Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure

by Lee Alexander

  Souka sat forward in response. “Vlad Tepes, the Voivode of Wallachia? Vlad the Impaler?”

  “Yes, that Vlad,” Jonas said.

  “That has far-reaching, terrible, and probably very important implications. However—”

  A knock at the door interrupted Souka. Both men looked at the door in confusion, then Jonas remembered the earlier phone call.

  “It’s probably the coffee,” he said as he started to stand. Souka waved him down before speaking.

  “I have it, my friend. Please, take a seat, you are my guest.”

  Jonas shrugged and sat back down. Souka crossed the short distance to the door and opened it as before. Jonas saw Souka was startled by the person at the door. He didn’t hear the words that were quietly spoken, but that didn’t matter. The door exploded inward, throwing Souka to the floor. It rattled against the wall and rebounded back toward the doorframe. A large white hand reached out and stopped it dead.

  “Mister Quartermain, imagine my surprise when you didn’t come back out after arranging for the paperwork to be brought in.”

  Calhoun stepped through the doorway; an ominous and threatening presence. He had a black wrap over his head, obscuring everything but his eyes. The malice that radiated from him was palpable. Souka slowly picked himself up from the floor. His left arm was at an odd angle, which he supported with his right. The blow had broken his arm. He remained silent, moving towards the desk.

  Calhoun kept his eyes on Jonas. They were deep set, unlike how he had appeared in the car just minutes before. The sclera was nearly invisible in his squinted eyes, and the irises appeared reddish. It looked almost like he had blown multiple blood vessels in each eye. Even though his face was covered, he was clearly smirking.

  “Well, Mister Quartermain, where is it?”

  Panicked, Jonas shot a look at Souka. The man nodded ever so slightly, his good arm behind his back.

  “What are you talking about Professor?”

  “Professor?! Ha,” barked Calhoun. “I am so much more than that. Soon, soon I will have the power I have been dreaming of for years.”

  “Okay, but what the hell are you talking about?” Jonas’ voice squeaked in fear in the middle of the sentence, making him blush.

  “The bracelet! The one you stole!”

  “What good is that?” Jonas squirmed deeper into his chair, attempting to get away from the man stalking closer.

  “I need it for the ritual. I already have the tablet; I just need the essence trapped inside the bangle.” Calhoun took another step toward the terrified young man. “With the bracelet, I will be united with my master and given everlasting life.”

  “You stole the tablet from here? Why?”

  “Stupid boy. I’ve taught you for years and still you fail to listen. Give me the bracelet, and perhaps I’ll spare you in the coming weeks.” Calhoun towered over the young man. He was so focused he failed to see or hear Souka slip out of the room.

  “I don’t have it,” Jonas lied, his voice shaking with fear. He tried to move out of the chair, and Calhoun snarled as he clamped the younger man’s arms in place with a grip of steel.

  “Liar. I saw you take it. I saw you use it in your tent.”

  “Why didn’t you take it then?”

  “Because you were the guinea pig,” Calhoun hissed. “You had to test it for me, can’t go risking my life–”

  Just then, Jonas kicked out savagely. He thrust his entire bodyweight into the blow, lifting Calhoun by his crotch. The man stumbled back, wheezing and holding himself around the midsection. Jonas bolted from the room. A guttural roar followed him. He looked over his shoulder as he ran and watched Calhoun burst into the hallway.

  The scarf over his head fell back as he sprinted, revealing his badly burned head. It looked like the scars were years old already. Jonas turned back to the hallway ahead of him and rounded the corner, then flew through the still open door into the main museum hallways. He fumbled with the pocket that held the bangle, then slipped it on. No memory overtook him, but a surge of power told him it was in place. Souka slammed the door, then he braced against it and pointed at a nearby chair.

  “Got it,” Jonas said breathlessly. He grabbed the chair, then slammed it under the handle. A second later, the door shook and the chair screeched on the floor. They broke into a run, Jonas following Souka through the confusing maze. Sweat dripped constantly down Souka’s face, and he winced seemingly with every step. They ran past gaggles of tourists which drew many alarmed looks. Shouts of ‘guards’ or ‘security’ followed them. Some of the staff looked on in bewilderment as they used bulky radios to call for help.

