Ron Goulart Vampirella 06 Snakegod

/*<![CDATA[*/  /*]]>*/ Goulart, Ron - Vampirella 06 - Snakegod (v1.0) (html).html Scanned by Highroller. Proofed by Highroller. Shortly after the manned space flight to the moon, a second flight was launched by NASA. Unlike her sister ship, the second craft's launch was shrouded in secrecy, and today is denied by the authorities. Officially, the ill-fated excursion never happened. Some years earlier, an obscure scientist had mathematically determined the existence of a planet half a billion miles from Earth. Computers verified the findings. In the name of science, the planet must be reached and explored. The Starcraft reached its goal. Drakulon was there�"a planet of rare and alien beauty. Where burnished bronze spires rose majestically in light of ancient twin moons. Where bizarrely twisted trees bordered rivers of flowing crimson. Blood rivers that nourished a gentle race who bent to drink. Yet the Earthship came at the sundown of a once-lovely dream. Drakulon was dying�"its scarlet waters drying and powdering to dust. The crew members died on the doomed Drakulon, but their spacecraft returned to Earth. When it crashed in a remote New England forest, it was empty save for a single stowaway traveler. A girl who had flown on alien wings to survive, the last of the Drakulon race. And she would survive. She had found new rivers of life-giving blood coursing through the veins of her adopted planet's inhabitants. Earth people would call her a vampire, sharpen their stakes and mark her to die. But she would live. She was the huntress from the stars. She was VAMPIRELLA. Vampirella #6 Snakegod by Ron Goulart Chapter 1 It sat in the shop window staring out at them. A squat stone figure not quite a foot high, crouching next to a tray of jade rings. The thickset body was human, the head that of a cobra. The ruby eyes seemed to glow, cutting through the dusty shadows of the curio shop window. Although the afternoon was hot and steamy, the lovely dark-haired girl shivered. She rubbed slender fingers along the smooth bare flesh of her arm. "That thing reminds me of something," she said, "something unpleasant." "Something in the past?" inquired the sharp-featured, gray-haired man beside her. "Or maybe," answered Vampirella, "something in the future." Pendragon let out a sigh. "If you're having a premonition, dear child, I hope it concerns some event in the distant future." She shook her head, her long, dark hair flickering. "I'm not sure, I only know that little fellow means trouble." "I do recollect," said the magician, "encountering a flock of similar creatures under a Murphy bed in a Kansas City hotel room once. A speedy application of a couple of slugs of the old proverbial and the little bounders vanished." Vampirella said, "Well, let's continue our tour of Hangkor's charming capital city," but she lingered a minute more at the narrow, smeared shop window, eyes on the snakeman. "I have been led to believe," said Pendragon as he took her arm, "that the cocktail lounge at the Hotel Tamago offers an excellent view of Hangkor's mountains and jungles. Might I suggest we adjourn to�"" "You have been admiring Naga, I see," a small twisted man, not more than five feet high, said from the doorway of the curio shop. Though he had Oriental features, his skin was a pale blue-white. He wore a very wrinkled white suit. "Won't you, please, enter my place of business?" "Who," asked Pendragon, "might Naga be?" "Allow me first to introduce myself. I am Marston Lee." With considerable difficulty he came out into the hazy sunlight. He held out his right hand, which lacked two fingers. "Pleased to make your acquaintance." Pendragon shook hands. "I am the Great Pendragon, and this is my charming associate, Vampirella." "Oh, so?" Head cocked to the left, he stared up at the dark-haired girl. "I have heard of you. It is said your magical show at the Club Renard is most impressive." Vampirella only nodded at the crippled shopkeeper. Grimacing, his right foot dragging on the cobbled street, he moved to his shop window. "Perhaps you have never heard of Naga." He smiled at the squat stone idol sitting there amid the bric-a-brac. "Here in Hangkor he is very well known, though there are many who would like to pretend Naga never ruled this country." "Chap was a king, was he?" asked the magician. "Better than that," said Lee, "he was a god." "Ah," said Pendragon. "I wonder how a king would wear a crown on a head like that." The shopkeeper chuckled. "Even now, as you may know, a goodly portion of our country consists of jungle, thick and rarely explored jungle. I believe, as do many students of such matters, that there were once vast cities where the jungles now flourish. The ruins of a few of these ancient cities have been found, but not all. It was in one such city, a city of towers and terraces, where Naga held sway long centuries ago. You notice he is depicted as part man and part cobra. Those who worshiped him, at least those chosen ones who had made sufficient sacrifices, are said to have gained a unique ability�"a gift from Naga, the power to change into snakes themselves. Yes, huge cobras who could slither through the night-dark jungles seeking�"" "This has got to be one of the most colorful sales pitches I've ever heard," interrupted Vampirella. "I don't think, though, we want to buy any snakegods today." Slowly, painfully, Lee turned to face the supple girl. "You attempt to joke about Naga," he told her, "but you are, I sense, afraid of him. And well you might be." He began his shuffling walk back into his dark and dusty shop. "Wait, old fellow, do you know some�"" "No, let him go." Vampirella stepped in front of the magician, preventing him from following the crippled shopkeeper. "Dear girl, this vendor of arcane objects indicates he might have some important information about this Naga. I thought perhaps�"" "We'll find out about Naga soon enough," said Vampirella. "That's impossible." Will Bray narrowed his eyes and leaned on the veranda railing to stare into the nearby jungle. The last of the daylight was evaporating away; darkness was filling in all the white spaces between the trees and vines and tangles of brush. Bray, alone on the veranda of the big jungle-edge house, thought he'd seen someone off there in the jungle. "Can't be, no matter what Verna believes," he said to himself. Even so�Śhe began descending the steps, brushing at the tiny hovering insects that always appeared along with the darkness. Bray had the notion he'd seen Duncan McMorrow standing there in the jungle, straight and tall among the gnarled trees. Duncan McMorrow looking just as he'd looked over two years ago when he'd disappeared. There'd been a war then, a civil war they were calling it, here in Hangkor. McMorrow had vanished in these damn jungles. "Guerrillas got him," Bray thought to himself while making his way along the path. "They weren't the kind to hold prisoners long, not even famous war-correspondent prisoners." Duncan McMorrow was long dead. By now he was nothing but a tumble of bones out there someplace. And yet�ŚBray was nearly certain he'd seen him�Śstanding off in the fading light, watching the big house with that quirky smile on his lips. Verna believed McMorrow was alive. That was romance stuff, what she liked to think was lover's intuition. McMorrow was dead, and this whole business of leasing this planter's house on the jungle edge was foolishness. And now flying off to Europe to hire some kind of special investigators, another sample of the overzealous life-style Verna went in for. "Let him stay dead, forget him." The path from the house blended with an overgrown trail. Bray halted, looking around him. The jungle loomed ahead, anticipating, waiting to close around him. "If you'd really seen Duncan, he'd have waved�Ścalled to you, given some sign," Bray reminded himself. "Would he? If he is alive, could be he's crazy as a coot now. There were plenty of stories like that about what exposure in the jungle does�"you've written a few yourself, my boy." All right, okay, it was worth checking out. Bray unclipped the pocket flashlight he carried in the breast pocket of his crisp, tan brush jacket. He clicked it on and took a few tentative steps into the jungle. The thin slice of light scarcely penetrated the thick blackness. Maybe calling him would help, though it was silly. "Duncan!" Bray shouted. "Hey, Duncan McMorrow!" A rustling over there to the right. "It'll be incredible if I do find him. Right here and now�"" Bray never got to say anything else. The giant snake arrowed down from the blackness directly above him. The fangs pronged into his throat and, in very little time, he was dead. Chapter 2 "He's alive." In the bright Mediterranean sun the young woman's blond hair glowed and flashed. She sat very straight in the terrace chair, head turned toward Adam Van Helsing, wraparound dark glasses masking the upper half of her face. "I suppose that's possible," said Adam. He was a broad-shouldered, dark-haired man in his late twenties. Verna Flairton told him, "I'm certain of it." Adam picked up his glass from the round white table which separated them. "I remember reading some pieces by Duncan McMorrow, during the late war in Hangkor," he said. "A good writer�Śit'd be a good thing if he turned up alive. Still, Miss Flairton, I don't quite see how we can help you." From the handbag which hung from the back of her chair the girl took a thick sheet of folded paper. "If you decide not to work for me, Adam, I'd appreciate your forgetting that you ever saw this." Taking the paper and opening it, Adam said, "A map of a stretch of jungle." "More than that. Look there in the north corner." "Indications that there's some sort of city here, a place called Yilan. Can't say I've ever heard of it." Verna leaned toward him. "Have you heard of Naga?" "A snakegod," answered Adam, "worshiped centuries ago in some Far East countries." "Maybe not so long ago, Adam." He spread the map on the table top. In the warm midday breeze it fluttered gently. "I assume this ties in with the missing Duncan McMorrow. Tell me how." "I bought this map, never mind for how much, from a man in Hangkor two months ago. He was with the anti-government guerrillas who operated in that particular sector of the jungle, only considerably to the south. Nobody will go near the Yilan area." "Those guerrillas weren't an especially superstitious bunch." "They stayed away from Yilan," Verna said. "Everyone does, which is one reason it's never been located by anyone from the West." "Have you some reason for thinking McMorrow might be there?" "The guerrilla believes that a man, a Westerner who sounds very much like Duncan, was captured by the people who live in Yilan." Adam leaned back frowning up at the clear blue sky. "He believes�Śmeaning he has no firsthand knowledge?" "The information came from a close friend of his, someone who was killed in the last weeks of fighting." "Okay," said Adam, "and your hearsay witness also believes this lost city is inhabited." "A great many people believe that." "A great many people still believe the world is flat," said Adam, "but that doesn't make it so." The girl's hands gripped the table edge. "I am absolutely certain Duncan is alive. It's not fashionable nowadays to put any faith in feminine intuition, yet I do, Adam. I feel Duncan is alive. Alive and in the jungles of Hangkor still." She reached out and poked at the map. "There! Somewhere near Yilan." "Well, we do believe in hunches in my family," said Adam. "Now tell me exactly why my father and I are wanted. We've made our reputation, such as it is, as occult investigators. We're ghost-breakers, slayers of demons. Trekking into the wilderness is not one of our specialties. You'd be better off hiring�"" "I've already hired an archaeologist and a jungle guide, Adam," the girl told him. "They'll cope with the concrete, everyday problems we come up against." She touched the map again, more lightly, drawing a lazy circle around the lost city. "They say the snake-god Naga is still powerful there. That's something I want you to cope with. You and your father, if he's up to it." "I'm not sure Dad is in shape for a safari into the jungles of Hangkor." "I most certainly am!" The blind old man appeared on the sun-bright terrace of their hotel room. His skin looked glaringly pale, and the glasses which hid his unseeing eyes glistened black. "Miss Flairton, my father." "I've read your books," the blond girl said. Van Helsing walked straight to the table and took the one empty chair. "I've used many of the products manufactured by your illustrious family's company, Miss Flairton." "I don't have much to do with the family business," Verna said. "Although the family money is paying for my search for Duncan McMorrow. I know he's�"" "He's alive," said the blind man. "However�Ś" He let the rest of the sentence die. Verna didn't notice. She put her hand over the old man's. "You sound so certain. Why?" "Since I lost my sight, I have developed certain other abilities," explained Van Helsing. "I see in different ways now. Yes, Duncan McMorrow is alive." "And in the jungles of Hangkor?" "Yes." "Will you help me find him?" Van Helsing said, "I think we had better." Excitedly, Verna hugged the old man. "Oh, thank you." She pressed her blond head against his chest, missing the look of deep sadness which spread across his gaunt face. Chapter 3 "What do you think killed Bray?" "A snake." "I know what the newspaper accounts claimed, but do you�"" "A snake, a plain ordinary poisonous snake." "I've heard rumors about�"" "Ignore them," advised Dr. Lavendar. "I've been, as you know, on several expeditions here in Hangkor. The locals, as their conduct in the recent war proved, are not the brightest people on the face of the earth. They believe in many things which, quite simply, aren't true." Emanuel Gove tapped his fingers nervously on the white tablecloth. He watched the other patrons in the main dining room of the Club Renard, a large lofty room dimly lit by dangling globes of pale orange light. "Snakes are bad enough," he said, "but to run into some kind of snake men out there in the jungle�Ś" He rubbed a hand across his narrow chest. Gove was a small, dark man of thirty-five, continually squinting. Dr. Lavendar was big, wide in the shoulders and chest, and bearded. "People don't change into snakes, Gove, any more than they change into wolves or bats. You were recommended to me as being a good man to have along on an expedition, capable of handling the bearers." "I know my way around," Gove said. "I know the jungles of Hangkor. It's just that�Śwell, I don't want to get into anything strange." "What's strange about money?" "If there is a lost city of Yilan and if some long-forgotten king did bury a fortune in gold there, why, that's splendid." Gove, squinting, took another look around the nightclub. "This particular lost city was supposedly a place where they were extremely fond of snakes. Snake-worshipers the inhabitants were." "Snake worship was not an uncommon religion in Hangkor in times past," said the big archaeologist. "It's not so much the long ago which bothers me, doctor. It's the now," said Gove. "Looting an old ruined temple is one thing, but walking in where a flock of snake-worshipers are still holding services is something else again." "Yilan has been inhabited by nothing more formidable than moss and butterflies for centuries," said Dr. Lavendar. "Local people are saying Bray was killed by a snake man. Maybe the snake-worshipers know we're planning to�"" "This isn't Tutankhamen's tomb we're opening, Gove. There's no curse hanging over Yilan," said Lavendar. "Verna Flairton chose to rent a house in a rather wild sector of Hangkor. Even when the plantations in that area were flourishing, in the years before the most recent war, it wasn't very civilized country. More than one planter and a good many workers were done in by snakes. Snakes are an occupational hazard on those rubber plantations. Why, at this very place Verna's renting, the old Heatherstone plantation, there was a�"" "I'm worried about what's going to happen once we're in the jungle," said Gove. "Even before Bray was killed, I was having a difficult time hiring men to act as bearers for us." "Offer a little more in the way of pay. Verna's not concerned about how much we spend." Gove was watching the crowd again. "That's because she thinks we're going out to find her long-lost love." The doctor laughed. "We may, we may," he said. "No telling whom we're likely to bump into." The lights grew even dimmer. From an overhead speaker floated the announcement, "And now, patrons of Club Renard, we take pleasure in presenting one of the most remarkable acts ever to appear in Southeast Asia. Fresh from a triumphant series of performances on the Riviera�ŚThe Master and Mistress of Magic�ŚThe Great Pendragon and Vampirella!" "I hear she's quite attractive," said Gove. Blue smoke spewed straight up in a swirling column, climbing from the center of the circular stage through dimness to the ceiling of the club. After a few seconds, and a chattering drum roll, the smoke cleared, and sharp-edged Pendragon stood on the stage facing the Club Renard patrons. He bowed, spreading wide his scarlet-lined black cloak. "Ladies and gentlemen (and assorted riffraff), it is an honor indeed to appear before such an international and sophisticated audience (of corrupt politicians and war profiteers)," he said in his usual public style of direct address and muttered aside. "Up until this moment, you may have thought (should your pea-brains be capable of thought) you had witnessed magic. However, I, the Great Pendragon, am here to tell you that all other mystical and magical feats pale beside those you are about�"" "For Miss Vampirella, please, sir." A smiling Asian in a buff-colored suit ran up out of the darkness beyond the stage with an enormous bouquet of yellow flowers. "Compliments of Prince Saifu." With an impressive sneer, Pendragon accepted the floral tribute. "One more of these princely intrusions and the fabled curse of the Pendragons may fall on�ŚThank you so much, my good man." He pointed the toe of one opera slipper at the royal messenger. "Begone, dull