“We can’t do this,” she said, coughing. “We’re fighting a four-alarm fire with two lousy extinguishers.”
Crow hated to admit it, but Jill was right; the conflagration was overwhelming. Their muscles were anchors, their lungs were singed, and their faces resembled a couple of old-time, black-faced Vaudeville performers. Heavy footfalls pounded up the steps below, and Jill dropped her extinguisher and embraced him. Tears blazed white trails on her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Crow, but I just can’t go on,” she cried. Her arms squeezed him tighter.
Unearthly shrieks mingled with the ponderous treading, drawing ever closer. A terrifying profile appeared on the landing below Crow and Jill. He shoved her behind him and released the last of the chemical in his extinguisher at their adversary.
A high-pitched screech erupted from the thing as it writhed and twisted beneath the powdery coating. Jill and Crow backed away as the fiend climbed through the smoke and melted into a sizzling white puddle.
Despite his exhaustion, Crow lifted his arm in triumph, then lifted Jill off her feet and spun her around. “We did it!” he croaked in a gravel voice.
He planted her lightly on the floor and commanded the house to spray the extinguisher chemical in every room and on the mansion’s exterior. “But keep the stuff off the people in the house.” He thought a minute. “Plus I need another extinguisher for myself, one that contains an endless supply of the chemical.”
It appeared instantly in his hand.
“What are you up to?” Jill asked nervously.
“I’m going out to scalp me some monsters,” he replied.
“It’s too dangerous,” she argued. “Stay here with me.”
“It won’t be safe for any of us as long as any of those fire-eaters are left. I have to.”
She kissed him lightly. “Be careful. Promise?”
“I’ll promise if you’ll give me another one of those.”
They kissed again, and Crow rushed down the stairs into the thinning smoke and thickening powder fog. In less than an hour, Crow and the few remaining gargoyles wiped out the fiery-fiends, but the mansion and grounds were charred and smoking like the aftermath of a western forest fire. Crow dropped to the warm ground, and his rapid breathing resembled wheezing bellows. The mansion was devastated. All the window glass was gone, the ivy that had clung to the brick was a maze of black threads, and the bricks were cracked and coated with an ebony glaze. Two of the dragons returned to hibernation as massive, gnarled oaks, but the depressions where the other two trees had stood remained deserted.
As Crow glanced down, he noticed a single green filament protruding from the black mud. He bent and examined it. A blade of grass. A new shoot!
He surveyed the desolate landscape again and watched more blades erupt from the earth. A very faint sound from the direction of the house caught his attention. There was now glass in the upstairs window where he and Jill had witnessed the battle. Gradually, the house began repairing itself, and one by one, the gargoyles repopulated the perimeter walls and gutters.
“I’m witnessing a miracle,” he said quietly, but his celebration was short-lived. He suddenly remembered Nick and Danforth and sprinted into the house, screaming for Glenna. She and her wheelchair materialized beside him.
“Thank you, Crow, you brave, sweet man.” She pressed his grimy cheeks between her pudgy hands and kissed his forehead. “Now what can I do for you?”
He described the shocking events at the Greenbush fairgrounds.
“I’m sorry, dear, but I can’t help you. Gabriella’s in a real bad way, and I don’t think she’s going to make it,” Glenna informed him tearfully.
“But we need her. She told Nick that she had a plan for killing Danforth, and I need to know that plan now,” Crow insisted. “If she doesn’t help, Nick’s a dead man!”
“She can’t talk, or I’d ask her.” She shook her head sadly. “Like I said, I’m real sorry. Nick, or Mark, is a fine man, but he’s going to have to deal with Danforth on his own until Gabriella recovers. And that ain’t very likely.”
Crow drifted to the front window and stared out into the remnants of the grounds. “What’s with all those cars crossing the bridge to the island?” he asked.
Glenna wheeled beside him. “Oh dear,” she said anxiously.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m afraid Danforth is having another one of his witches’ ceremonies,” she replied vaguely.
