The Green Lama: Horror in Clay (The Green Lama Legacy Book 2) (12 page)

“Miss Farrell, please, calm down—” Rabbi Brickman said, doing his best to mollify her.

Jean grabbed Ken by the lapels. “Where is he, Ken? We need the Green Lama, Ken. We need him now.”

“I don’t know, where he… He just—just sent me here to ask a couple of questions and report back…” He pried her hands loose and held them tightly in his own. “Jean, what do you mean the Rabbi’s behind everything? Everything
what
? What do you mean?”

The Rabbi tried to interject. “Miss Farrell, please calm—”

“The attack on the German consulate… The burning clay… That
thing
at the factory. It was him! He’s behind it all!”

“Jean, I—I don’t understand what you’re talking about… How do you know
all this?”

She shook her head and fought back tears. Ken could feel her body shiver. “I don’t know…! I just… I just do. You have to believe me.”

“Okay, okay. I believe you. We’ll call the Lama. It’ll be all—“

Click.

“Now, if we could all just calm down for a moment,” the Rabbi said evenly.

Jean and Ken turned in unison to find the Rabbi standing beside them, gun in hand.

“Aw… Crap,” Ken moaned.

• • •

Beneath the ringing in his ears Caraway could hear the slow, thumping footsteps of the killer. Half buried in rubble, he blinked through the darkness and shadows of a concussion and debris to finally see, with his own eyes, the man they had been hunting… Except it wasn’t a man, or at least, not in any way
human
.

Standing well over seven feet tall with barrel-like shoulders, it looked like a giant hand sculpted clay figurine. Everything about the creature was wrong, disproportionate, as if made by unskilled hands. The feet balanced the massive body, but even they were too large, too rounded and fat, reminding Caraway of gigantic hooves. The legs were thick and stubby compared to the immense upper body and long sequoia-like arms. The face was rudimentary, the mouth nothing more than a slit; a nose was there in shape but not function, the nasal cavities nothing more than dents. On the forehead were three symbols dug deep into the “flesh,” as if a child had written his name in wet cement with a finger. Its eyes, however, were horrifying. Caraway bit back a scream. The eyes were vacant holes of darkness, impossibly glowing a deep shade of green.

A terrible gash ran down the side of Gan’s face, blood streaming down his neck as he lay unconscious at the creature’s feet.

“The children of Abraham and Sarah have been wronged,” it whispered with its dark sandpaper voice as it grabbed Gan with its massive hand. The slit moved in sync with the words, but there were neither teeth nor tongue behind those lips. “Those who wear the crooked cross shall pay for their crimes.”

The creature lifted Gan up to its disproportionate head, its vacant eyes glowing an even deeper green, radiating the room with a deathly hue, burning Caraway’s skin like the desert sun. He shut his eyes and turned away, gritting his teeth at the pain. The light quickly subsided, and Caraway risked a glance back at the creature, which was examining Gan like a fly on a pin. “I see inside you and know you.” It dropped Gan to the ground like a rag doll. “And you are not guilty.”

The creature then cocked its head to the side. “But I see you, Lieutenant John Caraway,” it said as it turned and took a massive step toward him. “And I will see inside you and know your
crimes.”

“Aw, hell,” Caraway grumbled as he propped himself up onto his elbow and struggled to find his sidearm amongst the rubble.

“You’ve aided the men of the crooked cross. I know this.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Caraway whispered as he pushed aside pieces of brick and glass. “I’m a bad, bad man.”

He could feel the creature walk over him, the glowing eyes burning his skin. Pulling himself across the floor, Caraway shoved his hands deep into the rubble, hoping to find something he could use against the monster. “I guess this is moot at this point,” Caraway said, “but I’m guessing you’re the one behind the murders at the German consulate?” The creature didn’t reply. “Going for the strong, silent type? And you were all chatty a minute ago.”

The creature’s massive fingers wrapped around Caraway’s midsection, squeezing at his wounds, popping open stitches, blood seeping through the bandages. Caraway grunted in pain and forced his hand deeper into the rubble until he felt the chill of cold steel before the creature lifted him off the ground.

“So, is this the point where you start your monologue?” Caraway coughed, tasting blood. “Turn on your eye lights and peer deep within my soul?”

“The children of Abraham and Sarah have been wronged…” the creature reiterated, his eyes once again glowing a deep jade.

“Yeah, and you will pay for your crime,” Caraway said as he lifted up his pistol, planting the barrel in the creature’s left eye, and fired.

The creature hollered, a nightmarish sound that seemed to shake the very fibers of the world around them. Without a moment to lose, Caraway pried himself free and dropped hard to the ground, a jagged piece of rubble stabbing him in the side. Despite the pain, Caraway launched to his feet and ran through the gaping hole in the wall of his office into the disaster area that was once the squad room. Risking a glance behind him, he saw the creature still screaming as it clutched at its left eye, jade steam rising up out of the socket. He had injured it, but that wasn’t going to be enough, Caraway reminded himself, clutching his side. This
thing
was behind the slaughter at the German consulate; if he was going to survive the next five minutes, he needed help. Now.

Rounding a corner, Caraway discovered a gaping hole in the wall at the end of the hall, answering the question of how the creature had entered the police station. The late-night sounds of New York City wafted in with the breeze, sounds of normalcy juxtaposed against Caraway’s sheer sense of terror.

Dammit, Caraway thought, feeling his heart beat in his throat, why does it always have to be so goddamn quiet when things get so goddamn terrifying?

The creature’s arms exploded out from the wall behind Caraway. Diving forward, he felt the monster’s colossal hands swing just past his head. He rolled forward, landing with his back against the opposite wall. He felt the last of his stitches burst open, blood soaking his suit. Dizzy, he watched in subdued terror as the creature smashed through into the hallway, as if the brick and mortar were nothing but cardboard.

