• • •
“What happened?” Caraway asked, when nothing did.
Vasili looked over the silent stone. “The blood sacrifice,” he murmured. Reaching down, he pressed his fingers deep into his bullet wound, coating them with blood. “Ο Χριστός ο Θεός μας…” he began to pray as he smeared his blood along the stone Tablet, “ποιοι σε αυτό όλος-τέλειο και τη γιορτή αποταμίευσης, είναι ευγενικά ευτυχείς να αποδεχθούν τις εξευμενιστικές προσευχές για εκείνους που φυλακίζονται στην κόλαση…”
There was the soft sound of stone scratching against stone as the Tablet, glowing with green light, grew into the surrounding shrine, illuminating the room. Falling to his knees, Vasili closed his eyes and smiled mournfully. “Rest in peace, my love.”
• • •
Jean winced as she pressed the palm of her hand against the sharp edge of the crystal Tablet’s crack, drawing blood. “So long, Cthulhu,” she whispered as the blood dripped down over the intricate engravings. A sound like falling glass reverberated up as the Tablet’s base reattached itself to the crystal stanchion, the already glowing shrine now becoming a blinding source of emerald light.
Ken thrust his hands into the air triumphantly. “Yes!”
Jean smiled and looked out on the Temple floor. “Your turn, Tulku.”
• • •
Avoiding another powerful blast of energy from the Green Lama, Cthulhu flew up into the air, its massive wings flapping to keep it afloat. Black blood oozed over his scaly grey-green body in long streams. All around there were the screams of a thousand inhuman creatures crying out as their god bled.
“YOU WILL NOT DEFEAT ME, DUMONT!” it said defiantly.
The Green Lama replied with a small smile, blood dripping down his chin. Wiping it away with the back of his hand, the crimson fluid ran over the Jade Tablet, seeping into the threads.
“OM! MA-NI PAD-ME HUM!” he shouted, racing toward the peninsula’s edge. He pressed his hand into the imprint and the mound erupted with light. At that moment, two beams of energy shot out from both ends of the horseshoe balcony, striking the center Tablet. The Green Lama screamed as the Temple filled with light. Small bolts of electricity ignited off the Tablet and began racing up his arm, illuminating his body from within. His eyes rolled back in his head as he rose into the air, energy seething through him.
For a moment he could see through the walls of the world, through the windows of time. He saw the darkness ahead—a bloody triangle within a circle—the victories and the defeats. He looked into the many universes that sat alongside his and understood, for a brief instant, that the Tablets were more than a simple gateway to power—upon them rested the very bonds of this and all realties. There were other, more powerful objects throughout the galaxy, but without the Tablets, all life would cease to exist. And for this instance, for this one moment, all the power in all the universes, in all the realms, was flowing through him.
He was the Scion. He was the Green Lama. He opened his eyes and all was Jade.
CHAPTER 21
THE SINKING CITY
A deafening explosion threw Jean and Ken to the floor. The ground began to vibrate, threatening to crack. Small chunks of coral began to rain down from the ceiling. Below, a thousand screams echoed up like unending death.
Jean looked out onto the Temple floor. Her jaw dropped as her eyes fell upon the floating emerald man that had been the Green Lama. Cthulhu screamed, a sound of unparalleled pain that radiated out through her mind. Clutching her head, she watched as the winged monstrosity fell away from the Green Lama’s impenetrable light, back into the darkness, back to his eternal sleep. The Green Lama wasn’t killing Cthulhu, Jean realized. Cthulhu was more than simple flesh and blood; he was something between this realm and the next. Nothing, not even the Green Lama, could ever destroy him.
The Nazis and monsters on the Temple floor did not fare as well as their tentacled god, however; they were all evaporated by the Green Lama’s power in an instant.
“Holy Christ!” Ken exclaimed, falling over himself as he tried to stand after another tremor. “What in God’s name is happening?”
Jean pried her gaze away from the Green Lama’s emerald form. “The city is sinking.”
