Flight of the Phoenix Page 8

  “Did you see something down there?” Quinn asked in a hoarse, scratchy voice. “Is it the right village?”

  Bryn hugged him. He was burning hot. “Yes, darling. We saw Kivunjo himself. Soon we will have the dagger and I will be free of this curse.”

  Fenix touched Quinn’s forehead. “You need to get him to shelter so we can treat him and make him well.”

  Tures stared at the pile of rocks that had been their lookout point. “If it’s the right village, you must go down there tonight and collect your prize. I have business of my own and we’ve been out here in the jungle long enough. After you get the dagger, we will push on to the mine and collect the fuel we need.”

  “Where is this mine?” Fenix asked.

  Bryn wondered, too. They’d climbed high into the Mountains of the Moon.

  Tures pointed. “The mine is in the Tooth, Jino Mkubwa. Did you think we trudged all this way just for your ridiculous search?” She laughed. “I might do it for Fenix and I’d do anything for Samantha, but certainly not for you. And this search for the dagger of Lazarus is all about you, Bryn. Fenix is here only because of you as well. Don’t think I’m a nice person who lends a hand to every needy witch that comes along because, as you well know, I’m not a person and I’m definitely not nice.”

  Bryn sucked in a huge breath. She’d known Tures was hard and a vampire, but she’d never thought about why she’d brought them all this way. She’d just assumed Tures would. The need for fuel was always there, but it had never occurred to her to question Tures’s motives.

  “Tonight,” she said. “let’s make camp here and plan to go into the village under cover of darkness.”

  Tures looked round. They stood on a flat plateau surrounded by rocks. Behind them, the mountains shot into the clouds. A thin stream of water raced down the side of the mountain, formed a small pool and then ran between rocks to drop in a waterfall to the valley. Below, the canopy of trees stretched as far as she could see into the distance. The ever-present clouds hung just above the tree tops, the sun invisible behind the thick gray mass.

  “This place is as good as any other,” Tures said. She turned to the bearers, lifted her arm and indicated they should put down their burdens and set up a camp.

  Chapter 13

  Quinn rolled and tossed restlessly on a cot inside the tent. His fever continued to climb and Bryn could find nothing to explain it. Fenix put a hand on his face. She could heal some things, but whatever was wrong with Quinn did not respond to her tears. He would recover briefly and then relapse into the fever again. There had to be an answer. Bryn sat next to him holding his hand. Her worried face touched Fenix more than she cared to admit.

  “I can’t understand his illness,” Bryn said. “He gets better when you touch him and then the fever comes right back.”

  “There’s something we’re missing,” Fenix said. “Maybe there’s something inside of him that needs to come out.” Fenix thought this was the most likely case. If a living parasite was inside of Quinn, he would heal but the sickness would return. “Has he spoken? Does he complain of any pain?”

  Bryn shook her head. “He started to say something earlier, but began choking and whatever he meant to say was cut off.”

  Fenix sat up straight. “Loa loa,” she said.

  Bryn gasped. “Do you think?”

  “It could be eating his tongue right now.” The loa loa was the terrifying larva of the zombie wasp. The wasp laid her eggs inside a person’s mouth, the eggs hatched and the larva fed off the victim’s tongue, causing it to whither as the larva consumed it, eating it until the tongue was completely gone.

  “Check,” Fenix said. “It’s a simple fix if I’m right.”

  Bryn pried open Quinn’s mouth. He was unconscious and fought her. Fenix had to sit on his chest. Bryn finally cast a spell to immobilize him. When she had his mouth open, she peered inside.

  “Do you see anything?” Fenix was holding her breath. The larva of the wasp was disgusting and secreted a special venom that paralyzed its victim’s throat. This would explain Quinn’s hoarseness and his eventual failure to communicate.

  Bryn whispered another spell and held out her hand. A fat white grub with enormous fangs shot out of Quinn’s mouth and into her open palm. Quinn immediately began coughing. Fenix groaned. “I knew it.”

  “Help him,” Bryn whispered.