care." "Very good, thank you." After a second's hesitation Pendragon said, "The beauty of my associate, Vampirella, is such, dear people, that rulers of the world's most wealth-laden kingdoms have elbowed each other aside in order to fling gems, bijous, and finery at her exquisite feet. We'll set these aside until after the show." He tossed the yellow bouquet up over his head, and the darkness seemed to swallow it. "Now, without further delay or badinage, allow me to introduce Vampirella." Another plume of smoke and Vampirella was standing beside him, clad only in her scanty costume of taut scarlet silk, breasts upthrust, hands on hips, faint smile on her full lips. "Good news," she whispered to the magician while the audience was applauding her advent. "For a change. What, pray tell?" "Just got a telegram from Adam," said the lithe, dark-haired girl. "He's coming to Hangkor. He'll be here in the capital day after tomorrow." "Not for a quiet vacation, I'll wager." "No, he's investigating something, working on a case." "That, dear child," said Pendragon, "may not be good news at all." Chapter 4 The larger of the two dark-suited Asians, smiling, suggested, "Not wise to go further, sir." "Oh, so?" Adam Van Helsing halted. The two wide men blocked the backstage corridor. "Go away now, be good idea." "On my way to see Vampirella," he told the pair. "Which is a little difficult with the two of you between me and the door to her dressing room." "Official business," the larger man, still smiling, informed him. "You police?" "From the palace, rather. Please come back some other time." Adam nodded, half turning, "I suppose that would�Ś" Then he whirled and dived straight at the door the two men were guarding. He was swift enough to fling the door open before either of them could get a weapon. Vampirella, wearing a scarlet dressing gown, was seated at her makeup table. Pendragon slouched in a wicker chair nearby. A small saffron-colored man in a creamy-white suit sat in the room's only other chair. He was the first one to speak. "A private meeting is being conducted in this�"" "Adam!" Vampirella was on her feet. The dressing gown fell open as she moved to put her arms around him. The saffron-colored man, averting his eyes from her bare breasts, coughed into his hand. "Got here about a half day earlier than expected," Adam explained. "I'm so glad." "Ahum," said Pendragon as he reached for his handy glass of Scotch. "I don't suppose you've met Mr. Nim, Adam? He is, as I understood it, the social secretary for Prince Saifu, ruler of this Eastern paradise." "Being on official business now," said Nim, "I would, politely, suggest this young gentleman leave us." "It seems," said Vampirella while slipping her arm around Adam's waist, "the prince has sent the polite Mr. Nim to invite me to a late supper at the palace." "An invitation preceded by a surfeit of flowers," remarked the magician. "Official business is not," Nim, cordially, complained, "going ahead as efficiently as�"" "Do you want to sup with the prince?" Adam asked of the girl. "Not especially, no," Vampirella replied. "We were in the midst of conveying that notion to Mr. Nim when you showed up." Adam faced the royal representative. "Vampirella will be dining with me tonight, Mr. Nim," he said evenly. "Please explain that to the prince." "You do not seem to understand that when the�"" "You don't seem to understand it's time for you to depart." Adam eased closer to him. "Yes, I see," said Nim. "And your name is?" "Adam Van Helsing," Adam told him. Nim nodded. "Adam Van Helsing. I will remember." He smiled, politely, at them all and left the dressing room. "I fear," observed Pendragon with a sigh, "we have fallen into disfavor with the ruling powers." "Makes no difference," said Vampirella. "Perhaps," said the magician. "So he's with you?" "Yeah, I thought you knew that." Vampirella shook her head. "Your telegram didn't mention your father." "Dad felt he was in adequate shape to come to Hangkor. So I didn't try to talk him out of it." They were sitting at a small table in the cocktail lounge of the Hotel Tamago, near one of the wide-view windows and overlooking the lights of the city below. "I don't think you and your father are ever going to�"" "Look, you know Dad doesn't feel the way he used to about you." "You mean he's not as eager to drive a stake through my heart?" "You have to realize�"" "I realize your father still believes I'm a vampire. And, in a way, he's right. There's no reason for him ever to give up the idea the best place for me is a�"" "Hey, wait now." He put a hand over hers. "This isn't exactly my idea of romantic conversation. After all, I came all the way from the Riviera to see you," said Adam. "In the nick of time, too. Another day, and Prince Saifu would have swept you off your feet." "Sure, with flowers, probably. I'd be up to my elbows with flowers if Pendragon hadn't thought of sending them on to the local hospitals." The dark-haired girl relaxed slightly in her chair. "Okay, we won't discuss the cordial feelings which exist between your father and me. Tell me about your reasons for coming to Hangkor." "Besides wanting to gaze upon your fair face, you mean?" Vampirella smiled. "You've been seeing too much of Pendragon," she said. "You're starting to be as flowery as he is." "I tell you I'm happy to see you, and you criticize my speech. No gratitude!" said Adam. "Anyway, we were hired by a girl named Verna Flairton. Heard of her?" "Very rich, isn't she?" "Flairton Industries manufacture every kind of product you can think of," Adam said. "Verna has leased a place�"it's the house that once belonged to one of the big Hangkor plantation owners. About a hundred miles south of here, in much wilder country. Verna�"intends�"" "I've heard of that house," interrupted Vampirella. "Yes, there was a story in the English language newspaper a day or so ago. A man was killed there." Adam straightened. "At Verna Flairton's? Who was he?" "The name was�Śyes, Will Bray." "Bray?" Adam frowned. "He's the correspondent who was supposed to go along on this expedition of Verna's. How was he killed?" "By a snake," said Vampirella, watching his face. The frown deepened. "A snake, huh? I wonder�"" "Have you heard the name Naga before?" "Sure, Naga was the snakegod, worshiped pretty strongly in Hangkor centuries ago," answered Adam. "In fact, that's the reason Verna hired us. See, she's�Śbut, wait now, how'd you hear about Naga?" "I saw a statue representing Naga in a shop window while Pendragon and I were out walking the other day," she said. "Adam, I got a very strong feeling while looking at that ugly little piece of stone. Naga is going to bring trouble to all of us." "Well, Verna thinks so, too," Adam said. "Which is�"" "Mr. Adam Van Helsing?" A large Asian in a white suit had stopped beside their table. Two other men stood a few feet to his rear. "Yeah, that's me." The large man smiled. From an inner pocket of his white coat he produced a flat wallet and flipped it open. "I am Inspector Apaato of the Municipal Security Police. We would like to talk with you, Mr. Van Helsing." "Okay, pull up a chair." Apaato's smiled widened. "Not here, sir, but, rather, at Municipal Security Police headquarters." Adam said, "I happen to be occupied now. Suppose I drop in on you first thing in the�"" "Now, Mr. Van Helsing." Apaato's face came close to Adam's. "Will you, please, be so kind as to accompany me?" "This is because of Prince Saifu, isn't it?" said Vampirella. "He's trying to get back at us because I find the idea of dining with him repulsive. You go tell that fat toad of a�"" "Please, Miss Vampirella, do not make any seditious remarks in public," cautioned the amiable police inspector. Adam pushed his chair back. "It's okay, Vampirella. I'll go and talk," he said. "Case I don't contact you in a couple of hours, let my dad know. We're staying at the Hotel Ciseaux. Might also drop a word to the American Embassy." He stood up. "Oh, I am sure," said Inspector Apaato, "there will be no need to bring in your most respected ambassador. Good evening, then, Miss Vampirella." He and his two associates escorted Adam, as unobtrusively as circumstances allowed, out of the lounge. "Miss Vampirella?" Saffron-colored Nim appeared beside her. "Perhaps you are free to join Prince Saifu for supper?" "I'd rather dine alone," she said, but she found her appetite had departed with Adam. Chapter 5 Dr. Lavendar yawned. "You are not used to late hours, doctor?" asked Prince Saifu. "Not accustomed to being dragged out of my bed by a crew of royal goons," replied the big archaeologist. The prince laughed. "Such a nice sense of humor you have, doctor." He was a fat man; his flesh jiggled when he was amused. "My staff does not use force, only nice, friendly persuasion." Lavendar hunched deeper into the antique chair, scowling across the royal parlor at the fat ruler of Hangkor. "Why did your goons so nicely persuade me to call on you after midnight, prince?" Laughing and jiggling, Prince Saifu said, "I had originally intended to have a late supper with a stunning young lady. However, she was, at the last moment, not feeling well. Therefore, I turned to my second very important interest in life." He scratched at his chins with his bejeweled right hand. "I am a much enthusiastic archaeology buff, doctor." "News to me," grunted Lavendar. "The press, your Western press, considerably maligned my character during our recent civil war," Saifu said. "Cruel I am not, nor stupid. I am a learned man, doctor, especially fascinated by your own field." "Well, that's highly interesting, prince, though hardly worth staying up this late for." "That is not all I wish to say to you, my impatient professor." Prince Saifu leaned back in his huge wicker chair, causing it to creak and groan. "You, I hear tell, intend to search for the lost city of Yilan." Lavendar's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I'll be leaving in a few days," he said. "We have all the proper permits and papers." "Surely you do, a man so clever." With his many-ringed left hand the prince stroked at an earlobe. "I am very greatly interested in the past history of my loved country, doctor, in the great cities which once towered above the jungles." "We may not find anything. Quite often an expedition such as this�"" "Yet you may indeed find Yilan," said the prince, "Ah, to be among the first to stare upon such a place! To see what no human eyes have seen for untold centuries. That would be a true experience." Dr. Lavendar replied with only a grunt. "So that is why I have summoned you," continued Saifu. "I'm afraid I still don't see�"" "To invite myself along." Laughing, Prince Saifu clapped his glittering hands together. "I will come on your dangerous expedition with you, doctor." "Surely the leader of a state can't risk�"" "Yes, yes, I enjoy dangers. I am, as many enemies learned too late, a very brave man, not cowardly. I will face up to all hazards." Dr. Lavendar was clutching at the arms of his chair. "I really must advise you against this whim of yours, Prince Saifu," he said. "There's no telling what we may find out there in the jungle." "Yet you may indeed find Yilan," said the prince, "exactly why I wish to join you." The sandy-haired young man sat up in bed. "Any assassination attempt on an assistant to the United States Ambass�"" "I didn't come to kill you," Vampirella told him. She stood in a wide slant of moonlight which came down through the skylight of the bedroom�"hands on hips, wearing only her brief scarlet costume, breasts heaving. "How'd you," mumbled the embassy man as he disentangled himself from his sheets and got fully awake, "get in here, anyway?" He kept the windows and door locked nights, opening the small skylight a few inches for air. "The ambassador, they told me when I called, is on vacation, and Mr. Willis has retired for the evening," said Vampirella. "I can't wait until morning, Mr. Willis." Perry Willis swung his legs over the edge of the bed, glad he slept in pajamas. "You couldn't have come down through that little skylight." "Not in my present form," she said. "I want to get a friend of mine released from the Metropolitan Security Police." Willis blinked and scratched his head. "If your friend's been smuggling narcotics or�"" "He was dragged off by an Inspector Apaato while we were having cocktails," said the angry girl. Glancing once more at the small skylight, Willis said, "Possibly there are political overtones in the situation which�"" "Prince Saifu is interested in me," said Vampirella, "and I've been ignoring him. That's why he had Adam Van Helsing picked up." "Adam Van Helsing?" Willis hopped out of bed and grabbed up a robe from the back of a chair. "I had a memo concerning him only yesterday. He's working for Verna Flairton. We don't want anything to happen to him." "That's why you have to lean on the police. They've been holding him for over three hours." "This would be young Van Helsing? There're two of them, father and son, as I recall." "This is the son, Adam, yes. Can you contact someone at the police building?" "What's the old man say about the�"" "I don't know. I haven't contacted him." Willis picked up his bedside phone. "I'll call Kudamono downtown," he said while dialing. "He's the night shift man on M.S.P. I can usually�ŚYes, hello, is Lieutenant Kudamono there, this is Perry Willis�ŚI should know your name, miss." "It's Vampirella." "That's an�ŚHello, Kudamono? This is Perry. Fine, yourself? Yes, we'll have to. You reserve a court one of these days and give me�ŚYes, I'm trying to find out about an American named Adam Van Helsing. He's�ŚOh, really? When? I see. Yes, so am I. Okay, good night." Vampirella said, "Well?" "Adam Van Helsing was released twenty minutes ago," said the embassy man. "Some of Miss Flairton's people arranged it. All a misunderstanding, the police claim now. The Flairton name still has a lot of clout in Hangkor." "So it seems. Well, thank you, Mr. Willis." Long bare legs flashing in the moonlight, she crossed to the bedroom door, unbolted it, and stepped out into the dark hallway. "Say, miss�ŚHow did you get in here exactly?" Willis called. There was no answer. Chapter 6 Black slime seeped down the stone walls of the corridor. Greenish-yellow lights flickered beyond the arched doorways which cut into the endless, twisting underground passageway. It was cold, chillingly cold, and Vampirella hugged herself as she made her way along the dark, slimy corridor. There were people talking in the chilly rooms she passed, but Vampirella couldn't discern exactly what they were saying. Up above her, all at once, the thick slime congealed into a long slithering shape. A giant snake uncoiled directly in front of her. Then it began to wrap itself around her body ringing her bare waist, quivering up between her naked breasts, winding itself around her thighs, her ankles. The slime which clung to the enormous serpent rubbed and smeared her smooth flesh. Then the snake lifted her off the stone floor, carrying her upward in its tight-gripping coils. The stone of the ceiling gave way as she and the snake rose, rose up into a vast temple. There, chained to the altar, was Adam. Standing over him wielding a black knife was�" "Adam! Adam!" Vampirella cried out. The pillars of the temple collapsed; the altar dissolved. The girl blinked her eyes. Morning sunlight was slicing across her bed. Perspiration dotted her forehead and the cleft between her breasts. Sitting up, Vampirella wiped at her bare, glistening body with one of the twisted bedsheets. A knock sounded on the door that connected her room to the next one. "Child, does all go well?" Vampirella gulped in a deep breath. "Only a dream," she called, "just a bad dream." She located a short, silken robe, slipped into it, and went to the door. "Sorry if I woke you, Pendragon." When the connecting door was opened, the magician stood waiting in a white suit and peppermint-striped shirt. "I've been up for hours, my sweet," he informed her. "Trying on my new Indochinese wardrobe and having enough hair of the dog to make a wig for a Saint Bernard. You certain you are in tip-top shape?" "All things considered, yes." She invited him in with a nod and a gesture. "The last time I saw fabric like that, there was a hundred pounds of flour in it." "Nay, child, this is the finest cloth available, my tailor, a chap named Ho Chi MacGregor, assures me." Pendragon pirouetted for her. "He's rumored to be the best tailor this side of Hong Kong." "I admit you're too skinny to be a sack of flour." Vampirella eased into a wicker chair and crossed her long, bare legs. "Had a bad trip over in the land of nod, eh?" The magician positioned himself in front of a wall mirror and worked at adjusting his candy-striped display handkerchief. "I hope it's only a dream," the girl replied, "and not a preview of coming attractions. It was about Adam." "So I gathered from the way you were screaming his name." "And snakes," added Vampirella. "Well, no need to think about it." Pendragon gave the handkerchief a final minute tug. "Were I you, child, I'd worry rather about this tremendously wealthy wench who sprang Adam from the local lockup last night." "Verna Flairton?" said Vampirella, lip curling very slightly. "She happens to have hired Adam, and his father. I told you about that. It's natural of her, once she heard he was in some kind of trouble, to pull strings." "How exactly did this Flairton heiress learn Adam was in the pokey?" "Adam told me, when he phoned last night, that the girl has informants all over Hangkor." Pendragon made a few magical passes in the air, causing a fifth of Scotch to appear in his right hand. Another few gestures produced a glass. Pouring himself a hefty shot, he said, "Would you care to cut our engagement at the Club Renard short? Frankly, all those dratted flowers in the middle of the act are�"" "No, I'm not afraid of Prince Saifu." "Our chubby monarch may play more tricks on Adam." "I doubt it. He's as much aware of the Flairton money invested in his country as anyone else," Vampirella said. "And Adam will be leaving tomorrow for her plantation house in the south." "Going trekking in the mysterious jungles, is he?" Pendragon sipped at