The buckle came loose with a click, and he fell onto what had once been the ceiling but now was the floor. On hands and knees he gazed down the aisle toward the back of the plane. It was missing and he could look out into the thick jungle growth.
He had to be careful, the body of the plane gently swayed from side to side with every one of his movements. All he needed was to move too much, or too fast, and send the whole fuselage crashing down from where it was perched in the treetops. Lewis doubted that his luck would hold out a second time.
Carefully he began to crawl down the length of the plane. It swayed gently with his every move, and the passengers’ dangling hands brushed against his face like jungle vines hanging from trees. He refused to look up at them. All he wanted to do was get out of the plane.
Suddenly, with a moan from the trees upon which it rested, the plane pitched forward and Lewis found himself tumbling toward the jagged opening where the tail used to be. He reached out, grabbing for anything that would stop his fall, managing to take hold of the hand of a dangling corpse, but the dead flesh was slick and his hand slipped through its fingers.
For an instant he was soaring through open space, and then he hit the thick leaves and branches of the trees with bone-jarring stops and starts until he finally landed on the damp, jungle floor.
He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, afraid to move, afraid that something vital had been broken or punctured on his way down. But finally he gathered his courage and wiggled his fingers and toes, then raised his arms and legs. There was pain, but nothing that he could determine as crippling.
Slowly he climbed to his feet, looking at the dense, tropical forest around him. Up through the trees he could just about make out the body of the plane, and over to his right he could see an engine that had been torn from a wing.
It was a miracle that he had survived, and he immediately wondered if he had been the only one. The jungle was so dense that it literally blotted out the sun, so if his master had managed to survive the crash he would have been protected from its killing rays. Lewis wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. A strange kind of bond seemed to be forming between him and the vampire, and he had to wonder if it was more of the blood-drinker’s hypnotic power.
Not having an answer, Lewis started to trudge through the jungle. He had no idea where he was going, but he had to do something. The ground was like a sponge beneath his feet, the years and years of leaves and rotting vegetation making a sort of squishy carpet atop the jungle floor.
“Hello?” he called out as he walked. There was no answer except for the squawk of some exotic jungle life.
Lewis kept on, occasionally finding broken luggage, clothes waving in the humid tropical breeze.
He wasn’t sure why exactly, but eventually he found himself drawn to a particular section of the primordial forest, finally stopping before a curtain of vines. Something told him that he had to get beyond this curtain, a strange urge that he had no real explanation for, except the mental manipulations of the vampire lord Vladek.
Lewis could fight it no longer, and besides, what else did he have to do? He rushed the green curtain, digging his hands into the vines, trying to push them apart. They were heavy and stiff, covered with small, razor-sharp thorns that bit into his flesh. He could feel the blood running from his hands, down his arms, but it didn’t stop him.
The deeper he pushed into the vines, the more unyielding they became, and suddenly he found himself trapped within the thorn-covered growths. Panic set in, and he began to struggle, his hands leaving bloody smears across the vegetable tendrils.
And then the strangest thing occurred: Wherever his blood touched, the vines began to move, withdrawing, curling up as if to let him pass. Lewis began to frantically wipe his blood on the leaves around him and soon he emerged on the other side of the green curtain.
Stifling an insane giggle, Lewis stumbled out from the prison of vines, into a clearing where he saw the most amazing of things.
Vladek stood, the head of Gideon clutched beneath his arm, and emerging from the jungle all around them were the strangest-looking animals Lewis had ever seen. They appeared to be jaguars, but there was a slight difference in their shape and the way they moved.
The jaguars saw him first, immediately tensing, glaring at him with emerald green eyes. Then one by one they rose to stand upon their hind legs, as if they were part human.
Vladek turned to see what it was that had captured the cats’ attentions and smiled widely when his eyes fell on Lewis. “How fortuitous,” the vampire said with a twinkle in his eyes.
It was almost as if Vladek was happy to see him.
