“It’s quite simple. My parents were Baptist missionaries, I grew up north of Hong Kong in a little city called Guangzhou. My parents thought it important that I learn the language, the customs, the culture, their way of fighting, in many ways, I am as much Chinese as I am American.”
“And that’s how you know Miss Tsang Mei Yan?”
“Yes, she went to school at my parent’s mission, we played together as children. When my parents came back to the states, we brought her with us.”
“Watch out!” Helena pointed as a deer jumped out of the woods and into the path of the wagon.
“Strange for deer to be moving this time a night, they move during the morning or the evening,” Doyle slowed the wagons pace.
“If you think the deer’s strange, take a gander at the woods. Give me the reins back.” Helena took the reins guiding the wagon as best she could down the dark road.
“I’ve never seen animals do this, unless when they’re running away from a forest fire. I’ve seen animals run away from a predator like this before. Something must be going on ahead of us, and they sense danger.”
“They’re all running away from the Cliff House. I think we’re going in the right direction.”
Helena continued down the path until they reached the dark Cliff House. All the lights that had been on during the Count’s reception were now extinguished, the gates into the parking area closed, and every window of the inn dark.
“Now what?” Doyle asked.
“I don’t think the party is here. I think they closed the inn so there would be no witnesses to what happened in the Baths below. We need to loop around the grotto to the stairs. That’s where Missy should be.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I hope I do too.”
When they arrived at the parking area for the Baths, it was empty. Helena felt a sudden falling feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had picked wrong that she had one chance to figure this mystery out and she had failed in her task.
“No one’s here?” Helena cried.
“If I was hosting a secret ceremony to bring about the end of the world I don’t think I would advertise it with a bunch of wagons and carriages parked out front. We’ve come all the way out here we must check the baths. If there empty will figure out something to do till the Apocalypse.”
“Very well, be careful on the steps they are difficult enough when the sun has dried them. The steps can be slick,” Helena took the lead
The pair held tight to the rail, going down gravity worked with them making for a speedy trip down the three-hundred-foot incline. Helena saw no lights, no movement, nothing, not even a guard at the Baths entrance.
Upon reaching the bottom landing, she could see the door in the great wall of glass that covered the inside saltwater pools. Helena said, “I had always assumed there would be a guard here,” when she tried the door, finding it unlocked, “Curiouser and curiouser, cried Alice.”
Doyle raised his right eyebrow, “I think you read too much.”
“There’s no such thing,” Helena pushed the door open noiselessly on well-oiled hinges.
The pair found the Baths silent, just the sound of the surf pounding against the rocks below the pools. Helena looked at Doyle and shrugged.
Doyle shrugged back, “Didn’t I read somewhere that there are tunnels in the cliffs to fill the pools with saltwater or something?”
“You're brilliant! Madame Griselda told me that Missy was held near water in a dark cell with no sunlight. I always assumed it was a sewer or a ship. It might be the tunnels in those cliffs over there,” Helena pointed towards the darkest point of the pool building. That point in the shadow of the cliff from the light of the full moon flooding half of the massive space.
“After you,” Doyle bowed motioning for her to take the lead with his left hand.
Helena started running, she wasn’t entirely used to running. Most of her clothing wasn’t made for exercise of any kind. The closer she got to the darker area of the pool she made out a speck of light or lighter colored something reflecting what little illumination there was in the area.
She stopped running, and Doyle pulled up next to her, “I think something is out ahead of us,” she whispered into Doyle’s ear drawing her sword.
Doyle pulled his pistol, and they started sneaking towards the perceived light area in front of them wholly focused, ready for any attack.
The closer they got Helena saw someone dressed in white, arms and legs stretched out like a giant X.
“Someone is there,” Helena began picking up the pace. She hoped upon hope it was Missy and somehow, they got there before anything had started. Doyle followed right on her heels, his breathing heavy behind her when they reached a woman. Dressed in a white robe, a white hood she had been shackled to a Saint Andrews Cross attached to some mechanical contraption in the darkest part of the shadows.
