ERIK'S JOURNAL - SEQUEL TO THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

Good to see you again, Slitherliggie. Thank you for the kind review.

Now let's see what's happening this week.

Here's the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!


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CHAPTER 50

Ice Palace of the Snowshoe Goddess

The Snowshoe Goddess as Skadi is sometimes called, patted her white wolf and mumbled something in Norwegian. Ice crystals began changing colors all around them. Examining the spear, Phantom Doone asked how he could be sure it wasn’t fake. The goddess didn’t answer at first, as she and the wolf wandered away from him.

Touching her shoulder gently, he made her turn and look at him. His eyes looked as loving and gentle as when they first kissed. “Sissi, please. Don’t turn away. Remember, you left me,” came the sad reminder.

“Yes, I know. I am to blame,” she replied as tears filled her eyes, recalling the day they parted. Phantom Doone had asked her to remain with him beneath the Paris Opera House, but her vanity and pride refused him. After all, an Empress must do what is expected of her, regardless of love. Politics has no room for love.

“I still love you,” he whispered.

“You have the real Spear of Destiny. When it was taken from Adolf Hitler, the Americans brought it here, hoping to hide it forever. I give it to you freely and without any conditions. Go Erik! Seeing you breaks my heart,” her voice trembled and her hands shook.

Without a word, the man gathered the beautiful woman into his arms and pressed his warm lips against hers with a burning passion that nearly melted the palace. Their faces flushed red as the snow and ice turned to water beneath their feet.

For a brief instant, the world around them vanished and they were the only ones in a domain all their own. When their lips parted, he asked her to go with him.

“Do not refuse me again, Sissi. It matters not how or why you became the Norse goddess of winter and the daughter of a frost giant. To me you are only Sissi, the woman I fell in love with so many years ago.”

“Who would control the ice and snow?” came the haughty retort, as she pulled away.

“Your Egyptian gods have no power over the realm of ice.”

“Are you jealous of…” he thought of Hathor.

“Do not say her name. I know her very well. The gods are all the same, their names and duties change due to the region, people and culture. However, Egypt has no ice and snow, neither does the Greece or Rome, not like this, anyway. The only goddess of winter is me. Go Erik! Just go!” Skadi turned quickly and moved toward the exit.

Doone stood confused and hurt. Once again the haughty woman refused to share her life with him. Her duties came before their love as in the past. His heart ached and his stomach bunched up in knots. Why did women reject his love? First Mae, then Christine and now Sissi, Skadi or whatever she chose to call herself. So many questions he wanted to ask but didn’t. The same with Skadi. Without a doubt, if she heard the answer to the questions, which haunted her, she would never let him go.

“Then I’ll stay with you. Keep the Spear. I’d rather have you,” his voice quavered and his mouth felt dry.

“Command the Spear, it is in your possession and must do as you wish. Now, you are not only powerful but no one can defeat you. Victory will always be yours.”

“And the Staff of Osiris?”

“The power of the Spear pales compared to the Staff. This is all I can tell you…” her voice trailed as she shimmered and vanished with the wolf.

“No Sissi, please. Don’t leave me again. Not again. I don’t want the Spear if it means loosing you!” he raised his voice in pain and threw the Spear across the floor disturbing the scattered snow.

“SISSI, DON’T LEAVE ME! I LOVE YOU!” As he threw up his hands and looked up to the ceiling and the marvelously carved scenes, the Spear flew back into his hand. As his voice grew louder, bits of powdery snow drifted from the rafters.

Again, he threw down the spear and circled the frosty room, looking for the woman he loved, only to have the Lance of Longinus jump back into his hand.

Unbeknown to Doone, the ice goddess watched from the shadows of the pulsing multicolored lights from the surrounding ice crystals. The change in the room’s atmosphere depicted the emotions of the deity.

“I will always love you, my beloved Erik,” she whispered softly; as the man left the palace, spear in hand. “If you need, call and I will assist.” Sadly, the wolf threw back its head and howled a mournful howl as the snow began to fall and winds moaned.

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Looking out over the balcony, the heat of the Egyptian desert beat down unmercifully with cruel intent. Sweaty slaves labored unceasingly on the Pharaoh’s pyramid, rolling carts loaded down with huge blocks of stone.

The din of the bazaar soared up the ears of the Pharaoh’s wife, who surveyed the kingdom for the first time. Being wife to the former Phantom of the Opera deemed tough enough, but life with a Pharaoh, a mad one at that brought the true challenge. Mae could not believe she had actually traveled to Egypt before the time of Cleopatra. Last year she had traveled to 19th Century Paris having only scattered memories of her life in modern times. Somehow, their walk between dimensions seemed easier and less complicated, since she remembered everything. Maybe having a husband who possessed the staff of a powerful god really made a difference.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and drew her near. Warm lips caressed her temples and worked their way down her face and neck. This brought out the full range of emotions in response to the man’s arousing touch. Manly hands roamed her body and tugged at the fine linen that covered her. As Mae turned around in the arms of her husband, the yellow flames shone in his eyes as well the madness of the newly acquired power. Had she not looked into his face, she could have imaged the old Erik she knew and loved, but seeing the fires of a distant realm seething within, fear gripped her heart and she wanted to run or faint.

Through the door a voice called out the to the new Pharaoh. At the moment, the Pharaoh Harana-Kaf –Shat took Erik’s place and answered the voice that hailed him. In seconds, the door flew open and an Egyptian guard entered and went down on his knees with bowed head in reverence to his god, the Pharaoh.

They spoke in a language Mae had never heard before. Turning to her, the Pharaoh grinned wickedly and explained they must soon go to battle with another god, but before they did, he wanted know her again.

Pretty sure he meant, “know her” in the Biblical sense, Mae trembled. Going to battle with a god? What did that mean? From the documentaries she’d seen of television, a Pharaoh considered himself a god, so would he go to battle with mortal Pharaoh/king or truly another god?

Erik, who now called himself Harana-Kaf–Shat grabbed her roughly and threw her down upon the bed. Then turning to the soldier he commanded him to arise and send word that the battle would begin when Ra’s chariot of fire entered the sky again. The soldier arose, bowed his head and left the room.

Before the door closed, Harana-Kaf-Shat stood before his bride in nothing more than a loincloth. With ripped stomach and muscular chest he sank down upon her, tearing away her clothes. His flesh felt like fire and his sweat covered her as their bodies entwined.

Whether man or god, it didn’t matter. Her body ached for the man and she gave herself to him as he covered her mouth with his. At last they became as one, stirring an incredible ecstasy that caused the young woman to quiver with intense spasmodic response that seemed to last an eternity.

Guess everyone is busy. Hope someone finds time to come by and read.

I'm posting the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!


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CHAPTER 51

Abandoned Research Station in the Frozen Artic Tundra





Hathor ancient Egyptian Goddess of love, dance and music stood with bowed head, before mortals in the abandoned research station. Her image began to clear. As Hathor she was the protector of the pharaoh and his wife; a goddess loved by all, but in another form she became Sekhmet the goddess of destruction. Then how could anyone take her power, or at least, most of it?

Lucas McCleary, his nephew Antoine and Raoul scrambled to their feet. Hamilton sat on the floor and leaned against the wall. Dumbfounded, Count Philippe stood motionless, not sure if he could believe his own eyes. The Haitian lay lifeless on the floor before the weakened goddess. The two brutes in Philippe’s employ lay unconscious, while the young geek, hired to man communications, held on to the desk and pulled himself up. The old professor regained consciousness, but dared not open his eyes for fear of what he might see. Hearing the goddess scared him enough.

“Why do you come to us?” asked Lucas in a shaky voice.

“I need to regain my power,” came the reply. “If I stay like this much longer, I will become mortal.” The beautiful woman lifted her eyes to his. Indeed, such exquisite perfection of femininity Lucas had never before seen. In this he realized it was she who the Romans called Aphrodite and the Greeks Venus.

Raoul moved a little closer to get a better look. Never in his life had he beheld goddess, at least not knowingly. “How does a god or goddess lose their power?” he had to know.

“In my stupidity, I never thought the Staff would turn a mortal into a god. When Erik and I held the Staff together, we became one, in mind and power. But somehow he knew my secret name. A name never spoken, never written, and known only to me and my father, Ra. Yet this mortal said my secret name three times and left me like this. Then with the Staff he vanished.

You brought him here. You need to remove the Staff from his possession and give me back my power.” The ancient goddess no longer hung her head in shame, but ticked a determined look to Raoul, Lucas and all others conscious in the room.

“You must have seen what he did to us. How can we get the Staff from him?” Lucas shuddered at the thought of confronting the former Phantom, now a god.

In his mid-western twang, Hamilton mentioned the Lance of Longinus or Spear of Destiny. This was the same plan they had for Hathor before the power drain. At the moment, they had no way to bait Erik, since he whisked Mae away to a distant dimension.

In her weakened state, Hathor tried to shimmer into modern clothes, but she didn’t have enough power. With disgust and humiliation, she manually pulled up a chair and sat. Under her breath she grumbled about mortal disrespect and rudeness to her. In realization of this, Raoul begged her pardon and tried to smooth things over. After all, it’s not every day a deity drops by to chat.

“In earlier times, the gods were respected and worshipped. Wine and food were offerings to them,” she shook her head sadly.

Antoine brought her some water and a roast beef sandwich and gingerly, sat it on the table before her and backed away slowly. Now he regretted ever finding the journal.

Suspiciously, the lovely creature eyed the sandwich. Pointing to it, she looked up at Raoul.

“Sandwich. Roast beef,” Hamilton, now standing, answered the unspoken question.

“Roast beef? You offer a goddess roast beef like this? Where is the rest of the cow? In my time, we would roast the entire cow.”

“To be sure, your highness, but most of the time, we don’t roast the entire cow,” Lucas still had a quiver in his voice.

