Clara smirked while she continued to pace. She would give him a few moments to recover, because she needed him to be coherent enough to answer questions.
“Well, Colonel?” Clara asked.
The fire in the man’s eyes grew in intensity. Clara watched as the fires of hell claimed all sanity and reason within. Now things were getting interesting.
“Bell,” Clara said.
This time, Clara did not even bother to look. The smaller one sent the Colonel head-first into the mud in one smooth motion. Now he was beginning to get the idea.
“We can play this game all evening Colonel,” Clara said. “Right now, my girls are under orders not to hurt you.”
Clara did not need to add anything to that statement. This man had either bought his commission or worked his way through the ranks; either way he was no fool.
“What do you want?” Colonel Blythe asked.
“You mean you don’t know?” Clara asked while her voice oozed with sarcasm. “Girls! Didn’t you pass on my personal invitation for tea and crumpets?”
“No, Miss Grey,” they said in unison.
“What do you want!” the Colonel barked.
She had to laugh at his attempt to establish dominance. Perhaps it was time for her to show that her authority was not only ordained but earned.
It took a few minutes of laboured effort for him to get back on his feet. Before he could blink, Clara was holding a straight razor a hair’s width from the base of his larynx.
Once he sensed the blade against his days old beard, he immediately looked towards the sky to avoid being cut. Clara however maintained control over the blade even while the cool steel glistened in the moonlight.
“If I wanted you dead,” Clara said. “You would have woken up in front of the Pearly Gates wondering how you’d arrived.”
Sophie pulled out a little silver triangle that German snipers used to monitor casualties on the battlefield. If a casualty moved, the triangle would glisten in the light and draw sniper fire. The Colonel knew exactly what this object represented and what the implications were.
“Instead I had them bring you here so we could have a little chat,” Clara said. “Now why is that?”
“You want something,” the Colonel said.
“Very good,” Clara said.
Meanwhile she pressed the blade in just enough so that a trickle of blood ran down to his collar. That would let him know that he was not out of the woods yet.
The Colonel was stiff as an ironing board; it surprised her that he was not shaking like a leaf. Clara kept a close eye on him, waiting for some sort of response.
“She was so beautiful,” Colonel Blythe said with a cracking voice.
“Who was?” Clara asked, but suspected that Gladys was the answer.
“She never told me her name,” the Colonel said. “Met her one night at the officers’ mess. An angel surrounded by every officer in the room. When—Once I walked in, she only had eyes for me—,” he rambled on.
The rest of his sob story revolved around the trivial theft of his heart followed by threatening to tear it apart if he did not do exactly as asked. The rumours of his infidelity would lead to a divorce, which meant the loss of lands and title back home.
Had this been the first time such a tale of woe reached her ears, Clara may have been tempted to feel an iota of pity. Everyone needed someone’s company from time to time, even just to forget the horrors encountered. However, ignoring everything that an officer and a gentleman was expected to uphold? That was another matter entirely.
This man had betrayed not only Edith, but everyone else under his authority. A wounded soldier deemed a threat to her could have been administered an overdose of morphine. The power of a CO in time of war was near absolute, and tonight Clara was going to remind him of the consequences.
There was no way to determine the damage this man’s indiscretions had caused. He would never expose himself nor accept any blame for his actions. It was always easier to blame someone else than accept responsibility.
“—Could not help myself,” the Colonel said. “Please forgive me!” he pleaded.
Clara moved her blade away then turned to observe the battle. She watched intently as the firefights grew bolder and that meant men would soon scale the walls in an attempt to gain an inch of land. In a couple of hours, casualties would come pouring in.
Clara turned back to face the Colonel then leaned in close. So close that he could feel her lips tremble.
“I could have been there for you,” Clara whispered so faintly that she sounded far away. “I would have made you come so many times that you’d pray for me to stop,” she added with growing intensity.
Colonel Blythe’s eyes widened while his heart pounded with excitement. Clara had no doubt that her words would have him to rise to the occasion… how typical of a man.
“Instead you sold me out to some blonde number who offered you a dream,” Clara said. “It was pride that changed angels into demons; it is humility that makes men soar with the angels,” Clara added.
The louder her words became, the more distant she was from him. There was something about her mannerisms that would have chilled the mood at an orgy. The Colonel was beginning to realise just how much trouble he was in.
“What did she offer in trade?” Clara asked. “A piece of tail or the promise of a longer life?”