“Doyle get her out of these bindings,” Helena hissed, climbing on the device, enabling her to reach the woman’s head. To Helen’s surprise, the body moved, she pulled the hood off, and there hung Missy staring back at her. She looked just like her picture, but her hair had been cut short her mouth gagged with a piece of line tied into a knot and lashed behind her head.
Helena removed Missy’s gag, and the first words out of her mouth were, “It’s a trap.”
“Doyle, we need to get out of here get those shackles off, shoot them off!”
Helena looked down and saw Doyle had placed the gun on the pool deck while he worked to unlatch the shackles. He reached for the pistol, and Helena caught a whiz and thunk, as she witnessed an arrow penetrate Doyle’s right wrist. At first, shocked to find a shaft of wood sticking through his lower arm, held his attention. Then the pain lancing up his arm caused him to scream in pain.
On the cue of Doyle scream the electric lights flashed on, bathing the space in bright light. There a hundred-feet away slithered the Naga, Sister Ping. Helena jumped off the Saint Andrew’s Cross and grabbed Doyle’s gun.
Missy let out a brilliant scream at her first site of the monster. The Naga nocked another arrow slithering side to side. Helena knelt on one knee, took her best aim with an unfamiliar pistol, squeezed the trigger, and fired six shots each one successively higher than the first up into the glass over the Sister Ping’s head.
“Be careful it is fully automatic it will walk up,” Doyle spoke through clenched teeth clearly in pain.
Like a mother bear protecting her cub, Helena stayed between the Naga and Doyle not giving her a clear shot for a coup de grâce. She pulled off another three shots more controlled this time but missed to the right.
“Why isn’t she attacking?” Helena whispered to the wounded Doyle behind her.
“Did you see the arrow sticking through my arm?” Doyle’s voice grew weaker, either through blood loss or the shock of the damage.
The creature stayed just out of range, she lost count of how many shots she’d fired, so she simply started shooting hoping for the best. She held the gun as steady as possible and tried to lead the target like she was using a hunting rifle aimed at the creature’s bare breasts and pulled the trigger steady. Her last three shots hit the Naga in the right arm, the right chest, and left chest, it was a pure luck of the Irish moment. With the last shot, the slide stayed open. Helena watched as the Naga dropped.
Helena turned to inspect the blood flowing out of Doyle’s arm, she not knowing if the bone was broken, artery cut, or if he was going to live or die.
“You must break the arrow... pull it out... wrap my arm... don’t let my fingers... turn blue--” Doyle passed out.
Helena had no medical kit, she certainly had no medical training, she took her riding jacket off and tossed it next to her sword. Then she ripped the sleeve off her white long-sleeve shirt. She looked at the arrow sticking through his forearm and grabbed its jet-black staff and snapped the piece of wood. Grateful Doyle had passed out, fo
r once he was quiet, and that would’ve hurt if he were still conscious. She did the best imitation of Lane wrapping her horse’s ankles before she would go jumping.
“I told you she was resourceful,” a deep baritone voice echoed through the glass wall behind her causing her to spin and lunge for her jacket and sword that no longer lay there.
Helena could see the hem of a black robe, now five paces away. Even worse Sister Ping had risen from the lump that she had fallen into and now slithering towards the group.
She scowled up at the face wearing the black robe and saw nothing but a black hood and cloth that completely hid his face. Even his hands covered in thin black gloves the man was an enigma.
“Yes, wonderful, I think you possess something of mine,” Sister Ping held out her hand waiting for the mysterious man to deliver something.
“Yes, and I think you owe me something,” said the mysterious man, holding Helena’s jacket with his right hand his left hand outstretched to receive something from the monster.
For the first time, Helena noticed that the Naga had a cross of leather straps separating her naked bosom. One was for her quiver of arrows, the second held a satchel slung over the opposite shoulder. She reached into her bag and pulled out a smaller red velvet pouch.
