The Green Lama: Unbound (The Green Lama Legacy Book 3) (31 page)

“And yet you carried it, just as he has done.”

“Yes, but I
knew
my role. I understood the weight of my actions. Jethro was not afforded such choice.”

“He has done more than anyone before him.”

“Will that be enough, to fight such a darkness as this?” Tsarong asked, gazing into the shadows, a note of fear in his tone. When the woman remained silent, he asked,” o you know if he will succeed?”

“You, more than anyone, know that the future is uncertain.”

He walked over toward the silhouetted figure. “Who are you, Magga? You are more than the
jetsunma
you have claimed to be. You were with me all those years in the Temple of the Clouds, and you’ve helped the Tulku for so long, yet none of us have ever known your true face or name.”

“I am the Revealer of the Secret Paths,” Magga said, bowing her head. “That is all you need to know, young Tsarong. And while I have been able to assist the Tulku in the past, in this instance I am unable to help him. I cannot dip my hands into the tides of fate.”

Tsarong considered this a she walked over to a small golden Buddha statue at the far end of the room, moving it aside to reveal the strongbox hidden behind it. Entering in the six-digit code, he unlocked the intricate locking mechanism and opened the door to unveil a small vial of salt, glowing green in the moonlight

“Yes, but I can stack the deck.”

“As I knew you would,” Magga smiled. “May Buddha guide his footsteps,” he said as he carefully removed the vial and placed it in a small protective box. Magga bowed. “
Om! Vajrasattva Hum!
Dark times are ahead, Tsarong, be prepared.”

Tsarong flinched as someone knocked at the front door, and when he peered back into the shadows, Magga was gone.

• • •

“It’s four-in-the-morning, goddammit!” Francesca screamed as she wrapped the robe around her dressing gown and stormed across the apartment. She swung the door open and shouted, “What the hell do you want?!”

“Uh…” the man stuttered as he scratched at his unshaven jaw. “Yeah, um, hey. My name’s Rick… I’ve got a message from y’r husband.”

Francesca crossed her arms. “Far as I’m concerned, I have no husband.”

The man cleared his throat. “Yeah. Well, anyway…listen, I’m kinda short on time and he told me to tell you this before I head out, so do you wanna hear it or not?”

Francesca huffed in frustration and pursed her lips. “Fine. Out with it.”

“Right…” he grumbled as he brought out a folded piece of paper. He cleared his throat again as he unfolded it and read the note aloud. “‘Frankie, you’ve got every reason to be mad at me for leavin’ and not explain’ why. But know it was for the right reasons. A lot of terrible things are about o happen and I want you to know that no matter what happens, I never stopped lovin’ you and you’ll always be my girl in white. Love, John,’” Rick finished and cleared his throat for a third time. “So, yeah, that’s what he said.”

Francesca was silent, visibly taken aback. A small tear formed in the corner of her eye.

“So… uh, you want me to tell him something when I see him?”

She looked up at Rick as if she was suddenly surprised by his presence. “Yes, you can give him this,” she said before slapping him across the face.

• • •

Captain Gabe Harris flicked the remains of his cigarette over the side of the

S. S. Delphine
, rubbing the bristles of his beard as he watched the butt tumble through the air and disappear into the sea. They were two days out from the small port town of Kamariotissa, where they had been forced to dock after an earthquake made the sea violent. But the detour had been fortuitous, bringing on four passengers offering to pay an exorbitant price to leave the island as quickly as possible. Gabe knew better than to ask questions, and while the massive expansion of his wallet was a welcome change, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had brought on a whole lot of trouble. Walking over to the cockpit, he found his first mate Stuart manning the helm.

“Gave Cohen the night off, hope you don’t mind,” Stuart explained as Gabe closed the door. “Think he’s coming down with something—the boy looked yellow.”

Gabe nodded in understanding. “How’re our passengers faring?”

Stuart shrugged. “The big guy still seems a little under the weather, but the other three seem to be doing all right.”

