
Page 11
Morgan ran his hands down the mummy’s slim hips and patted her down like he was a cop checking for weapons. He moved the body and examined the wall behind her as well. There was absolutely nothing unusual about her.
"I don’t see any signs that anyone’s playing any kind of joke on you, Mrs. Mitchell. This here is your ordinary kind of mummy."
"You have a good sense of humor. I like that in a man."
Morgan cleared his throat again, wondering when the others would be arriving. He was about to suggest that they step out into the garden and finish their wine in the sunlight when a prick on the back of his neck caught his attention. His hand flew up and slapped against the skin. He’d thought it was an insect biting him but his palm came against something small and sharp. He yanked it out and stared at in growing horror. It was a tiny blow dart with some kind of amber-colored fluid dripping from the tip.
He whirled about to look at the window, which was open slightly to let in a breeze. A swarthy man’s face was there, the blowgun raised to his lips for another attack. Around the man’s eyes was thick mascara, making his eyes seem like white orbs in a field of black. "Lorraine!" he hissed but it was too late. His head was swimming so much that he toppled over to the floor, even as the man shot a second dart at Lorraine. She gasped in alarm, the wine glass falling from slack fingers to stain the carpet.
***
Lazarus Gray stared at the corpse of David Mitchell. He wore a small gauze mask over his mouth and nose but it did virtually nothing to help with the smell. Decomposition was a natural thing but its effects on the human body were not pretty.
Hovering nearby was the city’s coroner, a grossly fat man named Sheedy. Sheedy was munching on a cruller doughnut, not disturbed in the least by the grisly scene before him. Death was part of his every day existence and in the crime-riddled streets of Sovereign, he frequently saw things that would churn the stomach of lesser men. "So what are you looking for?" he asked, bits of cake falling down onto the front of his bloodstained shirt. He looked more like a butcher than a man of medicine and law.
"Mr. Mitchell’s death is under my personal investigation. I merely wish to verify your earlier diagnosis as to the cause of death."
"Heart attack." Sheedy shoved the rest of the cruller into his mouth and proceeded to lick his fingers clean. "No signs of foul play. Tested him for poison in case that wife of his wanted to do him in. Nothing showed up."
Gray said nothing. He would have preferred to study the body alone but that would have required paying off Sheedy. Gray had plenty of money but he had no desire to line the man’s pockets any further.
Mitchell had been, to the naked eye, in fine health. Tests showed that he was in the early stages of at least two different sexually transmitted diseases, however, and Gray was fairly confident that he had not acquired them during relations with his wife. He tilted the head to the side and noticed something on the dead man’s neck. It looked like a hematoma of some kind, circular in shape with a number of red spots in the center. It had faded some as the blood had settled but the remnants were still there, indicating that it had been fresh at the time of death.
Sheedy leaned over the body, dropping crumbs onto the dead man’s suit. "Yeah, I saw that, too. Looks like he and the wife had gotten frisky a little bit. It’s a love bite."
Gray stared at it. The mark had other names, as well. In America, it was often referred to as a hickey. In India, it was dubbed a Kamasutra bite. Gray was certain that Lorraine would deny that she had left this mark on her husband. Despite what she’d said about trying for children, it was apparent to Gray that she and her husband were estranged. She had the air about her of a long-suffering woman who was far more upset about the mummy’s actions than she was over the recent death of her lover. So who had done this to him? Surely he hadn’t found the time to meet with a mistress right before his heart attack… but the only other woman in the house besides Lorraine was Femi.
Gray suddenly had a clear image of Mitchell unwrapping the lower portion of Femi’s face and running his hand over her dried skin. He’d leaned in, possibly even kissed her, and then placed his cheek against hers in a morbid parody of a lover’s embrace. Imagine his horror when the mummy screamed and then closed her lips around his throat, sucking so hard that she ruptured the cells beneath the skin. He’d panicked and died, falling to the floor where Lorraine would later find him.
