While the rest of the drones in the church swayed under the spell of LeVeque, he went hunting for Fenix by morphing into a black snake and slithering out of the church unseen. When he rounded the corner of the building he saw her crouched below the window. It took only a second to reach her, grab her leg in his fangs and inject poison.
One Sahir bitch taken care of. He regretted the need to kill her, but no matter, the other one would suffice. He morphed back into the black-haired man, scooped Fenix, unconscious and moaning into his arms and stashed her in the bushes. All he needed to make this night a success was the stone.
* * * *
Bryn grabbed her chest and gasped. “Fenix!” She’d felt two stinging pricks on her thigh then burning pain flowing from them. Unable to maintain the wind spell pushing the boat, the waves suddenly stopped, the boat slowed and coasted along the black waterway to a rickety dock. Quinn leaped over the seat and clutched her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
She gazed into his worried eyes. “Fenix is dying.”
“I know, dear heart. What made you gasp?”
She pushed at his chest. He could be so obtuse. “She’s been bitten by a snake. The poison is killing her. I must hurry.”
The flat boat bumped into the dock. Fingle leaped off and tied the boat to one of the dock’s pilings as Bryn tore up the hill. Fenix could not die. It was too soon. She raced through brambles thick with thorns, palmettos with their sharp-bladed fronds and sword plants slashing her skin in her heedless rush. She ignored the pain and kept pushing up the hill through the thick brush. At the top, she left the raking thorns behind and emerged in a clearing. A church pulsing with music and red light sat in the center. A voice was lifted on the breeze chanting a spell Bryn had never heard but which made her flesh crawl.
She spotted a black snake slithering through a hole in the boards of the church and stopped. Draak Priest was here. As if the voodoo ritual were not enough, where Priest was only evil would flourish. The bushes just outside of the clearing moved and Bryn knew Fenix lay there. Her life force was very low but she lived.
Bryn wanted to rush to her sister’s aid, but felt like she should enter the church. The drums, the music, and the chanting were like a siren’s song; hard to resist calling her to enter and take part in the hideous events taking place inside. A strange compulsion was on her. She started walking toward the church as one in a trance. She closed her eyes and struggled with the compulsion, trying desperately to throw it off. Deep inside, she touched her love for her sister and found in it the strength to resist. She tore herself away from the pounding beat of the drums and ran to Fenix.
Her poor sister lay white as death on her back beneath the hanging fronds of a palmetto. The dragging fronds of the small tree created a protected screen for her. Bryn bent low and examined her sister. High on Fenix’s thigh were two red holes. Clear fluid leaked out of them. The snake bite was leaking poison. Fenix was a healer. Her tears could revive those close to death. Her body was resisting the poison by pushing it out of her system.
Bryn knelt beside her and lifted her head. “Fenix, can you hear me? Fenix awaken!”
Her sister groaned and more poison flooded from the wounds. Bryn laid Fenix on the ground and leaned over her, chanting a healing spell. She placed one slender hand on Fenix’s white thigh. The freezing power within her turned the white skin blue. Bryn prayed the cold would stop the advance of the poison. As the chill spread, Fenix opened her eyes and clutched her sister’s hand. “You came. What’s happening to me?”
“You were bitten by Draak Priest in the form of a black mamba. He’s inside the church.”
Two shining droplets fell from Fenix’s golden eyes. Bryn caught the shining tears on the tip of her index finger and let one fall on each fang mark. The poison ran out of the bite marks in a steady stream. When it finally dried, the wounds closed and were gone. Fenix’s thigh was creamy white and without blemish.
Bryn pulled her sister into an embrace as Quinn slid into the brush next to them. “Where’s Fingle?” Bryn asked him.
“The nose is searching for the stone. What happened to Fenix?”
“She was bitten by Priest. He turned himself into a snake.”
“Of course he did. I’ve seen his predilection for snakes myself. Is she going to survive?”
“For now.” Bryn helped Fenix to sit. “Can you remain here without me?”
Fenix groaned. “I wanted to obtain the stone. I wished to affect my own rescue. Why do I have to be so weak?”
