I took slow, deep breaths and waited, ears strained for anything out of the ordinary. For a ten count of me trying not to hyperventilate, there was nothing, and then something slid against the rocks above me. I looked up and saw a series of interlaced caverns; smooth and polished exactly like the tunnels that led out to the ocean. I stood still and waited for what I hoped was a giant bat or lizard to pass by . . . hell, even a crocodile was preferable . . .
Something hissed, above and to my left. I swore and fumbled my flashlight as I aimed the beam at it. A patch of rock began to move and wind over itself, glistening in the moonlight. It took me a sec to make the connection. Scales. Giant white scales.
Adrenaline hit me so hard I froze. I stumbled over my own feet, twice, before I regained my balance enough to bolt. I scrambled up onto a ledge as the very large snake dropped to the ground behind me.
I ran, and I didn’t give a flying rat’s ass who the hell heard me at this point.
In the words of a famous archaeologist, “I hate snakes.”
Less than fifty feet down, the tunnel ended and spilled out into the catacombs. Rule of thumb: never look over your shoulder when running from monsters. Keep running, fast. Especially where snakes are concerned. Think all those Medusa stories.
Instead, from the tail I’d glimpsed winding through the tunnel lattice, I could well imagine the giant white snake hurtling towards me. Apparently it had decided I was tonight’s dinner theater. I swore and kept running, convinced with each hiss that it was gaining on me. I think I even blew right by the tablet.
I recognized this section of tunnels from the maps and pictures I’d studied. Instead of keeping left and heading farther into the catacombs, I took a sharp right, straight for the main temple. If I was lucky, the giant snake was bound as a guardian in the temple proper, meaning if I passed by the temple threshold I’d be out of the snake’s range . . . or have more open ground to run on. Either way I’d be better off than if I kept running in the catacombs. . . . One giant snake mousetrap.
My feet hit the tiled floor of a temple side room. Halfway across, I hurdled over an altar in hopes the slab of granite would slow the snake down. In a matter of seconds I was across the chamber and out a doorway that led to a flight of stone stairs cut into the bedrock. I was breathing heavily now—maybe I should cut back on the World Quest and Corona—but the stairs went up, and up meant I’d be heading towards the surface.
I pushed my lungs to reach the flight of stairs before the snake caught up. My legs quit taking orders and I tripped over an uneven step, landing hard on my wrists and knocking the wind out of myself. The stone altar broke behind me. Not daring to look back, I scrambled back up, ignoring the sharp pain in my left wrist. Damn it, that was the one I used. At the top of the stairs was a wooden door, not the original but a good replica, complete with a slab bolt. As soon as my foot touched the top step, I slammed the door behind me and dropped the metal rebar into place, bolting it shut. The snake crashed into the door, but the hard wood panels held. For now. I had no illusions how long a few slabs of wood would hold up against a three-hundred-pound snake. Anything that opted to crash through a granite altar rather than slide around it would have no problem with a wooden door. The rebar only bought me a few more minutes. Time to hide.
I took fast stock of my surroundings. I was in a larger temple room roughly the size of a baseball diamond with vaulted ceilings and Balinese statues lining the walls. From the style and structure, I could tell this had been built after the lower catacombs, probably by a few hundred years, give or take, and a cool breeze carried fresh air here.
I was right under the surface; all I had to do now was find the exit. I wracked my brain and tried to remember where the exit had been on the map, and where I was.
Crack!
The wood door splintered along the length, bending against the rebar as the snake smashed into the door again. Who cared about the exit—a giant snake was about to eat me. I heard the door splinter again behind me and a hiss echoed through the temple, bouncing off the walls, as if in an amphitheater.
There were six statues, three on each side of the room. I ran by the second pair and skidded to a halt; I’d almost blown by an escape route, a set of narrower, steeper stairs built into the wall on my left and leading up to a ledge that ran along the perimeter. I made a sharp left for the stairs, hoping and betting that the snake couldn’t climb.