  Fenix hovered over Quinn’s face. She touched his strong jaw and nose. A single tear fell out of her golden eyes and landed on his mouth. He began coughing hard and Bryn lifted him into a sitting position. Two more of the hideous larva flew out of his open mouth. Bryn quickly squashed them. “That was absolutely revolting.”

  “Africa!” Fenix snarled. “Why-oh-why didn’t I return to Paris?”

  “Do you think we got them all?” Bryn’s violet eyes were filled with concern and horror.

  “Yes, or he would still be coughing.”

  Bryn laid him down and covered him. “He’ll get better now,” Fenix said.

  “I hope so. He’s been sick for several days. I wonder where he picked up the larva?”

  “They were only a day or so old,” Fenix said. “Half his tongue would have been gone if they’d been in there any longer.”

  Bryn’s violet eyes were sad. “I can’t stay and take care of him. I have to trust Sam to watch him and you know how she feels about Quinn.”

  Fenix closed her eyes. “I think he will recover now that the larva are gone.”

  “God, I pray it is so. I can’t believe it was a loa loa. You hear about such things, but so rarely see it.” Bryn smiled and clambered to her feet. “I trust you are right, my sister. Let’s go get that dagger.”

  Fenix, Bryn and a large group of vampires led by Tures gathered at the edge of the plateau and stared down into the quiet village. The moon lit the valley. It looked as though all the residents were sleeping. A thread of smoke drifted from the largest hut set off by itself on the shore of the lake.

  “Why am I here again?” Tures asked Bryn.

  “To help me recover Lazarus’s dagger.” She pointed. “I imagine it’s in that big hut.”

  Tures bumped Fenix. “Is this what Lazarus wishes?”

  “He told me to stay with Bryn because there is something we will find together on this trip that will cure us of our curse. I was ready to return to Paris days ago.”

  Tures grinned. “Can’t help that Bryn’s man picked up a loa loa.”

  Fenix nodded.

  Bryn turned and hushed them. “Be quiet. You’ll wake the village.”

  Tures rolled her eyes. “We’re too far away for them to hear us.”

  “Kivunjo has the dagger. He’s very powerful.” She took a deep breath. “Fenix, wait here until I signal you. I’m going in alone.”

  “Be careful.”

  Bryn slid down the rocky slope and slipped into the darkness leaving Fenix with Tures and her vampires. They shifted around uneasily. Fenix was aware of their hunger. One bumped her, bent his head and sniffed her throat. “Tures,” Fenix pushed the vampire away. “Edfu is apparently so hungry he would risk Lazarus’s anger. He just drooled on me.”

  Tures grinned, revealing her exposed fangs. “We’re all starving. I may have promised you we would not feed on the villagers, but what is the promise of a vampire worth? Where blood is concerned, I will tell you, it is worth nothing.”

  “You said you would not feed off them. You promised.”

  “Past a certain point, I cannot control them. They are well past that point. They hunger. I hunger. We will feed.”

  “I am begging you not to.”

  Bakari tapped on Tures’s shoulder. “Mistress, boats on the lake are closing on the village.”

  “What?” Fenix craned her neck to see.

  Tures hushed her. “I believe the village is about to be attacked.”

  “Bryn is in there!”

  “She is well able to care for herself.” Tures spun her finger three times over her head and her group
of vampires gathered close. “It looks as though we are about to be very well fed.”

  Fenix could see the boats now. Black faces painted with white and red glowed in the pale moonlight sparkling off the calm waters. The boats hit the shore, the natives swarmed out and Tures waved her vampires on.

  * * * *

  Priest circled the village. It sat on the shores of a large lake. Smoke drifted from one of the huts as he swooped low over the village. He opened his mouth and snorted. At least twenty boats paddled by natives attired for war closed in on the sleeping village. There was about to be a bloodbath of amazing proportions.

  “Land!” The arrogant whine of Cardinal Malenfant echoed through his head. “I sense an object of great power in that village.”

