Flight of the Phoenix (8 page)

“Get comfortable,” Tures said. “We have a long ride ahead of us.”

The train trip lasted most of the night. They rolled into the newly-constructed station in Kinshasa around four in the morning. Tures hustled them out of the train and into the streets. It was dark. Nobody stirred in this river town. Suddenly, out of the sky a dark shadow appeared. Bryn's heart pounded. For a terrible moment, she'd thought Priest in his dragon form had arrived in the town ahead of them.

The shape landed lightly in front of Tures, and she saw it was a vampire. The vampire was a black man. When he saw them, his fangs appeared. Tures laid one long-fingered hand on the vampire's bare chest and stopped him. “These people are with me. Take us to the ship.”

She turned to Bryn. “This is not one of my crew members. He lives by killing so be careful and do not trust him.”

The vampire's evil intent radiated from him. Only Fenix seemed indifferent to it. She looked around as though she'd just stepped out of a carriage on a Parisian street. Quinn wrapped his arm around Bryn's shoulder as they wound through the dusty alleys, between shacks and small compounds, as they slowly made their way to the river.

Kinshasa was on the south bank of the Congo. The train station had been built close to the river. Many travelers going up river used the railway. It was considered a portage railway as it circumvented two hundred miles of rapids, waterfalls and shallow water.

The sullen vampire's name was Kimbo. His eyes glowed white in his black face and whenever they came out of the shadows and into the moonlight, they glowed with a red light. He appeared alarmingly well-fed. His cheeks were full and his face round. Only his eyes reflected his extreme hunger. He yearned for their blood. The presence of Tures and the two Egyptian vampires was the only thing that kept him from attacking them.

The river was black and as smooth as glass. The boat waiting for them had two stacks and a stern wheel. Sam and Tomlinson, closely followed by Brighthouse, scrambled on board and immediately descended to the engine room to examine this new steam-powered engine. Bryn was exhausted.

They were met by the captain, another black man, this one human. He stood scowling at them from under a broad hat. He wore a baggy pair of tan pants and no shirt. Tures spoke briefly to him, passing him a cloth bag that jingled with coins. “Your staterooms are on the upper deck,” she said. In an under-voice, she whispered to Bryn. “My crew will sleep below. This captain has carried us before and has a room protected from light. Please keep a watch over Captain Okoro. He is only so trustworthy.” She glanced up at Quinn including him in her request.

Brynn nodded and watched her disappear below. The Joseph Conrad was a Belgian boat. As soon as they were aboard, crew members in tattered clothing drew in the ramp and the boat steamed into the river. Quinn took her arm and ushered her up rickety steps to their room. The sun was cresting the horizon to the east as the boat entered a huge lake. The damp air clung to Bryn's body and brought back memories of Africa from her early days. She'd been gone a very long time.

“This is a wild land,” Quinn said as he flopped onto a bed with a copious amount of mosquito nets encasing it on all sides.

Bryn batted at the netting irritably. “It seems everything here wants to drink our blood.”

Quinn laughed. “How long will we be on this boat?”

“I imagine at least a week. We are taking the river all the way to Stanleyville where we pick up bearers and head for the mountains.”

Quinn smiled and grabbed her around the waist. “We are together, safe from Priest and on an adventure. Smile, my darling.”

Bryn allowed him to embrace her. “Don't be too sure we're safe from Priest. He knows Africa and he knows where Kivunjo originated. Probably better than we do.”

* * * *

Priest gave up trying to track the undersea vessel holding Bryn and her sister. He knew where they were going. They sought Kivunjo. He flew in long lazy legs across the huge deserts of North Africa, hunting as a dragon, eating as a dragon eats. The voice in his head was relentless. Malenfant pressed him to find victims for his insatiable appetites and Priest, who had never been reluctant to kill before, suddenly grew saintly, refusing to even alight in a city. He delighted in remaining resolute in his refusal to find Malenfant victims for his perverse pleasure. Halfway across the desert, Malenfant went into hiding and stopped haranguing Priest's every moment. Draak gloated, thinking he'd finally rid himself of his parasite.

