Flight of the Phoenix (11 page)

Two of Tures's vampires, the Egyptians, Edfu and Bakori, leaped out of the shadows and grabbed one of the attacking warriors right in front of Fenix. As Edfu sank his teeth into the warrior's neck, another warrior sliced off his head. Blood fountained from the stump of the vampire's neck. The other vampire, Bakori, immediately killed the warrior who had attacked Edfu. The blood from Edfu mixed with the blood of the warrior. The combined streams of bright red blood flowed into the river already on the ground. Blood droplets individually glistening in the moonlight began to dance and shiver as though they had a life of their own.

The natives backed away from Priest. He appeared to be completely insane as he spun faster and faster while screaming. His face was contorted as though he suffered the worst agony imaginable. Drops of blood from the puddles, including the strange blend of vampire blood and warrior blood, rose into the air and began to spin around him. The individual drops sparkled like rubies in the moonlight as they rose from the ground and circled Priest. In minutes, Priest was standing in the center of a red mist.

The spectacle soon drew the vampires. In a few minutes, the attackers, the villagers and the vampires stood in frozen awe watching Priest. One minute he was a man, the next a dragon. He shifted in and out of the two forms continuously. All the while, he kept up the high-pitched keening. His head swelled and he clawed at it. His eyes bulged and his forehead pulsed as it grew bigger and bigger. His eyes suddenly rolled back in their sockets, his hands stopped clawing at his head as he extended his arms, palms up. When his head split open, he didn't fall to the ground and no blood flowed from the wound, no brains were visible inside of it. He continued to spin in a circle as the cloud of blood droplets was sucked into the hole in his head. Fenix had never seen or imagined anything like this in her very long life.

Two snakes shot out of one of the buildings and slithered up Priest's sleeves. His robes flapped and started swelling with a squirming presence. The crowd backed up as more blood drops gathered from all over the village to flow into Priest's swelling head. The cloud of blood droplets was enormous and spinning like a tornado. On the other side of the gathered crowd, Fenix saw Bryn briefly appear and then she was gone. She wanted to follow her sister, but was frozen in place by the spectacle taking place before her. Something very bad and completely incredible was about to happen here and she didn't want to miss it.

When Draak Priest woke up, the first thing he saw was that golden bitch, Fenix. Then Malenfant, the hated parasitic resident inside his head, began to shriek. It was worse than anything Malenfant had done before. The pain inside his head was beyond the most terrifying, agonizing experience Priest had ever had. He grabbed his hair and stumbled into the center of the village only vaguely aware of where he was or what was happening. The only thing he could think of was the pain inside of his brain. When his head began to swell he started screaming and spinning as he clawed at his forehead.

The pain increased, becoming sharp like a knife stabbing into his forehead which continued to intensify. Priest thought he would surely die of it. When he opened his eyes, he saw drops of blood rise off the ground and circle him like a tornado. His snakes slipped under his robes as his body ballooned and his head and his limbs contorted. His chest expanded until he couldn't breathe. It felt like there was someone else inside his body and that someone was trying to escape. The pain was excruciating. He screamed and clawed at his head and body hardly noticing when his head split open and the blood rising off the ground poured in.

Priest fell to the ground shrieking and clawing at his stomach, his chest and his forehead. Something was coming out of him! He writhed and foamed at the mouth as a creature, surely some kind of alien monster, crawled out of his brain and lay in the diminished puddles of blood. The opening in his head snapped shut, healing instantly. He was immortal, and he rose to his knees. The pain was gone. He searched for the evil cardinal inside his brain and found a blissful emptiness. Where was Malenfant?

The creature spawned inside his head looked like a wizened old man, naked and covered with a red sheen of blood. As it coughed and stood up, Priest clambered to his feet as well. Fenix, standing close to his shoulder, gasped. “What is it?”

The creature began cackling and dancing around. He was naked. His shriveled penis flapped above a pair of hairless, dangling balls. “I'm alive. I'm alive.”

Priest backed away, his hand above his heart. “Malenfant?”

“Yes, you dunderhead. Of course it is I, Cardinal Malenfant, in the flesh. Though I'm disappointed at how wrinkled and old I am. Still, it is an enormous pleasure to have my own body.”