“Good,” Gabe said as he took out his rolling papers and tobacco and began rolling himself another cigarette. “With what they’re payin’ us I wanna make sure they get all the comforts of home. Hell, we could practically buy a fleet with what we’re makin’.” He licked the edge of the paper and sealed it shut. “How much longer ’til we reach our destination?”

“Few more hours, though I gotta admit I never thought we’d get asked to drop someone off in the middle of the water. You don’t mind me sayin’, sir, but I think all four of ’em gotta few screws loose, if ya catch my meaning. ’Specially that one that keeps praying ‘oh many padded home’ all the time. The dame ain’t so bad, but even she seems a bit wonky, keeps looking over the side of the boat like she’s expectin’ something to jump out at her.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Gabe said, lighting his cigarette. “They first asked to go down near Antarctica. Money was damn good, but I wasn’t gonna risk that kinda trip.”

“All the better, you ask me.”

“I’m gonna agree with ya there—” Gabe cut himself short when something caught the corner of his eye. “You see that?” he asked, pointing starboard.

“See what, boss?”

Gabe shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Thought I saw something climb up the side of the ship… Probably, just my imagination. Maybe I’m going a bit wonky myself,” he laughed as the scarred white creature crawled out of the sea and onto the deck.

• • •

How many days had he gone without sleep, Jethro wondered. Three days? Four? He could no longer tell, his nights filled with such nightmares that sleep was impossible. No, not nightmares, he reminded himself. Signs and portents: the terrible shape of things to come.

With rest out of the question, Jethro had instead spent the past two days alone in his cabin, repeating the vow of refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha as he studied the Third Jade Tablet—the Fire from Olympus as Jean called it. Analyzing the crystal, he could tell by its peculiar shade of green, minimal opacity, and inherent luminance, that it was indeed not of this world. This realization did not so much surprise Jethro as it disturbed him. Did this mean his Jade Tablet was otherworldly as well? Were the radioactive salts, his abilities, everything he was directly tied to Cthulhu? Jethro grimaced. No, he refused to believe that. He had dedicated his life to fighting the darkness. He would not accept that he could be a part of it. Then there was the dystopia Jean had visited. Whether it was real or not was of little consequence, it was a harsh reminder that the fate of the entire world—indeed, of all six realms of samsara
—
now rested squarely on his shoulders. Massaging his eyes, he fought back a sob. All he had ever wanted was to find his purpose in life, and for a time, he believed he had found it as the Green Lama, as a Bodhisattva, but the path had drawn him here, and it had become too much to bear. He wasn’t the world’s savior, he was simply Jethro Dumont, a rich boy from Manhattan trapped playing the games of the gods.

There was a knock at the cabin door.

Jethro wiped his eyes. “Come in,” he said, placing the crystalline egg back into Jean’s satchel.

“Hey, just wanted to check in on you,” Caraway said as he walked in. “None of us have seen ya in a while, so I figured I’d stop by.”

Jethro chuckled quietly. “You’ve been through a lot more than I, John. You have no reason to concern yourself with me.”

“Yeah, well,” Caraway began, looking at his feet. “Jean and Ken, they’ve been messing around with the Green Lama for a while now, but you, you’re still new to all this ‘hero’ stuff. We make it look easy, but the truth is… I just wanted to make sure you were handling it okay.”

“I’ve been better,” Jethro admitted.

Caraway nodded, but Jethro could tell his mind was somewhere else.

“Did you know the woman well, John?” he asked after a moment.

Caraway thinned his lips and shook his head. “No,” he whispered in reply.

“But you cared for her.”

“I’m married, Jethro,” Caraway shot back, but when Jethro remained silent, he confessed, “Yeah, I cared for her. She wasn’t—Hell, she didn’t deserve to die like that. Not like that. I ain’t saying its your fault or nothing, you did your best, but I mean… I was right there, Jethro. I was right next to her and I watched them kill her, and there was nothing I could do. And you know what’s the worse part? The part that is digging through my brain like a goddamn earthworm is the feelin’ that if I had never met her, she would still be alive.”

