The cup of tea was tilted up to his lips, the hot beverage steaming up into the air of the room as he lowered it to cool. Something caught his attention. The beating hearts of a human, a woman to be precise, and something else not human. Its heart beat incredibly slow, unnaturally slow in fact. He had seen these pulses before in the creatures of the night, the second most populated species on this planet. Then there was the small, fast beating pulse of an animal.
Lord Blud cocked his head to the side. Why was Sam bringing a cat up to the hotel room? And why was she accompanying a vampire? She was definitely most amusing, always bringing something new to the table. Her unpredictability was welcome, but also a worrisome trait of the female warrior.
The door burst open a second time this night, Sam’s heavy presence settling on everyone in the room. She stormed over to Lord Blud, her pulse beating rather quickly.
She slammed a folder down on Lord Blud’s desk. “There you have it. Everything this Hans guy is up to, plus where his base is located.” Sam crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “Good enough for you?”
Lord Blud held the folder in his hands. He was impressed by her work, how she got this information was well beyond him. He would need to catalog her adventures when he had the chance to sit down with her, but something told him that would be better dreamt instead of carried out. The woman couldn’t stand to sit still for more than an hour.
Lord Blud held out the folder for the Ginger to take. He looked over Sam, “Good show!” He let his joy overtake him, “This has saved us hours, days even of research.”
Sam smiled as she looked at a massive mound of papers stacked next to the desk. She was quite relieved.
Tentin emerged from one of the rooms nearby. He passed Brockly, who was still unconscious on the couch, and approached Sam. “What the hell happened out there?” Tentin looked at his boss in a dirty and lacerated dress. Blood and grime covered her, as well as a strange smell of burning ozone hanging over her.
“She killed a demon!” A voice came from behind Tentin.
He looked back at Andrelle, who was cradling her hand. “Sam, is this your room?” She pointed to a room off to the left.
Sam nodded, “Yeah, go ahead and freshen up.”
“And she killed a troll!” The voice came again from behind Tentin.
He looked back at a small black and blue cat walking towards the couch with Brockly atop it. The cat jumped up onto Brockly’s chest and spun around for a second before kneading his chest.
The cat looked back at Tentin, “It was quite the show. She even let me tag along with you guys. The name’s Keitha, by the way.” The cat gave an awkward smile at Tentin, who then turned back to Sam.
“A talking cat? I don’t even want to know. At least you’re safe.” Tentin held his hands up and backed away.
The Ginger materialized from the kitchen, a tray of tea and snacks in his hands as always. He set them down on a coffee table in the middle of the foyer. He quickly skirted over to Lord Blud and grabbed the folder. His eyes scanned the blood written location on the front of the folder. He looked over at Sam, a smile on her face as always.
“Okay, here’s the situation, so everyone can be on the same page.” Sam stepped into the middle of the room so everyone could hear her. “First off, the talking cat is actually a person, a druid in fact, she can turn into a cat.” Sam pointed out the cat that had curled up on Brockly’s chest.
“I control plants too. Don’t forget!” She chimed in, in case anyone would care.
“Yes, she can control plants, great. Her name is Keitha and she wanted to tag along. I figured we could use all the help we can get at this point. She handled herself alright at the church.”
A fluttering at one of the windows caught Sam’s attention. A black bird with an unearthly green glow in its eye was perched on the window seal, watching Sam’s every move. Sam debated telling every one of the Raven, and how he had been a monumental help to her so far. The only one who knew of him was the cat-lady, and Sam figured it should stay that way. He was a necromancer after all. Not everyone was as accepting as Sam. She would’ve killed him at first sight if he didn’t save her life. Since then, he had been redeeming himself with ease.
“What’s this church deal about? You’re not going celibate on us, are you Sam?” Andrelle popped her head from the doorway of Sam’s room. She was half-dressed with a towel covering her goods, while her good hand was wrapped around other hand’s broken fingers. With a sharp jerk, her finger was bent back into place. A few more times, followed with a few winces from Keitha, her hand was as good as new.
“Andrelle, get dressed please.” Sam turned to Lord Blud and the Ginger, who was shying his gaze away from Andrelle, his skin flushing red. “Andrelle, this is Lord Blud and the Ginger. They are helping us take on this Nazi guy who wants to turn the world into a robot paradise.”
