He sent a message to his minions to search for the green stone. This time they did his bidding. The stone sat on a gold-velvet cushion on the bedside table. Once found, the snakes felt their obligation to him finished and turned fascinated eyes to the swinging testicles and the huge cock.
He ordered them to watch the stone and got icy emptiness. Snakes! The two on the bed rutted until the man screamed suddenly and Marie cackled like the witch she was. The snakes shot to attention and Priest watched with horror as the man pulled away from Marie and leaped to his feet as his penis began to shrivel. It slowly turned darker and darker and began to smoke. When the poor man tried to scream, no sound came out. It was as though his lips were glued together. Marie, in all her naked glory, stood on the bed and waved her hands. In her right hand she held the stone.
“There, my beautiful one,” she said, apparently to the stone. “Turn his pride and joy to a cinder, bind him to me, make him my slave.”
The big man fell to the floor drumming his heels and writhing in agony. Smoke rose from under his big hands where they clutched his crotch. The woman jumped off the bed and hovered over him. She held the green stone above his smoldering pubic region, tossed a handful of gray powder across his body and chanted with her eyes closed. The big man stopped struggling and lay still. His hands fell to his sides and Priest gasped. The sight of the man’s genitals was so awful, he almost turned away. Even the testicles that had swung so invitingly moments before were shriveled into black prunes.
She squatted above him. “Sleep, Emile, soon you will be my servant for all eternity. A servant like you is very hard to find.” She slapped his huge biceps. “A big dick one can find anywhere. You are very strong. You will serve us well. When the moon is full, I will take you into the swamp and perform the ritual to turn you into my zombie. Oh yes, my pretty,” she stroked the stone. “You will be there as well.”
* * * *
Bryn shook her head. “No, Quinn, it’s too dangerous. You don’t know this man like I do.”
“Hopefully, I shall not meet him. Really, Bryn, you worry unnecessarily. I merely wish find his hole, his nest, where he goes after he kills. If I discover this place, I will back away and return with Tomlinson and some of his nefarious inventions. Together we will capture the killer and bring him to justice.”
“You dream,” Bryn said. “Draak Priest is old. He has dark power. His master is a black dragon he discovered in the Carpathian Mountains. He rules snakes and reptiles, can read minds and has perverted desires. He can change his appearance at will and I’ve been told he can transform into a dragon much as I can change into a crow.”
Quinn’s eyes flew open. “You can turn into a crow?”
“Yes, I have done this thing before.”
“Have you seen this Priest guy change into a dragon? I didn’t even know such a creature existed.”
Bryn sighed. “You are so thick headed. Yes, there are dragons. There are witches, demons from Hell, vampires and all manner of creatures you have no doubt never seen. Just because you’ve never seen a thing makes it no less real. Have you ever seen a rhinoceros?”
He laughed and shook his head.
“They do exist, I assure you,” she said.
“Okay, Draak Priest is a very dangerous man. I understand this, but I must still try to find him and bring him before the law.” Quinn understood Bryn was concerned for his safety, but he was a grown man and could well take care of himself.
He clapped his bowler hat onto his head and bent to kiss her. “Keep an eye on that sister of yours. The killer might strike again this night. The moon is at half and there will be a killing light out.”
“Killing light?”
“Yes, enough light from the moon to see your victim, not enough to be seen well. A perfect night for murder.”
She grabbed his arm as he turned to go. “Don’t go, Quinn. I would not have you risk your life.”
He patted her arm. “This is what I do, my darling. I came to New Orleans to find the Stuart Sapphire. I found it. By chance the Soho killer followed you here. Now I must concentrate on bringing him to justice. I believe he is here and if he is, he’s mine.”
When Quinn was gone, Bryn went looking for Fenix. She found her sister resting on her big canopied bed. “Where did you go, Fenix? I was worried sick.”
Fenix leaned forward and Bryn plumped the pillows behind her head. “I told you, I went looking for a minion to find the stone and bring it to me.”