• • •
“Aw, crap,” Caraway growled as a chunk of the ceiling collapsed beside them. “This can’t be good.”
“It never gets easy, does it?” Rick mused.
“Nope, never does,” Caraway agreed. “Come on, Vasili, time to make our exit.”
“Leave me,” Vasili said, shaking his head. “There is nothing left for me. Let me die here.”
Shaking his head, Caraway forced Vasili to his feet. “Not an option, buddy. Like it or not, you’re coming with us.”
• • •
“John!” Jean exclaimed when they met Caraway and the others at the end of the balcony. “You’re all right!” She caught sight of Vasili’s wounded leg. “Jesus, is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Rick indignantly answered for him.
“He shot me,” Vasili replied, indicating Caraway.
“After he knocked me out,” Rick added angrily.
Caraway sighed. “It’s not a fun story to tell.”
The walls rumbled and hairline cracks began to spread across the floor.
“We’ll do story time later,” Ken said, trying to hide the panic in his voice. “Right now, let’s get the hell out of here before we go Atlantis.”
Jean nodded in agreement. “Follow me.”
• • •
Wading through the rising water, they made their way through the city’s curving streets following Jean’s lead. All around them, buildings cracked and shattered, massive chunks of coral tumbling down.
“How much further?” Rick shouted over the destruction.
“We’re almost there,” Jean called back. “Just don’t stop moving!”
As they neared the gates, a low rumble reverberated around them and the floor broke open beneath Jean’s feet. Screaming, she slid down the coral toward the pit below when someone caught her by the hand. Gazing up at her savior, she saw Vasili’s grim face looking back, water pouring down around him.
“Do not let go, Miss Farrell,” he said calmly. “It is a very big drop.”
She gave him a panicked nod. “Wasn’t really planning on it,” she said as Ken and Caraway appeared at Vasili’s sides, grabbing her other arm.
“Hang on there, girl. We got you,” Caraway grunted as they began to pull her up.
“Where do we go now?” Ken asked once Jean was safe, looking over the small canyon standing between them and their escape.
Rick silently looked over the crater, measuring the distance in his head.
“We jump.”
• • •
“Okay, we’re all doin’ this at once,” Rick reminded them as they stepped back from the edge of the crater, their arms laced together. The water was beginning to rise faster, the buildings crumbling in rapid succession. “No hesitating, we only got one shot at this.”
“You gonna be all right to jump, Vasili?” Ken asked, indicating the bleeding bullet wound.
“I will be fine,” he replied, his expression like stone.
“Om! Ma-ni Pad-me Hum!” Jean whispered.
Caraway gave her a sidelong glance. “Om! Ma-ni Pad-me Hum!” he softly repeated with a small nod.
“On three.” Rick licked his lips. He was taking a vacation after this he had decided. “One, two… Three!”
• • •
The sunlight was blinding, drawing harsh shadows along the narrow coral platform outside the gates of R’lyeh. Explosions sounded from within and the coral city began to list and tilt as it slid back into the ocean.
“How the hell are we gonna get off this rock?” Caraway shouted as they ran up the platform’s rapidly increasing incline.
&
nbsp; “We’ll take the U-boat!” Jean said, pointing at the silent submarine.
Caraway looked to Rick. “You think you can drive that thing?”
“Do we have a choice?” he replied with a shrug.
“Look!” Ken exclaimed. “The gates are closing!”
Jean stopped short, her heart hammering as she watched the black gates slowly close, a soft green glow peeking through. “What about Jethro?” she breathed.
“Emerald boy can take care of himself, Jean,” Caraway growled, unsure if he believed it himself. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward the U-boat. “We don’t get off the rock now, we’re gonna have to swim home.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Ken said calmly. “He’s the Green Lama.”
But even then, her throat dry with fear, Jean couldn’t remove her gaze from the gates, hoping against hope she would see the man she loved walk through before it was too late, and knowing that she wouldn’t.
• • •
“Everything’s in German!” Rick complained as he sat down at the U-boat’s controls.