At that moment, Phantom Doone burst through the door with the Spear in hand. The cold, howling wind pushed in swirling snowflakes behind him. Grabbing the door he forced it shut.

Again, no one said a word. Everyone watched him brush the snow from his clothes. Then he pushed back the hood and unbuttoned his jacket. When he looked up, all eyes met his. Especially the humiliated goddess.

“Erik?” Hathor puzzled.

“Your highness…your greatness,” he stumbled for the right words.

“Something is not right. You do not have my power,” for once, she didn’t know what to say or think. Arising from the table, she moved those sultry charms closer to the man and examined him. Doone looked to Philippe and then to Raoul. Both gave a shrug.

With eyebrows knitted together, Phantom Doone replied, “Should I have your power?”
Then came the dawn. Suddenly, she realized the men were not the same. “It was not you? It was another that looked and talked like you. Together we held the Staff of Osiris and he became a god. Spoke my secret name three times and left me in this weakened state. You, who are you?” No longer in power, her questions came forth like a pitiful beaten down woman, a mortal woman. A mortal woman who helplessly became the target of a man’s ego.

Wide-eyed Hamilton immediately recognized the Spear, but said nothing. With mouth agape, Philippe sat down in the nearest chair.

Since no one had actually interacted in the adventures of either Erik or Phantom Doone, the journal spoke of such an incident, the same that Philippe had read.

Not sure how else to answer, Doone replied, “I am called Erik, a spectre, Opera Ghost, but most commonly referred to as the Phantom of the Opera.” Then he bowed to her with the respect a gentleman would have for a lady.

Very very good two chapters, my friend! It seems things are getting all the more interesting as time goes by. I wonder if Erik and Doone will come together at all? And I wonder if Erik will go back to normal at all? I hope so for Mae's sake...


Much love
D

Hello Slitherliggie! Yes, yes, those are good questions. Something to think about.

Once again I post a new chapter. Please R&R and see what happens this time. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 52

Abandoned Research Station in the Frozen Artic Tundra

The room fell quiet as Phantom Doone finished his introduction. Nothing made sense to the has-been deity. Quietly, she rose from the chair and gently touched the man’s face. Raoul took a step back as did Lucas and his nephew. No telling what a scorned woman might do.

The reporter grinned and shook his head. A plan hatched in his melon, so he leaned over and whispered it to Raoul. By now Philippe’s men had regained conscientiousness yet no one uttered a sound. Quietly, like a frightened mouse, the professor crept along the floor until he reached the doorway. Upon reaching the hall, he stood up and made a run for the front door.

The generator skipped several beats, so to speak, causing the lights to flicker creating an eerie effect as the humiliated goddess examined Doone.

The strange and sad tale of the Phantom of the Opera she knew very well, but could not understand why his face looked perfectly normal. One question after another fell from her lips. At the moment, she sounded and acted more like a mortal woman, confused, embarrassed and frightened.

No one, especially Phantom Doone could figure out her mood. Being an ancient powerful goddess for so many eons and then suddenly reduced to a helpless mortal was not only confusing, but also scary. All these years she’d depended upon her powers to go from place to place. Anything she wanted she received in a matter of moments. Now, who would feed and clothe her? How would she get from place to place? She couldn’t even change clothes without magick. And vengeance, how would she get vengeance on the man who took most of her power?

Stepping forward, Raoul bowed with reverence and asked Hathor if she would like to refresh herself. Perhaps a bath and a change of clothes. At this she smiled and accepted the offer, taking his hand, and allowing him to lead her away from the men.

Doone ticked a look to each man in the room. They all shrugged, including Philippe, who had forgotten the Spear for a moment.

“When she gets her powers back there will be hell to pay,” muttered Lucas. His nephew nodded in agreement.

“Can someone tell me what happened?” Doone wanted to know. Of course where he’d been and what he had in his hand was more interesting than who turned Hathor into a mortal.
Realizing Doone held a spear, Philippe reached for it and gave a lopsided smile. “At last,” he gasped. “Lance de Longinus, the Holy Spear, mine.”

Pulling the Spear from the count’s reach, Phantom Doone stepped away. “Not so fast my cousin. I demand to know what’s happening. Raoul, how did he get here? Another walk through dimensions?”

Then he looked to Hamilton, Lucas and Antoine with much confusion.

Eager to move on, Lucas introduced himself and his nephew. Looking to the reporter, he completed the introductions.

“Where is my doppelganger? He and his wife would have traveled with you,” the current Opera Ghost stared at Lucas so hard he unnerved the poor man.

No answer.

No one wanted to break the news to him. Most didn’t know who he was. Lucas puzzled, as did Philippe. The rest had their own questions, but decided to say nothing. Reentering the room, Raoul knew him, but stayed quiet.

Finally, Hamilton broke the silence. “I assume that’s ‘the’ Spear?”

“Yes, yes, pray tell. Is this the Holy Spear?” The Count sounded anxious.

“Answer my questions first? Where are Mae and her husband?” Doone feared saying Erik’s name would create more mental chaos.

Before the men could reply, Hathor stepped into the room wearing a blouse and a pair of jeans belonging to Mae. Flushed with anger, Doone hissed at Raoul.

“She had to change clothes. She’ll freeze to death dressed like an Egyptian,” Raoul explained. It made sense, but he still had feelings for Mae and seeing her clothes on another woman infuriated him.

Beating up the Viscount accomplish would nothing, so Phantom Doone moved to a table where he placed the Spear. Then he removed the crystal from the parker and set it on the table next to the Spear. After taking off the gloves and parker, he tossed them aside so he could have free movement to seek answer from the crystal ball. His mind full of anger for Raoul, he could barely think clearly. Taking his spell book caused many problems and he deserved an explanation. And Raoul deserved a whipping.

Philippe started to lay claim to the crystal, but Doone shot him a look that made him forget to protest. Instead he turned off the lights and set a lone candle near the crystal. After a few minutes of muttering in a dead language, smoke roiled within the enchanted sphere. In a moment the smoke cleared and the desert sands loomed up. Many men worked in unison to push a large stone block into a cart. They dressed in loincloths and small turbans about their heads. As the scene began to pan, if flickered and shifted all together. The desert vanished and there, sitting on a throne encrusted with precious gems was a man he barely recognized because of all the heavy eye makeup and the cobra headdress of a pharaoh that he wore. In his hand, he held a staff displaying two Kundalini rising up to meet a pinecone; a golden pinecone pulsing with an unearthly light. A dull hum vibrated from the staff, the same way it did when he held it for that brief moment. Without a question once again he beheld the Staff of Osiris.

Again Phantom Doone muttered something no one understood, not even the great Hathor. But before he could finish, the vision disappeared and the crystal grew dark.

Philippe had myriad questions falling from his lips. Even Antoine, who up until now didn’t say much, had even more questions.

With a stoic, unconcerned manner, Phantom Doone ignored them and looked to the weakened goddess and asked, “Where do you live when you have full power?”

The question struck her odd. She knew he wanted to know where the man in the crystal abode. But how could she explain that a god could live wherever they wanted…literally wherever. Generally they dwelled on earth in whatever form or dimension they chose. Time displacement was the best trick the gods could play on a mortal. A god possessed the power to control time, and at the moment, Erik, the real Erik was no exception. Without question, he had all the time in this world and the next…

No one has been by to see what Erik plans to do to Doone. Well hopefully everybody will be here this week.

Here is the next post. Please R&R. Enjoy!


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CHAPTER 53

Egypt 19th Dynasty-Pharaoh’s courtyard

Even in a desert various flowers bloomed everywhere Mae could see and smell their delicate sweet fragrance. Some even had vines entwined around the columns that supported the small roof that jutted out overhead. A small pond glistened in the warmth of the mid-day sun. From the valley below she could hear the slave masters shouting for the slaves to move faster. In the distance, sounds of Pharaoh’s army training one last time before going into battle.

Pharaoh Harana-Kaf-Shat, who used to be Erik, entered the courtyard, staff in hand. Nothing seemed real. Only dreams of the past showing up in movies could be like this. Harana-Kaf-Shat or Erik had the captain of the soldiers at this side. What battle could he be preparing for? Nothing made sense. As hard as she listened, the more she did not understand, for the men spoke in a tongue foreign to her ears.

A scroll passed from the captain of the army to Pharaoh Erik. Quietly she slipped behind him to get a better look at the scroll’s content. When she viewed the page, she realized why he didn’t try to hide it from her. The entire scroll displayed nothing but hieroglyphs.

Suddenly, Erik turned abruptly, startling his wife. “They are spells,” he explained. “They will help me defeat my enemy.”

With mouth agape, Mae just stared at her husband. Not knowing what to say. Why would Erik use spells? He never had since he’d been with her. The drastic change in the man frightened his wife. Even making love with him didn’t seem the same. Of course, she couldn’t complain. The stamina amazed her. The virility rocked her. Still and all, where was the man she loved and married? He didn’t appear as a monarch or deity, but more like a madman obsessed with power. His eyes still blazed with yellow flames and glowed in the dark. The thought made her shutter.

Mae hung her head and moved back to the flowers. Everywhere this Egypt spoke of polytheism, multiple deities. Peering over the wall and looking past the slaves building a pyramid, she could see the temple of Hathor to the right and further down to the left the temple of Isis. Erik had pointed them out to her earlier.

After the completion of the pyramid, he would have a temple built in his honor. Moving back toward the pond, poor bewildered Mae sat by the pond and gazed at deep into its depth. She wanted to go home. Legendary gods and ancient magick swirled all around her. What was she going to do? As she stirred the water with a dainty finger, the water filled with roiling dark clouds. Instinctively, she passed a hand over them and the clouds parted and there as plain as day, she saw Phantom Doone staring at her. Could he see her?

“Doone?” she whispered.

“I am here my beloved. Are you well? Are you safe?” he also whispered.

“I am well, but frightened. Erik is not himself. He commands untold of power and calls himself the god Harana-Kaf-Shat.”