“Hmm.” Andrelle pursed her lips, “We still getting Red back, right? That takes first over everything else. I can’t leave him lost to that bitch.” Andrelle slipped back into the room.
“She is a vampire.” Lord Blud stood and leaned on his cane. “Can we trust her?” The Ginger grunted along to agree with Lord Blud.
“A vampire!” Keitha stood up on Brockly’s chest, her paws digging into his chest. Brockly began to moan from the intense pressure on his chest.
“Please be quite.” Sam glanced over at Keitha. “Yes, she…”
“Who is this Red man she speaks of?” Lord Blud cut in before Sam could speak, “We have a mission to carry out.”
“Oh yes, I have a message from Scott for you.” Tentin scratched his head. “Kinda forgot about it earlier.”
Sam turned to him, “Is it about Eddie?”
“We must prepare for the confrontation with Hans Kammler.” Lord Blud turned to the Ginger, “Clean up a bit and pack our bags.”
The Ginger nodded and stomped off, the tray of tea rattling as he did so.
“Stop moving.” Keitha was dodging Brockly’s hands as he tried to push her from his chest.
“Sam.” Lord Blud moved in closer, “I must speak with you about this man we are about to confront.”
Sam stepped back and held her hands up, “Blah, blah ,blah! Everyone! Shut the hell up!”
The room stared her down as they all fell silent.
“First, we fought a demon in a church, killed it, exiled it, whatever you do to those things. Second, Andrelle is a trusted friend of mine. Red is her husband who was taken by some woman with super long hair, or some crap. Third, Tentin!”
Tentin snapped to attention. “Yes?”
“What did Scott say about Eddie?” She crossed her arms. She was more worried than she let on. Her friend hadn’t contacted her for a while and now she was worried at what Tentin would say.
“He’s fine. He was just out of contact for a while. Dropped his phone and it broke. He is at the Institute now, continuing the investigation against Breaburn.” Tentin stood rigid with military precision.
“Good. I was hoping he was fine.” Sam sighed a little. Her tension was lifted. “Start packing your stuff, we should leave once the morning hits.
“What about Andrelle?” Tentin stopped to look back at Sam.
“I can stuff her in some luggage or something. We’ll figure it out.” Sam waved goodbye as Tentin shut the door to his room.
Lord Blud spoke up, “Do you think these people are ready to fight Hans? Who knows what kind of power he has hidden away in his base.” He gripped his hands on his cane tighter until his knuckles turned white. “It will be a fight to the death. It won’t be easy. He escaped last time. We can’t let him slip away this time.”
Sam wiped her nose with the back of her wrist, “I fought two of those robot soldiers out there tonight, along with one of Hans’ cyborg lackeys. They are tough. They can take a great amount of damage before they go down. The cyborgs are almost as tough, they can get scared though. The man inside is the weak point.”
“I see.” Lord Blud smiled at his ironic comment. “I won’t be of much use against the robots, but the cyborgs can be tampered with. Back to my question, do you think they can handle this?” He leaned backwards, waiting for her response.
Sam thought on her companions. Andrelle was looking for Red. She seemed quite adamant about getting him back. She would use her anger to take out the metal enemies. Tentin was seasoned as any of them could be. He fought in several wars, but he was too old to be in the military as a grunt, which was some of his favorite work. So Bartlett hired him as a hands-on head of security, a job he was well suited for. She had seen the Ginger and Lord Blud in combat. They didn’t need any hand holding as far as she knew. Her two wild cards were Brockly and Keitha.
Keitha was childish at heart, but her abilities would be of great use for infiltrating Hans Kammler’s base. She could sneak in undetected as a cat or dog and give Sam intel that would help out greatly. Her combat experience was lacking though. She was young and Sam had just met her. So far the druid was captured by some two-bit cult members. She handled herself alright with the demon, which was the one reason Sam kept her around. If it wasn’t for her intervention, Sam would be the face on some demon tentacle right now.
Brockly could handle himself at his top performance. He was a drunk now. He was out of shape and a little slow. He needed help to get over his sickness. Sam would give him help, but first, he would have to help her with this mess.
“They can handle themselves, more than you know. I’m confident in their abilities.” Sam held her head high.
