Flight of the Phoenix

by Melanie Thompson

  Bryn grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Be careful what you say. The walls have ears. Just be packed and ready to go.”

  Quinn held up the velvet bag containing the charm that would enable them to make love. “This is all I’m carrying. We came with nothing, we leave with nothing.”

  Heat rushed into Bryn’s face. She kissed him and the kiss rapidly grew dangerous. When she broke it off, they were both panting. “Do not show that to anyone.”

  Quinn grinned as he shoved it back into his pocket. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I do not plan to let it out of my sight or to allow it to leave my person.”

  She led him into the control room, still warm from his kiss. Sam and Tures stood together by the pedestals with the swirling globes. Fenix sat in one of the leather chairs staring out of the huge windows. Bryn knew Tomlinson and his new buddy, Brighthouse, would be in the engine room absorbing as much of the cutting edge technology they could hold. “Where are we?” Bryn asked Tures.

  “Ten miles north of the river. I’m setting the ship on the bottom and letting some of my crew members out to feed. This is a heavily jungled area. There will be plenty of game and few humans to tempt them from their vows.”

  “What happens if they break those vows?”

  “True death,” Tures said in a flat voice. “And after a taste of immortality, that is a terrible threat.”

  Bryn flinched. The vampires must be starving but beyond baring their fangs once in a while, they’d never shown any aggression. They’d been running for five days including the pickup day and the fight with Priest. It hadn’t occurred to her that the vampires would be hungry. She stared intently at Tures and noticed the vampire’s cheeks were hollow and her eyes sunk into their sockets, but her skin was pink. She also noticed Sam’s blush. Tures had fed off her. Bryn read it in her expression and the sudden flare of desire. Sam’s expressions and moods were well known to Bryn. They’d been friends and lovers for over a century.

  “Then we should be at Loango to disembark tomorrow?” Bryn asked Tures.

  Tures shook her head. “I’m not stopping there. We will travel upriver to Matadi. I have a place to dock the ship there and the next two hundred twenty miles of the river are nothing but rapids and falls ending in Zongo Falls. We’ll take the Congo Railway which was just finished to Leopoldville where a missionary friend of Father Antonio’s works in the mission. He’ll book us on a steamship upriver as far as Stanley Falls Station where Stanley Falls breaks the river. At that point, the terrain will get very rough. The jungle is thick and the mountains spring out of the forest with rocky outcroppings and rock falls that require traversing or avoiding. One must know which is which.”

  “How do you plan to travel? Do you use bearers or need a guide?”

  Tures shook her head, smiled and her fangs popped into view. Bryn shuddered. Tures had extremely long, sharp canines. The sight of Tures with her fangs extended was terrifying.

  “Bearers we shall surely need, but guides no,” Tures said. “I have traveled this route many times.”

  As the ship slowly settled on the sea floor, Bryn moved to gaze in awe out of the huge windows with Fenix. She looked up and took Bryn’s hand. “Amazing, is it not?”

  The number of fish swirling around the ship was truly amazing. Sharks swam by lazily, large wide-mouthed fish, schools of shiny small fish and even several dolphins. The wild life fascinated all of them. A sudden burst of bubbles announced the opening of the hatch. A group of crew members including Father Antonio and Tures, who had disappeared from her post by the globes, shot past the windows so fast it was impossible to figure out which was which.

  “Pack whatever you have you can take,” Bryn told Sam and Fenix. And make sure Brighthouse is ready to go as well.”

  “Why is he going?” Sam asked.

  “He’s interested in the fuel source. And we can’t leave him here, now, can we?”

  Fenix shuddered. “They’d surely eat him.”

  Chapter 10

  When the vampires returned from their hunting trip, Tures took them to the mouth of the deep and wide Congo River. The ship surfaced and Bryn climbed to the top of the dome where there was a balcony wrapping around the deck for viewing. She stood on it feeling the damp, hot air of the Congo River basin ruffling her hair. The twin stacks of the submarine belched black smoke as the engine crew poured coal into the box to save the precious concentrated fuel they used when traveling underwater.

