The Green Lama: Unbound (The Green Lama Legacy Book 3) (29 page)

Heydrich’s insides twisted with anticipation as he walked away from the main complex. For the first time since his death, he felt alive. He had heard the feeling described as “giddy as a schoolboy,” but the concept was a foreign one. Heydrich had never been a schoolboy, his youth filled with beatings and worship. It wasn’t until he reached puberty and was allowed to make his first sacrifice—a young boy from a local village—that he had felt anything close to being described as joy. He could still remember the warm blood spilling over his hands and the arousal it had caused. But that sensation was an echo of what he was experiencing now. After so many years and two lives of waiting and planning, here it was, the first step toward—

Click!

“Something I can do for you, Herr Sturmbannführer?” Heydrich asked as Hirsch walked out of the darkness with a Lüger in hand.

“Where is the Shard, Herr Doktor Hammond?” Hirsch whispered, pressing the barrel against Heydrich’s stomach.

Heydrich glanced down at the gun with disinterest. Such a silly little thing. “Now, what would you want to do with it, Herr Sturmbannführer?”

Hirsch firmed his lips. “The Shard,” he repeated. “Where is it?”

“You seem upset,” Heydrich said, a smile curling his scarred lips. “Perhaps we should discuss this later when you’re of clearer mind.”

“Give me the Shard, dammit!” Hirsch nearly shouted.

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t do that, Hirsch,” Heydrich calmly said as he stepped closer to the pock-faced Sturmbannführer, the gun barrel pushing into his stomach.

“I just want the Shard… I will—I will kill you,” Hirsch stuttered as he took a half step back.

“Will you, now?” Heydrich asked incredulously. “Others have, though as you can see, they have been
less
than successful.”

Hirsch’s hand began to shake. “Back away, Hammond. I will shoot you.”

“Please do,” he said in a calm, reassuring voice. “I have been dead so long, I’m curious as to what will happen.”

Hirsch’s finger nervously teased at the trigger. “I’m serious…”

“So am I,” Heydrich said, his smile broadening. “Please. Shoot me.”

Hirsch furrowed his brow as sweat began dripping down his cheek.

“You’re insane…”

“Shoot me, you
Du Schwein
!!!” Heydrich screamed, grabbing the Lüger and Hirsch’s hand at once.

“Let go!” Hirsch shouted as he tried to wrench the gun free of Heydrich’s hands.

There was a loud
pop!
as the gun fired point blank into Heydrich’s stomach. Heydrich stumbled back, clutching his midsection in reflex more than pain. He had felt the bullet slice into his gut, but it was an echo of a sensation, a forgotten memory. He moved his hands away from the wound, expecting to see blood pouring out, but his tunic was dry, a small hole in the fabric the only indication that he had been shot. Pulling it aside, he drove his finger and thumb into the wound, searching for the bullet until he felt his nails scratch against the metal. Pulling it out with a sickening
slurp!
Heydrich held the bullet up and examined it, putrid black bile dripping off it and running down his fingers.

“Fascinating,” he said with genuine interest.

Hirsch dropped his gun and stumbled backwards onto the ground. “
Gott im Himmel!
” he exclaimed. “What
are
you?!”

Heydrich shifted his gaze from the bullet to the whimpering Sturmbannführer and smiled. “Everything you feared, Herr Sturmbannführer.” He was upon Hirsch in an instant, wrapping his hands around the Sturmbannführer’s throat. He pressed his thumbs against Hirsch’s larynx and began to squeeze.

Hirsch gripped at Heydrich’s wrists, but couldn’t pull them away. His legs thrashed against the ground, kicking up dust but nothing more. He tried to scream but there was no air in his lungs.

“Shh…” Heydrich comforted as Hirsch’s eyes began to bulge out their sockets. His face shifted from red to purple to blue, his kicks slowed, and his grip on Heydrich’s wrist weakened until there was the telltale
crack!
as Heydrich’s thumbs crushed the jugular. Hirsch’s body slackened, a discarded rag doll on the ground.

Heydrich climbed off Hirsch and wiped the sweat from his brow, a toothy smile cracking his scarred face.

Yes, he had not felt this alive in years.

“Is John your real name?”

Caraway glanced over at Sotiria. “Yeah, John’s my real name. I’m a cop, though, back in New York.”

“Ah, so you were not really looking for work, then, were you?”

Caraway shook his head. “Naw, all that—the eye patch, the thievin’— was all for show. We were looking for a friend and we thought we’d learn something by goin’ undercover. It was a stupid idea by a stupid man.”

“Are you scared, John?” she asked.

“Only a little,” he lied, unable to even draw his gaze from the ground. His arms were burning in their sockets, his hands losing sensation.

“That bald one, the German,” she said after a minute. “You knew him.” This was not a question.

Caraway grunted a harsh laugh. “Thought I did. Just goes to show ya, you can’t ever trust a Kraut.”

“They are going to kill us, yes?”

Caraway opened and closed his mouth, unsure how or whether to tell the truth. He was no stranger to death. Since becoming head of the Special Crimes Squad he had faced mobsters and monsters and everything in between; he knew it was only a matter of time before he kicked the bucket. But for Sotiria, still young and beautiful, death was less a fact than a distant thought. “Ken went to get help,” he said, finally, not sure if he believed it himself. “I’m sure of it.”

“Who can help us now?” she asked weakly.

Caraway let out another sardonic chuckle. “Jethro Dumont.”

Sotiria pinched her face in bewilderment. “The millionaire? I heard he once slept with—”

“Sotiria, no offense, but the last thing I want to talk about right now is my friend’s sex life.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s not worth it.”