“Surprise, surprise,” Caraway said sardonically, grabbing the seat beside Rick. “Don’t worry. Next time we steal a submarine I’ll make sure to get you an American one.”
“You know, I’m not sure what worries me more, John,” Rick said as he brought the engines to life. “The fact that you just said you’d steal an American submarine, or that I fully believe it will actually happen.”
• • •
Jean tightened the impromptu tourniquet around Vasili’s leg. “You lost a lot of blood, but I think you’re going to be fine. Ken, look after him.”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“Up,” she replied as she climbed the ladder out to the hull.
• • •
Jean stood on the bow of the submarine, her arms wrapped around her body as she watched R’lyeh collapse in on itself and slowly descend into the water. Her gaze unwavering, she didn’t see Ken climb out onto the hull and walk up beside her; didn’t respond when he put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Ken softly cleared his throat. “Jean, you should come back—”
“He isn’t dead,” she said sharply. Jethro—the Green Lama couldn’t, wouldn’t die. She refused to even consider the possibility. She had just seen him survive being stabbed in the throat, surely he could survive something as simple as a sinking city.
Ken firmed his lips and nodded slowly as he turned back toward the conning tower.
“Look over there!” Jean cried.
Ken spun around to see a glowing green ball of light shoot out from the remains of R’lyeh into the sky. The luminescent orb circled through the sky before turning toward them. Shielding his eyes from the light, Ken watched as the orb approached the U-boat, quickly taking on a human form.
“Tashi shog, Ne-tso-hbum!”” the Green Lama said jovially as he floated down before them, the light dissipating as his feet touched the hull. “Greetings to you as well, Mr. Clayton.”
A broad smile spread across Jean’s face as she stepped toward him. “You had us worried there for a second, Smug. Not me, though,” she added defiantly. “Ken, he was worried sick.”
Ken scoffed at that, biting back a smile.
The Green Lama removed his hood, revealing the smiling face of Jethro Dumont. “My apologies. I never meant to worry you,” he said to Jean.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked into his blue-grey eyes. She placed her hands on his chest, tiny electric shocks tingling her fingertips. “Cthulhu?” she asked quietly.
Jethro lovingly touched her face, wiping away her tears with his thumb. “Gone. For now. The Tablets as well.”
She closed her eyes in relief. “Good,” she whispered.
“Hate to break you two lovebirds up,” Ken said, stepping in. “But we better get inside before Rick and Caraway decide they’re Captain Nemo.”
• • •
Hours passed. Jethro, Jean, Ken, Caraway, Rick, and Vasili all stood in silence in the dimly lit, cramped space of the U-boat’s bridge as they headed toward San Antonio, Chile.
Staring at the ground, Caraway was the first to speak up. “Who was Gan, really?” he asked.
“A member of the Jewish Underground,” Jethro replied. “A double agent working within the Nazi Party in hopes of stopping Hitler.”
Rick sank into his chair, crestfallen. “I didn’t know,” he whispered, nervously running his hands through his hair. “God help me, I didn’t know…”
Caraway angrily kicked the side of the hull. “That stupid bastard! He should’ve told me.”
“And if he had, would you’ve believed him?” Jethro asked.
Caraway laughed mournfully. “Probably not. Guess that explains a lot, though…” He hesitantly looked up at Jethro. “He said there was something bad coming to Germany…”
“Mass murder. A holocaust,” Jethro said bitterly. “Hitler aims to wipe the Jews from the face of the Earth.”
“That’s insane,” Caraway said in disbelief.
“Yes, it is,” Jethro agreed.
Caraway rubbed his mustache. “Then I guess I’m going to Germany,” he decided.
“I know some people in San Antonio,” Rick offered. “They can get you into Germany while I get everyone else back to the States.”
Jethro gave Rick a somber smile of thanks and then looked to Vasili. “What about you? Do you want to go back to Kamariotissa?”