Bryn sat on the edge of the bed and took her sister’s hand into her own. “Fenix, you are at the weakest part of your cycle. We are immortal, but you may be grievously harmed. If you were to be hurt in these last months, it might precipitate the change and you would die away from me and be reborn a naked babe where I could not find you. If you care nothing for yourself, think about me. What would I do if I knew you were an infant lost to me forever?”
Fenix’s perfect lower lip thrust forward in a pout. “You don’t want me to have any fun.” She sat up her golden eyes flashing. “I need to be involved in my future. You can’t keep treating me like I’m five. I’m a grown woman with needs as strong as yours even though I may only be twenty-nine.”
When Bryn sighed with frustration and rubbed her eyes, Fenix fell back against the pillows. “I see it is useless for me to try to reason with you. You persist in seeing me as a child in your care.”
“I’ve been your mother through hundreds of your rebirths. Do you blame me if I worry? I’ve found wet nurses for you, watched you suckle, diapered you and helped you take your first steps over and over again.” Bryn rose and stared down at her sister through eyes filled with tears. “You are the only living person I am allowed to love and I love you more than my life. Don’t take that love and treat it with disrespect. I am not just your sister. I am a mother to you and you are my child. Soon I will watch you burst into flames, turn into a golden bird and die. I will pull a baby with red hair from those flames and that will be you. Have a care, Fenix. If I am not there when you are reborn, what will happen to you…to us?”
Fenix turned her gilded head away and stared at the far wall. “I’m tired of being told to be careful. You’ve seen this rebirth. You’ve seen me die, while I remember nothing. It’s hard for me to feel concern for an event I can scarcely believe happens. You say I will die, but to me, there are only the endless days of waiting. I want to have some fun. ”
Bryn nodded. “I see your point, but you must also see mine.”
Fenix threw her feet off the bed. “I do, dear sister, but inside me grows this insane need to participate in the unfolding events. Allow me this. Let me help you help me. Promise me you won’t exclude me, Bryn.” She stood up and grabbed Bryn’s hands. “Promise.”
Tears clogged Bryn’s throat as pain filled her heart. “I will try. Protecting you has been my main focus for many centuries. It is not a thing easily given up.”
She embraced her sister feeling the heat burning inside her that would eventually, and all too soon, burst into real flames. “Now rest. You must be very tired after exerting yourself.”
Fenix lay back on the bed. “Yes, my exertions.” She smiled. “He was a magnificent creature. I hope the LeVeque witch does not destroy him.”
Bryn laughed. “If she does, there are so many more, a veritable sea of men to choose from.”
“I raised his desire to a fever pitch and then sent him off to satisfy it on LeVeque. I pray he does not hurt her. He was a large and powerful man with a huge organ.” She sighed. “I did enjoy him.”
“When is he supposed to bring you the stone?”
“Tomorrow night. I am to meet him at the Salon de Grande-Borce, a bar on the waterfront.”
“May I go with you?” Bryn knew she could not allow Fenix to go down to the waterfront alone; not with Priest abroad and killing again.
Fenix rolled her eyes. “I am afraid you will be quite de trop.”
“Think of something besides your loins for once, wanton. There i
s more to life than a big organ.”
“You only say that because you may not have one. I am not so restricted.”
“Let me accompany you, Fenix. It is little enough to ask.”
A mysterious smile hovered on her sister’s lips. “I see. I am now driving the horses. You may come, but when I wish to be private with Emile, you will take yourself off.”
Bryn sat on the bed and they hugged. “Of course. Would I keep you from this small joy?”
“Oh yes, if you thought I was in danger, poof! No sport for Fenix.”
“You shall have your sport, my dear, but only after I have the Coeur de Flamme.”
Chapter 10
Quinn went to his home in the Garden District to prepare for the hunt. He dined with Tomlinson in the laboratory. At least he dined; Tomlinson scattered crumbs and spilled wine over his newest project as he refused to stop working while he ate.
“So, Tomlinson, what is this new invention? It looks like a bad dream.”
His sparrow-like partner grinned and tilted his head in the typical Tomlinson gesture. “Why, it’s a flying machine, Quinn. I think I’ve solved my last problem.”