It was all conjecture, of course, but Gray felt certain now that Lorraine was telling the truth. Femi was alive, in some blasphemous manner. He stepped back, whipped off his mask and gloves, tossing both to Sheedy. "Thank you, Doctor. This has been most enlightening."
He stepped outside and found Samantha waiting for him. She looked so worried that he immediately sensed something was wrong. "What is it?" he asked.
"I made the call and got a lot more information. I went straight to the Mitchell place to warn Morgan and I found that they were gone: all three of them. And I don’t think they left on their own."
Gray’s mismatched eyes sparked with anger. He knew who the ‘three’ were: Morgan, Lorraine Mitchell, and Princess Femi. "We’ll rendezvous with Eun at headquarters," he said.
"And then what are we going to do?"
Lazarus thought there was a surprising amount of concern in Samantha’s voice, more than usual in these kinds of situations. Was it because Morgan was among the missing? "Then we will rescue our friend and client… and destroy the abomination that is Femi!"
Chapter III
The Undying
Morgan woke up with one of the worst headaches of his life. He blinked through blurry vision, trying to figure out where he was and as things slowly came into view, he realized that he was in a lot of trouble.
He was in a poorly lit room whose walls were composed of gray brick. Torches were mounted on brackets here and there, casting the room in flickering light. In the center of the room lay twin altars. Upon the first lay the cloth-wrapped body of Princess Femi. On the second lay the nude form of Lorraine Mitchell. She was bound hand and foot, stretched out as far as her body could stand. Morgan could see blood welling up around her bonds, which were cruelly tight. She writhed as much as she could, tears streaming down her face and terror mounting in her eyes.
Morgan himself was standing up against the wall, his arms raised over his head. His wrists were shackled together just below the ceiling and as he tested the strength of his bonds, he realized that he would never break through.
In the room with him and Lorraine were five men, all dressed in black robes with hoods. Around each of their necks was a large golden ankh necklace. Two of the men were laying out a set of ceremonial knives, placing them beside Femi on the altar. Two more stood guard at the single door that led into the room, keeping close eyes on the activities in front of them. The fifth man approached Morgan when it became clear that he was awake. The man reached up and drew back his hood, revealing a thin face and a hooked, hawkish nose. The man was obviously Egyptian from the coloring of his skin and the accented English he spoke.
"You’ve decided to join us at last, have you? Good. I am Achmed. And you are?"
"Going to knock your teeth out if you don’t let me go."
Achmed laughed, displaying a set of yellowed teeth. "American bravado. It’s always entertaining." The man’s smile vanished quickly and he drove a painful punch into Morgan’s midsection, making him cry out. "Now I will ask you again: what is your name?"
"Morgan Watts. I’m a member of Assistance Unlimited and if you know anything about this town, you’ll realize what a terrible mistake you’ve made."
Achmed’s expression did change a bit at the name of Morgan’s employers. He covered it up quickly, however, turning back toward the struggling form of Lorraine Mitchell. "By the time Lazarus Gray could find this place, we will be long gone. And our Princess shall live again."
"You’re madmen! All of you!" Lorraine spat out. "Let me go and I can pay you! I have enough money to make you all rich men!"
"And what’s that?" Morgan asked. He had an awful feeling that nothing good was going to come of that knife and Lorraine’s current position so if he could keep the man talking, that meant more time for Lazarus and the others to save the day.
"We are known as The Undying," Achmed answered, slowly running the point of the blade between Lorraine’s breasts. The dagger’s point was so sharp that its progress left a thin red line in its wake. "For centuries, we have pursued our beautiful Femi, always waiting for the proper time. She fell in with our cult during the final days of her life, renouncing the old gods. For her sins, she was put to death and strange spells put upon her. Some say the gods did these but we know better – it was the priesthood who put her into these undying slumbers, so that they could make an example of her. They feared that if the common man lost their faith, they would lose their power. And they were right. For her sacrifice, The Undying swore to do whatever it could to revive her. We have tracked her from owner to owner, always hoping to steal her away so that she could be revived. After all the failures of my predecessors, I shall at least succeed. Tonight, she awakens!"
