Pretty Waiter Girls

by Greg Alldredge

  “What is this place?” Helena asked. In answer, Doyle shook his head. Estimating the size of the room was impossible, the cloth flowed like the wings of a white dove in an unnatural breeze making it difficult to judge distance by sight or sound. As far as Helena could tell the room went on forever. The pair took one step at a time testing the floor trying to find an end to the space. She continued, “It’s beautiful.”

  A sultry female voice spoke out of nothing with a slight lisp, “Thank you, I do enjoy my decorationsss.”

  She couldn’t help but jump from the voice, “I’m sorry we’re intruding. We are looking for a friend and thought she might have found her way in here. May I ask who we’re speaking to?”

  “You may call me Sssissster Ping,” the sumptuous voice spoke back. Helena wasn’t sure where the sound came from at one moment she thought it came from in front of her the next from behind.

  “Sister Ping, have you seen a woman named Missy?”

  “What an odd way you Laowai ussse to call one another,” the hissing continued.

  “We shouldn’t be here, we need to leave now,” Helena said turning to Doyle.

  “About time you got here. Disssarm her.”

  Helena turned to inspect the white drapes then back with a questioning look wondering if Doyle was the one that Cade had warned her about.

  Doyle glanced back at her as perplexed as she was and shrugged his shoulders.

  “Mistress I need you and the Detective to please drop your weapons, so I don’t have to kill you here,” Helena recognized Lane’s voice immediately. She spun around and found him standing ten paces behind them, his Navy revolver out aimed at the pair.

  “Lane, what you are doing here? Why are you pointing that gun at me?” Helena asked.

  “Helena drop your walking stick. Detective, do the same with your pistol. Then kick them both towards me.”

  “Lane, what is going on?” Helena still not comprehending what was happening, she had known Lane for the past seven years, more like an older brother to her, than a driver.

  “Lane I’m not very happy with you right now,” said the hissing voice.

  In shock, Helena did as she was told kicking her cane towards Lane’s feet. The Detective, a little bolder waited for a few beats longer until Lane pointed the gun directly at Helena’s face to which he took a step backward. Given little choice Doyle acquiesced, slowly removing his pistol dropping it to the floor and kicking the weapon towards Lane.

  “It’sss about time you arrived, why are you ssso late? I thought I wasss going to need to kill thessse two. Now we can harvessst them like we’ve done the othersss,” she gave an evil laugh, a hiss filled sniggering at her own inside joke.

  “Yes Sister, I am sorry I was late, this brat gave me the slip last night during the riot. I was coming to inform you I was unable to find her.”

  Doyle began rattling off something in Chinese, Helena had no understanding what he said.

  “Do not ssspeak Cantonessse to me, I ssspeak English perfectly I’ve been in this country for many yearsss. Besidesss I speak Mandarin.”

  “In that case, I put you under arrest for the murder the four yet identified women in San Francisco.”

  “You, I bet you are wonderful at partiesss. Everyone in Sssan Francisssco isss responsssible for murdersss. It jussst dependsss on how you define the act.”

  Helena became convinced the voice had moved closer, she almost made out the figure of a woman gliding out of visual range. She found her voice, “Lane, you are the traitor that reprobate Cade warned me about?”

  Lane shifted the gun to Doyle, expecting him to lunge. “I am sorry Helena, I wish I could explain,” Lane’s face covered with an expression of pain and heartbreak.

  “Lane, however, you had one job, to keep this girl busssy and out of my hair until all the preparationsss were made. You failed. I don’t think I will be needing your ssservicesss any longer.”

  “Mistress please I’ve done everything you asked. If not for the riot last night she would still be chasing her tail.”

  “Lane, you are fired!” Helena shouted at him, tears welling in her eyes.

  “Perhapsss you are right, perhapsss I ssshould let you live to continue to ssserve me.”

  Helena wasn’t sure what was happening, but by the tone of Lane’s voice, it wasn’t going well for him. She felt torn watching him beg, seeing her long-time friend experiencing such pain, and seeing the man that betrayed her facing the same pain.

  “Yes, Mistress please I will serve you faithfully I promise.”

  “Isn’t that what you told me?” Helena cried through her tears.

  There came a most prolonged pause, then Helena detected the strangest sound, metal gliding over metal slicing through the white fabric then a slurping sound once it found flesh. She felt moisture land on her right cheek and saw pieces of cloth drifting to the floor like severed angel wings, others splattered with blood droplets. Doyle flinched in her direction, and she saw three blood drops on his face. They looked into each other’s eyes, Helena only seeing fear and surprise in Doyle’s, they did a quick inspection for damage on each other and found none.

  “Where did the blood come from?” Helena asked as she wiped a drop from Doyle’s cheek, then turned to look at Lane. He still stood in the same place with a red line developing from the top of his head to where she lost it under his hat, running down to his groin. Lane had the most perplexed expression on his face both arms had dropped to his sides. Helena noticed that gravity had taken over his body first the right side, the side with the gun, started slipping away from the left. His face had the oddest look as the right slide slid to the floor and the left side crumpled on top of it. His body had been split right down the middle with one slice. The pair stood in shock.