  Priest felt it too. No doubt Kivunjo resided in this village. The dagger of Lazarus was certainly down there. No other object on earth had the power signature of the dagger. “I sense it, too.” Communicating with Malenfant had to be through telepathy when he was in his dragon form. And even though Priest loathed his parasitic resident, he wanted the dagger. Maybe he could use it again. This time to rid himself of his hated burden.

  “I must get the dagger before those ignorant savages steal it.”

  Priest circled, landed and transformed himself back into a human. He was confident of his ability to find the dagger and escape before the natives attacked. He ran lightly through the village, ducked behind a hut and crouched while he closed his eyes and searched for the source of the power. With a flick of his wrists, he loosed two snakes to search for him. When he felt a presence behind him, he started to rise and was hit from behind by a large object. He dropped to the ground his senses swimming. A second blow knocked him completely out.

  * * * *

  Bryn couldn’t believe Draak Priest was here in Kivunjo’s village. He was trying to foil her attempt to save herself and her sister yet again. But the tables were turned. She had him this time. He lay unconscious at her feet, helpless as a babe. She pulled her knife out of the belt sheath and grabbed his full head of hair. She would slit his throat like the pig he was.

  Out of nowhere a dart hit her wrist. What followed the dart was right out of her worst nightmare. A horde of painted natives screamed out of the lake. One grabbed her hair and jerked her to her feet. Priest was ignored as the native, his eyes glowing in the moonlight, dragged her by the hair toward the lake. The dart must have been drugged. Fog filled her mind, her limbs were growing numb and everything around her swam in a nauseating way. Villagers were dragged out of their huts and slaughtered. Blood flowed like a river across the well-worn earth of the village and everywhere shadows drifted between the buildings feeding off the dying. Tures had released her vampires.

  * * * *

  Fenix ran after the vampires. The village swarmed with strange natives attacking from the lake. The screams of the dying and wounded cracked the silence and the scent of blood floated on the thick, moist night air. Kivunjo’s villagers fought back. Everywhere, the vampires slipped like shadows between the huts, feeding.

  Terrified for her sister, Fenix waved her wand and used a rare spell to make herself hard to see. She wasn’t invisible, she just blended with the background of whatever was behind her. She had to find Bryn. A warrior raced by her covered with blood, his eyes staring out of their sockets. In one hand he carried a spear which dripped with more blood. In the other, he swung a shield. Fenix froze and let him pass, then she slid behind the biggest hut in the village. There was a very powerful object inside of it and Fenix prayed she would find Bryn in there hunting for that object.

  She was forced to dive into deep shadows to avoid another raider. As she ran to press herself against the grass-covered wall of the hut, she tripped over a large object. She bent down and discovered a body. It took her a minute. Why was there a body dressed in a priest’s robes lying on the ground in this village? Was it a missionary? Then it hit her. She flipped the body and gasped when Draak Priest moaned and rubbed his head.

  “You!”

  Priest struggled to sit. “Yes, it is I,” he whispered. “What is happening here?”

  “The village is under attack. I think they have Bryn.”

  “Help me up.”

  “Why would I help you?”

  Priest suddenly grabbed his head and began wailing. Fenix tried to smother his horrible cries by covering his mouth with her hands, but he broke loose of her grasp and took off running. Fenix followed, unsure what she should do. He was her enemy, but here, in the middle of this battle, could an enemy of her enemy be a friend? She followed him wondering what was wrong with him and thinking maybe, when he stopped having whatever kind of fit seemed to be possessing him, he could help her find Bryn.

  He backed up rapidly until he was in the center of the village in some kind of gathering place. A firepit sat in the middle and the ground was trampled smooth. He kept pulling his hair and wailing as he waded into a huge puddle of blood. Dead and dying natives lay everywhere around him. As he screamed and wailed and clutched his head, the warring natives began to notice him. They gathered around and Fenix faded into the shadows to avoid being killed.