Achmed turned to the men at the door, gesturing for them to open the aperture. They pushed the heavy doors until they slid noisily across the floor, scraping the stone. A chill wind blew in, carrying with it the salty stench of the harbor. Morgan knew where they were, now: they were in one of the storage bays located near the pier. There were dozens of them, each rented out to one or more of the ships that made stops in the harbor.
The Egyptians all gathered around the bodies of the two women, one living and the other trapped in an awful state of un-life. They began to chant and Achmed looked over with shining eyes at Morgan. For some reason, they wanted Morgan alive, so he could watch, but as to why that was, Morgan didn’t have a clue.
Achmed raised his dagger high and brought it down with incredible suddenness, piercing Lorraine’s heart and silencing her screams of terror. Blood sprayed into the air, splattering wetly on the Egyptian’s face. He looked mad as he began tearing and rending at the poor girl’s chest, not stopping until he’d carved out her heart. He raised the still beating organ into the air over Femi’s cloth-covered body. He squeezed, reducing the heart to a bloody pulp, bits of which fell all over Femi’s body.
Morgan felt his stomach lurch and anger blazed inside his chest. He’d seen murder before but rarely had it been done so callously and in such a cowardly fashion.
As the blood soaked through the rags and into Femi’s dried skin, a startling transformation began to occur. Her breasts became fuller, her hair took on a lustrous quality and her skin returned to the pallor and shape of life. She sat up, tearing the bandages from her eyes and as she looked about her, the expression on her face was one of mixed emotions. She seemed elated and yet horrified, as if she was all too aware of how unholy her existence now was. She looked straight at Morgan and opened her full lips. "God is dead!" she hissed and the words carried with them such malice that Morgan winced. This was a woman who despised the religion that had surrounded her in life and which had trapped her for eternity in this horrid state.
"Princess! You have returned to us!" Achmed squealed. She turned quickly, regarding him with suspicion. When she answered him, it was in an ancient dialect that Morgan couldn’t understand. He watched as Achmed and Femi conversed for several seconds and his blood froze as Femi slid from the altar, taking several steps toward him. Achmed switched back to English so Morgan could know what was about to happen. "Femi lives and breathes but she still retains the dark hungers that have been set upon her. She requires nourishment, Mr. Watts. And you, sir, are going to be her celebratory meal!"
Morgan recoiled in horror as Femi opened her mouth to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth. The resurrected Egyptian princess lunged for him, wrapping her arms around his torso. Her tongue slithered like a snake across his throat and Morgan realized that he was about to die.
***
Miya Shimada was a Japanese-American and her beauty was the perfect mixture of the two races that made up her ethnic background: the slim features of the Japanese melded with the hips and breasts of a Western woman. Her jet-black hair fell in straight lines around her perfectly sculpted face and she wore a form-fitting black skirt and blouse, along with a small hat and veil. She looked like someone headed to a funeral but the cruel smile on her ruby red lips also made her look like the proverbial black widow, seeking fresh prey.
She stood in front of the shuttered windows of Benson Drugs, a pharmacy that had closed down in the days immediately following the great Stock Market Crash of ’29. Now, the entire block was empty, save for the old hotel building across the street. It was now used as the headquarters of Assistance Unlimited, housing Lazarus Gray and his aides.
Miya stepped back into the shadows as Lazarus emerged from the building, followed closely by Samantha and Eun. The three of them moved with grim determination and Miya wondered what mission they were on. She found so much about Lazarus Gray fascinating and she yearned to know why he was doing these things.
Once, in another life, she and the man who now called himself Gray had been lovers. But that had been before he’d woken up here in Sovereign City, his past nothing more than tattered images and sounds.
Samantha slid quickly into the backseat of Gray’s waiting car, while Eun took the passenger seat in the front. Gray was about to duck behind the wheel when Miya stepped into view. "Lazarus Gray?" she asked, raising her voice loud enough that he couldn’t miss hearing her.