If it can ever be said that there is a golden rule of archaeology, it’s this: “Always keep an eye peeled for ancient booby traps.”
Why the hell can’t I follow my own advice?
It sprung after my foot landed on the tenth or twelfth step. I swore as the stone slabs collapsed underneath me into a slide. This part of the temple had a lot of foot traffic, so either the giant snake or I had triggered something . . . something the damn student archaeologists hadn’t found or bothered to disarm yet. I scrambled to wedge my fingers and toes into any cracks or crevices, but the ancient Balinese had thought of that. I slid right back down to the temple floor and came to a stop below one of the statues, an Apsara to be precise, a female Balinese muse of gaming and fortune.
Figures.
The rebar shrieked and I couldn’t stop myself from staring at the door. It looked more like a balloon now than the laws of physics gave it any right to. A balloon ready to burst. Flat on your ass, you notice things—like the snake imagery woven into the stonework and statues . . . A sickening thought struck me: I didn’t think the ancient Balinese had designed this place for getting away from the snake.
The collapse of the ancient slide and the snake obliterating the door were also just the right amount of noise to get the guards’ attention . . . if you were wondering what it would take to get the minimum-wage night shift to put their drinks down and do their job. I heard two male, middle-aged voices echo from the far end. They worried me less than the snake—they’d run as soon as they realized it was supernatural. No sense risking them seeing me here though.
I scanned the room, but hiding spots weren’t exactly jumping out at me, and the ledge recessed around the ceiling seemed to be it—designed for priests and spectators, I’d wager.
The only things in the temple left to climb were the statues. I gauged the one closest to me; it stood nine, maybe ten, feet in a classic pose, one arm raised towards the heavens and the other extended down towards the earth. Though the tip of its headdress didn’t reach all the way to the ledge, it was a hell of a lot closer than I was now. I hopped up and latched on to the extended statue arm. I winced as a sharp pain shot up my injured left wrist, but I ignored it with a mental reminder of guns and snakes. I pulled myself up onto its shoulders.
There was a commotion at the far end of the hall—the guards, and closer than they had been before. From the sound of it, they were arguing, probably about whether to come in or not. It stopped and footsteps began again, coming towards me. I frowned. Why hadn’t they turned back yet? The hissing alone should have sent them into supernatural mode—wasn’t the IAA training these guys anymore? Hiss and Crash don’t mean “Go look for intruders”—they mean “Run! Run now!”
I stood up, a foot on either shoulder and knees balanced against the headdress. To say the recess was a bit of a jump from the statue was an understatement. It had looked a hell of a lot closer from the ground. I was glad I had my spiked shoes on; I’d need them to help catch the ledge.
I leapt.
A yelp escaped me as I slammed into the recess. My right hand latched onto the ledge, but my injured left one grabbed a jagged piece of rock. My reflexes took over and my left released in a wave of fresh pain. I managed to get a fingerhold in a carved relief with my right, but it wasn’t good enough, and I began to slip. My shoes scraped against the ancient carvings. Great, now I could add ruining priceless artwork to what I’d accomplished this trip.
The fingers of my right hand started to go numb. I looked down at the floor—why do things always look so much higher from above? If I didn’t
get hold of the ledge now, I’d fall, or the guards would shoot me . . . or the snake would break the door and eat me after I fell . . .
In a last-ditch effort I began to swing my body side to side to create momentum. The guards were getting closer, and for some reason the snake had ceased its onslaught on the door, which worried me.
Having gotten as much momentum as I dared, I shut my eyes and swung my legs up. With a colossal effort from my out-of-shape abs, I shimmied my leg over the ledge and pulled the rest of me over. I lay flat so that only my head peeked over the side while I caught my breath. The temple amplified every sound, so I slowed my breathing and tried to keep as quiet as possible as the guards entered.
My phone buzzed.
I screamed silently as I fumbled it out of my pocket—silent settings on phones are a joke.
Where are you? read the text from Rynn.