his magic Scotch. "Well, since he's not going to be in town, we could just as well fold our tents and�"" "No," said Vampirella, "I want to stay in Hangkor." "Surely it's not because you believe the old show business saw about the show having to go on, no matter what?" "I believe," answered Vampirella, "Adam may need my help very soon." "Sad, sad," sighed Prince Saifu, "most very sad." Saffron-hued Nim nodded sympathetically. "It was the esteemed Hang Dynasty aphorist Len Zer said, 'A heavy heart is like a wagonload of rotting produce.' " The fat monarch blinked and shifted to a new position on his ivory throne. "What did he mean by that?" "Well," offered Nim, "I suppose Len Zer felt that when one is making no headway with the woman one's heart is taken with that the pain is somehow akin to�"" "These days many of my subjects would be happy to have a wagon full of any kind of vegetables or grain," said the prince. "Those secret gases our Western advisers tried out in the north have had the unfortunate side effect of killing most of the crops. Besides which, my passion for the exquisite Vampirella is hardly comparable to a fondness for moldering vegetables." "Perhaps the wisdom of Len Zer is no longer pertinent to the age," suggested Nim. "What I sought to convey, oh light of the East, was my sadness that you must journey into the dangerous regions of our land so soon after meeting�"" "Those jungles are nowhere near as dangerous as the ones to the north," said Prince Saifu. "I will be traveling, recall, with some of my very most trusted guards. True I will miss the lustful pursuit of the marvelously constructed Vampirella�Ś" He made an it-can't-be-helped gesture with his much-jeweled hands. "Yet there will be ample compensation." "If the rumors be true." "They are true," the prince assured him. "I know of Dr. Lavendar's reputation. Not his official Western one, but the reputation based on what he's really done in Hangkor. A man who has devoted decades to successfully looting and robbing the ancient shrines and temples of our country does not venture into the jungle merely for intellectual reasons." The prince leaned forward on his throne. "There is a treasure in that jungle, a wealth of gold and precious stones. I wish to be with the respected Dr. Lavendar when he finds that treasure trove." Nim asked, "And then?" Prince Saifu laughed. Chapter 7 "That's a lot of crap." Adam grinned at the big, sunburned man. "May be," he said. "We'll find out." "Nothing to find out, buddy," said Jock Osborne. "You and the old boy are getting a fat fee off Verna for feeding her a line of crap." He took a few stomping steps across the veranda and jabbed a thick forefinger toward Adam's chest. "I know the Hangkor jungles, both as a guide and as a mercenary trooper. There's no lost city out where Verna wants to go, and there's no damn cult of snake-lovers, either." Still grinning, Adam grasped the guide's wrist. "We seem to have different opinions," he said evenly. "Since we're both going on this expedition of Verna's, I think we ought to establish a couple of things right now." He snapped his hand, flipping Osborne away from him. The sunburned man danced sideways across the porch plankings and slammed into the side of the house. "Oof," he said. "First thing, don't poke or prod me," Adam told him. "Second, don't call me buddy." "Listen, you wiseass punk, I'll�"" "Jock!" said Verna as she emerged from the house "I warned you about getting along with everyone." "Christ, Verna," he complained, rubbing at his shoulder. "You got a bunch of college faggots for this trek, and bearers who look like they broke out of one of the TB wards at�"" "I can hire a new guide, too." "Okay, okay," said Jock. "Sorry I gave you a rough time, Van Helsing." He went down the veranda steps and strode along the path which led to the outbuildings. The girl said, "I'm sorry if�Ś" "We're used to skeptics," Adam assured her. "In fact, my father and I are skeptical ourselves. You have to be if you're an occult detective." "It's important, I think, for everyone on an excursion to get along." Verna rested her hips against the railing. "I'm starting to worry that our little expedition isn't going to be one where everyone cooperates. Jock seems to be extremely antagonistic to you and your father and to Dr. Lavendar. When the prince gets here I�"" "I don't expect Prince Saifu and I are going to get along," said Adam, grinning again. "Even though I've never met him." "Something about an entertainer, isn't it? A woman who works in the saloons." Adam's grin faded. "Vampirella is a very special person," he said. "Prince Saifu has been making some fairly elephantine passes at her." Verna was watching his face. "I see, you're really fond of her. I mean, it's not just�"" "No, not just what Prince Saifu has in mind." "Well, he won't be able to annoy Vampirella if he's with us." "That's one consolation," admitted Adam. "But why, exactly, is he tagging along?" Verna, running a hand through her blond hair, said, "It worries me, Adam." She crossed to a wicker chair and settled into it. "The prince claims a deep interest in the antiquities of his native country, and especially in the possibility that Yilan does exist out there." "Don't remember any mention of such an interest in the news which got to us during the late war." "The prince's Western advisers had a heavy hand in every news item about Prince Saifu that got out of Hangkor," she said. "He's . . I don't know for certain�Śbut he's got some other motive for wanting to go along." "You couldn't, I suppose, have turned him down?" Laughing softly, the girl replied, "Even using the considerable Flairton influence, Adam, it wasn't easy getting all the permissions and permits to make our search. The prince, or rather this Mr. Nim, gave me some fairly broad hints that if I declined Prince Saifu's amiable offer�Śwell, my whole expedition might have considerable additional trouble with Hangkor officials and bureaus." She shook her head. "I wanted to find Duncan. So I gave in. But I wish I knew what the prince is up to." Adam came over and took a chair facing the blond girl. "I've been doing some research into the background of the snakegod religion in Hangkor," he said. "There is a legend that one of the ancient kings accumulated a sizable fortune, mostly in loot, some of it acquired by side ventures into piracy." Nodding slowly, Vema said, "Yes, I've heard those rumors, though I don't think there's much truth in them. This king is probably mythical, no more a historical person than King Arthur of Britain." "Lots of people believe in Arthur, too, real or not," said Adam. "So it's possible Prince Saifu believes both in the ancient king and, more importantly, in his treasure. More than one historian has suggested the loot is hidden somewhere in the underground chambers of Yilan." "Nonsense." Barrel-chested Dr. Lavendar had appeared on the veranda. "You can take my word for it, Mr. Van Helsing, there is no treasure hidden at Yilan." "You may believe that and I may believe that," said Adam, "but does Prince Saifu?" Chapter 8 "No flowers this evening," said Pendragon while removing his makeup. "I've grown so accustomed to Prince Saifu's floral tributes it threw my timing off when nothing interrupted our act." "The absence of flowers must indicate the absence of the prince himself." Vampirella was behind the dressing-room screen. "Meaning his royal fatness has gone off to join the expedition." "Afraid so." "Be of good cheer, my child, the prince won't have his band of secret-police thugs with him out there," said the magician. "I doubt he'll try to make much trouble for Adam." The dark girl came from behind the screen, wearing a simple black cocktail dress. "I've got nothing but bad feelings about that expedition," she said. "Prince Saifu's going along is just one more entry in the negative column." Tap! Tap! "If that's the police again, I'll tell them we don't want any." Pendragon walked to the dressing-room door and opened it. "Good evening. I trust I don't intrude?" The small crippled shopkeeper they had met a few days ago stood on the threshold, a package under his arm; "Ah, yes, our local vendor of snakegods. What brings you here?" "My name is Marston Lee, in case�"which is quite possible�"you forgot." He held out his maimed right hand. "Your name is etched on my memory, Mr. Lee," said the magician while shaking hands. "Would you care to come in?" "Yes, thank you." Teeth gritted, small body swaying, Lee limped into the room. "Good evening, Miss Vampirella." The girl nodded at him. "I realize my person is repellent to you." Lee twisted his head to look directly at her. "You must forgive�"" "It's not you, it's the things I associate with you," Vampirella told him. "Naga the snakegod and�Śworse." "I trust," said Pendragon, "you didn't come here to sell us that snakegod Kewpie we saw at your place of business." "Something more interesting, and useful." Slowly, pain pulling at his pale face, Lee unwrapped the stained white paper from the object he was carrying. "You must understand I am not a scoundrel, nor a man who imposes on foreigners. What I have here should interest you." "A book?" said Pendragon when the last of the wrappings had fallen away. Turning his whole body, with considerable effort, so that he faced the magician, Lee said, "A very unusual book. It was found in the jungles by a man who was once with the guerrillas. It is a diary, a personal journal." His twisted fingers held up the book, which had a scraped and splotched brown leather cover. Pendragon said, "I read mostly the show biz trade papers and�"" "Whose diary is it?" Vampirella asked. "It apparently," answered Lee, "belonged to a man named Duncan McMorrow." The girl said, "That's the man Verna Flairton is looking for. He vanished in the jungle two years ago." "This book tells at least part of what happened to him." Lee, sighing with the effort, moved closer to her and held out the book. Vampirella did not immediately take the book. "You want to sell it to me?" "Such was my intention." "Why not to Verna Flairton?" Lee said, "She is some distance from here now. I would not trust such a rare item to our woefully slipshod postal system. Nor would a journey to her plantation house be one I could undertake without great discomfort." "There's Prince Saifu," said Vampirella. "He'd be interested, since he's joining the expedition." "Not in hope of finding Duncan McMorrow." "What do you mean?" inquired Pendragon. "Our respected ruler hopes to find other things," said Lee. "And, besides, I have a firm policy of not dealing with Saifu. The reason I am what you now see is�Śbut that has no place in a business discussion." Now Vampirella took the journal from the crippled curio dealer. She opened it and read the first few pages. "How much do you want for this book?" "One thousand dollars." "We don't have that kind of money at our command, my friend," Pendragon said. "You've no doubt heard we earn a mammoth salary here at the Renard, but the expenses�"" "A hundred dollars down will secure the book for you," said Lee. "You can pay me the rest when you are able." He took two uneven steps toward the girl. "I would like you to have the book to read and study. You, rather than the others we have mentioned." "We'll give you a hundred dollars." "A month's drinking money," muttered Pendragon, reaching inside his coat for his wallet. "I want the book," said Vampirella. "It is yours," said Lee. A hot wind rushed through the night city. It brushed at the windows of Vampirella's hotel room, humming and sighing. The girl, long legs crossed, sat in a gaudy armchair reading the journal of the missing Duncan McMorrow. Pendragon was slouched in a wicker chair, a glass of Scotch resting on one sharp knee. Now and then in the quiet of the room the melting ice cubes rattled as he brought the glass to his lips. When Vampirella finally shut the book and looked up, the magician inquired, "Authentic, do you think?" "Yes," she said, "I think so." "When was it written?" "The final entry dates back to about twenty months ago." Setting his drink on a coffee table, Pendragon arose. "Thus we have a record of what the long-lost lad was doing for several months after he supposedly vanished." "Yes," said Vampirella. "And what exactly was Duncan McMorrow doing?" The dark girl, eyes half closed, stroked the cover of the journal. "Adam will have to see this book." "How about the more immediate Great Pendragon? Do I get a squint?" "Yes, of course. You can read it." Vampirella stood up and went to a window. She seemed to be listening to the wind. "I want to leave tomorrow, to take this to Adam. You'll have to arrange that with the club." "Shouldn't be difficult to get a few days off. They think you're a favorite of Prince Saifu." "Doesn't matter what they think," said Vampirella impatiently. "I want to get this journal to Adam." "You want to get yourself to his side as well, I sense." "Yes," she said. "There may be time to help him." Chapter 9 [From Duncan McMorrow's Journal, dated two years ago.]�Śmoney. It's going to mean a hell of a lot of money. I don't think Millman has any idea, really, of how much. A stupid bastard, but there's no way of getting him out. Not yet. When we get out into the jungle something can happen to him. Yeah, something will�ŚGrinning idiot, flashing those photos of his that night at the Maji Kwa Club. Christ, anybody might have realized what Millman had photographed on his damn observation flight. At least he had enough sense to keep the pictures back, not let the prince's alleged air force see them. "This could be something, Dune," Millman said, tugging the photos out of that fancy flying jacket of his, a sloppy smile on that idiot face of his. "Might be. Let me see." "There and there. Looks like the ruins of something, something pretty big." "You branching out into archaeology?" It was something big, all right. This idiot Millman, while supposedly aiding that fat oaf Saifu, had managed to locate what has to be the lost city of Yilan. "You're supposed to be spotting guerrilla encampments so our brave allies can go in and slaughter a few of them before they trip over their own feet." "So," chuckled Millman," I didn't spot any slopes on this particular flight, Dune. What I did notice was these ruins. And�ŚI don't know�ŚI had a feeling I'd discovered something important, maybe." "Tell Prince Saifu. He'll give you one of those big gold medals he's always hanging on his Western friends." "Important ain't the right word. Something that'll turn a buck for me," amplified Millman. "A pile of ruins like that, one nobody else seems to know about�Ścould be some nice artifacts there. Stuff we can smuggle elsewhere and sell." I pretended to study his aerial photos. "Or it could be that all that's there is some old bricks and paving stones." "Well, I got some rest-and-recreation time coming up, Dune. I'm curious enough to make a try at reaching those ruins." "Going in on foot won't be like flying over." "That much I figured out for myself. But there's not much military activity over that way, no air observation at all except for the missions I've been flying." He ordered another beer. "Practically virgin land." "Okay, good luck to you, boy." "Wait now, Dune. I don't have quite the connections you do, nor your knack for inventing plausible bullshit reasons for pulling off crooked deals." "Me? I've never�"" "Sure, sure. But you know a lot of people in Hangkor. You're the only guy, for instance, ever to get an interview with Dang Sun. If I push in there with a party of bearers my head's going to end up on some slope's key chain. You, Dune, if you came along . . interested?" "I'm a correspondent, not an explorer." "You won't have any trouble selling a small lie to your news syndicate. You've been their roving reporter out here for more than a year. A little more roving on your part isn't going to ruffle their feathers. Tell them you're going to do some articles on the guerrillas in the field." "It's an idea," I said carefully. �Śas though no one has ever been through this part of the jungle. The trees, the vines, and the brush own this part of the country. We have to fight for every foot of progress, chopping and hacking. The six locals that Millman finally came up with are not the sturdiest bunch of bearers I've ever seen. Millman and I do more cutting in a day than the whole damn half-dozen of them. A couple of them I think never saw a machete before this jaunt. "We're damn lucky to get them," Millman tells me. "Next time I'm in a church I'll light a candle in thanks." "In the first place, they're all afraid of getting mowed down by the guerrillas." "No concentration of guerrillas around here; my contacts told us that, remember?" "Okay, maybe not, but there's still Naga." I laughed in his idiot face. "We don't have to worry unless their snakegod learns how to plant land mines." "Not saying I believe any of this myself, Dune. Most of these slopes do, though. You know, different strokes for different folks." "What I think is that the snakegod is the least of our worries. If these bearers don't chop a path any faster than they've been doing, the bugs are going to finish us before Naga ever gets his chance." "This city we're going toward," said Millman. "They call it Yilan." "Do they now? Catchy name." "Supposed to be sacred, sacred to Naga. I keep having to promise them all kinds of bonuses to keep them going." "Tell them we'll give them Blue Cross and a company car apiece. Just keep us moving." "This Yilan, Dune. Could it be�Śwell, haunted or something?" "No, it couldn't." He's as bad as the damned bearers. Chapter 10 Hundreds, thousands of bright yellow butterflies came fluttering and swooping through the trees. "Like a fall of gold coins," observed Dr. Lavendar as he paused to wipe perspiration from his broad forehead. "A good sign, eh, Gove?" Gove gave a lazy shrug and continued whacking at the brush and vines with his machete. "Just one more damn bunch of insects to me." "You must learn to enjoy each moment," the doctor advised. "That's the way to get something out of this life." "Butterflies aren't what I intend to get for myself." They were near the head of the party, cutting a path with the help of the