  They arrived at the main lobby out of breath. Jonas sat Souka in a chair, then shoved his way through the crowd to the information desk. He demanded they call an ambulance for the wounded man. A random bystander behind him pushed him, snarling that he had been there first. Jonas turned around, a glint in his eye. He pushed back with one hand and the man, though far larger, tumbled back into the line.

  “Call the cops, and get that ambulance here now,” he said to the receptionist. She worriedly nodded, already dialing. Then he turned and stalked back toward the greater museum. He was going to finish the fight with his former Professor and the mummy that had possessed his mind.

  54

  “Where are you…?” Taunted Calhoun. Jonas could hear him stomping around in the exhibit. “I know you’re here somewhere. You need me to give you the tablet, because you think he will choose you.”

  Calhoun cackled, clearly having already lost his mind. Jonas drew the curtain far enough aside to peek into the large room. Calhoun stalked from one side of the room to the other, peering at the priceless artifacts he had helped retrieve. His arms were out to the sides, claw-like hands ready to strike.

  Jonas was about to enter when Calhoun spoke up again, startling him.

  “If you don’t show yourself soon, I’ll have to use your precious friend in the ritual! That’s right, I don’t need the bracelet, that would just help bring HIM back!” His shouts echoed off the walls and displays. He sounded barely human. “Come out, come out!” He taunted again.

  Jonas threw the curtain aside and stepped into the room. Calhoun whirled to look at him. He held his hands out to show he was unarmed. The bracelet caught Calhoun’s eye, and he started over.

  “Who do you have?”

  “That ginger-haired asshole that corrects everything.”

  “Dylan? What did he ever do to you?”

  “My dad this and my dad that,” Calhoun said in a wheedling voice. “Makes me sick. At least you push yourself because of some romanticized image of archaeology. That boy just does it because his father expects it.”

  “And that’s a reason to kill an innocent man?”

  “Bah. Give me the bangle and I’ll set the idiot free.” Calhoun continued to circle, looking like a feral animal trapped in a human body.

  “What guarantee do I have that you’ll let him go?”

  “Oh, you don’t. But I’m your professor. Haven’t I earned your trust over these last three years?”

  Jonas shook his head. He held his wrist up and showed it to the creature.

  “This stays with me until I know he’s safe.”

  Calhoun stalked closer, and despite the panic, Jonas stood his ground. It’s what Indy would do, after all. The man-thing reached out and yanked at the bangle, but it didn’t budge. He snarled savagely, then looked at the younger man.

  “I guess you’ll be coming along after all.”

  The blow to the side of his head was fast and hard. He blacked out instantly.

  Jonas woke some unknown time later with a bag over his head. His hands were tied behind his back, the ruby bracelet digging into his wrist. His legs were similarly bound. He bounced and slammed around the empty cargo area of the work van. He had a bad feeling he knew where they were headed. It sounded like they were already out of the city and on the bumpy dirt roads leading to the Murdus site.


  Calhoun hummed to himself tunelessly. It grated on Jonas’ ears and nerves as he continued to bang his head on seemingly every surface in the van. Finally, he shouted through the bag.

  “I get that you’re going to kill me, but do you have to torture me too?”

  Calhoun chuckled dryly, then went back to humming. The trip lasted a lifetime. Jonas tried slamming his head against a surface many times to knock himself back out, but he couldn’t muster the speed or power necessary. He suffered the ride, trying to concoct a plan once they arrived. He guessed Calhoun would unload him directly into the palace, then put him in the room with the ritual table. There, his former professor would slit his throat while chanting in the ancient Egyptian language to complete the ritual. The thought did not encourage him. He felt hopeless as he struggled fruitlessly against his bonds.

  When the van suddenly lurched to a stop, he was thrown against the back of the seats, knocking the wind out of him. The side door slid open and a strong arm yanked the burlap sack from his head, tearing a handful of hair out. Jonas wanted to scream with the pain, but couldn’t draw the breath for it. Calhoun hiked him up onto a shoulder, carrying him like a sack of potatoes into the palace. All the work lights had been taken away during the day, leaving the building dark. Calhoun seemed to be unaffected by the darkness.