Bryn gave her a quick hug. “You are never weak unless at the end of your cycle. You are the strongest person I know. Take heart, my love, soon we will have the stone and the curse will be broken.”
Bryn examined the church. The chanting had reached a feverish peak. Above, the full moon crept into the clearing. Soon it would light up the church. Bryn suspected LeVeque would need the light of this pulsing July moon to complete her ritual. “What is she planning?” Bryn asked her sister.
“She’s going to turn Emile into a zombie.”
Quinn snorted and Bryn glared at him out of narrowed eyes. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I keep forgetting whose company I’m in.”
“What had she planned for you?” Bryn asked her sister.
Fenix turned her head away. “She was going to try to turn me into a slut welcoming all who desired me with open arms and legs.”
The half-smile on Bryn’s lips did not reach her eyes. “I doubt if she’s strong enough, though with the aid of the stone, perhaps. Where is the stone?”
“When last I saw, hanging around her neck.”
Bryn stood up. “I think we should wait until she’s turned Emile into a zombie. Her power will be depleted. It will be the moment when she’s least able to protect herself.”
Fenix grabbed her hand. “But Emile. It’s too terrible a fate to contemplate.”
Bryn did not even look at her sister. “He’s already dead, my dear. Do not fret over him. His soul has fled. What matter if she reanimates him, especially if we are aided by it?”
Fenix sighed, but said nothing. Bryn patted her hand, leaned down and kissed the top of her head as Fingle slipped into the bushes beside her. “The stone?”
“Yon witch has it in her hand. There is a hole in the roof. Me thinks she awaits the arrival of the moon.”
“Did you see Priest?”
Fingle shook his head.
“You two stay here with Fenix,” Bryn said to Quinn and Fingle, “I’m going into that church.”
Quinn grabbed her arm. “Allow me to go with you.”
When he pulled her close, she did not resist. “My darling,” he whispered into her ear. “Let me go with you.”
She smiled but gently pushed him away. “You must guard Fenix. She’s still very weak. Now do not be alarmed at what I do next.” She lifted her arms, spoke two short words, “Eutheos korax!”
Right before Quinn’s horrified eyes, Bryn’s black riding dress fell away leaving her startling white body shining in the moonlight for a second, and then she turned into a crow. The black bird squawked once and flew into a tree.
Chapter 16
Quinn watched in stunned silence as Bryn, now a crow, hopped to the roof of the church and ducked inside. “What the Deuce?” He demanded of Fingle who was quietly stroking Fenix’s arm.
“Her always was a wild one, Master Quinn. Never nothing me nor Sam could do with her.”
“That’s not what I meant. What does she think she can do as a bird?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised, your Grace, yes you would.”
Quinn shook his head as he bent low to help Fenix up. She wobbled on her feet for a second and Quinn scooped her into his arms. “We must find a safe place to hide you. Who knows what mischief your sister is about to cause inside that church.”
“She’s going to get the Coeur de Flamme and save me,” Fenix said in a pitiful voice. “I so wish I could be there with her.”
“Now, Miss,” Fingle said in a l
ow voice. “You mustn’t let your pulse quicken. Miss Bryn always says that’s the worstest thing for you.”
She let her head fall back. “I shan’t. Find me a place to rest and I shall endeavor to look through her eyes. That way we may give her our support as well as know what’s happening inside the church.”
Quinn perked up. “You can do that?”
Fenix nodded. “If I am perfectly quiet.”
Quinn carried her through thick brush to a small cabin. The door swung open when he kicked it and he peered inside. “Must be hers.”
Fingle, sniffing like the hound he was, entered the cabin and began nosing through the piles of garments, blankets and books stacked so closely there was only a narrow pathway between them. He lifted his head and Quinn fought against the tide of mirth sweeping over him at the sight of Fingle’s gigantic quivering nose. There was nothing in their present situation to warrant levity. “This be the witch’s den, but nothing be here to harm us,” Fingle announced and pointed at a heap of silk scarves, furs and woven blankets. “I believes that may be the bed, your Grace.”
“I’m not a duke,” Quinn said as he laid Fenix down on the bed. “Stop calling me your Grace.”