Fenix grabbed Priest's arm. “He was inside of you.”

Priest nodded. “He's been tormenting me since I was reborn. Screaming at me inside my head, ordering me to kill and rape.”

Fenix snorted. “And you had a problem with that?”

Priest tilted his head and nodded. “Actually, I did.”

* * * *

While all the commotion coming from the middle of the village drew attackers and residents alike, Bryn slipped into Kivunjo's hut. The dagger had to be here. She began a thorough search of the dim interior of the immaculately kept hut. The floor swept, bowls and eating utensils stacked neatly on a wooden bench. Bedding was folded and set against one wall along with some articles of feminine clothing. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she spotted the altar. Skulls sat on a low table, bowls filled with offerings of food and some kind of crushed stone sat in front of the skulls. A rattle, feathers and a lion's tail lay on one side. Something had been placed near the offering bowls wrapped in a golden skin. Power emanated from the bundle. She touched it and knew the dagger was inside.

Bryn snatched the wrapped bundle and held it close to her heart. Heat radiated from the small package; heat and power. Filled with a sudden sense of wellbeing and infallibility, Bryn raced out of the hut. The screaming and shrieking in the center of the village had stopped. She had to find Fenix.

The sight that greeted her eyes when she reached the center of the village was incredible. A wizened old man cavorted naked in the center of a crowd of warriors from the village and the attacking party. Vampires stood frozen with shock. Draak Priest hovered close to her sister. And then Bryn noticed the old man was growing taller, his skin smoothing out as ropy muscles appeared in his chest and arms.

She ran to Fenix. Ignoring Priest, she grabbed Fenix and tugged on her arm. “What the hell is going on here?”

Fenix pointed at the dancing man. “Cardinal Malenfant.”

“What?”

“He was living inside of my head,” Priest said. “He's evil.”

The dagger in Bryn's arms heated. She hugged it tightly and the power of the artifact spoke to her. “He's only partially here,” she said to Priest and her sister. “The cardinal is a ghost.”

Priest shook his head. “No, no, he's as real as you or I.”

“It's an illusion,” Bryn snarled. “And why am I talking to you anyway? Come on, Fenix. I completed our mission.”

Priest whirled on her. His face and robes were coated with blood, his own and that of the many who had just died here. His face, so recently youthful, was lined and old. “You found the dagger! Give it to me. It's mine. I must have it.”

He snatched at the wrapped bundle in Bryn's arms, snagged the golden skin holding the artifact, and tore it off. The dagger was revealed and Fenix gasped. Her surprised exhalation drew the evil attention of Malenfant. He spotted the dagger in Bryn's arms, shot toward her with supernatural speed, grabbed the dagger out of her hands and disappeared into thin air with it clutched in his claw-like hands.

The three of them stared at the spot where he'd disappeared with horrified eyes, stunned into immobility for several moments before Bryn began screaming. “I lost it,” she wailed.

In her entire life, Bryn had never felt so robbed, so thwarted. All of her plans to end the curse had rested in that dagger which just seconds ago, she'd had in her possession.

She fell to her knees sobbing. “It's gone. It's gone. I was so close.”

Fenix dropped into a crouch beside Bryn and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “We'll find him and get it back.”

Bryn closed her eyes. “I thought our quest was finally over. I thought I'd succeeded. Now all of my hopes and dreams are gone, snatched right out of my hands by a specter.” She rounded on Priest. “This is all your fault. You brought him here.”

“I didn't mean to. He was in my head. How was I supposed to know he'd suddenly exit my brain and steal the dagger?”

“You should have stopped him,” Bryn wailed. “And to think, he was only a ghost and he now has the dagger.”

“No, he was real,” Priest said. “When he came out of my head, he was real.”

“He can probably slide in and out of his corporeal body,” Bryn said as she heaved a sigh of resignation. “Or maybe he's part of both worlds because he was dead and then reborn from blood. I bet the vampire blood is what did it. Vampire blood is filled with a strange life of its own.” She thought for a moment. “And then the dagger was here adding its immense power to the mixture. It was a bizarre and unique set of happenstances and it produced whatever he is.”