The human, clad in black and the Naga clad in nothing did a little game of keep-away before both got their respective price.
Sister Ping found her chain whip within Helena’s coat pocket, she screamed a victory screech once it was recovered and began heading for a tunnel in the cliff.
The man in black opened the red velvet pouch reverently and found an ancient dagger with a Dragon handle, corroded in places it looked a thousand years old and highly likely unable to cut, anything.
“What is this? Is this a trick? You promised me the dagger to control dragons.”
Sister Ping turned the tip of her tail twitching slowly as she spoke, “That is The Dagger of Dragons. With that dagger, you can summon any Dragon once you have the true name. I’ve held up my end of the bargain. I’ve given you the girl, the ritual, the dagger, and I’ve given you the dragons true name. All you must do is say the ceremony like I’ve taught you and your Dragon will arrive. That blade is over two thousand years old, something doesn’t need to be bright and shiny to be mighty. You should learn to respect age and wisdom you would go far.”
“I’ve gone far respecting money and power I think I will stick with those two,” the man in black replied inspecting the dagger more closely in the overhead light.
Helena watched as Sister Ping slithered off out of the light and into a tunnel. “I guess some monsters are still human,” Helena said, looking up at the man from the ground, defeated next to Doyle.
“You understand we’ve been working for this moment for centuries. What for you has been a quest for seven days we’ve been working towards this goal since recorded history.”
“You’re insane!” Helena shouted.
Missy cried, “Can’t you let us go? We won’t tell anyone what you’ve done.”
“Oh, my dear Missy, you can’t leave. You’re the guest of honor. Helena come stand next to me.”
“Go to hell,” Helena spit.
“Child, a lady shouldn’t use such language. I was going to let Detective Longstreet leave without any further damage. However, if you refuse to do as you’re told, I’ll slit his throat with this rusty knife and throw his body into the sea,” the man held his black-gloved hand out for her.
Working her way up off the deck without the man’s help she brushed herself off, standing.
“The time has come for you to take your rightful place in your community, with your tribe.”
Helena recognized the words from the Count’s reception but not the voice behind them, she peered into the man’s mask trying to catch a glimpse who hid behind it.
“Who are you? And why would I follow one insane man attempting, I don’t even know what you’re attempting to do?”
“I am the Grand Witch of the Society of the Draco, and I am not alone,” with a circular motion of the dagger in his right hand. Two lines of similarly dressed people begin snaking out of the tunnels and walking along the walls of the massive indoor swimming pool. Impossible to count, Helena watched as she became completely encircled by hundreds of people all clad in the same black robes “This is your tribe.”
Defiant Helena saw no way out, she wanted answers, “I want to know who you are behind the mask, not your title,” Helena took a step back her arms crossed.
“One way or another it will matter not if everyone here sees who I am,” he pulled his hood off. Helena instantly recognized the man.
“Missy’s father?”
“That’s not my father.”
“If you’re not Missy’s father who are you?”
“I’m nobody, this is where my power lies. I’m in the background pulling strings, controlling people, getting things done so our tribe can make money, our community can become richer, and no one here knows who I am. When I told you, I was The Grand Witch of The Society of the Draco, my title and my name is the same.”
“You’re saying nobody has been controlling my life?”
“Ironic isn’t it?” Grand Witch made a motion with his arms, four cloaked figures approached the center. “I tire of this and time is money we need to begin the ritual. With or without you this is going to happen,” two men skulked behind Helena grabbed her by the elbows. Another two men walked behind the St. Andrew’s Cross and spun it around Missy’s back now to the pool. “We need a blood sacrifice, one way or another you’re going to be involved. You can be the giver or the taker.”
“I refuse to take anyone’s blood!” Helena stood resolute as possible with her jaw set.
“Would you change your mind if I told you that your father and mother worked for me? Your father’s grand expedition went missing locating this dagger,” he thrust the blade into the air.