“Good.” Lord Blud smiled, “The long haired woman who took your vampire friend’s husband. She fits the description of one of Han’s cohorts. I believe he will be with Hans Kammler. The woman that took him was most likely Maria Orsic, a most powerful psychic indeed. It will be a tough fight, but we will prevail, we must.”
Sam nodded, “Andrelle will be happy to hear this. It will make her day, or night.”
“We best be getting some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.” Lord Blud started to ascend the flight of stairs to his master suite room
“Just one thing I have to take care of.” Sam wrote something down on a piece of paper. She walked over to the window and cracked it open. “Meet us here.” She whispered outside the window. The black bird that had been watching, who was hidden to all but Sam, fluttered its wings and took flight off into the night. Sam shut the window and waltzed over to the couch where Brockly was still passed out.
She bent over and could smell his raunchy breath. She leaned back and punched him in the nose.
Brockly’s eyes shot open and he rolled to the floor holding his nose. “Dammit.” He looked up at Sam, who stood over him menacingly.
“We leave tomorrow morning. Make sure you are ready to go. Okay?” Sam smiled and entered her room, slamming the door behind her.
Brockly just nodded and sat back on the couch.
The Ginger joined Lord Blud at the top of the stairs. “Are you going to tell her the truth?” His deep gruff voice cut the air with an unnerving edge.
“She had to of had help to get the information she did. If I had to place a bet, it was Bartlett. He is close. He is using Sam whether she realizes it or not. If we stay around her, we will find him.” Lord Blud turned to the Ginger, “He tried to end the world all those years ago, I doubt he has stopped his conquest.”
The Ginger nodded.
“If we tell Sam, she would most likely loose trust in us. We can’t have that. Let us hope we are ready for the confrontation with Bartlett when the time comes. Now, we need to get some sleep.”
The scorching sun relentlessly splashed down on the small band of workers and soldiers in disguise. Sand whipped around as the wind blew with courage. The glimmering Mediterranean sea could be seen many miles away, like a jewel on display.
Sweat beaded down the heads of all the men on site, picks in the hands of some, guns in the hands of others. They were deep outside the protective lines of the Allies. Nazi occupied Egypt was just a stone’s throw away. Any sort of misstep, and the Germans could come storming the camp with a fierce onslaught. The only defense was a handful of volunteers from the British mainland.
“Major Blud! We’ve found it!” A young soldier came running up to the tent. His red hair waved in the wind. “They found the temple!”
The man surveying his camp from his tent pulled the glasses from his face. His dark green eyes scanned the lad for any signs of misleading. “You are sure? They found it?”
“Yessir!” The young man snapped to attention.
“I can’t believe it. The lost temple of Sekhmet. We’ve found it.!” Major Blud was overcome with joy. “Haha!” He hugged the soldier and spun him around before setting him down. “Take me there lad. I want to see this beauty.”
“Sir!” Another soldier on lookout called for the Major. “We have a truck inbound!”
Major Blud shielded his eyes from the sun. There was an old truck making its way towards the camp. A white star was painted on the side of the canvas covering the back of the truck.
“What are the Americans doing here?” Major Blud strode out to meet the truck. He was baffled at why the Americans had taken interest in the dig site. Did they want what was inside? There was no real telling if a powerful artifact was sealed inside the temple lost to the sands, but if there was, he was not relinquishing it to some American dropping on by for some tea and crumpets.
The truck was whipping up dust as it skirted along to the sidelines of the camp. Major Blud made his way over to the truck, his hand on the pistol strapped to his hip. There was no real way of knowing if these were Americans, or Nazi scum in disguise. Major Blud waived his hand and hailed the incoming truck over to his position.
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The truck stopped and the engine beating inside the metal body became still. The tan colored truck was caked in dust and dirt. The windshield was covered in a thick layer of grime, so much so it was a wonder that the driver could see at all.
“Who goes there?” Major Blud turned to the lookout and the redhead that had followed him over to the truck. He waved them over, “Guns up lads, this could be trouble.” He threw the command at the young men, who in return saluted awkwardly and pulled up their rifles, aiming them at the newly arrived truck.