“Can I ask you a question, John? If things had been different, if you were not married, I mean, would you have—?”

Caraway smiled and glanced toward her. “Sweetheart, there would’ve been nothing on God’s green earth that would’ve stopped me.”

Sotiria smiled at that. “Well, I suppose that is—” she cut herself short when they heard the rustle of footsteps approaching.

The Nazi with the Van Dyke entered the clearing and walked up to them, flanked by two robed men, their faces hidden in the shadows. Placing his hands behind his back, he smiled as he looked over his captives. “It is time.”

• • •

The fight had been quick and silent. Jethro and Ken dragged the last of the unconscious cultists into the brush and stripped them of their robes. Pulling the hood over his head, Jethro noticed Ken’s expression. “What?”

Ken blinked rapidly, failing to hide his stupefaction. “It’s just… You look like—” he stuttered. “I mean, never mind.”

“He kind of looks like the Green Lama,” Jean commented as she threw on her hood, hiding a mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” Ken said hesitantly, peaking his eyebrows. “But only from the corner of my eye. Weird.”

Jethro gave Ken a shallow smile. “Come,” he said as moved toward the ruins. “We have to find Caraway before its too late.”

Leaving the brush, they fell into step with the line of chanting cultists. “
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!”
the cultists repeated over and over, an invocation spoken in a guttural yet lyrical voice. Entering the heart of the ruins, they could see the Nazi officials, including Gan, standing just off to the right of the altar, all visibly anxious. Vasili stood just behind the broken pillars, his jaw slack, eyes vacant. At the center was Alexei, pressing the
Necronomicon
against his body. Thin black lines covered his face; his eyes were a pair of obsidian orbs, while his wolfish grin glistened white in the firelight.

“Good God,” Jean breathed, staring at Alexei’s destroyed visage. “What happened to him?”

“Whatever he really is, it’s starting to show,” Ken whispered back.

A strange buzzing seemed to echo through the air, similar to the sensation Jethro had experienced in the living cloud. “Do you feel that?”

“Like there’s a bee flying around the back of your head? Yeah,” Jean replied, unconsciously lifting her hand to her head.

Ken shook his head. “I don’t feel anything, except—gah!” he exclaimed, covering his ears as a tremendous
croak!
echoed through the complex.

Jethro turned toward the source, his jaw clenched in horror as he watched hundreds—if not thousands—of naked Deep Ones march out of the darkness in swaying unison behind a masked figure, stopping just short of the main altar. There was a small gasp from the Nazi officers, and Jethro could see Gottschalk covering his mouth in shock at the sight of the inhuman creatures, a dark stain forming in the crotch of his pants. For his part, Gan remained unmoved and unafraid, his hands placed behind his back as if he were under inspection. The masked figure wobbled over to Alexei and bowed deeply, pressing his masked face against Alexei’s foot as if he were kissing it.

“
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
” the masked figure rasped.

“
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn
, Ke’ta!” Alexei replied in a booming voice. “I am pleased to see the Deep Ones here at the time of alignment!”

“
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
” the Deep Ones all croaked in unison.

Ke’ta pulled off his jade mask, revealing his true nature to the Nazis. His black, bulbous eyes unreadable, he gave the German officials a stiff-armed salute and a throaty “
Heil Hitler!
” Obergruppenführer Gottschalk weakly returned the gesture.

Wide-eyed, Jean tugged at Jethro’s sleeve and pointed at the ground as pockets of soil began to churn around their feet. In seconds, the complex was flowing with tentacles, littered with loathsome creatures without any clear definition beyond twisting, writhing, grey sacks of organs and appendages. At the front of the altar a gigantic mass of boneless limbs burrowed out of the ground and slithered toward Alexei. Reaching out with a long, forked tentacle, the wriggling mass touched Alexei’s extended hand in a clear sign of submission.

“Shudde M’ell, god of the Chthonians,” Alexei said to the beast. “We are pleased to see you and your followers here on this night.”

“
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
” Shudde M’ell gurgled. The tentacled Chthonians immediately followed suit.

“Okay, I think it’s fair enough to say I’m officially scared out of my mind,” Ken breathed.

“After everything we’ve been through,” Jean said through gritted teeth as she watched a Chthonian slither by,” guess that’s saying something.”

Jethro watched as the Deep Ones and Chthonians fell in place before the altar, his stomach twisting in fear. He had seen darkness in many forms since he first bore the Jade Tablet, but he had never seen horrors like this.

This sight before him was maddening, monsters that seemed to defy all theories of evolution, that were at once alien yet bound to this world. What was most frightening of all was the knowledge that this was only the first wave of atrocities they would be facing. And if Rabbi Brickman’s predictions were to be believed, it would all end with his death.

Alexei threw his arms in the air, and the complex fell silent. “
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
” he shouted.

“
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
” the congregation called back.

“We have waited six millennia for this day!” Alexei howled, speaking in every language at once, the black lines on his face growing with each word. Holding the
Necronomicon
over his head, he continued. “‘That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with strange aeons even death may die.’ So are the words of Abdul Alhazred. The stars have come right! Glyyu-Uho, Celaeno, Algol, Baalbo, Ogntlach, Yifne, Arcturus, Fomalhaut and Xoth align to raise the son of Vhoorl!
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
For the stars to align!
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
For the city to rise!
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
For the Great Old Ones to awaken!
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn! Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
”

“
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!”
they replied.

A scream echoed out from the darkness. “Let us go, you bastards!”

“John,” Jethro breathed as Caraway and a sobbing Sotiria were dragged past the Nazi officials.

“Burn in hell, you piece of shit!” Caraway growled as he spit in Gan’s face.