Why else risk his career, title and wealth for a beautiful woman? Women like that were generally relegated to trysts or brought on as mistresses. Wives even tolerated their husbands playing the field as long as they were discreet, but these actions were anything but.
“I—I—Er,” he said.
Clara was growing weary of his games, so she drew her sidearm and trained the weapon on him. Once she cocked back the hammer, the Colonel knew he no longer had any leeway.
“More life,” Colonel Blythe said through sobs.
This man, defeated and broken, collapsed onto the mud while sobbing uncontrollably. Clara merely glanced at Sophie who responded by landing a blow at the base of his neck. Just like that, he went silent, oblivious to the world and the nightmare unfolding just a couple of miles away.
Without direction, Bell silently secured his arms and legs. The girls then walked down the ridge to the lorry and drove away.
It was not up to her or anyone else from her order to judge another human. People were often used as pawns while others were victims in their own right. Many were easily seduced, which explained why sexuality was a weapon wielded by both sides.
After a half an hour of travel, they reached the remains of that burnt-out farmhouse. While Sophie and Bell changed back into their nurses’ uniforms, Clara picked up a field phone.
She wound the handle several times, and then picked up the receiver. After a brief exchange, she hung up and sat down on the remnants of a bed.
Clara closed her eyes, and heard artillery strikes moving closer and closer to their position. They eventually erupted in a volley so powerful that the farmhouse shook.
“Fire for effect,” Clara whispered.
Perhaps the Colonel could not be judged by those in her order. However, that did not mean she could not nudge fate in the right direction. Many survived artillery strikes and if God wished it, he would make it through.
Clara guessed that God would not intervene tonight. There were many who deserved to live under the grace of God that would end up run through with a bayonet or cut down by machine gun fire. Saint Peter would be busy admitting entire companies tonight.
From the ground, God appeared to be absent from this part of the world. Until he chose to pass his wisdom down to his flock, Clara and her ilk would have to look after his best interests.
“Safe travel, girls,” Clara said before they left.
With their mission complete, Clara watched as they melted into the night. She then pulled out the sealed envelope that bore the Reverend Mother’s insignia. As ordered, she had not even looked at it until her mission w
as complete.
Without a second thought she pulled out a knife and cut through the envelope’s top. Inside, she found a simple sheet of folded paper.
“Great,” Clara muttered. “Time to babysit.”
RAIDERS AND TOMBS
1916
For weeks, Clara had been trudging through sand and dust. This arid and sun bleached land was a new experience and in her opinion, the perfect stand-in for one of the seven levels of hell.
Like Europe, war was no stranger to these lands. Occasionally, she came across abandoned battlefields, some buried by the sands of time, while others bore fresh scars of modern warfare. Had they gained anything by unleashing such carnage?
Clara had been assigned to an expedition, exploring the ruins of a city abandoned for over six-hundred years. Specifically, their interests were centred on an abandoned portal site.
Why had a portal been built here? Some gates existed for obvious reasons, there were always portals leading to Paris or London. These were major cities of colonial powers that provided access to vast populations.
While this city had been the centre of a revived Sumerian culture, that was true for a comparatively short time. Curious that this gate appeared to have been used well after the city had been lost in the desert.
Clara kept an eye out for anything out of the ordinary; ghouls, djinn, and angels of death were all creatures of myth that originated from this part of the world. The fact that vampires and Georgians were also interested in this region only heightened her suspicions.
On this particular day, they were searching the ruins of a structure of great religious significance; Clara supposed that it functioned in much the same way that cathedrals did today.
“A ziggurat,” Professor Jones said.
Clara had never dealt with Professor Jones before this mission. Under his tan clothing and pith helmet, there was a man with a chiselled jaw and a day-old beard. His roguish good looks would have been a diversion to blossoming girls. That alone might explain why he instructed male students exclusively.
“Quite right,” Father Allen replied.
Father Allen was the team archivist and a fixture at the Tower’s numerous libraries and archives. His thick glasses, pale skin and balding head made him seem inoffensive. Clara guessed that many underestimated him based on his appearance.
Clara looked at the pile of rocks while Father Allen sketched out the site. Today was an especially warm day. The world shimmered in the distance. If only she could find some shade instead of being cooked alive.
“Shade,” Clara said.
“Something to share, Miss Grey?” Jonesy asked.
While her statement had been nothing more than a slip of the tongue, it was time to speak up. She was tired of this infernal heat and perhaps she could move things along.
“Yes, shade,” Clara said. “We are exploring the surface of a city that was important to them. So travelling overland in broad daylight would have been impractical.”
