Flight of the Phoenix (3 page)

“No, I won't kill the women I lie with. Now that I am young again, there is no need to murder them or violate them. I am filled with the lust of youth and have the hard cock to go with it.”

“You may futter as many women as you like. I must admit, I've enjoyed your escapades up to this point, but now, you must allow me to take your primitive act to a higher level.”

Priest grabbed his head. “Get out of my mind!”

The dry chuckle escalated into a loud belly laugh that echoed throughout his skull. “You can't get rid of me. You dug up my bones. You took them from their consecrated resting place and woke me. My spirit helped you regain your youth and I intend to enjoy it with you.”

“You can't be inside me. You're ruining everything. I've been waiting for this moment for centuries. Get out!”

“Maybe you should employ a witch to help rid your mind of my spirit.” More loud guffaws filled Priest's mind and he tore at his hair.

“Noooo!”

When he screamed, the cab driver stopped his horse, jumped off his box and ripped the door open. Priest tumbled out of the cab and onto the cobbles still tearing at his head. The driver kicked Priest away from his vehicle, leaped back on the box and whipped his horse into a trot, leaving Priest laying on the cobbles rolling back and forth, holding his head and shrieking.

“We have to leave right now,” Bryn yelled over her shoulder. “Priest sent those snakes. He'll be back.”

Fenix followed her up the stairs to the second floor. “Where's Quinn?”

Bryn shrugged. “I don't know. He was here when we went into the basement.”

Quinn's head popped out of Bryn's bedroom. “I'm right here. What is amiss?”

Bryn grabbed his shoulders. “Priest is still in Paris. He sent five snakes into the house to kill us.”

Quinn shook his head. “Why would he want to kill you now? He got what he wanted. I imagined him screwing his way through most of the whorehouses in Paris.”

Bryn snatched her trunk out of the closet and began tossing clothes into it willy nilly. “Fenix, pack!” She paused in her furious packing and stared blankly at Quinn. “It's been two days since he regained his youth. Maybe he got tired of screwing his way through the brothels of Paris. He's been after us forever. It's become a habit. His life. We have become an obsession with him.”

Quinn grabbed her arm to stop her from throwing an armful of intimate apparel into the trunk. “Where do you think you're running off to?”

“Africa.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“No, we know exactly what we're doing and where we must go. We will go to the Belgian Congo specifically. We did a scrying and the dagger is there.”

“Stop, Bryn, and listen to me. You can't just run off to Africa. It's a very long ways away.”

“I know that, Quinn, I was born there.”

“Just how do you plan to get there?”

“Airship. Sam and Tomlinson are examining the fastest airship in the world right now at the Paris Exposition. I'm going to borrow it.”

Quinn tilted his head. “An airship?”

“Yes, the Betsy Ann. It's a Titan Airship, fastest one made.”

Quinn grabbed his valise and began shoving his own garments into it. “I'm coming with you.”

She stopped packing and stared at him. “You would come to Africa for me?”

He smiled and pulled her against his hard body. “My darling, I would walk across the Great Sahara barefoot for you. I also have an interest in ending this curse as you know.”

Bryn smiled. “I do know. And when we find a safe place and a few hours to ourselves, I have a surprise for you.” Bryn still had the amulet given to her by her friend and fellow witch, Katherine. The witch had promised the amulet would release her from her curse for one night. That meant, for one night, she would be able to make love to Quinn without fear of him bursting into flames and dying a horrible death.

“What kind of surprise?”

She produced a black velvet bag from the drawer beside her bed. “In this bag is a charm that will allow us one night of pleasure.”

Quinn's eyes flew open. “Are you joking?”

“No, my dear, it was given to me by a witch I have known many centuries.”

“And you trust this, this charm?” His face reflected doubt and also hope.

Bryn shoved the black velvet bag into the outside pocket of a brightly-colored carpet bag and Quinn grabbed her wrist. “You mean we can consummate our relationship in a normal way?”

She smiled. “There's no time to explain fully. Hurry and pack. We must leave immediately.”

Quinn snagged her arm. “Oh no you don't. Finish telling me. What does this charm do?”