He flew across dense jungle for two days eating well. The jungle provided him with good hunting. When he landed in Stanley Falls Station, he morphed into a young priest and headed for the St. Bridget Mission. As he stepped out into the bright sunlight, the familiar, nagging whine of Cardinal Malenfant echoed in his head. “I see you finally stopped playing dragon. Now we can find us a nice, innocent woman. While you find one, I will think of some unique ways in which to defile her.”

Hideous chuckling filled Priest's head and he grabbed his hair. “Stop! If we kill one girl will you leave me alone?”

A feeling of warm satisfaction filled his head and belly. Malenfant's emotions were gaining more and more control. Apparently, while Malenfant had been quiet, he'd been gaining strength. Priest almost wanted to kill and torture a woman.

After he located the primitive mission and attended mass, Priest did as Malenfant desired and haunted the waterfront searching for a woman of easy virtue. There was only one seedy inn and a crude saloon. As the sun slowly set over the river, the calm water blazed with the golden and orange glow of a glorious sunset.

Hot, humid air blanketed Priest. His cassock clung to his legs and back. He'd never felt less like having sex in his life. While he should be rampantly horny, he only had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure what Malenfant planned, but knew it would be horrible.

An emaciated local woman approached him and gave him a sly smile. “Father priest, want to lie with a woman?”

She wore a colorful sarong over her loins, but her flat dugs hung slackly on her narrow chest. Her skin should have been a lustrous inky black but was only ashy. She had several open sores on her face. Priest felt sorry for her but felt no desire. She was obviously unhealthy. Malenfant pushed him. “Yes, take this one back to the mission. We will torture her in front of the altar while the nuns and holy fathers sleep.”

Priest had been prepared to do Malenfant's bidding, but for some reason this suggestion was so offensive, it hardened his resolve to never relent and perform for Malenfant. He lifted his arms, said the words, and morphed into his dragon form right in front of the terrified woman. Malenfant began screaming inside his head. The shrieks were those of an insane man and Priest bared his dragon teeth in a parody of a smile. Foiling Malenfant's perverted desires was almost as satisfying as futtering a beautiful woman. He thought of Bryn and remembered her white skin, soft round breasts and thick, silky black hair. He would wait for her to slake his appetites and try to think of a way to exorcise Malenfant. He could never be with Bryn or enjoy her luscious body as long as Malenfant inhabited his brain. To be forced to share her with the evil cardinal would be a travesty. He shuddered at the notion.

As he took flight above the jungle on the north bank of the river, he had an idea. Maybe the witch doctor could use the dagger of Lazarus to rid him of Malenfant's evil spirit. He blew a blast of fire into the tops of the tall trees. A heavy rainfall quickly extinguished the flames, but not before several monkeys died. Priest swooped down and scooped the charred creatures into his maw crunching happily. He had a plan. The only problem he could foresee was whether to capture Bryn and her sister before or after he exorcised Malenfant. He really did not want the evil Cardinal to spoil his pleasure.

The riverboat ride flew by for Fenix. She was comfortable; a minimum number of flying insects pestered her, she had satisfying food and could bathe. Africa was a nightmare.

As they steamed into Stanley Falls Station early in the evening, Tures and her crew of night creatures stood on the rail watching the dock come into view. A small herd of hippos waded slowly out of the water on the south bank to graze. A row of crocodiles lay on the north bank close to the dock. Fenix ignored the wildlife. Africa was crawling with all kinds of strange creatures. One soon grew accustomed to it. A cluster of fishing boats was drawn up on the bank on the other side of the dock and the hulk of a small steamboat that had sunk sat in the shallows showed only its one smokestack and part of the bow. The cataracts making up the last of the seven falls on the Lualaba River, a tributary of the Congo, roared in the distance.

Behind them, an island rose out of the mists. Several buildings sat on the island which was where Stanley Falls Station started. A dock poked into the river from the island with a steamboat tied to it bobbing in the wake from the Joseph Conrad.

They were getting closer and closer to Kivunjo's village. Soon Bryn would use the dagger to end her curse. Lazarus had whispered to Fenix in the night and filled her ears with words of love and insight. She now understood Bryn in a way she could never have done before Lazarus had entered her life and changed it forever.