The door popped open with a sharp click and the creaking of metal. A leg stepped outward onto the sand. Like a diamond in the rough, a man in a neatly pressed white suit stepped forward. He shut the door, dust picking up around him, but none of the airborne dirt had clung to the white suit. “No need for the guns, boys, were on the same side here.” The man in the white suit spoke, his one eye scanned Major Blud with inquiry. “You Lord Rupert Blud? The man in charge here?” The man in the white suit adjusted his eyepatch and flicked up his white fedora. He strode towards Major Blud with his hand held outward. “The name’s Bartlett. Last name, of course, the need to know the first is not at hand.”
Lord Blud looked down at the hand. Who was this man? And how did he know exactly who was in charge? With this information he must be from high command, some sort of joint task force contrived up in the bureaucratic of military hierarchy. Whoever he was, this white suited American would not be taking his glory.
Major Blud held out his hand, “Yes, I am in charge here. Pleasure.” He smiled at Bartlett, white teeth crept past the overly tanned skin. “We have this dig site under control, good sir, and we don’t need any assistance, if that is what you’re here for?” Major Blud tilted his head to the side, inviting the reason of Bartlett’s appearance.
“Unfortunatly, that is not up to you, Lord Blud, but up to our governments, which have placed me in charge of this dig site now.” Bartlett casually moved past Lord Blud and up the hill overlooking the dig site. Sweaty men, both native and foreign, were standing around a newly uncovered archway in the sand. Bartlett smiled, “Good work you’ve done here.” He turned back to Lord Blud, “You found this gem after being lost to the sand for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Very impressive.” Bartlett began to the dissent to the pit around the archway.
Major Blud waved for his soldiers to follow him as he raced up the hill after Bartlett. He raced downwards and stood in front of Bartlett. “Excuse you, but who exactly do you work for? O.S.S.? Or some other operation? Because this is my dig site. I will be the first one in the temple and the last one out.” Major Blud looked Bartlett in his one good eye, “And no American will take this from me.”
Mr. Bartlett smiled. “You do know there are Nazis just a stone throw away from here? It would be in our best interests to get into this temple and get what we need, before they figure out we are here, no?” Mr. Bartlett stepped past Lord Blud once again and stopped several feet away. He turned around and faced Lord Blud, “And to answer your question, I work for the Institute.” Mr. Bartlett flicked the tip of his fedora once more before turning back to the temple entrance.
Major Blud stood with bafflement about his mind. “Institute?” He whispered to himself while taking every road in his mind to see if even the darkest corners knew anything about an Institute. Nothing came to mind, but the mysterious man was heading towards the entrance of the tomb. “Stop.” Major Blud rushed forward as a large blast forced him to the ground. His ears were muffled, all sound blotted out. A sharp ring started to rush into his head as he pushed himself up from the sand.
Major Blud glanced behind him where one of his soldiers hand been standing. There was nothing left of him now but a crater that contained trace amounts of his former self. The redhead soldier was rising from the dirt. Blood splattered all over his uniform as the young man looked around at what had happened.
Major Blud looked to the sky as men ran for cover all around him. Several small planes soared overhead, raining down death on the surprised people below. Dirt and sand exploded all around Major Blud as one of the planes began to dive down at the camp. Bullets sprouted from its guns without discrimination, killing and maiming at will.
The ginger lad next to Major Blud erupted in a shower of blood as a round pierced his stomach. His body toppled to the ground, the young man was gasping for air, a terrified look spread across his face as his mouth screamed out in pain.
Major Blud could only think of one thought through the shook of the onslaught, the temple and the mysterious man that had appeared right before the attack. Major Blud turned and sprinted to the tombs entrance. Bartlett was nowhere to be seen, this was a bad sign for Major Blud. He reached the entrance, which was broken open just recently by what looked like a bomb from one of the planes.
Major Blud took one last look out at the destruction that raged over his encampment. People were dying left and right. Young kinsmen lay in pools of their own blood, their ambitions of serving their country brought to fulfillment as they took their last breaths. There was only one thing Major Blud could do now. He had to find whatever was so important in this temple and destroy it at all costs.
With one last gulp, forcing the lump in his throat down, Major Blud rushed into the temple, leaving the mass of destruction outside behind him.