“You sure act like you be one.”
“Stop brangling,” Fenix moaned as she closed her eyes. “I’m going to try to far-see through Bryn.”
Quinn sat on a bundle of clothing and watched. Fingle circled twice and lay down beside the bed in a tight circle. At any moment, Quinn expected the man to begin washing his genitals with his tongue.
* * * *
Fenix relaxed and allowed her mind to search for that thin golden cord that connected her to Bryn. It had been there since she was a baby. She could always find it even when Bryn was doing something she’d rather keep to herself. When she located the quivering thread of shining gold, she followed it.
Bryn apparently perched on one of the church rafters. The view through the crow’s eyes was different. The world appeared to have rounded edges. Certain colors were magnified and the dark interior of the church was much brighter than a human would see it. The red of a woman’s turban glowed like it was on fire. Certain blue garments were more purple. Bryn was currently staring at a young white man wearing formal attire. Fenix could not gasp because she was there only in spirit, but she recognized the young man as Draak Priest. He’d come for the stone.
Bryn swooped out of the rafters, grabbed a hunk of Priest’s carefully pomaded hair and jerked as Priest tried to bat her away without attracting notice. Bryn returned to a rafter, this one much closer to the altar, with long strands of black hair in her claws. She dropped them and leaned forward to watch the proceedings. The ritual had begun.
Marie LeVeque was bent low over her ex-lover Emile, now a dead man. His lips were parted and his tongue clearly visible. LeVeque held her palm outstretched. There was powder in it colored purple by Bryn’s crow vision. The witch blew the powder into Emile’s face and across his chest as she squatted above him. Poor Emile was quite naked and Fenix saw his privates had been cruelly burned. She felt bad for him. She had been the one to send Emile to LeVeque. Perhaps the man would have gone on his own, but it was her suggestion when he was under her control that had sent him there. If she hadn’t done it, maybe he would still be alive and still be a man.
The pounding beat of the drums quickened. The rafters shook under the crow’s feet. Bryn’s gaze concentrated on the stone swinging from the golden chain around LeVeque’s café au lait neck. The stone swung back and forth between LeVeque’s breasts, the nipples of which were hard and pebbled with excitement. Fenix felt that arousal through Bryn. All the people in the church felt it. Sex hung in the air like a thick fog. The church smelled like sex. The music was primitive and throbbed like excited blood through the veins of an aroused person.
A man stepped forward and dropped his pants. He was tall and very dark-skinned. His organ thumped against his belly, hard as a limb from a tree. LeVeque climbed off Emile and knelt to take the organ into her mouth. She sucked and the man groaned and thrust his hips forward as LeVeque drew him closer by pulling on his buttocks which were like globes carved from black marble. The witch licked and wet the dark purple head of the man’s cock until its throbbing could clearly be viewed by the crow.
Bryn’s breath quickened and Fenix felt it. The crow leaned forward trembling to watch LeVeque seduce the man.
He began to moan in time to the drums. His moaning increased and so did the drum beat. LeVeque allowed his organ to fall out of her mouth and grabbed it in her hands. She stroked it faster and faster. Thick veins stood out on the sides of the dark brown cock. The man’s eyes were tightly closed, his organ was now over Emile’s prone body. When he ejaculated semen, the fluid of life, shot out and landed on Emile’s chest. LeVeque shoved the big man away. He tripped and fell into the first pew. A woman caught him and began stroking his still erect cock. The woman next to her joined and soon the entire congregation was stripping naked and engaging in sexual acts.
Bryn hopped from one foot to the other. Below her, a man mounted a young woman with beautiful breasts. He had her legs spread at an impossible angle as he thrust into her opening which was clearly visible to Bryn and Fenix. Bryn turned her feathered head at an odd angle, hopped to the rafter over the altar and looked down. LeVeque was smearing the semen into the gray powder to make a paste. She took some of the paste and shoved it into Emile’s mouth liberally coating his protruding tongue. Then she stood up and began to chant and sing in Creole with the Coeur de Flamme in both hands. The red heart of the stone began to glow and Bryn quivered with barely suppressed anger and anxiety. She hopped from one foot to another. When the witch’s eyes closed and she swayed back and forth in a trance, Bryn launched herself off the rafter, swooped low and snatched the gold chain in her claws. The chain snapped and she had the Coeur de Flamme!
