The Green Lama: Unbound (The Green Lama Legacy Book 3) (30 page)

“Oh God,” Jean cried out. “It’s happening just like he said.” She pushed her way through the crowd. “Come on, we have to get closer before it’s too late.”

“Blood!” Alexei cried as they tied Caraway and Sotiria to two wooden poles. “Blood must be spilled for R’lyeh! Blood must be drawn by a Scion!” He walked over to Dr. Hammond, who placed a sheathed blade in his hand. Turning back the throng of humans and monsters, Alexei unsheathed the blade, held it above his head, and the night erupted in green light. The crowd shielded their eyes and bowed their heads in reverence. “Blood must fall on the Blade of the Elder Ones to open the gates! Blood of Adam! Blood of Eve!
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!
”

“What’s that he’s got in his hand?” Ken asked as the cultists began to chant louder and louder.

Jethro’s eyes went wide, recognizing the crystal blade from his dream— the blade that would kill him. “It’s the phurba!
Om! Tare Tuttare Ture Soha!
It’s the Shard, the missing piece of the Third Tablet!”

Alexei walked over to Vasili and placed the Shard in his hands. “By the hand of a Scion must the blood run!” Despite his vacant gaze a thin, unnatural smile formed on Vasili’s lips. Alexei placed a hand on Vasili’s shoulder and led him over to Sotiria.

“No,” Sotiria whimpered, tears pouring down her cheeks as Vasili stumbled toward her. “Please help me. Anyone, please, please help.”

There was a wave of laughter from the crowd.

“I don’t like where this is—” Ken said when a cultist suddenly grabbed him by the throat. His face red, Ken tried to pry himself free, but the cloaked man was too powerful.

“
Você não parará a cerimônia!
” the cultist screamed, pressing down on Ken’s windpipe.

“Ken!” Jean shouted, pulling out her gun and shooting the attacker in the head.

On the altar Alexei smiled broadly as everyone turned toward the sound of the gunshot. “He’s here!” he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement.

“Jethro!” Caraway shouted, looking hopefully out into the crowd. “Don’t worry, Sotiria! It’s gonna be okay!”

His mouth agape, Gan stepped toward the edge of the altar. “Dumont!”

“He’s alive?” Gottschalk asked in shock.

Two cultists threw themselves at Jethro. Elbowing one of his attackers in the throat, Jethro spun out and kneed the other in the groin. But before he could move, three more cultists were on him, grabbing him by the arms and throat.

“
Om Ah Ra Pa Cha Na Dhih!
” Jethro shouted as he struggled against their hold. Thrusting his head back, he crushed the nose of one of his attackers with an audible
crack!
Using this momentary surprise, Jethro quickly sidestepped and kicked out the legs of the cultist on his right. As the man’s weight pulled him down, Jethro swung his left arm, throwing the other assailant on top of his compatriot, their heads colliding with a bone cracking
smash!
Freeing himself, Jethro launched forward and vaulted over a broken pillar. He caught a low hanging branch and swung into the air toward the altar.

Meanwhile, Ken weaved his way through the crowd when something caught onto his leg and pulled him back. Looking down he found a Chthonian wrapping its tentacles around his leg.

“None shall stop the rising!” the creature said in a gurgling, bubbling voice.

Screaming, Ken pounded his fist as hard as he could against the creature’s pulpy grey sack of a body, sending tissue and plasma spraying into the air.

Nearing the altar, Jethro was close enough to see inside the deep crevices of Alexei’s face, black ooze flowing beneath the skin. He was almost there. He could save her, could save them both. It would all be—

“Dumont!” the doctor screamed as he leaped off the altar and knocked Jethro to the ground, grabbing him by the throat. His eyes blazed, spit flew from his mouth as he screeched, “Do you remember me now, Green Lama? Do you remember me? You stupid
Amerikaner!
Look me in the eyes and tell me you remember me!”

