Reawakened (Frankenstein Book 3)

by Dean C. Moore

  The coppery-coated dragon was poised dramatically at the edge of a bluff, but it wasn’t into the valley that it was preparing to swoop down. The song was its way of opening a wormhole—straight into the eye of a sun.

  Stealy and Ramon guarded their eyes with their hands, squinting past shades as black as night, brought into being by Ramon’s mandala magic, which he used to form the lenses of the glasses, using the sacred geometries that kept folding in on themselves kaleidoscopically.

  The dragon continued its song as it flew into the sun at the other end of the wormhole it had conjured, and set itself into hibernation mode, like a bug willingly immersing itself in amber that hadn’t quite hardened all the way yet.

  The portal stayed open just long enough for them to observe the dragon drifting lifelessly, its wings no longer flapping.

  “I understand now why the first dragon split the world in two. It wanted only to get to the molten lava at the center in which it too could spend the rest of eternity. But why?” Ramon asked.

  “I’m sensing a theme here. The savant did as much, hibernating for all these eons. Something about the altered state of hibernation allows them to incubate their powers, grow them, so, when they emerge again, it’s like a butterfly coming out of a chrysalis that a caterpillar fabricated.”

  “Remember when we came up against The Void Master, Tillerman? When Soren was shoved into that cryogenics chamber, it actually allowed him to forge an even better union with the beast, and together their mandala magic grew more powerful still. But how?”

  Stealy revved her motorcycle. “I don’t know. But rebirthing is all the rage. And now the alien queen is using the earth as her womb.”

  “At this stage of their evolution,” Cosmos said, startling them, and strolling up from behind in time to witness the dragon morph settling into repose and the portal closing, “it is easier for them to access all that they are. When awake, the left or right brain predominates, the conscious or the unconscious; they’re cut off from the bulk of their knowing. Until they can learn to be whole while awake, that is the best they can do.”

  “That’s what Soren and the beast are working on, maintaining that union while awake,” Ramon said, his eyes growing wide with recognition and the delight of understanding.

  “Yes.” Cosmos sighed.

  “And you?” Stealy said testily, burning her eyes into Cosmos.

  “I go by Cosmos. I’m a cosmic wizard. To work at my level, whole brain access twenty-four seven is required. One of many abilities that must be mastered.”

  “And yet here you are,” Stealy goaded. “Another fallen angel. What is it with you demi-gods? Can’t seem to use all these extra powers to do anything but magnify your shortcomings, can you? Well, I guess I can relate to that.” She revved her motorcycle to drown out anything Cosmos had to say. But Cosmos was content just to smile at her.

  When Stealy finally let up on the engine, Cosmos continued, “Inside their wombs, the dragon morphs will be safe from the alien queen. She’s left-brain dominant, and so is blind to certain wavelengths of consciousness, or at least dismissive of intel gathered through these alternative means.”

  “That’s why you let the dragon morphs live, providing they can get to their safe houses in time,” Stealy said, grunting. “And we figuring they might be an underground silo, or a house warded with magic. Silly us.” She shot Ramon a nasty look as if he was just as much to blame for the obvious mistake.

  “Are you racing us to the other dragon morphs to provoke them to retreat to where they’ll be safe, or to dispatch them before the alien queen can get her hands on them?” Stealy asked, the accusations bleeding out of her voice like a hemorrhaging soldier taking a shot to the carotid artery.

  “It makes no difference to me either way,” Cosmos replied dryly. And she started dematerializing before them.

  Stealy revved the motorcycle. “Hurry!” she barked at Ramon. “She’s already headed to the next one.”

  “Why? We’ll never get what we need out of them before she shows up, and if we do, the delay will likely cost the dragon morphs their lives.”

  “I can live with that. Never been much of a fan. Now, see into my mind the way Victor does when I get excited, and take us to where we need to go.”

  He knew better than to argue with her. There really was no arguing with Stealy. He did as she ordered.

