“Really? This isn’t a ploy to get me into the safe room?” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and spilled onto the stony floor.
“It is the truth, Granddaughter. Now please, for your man and me, go inside the safe room. You have everything to live for now.”
Blossom gave him a final hug and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you, Grandfather. Be careful. Promise me you’ll be okay.”
He hesitated. “I promise. Now go.”
He led her to a section of wall covered with a beautiful but faded mural of a buffalo hunt. He touched his hand to the hunter’s spearhead, and the rock slid back. Blossom stepped inside.
“I love you, Grandfather.”
“I know, Blossom.”
The rock moved back into place, and the old medicine man conjured a blazing fire in the pit. He was alone now, except for the ghostly company of long-departed friends.
The Santa Fe careened onto the private gravel road that led to Grandfather’s farm. A minute later, Crow spotted Grandfather’s house on the gray horizon. The wind whipped the tops of the cottonwood trees as the SUV fishtailed down the narrow road, leaving yellow dust clouds billowing in its wake. He had to hurry. The storm and demon were drawing near.
Suddenly, a monstrous gray form materialized on Grandfather’s front lawn. The demon swiveled its long neck, glared at the approaching SUV, and curled its lips back in a hostile snarl. It turned toward the house, tightened its muscles into intimidating knots beneath its pale-gray skin, and crashed through the front of the house.
Crow stomped on the brake pedal, and the Santa Fe skidded to a sideways stop. He jumped from the SUV, opened the rear hatchback door, and armed himself with the weapons he requested from Rance before he boarded the charter plane - a flamethrower, stun grenades, and an electrical prod powerful enough to stun and drop an elephant. Crow had learned from Nick’s previous battle with the demon: Rocket launchers didn’t do the trick.
Crow ignored the welcome mat and door and entered the house through the massive hole left in the front wall by the demon guardian. He encountered a crater in the living room floor where the demon entered the tunnels below. Crow ran to the back bedroom, located the ponderous, oak trap door beneath a brightly colored, braided rug, and tugged it open. He quickly descended the ladder down to the black tunnels. He waved his arms, and torches exploded into flame along the main passage. That was the extent of his magical ability.
The monster’s distant, godless roar echoed back to Crow, and a shiver raked his spine. He took several deep breaths, and then, with a single, rowdy war whoop, he charged through the flickering shadows toward the main ceremonial chamber.
Grandfather felt the demon’s presence long before its angry roar shook the tunnels. Armed with an ancient spear of polished oak that dripped eagle feathers, he waved the spearhead in circles above his head. The spearhead was deftly crafted from a magical stone. Grandfather chanted, stepped inside the concentric circles surrounding the fire pit, and awaited the advancing evil.
The Omaha medicine man tossed a handful of white powder into the roaring fire, and a monstrous jade flame erupted to the ceiling, curling and gyrating like a charmed cobra. Furious hissing and crackling filled the chamber and joined Grandfather’s wailing chants as his arthritic body danced around the sizzling serpent to the rhythmic beat of his voice.
The jade inferno dissolved to cobalt, and then burst into a swirling scarlet tornado. Grandfather stopped behind the fiery maelstrom and faced the chamber entrance. He raised the spear above his head, and the raging inferno crept from the pit and engulfed him. The temperature inside the conflagration swelled above 2,000 degrees, but Grandfather appeared impervious to it.
With a sudden motion, he lowered the spear, and his body absorbed the scorching firestorm in seconds.
The tall demon ducked its head beneath the entrance and entered the ancient ceremonial chamber. Its unblinking, murderous eyes sized up its opponent. It did not see an old man; it saw Blossom Smith, its chosen prey. Its protruding muzzle drooled thick threads of saliva as it anticipated the kill.
The demon charged the woman, its long, razor fangs bared and its claws extended. Grandfather waited until it was killing close, and then drove the magical spearhead deeply into the lunging demon. It writhed and howled painfully as it struggled to pull the energy-absorbing spear from its body. Blue electrical charges crackled and arced along the buried spear shaft, burning away its life force.
