Part 33 (1/2)
But as in the temples they'd visited earlier, nothing was registering. There was also the not-so-small problem of what to do if she found them with Carlos or anyone else there to witness the discovery. She hated keeping secrets from him; it made her sad to have to do that. This was her man, her partner, and they were supposed to be one.
Damali turned her attention toward the only source of illumination, hoping the tiny lights might provide answers. Small b.u.t.ter lamps lit the interior, their smoky essence filtering up to cover the ceiling in soot.
She glanced at Carlos, watching him walk around the miniature prayer altar, and she studied his gaze as he took in the hundreds of religious markings that covered the walls.
”What are you sensing?” she murmured, coming close to him.
”Nothing I should be feeling or picking up from a monastic temple,” he said with a, half smile. ”But I have to remember not to defile the Neteru.”
For a moment, she didn't move or speak. A deep, pungent, sensual aroma began to fill the unventilated s.p.a.ce around her, making her slightly heady. ”Who told you something like that?” she whispered, her breath coming out huskier than was warranted.
”That's just the thing, D,” he said quietly, his gaze still raking the walls as she stepped in closer to him. ”I can't remember. I just know that I'm not supposed to.”
”Who got that crazy mess up in your head,” she said, smiling, closing off the s.p.a.ce between them. She inhaled deeply and allowed her nose to drag along his shoulder. ”Whew, man... is that what's been bothering you lately?”
He shook his head and stepped away from her, his eyes on the cave walls. ”There's an energy here,” he whispered. ”Male.”
Damali straightened and went on guard. ”Friend or foe?” Her eyes darted around the dimly lit enclosure.
”That would depend on your perspective,” an elderly voice said from behind the column.
Carlos and Damali whirred around and stood in battle readiness as a small, gnomelike man in a brown robe stepped from behind the column. His face was drawn with wrinkles, his hair white and long, fusing with his mustache and beard to flow down the front of his dark brown habit. His eyes were all white, covered in thick, bluish cataracts. His hands were concealed within the deep folds of his sleeves and he extracted them slowly to press them together and bow.
”I am Zang Ho. You seek the wisdom of the Naksong?”
Damali and Carlos didn't immediately speak, temporarily rendered mute by the surprise.
”Well, well, speak. Be quick. Time is of the essence,” the tiny man said with impatience. He swept up to them, seeming oblivious of their size and strength, or the fact that Damali was packing a blade. ”I've waited a very long time for you two-and you both are incorrigible.” He swept away again and walked around the column with his hands behind his back, and then suddenly rushed up to Carlos, pointed a crooked finger at him and smiled a toothless grin. ”Ahhh...” he said, inhaling sharply. ”The apexing one is here.” He spun to face Damali with blind eyes. ”The female, too. Humph. Put away the blade,” he ordered. ”I detest the smell of metal.”
Carlos and Damali simply stared at each other for a moment.
”Uh, sir,” Damali said, vastly amused by this droll little man who stood all of four feet ten inches tall, if a hair. ”Uhmmm... you are the Naksong, we take it?”
He waved at her to dismiss the query. ”You are almost ready, but him... my, my, my so much work to do and so little time.”
”Sir, what do I have to do?” Carlos said as humbly as possible. ”I came to learn from a master, because we have a serious mission at hand.”
”You were a master!” the old man shouted, becoming indignant. ”This is the point,” he said, placing a bony finger against his temple. ”A general. A master strategist. What is wrong with your mind?” He walked away, swis.h.i.+ng his robes against the dirt floor and stirring plumes of dust as he strode around in agitation. ”I don't have time for silly questions, young man. Link to her energy!” He folded his arms over his chest and pouted, and then began twirling the end of his long beard between two fingers, waiting.
”We're out of sync,” Damali hedged, confused but swallowing a smile. ”We're supposed to be looking for some serious demon energy, the Chairman's lair, but, uh, Monk Lin has been taking us sightseeing.”
”Integrate yourself,” the Naksong said, snapping his fingers. ”You must conquer that which is within by using what is within. Then to conquer the external is moot, unless you have achieved that.” He walked away. ”I am done for the evening.”
”Wait, wait, wait, hold up,” Damali said, moving to block the elderly man's exit. ”We did not fly umpteen hours and get snagged by government forces, get loaded down with artillery, to hear 'integrate yourself and go home. Be serious, sir-or at least have a heart.”
The old man frowned and turned to address Carlos, tilting his head as he listened for his position in the room. ”Feisty. I can see your hesitation.”
