The Green Lama: Unbound (The Green Lama Legacy Book 3) (33 page)

“You’re concern for me is almost touching, Ne-tso-hbum,” he said.

“You know me. All heart.”

Jethro leaned on the railing and laced his fingers together. “What brought you here, on a cold night like this? That is if you don’t mind me asking.”

Jean pursed her lips. “Almost shot Caraway. Thought he was a Deep

One.” She paused to consider this. “Boy, he’s having a really rough week, isn’t he?”

“And you?” Jethro asked.

Jean’s gaze fell to the breaking waves below, her knuckles turning white as she tightened her grip on the railing. “I’ve had better. Wish I could say I’ve had worse. Though it feels more like a lifetime. Take it from me, Dumont, time travel is
highly
overrated.”

“There’s still a lot you haven’t told me about what you saw.”

“And there’s a reason for that,” she said curtly.

Jethro chewed the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his next statement. Hesitating, he said: “Gan told me that Brickman foretold my—”

“For what it’s worth, Jethro,” Jean cut in, “we
are
doing better than before.”

“But will it be enough?” he asked.

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Worried about your karma, Dumont?”

Jethro gave her a wry look. “Always, but in this case I’m more concerned about this world than the next. No matter the cost, I will not fail.”

“‘No matter the cost, ’” she whispered. She blinked her eyes quickly and turned her head up to the stars. “The creatures from the
Bartlett
and Prometheus both called me the ‘Keystone.’ Keystone… Like I’m at the center of it all.”

“They would not be the first to believe you are the most important person in the world,” Jethro said softly.

“But I’m not,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes. “I’m not. I’m just a girl from Montana, good with a gun and probably too quick of a draw at that. I used to—I once thought I was supposed to be a movie star. That was the dream; the one they sold us on the silver screen, at least. Damn if I didn’t go and fight for it. But then… Then I met you and now all I can ever think about is… What I can do, how many lives I can save. I’m happiest when I’m with the Green—when I’m with you. But this… This is too much. I’m not like you, Jethro, I’m not—”

He placed his hand on hers. “No. You’re stronger.”

Jean glanced down at their hands and bit her lip to fight back the smile. “Always keep it interesting, don’t we?”

“I suppose we do,” he said with a sad smile.

A tear streamed down Jean’s face. Jethro reached up to brush it away and found his hand holding her cheek. Her emeralds eyes stared into his. He leaned closer.

“Dumont!” something hissed behind them. They spun to face the deck, Jean’s gun instantly drawn.

“What was that?” Jean breathed.

There was a guttural roar as a scarred Deep One shot out of the darkness, brandishing its claws.

“Get down!” Jethro shouted.

“Like hell I will,” Jean snarled, shooting at the attacking creature. But the Deep One was quicker than she expected, ducking a split second before she fired. Knocking the gun out of her hand, the creature grabbed her and threw her over the side of the ship.

“No!” Jethro screamed as Jean tumbled away. Before he could react the Deep One was on him, throwing him onto the deck as it sliced at his abdomen. Jethro quickly pulled his legs up to his chest and kicked the soft member hanging between the creature’s ropey legs. The Deep One howled in pain and stumbled back. With little time, Jethro rushed to the railings, his heart pounding against his chest as he shouted,” ean!”

Desperately peering over the edge he let out a small gasp of relief when he found her precariously holding on to a narrow ledge.

“Jethro, watch out!” she shrieked as the Deep One came up from behind and grabbed him by the throat.

“You kill Roe’qua!” Ke’ta growled, digging its nails into Jethro’s larynx. “You make Master kill my brother!”

Choking, Jethro struck his elbow into the Deep One’s massive eye. The creature growled in pain, but only tightened his grip on Jethro’s neck.

“Jethro!” Jean screamed, her fingers slipping. “I can’t hold on much longer!”