Its female opponent possessed surprising strength, but she was no match for its own power. It finally yanked the spear from its body, straightened to its full height, and charged her again. This time, it was deflected by a thin, force field that devoured more of its energy. The demon guardian thrashed wildly inside the invisible field, absorbing the shield’s agonizing energy drain as it continued toward the female elixir thief. Within minutes, it appeared inside the field where it drove its claws into the woman’s motionless form. Blood poured from her fatal wounds, splashing onto the chamber floor.
A blue mist rose from the puddled blood and enveloped its dying adversary. Just as the demon was poised to strike a deathblow, she faded into the mysterious fog like a vanishing mirage. The demon furiously searched for the dying woman thief, but she had been magically spirited away.
Although it was satisfied that the defiler had been destroyed, the demon was enraged that it had been denied its customary victory feast. Its hunger for human flesh intensified.
Crow sprinted into the chamber and stopped when he saw the hideous killer.
“C’mon, you ugly bastard, it’s time to die!” he shouted, and heaved a stun grenade at the demon.
The demon growled at the hostile intruder and easily sidestepped the grenade, but the shrapnel pierced its wound, and a blade of new pain sliced through its sensory system. With an earsplitting bellow, it faded from the chamber, its ebbing cries following it into an unknown realm.
“Blossom! Grandfather!” Crow shouted, as he inspected the ceremonial circles where the demon had stood. There was no sign of either Blossom or Grandfather, but there were substantial bloodstains beneath a thin, blue mist.
He shouted again, and again there was no response. He recalled the safe chamber from his numerous visits there with Grandfather and touched the mural spear. The wall was hot to touch, but it was still intact. Its magic was extremely powerful. No evil could pierce it.
The wall slid back. Blossom ran out and threw her arms around Crow’s neck.
“Where’s Grandfather?” she demanded, her face streaked with tears.
“Gone,” Crow replied unevenly, an emotional lump impeding his voice.
“Noooo,” she cried angrily, and her tears flowed again.
“It’s all right,” Crow said, attempting to calm her. “He’s gone to the Happy Hunting Ground where he can reminisce with his old friends.”
“But I want him here with us.”
“I know, I know – but at least his sacrifice got the guardian off your back.”
Blossom pulled away and looked around the chamber. “Where’s his . . . body?”
“You have so much to learn about our ways,” he said softly. “The gods claimed Grandfather’s body before the demon guardian could desecrate it on our sacred ground.”
As they headed back toward the farmhouse, Crow felt the hollowness inside him for the departed, old medicine man. Life was going to be very different from now on. Without Grandfather’s vigilance and support, Crow would have to depend on his own instincts and ingenuity whenever he got in a jam, and that notion scared the hell out of him.
“Where’s that damn demon?” Blossom asked, after they climbed inside the SUV.
“Gone,” he replied simply, as he guided the Santa Fe into the driving rain toward Walthill.
“Where?”
“Probably back to Florida to lick its wounds.”
They drove in silence, each with their own private thoughts.
Crow bemoaned the fact that he hadn’t had the opport
unity to slay the demon, because after it healed, the thing would certainly hunt and kill its next victims. He planned to powwow with Nick as soon as possible to see if they could devise a way to put it out of business.
His hands clenched the steering wheel. He contemplated Nick’s purported special gifts. If he really possessed extraordinary abilities, now was the time to use them. With Gabriella gone, Nick appeared to be the world’s only savior. If he failed to dispatch the demon guardian, the human race was in a heap of trouble.
32
T
he limousine cornered sharply onto Pennsylvania Avenue, tossing Nick across the slick, burgundy leather seat.
“What’s your hurry?” Nick shouted at the driver through the opening separating the driver from his passenger. Nick wasn’t pleased about returning to Washington DC with another failed operation to report, and his maniac limo driver certainly wasn’t improving his dark mood.