“ No surprise there. I will come for you. But if for some reason you have an emergency, call upon Isis or Skadi.”

Then he gave her the summoning words.

For Skadi: Skadi, snow goddess, who runs with wolves and sings with the winter wind, lead us from the sands of time. Teach us to rely on ourselves, and light our way with the Northern Lights. Hail, Skadi!

For Isis: She of Ten Thousand Names, protect me in ten thousand ways.

He attempted to say more, but voices in the distance moved closer. Roiling clouds covered the view of Phantom Doone and all fell quiet.

The captain of the soldiers clicked his heels together and bowed in a salute to his pharaoh and god. Then he turned quickly and made an exit.

Pharaoh said nothing to his wife as he sat near a young sapling to review his hieroglyphs.

“Soon I will possess the Lance de Longinus, then I will truly be all powerful and unstoppable. No one will ever defeat me,” declared Erik aloud.

“Does not being a god automatically make you all powerful?” Mae tried to stop the tremor in her voice.

At this, the Pharaoh threw back his head and roared with maniacal laughter. “Foolish mortal woman. Even a god must earn their right to power. I will destroy anyone and anything in my way to achieve this right of passage.” Having made his statement, Harana-Kaf-Shat, aka Erik arose, rolled up the scroll and grabbed the Staff and held it toward his terrified wife.

“I am Harana-Kaf-Shat the god, he without beginning or end. All knowledge will be mine. All mankind and beast will bow to me. The elements will act upon my command. On your knees woman. You will worship your god.”

At this a solid beam of golden light shot out from the pinecone at the tip of the staff and struck Mae with multiple shafts of light. The strength of the beam felt so strong it knocked her to her knees. Like the electrocution of high volts of electricity the beams from the pinecone made the woman’s body shake and vibrate as though she were in the fit of a seizure.

Without regard to her well-being, Pharaoh Erik held fast to the Staff and did not relinquish the intense light until the woman’s eyes rolled back into her head and her hair began to smoke. When beam of light retracted, the woman collapsed on her face; smoke still swirling from her hair. In the distance the insane laughter of the god gone mad echoed its foreboding prophecy.

Sorry for the delay in commenting... Life has been getting in the way of my reading.

Anyhow, very good two chapters. So, Doone is making contact and attempting to be the hero... And what will happen when Erik loses his power, ad said power goes back to their original "owner"? What will the godess do to him, I wonder?


Please do continue soon, my friend, and know that I am always reading, even if I may not reply always. (your story is always open in a tab on my browser, )

Happy writing!
D

Slitherliggie! Good to see you. So happy you enjoyed the last two chapters.

Good question. Will the goddess regain her power? If yes, then what will she do to Erik?

For your reading pleasure, I give you the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 54

Abandoned Research Station in the Frozen Artic Tundra

The room hung heavy with silence as all attention turned to Phantom Doone gazing into the crystal ball. Whatever held his attention, the others could neither see nor hear. No one missed the old professor and the Haitian they moved to a cot. He appeared to be alive, but not conscious. Not knowing what to do, they just left the man there with a blanket over him.

Hathor, the nearly powerless goddess, reminded all that whoever had the Staff of Osiris would come for the Spear of Destiny. Most had the erroneous thought that the possessor of the Spear would automatically win the fight or whatever the competition there may be. Not true. The person possessing the Spear would have to undergo a series of violent encounters before reaching the final, ultimate one when the Staff became his.

As she spoke, visions appeared before Phantom Doone showing what he must conquer and where to find the battle site. The only way he could loose is having the Spear taken from him. The blessed Lance could heal and transport and of course assure the possessor of victory, but it could not offer immortality or protection, except if used as a traditional weapon. And yes, it could kill anything with supernatural powers, even deity.

The weakened goddess only had strength to teleport and make herself invisible. No more did she have immortality or invincibility. Presently, she would age and die like any mortal. Her pitiful special abilities seemed more like parlor tricks than power and they seemed to dwindle quickly.

As much as death crossed his mind, Doone had no wish to be ripped to shreds by the creature he saw in the crystal. Cerberus. According to Greek mythology the monstrous three-headed dog said to obey the commands of Hades and guarded the gates of the Underworld.






Like Cerberus, Anubis also known as its Egyptian counterpart and another dog as the gatekeeper was the Egyptian god of mummification, also called the Jackal-headed god said to escort the spirits of the deceased to where their hearts were weighed against the feather of Ma’at or feather of truth in the presence of Osiris (Hades).

If the heart weighed lighter than the feather of truth, Anubis guided the deceased through the afterlife, but if their heart weighed heavier; he brought them to another deity, which destroyed the soul.






The creature in the crystal morphed from the three-headed dog to Anubis who had the head of a jackal and the body of a man with skin black as ebony.

With unmovable resolve, Phantom Doone ticked a look to Count Philippe. “Give me the journal. I came here for two things the journal and book of spells. Unfortunately, I must now fight selected beings from the netherworld to keep the earth safe. I cannot have you reading the journal and then interfering. As you know, it will rewrite itself when you try to intercede.”

Philippe cast his eyes to the floor, knowing his cousin spoke the truth, yet he could not admit it. Long had he searched for the journal and dreamt of acquiring the coveted items of which it spoke. He couldn’t just give it up. No, no, no! He shook his head and held the water worn pages to his bosom as though they were a beloved child.

Without a second thought, Raoul mumbled an apology and looked to Philippe who had possession of the spell book as well. Doone appeared to understand.

With the cunning and mystic of the true Phantom, Doone looked to the count, Spear in hand. “There isn’t much time. I must have both the journal and the spell book. I cannot have you interfering. Only two will I take with me. Hathor and Raoul.”

A disappointed moan rumbled throughout the room. The reporter nodded to Raoul, who replied with a very discreet bow. No one saw what passed between them.

Despite the cold weather, Doone’s face flushed red. It had been a long time since someone defied him. If he had his way, it would be the last. Arising to his feet, he pulled himself up to his full height.

“I will not ask again, Philippe. Give me the journal and spell book. You will surrender it willing or I shall take if from you by force.” The statement sounded ominous and threatening. The count had no fear of the man he called family. Whether or not he stood before the true Phantom, the journal and spell book would have to be taken by force.

Looking upward, the count muttered something in Latin. Then with one big poof, he vanished inside a white cloud of smoke. Doone screamed out some obscenities and a threat that he’d get even with Le Comte de Chagny.

Quickly he jerked around and demanded Philippe’s men leave. After what they’d witnessed, the three scrambled for the exit. Lying motionless and quite, the Haitian still appeared unconscious. The only ones standing, Hamilton, Lucas McCleary and Antoine shook with fear.

“Do not attempt to follow us,” and with that, Phantom Doone tapped the end of the Spear’s shaft on the floor. A white/blue light enveloped him, Raoul and Hathor before they disappeared.

Antoine shuddered at the dramatic display of magick. A rustle from behind caught his attention. Slowly he turned and there on the cot, the Haitian sat straight up; eyes wide open, staring blankly.

Hamilton blanched white. “Please tell me he wasn’t dead. He just need a little rest and now he’s all better?” his voice sounded shaking and unsure.
Dead eyes turned toward him. Hamilton let out a scream. Antoine grabbed his uncle and pulled him toward the exit.

“Wait! We’re all acting like scared children. The young man was just recovering from the other Erik’s ill temper.” Finished Lucas, as the Haitian swung his legs over the side of the cot and got up, allowing the blanket to fall in a pile at his feet. After that, Lucas did try to talk to the man. Without response or recognition, Azacca moved with wooden steps toward them. Hollow eyes followed their actions as the three stumbled over each other to escape.

Upon reaching the hallway, the three hit the floor running. Reaching for the door handle, Hamilton yanked on it hard, to no avail. Locked from the outside. But how? Philippe? How could he? He went out in a cloud of smoke. His men? Maybe, but how could they lock the door from outside? Did they have a key? So many things raced through their minds.

Antoine recalled his first crush, a young blonde girl in several of his classes when he turned fourteen years old. Another stage of his life flickered by. The same happened to his uncle and the reporter. Their lives now passed before their eyes. That would only happen if they were going to die. When they looked back upon the dark, misshapen face of the Haitian lumbering toward them, this confirmed it. Death had come for them.

Several blood-curdling screams echoed throughout the abandoned research station before all went deathly quiet.

Oh, dear! Philippe has to be mad to defy Doone! And what's up with Azacca? Zombie, or posession? And what will happen to our trapped friends?




Please do continue again soon.


D

Dear Slitherliggie thank you for the kind words and you loyalty. I appreciate it.

I now post the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!


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CHAPTER 55

Crete, Greece present day

Warm rays of the sun kissed the rich green of the Cretan mountains as Phantom Doone made his way on foot dressed in a flowing black cloak and matching fedora. The spear he held tight, at the moment using it much like a staff to aid in moving up the mountain. Forging her way along the little used grassy path the beautiful cow goddess of Ancient Egyptian legend followed close behind dressed in slacks and a blouse with a denim jacket over it. The longer Hathor walked in mortality, the weaker her abilities to teleport and become invisible grew. Soon she would be completely mortal if she didn’t collect her divine powers. Already the harshness of the sun’s heat stung her skin. Surely she could feel wrinkles forming and her bones aching. Raoul trudged behind them in silence. The entire mishap occurred because of him. Occasionally Doone shot him an angry look, but said nothing. If he hadn’t stolen the spell book and jumped into the vortex, they wouldn’t be shuffling off to a horrible death by a mythical three-headed hellhound, which sported snakes for a mane. No doubt a fitting pet for Medusa.

At last they stopped when the ruins of a palace appeared in the distance. The Minoan palace, (where King Minos had dwelled above the infamous labyrinth that housed the Minotaur, a creature with the head of bull and the body of a man) gleamed in the sunlight. Its stone architecture reminded travelers of dry bones bleaching in a desert.