“To pass, there must be an offering,” the leader of the jaguar beasts said with a snarl, baring its long, yellowed teeth.
Vladek nodded before turning back to the human. “I am glad to see that you managed to survive,” he said.
The human moved closer, the stench of new blood wafting from his lacerated flesh. “I didn’t know what happened,” he said, appearing genuinely pleased to see the gathering. “Do you have water? I’m so thirsty.”
“No time for drink,” Gideon’s head croaked from beneath the vampire’s arm. “The offering must be made.”
The jaguar beasts spread out, circling them, the leader padding stealthily closer. “It has been a long time since we’ve tasted the flesh of humanity.”
“Flesh of humanity?” Lewis asked, the stink of fear starting to come off of him in foul-smelling waves. “Wha—what does he mean?”
“They are the guardians of the jungle surrounding the temple,” Vladek explained. “In order for us to pass, we must offer a sacrifice.”
The jaguar leader growled, low and rumbling, a fat, pink tongue snaking from his mouth to lick its dark, orange muzzle. “Sacrifice,” it snarled, and the others echoed the word.
Sacrifice.
“You don’t mean …,” Lewis began, slowly backing toward the thick curtain of vines.
“I’m afraid we do,” Vladek replied.
Lewis dashed for the jungle, but was quickly set upon by the jaguar beasts. They drove the screaming man to the ground, their fangs sinking into the soft flesh of his arms and legs to drag him toward the thick underbrush.
“Please, no!” Lewis shrieked, thrashing desperately in their clutches. “You can’t let this happen,” he cried out to Vladek as he was dragged closer to the jungle’s edge. “I did what you asked … I served you without question….”
“And your loyalty was greatly appreciated,” the vampire said, turning his attention back to the cat creature standing before him.
The jaguar leader was watching the struggle with bright, hungry eyes. “So long since we’ve tasted the sweet meat of humanity,” it said again, a long trail of saliva dripping from its slavering jaws.
“There has been a sacrifice,” Vladek said, attempting to capture the beast’s attention.
“Yes,” it said, the answer ending in a throaty growl as it turned to Vladek.
“Then you will grant us passage.”
The jaguar dropped down to all fours, turning ever so slightly toward the impenetrable jungle foliage behind it. It pawed at the ground, and Vladek watched as the vegetation seemed to come alive, pulling apart to create an opening through which they could pass.
“The offering has been made,” the jaguar leader said, again gazing off in the direction his meaty prize had been taken.
Saying nothing more, the beast slunk off to disappear into the shadows of the jungle.
“Quickly,” Gideon urged. “Before the accursed cats decide they’ve developed a taste for vampire flesh.”
Vladek headed for the emerald passage. Immediately it began to close as they passed, and when they had at last reached the other side, it no longer existed. There was only an impenetrable wall of jungle at their backs.
But that did not concern them, for they had at last found what they had yearned for so long to reach.
The pyramidlike structure appear
ed to be as old as time, its many stone steps climbing all the way up to the squared-off top, overgrown with thick roots and lush vegetation.
“The temple of A’Ranka,” Gideon whispered in awe.
“At last.”
Bram liked it inside the musty chamber deep beneath the Brimstone facility.
He’d spent hours going over and over again the information he’d gotten about Gideon, the Yad’Zeen and their gods and goddesses. And as his research progressed, he began to understand that if Vladek and Gideon were indeed attempting to reawaken the ancient death goddess, then he and his team were going to need a little more help.
He’d gone to the Archivist, and by asking the right questions, had been led here, the ancient Arcanum storage chamber, where the Brimstone Network sorcerers stored all their important books, scrolls, and tablets. This was where what he sought would have been kept.
The Archivist had given Bram the magickal combination to the room and had told him exactly where to look—and there it was. Carefully, he removed the ancient scroll from the stone chest in which it had been stored, placing it inside a protective plastic tube. Bram doubted that it had been used in centuries, if ever, and he wasn’t even sure this was a good idea. But it was the only one thing he could think of to help his team if they found themselves going up against an angry goddess.
