by Gary Jonas
“As it happens, I don't exist,” I said.
“I don't get it.”
“Are you familiar with what people are calling the Event?”
“Which one?” he said. “They happen every few centuries when someone tries to go off their script.”
“Twentieth century. 1927.”
“The twentieth century is so scarred up from them mucking about in world wars, we all have glitches in our memories about what happened compared to what we remember.”
“Save it,” I said. “Long story short, they thought I was dead. They arranged to have me sent back in time where they killed me. They also killed me in my own time. They layered things a few too many times and I met myself. They killed both of me in 1927, but I was able to get back into my body after they left.”
“You're not immortal.”
“Correct.”
“But you still have a soul of some sort.”
“Correct again.”
“I sold my soul to be here, which is supposed to be the only other way in. So how did you get in here?”
“Talent. Kelly here was supposed to be tossed into the void, but as you can see, that didn't take. As such, we are uniquely positioned to do something about the Men of Anubis.”
“If I were you, I'd just hide. Those guys don't fuck around.”
“It seems they learned about my existence, so they're coming for me. I need something I can use to kill them.”
“If you're a remnant or an artifact or whatever, you can just hide. You're mortal. You can't fight them. Someone like Thor over there might have a shot with them because of Mjolnir. Zeus might have a shot against them. But none of them will lift a finger against them because of the Treaty.”
“Treaty?”
“The God Treaty,” Damon said. “Don't you know anything?”
“Careful,” Kelly said and tapped her blade on the table.
“The most powerful of the gods won't ever fight one another. They signed an agreement. Signed it in god blood.”
“So I need a weapon that will work for me.”
“You can't handle a weapon of the gods. You're nothing.”
“I beat you.”
“I'm not even a demigod. I bring entertainment to the clubs, so I can keep on living. If I ever fail to deliver, any of the gods in this place can kill me with a snap of their fingers.”
“God weapons tend to be forged with magic. Right?”
“Some of them.”
“So I can use them.”
“They'll destroy you, man. Burn you up.”
“You let me worry about that. Tell me what I need to face the Men of Anubis.”
“Zeus's lightning? Good luck. He'll be here later tonight trying to get laid by anything he can catch, so you can try to take his bolts. Problem is that he'll kill you without even noticing you.”
“What else?”
“Hell, I don't know. Mjolnir isn't really magic exactly. It's a living weapon and it chooses to obey those it feels are worthy. You ain't it, pal.”
“Thor won't likely want to part with it anyway.”
“You think any of the gods are going to want to part with their weapons?”
“There has to be something,” I said. “Some forgotten god? Someone who laid down their weapons and tried to leave the family business?”
He shook his head. Then he stopped and put a finger on his chin. “Wait a minute,” he said. “Are you familiar with Indra?”
“Enlighten me,” I said.
“One of the Hindu gods. There are too many of them to keep track of. Anyway, Indra had a weapon that might fit the bill. It was called Vajra. It was fashioned by Tvastar himself.”
“What is it?”
“It's a club with a ribbed spherical head.”
“So I'm supposed to club them? I was hoping for something I could use from a distance.”
“It fires lightning. The ribbing opens and can be used to stab, but you can also shoot energy bolts with it.”
“All right,” I said. “Where do I find it?”
“Indra is bound to have it with him. He went back to Mount Meru after he fucked another god's wife and paid the ultimate price for it. They call him Dickless now. Nobody's seen him in centuries.”
“Fine. Where is Mount Meru?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. It's part of the Cosmic Ocean, and the Sun and all the planets circle the mountain and it’s at the center of the known world.”
Kelly reached for his wrist, but he pulled away from her.
“I answered your questions!” he said. “Don't let her cut me again.”
“Give us a place to start looking.”
“Try the Pamirs in Tajikistan.”
I didn't know jack about Tajikistan. I knew it bordered Afghanistan due to a news report I'd seen about drug traffickers smuggling heroin wrapped in hollowed-out raisins. I knew the Pamirs were among the highest mountains in the world, and I had a vague memory of their civil war back in the nineties after the breakup of the Soviet Union. Beyond that, I was clueless.
Damon noticed that I was struggling to pull up details. “Central Asian country, which was part of the Persian Empire back in the day.”
“Borders China,” Kelly said.
“Not really looking for a geography lesson. Just want to get that weapon.”
“Book yourself a trip to Dushanbe. Hire a guide to help you find Mount Meru, which is also known as Sumeru, but it won't be called that anymore.”
“Any idea which mountain?”
“The names change a lot through the years. Find out which is the highest, and that's probably it.”
“But it's definitely in Tajikistan?”
“I'm pretty sure, but I won't guarantee it,” Damon said. “Borders change, mythology gets mixed with reality, and for all I know dogs sense exactly when people are gonna to get home.”
“Because that has so much to do with what we're talking about.”
He shrugged.
“One more question,” I said. “How do we get out of here?”