I swore. I was starting to wish he’d never gotten hold of my number. Not a good time. I started to put my phone back in my pocket, when it buzzed again.
The guards heard it this time and started to look around, guns out, when the snake began to beat up the door again. Instead of running like they should have, they turned their guns on the door. Jeez, how stupid do you have to be? I checked the message.
Call me. Now.
I turned the phone off—except it wouldn’t power down. What the hell? You’re going to get me shot—stop texting.
I checked back on the guards, who now flanked the door. Oh, this was going to be bad. I bit my lip. On the one hand, I didn’t favor being shot at; on the other hand, I couldn’t not warn them. I didn’t have much faith in their bullets doing damage.
I stuck my head over the ledge and cupped my mouth. “Hey, you idiots—run, there’s a—shit!” I ducked back down as the first two bullets careened into the stonework. Of course the guards hadn’t listened to a word I’d said—easier to just open fire.
My phone buzzed again.
CALL ME. CALL ME RIGHT NOW OR I AM NEVER SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN.
I swore. The guards were far enough away that I figured a phone call would be faster than writing. Rynn picked up before the first ring.
“Goddamn it, Rynn, I’m trying not to get shot by antiquities guards here—” Another set of bullets ricocheted above me.
“Where are you?”
“Where do you think? Ass deep in a Bali catacomb trying to steal something.” I was actually trying to copy inscriptions this time, but usually I’m stealing something.
“Owl, listen to me very carefully. The guards aren’t the problem. There’s something else there you need to worry about. How well are you hidden?”
I snorted. “If you’re about to tell me to watch out for a giant snake, you’re a little late. Found that one already—in fact it’s about to eat the idiot guards. So if you wouldn’t mind—”
“You know, I’m beginning to see why the vampires were willing to chase you halfway across the globe for a year. You’re only half right about the snake. Sanur has a resident naga.”
“Shit.”
Nagas have the torso of a woman and the tail of a snake. They’re smart, more so than your run-of-the-mill giant snake. They’re territorial and covered in a thick hide that’s hard to cut through. They also have a nasty, nasty temper. I’d read somewhere they had venomous fangs, but reports varied on that one.
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do about a—” I stopped midsentence. There weren’t any bars on my cell phone. I had one of those chilling horror story moments.
And I hadn’t mentioned to anyone except Nadya the set of catacombs I was headed for.
“Rynn, how the hell are you even calling me? And how the hell do you know where I am? Did Nadya tell you?” Or for that matter what a naga was. Rynn was a pro at suspending disbelief, but I’d never gotten the impression he had an interest in the supernatural.
My train of thought was interrupted as the rebar gave a final shriek before buckling and the guards screamed. “Gimme a sec,” I said, and peeked over the ledge.
The naga’s torso was as white as the tail I’d glimpsed in the tunnels and offset by a crown of black hair that reflected a green sheen under the lamplight. Her features were that of a beautiful Balinese woman—except for the two white fangs that extended over her red lower lip. I realized that she bore a striking resemblance to the Apsara statue I’d scaled, complete with ornate headdress.
Her eyes were golden and shone as she glanced at the guards. They stopped screaming, stopped everything in fact. She had both of them in some kind of trance. She glanced up in my direction. I dropped and closed my eyes tight. Never look snake monsters in the eye.
“Owl, what’s happening?”
I didn’t answer. On the one hand, I could maybe make a run for it while the naga was busy with the guards . . . on the other hand, they didn’t stand a chance against her. As much as I disliked the idea, I wouldn’t sleep well if I let her eat a couple of minimum-wage hacks. Besides, she’d come straight for me after finishing them, so it was in my best interest to keep as many of us alive as possible; more people to outrun. Added bonus, I wouldn’t dream about two hapless guards being rended into pieces by an ancient Balinese snake god.
Gave new meaning to “death by minimum wage.”
I took a deep breath. I hate making choices like this. They’d been shooting at me, for Christ’s sake.
“Rynn, gotta go. That naga is about to turn the guards into snacks.”