  Huge sandbars filled the mouth of the river. Tures carefully guided her ship through the maze of channels until they reached open water. The banks were green with thick jungle. They steamed past small villages on each side of the river until a bay opened up on the left bank. Three ships were docked in the bay and numerous smaller vessels plied the waters, either fishing or carrying people across the river and back and forth from the anchored ships.

  Tures called down to the crew. The anchors front and back were dropped, and the jolly boats on each side of the ship were lowered into the slowly swirling murky water and secured.

  “We leave at dusk,” Tures said. “Traveling during the day is possible but very stressful for some of my crew members. The night train to Kinshasa leaves at eight and takes seven hours to get to Leopoldville. There, Father Antonio and the more susceptible will remain until we return for them.”

  “Why take them at all?” Bryn asked.

  “I may need them. They are fierce warriors as I’m sure you can imagine. Bakari and Edfu will accompany me as well as five others I’ve known for many years. They are almost as old as I and can bear the light of the sun even at these latitudes.”

  Quinn, Fenix, Tomlinson, Brighthouse, Fingle, Sam and Tures climbed into one of the boats with Bryn. Several vampires including Father Antonio, the two Egyptians, Bakari and Edfu, and three other crew members climbed into the second boat. They set off for the shore where Tures sent both boats back to the sub.

  “We take the Matadi-Kinshasa train from here,” she said as her crew members hefted all the baggage she planned to take. They trekked, Tures in the lead, down a worn dirt trail to the train station where a train pulled by a small steam locomotive was loading. Three passenger cars sat behind the fuel car and the tanker. Quinn led Bryn and Fenix to one of the cars and helped them aboard. There was no glass in the open windows and the bench seats were very hard. When the train started they were heartily glad of the open windows. Even without the sun shining, it was sweltering and the hot breeze blowing in the windows was welcome. The night wind carried the familiar scents of Africa; moist, strange vegetation, exotic spices, human body odor and animal dung. Bryn breathed deeply as memories of distant times flooded her. It had been a thousand years since she’d been here, but it was a place you never forgot.

  The car they occupied quickly cleared out when Tures, her vampires and Father Antonio boarded. It was as though the local people sensed they were blood drinkers.

  Goats, crates of chickens, skinny dogs and small naked children filled the next car along with very black women wearing sarong-like dresses that did not cover their breasts, and men wearing even less. It was hard to blame them for their lack of clothing. Bryn rarely suffered from the heat, probably because of her Egyptian heritage. Quinn looked cool and calm, Fenix the same, while Brighthouse’s face was turkey-wattle red. He mopped the steady stream of sweat from his balding pate with a red handkerchief. Tomlinson and Sam were riding with the engineer in the locomotive examining the engine and watching it run. They possessed a never-ending curiosity about steam power in all its forms.

  “Get comfortable,” Tures said. “We have a long ride ahead of us.”

  The train trip lasted most of the night. They rolled into the newly-constructed station in Kinshasa around four in the morning. Tures hustled them out of the train and into the streets. It was dark. Nobody stirred in this river town. Suddenly, out of the sky a dark shadow appeared. Bryn’s heart pounded. For a terrible moment, she’d thought Priest in his dragon form had arrived in the town ahead
of them.

  The shape landed lightly in front of Tures, and she saw it was a vampire. The vampire was a black man. When he saw them, his fangs appeared. Tures laid one long-fingered hand on the vampire’s bare chest and stopped him. “These people are with me. Take us to the ship.”

  She turned to Bryn. “This is not one of my crew members. He lives by killing so be careful and do not trust him.”

  The vampire’s evil intent radiated from him. Only Fenix seemed indifferent to it. She looked around as though she’d just stepped out of a carriage on a Parisian street. Quinn wrapped his arm around Bryn’s shoulder as they wound through the dusty alleys, between shacks and small compounds, as they slowly made their way to the river.

  Kinshasa was on the south bank of the Congo. The train station had been built close to the river. Many travelers going up river used the railway. It was considered a portage railway as it circumvented two hundred miles of rapids, waterfalls and shallow water.