Bram looked about the room. He wished that he could stay in the solitude of the chamber, reading through the spell books from all over the world, from throughout history and before. But he had other responsibilities. It was nearly time for the team to begin their mission. With a heavy sigh of resignation, he left the ancient Arcanum storage chamber, closing the door tightly behind him.
He would come back another day, when the world wasn’t in quite so much danger.
At Gideon’s urging, Vladek began to climb.
The stone steps of the temple were covered in thick, snaking vines, but it did little to hinder his progress. The vampire bounded up, the sorcerer’s head clutched tightly beneath his arm.
“We’re so very close, Vladek,” Gideon moaned excitedly. “I can feel her skittering across my brain, waiting for us to free her.”
Rays of golden sunlight cut through the nearly impenetrable covering of leaves in the towering jungle trees, beams of yellow light touching sections of the temple stairs. The closer to the top, the more sun broke through the dense vegetation to caress the temple.
Vladek avoided these patches that would have burned his body like the strongest of acid, managing to stay in shadow until he reached the top of the temple.
“What is this I see?” the vampire cooed as his eyes fell upon a crumbled section of pyramid wall along the face of the temple. Carefully he approached and stuck his head in, his vision cutting through the impenetrable darkness with ease. “A way inside,” the vampire said, examining the passage before him.
“A way to reach our goddess,” the head of the sorcerer agreed.
Vladek climbed inside and was immediately immersed in the coolness of shadow. He welcomed this. The vampire was far more comfortable in the darkness, and looked forward to the day when the sun would no longer be permitted to touch the planet with its burning fingers of gold.
The corridor ceiling was low, and he had to bow his head slightly as he moved through it. The walls on either side were adorned with primitive art depicting the great battle between the forces of Borphagal and the dust goddess, A’Ranka. The final wall depicted the goddess’s last days as she was brought to her temple in the jungle and imprisoned inside a deep pit in its very heart.
Vladek held Gideon’s head up so that he, too, could read the drawings.
“If my translation is accurate, the goddess is to be found not at the top of the pyramid, but below,” Vladek said.
“I think you are correct,” Gideon replied. “Bring me over a little farther so that—”
But there came a sudden rumble, and the rocky floor beneath Vladek’s feet dropped away to reveal a yawning abyss below.
And before the vampire had a chance to react, he was falling.
Down, down, down to the stygian darkness below.
Down to where the goddess A’Ranka awaited them.
* * *
Bram returned to the Archivist’s chamber to find his entire team waiting for him.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, entering the room, pack slung over his shoulder.
They followed him with nervous eyes, eyes that hoped he had found another plan to save the world from Vladek’s and Gideon’s plans.
Sorry, but it wasn’t the case.
“Are we ready?” Bram asked.
They nodded, their apprehension coming off them in waves.
Bram had to stifle the feelings of guilt that threatened to rise to the surface. As their leader, he couldn’t afford it. He made the decisions and formulated the plan, and that was something he was going to have to learn to live with.
Again, Bram was reminded of his father, and was in awe of the responsibilities that he had faced nearly every moment of every day. Bram had a lot to live up to.
He looked across the room at the Archivist, the ghostly figure of his father, standing beside the equally unsubstantial desk.
“Have you found anything else that might help us?” Bram asked.
The Archivist stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Regarding the operation in Nocturnia,” he said. “All recorded information seems to point to the fact that Vladek’s heart is stored somewhere in the royal palace.”
Bogey scoffed, rolling his large, dark eyes. “Is that all?” he asked sarcastically. “I’m surprised I’m not being sent alone for this one, it’s so easy.” The Mauthe Dhoog quickly looked at Bram before looking away.