Vasili shook his head, his face pale. “No. I… It would be too much. My whole life I have been a monster’s puppet, but now I am without strings…”
“You’re always welcome to come back to the States with us,” Ken volunteered.
“Why? I would no more belong there than I do in Kamariotissa.”
“Perhaps,” Jethro allowed. “But I believe there is a man you should meet…”
• • •
The sun was rising as they approached San Antonio. Jean and Jethro once again stood on the submarine’s hull, their arms wrapped around each other.
“Do you know when I fell for you?” he asked. “Havana, when you saved Ken and I from Zamora.”
Jean laughed softly. “I was just looking for a mystery is all.”
“And you found me.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” she breathed. “Tell me, Mr. Dumont,” Jean said as she leaned her forehead against his. “I’ve heard tell that lamas are celibate. Any truth to that?”
Jethro smiled. “Well, in Tibetan Buddhism there are two main sects: the Gelugpas, or Yellow Hats, who are celibate, and the Nyingmapas, or Red Hats, who are not.” He bit his lip as he pulled her closer. “And I wear no yellow hat.”
Jean chuckled at that, her heart racing.
“There’s an old proverb,” Jethro said quietly, his voice just barely above a whisper,” hat ‘the man in love has eyes only in his heart.’”
“Yeah? And what do they see?”
“They only see you.”
As they kissed neither chose to mention that the Jade Tablet, the rainbow ring of hair that had been bonded to his finger for more than a decade, had disappeared.
EPILOGUE
THE DARKNESS AHEAD
The soft roar of midtown traffic echoed up to the Park Avenue apartment, filling the massive study. Hundreds of thousands of books lined the walls, though if you were to ask their owner if he had read any of them he would say that reading was his father’s hobby, when in fact he had read them all—and several thousand more. Asmall statue of the Buddha sat at the far end of the room, surrounded by a small group of butter candles, their light giving the idol an unearthly quality.
In the center of the room, Jethro Dumont and Geshe Tsarong sat cross-legged across from each other, the silence between them louder than the sounds of the city.
Tsarong sighed as he laced his fingers together. “Well… I suppose we have a lot to talk about, don’t we, Tulku?”
“Yes,” Jethro replied somberly. “I suppose we d
o.”
• • •
“Are you sure about this?” Jean asked as they approached the idling plane’s gangway, passengers streaming by.
“Yeah,” Ken said with a nod, moving his heavy suitcase to the other hand. “I need a vacation from all this… hero stuff. My agent says they’re casting the Wizard of Oz, of all things, and they want me to try out for the Tin Man. Or the Scarecrow. I can’t remember which. Besides… you two need your space.”
Jean smiled, touching his cheek. “Aw, Ken…”
He waved this away. “No, no. As much as I would love to sit around and watch you two necking, I’m just no good at being a third wheel.”
“You better write,” she said, firmly tapping his chest.
“Now, I can’t promise that!” he said nonchalantly. “What with all the parties… and women.”
Jean burst out laughing. “Yeah, like I’d believe that.”
Ken laughed with her. “What about you, what are you gonna do?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know… What do you do after you save the world?”
• • •
Arkham, Massachusetts sat just north of Salem and just west of the small port town of Innsmouth. The city was laid out like grid work, sliced in half by the Miskatonic River and the Boston & Maine Railroad. Between Church and College streets sat Miskatonic University, once a center of culture in New England, now known solely for its specialization in the occult. Asmall, rundown house sat at the corner of Pickman and Parsonage, the drawn windows and black door giving the house the appearance of a man screaming. Despite this, the tall, bearded traveler limped up to the entrance and knocked. Several moments passed before a gentleman, leaning heavily on a wooden cane, answered the door. He appeared to be in no more than his early forties, but his hair was shocked white.
“Excuse me…” the bearded traveler began, his accent untraceable. “Are you Professor Randolph Carter?”
The older gentleman tilted his head. “I am,” he replied, his voice strong yet quivery. “And you are, my good man?”
The Green Lama: Unbound (The Green Lama Legacy Book 3) Page 30