  The bike soared over the edge of the butte, through the sky, landing—not on the valley and desert outback vista below with its red monoliths and rusted earth—but on a domed rooftop in Constantinople. The woman couldn’t help but commit sacrilege as a matter of course.

  ***

  Stealy maneuvered the motorcycle off the roof, sailing them onto the ground below, taking full advantage of that souped-up suspension and whatever other magic she’d stolen from someone to keep her bike together through her relentless madcap antics, then she sped into the vestibule of the temple.

  The whole time she was navigating around protesting tourists and angered priests, Ramon was shouting some interdictions of his own in Stealy’s ear. “We have to figure out what’s up with this meditative-repose state these dragon morphs are so keen to slip into.”

  “We sure as hell aren’t going to join them to find out if there’s anything to it.”

  “I was hoping we could be cleverer than that. It’s the treasure we need, not the hard work that goes into forging the jewel of consciousness.”

  She knew he was baiting her with his choice of words, playing to her fundamental desire to steal what she needed, always looking for the easy way out of a fix. She had to admit, as superficial and as obvious as the ploy was, it was working. If only she could put what he was saying into practice.

  “Wait. When I was inside your head…,” she said.

  Her spiking adrenaline made it easy for him to connect with her mind. “Yes, one of those conversations I overheard from seven thousand years ago…about a sultan and his beloved.”

  “But surely, they were speaking metaphorically.”

  “Yes, it sounded like no more than a tall tale to me at the time. Hardly a secret worth holding on to. But the legend says that their love for one another was so great, that when the Pharaoh denied them the right to have a child that they birthed it within the jewel she wore about her neck, where it could dream of a better world until it could bring it about, a world to birth itself into.”

  She grunted. Ramon thought she was being dismissive. But then he took his eyes off her and beheld what she was regarding. She was not being dismissive.

  ***

  The dragon morph before Stealy and Ramon seated on the motorcycle was in dragon mode, its wings spread wide, a sculpture of solid gold, overshadowing the altar of the Catholic church like some false god, like these people forgot what religion they were practicing, or stopped caring the instant they dug up this thing and decided it would be the perfect draw for pilgrims from around the world. And so the dragon morph had been in repose for how long? Maybe if Ramon was more of a historian, he’d know. Ironic, considering how many thousands of years of history he had access to now, after lying with Stealy.

  He rushed toward the altar and whispered up at the dragon so as not to draw the attention of those praying or simply sightseeing. “My friend has the power to steal you away to a safe house in time. You will not be able to morph fast enough to save yourself from the one who’s coming. But first you must share with us a secret. The cabbalistic magic. We need it to fight off an alien queen who would enslave us all.”

  “Talk fast, Crystal Balls,” Stealy said, lifting her eyes away from the dragon’s genitalia and pulling off the shades crafted of mandala magic which allowed her to see the dragon morph as it truly was, a living, vibrant being, merely cloaked within the golden shell.

  At first the dragon morph refused to speak, but then Cosmos materialized behind them, the squiggly lines of lightning between her fingers preparing to head his way the instant she reached critical mass. He must have read the te
a leaves well enough. “The inscription at my feet,” the voice came ringing in Ramon’s and Stealy’s heads. “Now hurry!”

  Stealy stuck her hand through the claws of the dragon as if they simply weren’t solid. It was the only part of the creature within ready reach, perched as it was on a marble pedestal. She glanced at Ramon. “You’re up, Mandala Magician.”

  Ramon opened a portal to a pair of suns spinning around one another, collapsing into a black hole. Stealy flung the dragon into the black hole, like she would slip a pendant into a black, silk-lined satchel. The dragon phosphoresced, shooting off a rainbow of colors, flapped its wings within the womb of the black hole, before settling down into its meditative repose for all eternity—or at least for the life of the black hole.

  Ramon closed the portal, turned to Cosmos, a big, impish smile on his face, “Sorry to frustrate you.”