bearers. The jungle rose up thick and shadow-crossed all around. "Most annoying, all these ridiculous things flapping in one's face," complained Prince Saifu, brushing at the rushing butterflies. He marched near the rear of the single file, Mr. Nim just in front of him and the two lumbering bodyguards close behind. "According to the philosopher Bok Mang, butterflies are nature's�"" "Bok Mang was an idiot person, Nim, and much the same are you." At the very rear of the trekking party Adam trudged beside his blind father. "Bad times lie ahead," said old Van Helsing in a low voice. "Who for?" "All of us, I fear." "You still feel, though, we're going to find Duncan McMorrow?" "Yes, we'll find him." "And alive?" "He'll be alive when we encounter him." "Where's he been all this time?" "McMorrow found what he was searching for," said the gaunt blind man. "But he wasn't looking for anything in these jungles. According to Verna, he was doing some stories on the anti-government forces when he disappeared." "There's a good deal, Adam, the girl doesn't know," Van Helsing said. "I almost wish she would never find out�Śbut I suppose it's better she does." For a few seconds the old man's face was in the shadow of huge interlacing branches. His face was as dark as the glasses which hid his eyes. "I've seen, in part at least, what's going to befall." "Why don't you tell Verna then?" The old man said, "Would she believe me? Admittedly she has considerable faith in our abilities, but she doesn't really want to believe anything bad will happen. Throughout history, Adam, the most successful prophets have been those who told people exactly what they wanted to hear." "Okay, maybe you're right about that, Dad. Still, you could tell me a lot more about what you're expecting." "I don't, as you know, see the future in a coherent, minute-by-minute way," said the blind man. "So far I've gotten only glimpses, disjointed flashes of impending events. I prefer to keep most of them to myself for now." "You implied McMorrow was looking for something. What was it?" "He had an objective similar to ours, I believe. He sought the lost city of Yilan." "He found it?" Van Helsing said, "McMorrow found a good deal more than he expected." They made camp in a clearing and night immediately closed in. After a simple dinner around the campfire old Van Helsing got to his feet. "Be very careful tonight, Adam," he said close to his son's ear. "I'll turn in now." Unaided he found his way to the tent which was theirs. Verna came and sat on the ground beside Adam. "Your father," she said. "Does he know something he's not telling me?" "What could he know? We've never been in this part of the world before." "That's not an answer," persisted the girl. "I'm aware of your father's psychic powers�Śand I've got a growing suspicion, Adam, he senses something�Śabout what we're going to find in this jungle." "Dad doesn't confide everything in me." Adam watched the fire and not the girl. "I do know he believes Duncan McMorrow is still alive." "So do I," she said. "So do I." "Perhaps the lovely Miss Flairton would care to join with me in the intimate privacy of my tent for an after-the-dinner cocktail?" The fat prince, sun helmet stuffed under one pudgy arm, was standing over the girl. "No, thank you, prince." "It would gladden my heart if you would but reconsider my�"" "She declines," Adam told him. Prince Saifu snapped his fingers at one of his bodyguards. "You will take this young chap elsewhere so I may continue my romantic conversation with our fair hostess, please." The big man came trotting around the fire. On his feet, swiftly, Adam said, "I wouldn't attempt this kind of stuff out here, prince. You haven't got your secret police to back you up." The big bodyguard reached for Adam. Adam dodged and sent two jabs into the man's ribs. The man opened his mouth, closed it, and fell to one knee. Adam backed off, watching him. "Striking a royal guard is a crime punishable by many terrible�"" "Prince Saifu!" cried Verna. "I don't give a damn how powerful you think you are in Hangkor. I'll drop you and your whole entourage from this trek if you ever try anything like this again. Now stop." "Remember," said Nim from the other side of the fire, "the wisdom of Lum Bar, who tells us it is better�"" "Bugger Lum Bar," said the prince, pouting, "and all the generations of his kin who came after him." His plump fingers clutched into fists. It was nearly a minute before he was able to smile at the girl. "Yes, but to be sure, my conduct has been most boorish. I must learn to bridle, as the saying has it, my passion." He snapped his fingers at the bodyguard. "Withdraw, you impetuous lout." The man, still somewhat stunned, staggered upright. He focused his eyes on the prince, then made a shaky bow and went stalking away. "We are in the wilderness," Prince Saifu said to Adam, "and of course different rules prevail." His smile broadened. "We must both remember that." When Adam went into their tent some time later, he found his father sitting up on his cot. "Had a little trouble with the prince's goon squad," he told the old man. "Yes, I know." "Is that what you were warning me about?" "No," said Van Helsing. "Something worse may happen between now and dawn." Chapter 11 "Adam!" The whispering voice cut through his sleep. He repeated in a whisper. "Adam, you have to help me." Asking no questions, he tugged on his boots. He'd gone to bed with his clothes on. Adam quietly, with a glance at his sleeping father, gathered up his pistol and machete and stepped out into the night. Verna, too, was fully dressed. "I�ŚI think I saw him," she said. "Who? You don't mean�"" "Yes, Duncan. I saw Duncan McMorrow." She pointed beyond the campfire and the drowsy bearer who was tending it. "Off there, in the jungle." Adam said, "When?" "Only minutes ago," she replied. "I was�ŚI couldn't sleep�ŚI came back outside. I was walking, pacing, at the edge of the clearing and then�ŚI saw him. The firelight barely touched him�Śhe was in the jungle there. I saw his face for an instant�ŚHe was�Śwatching�Śme." "Did you call to him?" "Once," the girl said. "When I�Śwhen I first saw him, I couldn't�Śsay anything." "You didn't try to follow him?" She shook her head. "I wanted to�Śand yet�ŚI couldn't. Maybe it was because of what happened to Will Bray�Śwhen he wandered into the jungle by himself. And there was something�Śabout Duncan's face. Will you come with me, Adam?" "I think," he told her, "you'd better stay here. I'll take a look and�"" "What the hell's going on out here?" Jock Osborne was walking toward them. "Yelling and blabbing it's not the�"" "Verna saw someone," said Adam. "Someone?" The big guide's eyebrows climbed. "I'm going to investigate," said Adam before Verna had a chance to tell Jock what she thought she'd seen. "Come along?" Slapping at his holstered pistol, Jock said, "Sure, we can nose around some. But I bet you saw a bird or�"" "Where was he exactly?" Adam asked the girl. Verna took his arm and led him away from the light of the campfire. "There, he was standing there," she said. "I�Śstill don't understand why�Śwhy he didn't�Śsay anything to me�Ścome to me." Jock pushed by them and into the black jungle. He snapped on his flashlight and sprayed the beam around. "Damned if she wasn't right," he said after a moment. "Wait here." Adam pressed the girl's hand before following the guide. "What'd you find?" Jock was squatting, back to the bole of a wide tree, and pointing his light at the mossy ground. "That's a goddamn footprint for sure, buddy," he said. Adam nodded. "Barefooted, though, so it can't be�"" "Can't be who? Does the heiress think she saw her old boyfriend moping around?" "Yeah," said Adam. Jock poked big fingers into the print of a human foot. "Well, buddy, if that guy's been living in the jungles for a couple years, it's possible he ain't got shoes any more. Foot's pretty big, very big for a local." He straightened, scanning the ground. "He went back this way. See, there's part of another print and then over here he stepped on this bush and crumpled these little flowers. So it looks like he went along through here." They followed the trail of the watcher for several minutes. All at once it stopped. Adam stared up into the tangle of branches and vines overhead. "Think he took to the trees?" "We're not looking for Tarzan, buddy," said Jock. He let the light shine into the jungle darkness above them. "Huh, take a gander there. Sure does look like somebody grabbed hold of that branch not too long ago, mashed those leaves and stuff." Adam was listening. "I hear something," he said. "Over this way." Not waiting for Jock, he headed into the blackness between the thick trees. "Probably a bird laying an egg. You're not going to�ŚHey! Jesus!" Adam spun around. "What?" Jock's light flew up into the air, spinning, and then dived to the ground. It smashed and was engulfed by dark. The big guide spoke no more, but Adam could hear him gasping and grunting. Adam nearly fell over the struggle. Jock was on the ground, wrestling with an enormous snake. The serpent had its scaly body coiled around the guide and was tightening and tightening. Jock, croaking, tried to hit at the snake, tried to tear it away from him. "Stop thrashing around," ordered Adam. He unhooked his machete from his belt, waited a second, and then swung. The blade whistled down and sank into the body of the enormous serpent. It did not relax its crushing hold on the guide. "Got to get the head." Adam chopped again, then once again. Both times the blade sank deep into the body of the huge snake. But neither time was Adam able to sever the head. He raised his arm for another swing. Suddenly the snake let go of Jock. With incredible swiftness it went slithering away into the night. Adam dropped down next to the injured man. "Easy now," he said. "I'll get you back to camp." "Nothing�Śbroken�Śyet," said Jock, fighting to suck in air. "Another minute�Śthough�ŚThanks, buddy." "Don't call me buddy," reminded Adam as he got an arm around the guide's shoulders and helped him up. "Jesus," said Jock, the pain of standing sweeping over him. "It�Śit is true." "What's true?" "That was no ordinary snake," said the guide. "That was the snakegod himself." Chapter 12 [From Duncan McMorrow's journal]�Śwatching us. All day and probably yesterday, too, although I'm only sure about today. Millman, still an idiot, won't believe me. "You've got jungle fever, sport," he says. "For Christ's sake, stop being such a goddamn idiot," I said. "Out there in the jungle, quite close to us, there are people. People who are watching us, people who are traveling with us." "Dune, you keep this up and you're going to scare these damn slope bearers," warned Millman. "They'll be asking for even more dough. Worse, they'll run out on us, leave us here." "Don't you think they're aware of what's going on? Look at them." Millman and I were at the back of the moving line of men. You could tell from the way they were cutting at the brush, the way they were glancing around. They knew as well I did. "You hoodooed them, Dune. That's all." �Śsaw her again. Very clearly this time, very distinctly. It's not a dream, not an illusion. She is real. A girl, a red-haired girl. The hair is long, flowing, the color of flame. I've never seen anything like it. Jesus, what the hell is happening to me? I'm a reporter, not some damn poet. I'm losing my objectivity, writing about girls with hair like flickering flames. But she is lovely. Long and supple, wearing only some kind of animal-skin garment. That and the gold ornaments. She has to be from Yilan. The golden bracelets, the necklace set with blood-red stones. We must be closer to the city than I thought. I've seen her, so far, only at night. Always when I'm alone, taking my turn at watch. Suddenly she'll be there, off in the jungle. Watching me with those eyes of hers, and smiling. The first time I saw her, that smile scared the hell out of me. It's a sensual smile, inviting and yet�Śit's frightening, too. As though she knows I'm attracted to her and she knows she can use that to�Śwhat? To destroy me? An ambiguous smile. That's not quite the right word. I'm losing the ability to put down words. It's my business, but now I'm having trouble finding the right ones. I get the feeling this red-haired girl wants me. Yeah, there's an invitation in that look. But an invitation to what? �Śthinking about her all the time. Only three or four days since I first saw her. I feel like I did years ago, when I was in high school and fell in love with that girl who lived in the big white house up on the hill. Too old for me, I thought then. Sure, I was seventeen and she was twenty. Christ, I don't even remember her name. I really wanted her, I know that. In a way, that was a more intense feeling than any I've had about Verna. "Where are you?" "What?" Millman shook his head. "You seem to be in a trance half the time now, Dune." "I'm worried," I told him. "Okay, maybe there are natives or whatever spying on us," he said. "I still haven't noticed anything, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. The thing is, why haven't they made a move?" "I don't know. Could be they're waiting." "I can't see why. Save everybody a lot of time if they jumped us now." I hadn't told him about the red-haired girl at all. "It doesn't have to be murder they have in mind," I said. "They may be friendly. They may be waiting until they decide if we are, too." "Sure, we're friendly," said Millman, laughing, "we're the sweetest most lovable looters and pillagers they're ever going to run into." �Śspoke to me. Last night, in the black hours before dawn. A hot night, which didn't cool off at all when the sun went. I became aware of her standing there, straight and tall. She was closer than she'd ever come. I could see the glow in her green eyes, catch the shadows which underscored her cheek bones. She'd probably been watching me for a while before I knew she was even there. That smile again. Then she raised her right arm, the gold bracelets jangling. She beckoned to me, invited me to enter the jungle. I went. And she spoke to me. Christ, yes, she spoke to me. She told me who she was. She told me what she wanted. Chapter 13 "Most foolish sentimental," said Prince Saifu. He was leaning against a tree trunk, fanning his pudgy perspiring face with his sun helmet. "I insist we continue without the incapacitated Mr. Osborne." The morning was a warm one; the sun made patches of grass and tangles of leaves glow gold. "Jock will be ready to move on in another day," said Verna. "Until then we stay here." "Perhaps I have not made myself explicit clear," the prince said. "I will not tolerate this delay." "You'll have to," Adam said. "Verna is in charge of this expedition." "Young man, you have a naughty habit of not knowing your place." Laughing, Adam walked away. Verna followed. "Adam, what do you think?" "I think I'm going to punch royalty in the nose before this jaunt is over." "No, I mean about last night." The blond girl took hold of his arm. "You still haven't told me if you think that was Duncan I saw." "Quite a similarity," said Adam, "between the attack on Jock and the one on Will Bray." "Both involved snakes," said Verna. "It's nothing but a coincidence, probably. Snakes aren't exactly rare in Hangkor." "From the accounts of Bray's death I read, and what you told me, it isn't clear why he went into the jungle alone that night." "Will was a reporter, too, remember. He went a lot of places alone." "I'm wondering if he was lured." "Lured? By what?" "I don't know. Something that looked familiar to him, someone he was anxious to see." "Duncan? You think Duncan would�"" "What I'm getting at, Verna, is that you may not have seen Duncan McMorrow at all." "But it was Duncan." "Whoever or whatever it was may have been able to make you think that." "You're talking about some sort of hypnotic illusion? A trap set by�Śby what?" "That's what I don't know," said Adam. "I want to talk this over with my father." "Well, you may be right, but I'm still certain what I saw." "You have to admit that if it was Duncan McMorrow it's odd that he didn't speak to you, didn't give you a chance to talk to him." "Odd maybe, but not inexplicable. I'm prepared to find that exposure to this jungle wilderness for two solid years may well have affected Duncan," said the girl. Adam said, "Okay, that's another possibility. Still, Verna, I think the best thing to do now would be to turn back. That is, you and most of the bearers. Let Jock and me go on toward�"" "No, that's quite impossible," said Verna, angry. "I came here to find Duncan McMorrow. I believe I'm very close to that and I won't quit." She left him standing at the clearing edge. The blind man sat up in the darkness of the night tent. Darkness was no stranger to him. He slid out of his sleeping bag and crossed to the place where Adam should have been. Even before his gnarled hand touched emptiness, Van Helsing knew his son was not there. "Adam?" he said, not expecting an answer. Very quickly he dressed himself and left the tent. "Mr. Van Helsing? What is it?" Verna had come out of her tent a few seconds after he had emerged from his. "Have you seen Adam?" "No, but I though I heard something out here�Śa few moments ago." She hurried to the bearer who sat by the fire and nudged him. "Have you seen anyone?" "Wide-awake the whole time, miss," the yawning man replied. "Saw nobody." "This way," said Van Helsing, "he went this way." Turning on her flashlight, Verna joined the blind man. "Do you think something's happened to him?" "Not yet," answered the blind mind. He seemed to know exactly where he was going as he wended his way into the dark jungle. He did not stumble. A night bird began a screeching song. Others took it up, and there was soon a fluttering of wings. "There he is," said Verna, pointing with the beam of her light. Adam was walking, very slowly, deeper into the jungle. He was about a hundred feet ahead of them. "Adam!" the girl called. He didn't turn, didn't stop. He kept walking, slowly, very stiff and straight. "What's that on his shoulder, that dark shape?" Verna said, before she realized the old man could not see. As she spoke, the black shape moved, shot