  Two of Tures’s vampires, the Egyptians, Edfu and Bakori, leaped out of the shadows and grabbed one of the attacking warriors right in front of Fenix. As Edfu sank his teeth into the warrior’s neck, another warrior sliced off his head. Blood fountained from the stump of the vampire’s neck. The other vampire, Bakori, immediately killed the warrior who had attacked Edfu. The blood from Edfu mixed with the blood of the warrior. The combined streams of bright red blood flowed into the river already on the ground. Blood droplets individually glistening in the moonlight began to dance and shiver as though they had a life of their own.

  The natives backed away from Priest. He appeared to be completely insane as he spun faster and faster while screaming. His face was contorted as though he suffered the worst agony imaginable. Drops of blood from the puddles, including the strange blend of vampire blood and warrior blood, rose into the air and began to spin around him. The individual drops sparkled like rubies in the moonlight as they rose from the ground and circled Priest. In minutes, Priest was standing in the center of a red mist.

  The spectacle soon drew the vampires. In a few minutes, the attackers, the villagers and the vampires stood in frozen awe watching Priest. One minute he was a man, the next a dragon. He shifted in and out of the two forms continuously. All the while, he kept up the high-pitched keening. His head swelled and he clawed at it. His eyes bulged and his forehead pulsed as it grew bigger and bigger. His eyes suddenly rolled back in their sockets, his hands stopped clawing at his head as he extended his arms, palms up. When his head split open, he didn’t fall to the ground and no blood flowed from the wound, no brains were visible inside of it. He continued to spin in a circle as the cloud of blood droplets was sucked into the hole in his head. Fenix had never seen or imagined anything like this in her very long life.

  Two snakes shot out of one of the buildings and slithered up Priest’s sleeves. His robes flapped and started swelling with a squirming presence. The crowd backed up as more blood drops gathered from all over the village to flow into Priest’s swelling head. The cloud of blood droplets was enormous and spinning like a tornado. On the other side of the gathered crowd, Fenix saw Bryn briefly appear and then she was gone. She wanted to follow her sister, but was frozen in place by the spectacle taking place before her. Something very bad and completely incredible was about to happen here and she didn’t want to miss it.

  Chapter 14

  When Draak Priest woke up, the first thing he saw was that golden bitch, Fenix. Then Malenfant, the hated parasitic resident inside his head, began to shriek. It was worse than anything Malenfant had done before. The pain inside his head was beyond the most terrifying, agonizing experience Priest had ever had. He grabbed his hair and stumbled into the center of the village only vaguely aware of where he was or what was happening. The only thing he could think of was the pain inside o
f his brain. When his head began to swell he started screaming and spinning as he clawed at his forehead.

  The pain increased, becoming sharp like a knife stabbing into his forehead which continued to intensify. Priest thought he would surely die of it. When he opened his eyes, he saw drops of blood rise off the ground and circle him like a tornado. His snakes slipped under his robes as his body ballooned and his head and his limbs contorted. His chest expanded until he couldn’t breathe. It felt like there was someone else inside his body and that someone was trying to escape. The pain was excruciating. He screamed and clawed at his head and body hardly noticing when his head split open and the blood rising off the ground poured in.

  Priest fell to the ground shrieking and clawing at his stomach, his chest and his forehead. Something was coming out of him! He writhed and foamed at the mouth as a creature, surely some kind of alien monster, crawled out of his brain and lay in the diminished puddles of blood. The opening in his head snapped shut, healing instantly. He was immortal, and he rose to his knees. The pain was gone. He searched for the evil cardinal inside his brain and found a blissful emptiness. Where was Malenfant?

  The creature spawned inside his head looked like a wizened old man, naked and covered with a red sheen of blood. As it coughed and stood up, Priest clambered to his feet as well. Fenix, standing close to his shoulder, gasped. “What is it?”

  The creature began cackling and dancing around. He was naked. His shriveled penis flapped above a pair of hairless, dangling balls. “I’m alive. I’m alive.”

  Priest backed away, his hand above his heart. “Malenfant?”

  “Yes, you dunderhead. Of course it is I, Cardinal Malenfant, in the flesh. Though I’m disappointed at how wrinkled and old I am. Still, it is an enormous pleasure to have my own body.”