Major Blud waved his torch around the corner of a wall littered with hieroglyphs. The light shone down a long corridor, ancient artifacts littered on both sides of the hall. The beam of light canvased the area like a spotlight looking for an escaped prisoner. One wrong move and he could engage some sort of booby trap. Maybe it was the fiction novels getting to his head, but this temple had been hidden for hundreds of years. Not one soul had traversed these halls in all that time, and Major Blud was the first person to be lost in this maze of halls and rooms in all those years.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and moved into the corridor. He shone the light from his torch left to right, making sure his eyes missed nothing. The ground shook and dust fell from the ceiling. He could hear the faint echoes of a battle forming on the surface. His rag tag group of volunteers wouldn’t be able to hold off a small Nazi battalion. It was only a matter of time before they were all dead.
Major Blud edged his way down the hall. On every side he saw old artifacts and ancient jewels. At an earlier point in time he would have taken and cataloged every item so it could be placed in museums and private collections, but now, he was only looking for the lost power the sands had taken long ago. He wasn’t sure it existed until now. The appearance of the white suited Bartlett confirmed his suspicions.
There was something powerful, something of the occult that was too dangerous to be in mortals hands, and it was buried somewhere in this temple, Major Blud just had to find it first. It was his duty to his county. It was his duty to the world. It was his duty to the young men outside that had died to protect their beliefs in a just world.
Major Blud wiped the sweat from his forehead again. He was worried about running into Bartlett down in this network of halls. His revolver was clasped tightly in his hand. The hilt was slimy from the sweat running off his palms. His torch shaking as the light jittered about the wall. The lightbulb inside started to flicker on and off, temporarily blanketing him in total darkness.
He jostled it around again to get it working. The light flicked on and illuminated the hallway. Major Blud jumped as the figure of a woman most alluring, clad in ancient, revealing clothes and gold paints covering her skin, stood before him, her hand waving him onward.
He looked side to side, wiping his eyes to see if they had betrayed him. The woman was gone, but an opening at the end of the hallway had mysteriously materialized and held Major Blud’s eyes like a boa constrictor clasping its prey.
Major Blud rushed forward, the thought of traps and imminent death pushed from his mind. He was sure he had seen the goddess Sekhmet, calling him forward. She had chosen him.
He pushed his way into the dark chamber, his torch flickering again as he passed through the veil once hidden from him. The circular chamber suddenly lit up with the rays of the sun. Light poured in, splashing about as the giant carafe in the sky illuminated the once buried temple.
Major Blud gazed about the chamber in awe. He had never seen something as majestic in his life. Before him was an uncorrupted chamber, free of decay. Men and women raced back and forth, preparing a ritual unknown to the Major. Their painted skins matched that of the woman he had seen before. Light glinted off their skin, as well as the gold walls, anointed with carvings of an ancient tongue.
His gazed drifted to a small stand in the middle of the room. The woman he saw before, the beauty that had called him and entranced his mind, was laying on a hoisted platform, her arm hanging over the edge. She smiled at Lord Blud as a priest held a golden dagger high above him and cut deep into her flesh. The woman resisted all pain and shut her eyes as pure bliss overtook her. Her blood poured from her arm and spilled into a small vessel below, sitting atop the stand. Once it was filled, the priest placed a lid over the top and cradled it in his hands like a newborn infant.
Lord Blud marveled at the scene in front of him. He was here, in ancient times, the goddess Sekhmet had shown her glory to him. The priest approached him and held out the jug of omnipotent liqueur before him. He instantly dropped his light and pistol, delicately taking the vessel from the priest, as the painted man bowed and backed away from Lord Blud.
The glamour of the theatre played out before him faded as he was left in a crumbling room, holding and faded clay jug before him.
“Her blood is mine!” The words shot out from behind Major Blud. “You will give it to me now!”
Major Blud turned and faced the white suited man from earlier. Something was off putting about him. He had changed from when he was on the surface. His eyepatch was covering the opposite eye. A dark vortex of energy was emanating from his left eye. It was disparaging to gaze upon, like a black hole soaking up all light and hope around it.
“I said give it to me!” Bartlett held up his black revolver and aimed in at Lord Blud. The white suited man’s demeanor had changed greatly from the cool sweet talker from the surface.
Major Blud took a step backwards. He held the jug close to him, keeping a steel resolve against Bartlett’s demands. “You will not have it. This is a gift from the Goddess, her power will not fall into your hands, or anyone else’s.” Major Blud held the vessel high over his head. “If you shoot, I will drop it and her blood sinks beneath the sand. No one will have it.” Major Blud stared down the man in front of him.