  The sullen vampire’s name was Kimbo. His eyes glowed white in his black face and whenever they came out of the shadows and into the moonlight, they glowed with a red light. He appeared alarmingly well-fed. His cheeks were full and his face round. Only his eyes reflected his extreme hunger. He yearned for their blood. The presence of Tures and the two Egyptian vampires was the only thing that kept him from attacking them.

  The river was black and as smooth as glass. The boat waiting for them had two stacks and a stern wheel. Sam and Tomlinson, closely followed by Brighthouse, scrambled on board and immediately descended to the engine room to examine this new steam-powered engine. Bryn was exhausted.

  They were met by the captain, another black man, this one human. He stood scowling at them from under a broad hat. He wore a baggy pair of tan pants and no shirt. Tures spoke briefly to him, passing him a cloth bag that jingled with coins. “Your staterooms are on the upper deck,” she said. In an under-voice, she whispered to Bryn. “My crew will sleep below. This captain has carried us before and has a room protected from light. Please keep a watch over Captain Okoro. He is only so trustworthy.” She glanced up at Quinn including him in her request.

  Brynn nodded and watched her disappear below. The Joseph Conrad was a Belgian boat. As soon as they were aboard, crew members in tattered clothing drew in the ramp and the boat steamed into the river. Quinn took her arm and ushered her up rickety steps to their room. The sun was cresting the horizon to the east as the boat entered a huge lake. The damp air clung to Bryn’s body and brought back memories of Africa from her early days. She’d been gone a very long time.

  “This is a wild land,” Quinn said as he flopped onto a bed with a copious amount of mosquito nets encasing it on all sides.

  Bryn batted at the netting irritably. “It seems everything here wants to drink our blood.”

  Quinn laughed. “How long will we be on this boat?”

  “I imagine at least a week. We are taking the river all the way to Stanleyville where we pick up bearers and head for the mountains.”

  Quinn smiled and grabbed her around the waist. “We are together, safe from Priest and on an adventure. Smile, my darling.”

  Bryn allowed him to embrace her. “Don’t be too sure we’re safe from Priest. He knows Africa and he knows where Kivunjo originated. Probably better than we do.”

  * * * *

  Priest gave up trying to track the undersea vessel holding Bryn and her sister. He knew where they were going. They sought Kivunjo. He flew in long lazy legs across the huge deserts of North Africa, hunting as a dragon, eating as a dragon eats. The voice in his head was relentless. Malenfant pressed him to find victims for his insatiable appetites and Priest, who had never been reluctant to kill before, suddenly grew saintly, refusing to even alight in a city. He delighted in remaining resolute in his refusal to find Malenfant victims for his perverse pleasure. Halfway across the desert, Malenfant went into hiding and stopped haranguing Priest’s every moment. Draak gloated, thinking he’d finally rid himself of his parasite.

  He flew across dense jungle for two days eating well. The jungle provided him with good hunting. When he landed in Stanley Falls Station, he morphed into a young priest and headed for the St. Bridget Mission. As he stepped out into the bright sunlight, the familiar, nagging whine of Cardinal Malenfant echoed in his head. “I see you finally stopped playing dragon. Now we can find us a nice, innocent woman. While you find one, I will think of some unique ways in which to defile her.”

  Hideous chuckling filled Priest’s head and he grabbed his hair. “Stop! If we kill one girl will you leave me alone?”

  A feeling of warm satisfaction filled his head and belly. Malenfant’s emotions were gaining more and more control. Apparently, while Malenfant had been quiet, he’d been gaining strength. Priest almost wanted to kill and torture a woman.

  After he located the primitive mission and attended mass, Priest did as Malenfant desired and haunted the waterfront searching for a woman of easy virtue. There was only one seedy inn and a crude saloon. As the sun slowly set over the river, the calm water blazed with the golden and orange glow of a glorious sunset.

  Hot, humid air blanketed Priest. His cassock clung to his legs and back. He’d never felt less like having sex in his life. While he should be rampantly horny, he only had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t sure what Malenfant planned, but knew it would be horrible.

  An emaciated local woman approached him and gave him a sly smile. “Father priest, want to lie with a woman?”

