The Green Lama: Horror in Clay (The Green Lama Legacy Book 2) (13 page)

“You will be judged…” the creature rumbled. “Jethro Dumont.”

A blast of energy shot out of Jethro’s hand, sending the monster careening back into the opposite wall.

Jethro spat out a wad of blood, his head spinning. The effects of the radioactive salts had diminished further, and Jethro knew the longer he remained in contact with the monster, the faster his power drained. It could only mean that the creature was somehow tied to the source of his power. But how could that be possible? The one other person who had ever come close to that power was dead.

The creature climbed out of the wall, its clay skin cracked but its body intact; if it felt any pain it didn’t—couldn’t—show it.

“WHAT ARE YOU?!” Jethro shouted.

The creature took a massive step forward. “The Avenger of Vltava,” it said, slamming Jethro’s head into the wall.

• • •

“Okay, everyone calm the hell down!” Ken stepped between Jean and Rabbi Brickman. “Let’s put away the weaponry and the crazy, pull up a couple of chairs, sit down and talk about this like normal people. How about that?”

The Rabbi pointed the gun at Ken.

Ken swallowed the lump in his throat. “Or not…”

“What do you know, Miss Farrell?” the Rabbi said, turning the gun back to Jean, his hand visibly shaking. “Please. I do not wish to harm anyone.”

“The refinery,” Jean said, her voice weak but stern.

The Rabbi blinked with surprise. “You… You mean… the clay refinery…?”

“Yes. Dr. Pali…” she gave Ken a sharp look. “The
real
Dr. Pali and I were there.”

“When?”

“Almost two days ago now. The Green Lama found traces of the clay at the German consulate. Dr. Pali traced it back to the refinery.”

The Rabbi allowed himself a sardonic smile, shaking his head in bemused disbelief. “The clay. Of course… I suppose I should have considered that… How foolish of me. And what did you find?”

Gesturing with her chin, Jean indicated the small piece of parchment on the Rabbi’s desk. “The place was practically buried in the stuff. I’m guessing you tore up a lot of very old books to do that.”

“Older and holier than you could ever comprehend. But I did not tear them up… Heaven forbid. That was… an unexpected reaction to the procedure.”

“There was also a wall, covered in Hebrew.”

“Prayers, sanctifying the structure.”

“And…” Jean shut her eyes. A tear streamed down her cheek. “I saw—” The words got caught in her throat. “We were attacked by that…
thing
.”

“Ah,” the Rabbi closed his eyes mournfully. “That’s where he was hiding. I thought as much, but I was too scared to look. So childish of me… afraid of my own creation…”

“‘Creation?’” Ken asked. “Look, I arrived a little late to this party, so can someone please explain what the hell we are talking about?”

“My child…” the Rabbi sighed. “My golem.”

Suddenly an explosion echoed from the heavens, as if the sky itself had cracked open. The room filled with a blinding green light, and then there was silence.

“Hey! Hey, Boss? You okay, Lieutenant?”

Caraway forced his eyes open and watched the world come back from darkness and fog. Officer Heidelberger, his hair billowing out like a curly black cloud, hovered over Caraway, visibly concerned. Behind the young officer, Caraway saw the massive girth of Sergeant Wayland. Both were dressed in their civilian clothes, with Heidelberger looking particularly ridiculous in an oversized button-down shirt and bright red bowtie.

“What’re you all standin’ around for?” Caraway grumbled, feeling like he had just woken up from a deep sleep. He was still seated where he had fallen, though the building looked as if it had been bombed repeatedly for months. “Look at this place. I’m out for a little while and you boys trash it up.”

Wayland and Heidelberger shared a look.

“Whatchya talking about, Boss?” Wayland asked.

“We both got a call to run down here fast as we could,” Heidelberger added. “They said the building was practically coming down on their heads. Place was so torn up you couldn’t walk up the stairs. Hell, we’re only the first ones to make it up this far.”

Caraway looked over the destruction again, the memories of the clay creature slowly returning. “Ah, yeah. That was partially my fault.” He looked back at his officers. “I was fighting a monster, y’know?”

Heidelberger’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

“You don’t think I could do this all on my own, do ya, kid?” Caraway said with a sardonic smile. “Dunno what the hell it was, but I’m pretty sure it was behind the attack on the German consulate.”