Bartlett smiled, “I alerted the Nazis of your operations here. It just so happened that an officer of the occult was based in Nazi occupied Egypt. I originally was planning on sneaking in and taking the blood for myself, but now I see that is no longer an option.” Bartlett took another step towards Lord Blud. “This was my key to smiting this world from…”
Bullets shattered through the ceiling of the tomb, large holes shed light inwards on the chamber as the sound of a plane’s engine was heard overhead. Chunks of sand and stone flew upwards, showering Lord Blud with debris. A large sliver of metal shrapnel coursed upwards and pierced Lord Blud’s shoulder. He winced in pain as another bullet penetrated the ceiling and broke the vessel of blood over Lord Blud’s eyes, splashing into his open mouth as he was shouting in pain.
Bartlett let out a shout of anger and shot one bullet into Lord Blud’s chest before he stormed out of the chamber. He pulled a short wave radio from his pocket, “We’ll have to find another way Scott. This was a dead end.” Bartlett took one last look at Major Blud before leaving the chamber, “Pity.” Bartlett turned and left the blood soaked Major inside.
Lord Blud opened his eyes, but the chamber overhead started to fade from his vision. His chest was filled with fire as he coughed up some of the ancient blood, as well as his own. He tried to blink away the ancient blood, but his vison soon went fully black as he collapsed to the ground. His chest filled with an immense pressure as he lost consciousness and faded into darkness.
“Doctor! I need you quickly!” A voice shouted nearby as the scuffling of shoes on polished floor filled the room. “He is making a recovery. It is a miracle!”
“My god.” There was a short pause. “Get me his paperwork! I want to know how he is even breathing.”
Lord Blud stirred from his dark slumber. He could hear the voices around the room. He sat up in his bed, caressing the gauze wrapped around his head, covering his eyes.
“Doctor, the other patient has woken up.” Some scuffling of feet made their way towards him. “And how are you feeling, Rupert Blud?”
“I’m fine thank you. Where am I? A hospital?” Lord Blud repositioned himself to sit upright.
“Yes.” The voice sounded feminine. “You were found as one of two survivors from your dig site. It is a miracle that both of you survived.”
Lord Blud reached down to his chest where Bartlett had shot him. “And my bullet wound?”
“Bullet wound?” The voice had a hint of confusion in it. “You are perfectly fine, all except one thing.” She hesitated as she spoke.
The thick sound of boots pressed against the ground entered the room. “Major Blud, I’m glad to see you up and about.” The steps came closer, “Well, at least up.”
Major Blud nodded, “I’m to assume this voice is Brigadier Smithson?”
A short chuckle sounded out, “Indeed it is.” The steps came to the side of Lord Blud. “Ma’am, could we get these bandages off his head? I would like to speak with him face to face.”
“About that.” She reached out and pulled the bandages from Lord Blud’s head. “He is blind.”
Lord Blud opened his eyes and all he saw was darkness. He blinked a few times but nothing came to his vision.
Some more scuffling as people entered the room and ran to the far side. They chattered back and forth as they marveled at whatever as in the room with Lord Blud.
“Your eyes are white as a Scots skin, Rupert. Can he be discharged? His charts said he was healthy and good to go.” The heavy breathing of Brigadier Smithson filled Lord Blud’s ears.
“Yes, just stop by the front desk on the way out.” The nurse left and joined the others in the room.
Lord Blud started to hear a thick beating all around him. He pulled his hands up to his ears to stop the sound, but the beating became louder and louder, like a waterfall crashing down onto unsuspecting rocks. He turned his head towards the Brigadier and jumped in his bed, almost falling off the other side.
Before him stood a creeping figure of red lines darting out in a thick mass of entangled vines. Some were thick, some ever so miniscule. Lord Blud blinked his eyes again, rubbing the backs of his wrists into his eyes, but the image never faded from his sight, no matter how much he tried to rid himself of the monster.
“You alright, Blud?” The figure of red lines spoke to him in Brigadier Smithson’s voice. The lines at the top of the creature began to move when it spoke.
A large mass of red creatures was entrenched at the far end of the room, where the voices of the nurses and doctors were coming from.