  Cosmos stepped up to the marble shelf upon which the dragon had formerly been perched. She used the squiggly lines of lightning escaping her fingertips to overwrite the incantation that had been inscribed on the marble. “Sorry to frustrate you,” she said, returning Ramon’s smile, before dematerializing again.

  “Damn her!” Ramon shouted, eying the overwritten symbols.

  “So excitable. Relax. I got what I needed when I touched the dragon, stole the knowledge right out of his head.”

  “But not the magic. That’s not how your ability works, or you’d be like Naomi, a Sponger.” Ramon figured her stealing his own magic that one time was the exception because he remained psychically more linked to her than he cared to admit, and because a part of him wanted her inside his head.

  “No, not the magic, something better, the secrets upon which the magic is based.”

  “You plan on sharing?”

  “I suggest I explain on the way to recovering the jewel imprisoning the infant belonging to the pair of lovers buried in time.”

  Ramon stared at her guardedly. “I assume there’s some connection between the two.”

  “There is.”

  He didn’t need any more provocation. He opened up the portal. “And the other dragon morphs?”

  “To hell with them. Those self-serving fuckers wouldn’t give a second thought to abandoning everyone on the planet to save their own asses. So let them get themselves out of their own fix, or let them deal with Cosmos.”

  “What’s with that name, huh?”

  “What else? Short for The Wrath of the Cosmos would be my guess. And what would you call a secret agent working for the WOTC? What else but a YSF agent?”

  “As in, You’re So Fucked.” Cosmos did have spy written all over her, Ramon thought. They laughed at their in-joke as they climbed on the motorbike and sped toward the portal.

  “Have I told you that the scent of your hair makes my dick hard every time I jump on this motorbike behind you?”

  “Such an enticing tidbit of knowledge. Where will I find the room in my head now to entertain all these other considerations?”

  He laughed. “God help us if the fate of the cosmos comes down to the two of us.”

  “My money is on that YSF agent.”

  “My money’s on us.” He said, and through the portal they went, her bike’s tires peeling off sparks instead of rubber as it crossed the barrier between realms.

  FIFTEEN

  The treasure chamber, located more than a mile beneath the desert sand in Egypt, was littered with loot. For a cavern crammed with nothing but treasures, the place was a complete sty.

  The dust floating in the air made it feel as if Stealy and Ramon were stirring soup with their bodies, in the role as the soup spoons. “You’d think this place was sealed tight enough to keep the desert sands out,” Ramon said, coughing. The two continued to put some distance between them and the parked motorbike, the reassuring roar of its engines idling with the ferocity of fighting tigers no longer providing the safe, secure ambiance Ramon had grown used to.

  “It’s not desert sand, you fool. It’s magic dust, meant to kill us, or worse, turn us into one of these stone sculptures that look an awful lot like the last looters to clamber inside here.”

  “You wouldn’t happen”—ACCOUSTIC BLAST—“to come with magic”—ANOTHER SONIC ROAR—“to offset the spell, would you?” Ramon said, coughing out his question. “Or would that be too much to ask?” COMPLETE HACK ATTACK.

  “After the screwing of a lifetime, I should say so.” She was responding to him absently as she ran her left hand over various articles, specifically pendants with jewels dangling from gold chains that might reveal to her stealy sense the infant hidden in his perpetual womb.

  “Stealy? Maybe you should take me a bit more seriously?” The cough that started this time got stuck in his throat as he turned progressively to stone.

  She stepped up to him and stole his anxiety out of his head—this time with a kiss. “I already countered the spell, you moron, until you undid it with your fears. Whoever built this place was so determined to ensure no one got back out again that their psychic imprints are all over the place. It was just a matter of stealing his last thoughts right out of his head—still lingering in the air.”

  He nodded. “Psychic impressions haunting a room like ghosts. Yeah, I’ve heard of that. Thought it was complete bullshit. Glad to see I was wrong. You’re proving to be quite the partner, partner.”

  “Here,” she said, holding up the latest amulet.

  Ramon leaned into it, glaring and grimacing. “It’s gross. It looks like a real fetus, stuck in amber.”