The sun seemed to move quickly as nightfall crept upon them like a thief in the night. In the woods a little higher than the palace a dark figure watched while six eyes glowing like hot coals. A subtle but distinct hiss like unto many snakes drifted on the twilight breeze. Cerberus.

The closer they got the silhouette appeared to morph from the three-headed dog to a man with the head of a dog. Instinctively, Doone held the Spear out toward the thing in the shadows and a dim light encircled them. The jackal-headed god Anubis stood before them with a lance of its own in hand. The blackness of its skin blended in with the shadows so that the only thing they could see was its glowing eyes and the white of the linen drawn tight around its waist with a plain simple belt. It towered over the three like a giant.

Hathor attempted to speak to it, but the creature ignored her. Doone whipped off his hat and cloak, and tossed them to the ground. By now the sky appeared unnaturally dark with the absence of moon and stars. Not even the lights of civilization pierced the darkness.

“DEATH BECOMES THEE LORD ERIK. TONIGHT YOU GO WITH ME!” roared Anubis. The words sent a shiver down Phantom Doone’s spine. This god of mummification intended to take him to the Underworld. Regardless of his depression and grim thoughts, looking upon the hellish glow of a demon god scared him nearly to death. His teeth chattered and his knees grew weak. Even the hand holding the Spear shook like a leaf touched by a frosty wind.

Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny pulled back the weakened goddess. Nothing in his heart or mind could give the least bit of comfort. Doone would die. The beast would then turn and tear them to ribbons.

For the first time in her life, Hathor felt sick to her stomach, her entire body trembled and she knew they would all expire. Nothing could stop the monster she once called brother. As a mortal, none of the gods or goddesses would acknowledge her. In her weakened state her pitiful life would end in an instant when Anubis decided.

“Keep to his left and aim for the heart. You only have one shot,” came the warning. Phantom Doone ticked a look to Hathor standing with Raoul off to the side. Certainly she was trying to help him, but the warning didn’t seem to change the mood.

The crisp whir of the lance just missing his ear sent Doone ducking, and then hitting the ground, only to come up rolling. As he did so, the lance came at him again. This time it grazed his shoulder and drew blood.

The creature sniffed the air like a wild animal. The scent of blood drove the beast insane for more. Before Doone had time to react, strong hands gripped both arms and lifted him high into the air. The crash against a tree truck rattled his brain and knocked the wind out of him. As he tried to pull himself up, he found his left leg could not move without severe pain and blood spilled out on the ground and all over the torn pant leg.

Again the maniacal deity sniffed the air and savored the sweet scent of the man’s life fluid. At this it threw back its head and howled the most haunting, horrifying howl they could ever imagine.

If the Spear assured the possessor victory then it had better bring it on soon. Any more battering or breaking of flesh would only fuel the beast’s lust to drain him dry.

The orbs like illuminated coals watch attentively as its wounded opponent drug away from the pool of blood that formed from his broken leg.

With wooden steps Anubis moved to the blood and got down on all fours and lapped it up greedily. Like a wild beast getting its first taste of blood, the thing threw back its head and howled again. Then bearing its teeth it morphed into the three-headed dog with the mane of snakes. The thing stood taller than any horse one could imagine. Each head growled and snapped at the three cowered in terror. Then baring its teeth in each head it sprang toward Phantom Doone. When the Spear hit the ground, the light went out. Screams and growls filled the night over and over until all became deathly silent.

Oh, my! This was one hectic chapter... I'd like to think Doone was successful, but then, would it really have been that simple??

Very good chapter, my friend, and brilliant writing! Please do continue again soon.


D

Thank you for the comments and kind words Slitherliggie. This next chapter is hectic as well.

Here is the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 56

Crete, Greece present day

The island of Crete set in pitch black while a silhouette of a man watched from a short distance. The growling and snarling started up. Scuffling and scrambling noises pierced the night. The soft hissing of many snakes mingled with the other sounds. Glowing eyes bobbed about in the foreboding darkness. From the sound of things, the humans had not been torn to pieces, yet.

As the figure drew closer, the growling subsided and Cerberus sniffed the air. It could smell the visitor. With the tap of his staff, the visitor’s identity became known.

Pharaoh Harana-Kaf-Shat aka the real Erik, still arrayed in his fine robes and linens from Ancient Egypt, entered the battleground. His staff illuminated the area. The three-headed dog bowed its heads to its master. Phantom Doone lay on the ground bleeding from the open wound of his broken leg for the bone had torn through the skin. One shoulder appeared like a mass of bloody flesh from the scratching and clawing of the morphing beast. Raoul cowered behind a tree, but Hathor, nowhere to be seen. Not knowing she came with them the real Erik thought nothing of her absence.

“My dear Cerberus, you aren’t playing by the rules. You’ve torn up your opponent way too soon. You must learn to toy with the enemy for a while. Make him suffer without ripping him up so quickly.”

Gently Erik patted the three heads and even the main of snakes. They reverenced their god for the moment and closed its eyes to enjoy the affection from its lord and master. Similar to a domestic pet.

With the three-headed beast distracted, Doone inched his way to the spear lying not too far distant. Yet, every time he tried to grab it, Erik or the beast looked his way.

This went on for a few minutes; only the rustling of leaves caught the canine’s attention. As it passed, Doone saw the perfect spot to sink in the spear, but the timing felt wrong. If he failed to the grab the spear, he was dead. If he missed the creature’s heart, he was dead. Hathor’s words rang over and over in his mind, “Aim for the heart, you only have one shot.”

One shot. From the flames in Erik’s eyes, Doone knew trying to reason with him was useless. The Flames of the Omnipotent burned from within. His body quivered from time to time. Lucas spoke the truth, Erik didn’t know how to control the power and it may very well consume him, literally. For the first time since assuming the real life role as the Opera Ghost did Doone feel fear. His heart pounded like a trip hammer.
Breathing grew laborious with the loss of so much blood. Reality began to blur before his eyes. He had to keep breathing, deep breathing. No matter what, he couldn’t die, not now. Mae’s life may be in danger with the maniacal husband she now had.

In a few minutes Cerberus returned with Raoul dangling from the mouth of one of the heads. Struggling seemed useless. The jaws, like a steel trap, locked on to his best dress coat. Beads of perspiration formed on his head. His stomach churned and he thought for sure he’d be ripped to pieces at any moment.

Nodding his approval, Erik grinned like an imp and then vanished in a huge cloud of whirling sand. At that moment, the light from the lance flooded the area, as Doone mustered all his strength to grab it and ram it straight into the heart of the three-headed dog. Instantly the jaws released its prey and drop Raoul like a hot potato.

Writhing in agony, the beast threw back its heads and let out a gut-wrenching howl as it crashed to the ground. Its tail slapped from side to side, as the monstrous canine thrashed about in its last dying throes.

Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny scrambled to Doone and pulled him out of harms way. Together they watched the thing take its last breath before it expired. As soon as Doone pulled the spear from the corpse, flames reached up from the earth and engulfed it. In a matter of minutes nothing remained of the dog.

The glow of the Lance ran through poor wounded Doone. When the light returned to the Spear, his body healed. The broken leg and the ravaged shoulder now made whole restored all the current Phantom’s health and strength. Sadly, nothing could be done for his shredded suite, but he was alive. For him the Spear did not assure his victory, he made his own destiny. He only used the spear to destroy his opponent. No magick there; only strategy and Divine intervention and not divine like Erik who now swaggered as all self appointed rulers and dictators do.

Flabbergasted Raoul marveled at his healing. The Spear really did heal.

Suddenly, Doone realized the weakened goddess no longer graced their presence.

“Hathor?” he looked to Raoul, who only shrugged.

“I think she became invisible. She tried to help, but she only had the strength to make herself disappear,” replied le Vicomte.

They called out to her repeatedly, but no answer. Did Erik catch her and say nothing to them?

Finally they gave up and moved down toward the palace ruins. A faint female voice whispered something in a language not spoken in thousands of years.

Woah, hectic! This chapter sounds like my life at the moment...


Geat writing, my friend! Please continue again soon!!



D

My goodness Slitherliggie, I hope you don't have three-headed dogs to battle or a jackal-headed god to fight. What do you have in your life that is hectic like Doone's?

Thank you for the kind words. Here is the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 57

Crete, Greece present day The Palace of King Minos

By now the sun peaked over the horizon. The horrors of the night faded as the birds greeted the day with songs of happiness and peace. The hillsides filled with lush green grass made its way to the deserted Palace of King Minos of legend that allegedly kept the Minotaur in the maze beneath.





The story goes that a white bull was sent from Poseidon in answer to King Minos’ prayer, but a jealous Aphrodite caused Pasiphaë, Minos’ wife to fall in love with the bull to punish the king. This resulted in the birth of the creature said to have the head and tail of a bull and the body of a man. However, due to this unnatural coupling, the creature fed off of humans. By order of King Minos Daedalus, a skilled craftsman and artisan, best remembered for making wings for his son Icarus to fly created the labyrinth to house the beast.




The columns of the palace were painted red as compared to the traditional Greek. Phantom Doone and Raoul made note as they passed numerous columns on their way to the throne room. Clearly Doone had no wish to fight another monster, but according to the crystal, if he wanted to obtain the Staff of Osiris, he had to accept a number of challenges as in ancient times. The man who wins all of the challenges would then be the worthy opponent of a god.

A number of brightly colored frescoes led the way. Somehow the palace looked as though King Minos still occupied the premises.





Nothing looked decayed, crumbling or worn away. What caused this transformation? The two men looked at each other in puzzlement. Raoul literally trembled with fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of magick, or maybe fear of anticipating the next challenge.

As the drew closer to the throne room, Phantom Doone stopped short and turned to Raoul, le Vicomte de Chagny and said, “You don’t have to come with me. I never fathomed the danger I have put you in until Hathor vanished and together you and I faced Anubis/Cerberus alone. We’ve had our differences, but I do not wish for your death. Please stay here. I shall return.”