The Arab’s eyes appeared in the rearview mirror. “You have important meeting to catch. I instructed to bring you to J. Edgar Hoover Building quick. You no can be late,” the man replied, a smile splitting his olive complexion.
Nick fell back and exhaled sharply. “Don’t remind me,” he grumbled as his satellite phone rang.
“Bellamy,” he stated dryly.
“Crow.”
Nick perked up. “What’s up, Chief?”
“Good news and bad news, paleface.”
Nick closed his eyes. “Start with the bad.”
“Grandfather’s dead,” Crow proclaimed bitterly.
Nick stiffened at the terrible news. “How?” he asked quietly, his eyes watery.
“That damn demon guardian, that’s how.” He paused. “I don’t have any details. I didn’t get there in time to help Grandfather defend himself. But I did look that ugly son-of-a-bitch straight in the eye before it faded into thin air. It’s pure evil, man. Pure fuckin’ evil.”
Disappearing into thin air. How was the demon doing that? “Don’t blame yourself, Crow,” Nick said consolingly.
“Oh yeah? Who else is there to blame?” he countered angrily.
“Blame me. I’ve managed to screw everything else up lately.”
“Maybe I will,” Crow snapped.
“What about Blossom?”
“Safe with me.”
“How’d Grandfather pull that off?”
“I wish I knew, but I have this feeling that the demon guardian won’t come after her again. She’s in the clear.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Where you headed?”
“I’m taking Blossom to see Clay in Tampa. I thought it was about time.”
“Good.”
“Any word on his condition?”
“When I left, he was conscious and voicing his complaints about the menu. He didn’t understand why the hospital didn’t serve pizza.”
“Well, we’re catching the next flight to Tampa—damn the expense, Boss,” Crow informed Nick.
“Fine.”
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“What’s the matter, Custer? You sound more down than your usual funk.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“No, I’m serious. Anything Geronimo or I can do?”
“This is even beyond your combined resources.”
“Tell me about it. We’ve come across some weird shit before.”
“It’s just that everything that’s been happening doesn’t add up.”
“You mean the fountain of youth, the shit-head demon, and the stolen poison?”
“Right. There’s something I’m missing. Something that connects all this. I can feel it,” Nick explained. “And then there’s Alick Tobhor.”
“That ancient magician you told me about? The one in your dream?”
“Not a dream. Remote viewing,” Nick corrected.
“Yeah, whatever. What’s he got to do with it?”
“That’s what bothers me. I just don’t know. I don’t have enough info to pull the case threads together, but I have a hunch that Tobhor’s a key player in all of this.”
“Oh, I’ve got it now. Tobhor’s terrified expression in your remote viewing episode is eating at you.”
“I guess.”
“You guess, my red ass!”
“All right!” Nick exclaimed. “It’s bugging the hell out of me. I think we’re up against someone or something more powerful than the demon guardian. Someone or something who’s manipulating this whole series of events.”
“Even the terrorists?”
Silence.
“Hey, Nick, you still there?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well?”
“Maybe even the terrorists,” he agreed finally.
“That’s pretty far-fetched, even for a white boy,” Crow said thoughtfully.
“So was the Creeper.”
“You got a point there.”
The limousine screeched to a halt inside the parking garage, and the driver leaped out and tugged Nick’s door open.
“I’ve got to meet with Rance now,” Nick said in a low voice.
“Got any ideas how to find this bad guy?”
“My brain’s working on a plan.”
“I’ll be around if you need me.”
“Thanks. I might take a drive over to Duneden and pick the brains of a few old residents.”
“Going fossil hunting, huh?” For an instant, Crow’s notorious sense of humor breached his grief.
Nick managed a taut smile himself. “Call me when you get to Tampa. I want Blossom and Clay in Duneden as soon as possible where we can protect them from . . . whatever.”
“What about me?”
“You’re their bodyguard.”