“And what is that?”
“I was trying to reduce the size of the steam engine. I needed a volatile fuel for it that took up little space. I believe I have found it.” He held up a whiskey flask.
“You plan to feed your nefarious machine spirits?”
“Exactly, the purest corn liquor distilled by a very crude gentleman who lives on a nearby farm.” He put the flask down and leaned forward to expound on his discovery with excitement sparkling in his brown eyes. “I mix it with coal oil and drip it into the fire box of my small engine one drop at a time through a regulator I have just devised. It solved all of my problems. The mixture burns hotter than anything else I’ve tried. I believe it will build enough steam and keep it constant enough to take my invention into the skies.”
Quinn snorted. “Please don’t think you must include me in your test flight.”
Tomlinson’s round eyes flew open. “But Quinn, how will I get it launched without your help?”
Quinn laughed. “I knew you’d rope me into this. Where do you plan to try this insane device…I mean, make your test flight?”
Tomlinson tilted his head and grinned. “Farmer Huggate’s cow pasture.”
Quinn covered his eyes. “I can see the cows running for their lives as clear as day. No, no, no, we will think of a better location. Now help me. I plan to break into St. Louis Cathedral. What have you in this disaster you call a laboratory I can use?”
An hour later, Quinn rode toward the Quarter wearing all black. He carried a black hood in his saddle pocket, a coil of thin rope as strong as any stout hemp rope, knotted to make climbing it easier, a sap specially designed by Tomlinson, a garrote, a tiny brass pistol that shot .44 caliber bullets, and a leather gauntlet fit with a watch, a compass, a row of tiny pick locks, and a row of bullets.
Tomlinson had forced him to wear a stiff leather vest he swore would stop bullets unless they were shot at extremely close range and a leather collar to prevent garroting by a rosary. He also had several small incendiary bombs in a pouch for emergencies. Sometimes Quinn wished Tomlinson’s inventions were designed a little more with comfort in mind. The collar was stiff and damned irritating.
St. Louis Cathedral was a grand church with a long history. The priests and the current Arch Bishop, Napoleon-Joseph Perche, lived in a residence behind the church. The building housed the staff for the holy fathers as well. Quinn tied his horse in Jackson Square. It was after midnight and the streets were quiet. As he’d told Bryn, the moonlight was just enough for him to see but as long as he stayed in the shadows, he was invisible.
He walked across the square and into Peter Antoine Alley which ran between the church and the Presbytere. The alley was dark and empty. The two big buildings rose on each side blocking any light. Twin gas lamps flickered ten feet apart on the wall of the church. Quinn used the dim light from the lamps to hunt for the courtyard gate as he hugged the wall of the church. When he found the gate, it was locked. Quinn removed one of the picks from his gauntlet and worked it in the locking mechanism for a few seconds. He heard the satisfying click of success, replaced the pick in its slot and slowly pushed the gate open. It creaked and he stopped, waited a few seconds, then continued opening it. Once inside, he closed the gate but left it unlocked.
A small ornamental garden criss-crossed by winding pathways separated the church from the residence. He stayed in the shadows as he approached the building. He wasn’t worried about guards or holy fathers wandering around in the dark. He was worried about Draak Priest. A man with his powers would set someone or something to guard his sleep. Quinn almost stepped on the first of Priest’s guards.
A black snake coiled at the base of a Crepe Myrtle, struck at Quinn. Its fangs dug into the black leather of Quinn’s riding boot long enough for Quinn to grab it behind its head. He held it up in the weak moonlight as he examined the squirming hideous creature. It was a species he was unfamiliar with, black, ten feet long with monstrous fangs, a black mouth and a gray belly. A drop of venom dripped from one of the fangs as Quinn pulled his knife and sliced off its head. The body lashed and writhed on the paving stones running between the flowering shrubs, refusing to die even though its head had been removed. Quinn shuddered. He hated snakes, but the presence of this guard told Quinn Priest must be in the building and hopefully asleep.