“Ahem,” the Archivist coughed, responding to the interruption. “Infiltrate the royal palace and I believe you will locate the heart somewhere within.”
“I’ll find it,” Emily growled, touching a clawed finger to the side of her snout. “If it smells like him.”
The Archivist turned his attention to Bram. “It has been documented that the temple of A’Ranka is guarded by the jungle spirits placed there to dissuade the curious and foolhardy.”
“So wouldn’t these jungle spirits keep our bad guys from getting into trouble?” Dez asked.
“One would hope, but since the event has wreaked havoc with so much pertaining to the magickal, I can’t even begin to guess how the spirits have been affected.”
“Let’s hope they haven’t been, and they stopped Vladek and his pet head at the door,” Dez said, reaching up so that his father could give him a high five.
Bram waited for the Archivist to continue, but it appeared that he was done. “All right, then,” he said, adjusting the pack on his shoulder.
The others took this as a signal to pick up their own packs prepared by Stitch.
“You should have everything you need to complete your assignments inside your packs,” Stitch informed them.
“Any snacks?” Bogey asked, pulling open the zipper. “I could use a little something right now.” His face screwed up in disgust as he perused his pack’s contents. “Forget I asked,” he grumbled.
“There’s no time for snacks, anyway,” Bram said. “I need you to rift us two passages.”
Bram gestured to the Archivist, who produced two crudely drawn maps that now floated in the air.
“Not all that great,” the Mauthe Dhoog said, examining the maps. His rifting skill depended heavily on his familiarity with the location.
“Sorry, but it’s all we’ve got,” Bram told him. “Can you do it?”
Bogey studied one map, and then the other before slowly nodding. “Yeah, I think I’ve got it.”
Bram looked around at them again, at his team, amazed at his feelings for these individuals who were strangers to him less than a few months ago.
Now he would trust them with his life.
Trust them with the fate of the world.
“Let’s do this,” he
said.
And he watched as Bogey first cracked his knuckles, and then began to make the strange sound that seemed to come from somewhere far back in his throat.
The Mauthe Dhoog raised his arms as crackling bolts of magick began to leap from the tips of his fingers, rifting the passages through time and space that would take the teams to their mission locations.
Taking them from here to there.
12.
IT WAS DARKER THAN A BLUDOVIAN BLOODSnake’s soul.
Bogey stood beside the rift into Nocturnia, holding open the tear he’d made in time and space so that his friends could pass. Then he allowed the rift to close with a sound very much like the remnants of a particularly delicious blue Slushie being sucked through a straw, and they were immersed in the blackness of the vampire world.
“Just as nice as the last time I was here,” Bogey said, his eyes adjusting to the dark.
He looked up into the sky at the two full moons that hung there. If it wasn’t for their luminescence there would be no light here at all. From what he understood, Nocturnia was a magickal world specifically found for the vampires by the Network, where they could continue to survive and to be a threat to no other species. It was a world of perpetual darkness, where a sun never shone.
“Do you have any idea where we are?” Stitch asked, his two different colored eyes blinking wildly as they adjusted to the lack of light.
Bogey was about to answer when he noticed Emily toss back her large, furry head and sniff the air.
“There’s lots of them nearby,” she growled.
“That’s because we’re near the center of the city,” the Mauthe Dhoog explained. “If my memory is right, the marketplace is up here.”
He remembered when his talent for rifting had first kicked in, how when he was supposed to be asleep in his hut in Guttswallow, he was actually rifting to new and different worlds. And if Earth was at the top of the list as one of his absolute favorite places in all the myriad dimensions to visit, Nocturnia was at the very bottom.
Bogey gestured for them to follow, and they moved cautiously up a thin alleyway between two stone buildings. As they got closer to the end, they heard the sound of voices from somewhere in the street ahead. Bogey gestured for them to stop, pressing himself to the side of one of the buildings so as not to be seen.
The Shroud of A'Ranka (Brimstone Network Trilogy) Page 11