Stars burst behind his eyes as the Deep One continued to squeeze. A loud whirring sounded above them, filling the night as a spotlight suddenly shone down them. “Dumont!” a familiar voice boomed from the air. “Get down, now!”

Jethro kicked his legs out from beneath him and dropped to the deck, leaving Ke’ta’s scarred head open. A deafening
POW!
resounded over them and Ke’ta’s head exploded, showering Jethro in blood, bone and brains.

Prying himself free of Ke’ta’s limp hands, Jethro stumbled back over to the railings.

“Jean!” he called, leaning over the side. “Reach for my hand!”

“I think I can,” she said as she tried to pull herself up, lifting a hand toward Jethro’s.

“Almost,” Jethro grunted, leaning further forward, his fingers brushing against hers. “Just a little further…”

“Jethro, I can’t—” Jean said, just as her hold slipped and she fell into the black waters below.

C
HAPTER 16

A SAVAGE APPROACH

There were twenty of them, armed with a variety of swords and guns, each bigger than the last. For the past month they had raided the local villages, stealing food and livestock, killing the men, raping the women, and butchering the children. Witnessing the proof of their destruction was almost too much to bear. It had taken Jethro two weeks to find the thugs’ hideout, a hidden cave beneath the shadows of the mountains.

“I only ask that you leave the villagers in peace,” Jethro said in Tibetan, resolute as they began to encircle him. “The lamasery can aid you in your efforts to find food and livestock. There will be no need to resort to violence anymore.”

“Ah, but what if we don’t want to stop, Lama?” the leader, a wiry stump of a man, asked. “What if it’s just too much fun?”

“I promise there is more to life than this. We can find a peaceful way to—”

The leader laughed. “There is no peace here, Lama! Only death.”

A blade flew out at Jethro. Catching it easily, he threw it back at the leader’s feet, the metal wobbling as it stuck out from ground. “Violence begets violence. Please do not misinterpret my peaceful offerings, I will not allow you to harm any more people. If you strike me I will respond in kind.”

“I see through your lies, Lama!”

“A lama never lies,” Jethro said with a slight bow. “He only promises.”

“Kill him!” the leader shouted as the cabal began to attack.

• • •

“Man overboard!” Jethro shouted as he dived after her, hitting the water without so much as a splash. Swimming through the black waters to her unconscious form, Jethro wrapped his arms around Jean and pulled her to the surface and clear of the oncoming ship. Holding up her head, he could see she wasn’t breathing. “Ne-tso-hbum… Please, no.”

A spotlight in the air moved onto them. Looking up into the blinding light, Jethro waved for help.

“Hang in there, Dumont!” the voice called. “I’m sendin’ down a ladder! Grab on and I’ll pull you up!” Seconds later a rope ladder dropped down in front of them. Paddling over, Jethro placed Jean between him and the ladder, then wrapped his arms around her, twisting the rungs around his forearms so they were secure. Tugging down against the ladder, they were swiftly lifted out of the water and swung back over onto the ship’s deck where Caraway, Ken, and Captain Harris were running over toward them.

“We heard shouting,” Ken said. “You guys okay?”

“Jean,” Jethro gasped as he placed her on the deck. “She’s not breathing.”

“What in holy hell?” Captain Harris exclaimed at the sight of the decapitated Deep One. “What the hell did you bring on my ship?”

Jethro ignored Captain Harris. Tilting Jean’s head back, he lifted her chin and listened for a faint indication she was breathing. When none came, he pinched her nose and placed his lips over hers and gave her two quick breaths, her chest rising. When she didn’t regain consciousness he placed his hands on her sternum and began to compress. Once, twice, then again. Seconds felt like hours before Jean coughed up water.

“Oh thank God!” Ken exclaimed, clutching his chest, as if his heart was threatening to explode.

“Ne-tso-hbum,” Jethro whispered, removing a wet strand of hair from Jean’s face. “Hi.”

“Heya,
Smug
,” Jean replied, smiling weakly. “You saved me.”