up into the branches and was gone. Van Helsing was running. "Adam! Stop!" And still Adam walked, straight and slow. With a tremendous spurt of energy the blind man caught up with his son. He took him by the shoulders, spun him him around, and began to shake him. It was nearly a full minute before the glazed look left the young man's eyes. "Dad�ŚI�Ś" He took notice now of where he was. "This is�ŚI don't have any idea how I got here. Sleep-walking?" "Something had hold of you," said his father. Adam swallowed, then touched his fingers to his throat. "Yeah, you're right. What was it?" On his throat were two tiny puncture wounds, each streaked with blood. Chapter 14 "Ifs a good thing," remarked Pendragon while bouncing up and down, "I'm in tip-top physical shape. Otherwise this ride from the depot might give me a screeching headache and the king of all unsettled stomachs." "Just pretend," Vampirella suggested, "you're inside a giant cocktail shaker." The jeep bounced and bounded along the night trail. Their driver, a perpetually smiling Chinese, appeared to be oblivious to the rattling and bumping of his vehicle. The headlight beams scribbled wild doodles on the surrounding trees and brush. "I do hope, my child," said the magician, "the McMorrow journal is indeed authentic." "I'm sure it is." "Yes, it probably is," Pendragon said when his backside next slammed the seat. "Since you and I have become a world-renowned team I've embarked on very few wild-goose chases, more's the pity. If you promise vile and terrible things up ahead, vile and terrible things always show up." Vampirella reminded him, "You could have stayed in the capital." "What?" He smote his narrow chest with his fist. "And allow you to roam the vast uncharted jungles of Hangkor alone? The code of the Pendragons wouldn't allow that." "Plantation house coming up," announced their driver. The jeep bounded over a rise; he swung it around and stopped a few yards from the sprawling house. Although lights showed at the windows, there was a nobody-home feeling about the place. "He's not here," said Vampirella, hopping out of the jeep. Massaging his lower spine, Pendragon remained in the vehicle. "Perhaps, my child, we won't be staying?" "We'll stay." She took long-legged strides toward the veranda. "All our cash seems to be flowing in the wrong direction, of late," remarked the magician as he paid their smiling driver. "Postwar inflation." The driver unloaded their three suitcases and hesitated. "You sure you won't be returning to train station tonight?" "Alas, my partner informs me such is not to be the case." Vampirella went hurrying up the veranda steps and knocked on the door. "I feel like Melvyn Douglas arriving at the old dark house." Pendragon considered carrying two suitcases and settled for one. "Though I suppose your knowledge of the macabre cinema of the Thirties is, by necessity, limited." "Hush a minute," Vampirella advised. A quiet moment went by, after which the door opened. "Yes?" asked the small, gray-haired woman who squinted out. "What might I be doing for you?" The jeep coughed and went roaring away. "We'd like to see Miss Flairton." "Bless your heart, lass, so would I, but the dear thing's off in that perishing wilderness yonder." "When did they leave?" "Three days ago, miss." She noticed Pendragon. "Lord bless me if you don't have a touch of the music halls about you." "I've trod the boards since my youth," admitted the magician. "I am none other than the Great Pendragon. This charming young lady is Vampirella, my associate." "Ah, I've heard of you both. Come in, won't you now?" "I don't suppose," asked Vampirella crossing the threshold, "Adam Van Helsing is here, either?" "The big handsome lad? Not likely, miss. He went trotting off with the rest of them. Nobody left here but me and Lomax. He's the man of all work and I'm the maid and cook." She patted her gray hair. "Once upon a time I was known as Queenie Fielding, the Barsetshire Darling. That was in an earlier, and better, time." Dropping the suitcase beside a claw-footed table, Pendragon snapped his fingers. "I do believe, whilst on an extended tour of England, I did indeed catch your act, dear lady," he said. "I seem to recall your swinging in a very ornate swing and singing a very plaintive song." The maid clapped her hands togther, chuckling. "Lord bless you, that was me, sure enough." She glanced at Vampirella. "Why don't you sit down, child?" "I have," said Vampirella, remaining on her feet, "to get in touch with them." "You'll pardon my saying so, but I don't fancy that'll cheer Miss Flairton much," said Queenie. "She was quite critical of Mr. Van Helsing, the young chap, that is, for being smitten with you. 'And her name is Vampirella, Queenie,' she says to me on more than one occasion. 'Why on earth would a man of Adam's obvious intelligence take up with a magician's assistant?' Worried her a bit, it did. I tried to explain, using my own colorful life as chapter and verse, that a girl with a stage background is usually fascinating." "You have no way," said Pendragon, eyeing the decanter on the sideboard, "of communicating with Miss Flairton or any of her intrepid comrades?" "None whatsoever, Pendy. Can I fix you a whisky and splash?" "The splash will be unnecessary, Queenie my dear," he replied. "And I can pour my own." "Bless you then, go to it. My late husband was a great one for taking his whisky straight. Perhaps you saw him on the stage, too," said Queenie. "Alf the Magnificent he was known as." "A juggler, if memory serves." The magician poured himself a substantial shot of Scotch. "That he was. He could do twelve rings with ease and�"" "I have to reach Adam," cut in Vampirella, shaking her head, anxiously, from side to side. "They've a good three-day lead on us, child," Pendragon said. "And even with the handicap of Prince Saifu I imagine they've been making pretty good time." "I wasn't intending to follow on foot," the girl said. "Well, then, how�ŚHum. Ah, yes. I see." Pendragon sipped his drink. "Which means I'll stay behind while you�Śum�Śgo on alone." "Saints preserve us," exclaimed Queenie. "You can't venture into the jungle all alone, miss. Why, it was almost on our doorstep that a snake did in poor Mr. Bray. And it must be even worse the deeper into it you get." "I plan to�Śfly," said Vampirella. "They say there's not a place to land anywhere near where they're going. That's why Miss Flairton and her people had to make the trip the terrible strenuous way they are." "Don't let Vampirella's fragile appearance fool you, Queenie," said Pendragon after another swig. "She's one of the leading chutists in the world." "Is she now. Lord, I used to get giddy just going too high on my swing in that number we was just chatting about." The magician eased over to the girl's side. "When will you leave, child?" "Late tonight," she answered. "Wait here for me." After nodding, Pendragon bowed toward the little maid. "Queenie, could you manage to put me up here until my daredevil associate returns?" "Why, bless you, it'll be no trouble at all, Pendy," said Queenie with another chuckle. "We've got more spare rooms than we know what to do with. I'll enjoy, I might as well admit, having someone with a show business background staying here for a spell. The past weeks it's been old ruins and politics till I was about ready to give out with a good healthy screech." "A shame I left my scrapbooks back in the capital." "Ah, and mine destroyed in the Blitz many long years ago," said Queenie. "Well, never mind, we've got our memories to draw on." A single stripe of moonlight cut across the darkness to touch Vampirella. She was wearing her scanty scarlet costume. Lips slightly parted, hands on hips, she was staring toward the jungle. "I will surely be an expert on the English music hall ere you return, my dear." Pendragon, his cloak over his shoulders, came from the house to her. "It may be I won't be gone very long," the girl said. She held out a hand. He took it and pressed it with both of his. "You know where to find the party?" "I'll find them." Vampirella withdrew her hand from his. She took a backward step. "Bon voyage, then." After a few seconds the girl's long slender body began to shimmer. Then she simply was not there. Circling the ground above the spot where she had stood was a large black bat. Wings flapping, the bat rose up and headed into the darkness of the surrounding jungle. Soon it was lost from sight. Pendragon shivered and wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. "No matter how many times I see that," he muttered, "it still gives me a chill." Chapter 15 [From Duncan McMorrow's journal]�Śif there's time. We have to try. We've got to turn around, go back. And damn fast. "Why? We're on to something now," complained Millman when I told him. "We're on to more trouble than we can handle," I said. "There's still a chance we can get out of this alive." "You talking about these spooks you claim you see in the bushes? That what's turning you chicken?" "Look, all the legends about this damned city are true. Yilan was a place devoted to the worship of the snakegod." I took hold of his arm. "It still is." "Where you getting your info, Dune? These slopes been�"" "I've talked to someone from Yilan." A stupefied look hit his idiot face. Then he got angry. "So you been holding out on me. You got some inside stuff now and you�"" "If we keep on, they're going to kill you." "Wait a minute, Dune," said Millman. "I notice you don't include yourself in this death threat." "I'll be kept alive." I explained to him what the flame-haired girl had in mind for me. �Śa day's march away, back toward safety, before anything went wrong. At twilight we made camp. Two of the bearers went off to cut wood for a campfire. They never came back. "Probably," suggested Millman when it was obvious the men weren't going to return, "they're just scared spitless. Figure they can get back to civilization faster on their own." "No, they know we have a better chance of fighting off trouble if we stay together." "That's a rational way of looking at the thing, Dune. But to a frightened slope�"" "They were taken." Our remaining men seem to agree with me. They're going to stay up most of the night, holding on to their weapons, watching the jungle. I'm going to try to get a few hours' sleep. Millman has already turned in. He's snoring away, in that idiot way of his. I have a feeling�"just a minute. No, nothing. I thought I heard something outside the tent. What was I saying? Yeah, I have a feeling we're not going to get clear of this. Funny smell in here. Flowers. The way a funeral parlor smells. It's They're all dead. I'm sitting here in this damn clearing, shivering in the hot morning sun. They're all dead. Crushed, it looks like. I only examined Millman. Something crushed him. A snake, maybe. God, it would have to be a damn big snake to do what it did. To crush his rib like that, the way the jagged ends of bones were poking through the bloody flesh. And to smash his skull�Ś Jesus, why am I bothering to write this down? I guess it's either keep writing or start screaming. That flower smell last night. It put me to sleep, whatever it was. Must have put everybody to sleep. So I suppose Millman never knew what�Ś Lot of good that does. You're still just as dead, whether you know what got you or not. I could run. No, why bother? They're all around us. Change that. All around me. No us any more. Only dead men and me. If I'd gone with her right off, would it have made some difference? Kept them from killing Millman and the bearers? Doubt it. She wasn't bargaining when she talked to me. That was no you-for-them deal. It was a simple I-want-you-and-the-hell-with-them. Okay, now she's got me. Chapter 16 Jock Osborne stared into the campfire. "I've faced up to a lot of things," he said to Adam. "Some pretty rotten things." "Imagine you have." It was late at night, and they had the fire to themselves. "Okay, I know you're not the kind of guy to run, either, the way you saved me from that thing and all," continued the guide. He rubbed his rough hands over his knees. "I think we ought to call this whole thing off. After what happened to me, after what happened to you." Touching the bandage on his throat, Adam said, "I've been trying to persuade Verna to give it up and head for home. But she won't be persuaded." "Yeah, I know. She's stubborn. I've tried, too," said Jock. "She's convinced McMorrow is hanging around out there someplace." "Maybe he is." "Listen," said Jock, "I been talking to some of the bearers. Maybe they're superstitious, but they are convinced we're being watched." "By somebody other than McMorrow?" "By a whole lot of somebodies. I think they're right, I've had a feeling we've been tracked for the past couple of days," the big guide said. "Whoever it is, they're a shrewd bunch. I can't find much trace of them, but I'm pretty sure they're out there." "Who are they?" asked Adam. "No guerrillas in this part of Hangkor, so we've been told. You figure them to be from Yilan?" Jock laughed. "I'm changing my tune, ain't I? I was the one told you there wasn't anything to be afraid of out here," he said. "Yeah, I think we're being trailed and watched by these snake people. That thing, that snake or whatever it was, that got me the other night�Śthe thing converted me, buddy. I'm a true believer now." "The person we've got to convert is Verna." "Maybe not," said Jock after glancing in the direction of the tents. "Meaning what?" "Meaning we have ourselves a mutiny. We turn around and make for the high ground. If Verna won't go as a volunteer, we pick her up and carry her." "Yeah, it's a possibility," admitted Adam. "But what about Dr. Lavendar and the illustrious prince?" "Screw them," said Jock. "They want to stay out here and get grabbed by the snakes, let them." He leaned closer to Adam. "I tell you something else, I don't think Dr. Lavendar or Prince Saifu give a good crap for Duncan McMorrow or the archaeological joys to be had at Yilan. I think they're hoping for loot." Nodding, grinning, Adam said, "I've thought that myself for quite a while." "Okay, so suppose we make our pitch to Verna tomorrow," said the guide. "Make it to the whole damn lot of them. Then we cut out for home. I don't know what Lavendar and the prince'll say, but I know the bearers will be glad to quit." Adam stood up. "Let me think about it, Jock," he said, "and talk it over with my father. It's probably the best thing to do, but I want some time to kick the idea around." "I'll get back to you in the morning," said Jock. "I don't think we ought to wait much longer." "Neither do I." Adam headed for his tent. The blind old man said, "We have to face this, Adam." "I don't know, Dad." Adam was sitting atop his sleeping bag. "You and I facing it is one thing, but I'm worried that Verna is going to get hurt." "Psychologically yes, but not physically," said Van Helsing. "You certain?" "Yes, I've seen that." "Why psychological?" "Because she is going to find McMorrow," answered his father. "Find him as he is now, not as he was." "That was him she saw in the jungle?" "Yes, and you saw him also." Adam raised his eyebrows. "Not as himself, though," he said. "You mean as that giant snake?" The old man nodded, and the lantern light made flashes on his black glasses. "I suppose McMorrow had little choice," he said. "It was either become what he is, or die. For some that's a very difficult choice." His gaunt white hands clenched into fists. "We have to stop this snake cult, Adam. Wipe it out now, for good and all." "Yeah, okay, but that doesn't require Verna. She can be sent home." "I don't know if there's time to�"Ah!" He suddenly clutched at his chest. "Dad," said Adam, rising, "what is it?" "I've just seen�Śsomething," said the old man in a faint voice. "Adam, you have�"" Van Helsing never finished the sentence. He went limp and collapsed to the floor. Adam went to his side. He noticed now an odd floral scent in their tent, a very strong, cloying smell. Too sweet, too strong�Ś Adam fell beside his father. Chapter 17 The bat knifed down through the dawn. Its dark wings brushed at broad green leaves and ropy vines. It circled low over a jungle pool, shattering the thin cloud of mist which was easing up from the surface of the quiet water. The bat shimmered, quivered, and was gone. Beside the dawn pool stood Vampirella, dressed again in her scanty costume, standing with hands on hips. Absently, she rubbed the tips of her slender fingers along her smooth bare stomach. The camp was only a few hundreds yards from here. There a strange silence prevailed. No sound of movement, no morning bustle of activity. The campfire had been allowed to die; it was cold and black. A big, broad man slumped beside it in sleep. Vampirella, alert, ventured out of the jungle into the clearing. "It's too late!" croaked a voice from one of the tents. The girl, dark hair streaming, ran to the tent. "What's happened to Adam?" Body swaying slightly, Van Helsing stood in the opening. His black glasses seemed to be staring at her. "Did you�"No, forgive me," he said, voice cracking. "My brain is still addled, Vampirella. They used some kind of sleeping gas on us. Something quite ancient, but effective." "Adam's not here?" The old man said, "They took him. I saw that they would, but only moments before it happened. I saw them, here inside my head. Coming for him, from Yilan." "The snake cult," said Vampirella, letting out her breath. "I'm too late." "Adam is still alive," said Van Helsing, "I know that. But they will�"" "They'll what?" "He will be sacrificed. At their temple, deep beneath the ground," said Adam's father, slowly. "No, I'll stop them from doing that," she told the old man. "Why have they taken Adam, why is he the one to be sacrificed?" "Because he injured one of their priests, the high priest. A man who was once known as Duncan McMorrow." "Yes, I know about him," said Vampirella. "That's one of the reasons I came here, to warn Adam and the rest of you." "How did you find out about�"" "Who's this girl? What's been going on here?" Verna, blond hair tousled, came out of her tent and toward them. "Everyone is asleep, like some kind of�"" "We were all drugged," said Van