  To his surprise, Jonas was tossed to the side against a wall in the ritual room.

  “Ow,” he wheezed.

  “Get over it. You’ll be dealing with much worse soon,” Calhoun snarled. Then he turned to the table and removed a sack from the body resting there. In the dim moonlight, Jonas barely recognized the slack form of Dylan.

  “You see, this ritual requires a victim of lucky blood. This here is my luckiest student. He had the worst grades, the least aptitude, and no desire to learn. He was skating by on daddy’s money.” Calhoun slapped the boy’s face hard, startling Dylan awake.

  He blinked fuzzily, then looked around. When he realized where he was, he started to squirm against the restraints already in place. He opened his mouth to scream and Calhoun stuffed a rag in to silence him. He turned back to Jonas and started speaking again.

  “You might say he’s the unluckiest, if he’s to be sacrificed. But his life force will be the power needed to bring my lord Atakheramen back.”

  Dylan shook his head, sobbing through the gag. He looked at Jonas, pleading with his eyes. Calhoun reached behind his back, then drew out a black k-bar knife. He looked at the blade, reflecting candlelight all over the room.

  “It’s not an Egyptian design, but it should work.” He lay down under Dylan’s head. With the tilt of the table, any blood that collected would run off and into a shaped spout that would drip to one spot. Calhoun lay with his mouth directly under the spout, then started to chant. Jonas felt something stir, like a phantom wind in the room. The chanting grew louder and louder, until he was shouting, then screaming. The wind built along with the volume of the chanting until it felt like a hurricane.

  At the crescendo of the chant, Calhoun reached up and slashed Dylan’s throat. Bright red arterial blood sprayed up, painting the low ceiling. It gushed out of the ragged cut and into the boy’s hair. He gasped and gurgled as he lay dying on the table. His eyes rolled violently in their sockets; his limbs thrashed on the table. The bright copper-red of his locks turned nearly black in the low light. Blood dripped into Calhoun’s waiting mouth.

  “Hahaha,” roared Calhoun. “I can feel it! The power!” He ripped his shirt open to let the fresh gouts of blood sink into his skin.

  The wind coalesced into a funnel over Dylan, pulling the blood down into the maw of the greedy creature below. The dying boy spasmed one last time, then fell still. At the same moment, the funnel disappeared and the wind died. Calhoun sat up and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  “Yes, I can feel it working. I’m almost there.”

  He stood, then spat in the dead boy’s face.

  “This one wasn’t quite lucky enough.”

  He cut the ropes holding the body in place and threw the corpse against the wall with a multitude of breaking and snapping noises. It slid to the floor in a boneless pile of gore. The vampire was as powerful as ten grown men.

  “Your turn,” he said with evident glee. He grabbed Jonas by the collar and lifted him to his feet. His sharpened nail nicked the skin, drawing blood. Calhoun salivated at the sight, but restrained himself. He picked Jonas up, then roughly put him on the table. Jonas fought with every ounce of strength in him. He was desperate to save his life.

  Calhoun threaded fresh rope through the slots for wrists and ankles. Once the table was ready, he cut the rope on Jonas’ wrists and tied them in place. Jonas struggled the entire time, but the strength of the vampire prevented him from breaking loose. Calhoun bound his ankles next. Jonas thrashed, sitting up and away from the brace for his head. Calhoun tsked, then walked to the head of the table. He placed a hand on Jonas’ chest, forcing him down. Then he leaned forward to strap his head down.

  Jonas saw his opportunity. His right hand hadn’t been tied tightly enough, and was nearly loose. As Calhoun leaned in, he lunged for a vicious headbutt. Forehead contacted delicate nose, and a spurt of dark blood was his reward. Jonas yanked his right hand free, sat up, then freed his left. Calhoun stumbled back, cursing thickly. His knife was forgotten on the floor; he clutched his broken nose.