Jethro chuckled. “A bit of a change from the usual, I know. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

“Someone mind telling me, what in God’s name just happened?” Captain Harris shouted. Then, pointing to the floating spotlight above them, “And what in the hell is that?”

“That, Captain Harris,” Jethro said as he looked up into the sky, watching the familiar hovering plane come alongside, the mustached pilot waving from the cockpit,” s where we get off.”

“Now
this
… This is an amazing plane,” Caraway commented as he and Ken walked into the gleaming cockpit.

“Wish I could say it’s mine,” Rick Masters said as he worked the controls. “But yeah, the Big Guy has a lot of very impressive toys.”

“The Big Guy…?” Ken stuttered in disbelief. “You don’t mean—?”

Rick nodded. “Yup.
The
Big Guy.”

“How the hell you swing that?” Caraway asked.

“Ask Uncle Money Bags,” Rick replied under his breath, pointing a thumb behind him. “He set the whole thing up.”

“Heh,” Caraway huffed. “Shoulda figured.”

“Tell me about it,” Rick said, and then murmured to himself, ‘Green Sleeves’ got
connections
.”

Ken glanced back toward the main cabin and then looked back at Rick and Caraway quizzically. “Green Sleeves? Green Sleeves who?”

• • •

“Thank you again for your help, Captain Harris,” Jethro said with a slight bow of his head. He and Jean were standing on the plane’s gangway, hovering just off the side of the boat. “I am truly sorry for the loss of one of your men. Had we known the creature was on board we would have never—”

Captain Harris cut in. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t hold you responsible, Mr. Dumont. Cohen was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die like that,” he added mournfully, rubbing the wool of his Afro-textured hair. “But the fault lies with that… thing. Not with you.”

“Sir, if I there’s anything we can do…”

The captain shook his head. “If you’re out to stop monsters like the one that murdered Cohen, all I’d ask is that you promise you’re gonna make sure to kill one of ’em for me.”

“We’ll do our best, Captain,” Jean said solemnly.

The plane’s gangway began to retract as they waved goodbye and climbed aboard. Captain Harris watched as the plane rose vertically before the propellers turned forward and headed west. Taking a thoughtful drag of his cigarette, he realized it would be a lifetime before he ever saw a plane like that again.

“Have I ever mentioned that generally speaking I don’t approve of killing—human or otherwise?” Jethro asked Jean as they walked through the cabin.

“Probably,” Jean rebutted, with a crooked grin. “But, who said I was listening?”

“Welcome aboard, lady and gentlemen,” Rick said over the loudspeaker. “If you’ll all take your seats and buckle up, we’ll get headin’ toward our destination shortly.”

Jean caught sight of the monogram stitched into all of the seat backs. She placed her hands on her hips and scrutinized Jethro. “I didn’t know you had such impressive friends.”

“You’d be surprised,” Jethro said humbly as he sat down and buckled his safety belt. “One day I’ll tell you about my old detective friend in London.”

Jean raised an eyebrow as she sat down beside him. “I can’t wait.”

Ken and Caraway walked into the cabin. Ken’s face had turned a sickly green, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

“You okay there, Clayton?” Jean asked.

Ken sighed and shook his head as he and Caraway took their seats across from them. “Ask me again when we’re on solid ground.”

Caraway leaned over to Jean with a smug smile. “Our matinee idol here is afraid of flying.”

Jean’s eyes went wide. “Shut up. Really?”

Ken nodded weakly. “Why do you think I insisted on taking a boat from Los Angeles to New York?” There was a sudden sound of motor and gears shifting overhead and Ken blanched. “Oh Lord, what now?”

Outside, the thin metal panels atop the plane slid back to reveal a complex web of mechanisms and weaponry. Cogs turned and gears shifted as a giant engine rose up on powerful steel supports until it was six feet above the fuselage, the chrome metal gleaming in the moonlight.