Jacob was pleased to do the same, exchanging reassuring smiles with the other children just ahead, his own spirits lifting at the thought that they had been rescued from a hellish life.
Another volley of arrows fell and struck the ground where Van Resen and Seward crouched by the unconscious governess. Gazda squatted protectively over Miss James knocking any arrow that came near out of the air.
More rain pounded and caused the canopy to thunder, backlit in frenzied moments as lightning flashed to illuminate the hanging jungle. The aftereffects left them blinded to the shadows in the deeper dark.
The drums continued urgently as more arrows fell, and the wild man charged back along the trail some yards to let loose his terrifying howl.
“God help us!” Van Resen slid his hands over Miss James’ face and arms as he moved his lips to the ranger’s ear to say, “Please follow my lead...” When he felt Seward’s hesitant nod, he continued, “Captain, she is like death!”
The wild man roared again and the overarching jungle rang with echoes.
“He’ll bring them all down on us,” Seward grunted, gathering the woman in his arms.
“I must send him to defend our escape,” Van Resen whispered, looking in the dim, hoping that the rest of their group had moved far ahead.
The scientist suddenly rose up on his knees and howled mournfully, “My God! My God! She is dead!”
Gazda swung around at the cry; his eyes alight like twin forges. A deep growl rocked his mighty chest as he scrambled toward them on all fours, as lightning shattered the dark on all sides.
Moaning and panting, the anxious wild man knelt by the scientist as the older man set his muddy palms against the governess’ face. Lightning flashed and roared.
“Poor Gazda!” Van Resen cried, catching the wild man’s crimson eyes. “Ginny is dead!”
The ranger sat shivering in the deluge, the woman in his arms. The wild man’s face appeared to float before him in the gloom.
“Yeah. She’s dead!” Seward called, as Gazda’s muddy hand shot out to stroke Miss James’ begrimed and rain-spattered cheek.
“Ginny—dead?” The wild man champed his teeth together, shaking his head and panting while rolling his great shoulders from left to right and left in negation of what he saw. The rain poured down from the canopy as the thunder exploded again, and blue-white lightning ripped through the forest. A rumble came from far away and an enormous crash told of a great tree felled by the storm’s violence.
“Ginny!” Gazda looked up at the scientist, his expression pleading as he shook his head. In the darkness between lightning strokes, his straining eyes burned with a terrible red flame that caused his great fangs to gleam.
“They have killed Ginny!” Van Resen reached out to grasp the wild man’s cold flesh, the shoulders like carved marble in the dashing rain. Then he pointed back along the path.
“THEY have done this to her! To YOU Gazda!” the scientist bellowed, and the wild man’s eyes burned brighter, blazing suddenly toward their enemies.
Still more arrows thudded into the ground around them.
Gazda barked, and snapped his teeth as he growled, “The bone-faces kill Ginny!”
“And Lilly! They killed Lilly, too, Gazda.” Van Resen caught the wild man’s wrist, and glared back along the trail as lightning crashed. “Poor Lilly is dead!”
The wild man snarled up at the streaming canopy, and the rain ran over his white features, washing the unbridled anger from his expression—and leaving sorrow. Tears steamed in his gleaming eyes as he looked back upon Miss James.
“You failed them, Gazda!” Van Resen said, pulling at the man’s arm and pointing along the trail again. “But only you can avenge them! You must avenge them. Vindicta, Dracul!”
Gazda’s crimson eyes suddenly burned into the scientist’s, bore down upon him with the wild man’s full intensity and awareness. The scrutiny was so immediate and powerful that Van Resen felt like a specimen beneath the lens of a microscope.
The strange man’s fiery gaze pushed past his own, reversing his vision even and forcing its way into the flickering knowledge that was the scientist’s mind—and it seemed, into his very soul. The creature probed him—prodded the edges of his reason, gleaned the expanse of his history—surging close to Van Resen’s hidden knowledge—and fearing that his lie might be untold, he focused his entire concentration upon a single recent memory—fresh, was his recall of the scene.
Masked savages bludgeoned Miss James as she defended Lilly’s dying form.
They had struck Gazda’s Ginny—hit her skull and drawn her blood.
Over and again Van Resen pictured this, relived the bloody violence. He heard the crack of wood on bone as the degenerate beast struck Gazda’s woman.
And with that his own anger flared up, the same he felt now echo in Gazda’s breast; for the wild man’s noble face had contorted like Van Resen’s.
Like he too had witnessed the scene.
Gazda reached out suddenly, and with a broad white hand he patted Van Resen on the head as he nodded his own.
Yet their eyes and souls remained connected and intertwined a moment longer as a great sadness softened the wild man’s features and flooded across the link to Van Resen.
Tears streamed from the scientist’s eyes as he experienced the powerful creature’s great loneliness. A depthless sorrow filled him, left him alone with only loss and death.
He had nothing.
He had lost everything.
He had nothing...
Then Gazda severed the connection with a blink, and wiped at the murky tears that washed with the raindrops rolling down his cheeks.
Gazda’s eyes boiled with inner fire as he turned away, and with a terrifying grimace wrenching his wet, white features; the wild man started back toward the village, alternately sprinting upright and loping on all fours as he disappeared from sight.
The big Texan clenched his fists, and bared his teeth, struggling to rise with the governess. It was