For days, their search had yielded no immediate signs of underground structures. There should have been ventilation shafts or even a few sinkholes. Clara knew this, but it was time to think outside the box.
“If the Tower had to be abandoned,” Clara said. “Sensitive areas would be collapsed, filled in or concealed to deter future expeditions,” Clara added.
“How does that help us, Miss Grey,” Jonesy asked.
“This step pyramid is directly in line with the gate room,” Clara said. “The chamber is located by the city’s secondary harbour and would have provided ample escape routes.”
“How—,” Jonesy inquired.
Clara could have told them how the ruins were mapped out in her mind, but that would be a bitter pill for academics to swallow. She could have used a compass to prove her point, but there was a simpler way of pointing out what should have been obvious.
“At this time of day, the sun’s shadows point directly towards the chamber which is four hundred yards in that direction,” Clara said.
Father Allen’s jaw dropped to the floor while Professor Jones eyes bulged. Clara brought the camera forward, held it at waist height, looked down and took a shot. Events like these were meant to be cherished.
“So, why don’t we look for the entrance?” Clara asked.
“But this structure is supposedly solid, child,” Father Allen said.
“True. This structure has an imposing facade, even after centuries of degradation,” Clara said.
“So what if it does?” Jonesy asked.
“Would their kind risk travelling through crowds or use the front door?” she asked.
“Well no—,” Jonesy said.
“So let’s concentrate on the sides and back,” Clara said.
* * * *
The group spent the next two days scouring the temple complex. Clara kept a close eye on the tribesmen. It appeared they did not like lingering here and the last thing she needed was for them to get any ideas.
On both sides of the pyramid, there were channels which led all the way to the top of the structure. Clara noticed how these shafts had been heavily reinforced.
“What were these for?” Clara asked.
“Not sure,” Jonesy said.
“Used to bring up stores?” Father Allen asked.
“Garbage shoot?” Jonesy guessed.
“Drainage?” Father Allen mused.
“Good cover,” Clara said. “No one can see what is going on from either side.”
Clara walked into the channel and disappeared from sight. Only those who faced her directly were able to see what she was up to, which proved her point.
She pulled out her canteen and took a quick sip. The water was refreshing and cool as it ran down her throat. Alas, she had something else in mind for what remained.
“Oops,” Clara said after she dropped the canteen.
The water was initially absorbed by the ground but soon began to pool. It seemed that the theory that these were drains had been wrong, at least for this side.
Without a word, she picked up the canteen and handed it over to one of the locals to refill. Meanwhile she pictured the ziggurat in her mind and realised that this particular channel received the least amount of daylight.
“No obvious markings or pressure points to trigger a mechanism,” Jonesy said.
“No,” Clara said. “Just the way they would want it?” she guessed.
Before Father Allen could speak, Clara cut into the palm of her hand with her crucifix. She then smeared an area just inside the nook with blood.
For a moment nothing seemed to happen, but the blood was slowly absorbed by a portion of the bricks. The break in the streak clearly outlined the concealed doorway.
Jonesy barked out orders, and within moments three lanterns were brought forward. Since they were about to descend, the locals had also been instructed to make camp.
Clara had never seen so many people go pale with dread. With a good six hours of daylight left, Clara made a note to ensure they were back before then. She had an odd feeling their camp would not be ready as instructed.
* * * *
Clara held a lantern in one hand and her pistol in the other. She stepped forward, crossed the threshold, and stopped once she had a clear view of a chamber along with a set of stairs leading down.
Clara took a few steps forward before Father Allen came through the threshold. At first, there was a gasp followed by a grunt when Professor Jones ran into the Father.
“It looks like there is a missing segment,” Jonesy managed to say.
Right by the entrance, there was a section carved out to accommodate a large slab. Had the slab been in place, their expedition would have ended there.
“Early cuneiform,” Jonesy added.
“I agree,” Father Allen said. “It would take weeks to analyse even a small segment of this tunnel.”
“Clara, can you take some pictures?” Jonesy asked.
While she snapped a few shots, Clara said, “What god o
r gods were worshipped at this site?”
“Nanna who was also known as Sin,” Father Allen replied.
“Represented by a crescent moon?” Clara asked.
“Yes. Why do you ask?” Jonesy asked.
Clara moved closer to the stairwell where a large relief of a crescent moon was prominently displayed. Given their aversion to sunlight, it seemed perfectly reasonable for them to worship a nocturnal god.
The Van Helsing Paradox Page 14