Helsing. "Adam was taken." "Taken?" Verna ran, brushed by Vampirella, and looked into the tent. "Who�ŚAnd what does this girl have to do with it?" "I'm Vampirella. I came here to warn Adam, but it seems I'm too late. To warn him about the snake cult of Yilan and about your Duncan McMorrow." Van Helsing shook his head. "Miss Flairton doesn't as yet know anything about McMorrow. Perhaps it would be better not�"" "What are you talking about?" Verna caught the dark girl's bare arm. "Do you know something about Duncan, about where he is?" "I know he's behind what happened to Adam," Vampirella answered. Verna's fingers tightened. "He is alive! Tell me what you know about him." Vampirella pulled away from her. "There's no time now," she said. "Adam has to be saved." She turned away and began walking across the clearing. "You can't go up against them alone," warned the blind man. "Yes," Vampirella said, "I can." Chapter 18 With a flourish Pendragon unfurled his napkin and dabbed at his lips. "I must tell you truly, Queenie," he said, "those are the finest breakfast scones I've encountered in many a long and weary year." "Have another, Pendy," invited the gray-haired maid, who was seated across the breakfast table from him. "And try a little of the marmalade. The devil's own time I had finding this particular brand in this heathen land." "I'm noted for moderation in all things," said the magician, "which accounts for my being in such impressive shape. But one more scone won't hurt my regime, I fancy." Queenie watched him help himself. "That young lady you work with now," she said. "She's certainly a beauty, although she strikes me as looking a bit foreign." "There is that about her," agreed Pendragon as he spread thick orange marmalade on his hot buttered scone. He was not going to confide anything of Vampirella's real background to the pleasant Queenie. That Vampirella came from the far planet of Drakulon was something known only to Pendragon and Adam Van Helsing. (And probably the old boy.) "What's that, Pendy?" "Nothing, dear lady, I was mumbling to myself. A habit I acquired years ago while touring the bleaker stretches of the rural United States." "How long have you two been partners?" "Not long, as show business partnerships go. Burns and Allen, Smith and Dale, Weber and Fields were all together much, much longer," said Pendragon. "I am compelled to tell you that my success has increased vastly since we joined forces." "You're not�ŚForgive my asking�ŚYou're not a romantic twosome?" The magician set down his scone and raised his shaggy eyebrows. "My dear Queenie, ours is a strictly father-daughter relationship." he said. "Or rather, an uncle-niece. Since some fathers�Śwell, that's not to the point. You see, when we first met, Vampirella pulled me out of a rather dire spot I had fallen into." "Drink, was it? Or gambling? Or perhaps a woman?" "Remind me to lecture you, dear lady, on the perils of too much curiosity," said Pendragon, picking up the scone. "As a matter of fact, it was magic that got me into such a dire predicament. But that's another story." "Heaven forbid you should think me snoopy, Pendy," said Queenie, patting at her hair. "It's merely that when I meet an attractive gentleman�"such as yourself I'm always interested in whether or not he's involved with someone at the time. Had I practiced that rule in my madcap youth I'd have avoided a good deal of heartache. Why, once the Prince of Wales�Śah, but as you say, that's another story." Pendragon concentrated on consuming his scone. "I think I'd best call quits to this repast," he said when it was finished. "Have a little more tea, at any rate." She was up and at his side of the table, flowered teapot in hand. "I'll just�"Oh! Lord have mercy." The magician sat upright. "What on earth is the matter, dear lady?" The teapot lid rattled in her shaking hand. "The tea leaves, Pendy," she said finally. "I just happened to take a gander at them. Oh, that's terrible." "Gad, another prophet," muttered Pendragon. "What do you read there, Queenie?" "I hesitate to tell you," she said. "I have a thick skin. You may lay it on me." First carefully putting the teapot down, Queenie said, "It's quite bad, Pendy. The shape those leaves have taken�Śit means death for someone." She pointed at the dregs in his cup. "Can't you see the pattern?" He lifted the cup closer to his eyes. "Does rather resemble a snake, now you mention it," he said. Chapter 19 The city was suddenly there all around him. A circling blend of towers and terraces, turrets and stairways. Stone-paved streets and passageways. All of it had been built centuries and centuries ago of pastel-colored stone and brick, in soft earth colors, pale undersea blues and greens. Not one of the vast buildings was complete any more; much of the ancient city of Yilan had crumbled and fallen. Tumbles of stone, piles of brick, chunks of statuary lay where they'd fallen long years before. And once they'd fallen, the jungle pounced on them, covering them with grass and foliage, flowering plants and brush. Crusted them with moss. The jungle kept eating away at Yilan. Trees were thrusting up through the gold-colored courtyard bricks, tough grass grew on the high-climbing stairways, flowers and vines curled and twisted over everything. There were many statues and carvings. Flowered vines had been carved on many of the archways and building walls; representations of long-ago gods and demons scowled and glowered and grinned. Over and over appeared the image of the man with the scaled head of a snake. "Naga," said Adam aloud. The two men who were holding him, one by each arm, let go and backed off. Adam didn't try to run. He'd determined in his few minutes of awareness that there were about fifty men marching with him, fore and aft, into the city. Big men, most of them, with features which were a mix of Asian and Caucasian, each one dressed in an animal-skin loin cloth and carrying either a knife or a spear. The knives had gold handles. Tattooed on every man's chest was an image of the snakegod. How he'd gotten here to Yilan Adam had no idea. The sun in the clear blue sky above the ancient city showed him it was nearly midday. His last clear memory was of trying to reach his father's side. That had been in their tent last night. Was it last night? Adam felt it was, but had no way of being certain. The sweet-smelling gas they'd used on him had apparently induced him into some sort of trance state. These snake people must have put everyone in camp under and then led him away. There was no sign of any others of Verna's party being in this parade into Yilan. "Some kind of hypnotic state I've been in, sleepwalking more or less," thought Adam. "I've been doing exactly what they wanted." His two escorts, recovering from their surprise at his mention of the name of their god, took hold of him once again. The march resumed. They crossed another huge courtyard, broken towers rising on every side. Then up a wide flight of two hundred stone steps. A long blackish lizard skittered out of one crack and into another a few steps from the top. Directly ahead of Adam was a shadowy arched doorway. Twisting carved snakes framed the entrance. None of the snake men entered this large building, apparently a temple. His two guards led him close to the dark entry, pointed at it, and urged him forward. "This is my stop, is it?" With a shrug Adam went ahead. At first there was only darkness, chill and damp after the warm blue day outside. Far ahead, he became aware, a light glowed. The light was cast by a golden oil lamp which hung down on a golden chain. The lamp was directly over a stone throne. "This is what you have done," said the beautiful red-haired girl who sat upon that throne. The gold bracelets on her wrist jangled as she pointed at a stone altar to her left. A man lay there, his bare side bloody and swollen. A lesser gash was inscribed across his chest. He was a big man, tan and dark-haired. His eyes were shut, his mouth open. He breathed in a harsh snorting way, tossing, twitching. "This is Duncan McMorrow, isn't it?" "He once was called that," answered the redheaded priestess. "I've never seen him before, and I didn't do this to him," said Adam as he moved closer to the seriously injured man. "But you'd better have your boys kidnap a doctor for him." "You used your sword on him the other night," the girl told Adam. "You tried to kill him, but he returned to me." Adam swallowed once, looking up at the girl. She wore a full-length white robe of rough-spun cloth. The robe was cut deep in front and a coiled serpent was tattooed between her ample breasts. "He can change shape, then? He was the giant snake�Śa were-snake." "It is one of the things learned by the high priest who serves the great god Naga," the priestess replied. "I helped him to learn." "And do you share the power?" "I am the high priestess. What do you think?" Nodding, Adam said, "With all due respect to your religion, McMorrow is seriously injured. These wounds are infected, and unless a doctor looks at him damn soon he's�"" "He will not die." "Yes, he will," Adam told her. "You have to get�"" "You are here. Thus he will not die." "I'm not a doctor. There's nothing I can�"" "We have no need for doctors." She stood up, straight and tall. "Naga will give him back to me. Yes, when you have been sacrificed." "I see," said Adam. "It is you who have hurt him, and it is your life which shall be exchanged for his," the red-haired priestess explained, eyes blazing, finger pointing at him. "The power of the snakegod will see to that." Adam inclined his head in the direction of the groaning McMorrow. "Let me at least see if I can do something for him," he said. "I might be�"" "You are not to touch him!" She clapped her hands together, three times. Out of the deep shadows behind her throne six men emerged. Each was armed with a golden-handled knife. "Another escort," said Adam. "Take him to the chambers beneath the temple," ordered the girl. "He will wait there until the hour of the sacrifice to Naga." "Naga's will be done," muttered the half-dozen men. Adam made one more circle of the stone room and laughed. An oil lamp suspended from the low ceiling illuminated the underground chamber he'd been tossed into. "Dr. Lavendar and the prince would appreciate this," he said. Flashes of gold, of scarlet, of ice-blue. There was glitter and sparkle surrounding him. The piles of gold goblets, the spills of silver plates, the barrels of gems�"all of it glowed in the lamplight. "And this is probably only part of it," Adam speculated. As they'd led him down and down the curving stone stairs he'd looked into other rooms beneath the temple of the snakegod. He was fairly certain he'd caught glimpses of more piled loot and treasure. That long-dead pirate-king had indeed used Yilan as a storehouse. And, as is true with many another accumulated fortune, he'd never been able to spend it all. So here it sat, waiting through the centuries. Adam's career had taken him to many countries and this was not the first time he'd been locked in a cell. "But this is certainly the poshest cell I've ever been in," he said to himself. Chapter 20 "It's a mistake," said Jock Osbome, "plain and simple." The group had been on the move since morning. Not back toward the plantation, but in the direction of Yilan. The day was now waning, and dusk filled the jungle. A flock of green and gold birds went screeching overhead. "Stop it, Jock, quit," said Verna. "We all agreed to keep going. You've been grousing all day." "Dumb," said the guide. "It's dumb and stupid to walk right into a big mess." He went tramping ahead to talk to the head bearer. Verna slowed and dropped back until she was walking beside Van Helsing. "I wish," the blond girl said, "you'd tell me what else you know about Duncan." "Actually I don't know anything," the blind man told her. "I sometimes see the future, or events which are occurring elsewhere. But the visions are not always clear, and not always accurate. You understand I may sometimes see an event that may occur if certain other things happen. The future can be changed�Śsometimes, if we're lucky." "That girl who came to camp this morning," said Verna. "She seemed to know things about Duncan. How?" "I believe," said Van Helsing, "Duncan McMorrow kept some kind of diary. I've seen it." A bony finger tapped the side of his head. "The book was discarded by McMorrow in this jungle, then found by someone else. Eventually it found its way to Vampirella. Fate quite often sees to it that things work out in such a way." "You mean a diary of what happened to him after he disappeared?" "Some of what happened, yes." "Can't you tell me what you know�Śwhat you've sensed, rather, about what did happen?" The night continued to come on. Touching the frame of his night-black glasses with his forefinger, Van Helsing said, "You will find out�Śsoon." "It's something�Śterrible?" The old man shook his head. "Wait," he said. Farther back, Gove was insisting to Dr. Lavendar, "They're going to pick us all off. Just like they did young Van Helsing. Carry us off to feed to their serpent god." "Nothing of the sort," Dr. Lavendar assured him. "They took friend Adam because he'd offended them." "Snake-worshipers, anybody could offend them." Lavendar laughed. "Offended them by saving Osborne from the snake and giving the thing forty whacks." "I'm not overfond of snakes myself," said Gove. "I'd of done the�"" "But you didn't," said Lavendar. "Keep control of yourself until we reach Yilan. We're going to find ourselves treasure. We're going to take it." And at the party's rear Prince Saifu, swatting impatiently at the swarm of night insects who'd developed a great liking for his pudgy, perspiring face, said, "Things are working out most nice." Nim said, "It is as Len Zer tells us, the fruit of the�"" "I am much weary of all these stupid persons you continually quote to me. Be basically silent and listen to the wisdom I myself can pour forth." "Yes, most illustrious ruler." "It is beyond doubt that the sensual Vampirella has a journey made to Yilan," continued the fat prince. "She hopes to find her very stupid and unattractive friend. No matter. What is of much importance is the fact that she will be at Yilan and we will be at Yilan. So by traveling into the jungle I have aided my romantic cause of love after all." After a silent moment Mr. Nim said, "There may also be hundreds of snake-worshipers at Yilan, devout followers of Naga." "And is not the power of Prince Saifu of some potency? Did we not put down a crazed rebellion?" "There we had the help of the United�"" "We have guns now," said the prince. "We have the cunning of the educated man. Weapons and intelligence will always best the savage. That, Nim, is the entire story of the progress of civilization. Therefore�"" A scream of pain came shooting through the darkness from up ahead. "Watch out!" warned Jock. "Take defensive positions!" "What is it?" Verna cried out. Another of the bearers screamed. The spear did not kill so swiftly this time. The man staggered back along the trail and into the beam of the girl's light. His life was running out of him in a zigzagging red line, down his bare chest from the place where the spear point had torn into his flesh. "What'd I tell you? What'd I tell you?'" said Gove as the man fell into him, spattering blood. Up at the front of the party Jock swung his powerful torch back and forth, using its light to guide him. His pistol commenced to fire. "More of them over there." Gove, pressed against the bole of a tree, was peering into the jungle with great caution. He had a pistol in his right hand. "All right, you bastards, here's�"" A spear pronged him to the tree. Instead of more words, blood came out of his mouth. "Listen!" called a deep voice from the darkness. "The rest of you may live! Surrender to us now!" Hunched low, Verna made her way up to Jock. "Who are they?" "Despite the fact that one of them speaks our language," replied the guide, "I'd guess they're from your damn lost city." "Okay, then we will surrender." "Dammit, Verna, you saw what happened to the two bearers," said Jock. "They're not likely to allow us to�"" "Do what I say," the girl insisted. "Stop firing at them. Tell them we'll do as they want." After muttering, "Stupid and dumb," Jock cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Okay, buddy, you got us. We quit." Chapter 21 [From Duncan McMorrow's journal, final entry.]