Wayland scratched the fat mass below his chin. “Then how’d you survive, Boss?”

Caraway considered this. “You know… That is an excellent question…” It was only then that Caraway realized he hadn’t felt any pain since awakening. There was no throbbing from his stitches, no aching from his broken bones. Glancing down at his body, he saw the blood-soaked bandages and pool of dried blood surrounding him. He lifted up his shirt, pulled away the bandaging, and almost fell back in shock. There wasn’t a single mark on him, not even so much as a bruise. It wasn’t that he had been healed—it was as if he had never been injured at all. Even ancient battle scars like the bullet wound he had suffered flying over Germany were gone. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

“I gotta admit, Boss,” Wayland ventured, “last time we saw you, you looked like… well…”

“Like I should be dead...” Caraway finished as he stood up and pulled off the rest of his bandaging. “Where’s Gan? He okay?”

Wayland gave him a bewildered look. “Gan?”

Caraway raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah… Gan. The balding kraut fella. Funny accent; can kick your ass six ways till Sunday. Nazi. You see him recently?”

“Can’t say we have, Lieutenant,” Heidelberger said with a pronounced shrug. “Haven’t seen him since we did the line-up.”

“What? No, he was here. He was in my office when the—oh no…” Caraway rushed back through the destruction toward the remains of his office, finding only rubble. Gan was nowhere to be seen, a ripped red armband the only evidence he had been there at all.

Caraway picked up the torn armband. “Where did he go?” he whispered.

Suddenly an explosion echoed from the heavens, as if the sky itself had cracked open, rattling small pieces of debris down from the ceiling.

“Moses in a hand basket,” Heidelberger cried. “What was that!?”

Caraway walked over to the breach in the wall overlooking the street. His eyes followed a trail of destruction that stretched away from the police, a faint green glow in the sky. The wind whipped around him, cold and angry. “Sounded like thunder.”

• • •

Jethro spat out a mouthful of blood as he pulled himself out of a twisted mass of metal and glass that, only moments before, had been a trolley. Ripping a shard of glass out from his arm, he watched as people ran away in all directions, a cacophony of screaming and shouting as they scrambled over each other, trying to escape the monstrosity that was tearing through the streets.

Their battle had left a path of destruction in its wake; cars and buildings were smashed to pieces, the ground itself ripped asunder. Jethro had done his best to protect bystanders from harm, but he bitterly acknowledged it was impossible for him to save everyone, a truth laid bare before him in the decapitated body of a young woman.

In need of strength, he mournfully supplicated, “
Om! Vajrapani Hum Phat!”

Stumbling forward, Jethro struggled not to collapse from the pain reverberating throughout his body. He was getting exponentially weaker; each blow the creature landed hurt worse than the last. He could no longer generate blasts of energy and flight was a distant memory. He still had some strength left, but nowhere near his “normal” superhuman levels. He collapsed to his knees. He couldn’t stand anymore.

He was going to die. He could feel it in his broken bones—there was no way he could survive this. Something inside him heaved and he fell forward onto his elbows as he began coughing up more blood, a stream of black and crimson. Several feet away the creature watched Jethro, its head tilted to one side as if fascinated by his frailty.

“I have killed all those who would harm the children of Abraham and Sarah in this city,” it said. The ground rumbled at the creature stepped toward Jethro. “To protect those across the sea, I need what you possess.” The creature grabbed Jethro by his robes, bringing him up so they could look at each other eye-to-eyeless-socket. With its other hand, the creature brought up Jethro’s right wrist, indicating the ring on his middle finger. “This,” it said with a lipless smile.

An explosion echoed down from the heavens, as if the sky itself had cracked open and everything around them suddenly became shrouded in a blinding green light. Jethro screamed as he felt every atom in his body ripped apart one by one.

A moment later both he and the creature were gone, as if they had never been there.

Chapter 10

THE TABLET OF REVELATIONS

Jean was thrown back against a bookshelf, ancient tomes raining down. A blinding green light enveloped the room. She could hear the air
pop
as vacant space was instantaneously filled, warm air gushed past, stealing the breath from her lungs. Somewhere deep inside her, within the recesses of her mind, she sensed something terrifyingly familiar. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw it standing above her, the creature from the factory, Rabbi Brickman’s golem. At its feet, to her horror, lay the Green Lama, bloody and broken, near death. His head rolled limply to face her. His eye lids were bruised and swollen and, though they were open, she could barely see his irises.