“Ceremony? And what do these witches do at Danforth’s little get-togethers?”
“Oh dear,” she repeated, kneading her hands.
“C’mon, tell me. Please,” Crow pleaded.
“They’re sacrificial ceremonies.”
“What, like animal sacrifices?”
“Human,” she murmured.
“Say again?”
She pulled a lace handkerchief from her pocket. “Human sacrifices, Crow, and from what you told me, I’m afraid that Nick’s the guest of honor. History repeats itself.”
The albatross had ceased circling. The DNA tests were completed and the verdict was in. Rance Osborne was no longer a suspect for Director Anderson’s murder. The President phoned to extend his personal apology and proceeded to appoint Rance acting Director until a permanent replacement was named. Of course, Rance would be among those considered for the permanent position.
Rance’s first official act was to call a meeting with the supervisors of two FBI Homeland Security Terrorist Task Force groups. They created a plan for a swift incursion of the Lake Griffin island research facility the following day, and Rance also arranged for a round-the-clock vigil of Jimmy Bellamy at the Wharton Clinic.
As the men were leaving the conference room, Rance’s secretary announced he had an important call on line three. He waved his hand for the others to wait as he picked up the phone. It was Crow, an unusually excited Crow. He listened closely to the Indian’s incredible account of their twenty-four hours in Duneden, and when he was finished, Rance ordered him to sit tight. The cavalry was on its way.
Rance spun around and addressed his staff. “Gentlemen, it’s back to the drawing board. We have a level four emergency.”
Chapter 59
Danforth and Nick materialized outside a dungeon cell below the underground castle. Nick glanced in both directions and was startled by two half-Neanderthal and half-centaur guards standing silently a few yards away in the tunnel.
“They part of your freak carnival?” Nick demanded.
Danforth remained unruffled. “Yes and no. No, the public never got to see them, and yes, they have been used by my family as bodyguards for centuries, including at the carnival.” He paused. “I see that you are somewhat interested in my attractions.”
“Not really,” he disagreed. “How you use your experimental failures to earn a living doesn’t intrigue me at all.”
Danforth laughed humorlessly. “Oh, but you should be interested. You were a by-product of those early experiments. Unfortunately, Thomas became uncontrollable and you, Mark, were too ordinary. Just like your mother, I’m afraid.”
Nick’s blue eyes were ice. “So you murdered her.”
“Tsk tsk, what an offensive accusation. Your brother was to blame, I’m afraid. During your delivery, he ripped away her vital organs. Of course, there was nothing any of us could do to save her. It was a real pity, too, because Joanna wanted children in the worst way, and when she learned that she was pregnant with twins, she was overjoyed. I had her brought to the lab for the proper pre-natal care, and she was never seen by the outside world again.”
“That kidnapping story was a clever way to inherit her fortune with no questions asked, while the entire country regarded you as the poor victim.” His words were venom.
“That’s very astute of you,” he said, with a slight bow. “I inherited quite a tidy sum.”
“But it wasn’t enough to resume your precious Mortal Eclipse research after you murdered Daniel Merrick and the government fund
ing dried up,” Nick continued.
Danforth’s face hardened. “That was an accident,” he snapped.
“Convenient.”
“Yes, very,” he replied tersely.
“So you recruited dirty money from South America, money that couldn’t be traced to you back then, but today’s a different story, especially when you’re running for President. With pit bull reporters and super-computers, you knew there would be an official background check and media exposes in the works, so you had Thomas eliminate all your Mortal Eclipse partners. With no witnesses, any connections between you and the South American drug cartels couldn’t be collaborated,” Nick said.
“Quite.”
“So what I don’t get is why you abandoned the project when you had limitless financial backing,” Nick asked.
“Ah, after you and Thomas escaped, there were too many loose ends. If any of you had talked to the authorities, the whole mess could’ve blown up in my face,” he explained.
“But what about all the project employees? Wouldn’t they talk?”
Danforth smiled. “They’re still here on the island.”