“How can we track him if he can go between worlds?” Priest said. His entire demeanor was of someone worn to the bone; dispirited and tired almost to the point of death.

A sudden panicked screech echoed through the village followed by frantic screams. “We have to run,” Fenix yelled. “Kivunjo must have discovered the dagger is gone.”

The war between the two tribes had been resurrected. The remaining vampires gathered around Bryn, Fenix and Priest protecting them. Tures grabbed Fenix by the arm. “Lazarus would come back to give me the true death if I let anything happen to you.”

Bryn didn't have time to wonder what that meant. Lazarus was dead and gone. They grouped in the protective circle of the vampires and took off for the escarpment and the camp. As the vampires sliced their way through the screaming, hysterical natives, more blood flowed and the vampires increased the fury of their fighting fueled by the excessive violence and the presence of huge quantities of human blood.

Suddenly, Kivunjo was in front of them surrounded by his warriors. He wore white paint over his black skin turning him an ashy ghost-like gray. His lion-mane headdress stuck out around his head stiff with blood like a crazy halo, while his eyes glowed with the red light of insanity and his lips were drawn back in a feral snarl. “My knife! You white devils stole my precious dagger. Kill them!” He ordered his warriors in Bantu. “Find my dagger.”

The natives threw themselves into the fray with zeal, attacking the phalanx of vampires even though they must have known it was an impossible task and were filled with fear of the supernatural. Kivunjo urged them on and their insane terror of him overpowered their fear of the undead. But they were quickly hampered as the warriors from outside their village fell on them with renewed fury from behind. The vampires punched a hole in the confusion and Tures dragged Fenix through. Bryn stayed close behind Fenix followed by Draak Priest who seemed lost and unsure of himself.

When they were out of the village and halfway up the cliff to the escarpment, Bryn turned and shoved Priest in the chest. “Go away. You're not wanted here. I'd kill you, but I've seen enough blood this day to last me the rest of my life no matter how long it is.”

Priest lifted sad dark eyes to stare at her. “I have nowhere to go.”

Bryn's head dropped. It was like kicking a wounded dog. “We have been enemies for centuries, Draak Priest. Crawl back into the hole you crawled out of.”

He scrambled up the hill behind her. “I won't be any trouble. I can be of help tracking down Malenfant. We have a connection. He was alive in my head. Surely that will enable me to at least locate him and the dagger.”

Bryn sighed. He could be right. “Fine, but I don't trust you and I definitely don't like you.”

When they reached the escarpment and the camp, Bryn raced for the tent she shared with Quinn. She needed to see him, to know he was safe and on his way back to good health. She was halfway across the clearing when Sam erupted from the tent with a horrified expression on her face. Bryn grabbed her former lover's shoulders. “What's wrong?”

Sam's eyes filled with tears. “I only left him alone for a second to watch what was going on in the village. I swear, it was only for a few minutes.”

Bryn shook Sam hard. “What are you saying?”

“Quinn…he's gone.”

Bryn led a small party down the side of a huge waterfall. It dropped out of the mountains and into the lake beside Kivunjo's village. Quinn's tracks along with broken limbs and crushed vegetation had led her this way. Never had she longed for Fingle, her trusty tracker, so much. But her connection to Quinn was strong and she felt him moving ahead of her, disoriented, sick and out of his head. There must have been another of the disgusting loa loa in his mouth that they had missed.

Fenix trailed behind, but Tures had taken Sam and her vampires to gather the fuel they needed for the undersea vessel. Her sister now possessed powers Bryn didn't understand. Fenix was stronger and faster than her, almost as fast as a vampire. The blood she'd shared with Lazarus had obviously been the transforming factor. Hearing Tures speak of Lazarus like he stilled lived also disturbed her. Was he communicating with Fenix in some hidden way? Fenix had so much self-confidence and assurance. Her baby sister was gone replaced by this mature and powerful person Bryn did not know or trust.

And then there was Draak Priest. Bryn glanced over her shoulder. Their evil nemesis now wanted only to help them. His possession by Cardinal Malenfant had given him new insight into the dark psyche of pure evil. He seemed to want none of it, but Bryn didn't trust him or his transformation.