The steamboat docked and everyone trooped off into the village of Stanley Falls Station. It was just a collection of huts with thatched roofs. A saloon and hotel were among the only substantial structures. Faded wood with rusted metal roofing and a sign announcing the Wagenia Falls Inn.

Tures hiked right by the inn and down a dirt track leading into the rural areas surrounding the town. They passed a mission which was little more than a hut and Fenix lagged behind. She wanted Bryn to end her curse, but this trip was becoming endless. Bryn dropped back to talk to her. “I think Tures plans to set off for the mountains right now.”

“I'm tired,” Fenix said. “Tired of traveling, tired of Africa. I remember the stench from the last time I was here, and the heat. I long for Paris. It's winter there. Soon it will be Christmas, and everything will be lighted and smell like evergreens.”

Bryn stared at her out of cold eyes. “My plight means nothing to you?”

Fenix sighed. “Of course I wish to help you end the curse. It is also my curse, but I can remember everything now and you've been dragging us all over the world for centuries in this quest and have only managed to make things worse. I yearn for blood, Bryn. I live half in and half out of the world of the vampires. There are times when I want to feed on humans and it's torture to smell them around me.”

“You never told me this before.”

“I didn't want to burden you with my problems. And would telling you of them have changed your mind? I think not. We'd still be trekking through the jungle with a bunch of blood drinkers.”

“That's very unkind of you to say, Fenix. You know I've always had your best interests in my heart.”

Fenix snorted. “As long as my interests coincided with yours.”

Bryn stopped and laid her hand on Fenix's arm. “Maybe we can fix you as well. Maybe Lazarus's dagger will restore your humanity.”

Fenix wanted to tell Bryn that Lazarus himself had already told her this wasn't possible, but held back. Why should she tell Bryn what Lazarus told only to her? Bryn would think her crazy or worse, if she did believe her, want to use Lazarus to her own purpose. “Yes, of course, maybe you can fix me as well.”

Bryn kissed her cheek and Fenix had to force herself not to turn away. “That's the Fenix I know. Of course the dagger will fix you. Its power is immeasurable.”

Tures stopped her trek into the farmland surrounding the village at a crudely-constructed barn. Three men sat there waiting. The barn was part of a strange complex; part farm, part machine shop. Tomlinson, Brighthouse and Fingle immediately trooped off to examine several machines being constructed beneath metal roofs in long open sheds. “What's going on here?” Fenix asked Tures who stood next to a conflicted Sam.

“We are constructing a new kind of flying machine, one that uses two huge rotors to lift it. It can rise vertically and land almost anywhere. I want one I can land on my ship.”

“I wish I could stay and work on it,” Sam said.

“You may not,” Tures said with a warm smile. “You are my life. You will always stay close to me.”

“You're lucky to get Tomlinson for your project,” Bryn said. “He's already worked on several flying machines.”

“I'm leaving him, Brighthouse and Fingle here. The aircraft is close to completion. It has a couple of bugs to work out and I think it will be ready to go.”

“The hardest part was the fuel and you have that,” Sam said. “I bet Tomlinson gets it flying in a matter of days.”

The three bearers picked up bundles of supplies gathered in one of the barns and hoisted them onto their heads. Tomlinson walked over to say goodbye. “I say, old man,” he said to Quinn. “This flying machine of Tures's will be amazing. The idea of lifting straight up is revolutionary.”

“Take care of yourself,” Quinn told him.

They shook hands. “You as well,” Tomlinson said. “This is a dangerous place.”

They said their goodbyes and began hiking toward misty mountains in the distance. It started to rain and a huge form suddenly swooped out of the clouds above them and shot into jungle. The enormous shadow expelled a blast of fire that briefly set the canopy ablaze. Bryn gasped and grabbed Fenix. “Priest!”

Tures broke into a run. They trotted across the open savannah until they reached the tall trees. When the last of their party was safely beneath the canopy, Tures stopped and walked back to stand beside Fenix. “He knows where we're going. The only thing we can do is stay under the trees where he can't see us.”

“He's young now. What does he want with us?” Fenix asked.