“You will be judged,” the creature intoned, a green luminescent steam emanating from its damaged left eye.

“Aw, can it already!” Caraway shouted as he fired every remaining round, pockmarking the creature’s body but doing nothing to slow its approach. His ammunition expended, he weakly tossed his pistol and watched it bounced off the creature’s clay surface and clatter to the floor. The creature loomed over him, its black and jade eyes glowing in silhouette.

“All right,” Caraway whispered, his eyes half-shut, slowly losing consciousness from the blood loss. “Do it if you’re gonna do it. Ain’t no use in holding up the inevitable.”

The creature considered Caraway. “You are not like the others. You do not cower.”

“Heh.” He tilted his head up to face the creature. “Might die sitting down, but I’m gonna die a man. And no offense, ugly, but you’re not the scariest thing I’ve ever faced before.”

The creature raised its massive clenched hands over its head. “Very well.”

As the creature brought its fists down upon him, Caraway thought he heard someone whisper: “
Om! Ma-ni Pad-me Hum!
”

Chapter 9

THE BREAKING OF THE SKY

The Green Lama flew through the gaping hole the creature had left on the side of the police station. Until now, Jethro had never achieved sustained flight, only obtaining brief moments of levitation, but since consuming the enhanced radioactive salts he had quickly discovered a host of terrifying new abilities. His strength had quadrupled; his hearing, his sight… all his senses had moved well beyond human levels. His body visibly crackled with electricity, his eyes becoming a luminescent green. But all of this was at a cost. His all too human frame was being pushed well beyond its natural limit, and with each passing second Jethro could feel the power quickly draining, knowing that it would be a long time before he would ever be able to safely reach this level of power again.

But for now, for the first time since taking the mantle, Jethro
was
the Green Lama.

Moving at a speed that would have killed any other man, the Green Lama positioned himself between Lieutenant Caraway and the clay creature, catching the monster’s massive fist seconds before it could deal the killing blow.

“
Om! A Ma Ra Ni Dzi Wan Ti Ye Soha!
” the Green Lama chanted. “You will take no more lives tonight!”

Swinging his fist, the Green Lama dealt a powerful blow against the creature, sending it back through the wall and into the squad room, the impact echoing with an audible
BOOM!
Glass shattered and the building shook around him. The Green Lama could hear shouts from the floors below. The police, already alerted to a commotion several floors above them, were no doubt alarmed by the veritable earthquake in which they now sat at the center.

With only moments to spare, the Green Lama turned to Caraway, who had already slipped into unconsciousness in an ever-increasing pool of crimson. Time was short. Pressing his electrified palm against Caraway’s
chest, the Green Lama could feel the life quickly draining out of his friend’s heart, each beat becoming
more distant than the last.
The Green Lama closed his eyes and chanted under his breath.

Without conscious thought, the Green Lama sent a blast of energy out through his hand into Caraway’s body. He could sense the life force coursing through Caraway’s veins until it found his heart. The effect was instantaneous, the burst wounds on Caraway’s body healing up before the Green Lama’s eyes, as if there had been no damage at all. Color returned to his skin and his shallow breaths became deeper and steadier. Impossibly, he would survive.

Jethro stared at his hand in momentary disbelief at the power he was wielding.
Just a rich boy playing the games of gods
…

But now was not the time for such ruminations.

The Green Lama turned to face the creature, which was pushing itself up off the squad room floor. Stepping through the wide crack in the wall, he made a tentative approach. Reviving Caraway had drained him, but he still had the strength to fight.

“Yield,” the Green Lama commanded.

The creature stood, its clay face showing signs of cracking, glowing green from within. The Green Lama could feel the creature’s power radiating out, bending reality, and recognized it as his own.

“You were at the refinery. I sensed you then… We…” the Green Lama stuttered. “We are… connected. How?”

The creature clenched its fist. “The children of Abraham and Sarah have been wronged… You will be judged.”

The Green Lama nodded his head in a stilted bow. “So be it, then.”

They launched at each other, a blur of jade. Their fists flew; the Green Lama’s met the creature’s abdomen, while its fist struck his jaw. The collision blasted them apart, a sonic blast that rattled the very foundation of the building. The monster fell into the wall behind him, crashing out to the world below. The Green Lama soared back through the hole in the wall, through the hallway, breaking through another wall and another, until he found himself tumbling down to the street, a bullet from the sky. He crashed into the ground, rupturing the pavement, driving down beneath the surface, finally coming to a stop in the sewers.

Moonlight poured through the man-shaped rupture above him, and all Jethro could think was:
I should be dead
. Standing up, he felt no pain, no joints dislodged, no bones cracked, not even a single bruise.

He looked at his hands, still crackling with electricity. “Blessed Mother Tara, save me….” he whispered. The radioactive salts… it could only be them. He could fly, heal the injured and now survive, unharmed, five story falls. He should be ecstatic, enraptured by the very promise of such unbelievable power, but all he could feel was unrelenting terror, as if he had committed some terrible sin. To wield such power was not only unnatural—it was
wrong
.

You must use it now, a voice said from the darkness. The time will come to atone, Tulku, but now is not the time. The number is three, and it will define you for all that is to come.

Jethro spun around, searching for the source of the voice. “Who’s there!?” His echo was the only reply. He knew that voice, but from where?

But before Jethro could investigate any further, the ceiling above the sewer collapsed, raining concrete and metal down upon him. Jethro pressed himself against the wall, just beyond the torrent of debris. Before the dust could clear, the creature’s arm shot forward, its hand wrapping around the Green Lama’s neck.