His next steps were taken more carefully. The snake’s fangs had been long enough to pierce his boots. He was lucky he caught it before they did. Even a scratch from those fangs dripping with venom could have killed him. He spotted no more snakes. Reaching the residence unmolested, he slipped along the smooth stone of the gray wall to the arched doorway. The polished wood door was held in place with large black, strapped hinges and locked with a modern version of the ancient Egyptian lock developed by Linus Yale. The pin and tumbler lock could be picked but would take time and leave Quinn exposed while he worked on it. He stepped back and examined the building.
A small balcony sat on the second floor at the end of the building. Quinn thought it was probably for the Arch Bishop’s use. He removed the coil of rope from his pouch and tossed it over the wrought-iron railing. He’d never seen a city so filled with balconies and wrought iron. So far, this had been a plus.
He climbed smoothly up the knotted line and slid over the rail. The French doors were open to let in a stray breeze on this singularly muggy night. Inside the room, a candle burned beside a massive bed hung with gossamer bed curtains. The figure sleeping behind the curtains did not rouse as Quinn stole across a thick carpet to the door. It was well-oiled and did not creak when he opened it. He slid into the dark hallway and closed the door behind him leaving the Arch Bishop sleeping peacefully.
Closed doors lined the dark hall and Quinn sighed. He had no idea which room housed Priest. He paused and examined all of them trying to reason where they would put a visiting father. He came to the conclusion that the rooms close to the Arch Bishop must be occupied by high-ranking church officials and priests and the Arch Bishop’s personal servants. That left two rooms at the far end of the hall.
The hall was lit with candles guttering in wall sconces. Soon, they would go out. In the flickering light, Quinn knelt and listened at the first of these rooms. When he heard sonorous snores coming from its occupant, he had to think. Would Priest snore like the dead? For some reason, Quinn doubted this. He moved to the other door, paused with his ear close, and backed rapidly away when he heard a hiss. It came from farther down the hall, closer to the Arch Bishop’s room. Quinn gasped when another one of those hideous black snakes seem to materialize from the dark wood of the door and race for him.
He plastered himself against the stone wall as he fought to remain calm. The snake charged him, left the stone floor and flew towards him, jaws wide, fangs clearly visible in the light from one of those flickering candles. At that
moment he was pitifully thankful for Tomlinson’s leather vest, the neck piece and the gauntlet because the snake struck for his heart. Quinn raised his arm, caught the snake’s fangs in the gauntlet and grasped it behind its head as it squirmed and fought against his grip. He held it firmly and took a long shuddering breath as he crushed the snake’s head against the stone wall. It writhed and fought even as its head was destroyed but soon became quiet in death. When he dropped the snake on the stone floor, it burst into flames and was quickly consumed leaving behind a ghastly black, oily residue that smelled horrendous. Quinn shrugged and wiped his hands on his leather pants. At least he knew which room.
When he approached the door, a stream of black smoke issued from the crack between it and the floor. The smoke formed into a cloud. Quinn was beginning to believe everything Bryn had told him about this evil man. He pressed himself against the wall as the swirling cloud of smoke flew by him and disappeared down the stairwell at the end of the hall. He had to look away from the cloud. The swirling smoke took all kinds of strange forms; first a demon with red eyes, then a winged reptile with its red mouth gaping. The constantly changing forms disturbed his equilibrium. He found himself close to a swoon, his stomach turning and twisting, and was only too glad when the smoke was gone. If that was what he had to fight, Bryn had been right to try to warn him away. Indeed, there were strange things in this world Quinn knew nothing about.
He hesitated for a moment in front of the door. Should he go inside? He felt sure Priest had somehow left the building either hidden by the cloud or somehow in the form of the smoke. What if there were more snakes…or something even worse behind that door? Quinn was still feeling the loss of his composure from the snakes’ attack. Could there be more of them? When he pressed his ear to the wood, listened and heard nothing, he made his decision, removed the pick from his gauntlet and quickly unlocked the door.
The Flight of the Zeppelin Page 7