Raoul protested. No matter what, he held much honor in accompanying Doone to battle.

“I know I don’t have to come with you, but you asked me to as someone you could trust. I respect that. You and I both care for Mae and at the moment Erik is not the loving husband she married. Please allow me the honor of going into battle with you, fighting shoulder to shoulder,” his eyes dropped to the floor as he corrected the last request. “Perhaps not shoulder to shoulder, I’m not as good at combat as you, but I can help, truly I can.” His eyes showed sincerity and fear, this time, fear of losing a dear friend.”

For a moment, Phantom Doone said nothing; he just smiled and patted Raoul’s shoulder. As they moved on, no one said a word, until they reached the throne room. The crystal flashed many images before his eyes, and one of them was this room and the throne itself.






Vibrant colors of crimson, blue and white mingled together creating a delicious background of plant and animal life. The throne, a somewhat crude stone chair set in the midst of this colorful arrangement of artistic treasure.

Nothing puzzled le Vicomte more than watching the Phantom do what he seemed to know to do while he stood is complete dismay. Doone gingerly touched the wall behind the throne. Then slowly, he moved his fingers gently along the frescos and down to the floor.

When their eyes met, Phantom Doone motioned for Raoul to come closer. “Help me move the stone chair,” Doone asked with confidence. Poor confused Raoul moved to the crude stone chair where he halted a moment, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. Grabbing his arm, Doone pulled him to his side and said, “Push.”

“Push?”

“Come, come now. Push hard. I am fairly certain that the entrance to the labyrinth lies beneath the palace.” Raoul positioned himself on one end of the chair and together they pushed and pushed. The stone wouldn’t budge.

A normal man had no chance of moving the throne except by a small explosive charge. On the other hand, provoking a god to use his energy might be better or…Doone gripped the Spear so hard his knuckles turned white. Then, like instinct, he tapped the floor with the shaft.

Nothing happened.

“Did it run out of petrol?” Le Vicomte tried to laugh at his own bad joke. Doone didn’t answer.

Taking a deep breath, Phantom Doone mumbled something in Latin. Then he tapped the Spear’s shaft on the floor and said a loud voice, “Praecipio tibi, ut moveatur. (I command you to move.) Moveatur! Esto sustulit!”

A subtle, but low rumble sounded and the floor moved beneath their feet. Again Doone repeated the tapping and the Latin commands. Another rumble rippled beneath their feet, and the stone chair ground and groaned to move, but as it did soon, an entrance leading downward appeared. Stone steps led deep into the depth of darkness as the two men peer into the black hole. This time, Doone shuddered and his stomach twisted up in knots. The musty stench of decay and the absence of fresh air hit their lungs and made them cough.

“Here, you’ll need to tie the end to the throne or we’ll never find our way back,” Le Vicomte handed him a ball of twine. Taking the twine, Doone looked to Raoul, who shrugged. “I called it up using one of the spells from your spell book.”

“Remind me to go after Philippe for that book once I destroy the Minotaur.” And with that, Doone made a rather large loop and threw it over the chair. Testing the strength of the twine, he tugged on it. Unlike string, the twine felt strong and sturdy and should not break easily.

Now they hung on to the twine and made their way down the stone steps. Stone sconces held wooden torches. The men each took one and lit it with a match. Why Raoul had matches on him, Phantom Doone would never know. He wanted to ask, but he feared the answer.


Upon reaching the end of the steps, they began to travel the twists and turns of the underground maze. The walls seemed to close in after a while and this was when Raoul started to talk and even sing. It got his mind off the life-threatening situation they faced. The air grew more and more ghastly while each turn brought them closer to death. It seemed like they had been walking forever. By now the singing got on Doone’s nerves.

“Under normal circumstances I would admire your singing, but for my sanity, would you please stop.” Phantom Doone ticked an annoyed look to his new friend.

Raoul stopped short with the twine in hand. “Then you’ve traded your fear for annoyance? Success! We are no longer afraid.”

“Just stop singing.” The moment he words fell from his lips, an earth moving bellow shook the labyrinth. When the earth stopped moving, Doone mumbled, “Oh we’re still afraid. Just be quiet and don’t give our whereabouts away!” He ticked a look to poor terrified Raoul, who now paled as white as a ghost and teeth chattered as though a wisp of cold air chilled him to the bone.

As they followed where the bellowing led them, they found themselves in a large room somewhere in the center of the maze. On a rather large boulder sat a curious creature with the body of a man and the head and tail of a bull. When it saw them, it stood and pulled itself up to its full height and glared down at them with illuminated eye sockets that looked like old scratch himself.

Oh, I've been very busy with my studies, and the exams of my students coming up - not to mention my own. Haven't been getting around to much of anthing lately. So I guess my three-headed dog would be maths at the moment - LOL. And the jackal headed god; stress methinks. It's not funny to have to get 40 kidz through their final year in school, ey...


Very good chapter - I really like the pics, makes the story so vivid!

Please continue again soon!

D

Well goods to be busy and have work. I really don't think you life can be compared to a fight with Cerberus or Anubis.

Glad you enjoyed this chapter and the pics. Thanks for your loyalty and kind words.

Here is the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 58

Crete, Greece present day The Labyrinth





The stench of decay and putrid waste permeated the stagnate air around them. Raoul held a kerchief to his nose in hopes of filtering the smell. Phantom Doone held a hand to his nose trying hard not to breathe too deeply. Besides their torches, other ones circled the room in crude scones. The chamber appeared as the largest area in the labyrinth, with rugged stone walls carved with images of the Man-bull and other humans from ancient Greek lore. The Minotaur or Bull of Minos glared at the two intruders and to their surprise it spoke.

“I am called Asterion, better known as the Minotaur. Why have you invaded my home Erik, known as the Phantom of the Opera?” Its voice roared like the rushing of many waters. The glint of the illuminated orbs sent a shiver down the spine of the men. This time, Doone swallowed hard. Was he really meant to fight this thing? He didn’t want to. All the time he had longed for death only to find that looking at it face to face made him take back his wish to die.

“How do you know my name?” asked Doone.

The Minotaur ignored the question. “You and I share much in common, Phantom. We both live beneath humanity, in a dark smelly labyrinth. Did you know I was hungry and have not eaten since yesterday?” Roared the beast. “Small animals are not as tasty as human flesh. Which one of you will fight me first? It has been a long time since anyone challenged Asterion.” The Minotaur slowly advanced causing the men to back up quickly.

“One of you I will keep as a companion. For I grow lonely down here all alone. The other I will eat now.” Asterion the man-bull tried to circle the men, but Phantom Doone motioned for Raoul to stay near the rocks and keep his back to the exit. Certainly he would have to engage in combat with the beast, but there was no sense in having Le Vicomte ripped to shreds. Then almost at the same time, both men realized the Minotaur said he’d keep one as a companion. Exactly what did he mean by that? Doone ticked a look to Raoul who shuddered at the thought.

With the Spear of Destiny in hand, the new champion moved away from Raoul in hopes the Minotaur would follow, and it did.

From Greek mythology, Theseus wrestled the man-bull and killed it. From the size and height of the monster, Doone never entertained the thought of doing the same. The muscles of the thing could crush him without effort. For a moment both man and hybrid bull circled the chamber as they mirrored each other’s moves.

At 6’4” the current Phantom had to look up to the demon bull that snorted and grunted while puffs of dark smoke streamed from its nostrils. A few swipes from the monstrous hands soon displayed the clumsiness of the thing. The thump, thump, thump of the heavy footsteps shook the chamber loosening bits of rock here and there. Some particles of dust and shards of rocks filled the already ghastly air and smashed into the floor of the cave.

The man-bull spoke no more, but with clumsy moves tried to backhand its opponent or pick him up. Anticipating its moves, the current Phantom did several bob and weave moves to dodge the beastly hand.

With a thing this big, Doone didn’t want to provoke it too much, or he would be its next meal. However, the quick and unexpected move of the Minotaur snatching up a hefty boulder in one hand and tossing it in his direction caught him off guard. Before he could completely move out harms way, the huge monolith sideswiped his hip and sent him to the hard rocky floor of the chamber. The fall jarred his entire body, especially the head. His teeth rattled and so did his brain, sending the spear clattering to the ground. This made the monster laugh, if the deafening sound from its mouth could be called a laugh.

Reaching for the spear made him pull the strained muscle in his side and hip. Sharp stinging shots of agony inflamed Doone’s entire leg and hip. The man-bull lumbered toward him holding an even bigger boulder in both hands as he raised it over its head.

As the rock came crashing down, Phantom Doone rolled out of the line of fire, despite the searing pain in his leg.

The only thing Raoul thought to do was to distract the beast while Doone retrieved the spear. Tossing small rocks at the other side of the room, did get the monster’s attention, but not long enough. As soon as Doone rolled over for the spear, the creature snatched it up between two fingers as if it were a needle or some toy.

With much curiosity, Asterion, the Minotaur cocked its head from side to side, as it held the spear up to the dim light of the torches. Then it ticked a look to the agonized man lying on the floor of its cave-like chamber. In the background, the voice of le Vicomte screamed out as small rocks bounced off the monster like pebbles.

First it started like a distorted chuckle, which grew in volume. Soon the entire chamber shook with a deafening roar of laughter from Asterion.

“Foolish man tries to kill Minotaur with needle,” laughed the monster. Then without a second thought it thrust the spear into Doone’s side. The horror of death and the sharp burst of unbearable pain engulfed the young man’s body. Blood spouted out like a fountain. Raoul screamed and jumped up and down trying to distract the beast, but nothing seemed to keep it from killing its prey.

Was this any different from facing Anubis/Cerberus? Yes, with them he only had a wounded shoulder and a horribly broken leg. At the moment he was bleeding to death as the beast held the spear tight between its fingers pushing the spear deeper and deeper into the human, twisting it, making the spearhead rip and tear into the flesh.