  She wore a colorful sarong over her loins, but her flat dugs hung slackly on her narrow chest. Her skin should have been a lustrous inky black but was only ashy. She had several open sores on her face. Priest felt sorry for her but felt no desire. She was obviously unhealthy. Malenfant pushed him. “Yes, take this one back to the mission. We will torture her in front of the altar while the nuns and holy fathers sleep.”

  Priest had been prepared to do Malenfant’s bidding, but for some reason this suggestion was so offensive, it hardened his resolve to never relent and perform for Malenfant. He lifted his arms, said the words, and morphed into his dragon form right in front of the terrified woman. Malenfant began screaming inside his head. The shrieks were those of an insane man and Priest bared his dragon teeth in a parody of a smile. Foiling Malenfant’s perverted desires was almost as satisfying as futtering a beautiful woman. He thought of Bryn and remembered her white skin, soft round breasts and thick, silky black hair. He would wait for her to slake his appetites and try to think of a way to exorcise Malenfant. He could never be with Bryn or enjoy her luscious body as long as Malenfant inhabited his brain. To be forced to share her with the evil cardinal would be a travesty. He shuddered at the notion.

  As he took flight above the jungle on the north bank of the river, he had an idea. Maybe the witch doctor could use the dagger of Lazarus to rid him of Malenfant’s evil spirit. He blew a blast of fire into the tops of the tall trees. A heavy rainfall quickly extinguished the flames, but not before several monkeys died. Priest swooped down and scooped the charred creatures into his maw crunching happily. He had a plan. The only problem he could foresee was whether to capture Bryn and her sister before or after he exorcised Malenfant. He really did not want the evil Cardinal to spoil his pleasure.

  Chapter 11

  The riverboat ride flew by for Fenix. She was comfortable; a minimum number of flying insects pestered her, she had satisfying food and could bathe. Africa was a nightmare.

  As they steamed into Stanley Falls Station early in the evening, Tures and her crew of night creatures stood on the rail watching the dock come into view. A small herd of hippos waded slowly out of the water on the south bank to graze. A row of crocodiles lay on the north bank close to the dock. Fenix ignored the wildlife. Africa was crawling with all kinds of strange creatures. One soon grew accustomed to it. A cluster of fishing boats was drawn up on the bank on the other side of the dock and the hulk of a small steamboat that had sunk sat in the shallows sho
wed only its one smokestack and part of the bow. The cataracts making up the last of the seven falls on the Lualaba River, a tributary of the Congo, roared in the distance.

  Behind them, an island rose out of the mists. Several buildings sat on the island which was where Stanley Falls Station started. A dock poked into the river from the island with a steamboat tied to it bobbing in the wake from the Joseph Conrad.

  They were getting closer and closer to Kivunjo’s village. Soon Bryn would use the dagger to end her curse. Lazarus had whispered to Fenix in the night and filled her ears with words of love and insight. She now understood Bryn in a way she could never have done before Lazarus had entered her life and changed it forever.

  The steamboat docked and everyone trooped off into the village of Stanley Falls Station. It was just a collection of huts with thatched roofs. A saloon and hotel were among the only substantial structures. Faded wood with rusted metal roofing and a sign announcing the Wagenia Falls Inn.

  Tures hiked right by the inn and down a dirt track leading into the rural areas surrounding the town. They passed a mission which was little more than a hut and Fenix lagged behind. She wanted Bryn to end her curse, but this trip was becoming endless. Bryn dropped back to talk to her. “I think Tures plans to set off for the mountains right now.”

  “I’m tired,” Fenix said. “Tired of traveling, tired of Africa. I remember the stench from the last time I was here, and the heat. I long for Paris. It’s winter there. Soon it will be Christmas, and everything will be lighted and smell like evergreens.”

  Bryn stared at her out of cold eyes. “My plight means nothing to you?”

  Fenix sighed. “Of course I wish to help you end the curse. It is also my curse, but I can remember everything now and you’ve been dragging us all over the world for centuries in this quest and have only managed to make things worse. I yearn for blood, Bryn. I live half in and half out of the world of the vampires. There are times when I want to feed on humans and it’s torture to smell them around me.”