“Where?”
“I’m afraid that my somewhat large lake guardians get extremely hungry after a day’s swim.” He allowed Nick’s imagination to draw its own conclusions.
The thought revolted Nick, but he refused to betray his emotions. “I’m glad to hear that the shutdown didn’t have anything to do with your missing journal,” he said, hoping to hit Danforth right where it hurt.
Danforth’s eyes burned hellfire. “You know where it is?”
Nick shrugged.
“Tell me!” he screamed.
“My secrets will die with me.”
“I could torture you,” he snarled.
“You could try, but you know I’m trained FBI. We don’t talk.”
Danforth remained silent, considering his options.
“All right, take the secret with you. This conversation is at an end.” He waved his arms and Nick was inside the cell looking out.
Before Danforth vanished, Nick hailed him. “Just one more question.”
Danforth’s eyes burned through Nick. He bowed politely once more. “Very well.”
“Why did you put me up for adoption if I was so ordinary?”
“I wanted to observe you, to see if you developed any special powers, as it were.”
“But four years isn’t a very long observation window.”
“Correct. But as your brother tried to kill me at age four, I thought it best to close that window.”
Nick suddenly felt dizzy, and he fought for balance. His mind was an uncontrollable windmill of memories and emotions.
“If this is one of your feeble attempts to trick me, Bellamy, it won’t work,” Danforth warned him.
Nick’s eyelids burst open, the blue awash in a sea of molten hatred. “You’re responsible for Gabriella’s disability, you bastard!”
“Now wait at minute! Who are you calling a . . .”
“You!” He pointed directly at Danforth as spittle flew from his lips. “I remember everything now. Thomas in the guise of a little boy came for me the day that he and I sneaked into your underground ceremonial chamber. He told me that we could play on the island, but Gabriella couldn’t come along. She followed us, and I remember seeing you standing at the corner of Valerie Jacob’s house.
“All of a sudden, Gabriella’s legs collapsed. Since I never saw her again until yesterday, I never knew about the wheelchair. I thought she’d tripped at the time, but you put a crippling spell on her, didn’t you?” Nick demanded.
Danforth smiled again. “One does what one has to do. At least I didn’t kill her.”
“Release her!”
“Maybe we can barter for her release. How about a trade? Her legs for my journal.”
“No deals. Just do it, or you’ll be sorry.”
“Such a naïve threat.” He scratched his chin. “That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it, as they say.”
Nick turned away from Danforth and ventured deeper into his cell. “Consider it left.”
Danforth was gone when Nick looked back. Nick studied his new surroundings. The malodor of mold, dust, and sulfur assailed his nostrils as well as the sickly-sweet odor of decay. And death. He had no doubts that these walls had seen their fair share of gruesome deaths.
He checked every mortar seam, irregular stone, and bar in his prison, but there was no promise of escape. Nick’s heart was a sledgehammer as he stood in the ocean of darkness, pondering his inevitable death. It was ironic that as soon as he had discovered his past, his true name, and the beautiful woman of his dreams, he was doomed to die.
His mind struggled with that discouraging fact. The idea of dying on a satanic altar was unreal. Everything about the past few days was unreal. The line separating the natural and supernatural had been erased for him. It was as if he had slapped down his fifty bucks for admission to Imaginary World where the death never stops. However, one aspect of this madness was perfectly clear to him. Life was merciless.
In the dungeon, there was no concept of time. Nick had no way of knowing if ten minutes or two hours had passed since Danforth disappeared. His watch and weapons had been magically stripped from him during the blink-of-an-eye journey from the Reverend Curtis’s striped tent to the castle. Every heartbeat of time was a tedious, monotonous existence.
Adding to his distress was his concern for Gabriella’s health. The edge in the housekeeper’s voice when she had described Gabriella’s condition made recovery sound hopeless. He paced the darkness. If there was a single spark of life left in her, she would’ve rescued him by now.
