Paranormal Realities Box Set (28 page)

BOOK: Paranormal Realities Box Set
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No matter how charming his manner, it was
clear we would have no choice but to go with them.

Colonel Crowder clapped his hands and two
of the soldiers stepped forward to grasp our duffle bags.

“We can carry our own things,” I said,
resisting the pull.

The ghoul soldier tugging at my bag bared
his teeth and hissed at me. Rom was having a similar experience a few feet
away.

“I really must insist you allow us to
take them,” the Colonel said, a threat underlying his words. “We wish to be
good hosts and honored guests do not carry their own luggage.”

Reluctantly, I released my hold on the
duffle, as did Rom. So much for our weapons. But this turn of events wasn’t so
bad, I assured myself. At least we would easily find Prince Leopold. And if we
found the prince, we would find Juliette also...

Oh yeah, Billy would probably be there
too.

“All right.” I held up my hands. ”Take me
to your leader.” No doubt this was the only time I’d ever have a chance to use
that line.

At the exact moment the words left my
mouth, gunfire sounded. Several of the ghoul soldiers dropped, blackish blood
spurting from their wounds. The others scrambled for cover and lifted their own
weapons before commencing to return fire.

Rom pulled me with him back into the
shelter of the tower. Colonel Crowder ran in after us and cowered near the
wall. The ghoul soldiers remaining outside were cut down in quick order, many
of them taking gunshots to the head.

When they all lay still on the ground we
heard a shout.

“Come out. No weapons drawn,” a female
voice called.

Crowder shook his head and remained where
he was. Rom raised his hands and walked out. I followed him with my hands up too.
We were confronted with a group of five individuals who were armed with rifles
and dressed in street clothes. One, a young woman of about twenty, with dark
hair styled in an enormous beehive, stepped forward into my face. Wearing an
oversized black duster-style coat and heavy knee high boots, gave her skinny
body bulk and toughness she wouldn't otherwise have projected.

She grasped me by the shoulders and
stared into my eyes, squinting. “Show me your teeth,” she barked out.

I gave an exaggerated smile.

“Now you.” She pointed the rifle at Rom
and he opened his mouth wide. After a few seconds she nodded and said, “You
both seem human."

Her group seemed human to me too.

The woman turned to a man standing a few
feet away.

“Go get the other one out.”

The man saluted and followed her command,
disappearing through the arch. He appeared a few seconds later nudging Colonel
Crowder ahead at the point of the rifle’s muzzle.

The young woman approached the colonel
and looked him up and down.

“Ghoul,” she pronounced with a sneer
without even examining his teeth. As she cocked the rifle, Crowder recoiled and
held up a hand.

“No—“ he began.

She fired a shot to his gut, knocking
Crowder back even as a black oozing wound opened.

“Okay. Do it,” the young woman directed
her companions. Each of the five humans pulled a sword from beneath their
trench coats and began cutting off the heads of the fallen ghoul soldiers. I
had to turn away from the gruesome sight. Who were these humans? Would Rom and
I be treated to this brutality next?

As if sensing my questions, the young
woman approached Rom and me.

“I’m Sergeant Amy,” she said. “Of the
Human Resistance, First Division.”

“Amy.” One of the young men spoke as he
knelt beside one of our duffle bags. He’d extracted a gun from inside.
“Weapons."

Sergeant Amy grinned. “Humans with
weapons like that? I know who you are.”

Rom and I glanced at one another.

“You’re off worlders." She pointed
her gun at me. “I think the general will want to meet you."

 

* * * * *

 

Without our map I couldn’t be certain,
but it seemed Amy and her resistance troops were leading us away from
Buckingham Palace. Away from the prince and Juliette. Not that we had any
choice. As with Crowder, Amy seemed cordial but clearly we were going with her
whether we liked it or not.

Rom and I walked in the center surrounded
by the five young men and their weapons as Amy took the lead. On the city's
ground level, my impressions from the walkway of the bridge were confirmed. The
streets we traveled were narrow and like something out of a Dickens novel
allowed to sit fallow for a hundred years. The area was dirty and crumbling.

Struggling a bit to keep up with her
pace, I called out to Amy. “Those ghoul soldiers back there?”

“Yes?”

“I thought the ghouls only came out at
night.”

“They prefer the darkness,” Amy replied.
“But only direct sunlight truly harms them. Here, with the coal dust in the
air, the drizzle, and the cloud cover, they can pretty much come out whenever
the prince wants them to.”

The group stopped in front of a church
which had much of its façade covered in vines. Sergeant Amy walked to the door
where she rapped three times, paused and then rapped two more. The door opened
a crack and then the crack widened. We proceeded inside. Amy led us past the
door sentry and down the aisle of the nave between the pews.

Before we reached the altar, she stopped.

“Don’t dawdle during the next bit,” Amy
said. “And whatever you do, don’t step on any bones.”

Amy turned right and ushered us down a
flight of stairs and into the church crypt filled with tombs and caskets in
varying states of decay. We entered a catacomb where bones adorned the walls
and littered the dirt ground. I stepped carefully to avoid a femur that had
fallen into the path. However, I heard a crunching sound and saw that Rom’s
right foot had landed on a jawbone.

“Bloody hell,” Amy screamed. “Now you’ve
done it. You’ve awakened the Pretas.”

As the last of her words echoed off the
catacomb walls, ribbons of mist emerged from the bones surrounding us.

The ribbons twined and braided together
to form gauzy and translucent figures. The ghosts of two women and one man
whipped around us. The man rose into my face. His mouth opened and an
ear-splitting wail erupted.

I tripped over myself backing away from
the spirit and felt a bone crunch under my heel.

“Aaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee,” one of
the female ghosts squealed in fury. The other female spirit zeroed in on a
resistance fighter and nipped at his neck. The fighter screamed.

“Don’t move,” Amy shouted at me and Rom.
“Don’t step on any more bones.” Amy turned to the fighter next to her. “Hurry,
stupid,” she demanded. “Bread.”

The fighter fumbled into a pack he
carried as one of the ghosts flew at me and nipped at my shoulder.

“Ow,” I wailed and swatted at the ghost.
Of course, my hand passed through it. How could a non-corporeal being have such
sharp teeth?

The third ghost bit at Amy.

Finally, the fighter pulled out a few
pieces of white bread. Amy quickly broke them into pieces and tossed them about
the catacomb as if she were feeding pigeons. Somehow her offering appeased the
ghosts. They stopped biting at us and circled the bread chunks instead.

“Come,” Amy directed. “And be careful
this time, morons!”

“What were they?” I asked as she led us
through more tunnel.

"Hungry ghosts called Pretas,"
she replied. "Damn whoever brought them over from India. They’re a problem
almost every time we use that entrance.” She glared at Rom. “Particularly if
someone lacks the brains to keep from treading on the bones.”

We eventually reached a staircase of
earthen treads topped with planks of wood. The stairs led us into the midst of
what seemed to be an 1800s era kitchen crowded with a number of armed, ragtag
people stuffing their mouths with food. They barely glanced at us as we passed.

Amy marched us through a series of halls
until we reached a ballroom with an enormous, but dusty, chandelier at its
center. Any household furnishings that had once been there had been replaced
with a bustling headquarters of armed combatants. Numerous tables and desks
were scattered throughout the room. Situated at one end of the room was a
blackboard and in front of it stood an imposing older woman speaking to a group
huddled around her.

“Excuse me, General,” Amy called to the
woman. “You’ll be interested in our new friends.”

The woman left her group and strode
toward us. There was something familiar about her. Tall and “big boned”, as
Petra would have said, the woman was probably over fifty with gunmetal gray
hair worn in a bouffant. She dressed more formally than the rest in a tweed
suit with pearls around her throat.

As the woman approached, she scrutinized
Rom and me. Sizing us up no doubt.

Yes,” she commented while completing her
examination. “Very interesting, Sergeant.”

“Rom and Kizzy,” Amy introduced us. “This
is General Margaret Thatcher.” The general scrutinized us through narrow eyes.
After a few seconds she nodded and said, “Off worlders.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“We have had other humans appear before,”
the general noted. “Humans that appeared to spring out of the air. Humans from
other worlds.”

“No—” I began.

“Don’t bother to deny it, dear.” She gave
me a kindly smile and a pat on the arm.

“Our reconnaissance reported the recent arrivals
of three others through the Tower Bridge,” Sergeant Amy informed us. “The last
arrival was immediately taken by the prince’s guard. So we've kept the spot
under surveillance since then.” She glanced at the general as if for praise.
“And it paid off. We destroyed fifteen of the guard today including their
colonel.”

“Good work, Sergeant Amy.” The general
saluted her before turning back to us. “Come sit down and have a cup of tea.”
Her kindly grandmother tone was back. She snapped her fingers. One of the armed
men at the general’s back stepped forward. “Three cups of tea,”

“Right away, General.” He saluted and
scuttled off.

We sat down at the table and another of
the resistance soldiers came forward carrying our duffle bags. He took two guns
out and laid them on the table in front of the general.

“From these armaments it appears you have
come here on a mission." The general's eyes gleamed with excitement.

There was no point in denying it. I
glanced at my watch. Twenty hours, forty-five minutes and twenty-three seconds
until the portal sealed. We had to enlist this woman’s help. My gaze went to
Rom and he nodded as if knowing my thoughts.

“Yes,” I said. “We’ve come to rescue my
stepsister and her friend. They’re captives of Prince Leopold.”

“So these weapons were for use in
fighting the prince and his minions?”

“Their rescue must be immediate, else
their lives will be lost,” Rom told her.

Our eyes met. Somehow I knew he did not
want me to talk about the sealing of the portal.

“Would you be able to spare anyone to
assist us?” I asked. “We could use a guide to the palace.”

The general seemed not to hear me.

“How is it you return to your world?” she
asked with a smile. “Forgive my bluntness my dear but we are desperate. The
number of humans alive in this world dwindles daily under the onslaught of the
monsters. Obviously, your world interests me especially if you can obtain more
weapons for our use.”

“Perhaps weapons could be obtained,” Rom
offered. “The portal shall be reopened by our colleagues upon completion of our
mission.”

“I see.” The general eyed Rom doubtfully.
She glanced at me and I nodded as if to confirm what he’d said. Her eyes
narrowed and she frowned. Just as suddenly her manner transformed into the
kindly grandmother again. “I will consider what you’ve said. I’m certain we can
come to some arrangement.” The general snapped her fingers. “Sergeant Amy,
please show our guests to a room where they may rest and freshen up.”

“We don’t have time.” I struggled to keep
my eyes from the watch around my wrist.

“You shall just have to make time.” The
general scowled.

One of the resistance soldiers seized my
arm roughly and pulled me to my feet. With three other guards, Amy conducted us
out of the ballroom.

All I could think of was how the seconds
were slipping away, so I didn’t take note of my surroundings as we moved until
we stepped into a conservatory and a grouping of plants caught my eye.
Suddenly, the plant was right in front of me, rising high from a number of
pots.

“Stop,” I shouted, as our procession would
have passed the Downy Woundwort.

Sergeant Amy, startled, did indeed stop.

“This had better be good.” Her brows
converged in an angry frown. “I have other duties to perform after I get you
two situated.”

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