Everything around Doone faded slowly. He had failed. The quest was all for nothing. Breathing grew laborious and his body grew cold. Now he knew what dying felt like. Tears came to his eyes as three words slipped from his quivering lips, “God forgive me.”

Oh, my, word... Doone's got killed?? Hmmm, not so easily I'm sure... At least I hope so...


Once again a very good chapter, my friend. I enjoyed this chapter very much. And five stars on researching the mythology so thoroughly, I'm impressed...


Please do continue soon, I'm at the edge of my seat!!



D

So happy to see you Slitherliggie and thank you for the kind words. Yes, it does seem like Doone is done for.

Let's see what happens in the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 59

Abandoned Research Station in Artic

In the semi-darkness near the exit of the research station huddled Lucas McCleary, his nephew Antoine and Hamilton, the reporter, cringing and shuddering in fear of the impending doom approaching in the form of Azacca the Haitian they though might be resting. There he stood with the light at his back making him appear as a silhouette. The eerie iridescent orbs pierced the shadows. A couple of shots rang out as Hamilton pulled the trigger of his Steyr GB double action hand gun, but the zombie-like creature seemed to absorb them. It barely reacted as the lead crashed into its chest.

The wind howled and moaned around the eaves of the building as something shuffled just outside the door. Antoine shot his uncle a startled look of terror, which his uncle returned. Something approached and jiggled the door handle.

Ticking a look back at the Haitian, it shuffled like a zombie without a sound and without emotion, arms outstretched like the Frankenstein monster ready to attack.

This time the reporter unloaded a round of bullets into the dead man, but it just kept coming.

At that moment, the door exploded into shambles. Le Comte de Chagny stood in the doorway of the shattered entrance and tossed something at the feet of Azacca who now reached for the throat of Lucas McCleary. Grabbing his head in pain, the Haitian staggered back and stared at the doll lying at his feet. It looked like him and wore a suite made from one of his handkerchiefs, but a long needle pierced its head. With one agonizing scream Azacca dropped his hands to his side, stiffened and toppled over like a wooden soldier.

“He was dead, but I do not know who called him back as a zombie. I found the doll at the château propped up against the fireplace.”

No one said a word. Hamilton caught Lucas’ eye. Somehow they couldn’t believe Philippe.

“Quickly. Come with me,” the count retrieved the doll and tucked it into his pocket. “I have been reading the journal. We must find the labyrinth of the Minotaur. The beast has killed my cousin, your friend Erik. The spell book contains a spell that will enable us to walk through dimensions and change the outcome.”

Lucas protested. Phantom Doone had asked them specifically to stay away.

“Remember laddie, he did write the journal. If he died, well he couldn’t very well write anything if he were dead.” Antoine nodded in agreement. The count frowned and hooked an arm around the boy’s neck. Antoine struggled, but he couldn’t break the iron grip.

“You will do as I say. My men are gone, so I will need your services, like it or not. If you refuse, I kill the boy.”

Panic filled the young man as he struggled to pull the arm from around his neck. The oxygen slowly diminished as the grip tightened. The more he squirmed, the more pressure he felt on his throat. Fear and light-headedness overtook the boy and he nearly passed out.

Not wanting to upset the count anymore, Hamilton put away his gun and hastily agreed. Then poked Lucas in the ribs with an elbow. A dirty look shot his way, but the reporter felt assured that Lucas got the message.

Once again Philippe chanted a spell in Latin. A vortex rippled before them encompassing the entire doorway. Still holding the boy by the throat, he gestured for the others to go first. As soon as they did, he followed with the boy, but little did he know that Azacca rose straight up, with arms at his side. Empty hollows detected the vortex and prompted the feet to move. The instant he melted into the ripples, the opening disappeared.





Tomb-like silence fell upon the station. A faint whisper trailed on the wind as it whistled and moaned around the empty structure. The plaintive words sounded garbled. No doubt it came from a woman filled with much sorrow. A dim figure shimmied into view and then faded, while the sobbing of a grief-stricken woman faded into the night.

****************************

Since Philippe had very little experience walking through dimensions, he didn’t know about the in between, a place that separated one dimension from another and the horrors that lay within. Also, he had difficulty navigating to where he wanted to go. The others had even less experience and knowledge so unfortunately they had to rely on the count.

Since Philippe wasn’t sure of anything in this odd place of existence, he had everyone sit while he searched through the spell book and the journal.

Finally, Lucas put forth his hand and asked for the journal. At first, the count refused, but Lucas appealed to his sense of logic.

“Listen my dear count, you hold the spell book and obviously all the cards, so to speak. All I’m trying to do is help. If I recall correctly, Mae said if one remains here too long they will forget their former life, condemning them to remain between dimensions for all eternity without a past or a future.” With outstretched hand he motioned for the journal.

Reluctantly the count handed it over. What Lucas said made sense.

At last McCleary had his hands on the journal again. As he read, he understood the urgency Philippe felt, but Phantom Doone had written the entry, which read like he had died. Unless the laws of nature had changed, dead men don’t usually finish writing an account of their own death after they’re dead, or do they?

Thumbing to the end of the journal the words on the pages appeared as fading shadows and this was not from water damage. Depending on what they do would change the entries. Lucas realized this, but Philippe didn’t.

“We can’t interfere with the Phantom’s quest. Look,” Lucas showed the count the shadowy words. “We are not part of the quest. Just being in Crete where he is right now could cost him his life.”

“Are you so blind that you can’t see if we don’t interfere, he will die. According to the entry before these fading words, Erik is dead. Killed by the Minotaur,” Philippe retorted.

Not thinking to take the journal back, the count motioned for all to arise and move on. He knew they had to get out of the in between soon, for he began to lose his memories; of who he was and where he came from.

******************************

In the lair of the Minotaur Phantom Doone lay dying at the feet of the man-bull, who laughed at the impending death. Not much happened around there, so killing one’s prey made for much sport.

With tears in his eyes Raoul, le Vicomte de Chagny called out to Hathor. “Please Hathor, come out here and save our friend. What kind of goddess are you? The man fought to save the world; to give you back your powers, but like an arrogant child, you pout and hide. Come out Hathor!”

For a moment, he sobbed quietly. He knew if made himself accessible to the Minotaur, he too would be dead, or good as. The pangs of losing a dear friend made his body quiver and his stomach burn.
Then in the quiet of his own grief, Raoul heard a soft female voice. “I will distract the beast. Make the Phantom hold the spear with both hands and pull it out from his own side.”

Startled, he looked around for the owner of the voice, yet he saw no one.

“Go quickly Vicomte, lest he die,” urged the disembodied voice.

In a moment, the flames of the torches flared up to the high ceiling of the cave, accompanied by chains rattling and very loud moaning sound. The ears of the Minotaur perked up and he moved quickly to the sconces to find out why the torches flared and where the ruckus came from.

Le Vicomte rushed to the side of his dying friend. Yes, he now called Doone his friend. Quickly, Raoul picked up the man’s hands and placed them on the spear still lodged in his side. Panic gripped his heart as he stared into glazed eyes. The breathing grew shallow. He had gone into shock and with the blood loss, fading fast.

“Doone, you can’t die. You are assured victory. Hold on to the spear and pull it out,” Raoul shook the dying man gently. When gently didn’t work, he went to shaking him vigorously.

“If you die, so will Mae. You can’t save her if you are dead. Pull the spear out. It won’t work if I do it.”

Mae can’t die, thought the bleeding man. No matter what, he still loved her, even more than Christine. Suddenly, the hands around the spear pulled it from his side and just like when he removed the it from the dead three-headed dog, the spear glowed and the light ran through his broken body. When the light returned to the Lance it stopped glowing and Phantom Doone healed. Looking to Raoul the men hugged each other in happiness of being alive.

“Go now. Quickly. I cannot entertain the monster much longer,” whispered the disembodied female voice.

The two men ran for the entrance, but just as they attempted to leave the chamber, the real Erik, dressed in his pharaoh robes, appeared before them with a ball of twine in hand that connected to end of the one Raoul held.

“Do not forget your twine, gentleman. I found it carelessly wrapped around the throne. I thought you might need it,” he finished by tossing the twine to Raoul.

“No, you didn’t…” Raoul’s voice trailed. How would they ever find their way out of the labyrinth?

The real Erik hailed the Minotaur, calling it by name. Hathor had to let the distractions die, so the flames of the torches went back to normal and the noises ceased. Erik laughed like a madman as he disappeared into the dark of the exit. The only problem was the maze like structure did not have one straight path as it should have. There were several other paths that broke off from the main one. Without the twine marking the way, they’d be trapped forever and now the Minotaur would have two for dinner.

The roar behind them sent chills down their spines and a lump to their throats.

Like space debris dropping from the heavens, so came Philippe again with an arm around Antoine’s throat, with Uncle Lucas and Hamilton in tow. They all hit the rocky floor pretty hard, but bounced back like rubber balls.

“We are here to save you,” cried Philippe.

“Save yourself,” screamed Phantom Doone and he and Raoul took off down the dark exit where Erik had disappeared.

The bellowing made the newcomers slowly turn around to face the man-bull salivating at the mere thought of the feast he would have. Six for dinner made it more exciting then two.

As it lumbered toward the men, they all screamed in unison and took off running down the exit as torches and candles lit themselves.

Where is everybody? soonchannel? Slitherliggie?

Well, hopefully they all return. I am posting another chapter.

Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 60

Labyrinth of the Minotaur

The tunnels within the labyrinth wound around and around. It seemed like forever. To le Vicomte the path to the exit seemed much longer then when they first came in. Everyone kept running in hopes the monster behind them would not catch up. Philippe thought he had remembered the ‘walk through dimension’ spell by memory, but because his heart beat so fast, his mind could not recall. Thoughts of survival kept him moving quickly. The hideous bellowing of the Minotaur almost deafened them. The tunnel rattled and bits of rocks rained down on the terrified men each time the beast roared, bellowed or said anything.