  Helena screamed, as the horror of the image seared into her mind, and the death of her friend even if he turned out to be a traitor.

  “You bitch!” Helena screamed with her fresh breath.

  “I did you a favor, you would’ve taken him back, and he would’ve betrayed you in the future. The two of you can no longer do damage to my plansss. You’re free to go. Live with the fact that you have been usssed in a game. A game that you could never win, and you sssaw the man that wasss your friend betray you and die in the sssame day.”

  Coming to his senses first Doyle pulled Helena to the ground. “I think that’s a chain whip, the deadliest one I’ve ever seen.”

  Right now, Helena didn’t care, she saw movement the other side of a translucent silk. She identified the outline of a woman, or at least the top half of woman her breasts bare, her hair piled on top of her head in an intricate design. However, the bottom half was the shape of a giant snake propelling the woman silently along the floor.

  “A Naga,” Helena whispered.

  “A what?” he said scrambling towards Lane’s body and his pistol now resting in a growing pool of blood and entrails.

  “Half-woman, half-snake from--,” she was cut off by Doyle.

  “I understand what a Naga is, please don’t try to convince me to believe we have one running around the streets of San Francisco. I think it would be noticed,” Doyle said sliding Helena’s cane to her.

  She caught her walking stick giving the handle the quarter turn till she felt the familiar click. “Why must you infuriate so? How do we get out of here?”

  “You two are abusssing my hospitality. I am late for a ssseremony to sssee the fruition of my plansss. The dessstruction of Sssan Francisssco’sss elite and posssibly the world. Young lady your parentsss would be proud,” said Sister Ping her voice growing fainter.

  Helena jumped up forgetting her safety she began running in the direction she assumed the voice came from. Instantly lost in the cloth walls she shouted at the top of her lungs, “What do you know about my parents?”

  Not that she expected an answer, but she received, a reply that proved even more outlandish. What sounded like a dozen o
r more small war cries let out from the direction opposite she had started in, answered her question. She turned on her heel, almost tripping over Doyle, she ran in the opposite direction towards the sound of a fight.

  “Hey, wait for me,” Doyle followed right behind her.

  The skirmish ended as quickly as it began, but Helena kept running the direction she thought it happened. To her surprise, she came to an area splattered with blood, the dismembered bodies of three Lost Boys in various sections. Annie, at least Helena thought the creature was Annie, sat against the far wall nursing her right arm an evil looking weapon laid coiled in front of her. Doyle burst in right behind Helena pistol drawn.

  “We must be in the full moon cycle, they can’t control their shifting. Please don’t hurt them, there my friends, the Lost Boys,” Helena said rushing to Annie seeing if there was anything she might do to help.

  Doyle let Helena attend the giant rat people while he inspected the fight scene. It didn’t take long before he had a general idea of what happened.

  “As far as I can tell, Sister Ping headed towards this hole in the floor, her exit,” he walked around the room. He spoke and pointed to items he thought relevant, “Either she surprised them coming in, or they surprised her going out or some combination, the battle started here. These three cut down by the chain whip lying there next to your friend. That is the weapon I believed that has been used to dismember the bodies of the murdered women, I’ve been investigating. It looks like your friend attacked her sword arm biting her viciously allowing her to wrestle the weapon free from her hand. Once disarmed Sister Ping had no choice but to flee. Now I think we should head into the sewers and try to finish this.”

  Helena had been stroking Annie’s brown fur, but her and the surviving eight wererats moved at once to stop him.

  “A person has better things to do than dying. If you go down that hole, you’re not coming out,” Helena stated flatly.

  Doyle said, “But we have no idea where she’s going, she’s our only lead,” looking longingly at the hole.

  “I think I know where she’s going, but it’s a trip,” Helena said scooping up the chain whip careful not to cut herself on the multiple sharp edges she then bent and helped Annie into her arms.

  “Let’s get out of here this place smells of death,” Helena began heading towards what she thought was the way out.

  She stopped when they came to Lane’s remains, still carrying Annie she asked, “Can you have your friends cover his body with that cloth?”

  She thought for a moment longer, “and take his boots there are fifty dollars in each heel,” she shook her head, the pain in her heart radiated in her eyes at the betrayal and death of her friend.

  Doyle said, trying to move her to the exit, “I’ll have coppers down here to tear this place apart. I would be willing to bet a month’s pay this is where the murders occurred,” he had his arms full helping a couple of the wounded wererats towards the exit.

  Apocalypse:

  Once they returned to the surface, they found the sun had set, emerging in the dead of night, the full moon high in the sky, the woman gone, and the gate to the courtyard wide open.

  “How many hours were we in there? Where did the sun go?” Doyle asked.

  “I’ve read that in the presence of magic, or Legendary Creatures, a mortal can lose track of time. It’s something about both that messes with our sense of time.”

  “I’m not completely convinced that there are such things as magic creatures or witches.”

  “Says the man surrounded by a number of wererats.”

  Doyle considered the three to four-foot-tall rat creatures surrounding him and refused to answer.