“You can’t know that, John.”

“Can’t I? Jesus, I don’t even know what’s up or down anymore. Those creatures and that wizard, and what they did to Vasili… What I wouldn’t give for the Murder Corporation or even a reefer dealer in Brooklyn. But this—This is big, Jethro. I ain’t saying that to scare ya, but truth is, I’m not sure we’re getting out of this alive.”

“I have considered that,” Jethro said, recalling the Rabbi’s divination.

“Goddamn Green Lama,” Caraway cursed. “I don’t think he knew what he was throwing us into. Don’t think he knew how big this really was.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have sent us out here if he didn’t think we could handle it, and I know that when the time comes he’ll be there when we need him.”

“We’ve been putting our faith in a man whose real name—whose real
face
—we don’t even know. Sometimes I figure he’s Dr. Pali, other times I’m not sure. Hell, I’m not even sure he’s even one person. And don’t get me wrong, I ain’t saying all you Buddhists are bad guys, but how do we really know he’s been playing for our side and it wasn’t all just some big ruse just to get us out here?”

“In my limited interactions with the Lama,” Jethro said hesitantly,” e has never given me any reason to believe he had any malicious intent.”

“Maybe that’s just what he wanted us to think?”

“John,” Jethro said calmly. “The man saved your life. You told me yourself, if it wasn’t for him you would’ve died.”

“I—I,” Caraway stuttered. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come in here and dump on you like that. It’s just…I’ve been shot, stabbed, and beaten to a pulp. I’ve been possessed, fought my way through the Murder Corporation, gone toe-to-toe with giant clay monsters and worse, but I don’t think I’ve ever been this terrified.”

Jethro glanced at his ring. “Did I ever tell you about my time in Tibet?”

Caraway shook his head. “Just that you were there in a lamasery for ten years.”

Holding up his hand, Jethro showed Caraway the Jade Tablet. “I got this while I was there. It might not look like much to you, but when it was ‘given’ to me it was the most terrifying experience of my life. I didn’t know it then, but this was my birthright. My destiny. It has many names, some call it the Sacred Colors, but most call it the Jade Tablet. It is, in essence, one of three. This one gave me my radioactive salts. The Second Tablet gave life to the golem you fought.”

“Wait, Jethro… What are you saying?”

“The Nazis were searching for the Third.” Jethro reached into Jean’s satchel and brought out the crystalline Tablet. “This one. In many ways it was the same reason Jean went to Samothrace.”

Caraway’s face slackened as he processed what Jethro was saying. His hands curled into fists.

“Had I known I never would have brought you and Ken along, but Jean was in trouble and a man in love is not a wise man. I lost sight of—”

Caraway struck Jethro hard in the jaw, sending him reeling to the floor.

“John, listen I—”

“Save it. Whatever speech you got lined up I don’t wanna hear it. You got me, Green Lama?” He asked angrily, pausing until Jethro gave him a hesitant nod. “The only thing I wanna know is how you plan on getting us out of this mess.”

Jethro rubbed his jaw. Standing up he shook his head. “I don’t have a plan. Not yet.”

“Then you better get started,” Caraway growled as he walked out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him.

• • •

Cohen hacked into his handkerchief. Wiping his nose, he felt as though mucus was flowing from every orifice. One month; he had been sick for one long, excruciating month, each day getting a little worse, but at every port they docked, the local doctors just shrugged and told him to get some bed rest, little good it did him. He was dying, he knew it. If it wasn’t tonight, it’d be tomorrow, but the Reaper was coming, waiting for him to let his guard down and take him when he least expected it.

Shivering in his bunk, he watched the stars through the narrow porthole, his eyes trained on the unusually bright star that seemed to twinkle between red and vibrant green, almost as if it was several stars all bunched up together. He smiled weakly, remembering the old rhyme. “Twinkle li’l star, how I wunda wha’ya are? Up above da sky so high—”