It enjoyed the chase. This was the most fun the Minotaur had had in ages. Fear fed the ego. It still had the skill and tact to terrorize its prey before eating them. The chase whet the appetite and got the adrenaline pumping.

Like Philippe, Phantom Doone thought he had the spell to ‘walk through dimensions’ down pat, but not when eminent death nipped at their heels. He could smell the fetid breath of the creature, which engaged his gag reflex.

As they rounded a corner, they realized they’d been running in circles. They found themselves back in the torched lit chamber of the Minotaur’s abode.

Trapped!

The entire chase and trickery tickled the monster’s funny bone and made it roar with laughter as it blocked the exit with a giant boulder. Bits of rock and shale peppered the men as the chamber trembled from the creature’s laugh.

Lucas McCleary and nephew Antoine held each other as they huddled against the nearest boulder on the far side of the cave. Hamilton looked to Raoul and nodded. He had a plan, but it would only work if he had help. Assuming he needed a diversion, le Vicomte uttered another prayer to the nearly powerless goddess, Hathor.

Staying invisible seemed the safest thing to do since she had followed everyone back into the Minotaur’s lair.

The beast hummed a tune, if one could call that grating sound vibrating from its throat at tune, while it brought out some wood and arranged it the corner for a fire before placing a huge iron cauldron over it to make stew.

A faint whisper tickled Raoul’s ear. “Remember Ulysses.” What did that mean? He had no idea. They couldn’t move the boulder from the exit and now the fire roared beneath the iron pot. So what did Ulysses have to do with this? Who was Ulysses?

Once again a faint whisper said, “Remember Ulysses.”

Phantom Doone hadn’t noticed it before, but a stony staircase lead straight up into the ceiling of the cave where a rather large opening led upward and outside. Maybe twenty stories up, the light of day peered back at him. That was why the Minotaur could breath so deep into the maze and why it could cook food. The smoke would escape through the opening.

“Remember Ulysses,” whispered Raoul in Doone’s ear.

“Huh?”

“Does that mean anything to you? Remember Ulysses,” Raoul repeated.

Not sure what Raoul was saying to Phantom Doone, Hamilton went on with his own plan and pulled his GB Steyr handgun, but Philippe stopped him and shook his head. As much as the old count had wanted all of them dead or out of his way, he could not just let the reporter ruin things and have the Minotaur eat them all. From the whispers between his relatives, he knew they would come up with something.

“Think man, what Ulysses would have to do with our predicament?” Raoul tried to probe Doone’s memory.

For one thing, Phantom Doone knew he would have to kill the Minotaur before he could escape the lair and move one. Running had not been a good idea, but it seemed like one at the time.

Nowhere in history, legend or myth ever had a story of anyone named Ulysses trapped in the labyrinth with the Minotaur. According the Greek mythology, Theseus wrestled the beast to the death and won. How did Ulysses fit in?

Suddenly, it dawned on him. Ulysses or Odysseus in Greek fought the Cyclops. Now he knew what to do.

At that moment, the Minotaur ticked a look to the present Phantom and asked how was it he lived.

“How is that you live, little man? I killed you. I know you died. No one lives when the Minotaur pokes a stick in their stomach. Magick brought you to life?” the creature stopped seasoning his boiling pot of water and stared at its prey.

Swallowing hard, Doone replied, “I live to serve you, master. You cannot eat without wine and I see no wine here.”

“Wine?” the Minotaur looked thoughtful. “I have no wine. I have not tasted wine in many, many years. I like wine. How can you get me some wine?”

“Why, why we would have to make it for you. Nothing tastes better than new wine,” Doone stammered a bit trying to place his words just right. “There is a vineyard not far from here…”


“NO!” roared the man-bull. “You will try to run away from Asterion. I will get the grapes. Then, he moved to pull another pot from behind another boulder. “This is for the grapes. I’ll be back. I want wine!” And with that, the Minotaur rolled away the boulder and passed through the doorway into the darkened tunnel. It didn’t even try to block the entrance since he knew they could never find their way out.

“Wine?” questioned the reporter. “We’re going to make the thing wine? Are you nuts?”

“Remember the story of Odysseus and the Cyclops? He made the thing drunk and put out its eye. Only I will have to kill the beast before we can be free of this place.” The current Phantom looked defiant.

“By the way, there is an opening up that hole in the ceiling,” Doone continued pointing to the stone stairway.

Lucas and Antoine moved closer. They felt a little better with the Minotaur gone and a possible plan brewing.

Hamilton moved to the stairway with Philippe in tow. Twenty stories up made a tedious and challenging climb if needs be. Nevertheless, the smile of daylight warmed the soul and brought a cheer to sullen faces.

After an hour passed, the beast returned with a basket full of luscious deep, purple grapes. It poured a third of the monstrous basket of fruit into the pot and then sat down on its favorite stone and ordered wine.

Looking to the men, Doone reminded they would have to trample the grapes with their bare feet. Philippe hated the plan, but it was better than getting boiled for stew.

Asterion set a large pan of water before them and few pieces of cloth so they could wash their feet. After the washing, the men climbed into the pot of grapes and began to trample, as they did, Doone urged Raoul to sing.

“What? Sing?” The thought horrified the man.

At the moment, Phantom Doone didn’t explain or argue, but burst into a jolly, happy song. The rest followed his lead, even the count. This put the monster in such a good mood, it belted out a tune and swayed from side to side as he sat watching his wine being made.

After a few moments of intense song and trampling, Doone climbed out of the pot, grabbed a stone cup and filled it with the new wine.

With mock ceremony, he offered the drink to the man-bull. In haste, the beast grabbed up the cup and gulped down its content.

“Wine, good,” announced the Minotaur. “More! Asterion wants more wine!” the roar grew so loud not only did it deafen the men, but more pebbles and shale peppered them.

“Not so loud, my lord. You don’t want rocks in your wine,” reminded Doone. The beast nodded its bull-like head and started singing again.

After several rounds like this and a few more cups of wine, the monster nodded off and lay snoring against the immense stonewall. Quietly Doone slipped out of the pot and grabbed the Spear of Destiny. Now seemed like the best time to do what had to be done. He crept as close as he could and raised the spear ready to plunge it into the heart of the monster, when it woke up and stared at the man and then the Spear.

Woah! I'm so glad Doone isn't really dead!! And I do apologize for not commenting last week, I did read, but the Three-headed dog of my life has been keeping me so busy, I have barely had a chance for myself these last two weeks...

And justas a heads up - I will probably be a little bit quiet in the next two weeks, but I'm studying for exams, so please forgive me?

Once again, brilliant writing here, my friend! I'm, as always, curious to see what happens next and what is in store for my favourite band of characters!

Happy writing!
D

Ciao.

Thank you for another great episode. A lot has happened here while I was gone.

Amazing writing here and please update more!

S

It's so good to see Slitherliggie and syoonchannel together again. Glad to see you both. syoonchannel has not been here like forever. Guess you have been busy.

I'm pleased that you and Slitherliggie enjoyed my story. Yes, a lot has happened. There is more to come. I should have another chapter this weekend.

Hope to see both of you more often.

Have a great day!

Thank you to Slitherliggie and syoonchannel for their kind words and their support.

Here is the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!


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CHAPTER 61

Labyrinth of the Minotaur

The two stared at each other a moment, man and beast. The Minotaur still felt the groggy effects of the new wine. One rule Phantom Doone broke, never look into the eyes of your victim until you’ve got him at your mercy. This could have cost him dearly, for when he looked into the half closed orbs he almost felt sorry for it. Then he recalled being on the pointed end of the Spear only moments ago. The creature did not hesitate in pushing the Spear in deeper and twisting it, savory each moment of Doone’s agony. Before the man-bull could gain its full faculties, he plunged the Spear deep into the heart of the creature.

A painful, astonished bellow rattled the chamber and nearly brought down the labyrinth. Rocks and shale rained like a torrential down pour. This time Doone stood at the other end of the pointy object and shoved it deeper into the heart of the beast. Blood spouted everywhere. It thrashed about and tried to pull out the spear, but in the end, it fell limp and quiet.

When the current Phantom pulled it out, the entire Spear glowed and hummed with the same strange power it had before. The vibration of such tremendous energy surged through Doone’s body. Indeed he stood victorious and with more strength then ever before.

The exit glowed with a powerful light escorting the men from the underground maze. Lucas and his nephew practically ran into the palace as they emerged from the opening beneath the throne. Upon entering the room, the reporter and Philippe gave each other dirty looks while Raoul and the new champion of the world brought up the rear.

As soon as the men moved the throne back in place, Phantom Doone turned to his so-called-cousin and demanded the spell book and journal.

Taken aback, Count Philippe stood dumbfounded before all. What could he do or say to a man who just killed a mighty beast of mythical and national fame? The same man that now held the Spear of Destiny in his hands. No matter what he did, Doone would turn out the victor and he, a pitiful man of petty greed. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t want to give up anything. The Spear he coveted. Rightfully he should be holding it in triumph, instead the man he called cousin held it and now demanded the only clues he had to obtaining unimaginable power. Long had he dreamt of being omnipotent and omniscient.

“Philippe, give me my journal and the spell book. I will not ask a third time. Your men are either dead or just gone. At the moment, the conflict is between you and me. Power of this magnitude no mortal can maintain or control. Because of how I wrote the journal using enchanted ink, it will continue to rewrite itself as long as you interfere. The spell book will be to your destruction.” With defiance and self-confidence, the victor glared and held out one hand for the items demanded.

Shaking his head, Philippe backed away holding the journal and spell book close. “I cannot give them to you. Do you know what it's like to want something so badly, you can taste it?”

Of course he could. The two women in his life he’d wanted more than anything in the world betrayed him. Why could they not love him? To merely entertain the thought of making love to Mae or his beloved Christine make a chill run through Phantom Doone. But he shook off the scenario and stood firm in his demand.