“What! You want this Injun to stay in that witch town again? Have you lost your marbles, Nick?”
“Hey, get off the warpath. You survived there last year.”
“Barely.”
“Stay at Gabriella’s manor - you know the drill there. It’s the safest place I know.” Nick hung up and stared uneasily at the looming entrance to the bleak J. Edgar Hoover Building. Rance Osborne was not going to be a happy camper. If Nick was forced to choose a winner in a fight between the irate FBI director and the murderous demon guardian, he’s bet the farm on Rance.
33
N
ick hesitated outside Rance Osborne’s newly remodeled office, then slowly opened the door. Gone were the garish stainless-steel and mirrored walls, the vanilla carpeting, the lavish wet bar, the polished infinity box backing the liquor bottles, and the futuristic computer and security system control panel that had been built into the late Director Anderson’s desktop. Now the walls were paneled with lustrous teak and adorned with nautical antiques, including a seventeenth century sextant, fifteenth century Mediterranean navigational charts expensively framed, a Civil War gunboat anchor, and a Norse tiller. Rance’s sprawling desk was fashioned from several pieces of hoary driftwood and finished with several coats of a burnished lacquer. Rance was dwarfed in the oversized and overstuffed captain’s chair that resembled a royal throne, while his two guests sat uncomfortably in Spartan chairs, also fashioned from driftwood.
From the Jetsons to Captain Ahab. That’s how Nick instantly appraised the radical change of décor as all gazes leaped in his direction as he stepped inside Rance’s nautical museum. Nick strode confidently to an empty chair fronting Rance’s desk and sat down without invitation despite President Hanover’s disapproving, cobalt stare.
“Nick,” Rance boomed. “I believe you know everyone here.”
Nick quickly shook hands with President Shelton Hanover and National Security Adviser, Larry Winnows. He merely tossed a nod in Rance’s direction. The FBI director had sharp, clean-shaven facial lines, piercing brown eyes, a trim physique, and a penchant for expensively tailored clothes.
“I’ll get right to the point,” Rance informed the group. “We’re confronted with an internatio
nal emergency situation of the highest order.”
The President leaned forward. “Although my wife, Leann, has just been pronounced clean of the alien virus she ingested yesterday, several other world leaders’ wives suffered the same fate and remain infected.” He paused to restrain the tirade that lurked on the tip of his tongue. “Obviously, the Europeans were easy targets for the terrorists because of their lax security measures,” he stated grimly, “but I’d like to hear why our sophisticated and informed security agencies failed to protect the First Lady of the United States!” He slammed his hand on Rance’s desk.
Shelton Hanover was in his early fifties and a longtime politician. He was six feet six, broad shouldered, and possessed a face that invoked both fear and compassion. Many political opponents and prominent members of the press compared his toughness and appearance to that of a World Wrestling Federation star, but only in fun. Hanover was a powerful Washington figure whose influence was far-reaching. Insults and threats were dealt with swiftly through the Washington underground, and his enemies often found themselves unemployable for years. However, people overlooked Hanover’s quick temper and bullying tactics in Congress, because he was a can-do politician who inspired voter confidence with his firm, decisive actions and a commonsense approach to the country’s problems. He was elected twice in a landslide.
“There is no excuse for it,” Nick lied quickly, although he was aware of several, legitimate factors that triggered the security failure. It was best not to argue with Hanover. There was no future in it.
“Of course, Shelton, my people are looking into the matter as we speak,” Rance promptly added, scowling at Nick. “Nick has organized a task force to study the problem.”
Nick nodded earnestly, although he was unaware of any such investigative group.
“When you’ve got that report in your hands, Rance, I’d better see it before the ink dries!” Hanover shouted. “By God, heads will roll on this one.”
Nick cleared his throat. “I believe our time would be better spent discovering why the terrorists targeted the wives of those specific world leaders, and what these terrorists hoped to gain by infecting those women with that one chemical.”
The Ancient Breed Page 21