  Jonas finally yanked the ropes away from his ankles and turned around. Calhoun was still distracted by his freshly inflicted wound. Jonas dropped his shoulder and tackled through the man, sending him flying. He scrambled back and grabbed the knife.

  “You ungrateful little bastard,” Calhoun said, seething. Dark blood poured between his fingers and onto the floor. Jonas stood with the knife in his hand. He tried his best to hold it in an aggressive stance. Calhoun walked forward, still holding his nose with one hand. His voice was thick with blood.

  “You think that will stop me?” He continued forward, forcing Jonas back. They walked until Jonas hit a wall with his back; panic flashed through his eyes. Calhoun smiled wickedly, showing his fangs. Jonas held the dagger with both hands, hoping the monster in front of him wouldn’t notice the tip wavering.

  Calhoun reached out with one large hand, then gripped the blade. He drew blood, still smiling and yanked it out of Jonas’ grip. He tossed the blade aside, then licked his hand. When the blood was gone, Jonas saw that the wound had already healed.

  “I could get used to this,” Calhoun said. He turned his attention back to Jonas. “I think the luck you hold is the key to HIS power.”

  Jonas shook his head. He rubbed the bracelet with his left hand, feeling its power spread through him.

  “If I’m going to die, I might as well die trying to stop a monster like you.”

  Calhoun started to laugh, which was cut short by Jonas launching off the wall with all his augmented strength. Shoulder met gut and both tumbled to the floor. Despite his vampiric strength, Calhoun couldn’t get out from the pin. Jonas headbutted the vampire in the face, breaking fragile cartilage again. Calhoun punched Jonas in the side, howling in pain as he tried to buck the younger man.

  Through the whole sequence of events, both Calhoun and Jonas had forgotten one crucial fact: Jonas’s lighter hadn’t been taken in the rush to leave the city. Calhoun’s hand caught one of the pockets on Jonas’ vest and tore it wide open. The lighter tumbled through the air in slow motion. Both men focused on the glittering gold stamped with two symbols. On one side was Horus’ watching eye. On the other was a shen ring. The shen ring landed on Calhoun’s bared chest.

  A bright flash and loud sizzle broke the stalemate. Calhoun screamed in true pain. The skin around the lighter started to crisp and burn. Even as they jostled back and forth, the lighter remained stuck in place with charred flesh. Jonas pulled his right hand back and slammed his fist into the vampire’s face. He felt a bone break in the impact, unsure if it was his hand or Calhoun’s face. His hand started to throb even through the adrena
line. He looked around for the knife, seeing it a few feet to his left.

  Jonas slammed his fist repeatedly into the vampire’s face, feeling a jolt of pain with each strike as he leaned toward the knife. He felt the blade skitter around as his fingertips touched the handle and nearly fell over. Panic flooded his body. He sat up and dropped an elbow into Calhoun’s eye socket, stunning the man. In the brief moment of respite, Jonas lunged for the knife. The blade shone in the candlelight, still coated in Dylan’s blood. Jonas brought his hand up, then thrust the blade down into Calhoun’s chest. It sparked on the lighter as it contacted, then bit on the bones in his chest. It finally slid home and the fight left his opponent. Calhoun’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened in a silent cry.

  Jonas sat back, covered in blood. He coughed roughly, feeling something broken in his right side. He tried to stand and nearly fell. He heard sizzling and looked at the body of his former professor. The blade of the knife had left a small notch in the lighter. The blade charred the skin of the corpse around the wound.

  A far-off wailing filled the palace, growing with each second. Jonas looked at his hands, one crumpled painfully in a swollen ball, both covered in blood. Then he noticed the vicious slashes across his chest from when his vest and shirt had been torn open. He stumbled out of the ritual room and into the main hall. There, he could see approaching lights flashing red and blue. The old and familiar work van blocked part of the approach, but he could see several cars approaching at high speed. He stumbled out, held his hands up, and fell to his knees.

  55

  Jonas shook his head for what felt like the millionth time. He had a blanket wrapped around him, bandages across his chest, and the medic was looking at his mangled hand. To top it all off, he wore a fancy pair of silver bracelets in the form of handcuffs. He hissed in pain as the medic moved the broken hand around again.