“Ne-tso-hbum …” he whispered in relief, a pained smile on his bloodied lips. “You’re okay…”

Her stomach twisted. “Tulku… Oh, God… Tulku.” She wanted more than anything to run to him, but fear pinned her down.

Across the room, Ken cowered with his back against the Rabbi’s desk, his eyes wide and skin pale from fright. “Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy crap,” he chattered breathlessly.

Rabbi Brickman, who now looked minuscule against the towering golem, was the only one still standing. Stepping forward, he began speaking to the golem in what Jean now recognized as Hebrew. She could see that despite the Rabbi’s arched back and stern intonation, his hands were shaking. The creature whispered back in its dark sandpaper voice. The Rabbi glanced down at the Green Lama and frowned in understanding, saying his name aloud.

Jean found the courage inside her to force herself back to her feet, but was unable to move any closer. “What is it saying?” she whispered.

The Rabbi turned and considered Jean, as if he had forgotten she was there. He sighed deeply and left his gaze fall to the floor. “
He
says that his task here is finished. But he needs this one,” he said, indicating the Green Lama, “if he is to continue his mission elsewhere. The Green Lama, yes, I’ve heard so much about you. You are a good man. Now you will help us avenge the children of Abraham and Sarah across the ocean.”

Jean’s brow furrowed. “Avenge? This is about
vengeance
?”

The Rabbi’s shoulders sagged. “In a way.”

“It is or it isn’t,” Jean said incredulously. “There ain’t no in-between here, padre. You created this thing for revenge? Against who? The Germans? For what? You had it kill hundreds of innocent—“

“Don’t you
dare
call them that!” the Rabbi shouted, his face red and eyes blazing. He thrust a finger at her as if he were accusing her of a heinous transgression. “Don’t presume to comprehend the circumstances of this creature’s existence. It is not as black and white as it may appear. Every single person the golem killed at that consulate was or will be guilty of the greatest crime ever committed.”

“What are you talking about? What crime? Look, no one’s denying the Nazis are a bunch of goose-stepping fascists, but—“

“Six million!” the Rabbi screamed, spittle tracing his lips. “Six million of
my
people will be sentenced to death, suffering horrors unimaginable before the end! Men, women… children, all will fall victim to these…
monsters
! Firing squads, starvation… gas chambers… crematoriums filled with children’s screams as they are burned alive. There was no innocence there!”

Jean found herself pressed against the wall, her eyes wide in terror. “How… How do you know all this?” she whispered.

The Rabbi backed away, tears streaming down his wool-covered cheeks. Jean could tell he was fighting back sobs.

“Because I… I saw it. I saw it all… I was on a pilgrimage in Jerusalem several years ago, hoping to learn more of the Talmud and Kabbalah. While there I chanced upon an archeological dig at an ancient temple. I always had an interest in archeology…” The Rabbi wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “I wandered off into the ruins. I should have expected the wood to be weakened after so many centuries… Falling through, I found myself in an antechamber… a trophy room for the ancient Hebrews, spoils of war. There were so many… beautiful things.” The Rabbi allowed himself a small grin at the corner of his mouth. “On the walls I saw images of the Ark of the Covenant, the Staff of Ra! There were crystal skulls and gold plated sarcophagi of the pharaohs…!” Rabbi Brickman’s face turned dark, his eyes never the leaving the floor. Each breath he took was shorter than the last; it was as if he were still there, in the darkness of the lost antechamber, fear rattling his bones. “But at the far corner… Hidden in the shadows… Hashem, save me… The most terrifying thing I have ever laid eyes on. It was… a statue of a… creature… an ancient and forgotten god. It was hideous, but I couldn’t look away. All those amazing things and I found myself drawn to that horror… As I drew closer I realized it wasn’t carved… not etched or chiseled… but
grown
, like coral. At the base, I still remember, it had the same phrase written over and over in almost every ancient language.” Tears were streaming down the Rabbi’s face, soaking his beard. He shuddered. “‘
Cthulhu fhtagn
,’” he whispered. “‘Cthulhu waits…’”