Jethro’s eyes went wide, at last recognizing the scarred face beneath the Van Dyke beard. “Heydrich!” Jethro wheezed as he fought against the madman’s grip.

Heydrich laughed manically as he pressed down on Jethro’s windpipe. “I want you to watch this, Green Lama. I want you to watch the birth of the world
you
helped create.”

“Let the blade taste blood!” Alexei commanded as Vasili mindlessly pressed the Shard up against Sotiria’s throat.

Sotiria looked into Vasili’s vacant eyes. “ Vasili,” she begged, shaking her head. “Please, Vasili, don’t.”

“ Vasili, stop!” Caraway shouted, struggling to break free. “It’s Sotiria! Can’t you see! Don’t do this!”

“Please, Vasili!” Sotiria begged. “Please, it’s me. Please, don’t do this. I’m so sorry. Please, Vasili, I love—!”

Vasili plunged the crystalline blade into Sotiria’s throat, slicing across as blood spilled out down her neck, soaking her shirt and pooling onto the ground.

“NOOO!!!” Caraway screamed.

“
Iä Iä Cthulhu fhtagn!”
the cultists screamed in unison. The ruins erupted with green light as the Shard blasted a column of energy thundering into the sky. The earth began to shake, threatening to rip apart beneath them.

“Do you see, Dumont?” Heydrich laughed, blissfully watching the energy climb into space. “Do you see the dawn of a magnificent new era?”

“Hey, jackass!” Jean shouted as she pressed her gun against Heydrich’s temple. “Looks like we meet in
this
timeline!” She fired twice, black ooze erupting out of Heydrich’s skull. Heydrich screamed in pain, clutching his head as he fell away, one eye hanging loose from its socket.

“That won’t stop him for long,” Jean said as she helped Jethro off the ground. “Trust me.”

Jethro gripped her shoulder for support. “Jean, we’ve failed.”

She touched his face and said simply, “Caraway.”

Jethro’s eyes steeled over as the earth shook again, cracking the ground. Taking Jean’s hand, they shielded their eyes as they jumped onto the altar, blindly searching for Caraway.

“John!” Jethro shouted over the chanting and roaring beam of energy. “John, can you hear me?”

An eternity passed before they heard, “Jethro!”

Jethro turned at the sound of Caraway’s voice. “John, we’re coming—!” he choked as the air suddenly rushed out of his lungs. Jean fell to her knees, gripping her throat.

“Come, now,” Alexei laughed, walking out of the light. His face was cracked beyond recognition to the point that he no longer appeared human. “Did you really believe I was going to let you just walk away? Ah, Jean Farrell,” he said as he ran his fingers through her hair, twisted it around his fist, and pulled her head back. “You’ve caused quite a bit of problems since I arrested you, haven’t you? I confess I was quite saddened when you didn’t recognize me then. How do you think you were transported clear across New York City and just
happened
to find the bearer of the Second Tablet? But then again, I had played with your memories.” Throwing her down, he sauntered over to Jethro and ran his nails down the side of Jethro’s face, drawing blood. “And of course, Jethro Dumont,
the Green Lama
, how I longed for this day! You played your part so well, I thought you had rehearsed! But then again, the lamas at the Temple of the Clouds
were
training you for this for ten years.” He looked over both Jean and Jethro with a warm smile. “And now here you both are, the last two Scions, all mine!”

Jethro watched through the haze of light and asphyxiation as a grenade fell at Alexei’s feet. Without a moment to spare, Jethro grabbed Jean and quickly pulled her behind a broken column as the grenade went off, blasting Alexei into a thousand pieces. Jean and Jethro gasped as air rushed back into their lungs. The green light that blanketed the complex instantly disappeared. Vasili dropped to the ground unconscious, the Shard clattering against the altar’s stone floor. A cacophony of screams echoed through the ruins at the sight of Alexei’s dismembered remains splattered across the altar, black ooze flowing out of the chunks.