Nick considered Crow. Did he survive the attack on the manor and contact Osborne? Danforth intimated that the whole place was to be destroyed. If that had happened, Nick had not only lost a good and trusted friend, but also a potential rescuer as well.
Even if Crow did get in touch with Rance, neither of them knew where he was. He was his only hope, and that seemed bleak at the moment. Although he was an expert in several martial arts, the size of his centaur guardians was intimidating. And he was outnumbered to boot. Yet it was better to die fighting than to lose his soul to Danforth.
The clatter of the centaurs’ hooves drew close. Nick slumped on the dusty slab and buried his face in his hands, pretending to be a spineless wreck. His only hope was that the centaurs would lower their guard long enough for him to exploit their vulnerability and escape. It was definitely a long shot, but long shots came in.
The flickering torches appeared outside his cell bars. The centaurs snorted and stamped in front of his cell door. Nick remained still. The snorting increased, but he ignored them. Finally, he heard the clank of a key against the ancient lock, the cylinder creak, and the latch click. The hinges groaned as the door swung open. Nick tensed, ready to attack.
The guards suddenly squealed excitedly and stamped their hoofs. Nick peaked through his fingers and saw a large shadow hit them with such force that their broken bodies were wedged between the bars like cheese in a slicer.
“C’mon!” a familiar voice urged.
Nick ambled cautiously to the open door. The torches lay extinguished on the floor.
“Who’s there?” Nick demanded.
“Neo. Now hurry. We’ve got about sixty seconds before Danforth finds out you’ve escaped. Follow me and shut up!”
Nick did as Neo requested, but was bewildered by his uncoordinated movement through the tunnel. It seemed like Neo had a . . . tail. But was that possible? Nick hastily decided that anything was possible in Duneden.
The tunnel sloped down at a precipitous angle so that they made good time reaching the underground river. Torches lit the grotto at the end of the tunnel, and Nick’s mouth fell open.
“You’re a . . . fish,” he exclaimed.
“Save the wise cracks!” Neo hissed. “Just take a deep breath, and I’ll take you on the water ride of your life.”
Neo wrapped his powerful arms around Nick, and they dropped into the pristine water.
“Keep your eyes and mouth shut,” Neo instructed. “We’re gonna be haulin’ ass.”
Nick nodded, and they slipped beneath the surface. They rocketed along the snaking river, and then shot upward, eventually breaking the surface of Lake Griffin. Nick gasped for breath in the mist blanketing the lake.
“Lake Griffin?” he asked.
“Yeah. My favorite hangout lately,” he replied sarcastically.
Thunder rumbled across the lake, followed by another round of showers.
“Time to get you home.” Neo hooked Nick’s waist and towed him to the Wolfe dock.
“Sorry about the . . . tail, Neo,” Nick said. “I’ll find a way to fix it somehow.”
“You’d better, or I’ll be Moby Dick to your Ahab.”
“Seriously, I’ll find a way.”
“Thanks, man.”
Lightning illuminated an angry Danforth standing on the dock.
“I can’t touch you here, Nick. This is sacred Wolfe ground. But I will get you, and right where it hurts!” He laughed manically. “If I can’t have you today, I’ll sacrifice the next best Bellamy.” His laughter carried across the lake as he slowly dissolved into the night.
“Noooo!” Nick cried.
“Jimmy?” Neo asked.
“Yeah. I’ve got to find Gabriella. She’s the only one who can get me to the Wharton Clinic before Danforth!” Nick clambered onto the dock and ran into the woods.
“Good luck,” Neo whispered and stroked away from shore.
The downpour drenched Nick as he ran. Tears mingled with the rain and stung his eyes. Danforth planned to kill his Jimmy. He was appalled and angry and scared. The destroyer had to be stopped, but how? That’s what he hoped to learn as he entered the manor and shouted Gabriella’s name.
Glenna Guttentag appeared before him. Nick rapidly described Danforth’s threat as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Does Danforth know where to find your son?” Glenna asked, her gray brow knitted with concern.
Mortal Eclipse Page 35