”Listen,” Carlos said, losing patience. ”I don't know what you're talking about, and-”
”Then the problem is worse than I thought,” the old man fussed, cutting off Carlos's comment. He again began to pace in a circle, muttering to himself, his voice rising and dipping in fits and starts. ”In the land of the Arc of the Covenant, did you not receive the tools of the Neteru?” He held up his hand to prevent an answer. ”Yes.” He began walking again. ”In the land of the Thunderbird, did you not receive the mission?” Again he held up his hand as Carlos and Damali glanced at each other. ”Yes.” He looked up with dead eyes and folded his arms over his bony chest. ”But you forgot. Humph! Young people.” He began his dizzying circle again. ”We are in trouble,” he said to the vaulted ceiling. ”We are in very, very big trouble if we depend on them.” He jerked his head to stare blindly at Carlos and Damali. ”Sync up and meet me in the mountains tomorrow. I suppose I will have to teach.”
Before Damali or Carlos could open their mouths, he vanished in a puff of white smoke.
”Okay, now that was deep,” she said, going to the spot where the little man had been. She stomped on the ground. ”Now what do we tell the team?”
”Your visit was fruitful?” Monk Lin asked, rus.h.i.+ng up the cave temple stairs before Carlos and Damali descended them.
The group was held in thrall as Carlos and Damali related the bizarre events inside the cave, but Monk Lin whirred around and clapped his hands.
”You have met the Naksong. He has agreed to teach. This is a divine omen. Tomorrow, we set out at dawn to find the nomads, who will point us to the oracle. She will be able to coax him to us and our lessons begin.”
Glances pa.s.sed around the group as they all got back into the vehicle.
”I just have one question,” Rider said flatly, staring out the window. ”Why do we always have to do things the hard way, people?
Just answer me that, gang, and I won't say another word for the rest of this trip!”
Still mystified, Damali stood before the window in the tight confines of the barren room, watching the setting sun paint the mountains in the distance pink and gold. Where were the tears!
Carlos's arms enfolded her as he looked at the scene over her shoulder, resting his chin on it.
”I'm sorry that I'm such a slow learner,” he murmured. ”D, I swear, it's like something is in my head that can't get out. Things I should remember by instinct just ain't there anymore.”
She covered his hands with hers as he held her, keeping her back toward him as the shared the spectacular view of the Tibetan sky.
”It's not your fault,” she said quietly. ”Something traumatic happened, and I can feel it just under the surface of your skin. But what troubles me is that I can't pick it up, either. There's a black wall there. Maybe it's just because you went full vamp before, so your Neteru transition is a little slower than...”
”I know,” he said with a weary sigh. ”When we went to the first temple, I felt detached, nothing, as though something was trying to reach me, but couldn't get in.”
She turned and stared at him. ”A lot of blood was shed there. That temple was desecrated. Maybe you were s.h.i.+elding your mind from that?”
He nodded and moved a stray lock behind her ear. ”I don't want to focus on images like that anymore.”
”But you can't turn a blind eye to it,” she argued gently. ”Close your eyes, try to see what was there at Jokhang. Maybe it will offer a clue?”
He nodded, and slowly obliged her, tuning his mind to the images of the first temple. Soon his breathing deepened and his head dropped against her shoulder. The smell of blood filled his nose, and he tensed.
”Stay with it,” she murmured. ”I'll be with you in the vision.”
Slowly, he forced himself to relax and attempted to retrace his mental steps through the intricate maze of the sanctuary. He could feel perspiration beginning to seep out of his pores as the pungent scents became nearly intoxicating, covered his face, slid up his nose, and made him weave against her.
Damali dragged her nose across his shoulder. The sensation sent a shudder of desire through him. The images in his head melted into the rooms of the Potala-thrones, books, swirled in his mind. Before long, his breaths were coming out in short pants. He was chained to a wall, scorpions exited the floor and covered his feet, scurried up his legs, and turned into tiny gargoyle-like creatures that grew and became harpies. He tried to jerk his head up, but Damali had a firm grip at the base of his skull.
”Stay with it,” she murmured. ”I got you. I'm here.”
Pain riddled his body, and then suddenly gave way to weightlessness. A dark throne sat alone, smoke pouring over the floor, and then strong desire filled him. His groin felt like it was on fire. Golden fangs opened. A dark book was just beyond his reach.
He nuzzled her neck hard, and battled not to score her throat. He could feel his gums about to rip, but as his tongue ran over his teeth, they'd remained smooth, even, flat. A sudden nip against his jugular made him open his eyes and gasp.