He looked at me like I was an idiot. “See that door over there with the glowing green exit sign above it? This may be hard for you to understand and all, but if you push on the door, it will swing open and you can then step through the threshold and, lo and behold, you won't be inside the club anymore. It's a difficult concept to wrap your head around, I know, but trust me. It works.”
“Should I take his hand off?” Kelly asked.
“No, he's right. I'm an idiot.”
“I could have told you that before we ever came in here,” she said.
We went to the door, and sure enough, one push and the door opened. We stepped through, and Damon was right again because we were back in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
“Whoa,” Kelly said and held up her arm. The silver bracelet shimmered then sank beneath her flesh and fused itself to her radius and ulna. “What the hell?”
I held up my wrist. The bracelet was tight, but while it shimmered for a moment, it didn't sink into my flesh. “Magic,” I said. I tried to pull it off, but it fused to itself and wouldn't budge. “Shit. Damn thing is stuck.”
Esther popped into view before me. “You were gone for a long time. Is everything berries?”
“Mostly. Where are Victor and Brenda?”
“Back at the hotel.”
“Speaking of the hotel,” I said. “I can't afford it anymore.”
“I still have some money,” Kelly said.
“Thanks.” I felt like we were getting to where we were real friends for a change. The fact that she was willing to cover the rooms warmed my heart. I smiled.
“No problem,” she said. “You can pay me back.”
And my heart cooled off again. Oh well.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Flights from Tulsa to Dushanbe are going to take multiple airlines with layovers in various locations,” I said as I looked at the itinerary online.
We were in Victor's room at a downtown hotel. Ke
lly and Brenda sat on one of the beds, while Esther stood at the door. Victor sat on the other bed. “I expected that from the moment you said Tajikistan.”
“Sure, but even if we take a 6:10 flight, you'll have to be out before the sun goes down. And that flight costs hundreds of dollars more than the 2:50 or 2:55 afternoon options. Also, thanks to Club Eternity, I'm flat broke and busted. Cheapest flight is more than seventeen hundred dollars per person.”
“We won't need to pay for the ghost,” Victor said.
“Immaterial since you can't go out in the daytime.”
“I have a solution for that.” He stood, and tossed a credit card on the desk. “Book the flights. I'll be back.” He stepped into the restroom and turned off the light as he closed the door.
“Vampires shit in the dark,” I said. “You learn something new every day.”
“Very funny,” Brenda said. “When you're done there, I want to look up Tajikistan. I've never even heard of it.”
“It's in Central Asia,” I said.
“That doesn't help me.”
“No worries. You can have the laptop in a minute.”
I booked our flights using Victor's card. We had to fly from Tulsa to Houston then we had a four hour layover before we caught a different plane from Houston to Istanbul. Another four hour layover and we'd catch yet another flight from Istanbul to Dushanbe. All told, we'd spend almost nineteen hours in the air, and another eight hours sitting around in airports.
I'd always wanted to go to Istanbul, but now that I was going, I wasn't happy about it. After all, I'd see only the airport. That sucked balls.
I handed the laptop to Brenda. She and Kelly inched closer together and Googled Tajikistan. Esther joined them.
“I want to know about it too,” she said.
“What should we wear?” Brenda asked.
“Anything that allows movement,” Kelly said. “I'll check to make sure we have all the Visas we need.”
“He's taking forever,” I said. “I'm sure glad I don't need to go. We may need to have the place fumigated if he doesn't come out of there soon.”
None of them even looked up from the computer. Tough crowd.
A few minutes later, Victor exited the restroom.
“You okay? We thought you might have fallen in.”
“Fallen in? Oh, right. I don't excrete waste matter.”
“So you were taking a power nap?”
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
“We have the tickets, so are you going to tell us how you plan to board a plane in broad daylight?”
He held up a golden ring. “This is the Ring of Aten. Well, one of them. It will allow me to walk in the daylight without getting incinerated.”
“Okay, if I were a vampire, and I had a ring like that, I'd always wear it.”
He shook his head. “No you wouldn't. There are costs to all magic, and that includes this ring.”
“What kind of costs?”
“In this case, it's extremely painful. I will feel the sun burning me, but it won't have any physical effects.”
“Maybe I wouldn't wear it,” I said.
“This is important, and I have a high pain threshold.”
“Allrighty then.” I pushed myself to my feet. “I'm heading back to my room. We have a long flight ahead of us, and I want to get some decent sleep.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dushanbe was the capital and the largest city in Tajikistan. Then again, ninety-three percent of the country was mountains, so it's not like there was much room for cities. We arrived on a Monday, which oddly enough, is what Dushanbe means. It was four in the morning, so we crashed in a hotel to catch up on sleep. Jet lag hit me and Brenda hard, though Kelly, Victor, and Esther had no issues at all. After the long-ass flight, I just wanted to sleep for a few days. Being a billionaire, I’d gotten used to private jets. Coach sucked bigger balls than I remembered.