  “It is. Stage 18, just 44 days old, and 13 millimeters long.”

  “How do you know about…?”

  She gave him a dirty look and he decided he could wait on the answer—for another thousand years or so. She was nothing but a bundle of shorn nerves on safe subjects.

  “There’s no way that mummified thing…” She gave him another nasty look, “that the embryo is alive and conscious in there, magic or no.”

  “Why? Because you find the thought disturbing? Welcome to my world. When I find a thought in my head I don’t find disturbing, I’ll let you know.”

  She donned the amulet.

  Ramon turned in response to a sound.

  Two of the stone figures were coming to life. Ramon swallowed hard, though there was no saliva to lubricate his throat, making the gesture all the more impotent. “God, this is so Curse of the Mummy. Let’s hope it’s the one with Brendan Frasier, you know, worth a few laughs, for all the scary, scary.”

  “I’m guessing those are the parents.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t look now, but they just kicked that motorcycle over, and from the looks of it, I don’t think we’re going anywhere on it. I say we leave it as a gift. You know, take something, leave something?”

  “We’re not leaving my motorcycle.”

  Ramon sighed. “I suppose this is one of those take the good with the bad deals, as in you can be quite impossible when you mean to be, you know that!”

  ***

  Stealy stepped up to the slowly moving, if ominous looking statues, stuck her hands inside both their heads. She’d never tried her magic this way before, but there was a time for everything. Instead of stealing what they knew out of their heads, she tried downloading everything she knew about the present to their minds. She figured they didn’t have time for explanations.

  The whole time, the statues were winding up their arms and their torsos, the male with the sword, the woman with the spear, preparing to dispatch their trespassers.

  Stealy wondered if it was a language problem. Maybe even thinking in images wasn’t enough to broach the chasm of thousands of years of understanding, not even with all sorts of scared-out-of-her-mind feelings attached. Then she stole into the language centers of their brains and converted the English words in her head to ancient Egyptian.

  Finally, the medicine took. The two effigies stopped moving.

  Stealy retrieved her hands from inside their heads.

  “What pare
nts let their child get stolen right out from under them, even if it’s to save the world?” Ramon’s face looked as if he’d just bitten down on salted limes.

  “It’s why they’ve been guarding her all along.”

  “Her? You mean if we can free her from that prison, age her to our age, she can join my harem? That’s great news, not to mention the trouble we’ll be able to get into then.”

  Stealy scowled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Romeo. I’m still not sure what hole this puzzle piece fills in in the puzzle just yet.” She picked up her motorcycle. Decided to rub the amulet for good luck after taking a look at her motorbike. The bike healed up from the damage inflicted by taking a kick to the rib cage from solid marble.

  “Did the embryo do that?” Ramon asked.

  “No, the bike did that. It’s warded against the kind of troubles I tend to get it into.”

  “So what did rubbing the amulet do exactly?”

  “She told me she’s assisting the union of Soren and the beast. They’ve joined with Natura to advance the savant’s warding magic against the alien queen from right under the queen’s nose.”

  “Well, you tell this overgrown infant that she’s part of my ménage-a-trois, not theirs, and not to go wandering off too long.”

  Stealy smiled. “Why are you smiling?” Ramon asked guardedly.

  “She showed me a picture of herself at our age, feels you’d be quite pleased. I assured her you would.”

  “Really? God, I can’t believe I’m turning in to such the perv, fantasizing over an embryo.” Stealy, getting good at ignoring him, kicked the starter on the motorbike, and revved the engine. “You okay with the three of us being a thing?”

  “Why not? I just want you for scratching that itch down there from time to time. And she says there are secrets in your head even I can’t get at, owing to your mandala magic, stuff you’re still hiding from me, but she can get at them.”

  Ramon grimaced. “I prefer to manipulate you two, if you don’t mind. But hey, bring it on. I doubt even she can get all the way into a mandala magician’s mind. Besides, don’t women like a little mystery in their men?”