The link between Fenix and Bryn abruptly snapped. Fenix opened her eyes and found herself in the cabin. “She has the stone,” she said to Quinn. “We must run. The witch will be furious. Bryn interrupted her precious ritual.”
Quinn didn’t argue. He snatched her into his arms and raced through thick brush followed by Fingle who was unable to stop himself from baying. Quinn paused in the middle of a clump of brambles. “Fingle, you’re a man. Act like it.”
* * * *
Bryn flew to a rafter and paused for a second. Beneath her chaos reigned. The witch screamed, “Get that bird!” The people in the pews had been engaged in sex of every kind. It took them a moment to understand what she was screaming.
“The crow! The crow! Get the crow! It’s on the rafter.” She pointed to Bryn. “She’s got my precious stone,” she wailed.
Bryn held the chain with the stone in her beak as she looked for a way out. The door to the church was closed, but one window was broken. It was hard for her to adjust to one eye on each side of her head. She tilted her head, planned a route to the window and took off. Naked bodies lunged for her, hands grasping for the dangling stone. She flapped higher, halfway to the window, right over the fifth pew, when a roar filled the building.
Once again she had to tilt her head to see where the earth-shattering roar came from. Horrified by what she saw, she flapped harder in an attempt to escape the gaping maw of a huge black dragon. The dragon lunged once, its mouth wide, a long tongue snatched her out of the air, dragged her into that mouth and dropped her.
The stench was terrible. Gasping for air, Bryn opened her beak and let the stone fall into the dragon’s throat as she scrabbled to get a grip on two dangerously sharp fangs and save herself from being swallowed. Everything in the dark, stinking mouth of the dragon was covered with a slippery coating of disgusting mucus. When the dragon closed its mouth around her, its giant tongue undulated in an effort to force her into its gullet. She slipped and slid as she fought to save herself from being swallowed.
Heat suddenly built around her and she froze with fear. The dragon was going to belch fire! Desperate to
escape, she shot one long lingering look down the black hole of the dragon’s throat where the stone had since disappeared and began pecking like a demented chicken on the roof of the dragon’s mouth.
The dragon roared, opening its mouth wide. Intense heat flared around her. She looked once with one eye behind her and squawked with terror. A boiling ball of flame was emerging from the black hole of the gullet. Bryn shot out of the dragon’s mouth in front of the flames propelled by a monstrous blast of super-hot air. The dragon perched on the back of the pew and roared again. The altar and the front pews burst into flames. A hundred terrified people scrambled for the door in various states of undress as Bryn flew into the rafters over the blazing altar.
Marie LeVeque huddled in a corner and whimpered. Her luxurious hair smoldered, burned in patches. She clutched her torn dress to her naked body. When she spotted the crow, she leaped to her feet, dropped the dress and screamed, “Die crow!”
Bryn felt LeVeque’s hatred, thick and evil, aimed right at her. LeVeque pointed her finger at Bryn, closed her eyes and began chanting as the dragon rose from its perch, huge wings knocking people down, wind roaring as the wings stirred the air with mighty flaps. Flames shot from the dragon’s mouth and scorched the roof. The burning rafters and shingles creaked and groaned. The people remaining in the church screamed and scrambled to get out through the windows and doors as the roof slowly collapsed. LeVeque was caught by a beam and knocked to the ground to move no more. With the roof gone, Bryn took to the air. The dragon lifted out of the church flapping its wings in slow powerful strokes that took it higher until it was above the trees.
Bryn wanted to follow it, but knew she was too small and too slow, so she flew to the bushes where she’d left Fenix, Quinn and Fingle. They were gone. She perched on a tree branch and scratched vigorously at her feathered breast with one long claw. The dock, they must be at the dock. It only took her a few moments to wing down the hill. Fingle had a pole in his hand and Quinn was at the tiller of the flat boat. She dropped to the bench seat and morphed back into a woman.
The Flight of the Zeppelin Page 11