Instead, we were up and at it by ten. Victor and I set out to hire a helicopter to take us to the Pamir Mountains. I wanted to find someone reputable at the airport, but Victor insisted on finding a local so we wouldn't attract attention. Kelly, Brenda, and Esther went out to get supplies and mountain climbing gear. The clerk at the hotel spoke a little English, but very few others spoke it at all. They spoke Tajik, and many of them also spoke Russian. Too bad I didn't have the translation earrings I'd had in Egypt. And it was too bad the clip that translated my speech to other languages was lost in the sands of time. Those sure would have come in handy.
We eventually found someone who could speak English. A twelve-year-old girl named Olima, who had her older brother with her. He didn't speak, and regarded us with curiosity more than anything. I got the impression that had she been alone, she would not have spoken to us.
Olima was cute, but had used eyeliner to draw a line between her eyebrows to give herself a unibrow. It was distracting at first, but I noticed some other women and even some of the men with the same feature. She wore a shapeless green dress adorned with a showy gold pattern that danced down the sides and edges. Olima took advantage of us on the financial front, but I didn't mind. Most of the people lived in such poverty that the money she got from us would feed her family for six months.
When we stepped out on the sidewalk, the sun blasted down on us and Victor flinched.
“You all right?” I asked.
He nodded. “I'll manage.” His voice sounded strained, and the muscles in his face kept twitching as we walked along. “When I think of my wife, it lessens the pain.” Whenever he could, he walked in shadows.
I felt sorry for the guy, but only a little. After all, he was a vampire, and my experience with vampires was much more Kolchak: the Night Stalker than any given paranormal romance novel. I confess that those books didn't make much sense to me. Why would an attractive woman want to sleep with a walking corpse? And on the flip side, why would a vampire want to sleep with his food? I love lemon meringue, but I'm not going to play American Pie with it.
Victor made only the occasional grimace. I wasn't sure what to think about him--vampire equals bad--but I was impressed with his stoicism. I just expected him to have ulterior motives here. Trust was not my strong suit. I also found myself thinking about the other Kelly Chan. What was she doing? What did she think of Victor?
And that led me right back to thinking about the Men of Anubis. Victor came out to warn me about them rather than just kill me, so he couldn't be all bad. Plus, he knew the other Kelly, and she had to be like the Kelly I had with me, so if Victor was a bad guy, she'd have lopped off his head.
Olima and her brother led us to a market a few blocks away where vendors sold fruit, nuts, meats, bread, and other foods. Many of them wore western clothing, though some wore more traditional garb. Some of the women wore hijabs. Many of the men wore kaftans.
Olima and her brother spoke to several people before leading us to a cart near the back where an older man sat selling black skull caps with white embroidery. He wore gray trousers and a collared tunic shirt with a skull cap on his head. He tugged at his silver beard as she talked. Olima spoke to him for a moment and he gave her a nod. She turned to us.
“This gentleman is named Farrukh, and he speaks English. He will help you,” Olima said. “I must get my brother back to school then return to my sewing room. If I do not finish my dresses, I do not get paid.”
I gave her a few more Tajik bills then she and her brother disappeared into the crowded market.
“What do you seek?” Farrukh asked.
“We need a helicopter. We need to get to the Moskvina Glade. We'd like to hire a guide to lead us up Ismoil Somoni Peak,” I said.
“You are two months late. The climbing tours are mostly in July and early August. If you set out now, you may run into bad weather.”
“I suspect that can happen anytime at those altitudes.”
He smiled and nodded. “Quite true. I know a man who might be willing to take you to the base camp. Just two of you?”
He did more of the smiling and nodding. “Very good. Come back at dusk. I will see if my friend will help you.”
I handed him a Tajik bill, and he made it disappear.
“Thanks,” I said.
We walked to the edge of the market and I stepped out onto the street. Victor stopped at the edge of the place and stared at the bright sidewalk lit up by the sun.
“Give me a moment,” he said.
Now I felt bad for the guy. “Maybe we should buy an umbrella.”
“That would be nice,” Victor said. “I apologize. Perhaps once I get used to the pain I can compartmentalize it.”
“Maybe that won't be necessary. You want to hang here? I can go find something to keep the sun off you.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I'll take you up on that. It only hurts where the sun strikes my flesh.”
“So, maybe I can just get you a turban.”
“Anything to keep the sun off would be quite nice.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
He walked farther back into the building, and I headed out to find something to make his daytime stroll a little less painful.
CHAPTER NINE
One section of the sidewalk was under construction, and the cement barricades funneled me toward a narrow walkway that emptied into an alley. As I passed through the narrow section, I noted four young men watching me.
I was a foreigner who didn't speak the language, walking down an unknown street all by myself, but I didn't need to speak Tajik to recognize a gang of young men intent on violence. Their mannerisms told me everything I needed to know. I didn't think I looked rich, and I had intentionally dressed down to blend in with the locals as much as possible, but my clothing did look new, so that might have been part of my problem.
It was best to avoid a confrontation, so I started to turn back, but saw two more men behind me.
“Hi, guys,” I said, to let them know I'd seen them.
They didn't speak English, but one of them pointed at my wrist and held out his hand.