She grinned at him mischievously. “You must wait. We have to leave.”

“The minute we are alone, you will explain.”

She tilted her head. “Of course, and I guarantee you the wait will be worthwhile.”

When all the bags were downstairs, Fingle loaded them into her carriage and Bryn hugged Babbette. The maid could not leave Paris. She was tied to it in a very strange way and would wither and die it she left. She'd been caring for Bryn's home for two hundred years.

“Send me a message when you are safe,” Babbette said.

Bryn kissed the maid's cheek. “I will. Take care of yourself.”

Babbette's shrug spoke volumes. She smiled and waved as Bryn climbed into the carriage. Fingle mounted the box and headed the horses in the direction of the Eifel Tower and the Paris Exposition.

* * * *

The Titan was easy to find. It rested in a large field on the outskirts of the Expo. Bryn leaped down and went hunting for Samantha who was integral to her plan. Her dear friend had her head crammed into the engine compartment under the metal shroud encasing one of the huge engines hanging under the floating gas bag. There were two engines flanking the passenger compartment. Each brass shroud concealed an engine as large as the passenger cabin.

She tapped on Sam's back. Her friend started, bumped her head on the shroud and backed rapidly out of the engine. “Bryn, you scared me nearly witless. Why are you here?”

Bryn glanced left and then right to make sure no one could overhear. “We must leave immediately. Priest is still after us. He sent snakes into the house.”

Sam had a smudge of grease on her cheek and her curly brown hair was a mess. “Where will we go?”

“The Belgian Congo. The witch doctor is there.”

Sam's round eyes were filled with confusion. “How?”

Bryn rolled her eyes in the direction of the airship.

“No! You can't.”

Bryn shrugged. “Why not? You and Tomlinson can fly it. Can you not?”

“Well yes, but what about Commodore Brightstone? He does own it.”

“Is he here?”

Sam nodded.

“Then I suggest we take him. I'll have a talk with him right now.”

“Bryn, this is crazy.”

Bryn grabbed Sam's shoulders. “You think I am unaware of this fact? We are desperate, Sam. Now is not the time for feminine histrionics. Now is the time to act. Show Fingle where to stow the luggage.”

Sam nodded. “I will, but I don't think the Commodore is going to be happy.”

Bryn waved. “The Commodore is going to be delirious with joy at the opportunity to accompany us to Africa.”

The Commodore, his hands locked behind his back, strolled leisurely around the outside of the airship at the head of a small group of Parisian officials. As he expounded on the speed and efficacy of his two engines, Bryn slipped into the group of four men dressed in three-piece suits, ties and bowler hats. Two carried canes and one periodically checked an enormous timepiece.

Separating the Commodore from the herd would be the trick. She pulled her blouse lower to expose her cleavage and tugged at his sleeve. The Commodore turned to speak to her and his eyes dropped to her breasts. He smiled. “How may I help you, Miss?”

Bryn lifted her gaze and stared the Commodore right in his watery blue orbs. She whispered a spell to mesmerize him and batted her eye lashes. The Commodore's eyes glazed and Bryn knew she had him. “Tell these gentlemen the tour is over.”

The Commodore did as he was instructed. The city officials seemed glad to escape and scattered quickly. “This way, Commodore.”

The Commodore followed her to the entrance of the passenger compartment where two guards were stationed to keep the curiosity seekers out. She pushed the Commodore in front of her. “Tell them we're leaving shortly,” she hissed. “And to go home.”

When the two guards had shuffled away, she shoved the Commodore aboard and ran to get Sam and Fingle. Tomlinson was standing with Sam and Quinn. His usual bland expression had been replaced by one of shock. “You aren't seriously considering flying this thing to Africa?” He demanded of Bryn.

Bryn ignored him. “Fingle, load the bags into the passenger compartment. The Commodore is inside and we really need to get underway. Sam, see if you can get the engines running.”

“I say, Bryn, this is insane,” Tomlinson interjected.

She turned on him. “Of course it is but any other option is unthinkable. Priest is much stronger, he's younger, and he's after us. Come with us or stay here. It matters not. We will be leaving immediately. Should you decide to remain behind, I'm sure Sam can maintain the engines.”