Lazarus paused and his mask of stoicism slipped. For a brief second, he looked like a confused and somewhat lost man. And then his resolve returned and he was once more the composed figure that had become so feared throughout the underworld. He turned his head to regard her, his heart hammering in his chest. Something about her voice was painfully familiar and he suddenly longed to feel her touch on his bare chest. "Yes?’ he asked, valiantly maintaining his composure.
"It is you, isn’t it?" Miya moved toward him, lifting the veil from her face. As soon as he saw her face, Lazarus gasped. Images flooded into his mind’s eye, of her nude in his bed, of the two of them arguing horribly. He heard the word ‘monster’ very clearly but he couldn’t be sure which of them had said it. "Do you remember me?" she asked, watching his reaction very closely.
Gray glanced back into his car, where both Eun and Samantha were waiting. He shut the door and gave a brief nod. "I think so, yes. But things aren’t as clear as they should be. Can you tell me your name?"
Miya ran to him, wrapping her arms about his neck and hugging him so tightly that Lazarus thought he might choke. "I’ve missed you so much! I don’t care what’s happened to you, we’re together again!"
Gray peeled her off of him and held her at arm’s length, seeing the tears in her eyes. "Your name. Please."
"Miya." She reached out and touched his face. "You have no idea how long I’ve searched for you. Why aren’t you using your real name?"
A muscle twitched in Gray’s left cheek, a sign of his anticipation. "Miya," he said slowly, "can you tell me what my name is?"
"Of course I can! I can tell you everything."
"Chief?" Samantha was leaning her head out of the car window, her gaze flicking back and forth from Lazarus and this stranger woman. "Morgan needs us."
"Don’t go," Miya pleaded. "Stay with me and I’ll answer all your questions."
Though it only took the briefest of seconds, Samantha saw how much effort Lazarus had to exert to step away from Miya. "I can’t. I have responsibilities. Where can I reach you?"
Miya let her veil fall back over her eyes. "I’ll be in touch, my love. Hurry back."
Lazarus turned without saying farewell. He ignored the pointed stares of his aides, driving off as quickly as possible.
As Gray’s vehicle rounded the corner, Miya’s emoti
onal display came to an abrupt end. She adopted a cruel smile and quickly walked toward an alleyway that led to an adjoining street. Her partner in this affair, Walther Lunt, was waiting for her in a parked car. He had told her that Gray wouldn’t fall for this, that he wouldn’t come with her into so obvious a trap. Miya had disagreed, thinking that whatever lingering feelings Lazarus might possess for her – coupled with his desire to know the truth about himself – would propel him into her arms.
Next time, she mused, she would know better. Lazarus Gray was deeply entrenched in Sovereign City, with men and women he considered to be family. That would make her task a bit more difficult but not impossible.
Lazarus Gray would be hers again, one way or another.
***
"Chief? Who was that woman?" Eun broached the subject that Samantha couldn’t bring herself to. The three of them had sat in silence for nearly five minutes, as Gray had skillfully navigated the crowded Sovereign streets. A slight drizzle was falling, making the pavement slick and deadly, especially at the speeds that Gray was approaching. But neither Eun nor Samantha was worried: they knew their employer was as skilled a driver as anyone in the world.
"A woman from my past. That’s virtually all I can tell you. I recognized her immediately but the images that passed through my head weren’t clear at all."
From the backseat, Samantha’s voice sounded distant. "Was she your lover?"
"I believe so. But I’m not certain we were together when the end came."
Both Samantha and Eun knew what he meant. Something had left him unconscious on the shores of Sovereign, battered to the point of amnesia. He’d had only one thing in his possession that offered any clue as to who he was: a medallion upon which the image of a man with a lion’s head was engraved with the words Lazarus Gray beside it. He’d adopted the name as his own in the hopes that it would lure into the open anyone who might know him. This was a dangerous gambit, since the first person he met after arriving in Sovereign City tried to kill him. So far, Lazarus had crossed paths with two people who knew him from before: a German named Walther Lunt, who had somehow managed to cheat death, and now this Miya woman.