“Stay hidden and I’ll be there in less than a minute.”
“What? How? This isn’t a game—”
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” he said, and hung up.
“Who, me? Wouldn’t think of it,” I said to myself. This evening was already weirder than I’d ever imagined. I couldn’t contemplate what the hell Rynn was doing here, or why, but I knew I sure as hell didn’t like it. This is what I get for stepping back into the supernatural world. Everything goes to hell in a handbasket in five minutes flat.
The naga hissed and slithered towards the frozen guards. How to get her attention? I searched around the ledge, found a loose stone in one of the carvings, and wedged it out. It would do. I inched back to the ledge and peeked over. The naga was a few feet away from the guards, her tail stretched out past the entrance behind her, about ten or eleven feet. She was taking her precious time. I took the rock and aimed.
“Hey, snake lady! Over here,” I yelled.
It hit her square between her shoulder blades. Her head whipped around, and I swore she looked straight at me, even though the ledge hid me from sight. The gold eyes started to shine . . . sooo pretty. I shook my head and shut my eyes.
With the naga’s lapse in concentration, one of the guards must have broken free, because the next thing I heard was a gun go off and the naga shriek. I just hoped the guards had enough sense to run like hell. Even a little of the naga’s stare left me dazed. It took me half a minute before I trusted myself to open my eyes. I peeked over the edge. Both guards now flanked the naga. Of all the stupid things . . . points for bravery though. I needed another rock. Not finding one, I searched through my bag. Flashlight? No. Drill? No. Empty water bottle? Bingo. I hurled it towards the naga’s head this time. It struck the side of her headdress before she could get either of the two men back under her spell. Unfortunately, one of the guards saw me. In no time he had his gun trained and was shooting. I edged back from the ledge as the bullet struck the recess below.
“Hey! I’m on your side. Shoot the giant snake monster!” I yelled.
Another bullet hit the ledge.
I frowned. That’s gratitude for you.
I heard one of the men scream. Bullets or no, I edged back to the ledge and got ready to throw the flashlight.
The naga had one of them wrapped in her tail. She raised the struggling and screaming man up to her mouth and bit into his neck before I could throw. He immediately went limp in her arms. She dropped the body unceremoniously and struck like a cobra at the second. Be
fore she bit into his neck, she glanced up at me and hissed.
I was a sitting duck.
Something metal bounced and clinked. An innocent-looking silver ball came into view as it rolled across the ancient tiles towards the naga and her prey.
My phone buzzed. Close and cover your eyes.
“Shit.” I dove backwards and buried my face in my backpack.
There was a pop, and the naga screamed as the room exploded in a burst of light. Even with my eyes covered, I still got a residual flash. A good UV grenade will do that.
I pulled my head out of my backpack to answer my ringing phone. “Rynn, it’s a giant snake woman, not a vampire,” I said.
“They’re dazed, aren’t they? Where are you?”
“Up here.” I stuck my head up over the ledge and waved.
The remaining guard was out cold, and the naga writhed on the floor.
Rynn nodded at me. “Are you all right?” he said, and pulled what looked like a high-powered rifle off his shoulder to aim at the naga. He fired a small dart into her tail.
Tranquilizer darts. Damn, I wished I’d thought of that.
“Owl, I’d hurry up and get down from there. I used a horse tranquilizer, but I have no idea how long it will last.”
Getting down proved a lot easier than getting up. I walked over to the collapsed set of stairs and slid down.
Rynn was waiting for me. I had to do a double take. It was a completely different image from the one I was used to at the bar. He was dressed in some sort of modern black motorbike armor. Besides the tranquilizer rifle, he had two different guns holstered on his belt, both with what looked like silencers. If Rynn hadn’t been as good looking as he was, I’d have sworn he was some kind of black ops.
“Ahh, not that I’m not really grateful and all, but what the hell are you doing in Bali, let alone dressed like an assassin?”
Owl and the Japanese Circus Page 10