�Śanything like it. The spread of the place, the sprawling size of it is awesome. And the buildings, these damn ruined towers, and the colors. Like gigantic candle-holding bottles with melted wax encrusted on them. Yeah, the city looks as though it's all melted a little. The jungle can't wait, though, to take it back. Plants and grass have intruded everywhere. Cliché to say I never dreamed of anything like this, but still true. While poor idiot Millman and I were hacking our way here I never imagined Yilan would be like this. This massive, this damn impressive. Well, enough of the travelogue stuff, Dune. Let's get to the nub of the situation. To what my editor in New York would still call the nitty-gritty. Yilan is going to be my home. From now on, for as long as I live. I can remember reading about myself, a lot more than once, as being courageous. I suppose I believed that. Never believe your own press notices, that's a good rule. I don't have much courage now. When she made her final offer I didn't�"couldn't�"turn it down. You never stop learning about yourself. When I had to choose between her deal and dying, I picked staying alive. I kept thinking of Millman. What they'd done to him. Not that it's important whether you leave a handsome corpse behind. No, that isn't what I'm afraid of. I'm afraid of going through what he and the bearers went through to get from life to death. Those few minutes of pain, such awful pain. I don't want to suffer something like that. Or worse. So I'll suffer this. I'll be her�Śwhat's a polite word? Consort. Should be flattered. The old McMorrow charm is still strong. She saw me, she wanted me. Just like in the movies. "You will be the high priest," she told me. "You will rule Yilan with me. Together we will serve Naga." "Now, don't think you're not an attractive girl�ŚI don't know your name." "I am called Zmeya." "Look, Zmeya, I really don't want to rule any city. Be it Yilan or Philadelphia or�"" "You will either do as I say or you will die." We had arrived in Yilan by this time, and Zmeya had me escorted into the temple. Deep down into the temple. She showed me the sacrificial altar, with the trough for running your blood into a sacred pit. "This is what I get if I don't sign up?" "Naga is a most demanding god," this red-haired priestess explained to me. "There must be frequent sacrifices. I am sure one such as you would please him greatly as a blood sacrifice." I could see the stains on the altar very clearly from where they'd stood me. Ancient blood, and recent. I agreed to become the high priest. �Śabout herself. She wasn't born in Yilan, was not part of it until she was thirteen. Her parents owned a plantation to the south of here. One very early morning a band of guerrilla raiders hit the place. This was about fifteen years ago, a different revolution and a different ruler to topple. Almost everyone at her plantation was killed, her father and mother and older brother, but Zmeya got away. That isn't her name, her real name. She doesn't remember the real one any more. This is the name they gave her when she became a priestess. She was in the jungles, alone and wandering, for two weeks or more. Some of these people found her. At first they intended her for a sacrifice to Naga. Then the high priest saw her. From what I can gather, the snake religion has never completely died out here. For fifty years or more, possibly for most of this century, there's been a cult flourishing here in Yilan. In the past few years recruits have increased. Maybe this makes more sense to them than the political system of Hangkor. The high priest died a year ago. Since then Zmeya has been looking for a new consort. I came along, and she felt the problem was solved. "What they did to you," I told her once, "it's�"" "From your point of view, my new life may not be a happy one," Zmeya said. "You don't, however, realize what serving Naga can mean. The powers one acquires." "I suppose not," I admitted. "What sort of powers?" Eyes narrowing, she smiled at me. "This, for instance." She changed, as I watched, into a gigantic snake. �Śkeeping this journal any more. I seem to be having�Śtrouble with it. Organizing my�Śthoughts. Finding the right words any more. Now that I am no longer Duncan McMorrow, now that I am a high priest of Naga�Ś Well, it doesn't matter any more. Putting down what I think. I seem to be having trouble with the journal. Trouble organizing my�ŚNo, I already said that. I think, trying to remember, that I�"was perfectly clear on what was going on up until the ceremony where they made me into Zmeya's high priest. It's no excuse, but I�ŚI'd seen the altar. I knew they still made sacrifices to Naga. The way that girl�Śa young girl�Śway she screamed when the knife�Ś �Śdrink from that golden cup. I didn't want to�Śhad to. Or the knife would cut into me. �Śnot just blood in the cup. Something else�Śsomething�Śmy whole body burning�Śburning like the flames in the lamps�Ślike the flaming torches�Ś �Śthe way she screamed when the knife tore her flesh�Śthe blood as red and bright as the lamps�Ś �Śdidn't want to drink the blood�Ś �Śsaw him�Ś I know I saw him. �Śthey were chanting, chanting�Ś �Śchanting his name a thousand times and another thousand and the walls of the temple boomed with it�Ś I saw him�Ś �Śsomething else in the cup�Śdrug�Śsomething�Ś �Ścould explain why�Ś �Śhuge�Śrising up behind the altar�Ś �Śand the girl still screaming�Ś �Śno, she was dead by then�Śher body so pale�Śthe blood flowing down the stone slot and into that black hole�Śdropping down and down to�Ś �Śchanting his name and there he was�Ś �Śgigantic�Ś �ŚHis body the body of a man�Śthe head�Ś �Śa cobra head�Śtongue flickering�Ś �Śall fell�Śthey all fell to their knees�Ś �ŚZmeya stood, naked, arms raised high�Ś �Śasking him�Śasking him to accept me and to grant me�Ś �Śpowers�Ś �Śtaking my name and giving me�Ś �Śthis trip�Śa hunting trip�Ś �Śto find more victims�Ś For Naga demands frequent sacrifice and those of us who serve him must never allow him to be dissatisfied. If I were still�Śturn back if you don't remember the name�Śyou mentioned it a few pages back�Ś Doesn't matter. I'm not�Śnot him any more. And I have this power now and I can change, change as Zmeya changes. And I will use it to serve him. To serve Naga. �Śthrow this book away�Śwhatever it is . . . I have no use for Chapter 22 The crescent moon showed sharp and clear above the ruined towers of Yilan. A few thin, blackish clouds were drifting across the night sky. Vampirella, herself again after her flight, stood beside a gnarled tree and studied the ancient city. There were men placed all around the edges of Yilan, men with spears and knives. Besides these easily seen guards, there were more hidden in the jungle itself. There was a man not fifteen feet away from Vampirella. He was, however, not aware of her as yet. Although he had noticed the large bat which had come circling down a few minutes before. Vampirella felt very chilly inside herself as she watched Yilan. "This is the city I saw in my dream," she realized. "That immense building there must be the temple. Adam's inside, far below the ground." Many people had climbed the temple steps and entered it in the minutes Vampirella had been watching. Tonight must be the night of sacrifice. Thicker, darker clouds covered the moon. Vampirella, masked by the new darkness, eased herself nearer the guard. He was not aware of her until her hand whizzed into the side of his neck. He gave a grunt, a mingling of surprise and pain, before falling to the sward. Using vines and leaves, she tied and gagged him. She then continued to watch Yilan from the place where the guard had stood. "Do I want to fight my way in?" Vampirella asked herself. "Or is there a subtler way?" Adam was sitting calmly on the floor when the cell door was opened. "I have a feeling," he remarked when he saw that Zmeya was with the six large men who'd entered his treasure-filled cell, "this must be my curtain call." The red-haired priestess told him, "You are to be sacrificed tonight." "Not going to help McMorrow," Adam said, getting up and keeping, casually, one hand behind his back. "I imagine he's worse than he was when I saw him." Zmeya strode nearer. "He is very still and burning hot. He breathes with great effort," she said. "Naga will cure him. When your blood runs into the sacred pit my high priest will rise and walk." "Naga can't cure him, and neither can blood dripping into a hole in the ground. He needs medical help, doctors and medicine. Otherwise�"" "You greatly underestimate the power of Naga," she said. "Perhaps you will live long enough to witness what he can do." "He can't do what a hospital can," Adam persisted. "You've got to get help for McMorrow. Otherwise he'll die." "It is you who shall die." Zmeya pointed at him. "Take him to the altar of sacrifice." Adam acted. Using the heavy, jewel-encrusted cup he'd selected earlier as a club, he went for the nearest guard. He chopped the man's knife from his grasp and caught the weapon before it touched the floor. Then he twisted the guard's knife arm behind his back and used the man as a shield. "Okay," he said, touching the point of the knife to the guard's side. "Everybody move out of my way." The five other guards, tensed, looked toward the high p'riestess. Zmeya said to them, "Stay where you are." "I'll use this knife on him," warned Adam. The priestess said, "No, you will not. You can make the threat, but you can not carry it through." "You're forgetting what I did to McMorrow." "That was in a fight," said Zmeya. "I know you are not the kind of man who can kill this way. Many of your people are like that, and you are one of them." Adam pressed harder with the knife, and the tip sank into the guard's skin. "Order them to let me pass." "No," said Zmeya. "And even if you could bring yourself to kill him, it would do you no good. We are not sentimental. We would let him die and then the rest of my guards would overpower you." "They'd have to fight some." "They expect that," said the priestess. "Now, please, either kill this fool or throw down the knife. We can waste no more time." Adam waited a few seconds. "You're right," he said and tossed the knife aside. It knocked over a stack of golden plates. "I can't kill him this way." "You have not served Naga; he has not hardened your heart." She nodded at the guards, including the one Adam now let go. "You will escort this man to the place of sacrifice." Chapter 23 They led Adam to the stone altar and chained him, spread-eagled, to it. There was a foul smell hanging in the air, and the altar was warm and sticky beneath him. "He's dying," Adam said. "Don't you understand? Look at him." Near the altar Duncan McMorrow lay on a straw mat, eyes tight shut, seemingly sinking into his skull. His lips were black and cracked. Between each inhalation and exhalation there was a pause, as though the wounded man might give up breathing, was considering it. "He shall live," cried Zmeya. "Naga will return him to me!" "Death is going to have him, not you." The priestess came to stand over Adam. "Your blood will buy his life!" "I don't know much about you," Adam said to the girl, "but I'd guess you've seen more of the world than Yilan. If you do know what things are like elsewhere, you have to know McMorrow can't pull through without medical help. It may be even too late for that." After several seconds of hesitating, she answered, "I am Zmeya, high priestess of Yilan. Whatever else I might have been is unimportant. I do not remember." "I can help you. I can help McMorrow until we can�"" She slapped him hard across the face. "Begin," she ordered as she stepped away from the altar. There were several hundred followers of the serpent god, men and women, in the cavernous underground temple. All of them were kneeling on the stone floor. Oil lamps burned brightly, and along the wall torches were lit. The worshipers were motionless, but their sooty shadows danced on the stone walls. Now, very quietly at first, Zmeya began to chant. "Oh Ningizzida, O Gula-Bau! Carry our message to the all-powerful Naga himself." "All-powerful Naga himself!" echoed the crowd of worshipers. As Zmeya raised her arms, her breasts rose beneath her robe. "Naga, who rules the universe in the form of both man and serpent, come to us now!" "Listen to me, hear my plea," cried the red-haired priestess. "Listen! Listen!" "In the name of sacred Muchalinda, in the name of Typhon, I petition you to come to us!" "Come! Come!" "Almighty Naga, I prepare myself to welcome you!" Zmeya pulled her robe up and off her body and dropped it on the stone flooring. She stroked off her gold bracelets, tore off her jewels and flung them away. Standing naked, nipples erect, she began to sway with her arms raised high. She chanted in a louder, harsher voice. "I prepare myself! I become! I change!" "Change! Change!" Her naked body, sleek with perspiration, started to glow faintly green. The tempo of her swaying increased. "Change! Change!" shouted the worshipers. An immense snake, as large at least as the one Adam had fought, was undulating where the naked priestess had been. Its cobra head ticked from side to side, its tongue furling and unfurling. "Praise Naga! Praise Naga!" At the edge of the crowd of worshipers drums commenced beating. Six of the snake people, each clad in a dark robe, came forward out of the shadows to circle Adam. At each end of the stone altar a brazier was lit. Acrid smoke spewed out, swirling across Adam's chained body. Each of the robed lesser priests raised his right hand; in each hand gleamed a long-bladed knife. A low chanting started. "Accept this sacrifice, oh Naga! Accept this blood!" Adam pulled at the chains which held him. They didn't give. He became aware of a rasping sound. And then rising above him was the head of the giant snake, tongue flicking. So it wasn't going to be just the knives. The snake, the snake that had been Zmeya, would attack him first. Adam kept straining at the chains, although he knew it could not save him. The snake head swayed nearer to him. Then one of the priests cried out, "Look! What is it?" A black shape had come plummeting down out of the shadows above. A large bat collided, hard, with the giant snake. The snake made a keening, pain-filled noise as the bat's fangs sank into it. The body began to thrash, tail slapping against the stone altar. The bat held fast. Blood spouted out of the snake's side near its head, splashing down its scaly body. One of the priests lunged, trying to slash at the clinging bat. He missed and fell to one knee. The two figures were moving, struggling, away from the altar. A smoking brazier was knocked over, splashing sparks and glowing coals. By now most of the worshipers had risen from their knees. Awed, puzzled, they watched the strange combat. The snake gave another scream and began to change. As the transition from serpent to girl was completed, Zmeya fell to the floor. With her hands she tore at the bat which was draining the life from her. Then the bat changed, too. Vampirella was crouched over the struggling priestess. "We must stop this!" shouted a priest. He raised his knfe to a throwing position. Zmeya ceased struggling. Vampirella stood, her lips smeared with blood, her incredibly sharp canine teeth bared. "Back, get away," she told the priest. Her eyes, slitted, glowed bright in the smoky dark. "Drop the knife." The priest let his arm swing down. Vampirella lifted a bare arm, wiped it across her mouth, and brought it away striped with crimson. She strode to the altar, took the chains of one of Adam's manacles in her fists, and tugged. With a snapping clang that filled the temple the chain broke. She snapped the rest of the chains that held him. "Thanks," he said, swinging to the ground. "If you hadn't�"" Vampirella ignored him. She was facing, hands on hips, the circle of priests. "Everything is over here," she announced. "Naga will be worshiped no more. Yilan belongs to the jungle. You must all depart. Now!" Her eyes, glowing and hypnotic, held them all. Slowly, dazed, the priests bowed and wandered away. The snake-worshipers, murmuring but fearful, followed them out of the underground temple and up toward the city above. Adam waited, saying nothing. Finally Vampirella returned to him. He put his arms around her and bent to kiss her. She wiped at her lips with her palm. "Not yet," she said. Head lowered, she hugged him. "I'm glad I was in time." "Yeah, I share that sentiment," said Adam. "It was starting to look like I was going to get traded to Naga for�ŚHey, that's right." He let go of the supple, dark-haired girl. "We've got to see what we can do for McMorrow." "Where is he?" "Right over there on�Ś" Adam was pointing at the straw mat, realizing it was empty. "The guy was dying. He couldn't have�"" Vampirella caught his hand. "Let him go," she said. "Duncan McMorrow has one more thing to do." "You've got a premonition?" "A feeling," said Vampirella. She glanced over at the body of Zmeya. "I'm sorry about her, but it was too late�Ś" Chapter 24 The stone steps went on and on, and then they stopped and the city was gone and there was jungle. The fragment of moon wouldn't stay in the same place. It careened through the sky. The sky was sometimes deepest black and sometimes glaring yellow. The stars were falling, shooting down out of the night, blazing and dying. He had been this way, through this jungle, many times. He was almost certain of that. On those many nights when he had roamed in search of victims. He had had some kind of incredible power. The ability to transform himself into�Ś He couldn't quite remember that. The whole of his life in Yilan was fading from his mind. As he stumbled through the jungle he recalled that he was Duncan McMorrow. A year ago�Śno, it was two at least. Two years ago he had come into these jungles in search of something. Must have been a story. Because that's what he did. He was a writer. "A damn good one." He said it aloud and frightened himself. The voice that came out through his dry, cracked lips was weak and dry. The voice of a stranger. And the sky went blazing red for a moment and he fell and got up and it was black again and the moon was there where it used to be. A writer. He was going to be somebody, somebody important. They all believed in him, everyone in�ŚNew Haven, Connecticut. That's right. Duncan McMorrow of New Haven, Connecticut. He was going to be a writer when he got out of school. Write important stuff. "Did you do that?" he asked himself in that terrible voice. Yes, he had, hadn't he? Okay, so it was newspaper stuff, magazine stuff, and no one had ever mentioned him and the Pulitzer in the same breath. Even so, he was good, and sooner or later he'd write something that meant something to him. It was a question of getting enough money ahead. That was it. The reason for coming here to this jungle to search for the damned lost city. It was supposed to be packed with treasure. Gold, gems, you name it. "Jesus, it's so cold," murmured McMorrow as he went tottering along. "It shouldn't be so damn cold." Gold, gems, treasure. He had the notion he'd found the loot, found the lost city. But it hadn't done him much good. "Why is that?" Don't get moralistic with me now, McMorrow. Don't tell me gold can't buy�ŚNo, that wasn't the reason. Something to do with what he had become. Before he saw the treasure, the rooms piled high with it, all of it glittering and sparkling. Before he saw it, he had committed himself to something. "I can't remember," he rasped out, staggering. It doesn't matter now, anyway. You're just about dead. That's what's happening to you. You're dying. You should have been dead already. Back there in the temple. Except that when Zmeya died, something snapped inside you and you got an idea. Some kind of notion you had to get away from Yilan and find Verna again. "Yeah, you're right�Ś" He fell flat out into the brush. Thorns tore at him. All over, McMorrow. Stay here and wait for it. Death is coming for you. "Not