Lord Blud looked down at his own body sitting in the bed. Red lines networked throughout where his legs, stomach, and chest would be. The hands in front of his eyes were the same as the rest in the room. He could feel the beating of all the hearts around him as blood coursed through the bodies of the living.
He shut his eyes and focused on all the beating in the room. The hearts were all identical, beating with their own fires. He opened his eyes again to the darkness around him. The only thing he could see was the dark, and the blood of those around him. He turned towards Smithson and smiled. A golden woman stood before him, reaching out to caress his cheek.
“Rupert? Are you okay?” A mass of red veins landed on his shoulder as the woman disappeared from Lord Blud’s sight.
Lord Blud let the smile fade from his face, “Yes, I am fine. Just a bit to take in is all.” Lord Blud swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Some help finding my clothes would be greatly appreciated.”
Smithson nodded and left the room for a short moment.
Lord Blud looked at the mass of red in the corner of the room, all huddled over something that stood out to him, something more than those around it. The body coursed with the blood of several men. A great strength beat in that person’s heart. A fire bright as the sun called out to Lord Blud.
“How could he live doctor? Wouldn’t his body reject all the foreign parts? Even the blood is mismatched.” A nurse was looking over the charts of the man in the bed.
The doctor took a step back and examined the patient. “It is strange. I just tried to save his life with the parts at our disposal. He would’ve died anyway if I didn’t. I didn’t expect him to live longer than a few hours. This is strange indeed.”
A thick mass of cloth plopped on Lord Blud’s lap. “Alright Rupert, let’s get out of here and get you back home. You’re no use to the military blind, I’m sorry to say.”
“But what about Rommel? What of his Desert Rats? We must rid Africa of him.” Lord Blud felt around for his pants.
“HA! With the help of the Yanks, we kicked that rat bastard’s ass back to Germany. We won’t be seeing any more him until we cross into Italy.”
Lord Blud nodded. The Yanks had been in Africa as well. Was Mr. Bartlett actually part of them, or was he there for Sekhmet’s blood as well? “And the Yanks, do they have any special project teams as well?”
“Hmm,” Brigadier Smithson scratched his chin, “I’m sure they do, but nothing comes to mind. They probably have all their projects shrouded in mystery as well. I wouldn’t think too much on it.”
Lord Blud couldn’t help but think about this man. He was responsible for the destructing of the dig site, and the loss of the blood of Sekhmet, which now resided in the veins of Lord Blud. He would need to find this man, or creature, whatever he was. He would find him and find out what he sought the blood for. There was also a matter of revenge for the bullet he placed in his chest, as well as the camp that had been betrayed by the man.
Lord Blud stood and followed Smithson out of the hospital room. Lord Blud kept behind the red mass of arteries and veins, down to the last capillary, as he followed him out down the hallway.
Loud beeping sounded out behind them as Lord Blud took one more step away from the room. Loud shouts calling for machinery and help came from the room Lord Blud had just stayed in. The patient that had shared the room with Lord Blud must have flat lined. His heart was strong though. His heart had the fire of life. What had happened?
“Poor bloke, he wouldn’t have made it anyway. Took quite the shot from the Luftwaffe that raided your camp.” Brigadier Smithson turned back to leave.
“Wait.” Lord Blud spoke as he felt his way back down the room. As he neared, the beeping of machines stopped and the room went silent. Lord Blud bit his lip. The patient was one from the dig site, someone he must have met before the attack. He turned and headed back to Smithson when the machines went off again. Lord Blud hurried back to the room and the beeping went silent.
Doctors and nurses muttered their thoughts on the patient. They had no idea what was happening to the patient.
Lord Blud could feel the heart weakening as he left. This man was dependent on Lord Blud for survival. Lord Blud turned to Smithson, “Is he one of the volunteer soldiers that accompanied me to the dig site?”
“Yes, I believe so. A ginger haired lad from Scotland. What of it?”
“I wish him to be discharged into my care, he is healthy after all.” Lord Blud stood up straight without moving further from the patient than he had to.
“He is in the service of the military. Let me make some threats and we can get him back home.” Smithson’s boots sounded further away as Lord Blud crept back into the room. This man was a patchwork of body parts. Without the power of Lord Blud’s ancient gift, this man would die.
Lord Blud was blind as well. He would need someone to help him around after all.