“If you don’t give me the journal and the spell book, I will take it from you. Keep in mind you only cast spells, but you don’t realize or understand the consequences. When you take a walk through dimensions you don’t know what walks with you. Each time you open that vortex you risk letting something in from the other side.”

At this, the stubborn count drew his gun, but the Spear tip flipped it out of his hand. In anger the count uttered something in Latin, but whatever he tried to do didn’t work. With fierce determination, Doone entire persona changed. At that moment, neither Phantom nor Doone stood before the old count. The light around the being emanated a blinding white light. Blinking hard he held up his hands to shield his eyes, but to no avail. The next moment passed quickly and Philippe found himself lying flat on his back upon the marble floor of the throne room, looking up at the murals on the ceiling. What happened? Feeling around in his coat he could not find the journal or spell book.

Slowly his eyes focused on the face of the smiling divine being as it waived the two books at him. Had his cousin become a god and not tell him? The reporter helped the count to his feet and took the gun from him.

“From here I must go with only Raoul. Hathor I’ve lost, but I will take no other. Go back to France or America, I don’t care which, just stay away. I have other tasks to perform before I face the one who bares the mantle of Pharaoh/god, he who processes the Staff of Osiris. I cannot be concerned for your well being.”

Ticking a look to the reporter he spoke softly, “Whatever you and Raoul have planned, do it. It is not necessary for you to be with us. It will work from wherever you are.”

The others didn’t understand, but Hamilton wondered how he knew their plan. For once his trademark grin vanished and look of seriousness washed over him. He exchanged looks with Raoul who nodded in agreement. They would know the right time to execute his plan. Making it work from long distance would be a challenge.

Outside, the men parted ways. Raoul and Phantom Doone moved up the mountain, while the others headed for town. They’d have to find their way to the airport and catch the next flight to somewhere.

*****************************

Images of the men walking away from each other faded as a thick mist covered mystic pool. Dressed in his royal vestures, Erik waved the crook over the pond and the mist vanished, the pool returned to normal. From a distance, Mae spied on her husband. Thoughts of receiving another shock from the Staff made her shudder in terror. The current, which coursed into her body had nearly stopped her heart. Certainly the body could not take another mind freezing jolt like that.

Quietly she slipped from behind the vines and trees of the garden and hurried to one of the great temples. Doone had told her to call upon Skadi or Isis, but instead, she found herself stumbling into the temple of Hathor.







High ceilings supported by majestic columns covered the immense edifice. A multitude of hieroglyphs spoke from the walls and in the center of all lay a 10-foot tall solid gold statue of Hathor, Mistress of the West, goddess of beauty and love, the same whom the Greeks called Aphrodite and the Romans Venus. At the base of the idol lay a huge open brazier, cold and empty.






For some reason, the temple in all its ancient glory felt familiar to Mae. She didn’t know why, it just did. Looking up at the goddess she uttered something she never knew to say until that moment.

With hands clasped in prayer she turned her face upward.

“Hathor, great Mistress of the West, oh, honorable cow goddess, she who presides over beauty and love, hear my plea. Save me from my husband Erik and save him from himself. A madness has overcome the man. Even though I have not served thee, thou haste but to ask and I will obey. I am at thy service,” the young woman bowed her head in sorrow and respect.

At first, nothing happened. A great silence hung in the air, almost like a tomb. Again Mae repeated her prayer unto the ancient goddess. Still the only thing she heard was the fierce pounding of her own heart. The poor woman felt foolish, talking to an idol as if it could speak. But in truth, it was not the statue to whom she spoke, but to an ancient and powerful deity.

Suddenly, a great fire filled the brazier and a soft whisper one might mistake for the wind, called out her name. Mae jumped at the roar of the fire. A knot set in her stomach and now her entire body shook.

“Mae! Mae! I am contained. You must release me,” whispered the disembodied voice. Confusion washed over the woman. What did this mean? Who was speaking?

“Destroy the Staff and release me,” again spoke the voice. It almost seemed to come from the open flames, flames that bore no heat, but now turned blue and cold.

Before the young woman could answer a great hand seized her by the neck and dashed her face down upon the marble floor.

Blood splattered and ran down her face and neck, a black void enveloped her. All vision faded away. The laughter of a madman and the threat of a horrible death were the last thing she heard.

Oh, dear heavens! I'm glad Doone and everyone else is ok. I am afraid for Mae, she may have married the Opera Ghost, but madness of this calliber is not what she signed up for...

I wonder if things will ever be good between them again, if (or when) Erik returns to his normal (former) self...?


Please do continue again soon.

I remain, as always, your faithful reader and at the edge of my seat.

D

Hello Slitherliggie! Good to see you and so happy you enjoyed this last chapter. Many things happened to get you wondering.

Here is the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 62

Crete, Greece Present Day

A little place in Crete to grab a quick bite was a café called Triple W Surf and Play Internet Café. For the reporter and those with him, it would give them time to refresh themselves, check out some things on the Internet and decide what they wanted to do. The entire café held rows upon rows of computers with a chairs in front of them.





Lucas McCleary and his nephew each ordered a cold soda and a couple of lamb gyros. They didn’t trust Philippe or Hamilton. Actually, they wanted to go home, back to Paris. While they ate and chatted with each other, the reporter and the count took a moment to reevaluate what they wanted to do. There were a few things they didn’t want anyone to know, like the fact that they knew each other before all this relic and monster hunting.

Hamilton sipped a local brew while the old count savored his cognac.

“Did you know the journal would rewrite itself if we interfered?” causally asked Philippe.

“Had I known there would have been a few things I’d a done differently,” Hamilton sipped his beer.

“You must know by now why I want the Staff and the Spear. What is your interest?”

Hamilton gave a lopsided smile and stared the man in the eye. “What do you think? We may as well talk about it and get it out of the way. Yes, I broke into your castle looking for the journal. One minute it was in your possession and then it was gone. And I didn’t take it.”

The conversation irritated the count. Now that the reporter brought up the burglary, his cognac didn’t taste so good.

Carefully he placed his words, proposing he and the reporter work together and send the others packing. Since they didn’t have the journal, it wouldn’t matter if it rewrote itself or not. They could find Phantom Doone and follow him until he found the Staff.

“You and me ally?” Hamilton looked startled. He didn’t trust the count anymore then the count trusted him. But the thought of finding the Spear and Staff together he couldn’t afford to miss. With much trepidation, he agreed to the strange partnership. At the moment, the count had no men and Hamilton knew how to handle a gun. Since he didn’t have the journal, the boy and his uncle seemed useless to him. His gut feeling told him to shoot them both, but for some reason the reporter opposed useless bloodshed.

Lucas and Antoine jumped at the chance to return home. They didn’t seem the least bit slighted or cheated out of future events. They’d had enough of monsters, magick and henchmen.

After a few words with the uncle and nephew, he waved them on and they practically ran from the café.

“So mon ami, what do we do now? Already you have released two loose ends, what other flaws are in your plan?” the count needled.

The grin returned to the reporter's face and he pointed to the mountains. “We wait for them to come down.”

“Wait? That’s absurd! We must follow them.”

“Okay, Mr. Count. You lead. I’ll follow. We go up the mountain and find them, Raoul and the Phantom. Then what? If they are fighting some mythical monster, then what?” This left the count speechless. He threw back the last drop of cognac and slammed the snifter on the table.

“Careful there count. Aren’t you supposed to be a little delicate with that glass?” grinned the reporter, taking his turn at needling Philippe.

With that, he snatched up the snifter and dashed it against the corner wall. Fortunately only a few patrons sat near the corner who flinched at the snifter whizzing by and shattering to bits before them.

*************************

The mountains of Crete seemed steep, or could it be that Raoul just needed to have prepared for their little hike. At the time, it felt like mountain climbing. The higher they went, the harder he strained to breathe.

Looking at him tentatively, Phantom Doone hoped he’d made the right choice in bringing Raoul with him. Currently, he looked pretty pale and gasped for air now and then. As they reached a summit, a man dressed like one of the locals met and greeted them in English.

Stretching forth a thin strong hand, they noticed his skin did not display the olive cast like the locals. Instead, he appeared as white as they. He stood eye to eye with Doone, with dark wavy hair a bit tousled, framing his handsome chiseled features.

“Welcome to Crete. Hope your visit is a pleasant one. Most people here call me Hermie,” the man smiled and shook their hands vigorously.

Puzzled, Raoul asked, “A pleasure to meet you…Hermie? Is that short for something?”

“Yes, Hermes.”

“Like the messenger of the gods, Hermes?” Raoul tried not to show his fear.

“Yes, exactly.”

Phantom Doone looked at him carefully. “You are he, Hermes. In Rome they called you Mercurius or Mercury.”

“Yes, yes that is correct. You do know your gods. Please come, sit and eat with me. We have much to discuss.” At this, the stranger turned and led them to a little house, crudely built with some sort of clay and sticks. A couple of milk cows roamed loose as did some chickens and goats.

Inside, a beautiful long table displayed a wide variety of fruits, cheese, fresh bread, roast fowl, baked fish and new wine. Phantom Doone and Raoul looked around in awe.




“You were expecting us?” Doone ticked a look to their host.

“Absolutely.” He gestured for them to have a seat. Raoul hesitated, as did his traveling companion.

“What is this? Last meal for the condemned man?” Doone raised an eyebrow.

“That depends on whether or not you win?” Hermes gave cheerful smile. “In any event, you have to eat, whether it’s your last or the first of many victory celebrations.”

Their host then poured each a glass a wine and then raised his half full glass to them. “A toast to victory, whether it be yours or the other chap’s.” And with that, Hermes gulped down his wine.

Lol, the toast to victory would have been adorable hadn't it been so underlying ominous...

Will Philippe never learn to stop crossing Doone? I mean honestly, no means no...

Very good chapter, my friend, I am intrigued on where the story is going from here.

Please do continue again soon.


D