  “We need to get three messages out in a hurry. I will bet that Mister Wizard is still working in his shop, if we send one message to him, I’m sure he can get us help where we need it.”

  Doyle pulled out his red book and the special fountain pen. “I can write a note, but only The Wizard can read it. What do we need to say?”

  “Where are we? We never did find out where we are.”

  “Just a moment,” Doyle ran outside the gate then turned and disappeared.

  Helena set Annie down on the back end of the wagon. She inspected the horse and buckboard making sure it was ready to travel.

  Doyle quickly returned, “Were on the corner of Bush and Stockton an abandoned theatre.”

  “Tell Professor Merryall we need the police here. We want to ensure there are no other captives,” Doyle swiftly took notes as Helena dictated. “We also need the police and Sigmund and any help they can muster to meet us at the Suttor Baths. We need to stop the end of the world. Then you sign it.”

  Once Doyle took down everything that Helena had said, he tore the page out of the book, folded it in half, and handed it to Helena.

  Helena turned and handed it to Annie. “Honey I need you and your friends to take this to 800 Howard Street, it is a workshop I have a friend there. It will be scary, but you must hand deliver this note. Then you and your friends can head home. We must get to the Suttor’s Baths. I think it’s outside of your Mischief’s range.

  Annie took the message, nuzzled Helena’s arm in understanding then gathered her friends and headed out the gate.

  “We need to borrow this buckboard and travel to Suttor’s Baths,” she said guiding the horse, backing the wagon into the alley.

  Doyle swiftly joined, “I only have two questions. Why did you want everyone at Suttor’s Baths and why did I sign the letter? Sister Ping didn’t tell us anything.”

  “I believe she told me everything I needed to know. She said she was late for a ceremony. That could be anywhere. However, a few days ago Mister Suttor himself told me he rented out the Baths for different ceremonies, religious, secret, all kinds of rituals. It’s the only lead we have.”

  “That’s very weak.”

  “Anemic, do you have a better suggestion?”

  “Unfortunately, no, and I signed the letter because?”

  “If my idea doesn’t pan out, you will get the blame and I won’t,” she smiled at him after speaking.

  Doyle’s eyes bulged slightly as he listened to her cunning, cold statement.

  She continued, “The real reason is most adults won’t listen to me because I’m too young, too female, too blonde, too something other than a white man. I needed a white man... To sign his name to my idea so people would listen to it,” she hadn’t made the rules to this game, but she was going to learn to master the game, change the rules or even change the game.

  “I think I should be afraid right now.”

  “You should be.”

  The wagon, ready to go, they both jumped into the driver seat. Helena took the reins and with a flick of her wrists struck out on a new life, or the end of the world. She was about to find out which at Suttor’s Baths.

  Helena and Doyle had no idea if the quarantine still contained Chinatown and the Barbary Coast. Annie and her posse proved unable to give Helena any information on the Chinese Girl’s School deep in the heart of Chinatown. Helena had no indication if Suttor’s Baths was the correct location. She didn’t know much about gambling, but she had learned about so many new things, now she’d try doubling-down to find Missy.

  The streets were quiet, the effects of the quarantine, the previous night’s riot, and the Calvary patrolling the streets still being felt throughout the city. The buckboard careened through the quiet streets the horse at full gallop, Doyle holding on for dear life. Helena pushed the horses hard, gas lights flashing by until they reached the Odd Fellows Cemetery and closed racetrack where the gas streetlights ended.

  Due to the lack of lighting, Helena had to slow considerably when she grew parallel to the infield of the racetrack. The Russian’s airship still sat moored on the infield of the raceway; the surrounding grass and grandstand lit by the green glow of the limelight illumination from the craft.

  Helena elbowed Doyle, “I
wouldn’t be surprised to find out that those two were somehow involved,” she motioned with her head.

  Doyle shrugged, “I don’t usually run with that crowd. Though I saw them land, impressive.”

  “I met them both, at the time I thought they were mesmerizing, now I think they're dangerous.”

  “Do you have any plans when we get there?”

  “Isn’t it plain enough, we find the Naga, kill it, find and rescue Missy, save the world and escape to adventure another day,” she looked over and flashed a smile while trying to stay on the road.

  “Simple,” Doyle smiled back and started checking his pistol to ensure it was loaded and ready to go.

  “Holy mother of Jesus, and the Holy Ghost. Here take the reins for a moment,” she barely gave Doyle enough time to put his pistol back into his holster before she handed him the reins.

  “Careful, please don’t kill us before we save the world,” Doyle watched as Helena patted herself down looking for something. “What on earth are you looking for?”

  “Last night Sigmund gave me a pistol.”

  “You mean to tell me, while we were in the theatre, you had a pistol, and you didn’t pull it?”

  “Unlike you, I’m not used to carrying a firearm. A lady normally doesn’t require a pistol. Besides, I must have lost it, I can’t find it. Strange Gus gave me my sword the Lost Boys must not have found my pistol.”

  “It’s a shame it would’ve been nice to have another sidearm. I only have fifteen shots; how many do you think I’ll need?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never had to kill a Naga before. I would say keep shooting it until it stops moving. How do you know about the Naga and speak Chinese?”