“Liar,” Helena’s lip began to quiver.
Two of the men pushed the St. Andrew’s Cross closer to the edge, once the wheels were properly located they activated two levers dropping the cross, Missy’s head suspended over the pool. The other two men pulled Helena next to the cross. The Mister Nobody began chanting in an utterly incomprehensible language reading off a scroll.
“You should stop, Sister Ping is playing you for a fool. Chinese dragons aren’t like European dragons. You’re playing with a culture you will never be able to understand,” Doyle said still laying on the side on the pool deck.
“We know our dragons, we’ve done our research. We will use this Dragon to control the seas and destroy our enemies, we will make millions.”
“You’re going to destroy us all. That was Sister Ping’s plan all along,” Doyle added.
“Why am I arguing with a commoner? Two of you come shut him up, forcefully if you must,” two more figures came from along the wall grabbed Doyle by his elbows and drug him away.
“Now where was I... Oh yes,” the man began chanting again rising the dagger over Missy’s throat, she started screaming envisioning her impending doom clasped firmly over her head. The man with no name slashed the blade down towards Missy’s throat. Helena and Missy both screamed at the top of their lungs, but the man missed Missy.
“Did I forget to mention that your parents are both alive and still working for us? You come and slit this young lady’s throat, and I’ll tell you how to find them,” the man held the dagger out in front of himself handle pointed towards Helena.
“Liar! My parents would never work with someone like you.”
“Are you sure? Do you really understand anything about your parents? I know more about your parents than anyone has ever been willing to tell you. I understand their secret research. Met anyone else who knows about that or is willing to talk about it?”
Helena speaking through her tears, shrugged off the two strongmen holding her back, and moved closer to the man with no name. �
�How can I believe you’re telling the truth?” As she inched nearer to the contraption of captivity.
The man rolled his head, working to keep his composure, “I promise I’m telling the truth. Listen, cross my heart hope to die, stick a needle in my eye,” saying the children’s poem directed the motion with the sacrificial dagger in his right hand, “Is that good enough? Now climb up on top of Missy here and do your best to slit her throat with one clean swipe when I finish the chant. Afterwards, the first thing I’ll do is tell you everything I know about your parents, and I’ll order the dragon to rescue them.”
Helena began climbing onto Missy. “I am so sorry Missy. I must find my parents. If there’s any chance, he knows something I’ve got to do this,” she gingerly rested her knees on Missy’s arms, her feet placed on the cross, underneath Missy’s body.
Missy began screaming and bucking attempting to throw Helena into the water.
“That’a girl. Now don’t slit her throat until I give you the signal. We don’t want anything happening prematurely,” he handed her the ancient dagger and Helena couldn’t take it.
“Come on... Is this a dagger which I see before me? Take the knife, your parents await!” he motioned for her to take the weapon.
Helena relented and took the dagger clutching it in both hands over Missy’s bare throat. “Close your eyes Missy I’ll make it as quick as possible,” tears running down Helena’s face mixed with Missy’s.
Missy was losing her voice from screaming so much. The fear becoming overwhelming she did everything in her power to buck Helena’s small frame off her body and failed.
The nondescript man with no name picked up the chant again. Every eye in the room except Missy’s and Helena’s, glued to the man with the scroll, chanting to summon a Dragon, in a language that nobody understood. The mantra continued to build in crescendo, the man in black moving closer to ensure that Helena would strike at the correct time. When he came to the point where blood was meant to flow, he took his right thumb and jabbed it towards his throat like an ancient Roman Emperor.
Missy went silent, fainted cold. Helena followed the cue perfectly trusting the dagger as quickly as she could. Right into the unknown man’s left eye, crashing through his skull, piercing his brain. Just as rapidly she pulled it out spraying the man’s blood into the pool. The four men standing guard were shocked at the brutality of her attack and started backing away. Helena jumped off Missy ready to fight anyone who came within striking distance.
Pretty Waiter Girls Page 19