“No, no,” Tomlinson stuttered. “Consider me on board, though in my opinion, this is still a crazy scheme.”

Bryn rolled her eyes. “If you can manage to constrain your negativity, please assist Sam in getting the engines running at full capacity. We leave as soon as they are ready.”

When he'd run off to do as she bid, she hustled Fenix and Quinn on board after Fingle. She heard the roar of the engines starting and ran around the outside of the airship to speak to them. “Get the lines off,” she screamed. The green and gold gas bag of the ship high above them bobbed in the stiff autumn breeze tethered to the ground by ropes. It had a pointed nose to assist in airspeed, a tall, spiked dorsal fin and a fishtail-like rudder at the back for maneuvering.

Tomlinson screamed back. “I'll get the crew to set us free.”

Bryn found Sam in the pilot's house. “As soon as the lines are off, take her up.”

Tomlinson pushed his way into the pilot's cabin. “Lines are off. Get into the passenger's cabin.”

Bryn raced along the bouncing airship and dived into the door of the passenger cabin just as it lifted. The engines engaged and the entire ship pointed toward the sky and jetted into the air. They were headed for Africa.

Draak Priest woke in the middle of the street in a puddle of horse urine. He opened his eyes and screamed. Cardinal Malenfant had entered his body and was inside his head. After centuries of longing for his youth to be returned, just as he received that gift, he was cursed again. He groaned and sat up. A dray pulled by six enormous draft horses headed toward him hauling a massive wagon loaded with barrels. He rolled out of the way in the nick of time. The big animals splashed more horse piss on him and he was hit in the head with a clump of shit to top it all off.

He sat in the reeking gutter clutching his head. Maybe the Cardinal was gone. He hadn't heard from him since he awoke.

“I'm still in here, you cretinous moron. And now we stink. No woman would allow you within ten feet of her smelling of piss and shit. Go find a place to clean your person. And throw these garments away.”

Priest whimpered with barely suppressed rage. Now the intruder was assuming command and issuing orders. However, Malenfant was correct. He would have to change. He clambered to his feet and brushed flecks of filth off his black cassock. His silver cross swung at his side and he wished he could stab himself in the brain with its pointed end and kill Malenfant.

A sudden noise overhead caught his attention. He looked up just in time to see an airship shoot toward the clouds with its huge engines roaring. It flew south toward Spain, the Mediterranean and then Africa. In his heart, he knew Bryn had commandeered it and was headed for the Congo to find Kivunjo's dagger. He felt her essence on board. She was running from him. He snorted. She'd never lose him. He was so connected to her, he could find her anywhere.

He shook himself and prepared to morph into a dragon. He was thinking the spell when Malenfant interrupted. “And exactly what do you think you're doing?”

“I'm transforming myself into my dragon form to go after Bryn and her sister, not that it's any of your business. Leave me and my affairs alone, Malenfant. I'm warning you.”

Hysterical laughter erupted inside his head. “Listen to me, Draak Priest, you're not in charge here. I am. Do you really think you can evict me? I am here to stay, my son. I haven't felt this good since the Inquisition. So many people lined up for me to torture. It was the best of times. The screams of the tortured and fresh blood are the strongest of aphrodisiacs.”

Priest felt Malenfant shudder with barely suppressed excitement. “You will find a woman immediately following your ablutions and we will disembowel her while she still lives.”

Priest shook his head and set off for his lodgings. “I will bathe, but then I am going to follow the twins. They are mine. I have watched them for centuries and I will have that black-haired witch if it's the last thing I do.”

* * * *

The flight was going smoothly. At first Fenix couldn't believe they had left Paris by stealing a huge airship and were headed for Africa. Commodore Brightstone sat trussed like a Christmas goose in one of the red velvet chairs. His pale blue eyes glared at her from under bushy gray eyebrows. He possessed an amazing set of muttonchop whiskers and an enormous handlebar mustache and goatee. The whiskers covered a tendency for his jowls to droop and the goatee gave him the chin nature and heredity had denied him. He wore a tan and black herringbone suit with a black vest. It was rumpled from his hasty capture but he retained his dignity.