yet." He pushed at the earth, fought the coiling vines in which he was tangled. The wounds began to bleed again, slow and oozing. Nothing, McMorrow. You're just about nothing. Give up. He pushed again and got to his knees. "Not going to give up." The whole jungle began to glow bright yellow. That didn't last, and when it was over McMorrow was on his feet. He was going to make it. Win this thing. After he found Verna and got better�Śafter he found Verna and got better, then he'd do some writing again. Not this newspaper stuff, not the lousy magazine pieces. Something good, something important. If he'd found the money, the treasure, it would make things a lot easier. You did find the money, McMorrow. Remember? You ruled the whole city of Yilan. You and Zmeya. You were the high priest, and all the treasure was yours. "Don't remember." Sure you do. You can't have forgotten Zmeya. And the temple. You must recall the ceremonies, the sacrifices made to Naga. Victims slaughtered for the snake of the serpent god. You were a part of all that. "Somebody else," he said in his ruined voice. "Not me." He was Duncan McMorrow of New Haven, Connecticut. A writer of some promise. A chilling wind seemed to be roaring through the trees. It caught at him, spun him around and around. "Going to make it." The wind let him go, and he toppled down and was still. Chapter 25 Pendragon gulped down the rest of the contents of his teacup. "How truly bleak the world looks at this unholy hour." Across the breakfast table Queenie said, "It's a brave thing you're doing, Pendy." "Vampirella and the senior Van Helsing are not the only ones capable of acting on hunches." He poured some more brandy into the teacup. "Ever since those tea leaves told us there was trouble awaiting Vampirella and the others on the expedition, I've been brooding." "That I know, and it saddened me to see such furrows on your handsome brow." Pushing away from the table, the magician crossed to a window. "Five a.m.," he said as he peered out at the dawning day. "In my prime (several eons ago) I would be toddling home at this hour, but to arise at such a time�Śgad." "Still, you must remember, it's lucky you were able to hire the gentleman at all." Queenie had followed him to the window. "Well, an astute application of the fabled Flairton name, coupled with a little out-and-out lying, turned the trick," he said. "Once one has developed the art of patter, dear lady, one can use it anywhere and not merely upon the stage." "That's true enough," agreed the maid. "I recall my late husband would often�"" "Hark!" said Pendragon. A puffing, chuffing sound had started up above the plantation house. It grew louder and louder, and wind rattled the windows. Pendragon swallowed down the remaining brandy in the dainty cup and handed it to Queenie. "I will now embark on what promises to be a memorable excursion, and one sure to put my name in the record books along with those of Frank 'Bring 'Em Back Alive' Buck and Richard Halliburton." He took hold of her free hand, bowed, and pressed it to his lips. "Until we meet again, my dear Queenie." She gave him an encouraging pat on the back. "You'll fare all right, Pendy. I'm certain of it," she said. "And the tea leaves agree, more or less." "More or less?" muttered the magician as he stepped out onto the veranda. An olive-green helicopter sat in the clearing between the house and the jungle. A thickset American with dark glasses and an orange neck scarf was beside the plane, hands in the pockets of his flying jacket. "You Mr. Pennerton?" he inquired. "Pendragon, sir," replied the magician. "I am the Great Pendragon." "That's one hell of a first name. Great. I thought my folks were wacky for sticking me with Virgil, but Great is even�"" "The Great part was awarded me by an adoring public, Virgil," explained Pendragon while he approached the 'copter. "I had a cousin once named Chastity, but by the time she was sixteen�"" "Since I aroused myself at this heathenish hour, Virgil, I would like to take wing." Pendragon nodded at the ship. "May we?" "Sure, sure thing," said Virgil. "First, though, tell me where we're heading, Great." Pendragon pointed in the direction Vampirella had gone. "That way," he said. Hand in hand, Vampirella and Adam explored the temple of the snakegod. "This," the girl said as they entered another underground room rich with treasure, "more than lives up to the rumors about Yilan." "I think this is what Prince Saifu is expecting to find." Adam kicked at an oaken chest full of golden coins. "And probably the illustrious Dr. Lavendar as well." "If the prince gets his hands on this," reflected Vampirella, "it's not going to help anyone but the prince." "I don't know," said Adam, "Lavendar is a pretty tough customer. He may be able to see that some of it�"" "Finds its way into Lavendar's collection," said Vampirella. "Or his bank account." Hands behind her slim back, she wandered around the treasure room. "You know, Adam, Pendragon and I have done a couple of free performances since we hit Hangkor, in the hospitals. They need money. I'd like to see some of this treasure used for that." "A good thought," admitted Adam, "but Prince Saifu might be able to keep you from selling any of this stuff. I suppose it belongs to the state, actually." "Prince Saifu doesn't have to know about it," said' the girl. "And I know a dealer, a man named Marston Lee, who should be able to help us convert some of this into cash." "Worth a try," grinned Adam. "Thing is, Veraa's party was on the way here when last I heard. I don't know what happened to them, but it's sure possible they'll be tramping into the city at any time." Vampirella rubbed her fingertips across her forehead. "No, they won't be here for some time yet. And some of them not at all." "Between you and my father," said Adam, "I feel handicapped in not being able to see into the future." She touched his arm. "You have compensating talents, Adam," she said. "Now let's see about looting this temple. We want to gather up the lightest, most valuable things." "And then?" "We'll do what people usually do with treasure," Vampirella said. "Bury it." Chapter 26 "We'll all be dead by tonight," said Jock Osborne. Dawn was filling the clearing where their captors had allowed them to rest for a few hours. Seated on the ground near the guide, hugging herself, Verna said, "There still may be a chance, Jock. You don't�"" "I understand the dialect some of these bastards speak," he told her, nodding in the direction of some of the ten men who surrounded the clearing. "The guy who speaks English and tells us what to do is conning us. We're not going to be guests at their city very long. What the other guys are talking about is a big ceremony for tonight. A ceremony of sacrifices. Human sacrifices. Namely, us." Verna shivered and did not reply. Nearby Prince Saifu was pacing fretfully. "I should expect you could have made these disgusting barbarians comprehend who it is I am by now," he said to Nim. "I am, do they not realize, the ruler of this entire and whole country. They are my subjects, and yet they act distinctly vice versa." The saffron-hued little man said, "I have made every effort to convey this message to them, royal sir. My words have, I fear, fallen on deaf ears. They profess to owe loyalty to a higher authority." "There is no higher authority than I," said the angry prince. "Not in Hangkor." "They refer to a snakegod," explained Nim. "A snakegod outranking me?" Prince Saifu's pudgy nose wrinkled. "What a revolting notion, I must say." Dr. Lavendar, his beard tangled and dirt-smeared, came over to them. "Surely, prince," he said, "you are familiar with the unswerving devotion of the followers of Naga. A man with your deep interest in antiquities." The fat prince made a shoofly motion with his right hand. "Yes, of course, doctor," he said. "There is little about the colorful history of my dear country I am not very much aware of." Scratching at his barrel chest, Dr. Lavendar said, "I would think you'd be anticipating our visit to Yilan with great enthusiasm. It will be a rare opportunity." "My enthusiasm is made somewhat damp by the unpleasant way in which we are being taken there," replied Prince Saifu. "I doubt if I can make clear to you how sensitive being a prince makes a man. To be treated like this, prodded by gross people, insulted, not allowed to take proper care of my person�Śit is very difficult to bear." "I sympathize with you," said Lavendar. "The murder of my associate is as nothing compared with the discomfort you are feeling." "Associates are plentiful in this world, doctor. There is, however, only one Prince Saifu," said the pudgy prince. "I needn't mention how awful will be things should I perish as a result of this." "The country would be plunged into chaos," amplified Nim. "There would be much distress in the Western world, the balance of power in this part of the world would be thrown off, there would be universal mourning, heads of state would send sincere messages of sorrow." Dr. Lavendar laughed. "Well, we'll have to see if we can save your bacon then, Prince," he said and walked away. "How a person such as that ever rose in the academic world is beyond me," remarked the prince. "Standards are different in the West, your excellency." "Even so�Śwhat is causing the agitation among our surly captors?" The snake people were staring into the jungle, talking to each other. "Somebody coming," said Jock. "Maybe," said Verna, "it's someone we can reason with." The head of the snake people, the man who spoke English, raised his spear and watched the jungle. Something was approaching; leaves rattled and branches cracked. A moment later a figure emerged into the clearing. Verna inhaled sharply. "It's Duncan," she said, starting to run to him. "Wait," cautioned the guide, catching her arm and holding her where she was. "He's hurt, he's�"" "Don't do anything," said Jock. "Watch." Already their captors were dropping to their knees. The head man lowered his spear and bowed. "We did not expect you," he said. McMorrow stared at the man with glazed eyes and ran his tongue over his lips. His body was scratched and torn, and new blood was seeping from the old wounds. He managed, though, to pull himself up straight. "These people are my friends," he said. "You are to let them go." "But we�"" "Let them go, and clear out yourselves," ordered McMorrow in a voice that was closer to his original voice than it had been. They hesitated only seconds, then gathered their weapons together and abandoned the clearing. McMorrow turned toward Verna. "I had to get here to�"" His knees folded up. He dropped down, rocked, and tumbled over onto his side. "Duncan!" Verna pulled free of the restraining hand of the guide. She went to the fallen man. "Most remarkable thing," observed the prince. "Who can this chap be?" "The object of our quest," said Nim. "It is Duncan McMorrow." "Object of our quest?" A look of puzzlement touched the fat face. "Oh, yes, that's right." Verna had McMorrow's battered head resting in her lap. "Duncan," she said, repeating his name again and again. His eyes were closed, his breathing uneven. Dr. Lavendar squatted down beside him. "Amazing that this fellow could walk in here under his own power. I'm willing to bet he won't live much beyond�"" "He'll live," insisted Verna. "While I am not a doctor of medicine," said Lavendar, "I have had some experience with this sort of thing and I can assure you, Verna, that wounds like that are almost always�"" "Can the crap," suggested Jock, who was examining the now unconscious McMorrow. "I've seen guys worse off than this, in the various and sundry wars I been in. What we got to do is get him some medical help. Right quick." Verna said, "That's impossible. We're days from anywhere. He's going to die. There's no�"" "Hush up and let me think," said the guide. "Damn, if only we had�"Hey!" He jumped up and started waving his hands in the air. "Hey, down here! Hey!" The olive-green helicopter he'd heard huffing across the morning noticed them. It was dropping straight down toward the clearing. Dust and leaves and twigs and grit began to spin through the air. "Most unpleasant," said Prince Saifu, rubbing at his eyes. The wind stopped as the 'copter landed. The door opened, and a lean man in a plaid cloak stepped out. Bowing to them all, he said, "To those of you who do not know me, permit me to introduce myself. I am the Great Pendragon." Chapter 27 Pendragon was arranging a bunch of white carnations in a vase when Vampirella and Adam entered the dressing room. "Don't tell me he's starting that again?" asked the girl, flinging her leopard-skin coat over a hook. "These are not from Prince Saifu," explained the magician. "Didn't it ever occur to you, dear child, that I have admirers of my own?" "No," said Vampirella. Adam picked up the florist card from the makeup table. "A lady admirer, too," he said. "Ah, none other than Queenie." "The dear lady has a few days off and is seeing the sights of the capital," said Pendragon as he extracted the card from Adam's fingers. "Naturally, I was near the head of her list." "Naturally." Vampirella sat down in a wicker chair and crossed her legs. "Did you have a fruitful chat with Mr. Lee?" Pendragon asked. Glancing at the door, Adam said, "Looks like it's going to work out. Lee figures he can raise something like $200,000 on the items Vampirella and I managed to�"" "Smuggle," supplied the girl. "Smuggle out of Yilan," Adam went on. "We'll see that most of that gets to the hospitals hereabouts. A gift from an anonymous donor." "Lee also knows how to make sure too much of the money doesn't get skimmed off for graft," said Vampirella. "I hear tell," said Pendragon as he approached the light-framed mirror, "that Dr. Lavendar and the prince have discovered a fabulous lost city in the jungle." Adam grinned. "They kept on with the search after you got Verna and McMorrow out of there last week. However, I was able to see to it that the press�"and not just Saifu's puppet local papers�"found out about it. He won't be able to keep as much of the loot as he was hoping for. And I think poor Lavendar will be lucky if he ends up with a few pieces for one of the museums he's affiliated with back in the States." The magician was scowling at his face in the mirror. "Well, let us once again try to put the blush of youth back on these ancient cheeks," he said, picking up a jar of makeup. "I don't know the Lavendar chap, but any ill luck that comes the prince's plump way is okay by me." He dabbed red spots on his face. "How fares McMorrow?" "I saw Verna this morning," said Adam. "She says he's out of danger. She was able to talk to him for a few minutes last night." "He apparently doesn't remember much about what went on at Yilan," said Vampirella. "From what you two tell me about the joint, that's just as well." Pendragon rubbed the makeup into his skin. "Not the sort of place that's ever going to give Disneyland any competition. Are there going to be any legal problems for the McMorrow chap?" Adam leaned against the door. "Well, technically he's guilty of murder," he said. "There were sacrifices made at the temple. And it's likely he's the one who killed Will Bray." "That'll be a hard charge to prove in court," the magician pointed out. " 'Your honor, this gentleman turned into a snake and on the night in question�Ś' I can see the defense casting scorn on something like that." "Yes, most people would be skeptical about a were-snake," agreed Adam. "More important, Vampirella let me read that journal of McMorrow's that was found in the jungle. Seems pretty clear that he was given drugs in Yilan and also hypnotized. So how much of the guilt is really his�Ś" He shrugged, spreading his hands wide apart. "He's going to have a tough enough time as it is. I imagine he's got a lot of therapy sessions ahead of him." "And the Flairton money behind him," said Pendragon. "That'll help," said Adam. "I don't think McMorrow is a very admirable guy," said Vampirella. "At least, he didn't come across that way in the diary. But I'm glad we saved him. That's one more for us, one more point for our side." "Yes, it's a good day when you can outscore a snakegod," said Pendragon. He somewhat forlornly examined his face again. "Mayhap I ought to call in a good embalmer to liven up my looks." "You're being oversensitive," Vampirella told him, "because your lady admirer is going to be out front." "Nay, child, to anyone who's seen me at dawn before I've had a chance to fortify myself with more than a few libations, my present appearance is no shock," Pendragon said. He turned away from the mirror and reached for his black cloak on a wall hook. "I trust your respected parent has come out of his jungle trek with few profound signs of damage." Adam answered, "Yeah, Dad's fine. We're going to be leaving Hangkor in another couple of days. Someone in San Francisco wants to hire us." "Ah, yet another case for the formidable occult team. What sort of problem awaits you in the city of the Golden Gate?" "Well�Ś" Vampirella uncrossed her legs. "It's to do with vampires," she said. "Right up their alley." "Now, look, Vampirella, I've already told you that my father doesn't�"" Tap. Tap. Tap. Pendragon tiptoed to the dressing room door and opened it a fraction. "More flowers for the Great Pendragon?" "This telegram just came." A hairy hand thrust it inside. "Saved me the effort of slitting the envelope, I see," Pendragon called at the closing door. He extracted the yellow message and read it over once. Then again. "Well, my, my. A most generous offer." He rubbed the telegram beneath his sharp nose as though it were a flower, sniffing at it. "We have been offered a handsome engagement in another of the far corners of the world, child." "Where?" The magician handed her the telgram. "Before we accept, do you have any premonitions about the place?" After reading the message, Vampirella said, "Sounds like it'll be fun. We should have a great time. Wire and tell them we accept." Pendragon blinked. "You expect nothing but fun and good times." "That's it exactly," Vampirella said. "I don't know why," said Pendragon, "but that worries me."

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