Someone grabbed Jethro by the arm. “What in the hell just happened?” Ken asked in between gasps of air. “Looked like the sky just cracked open!”

“It’s worse than that, Ken,” Jean said, woefully. “Good move with the grenade, though.”

“I didn’t throw it, Jean,” Ken confessed.

“Run, Dumont! You don’t have much time!” Gan whispered as he slid down beside them. He pressed a folded piece of paper into Jethro’s hand. “You have to hurry to these coordinates. It is where the doctor told us the city would rise. No matter what happens you
must
get there before they wake Cthulhu.”

“Not without Caraway,” Jethro said.

Gan glanced behind the column, instantly measuring the horde of cultists and creatures, and nodded. “I’ll buy you some time.” Running up to the altar, he shouted: “
Herbei, ihr Soldaten! Feuer frei! Nichts soll am Leben bleiben!
”The complex erupted in gunfire as the Nazi soldiers hidden within the brush began mowing down anyone and anything within the ruins.

They found Caraway on the ground, still bound to the wooden pole. His face was slightly burned and bruised, but he was alive. “Sotiria… No…” he moaned.

“He’s in shock, but he’ll recover,” Jethro said as he and Ken removed Caraway’s bindings and lifted him up off the ground. “Jean, keep an eye out.”

“Got it,” she said, reloading her weapon. “Let’s get the hell off this island.”

PART
3:
CALL
OF
CTHULHU

C
HAPTER 15

TROUBLE ABOARD

The boulder tumbled down the side of the mountain, a sound that echoed through the snowcapped world like thunder. “How many pounds was that?” Dumont asked with a broad smile as he dusted off his hands. He looked younger, more energetic, and seemed to have grown several inches taller since he had begun taking the radioactive salts. Muscles pushed against his robes; even his eyes seemed to glow in the shadows.

“Two thousand, four hundred and one pounds and—” Tsarong paused as he reread the measurement in his notebook. “—forty-two ounces. A new record, Tulku
.”

Dumont furrowed his brow in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

Tsarong turned the book toward Dumont. “Take a look yourself, Tulku.”

“
Om! Ma-ni Pad-me Hum!
That’s impossible,” he jovially declared as he looked over the notebook in fascination. “I’m not even breaking a sweat! Heck, I don’t even feel tired. This radioactive salt!” he exclaimed, pounding his chest with his fist. “I can
feel
its energy flowing through every cell in my body like an electric current, and the most amazing thing about it, Tsarong, is that I
know
I’m only scratching the surface.”

Tsarong raised an eyebrow. “Truly? And what does one
do
with such power?”

Jethro rubbed his chin. “That is an excellent question, but the real question is
why
I was given this power?”

“Perhaps that is an answer you will discover when the time is right.”

“And how will I know when that will be?”

Tsarong smiled. “You will know, Tulku. You will know.”

• • •

Rick Masters woke with a start, fell out of his chair, and tumbled to the ground. His head knocked against the hangar’s cement floor, his ears ringing with a wavering trill. No, it wasn’t just his head… The phone. Pulling himself up to his desk, he searched through the darkness until he found the screaming devil. Yanking the receiver off its cradle he mumbled through the fog of concussion and whiskey. “Huhlo?”

“
Om! Ma-ni Pad-me Hum!
” a quiet voice breathed.

“Gaw… Hell. You’re kiddin’ me, right?”

“Do you regret not telling him?” the woman asked from the shadows of the Park Avenue penthouse, her voice and face ever changing, as if she were several women instead of one.

“It is not fair for him to unknowingly take on so much,” Tsarong said as he carefully finished sewing over the small lump in the fur-lined cuff of the green monk’s robe. “To sacrifice himself as he will.”

“Was it not you who once said: ‘to know one’s destiny is to void it’?”

Tsarong’s ears perked up. “Did I say that?” he asked with a smile. “Age has not been kind to me; my memory is not what it once was when I bore the Tablet.”