Curse of the Nandi (Society for Paranormals Book 5) (25 page)

“Ouch,” he said, rubbing the back of his head where my nudge had been aimed.

Yawa leaned her head against Yao’s shoulder and smirked at me. “So many clothes,” she said. “And it’s going to be hot soon.”

I pursed my lips, for while Yao was charming and almost endearing, Yawa was anything but. Then again, Mr. Timmons exhibited a different response on the matter, inciting me to nudge him again, this time with my boot in his ribs. He nearly dropped his pants as he rubbed the aggrieved ribs and glowered at me.

“Why hot?” Yao asked, glancing at the dark sky, for there was no indication of daylight yet.

“Fire, brother,” she said, licking her lips in anticipation. “A big, grand, delicious fire.”

Both their eyes widened and Yao clasped his hands together and matched his sister’s toothy smile.

“What fire?” I asked.

Yawa glanced at me, her gaze flicking over my clothes which she clearly viewed as excessive. A leer graced her sumptuous lips. “Dr. Spurrier is going to set the Bazaar on fire.”

Chapter 28

Her words were no sooner uttered when my nose wrinkled of its own accord. An acrid scent tainted the breeze, caused by the burning of more than just firewood.

“Fire,” Yao and Yawa breathed out in unison, having also detected the smell.

“We’d best see if Dr. Ribeiro is still uninfected,” I said, “and then…”

A scream interrupted me. A tad crossly, I asked, “Now what?”

The Adze were peering in the direction of the sound, the personification of hungry alertness, their eyes wide and round, their mouths slightly open in anticipation, their muscles tense in preparation.

Another scream echoed the first, this time from the direction of the burgeoning fire, the flames of which were now creating a small glow above the rooftops and an increasing crackling that overwhelmed the sounds of night and Nelly’s snores.

Mr. Timmons had dropped the reins and was tugging at something from the shack behind him. It was a bit of rope that had been tied across the alley. I supposed that during the day, various wares would be hung enticingly from it, but now it was to serve another purpose: as a belt to hold up a set of grossly oversized pants. That done, Mr. Timmons glanced at me, then to the Adze, and back. I understood the question.

I cleared my throat and turned to the Adze. “Find the zombies.”

Yawa’s features brightened into a triumphant smile while Yao peered up at me with the intensity of a young child who couldn’t quite believe his good fortune.

“And then?” he asked, somewhat breathlessly. “What shall we do once we find them?”

I briefly closed my eyes and prayed for forgiveness from any being that might be paying attention to the dot on the map that was Nairobi, before whispering, “Do what you must to stop them infecting others.”

The Adze squealed in delight and in a flash of skin and teeth were gone.

“May the powers that be forgive me,” I said.

Mr. Timmons patted my knee but refrained from speaking, for what was there to say? Instead, he swung up behind me, grasped my waist and kicked Nelly into a semi-conscious state.

We plodded out of the alley and in the direction of Dr. Ribeiro’s clinic; all the while the indications of chaos amplified around us. More screaming and shouting from the camp almost drowned out the furor of the rapidly growing fire behind us. A thick, foul-smelling smoke drifted overhead, its underbelly tinged with orange. Numerous traders rushed into the Bazaar, dodging each other while scurrying to salvage their wares from the inferno that would soon engulf the area. Small herds of confused animals followed, bleating and baying. And as happens in such situations, the opportunists emerged, looting whatever unattended shop they could find, only running off into the night when their arms were too full to manage one more item. By the time we reached the clinic, the Bazaar was the busiest I’d ever seen it.

Dr. Ribeiro and George were just exiting with a few wooden crates filled with ointments and tools of the medical trade. A small cart attached to a mule was already loaded with other boxes. The doctor’s round face had a sheen on it, yet he managed to bestow on us his cheery smile.

“Oh my, fancy that you’re being here at this time,” the doctor gushed as he set down his crate into the cart with a clatter.

“Indeed,” Mr. Timmons said. “You wouldn’t happen to be missing a zombie, now would you?”

“Yes, in fact,” Dr. Ribeiro said, eyes wide. “I am indeed in fact missing just such a patient. Are you happening to see him?”

“Us and several officials,” I said. “And judging by the proliferation of screams, others have seen him as well.”

“Yes, yes, and there are now more,” Dr. Ribeiro said with a waggle of his head. “And by tomorrow, we will be having so much more of them.” He scratched at his goatee while George slumped on one of the crates, his sightless eyes gazing under Nelly’s belly. “Perhaps we all are needing to take a vacation to Lake Naivasha.”

A tall plume of fire erupted somewhere near the entrance of the Bazaar, illuminating the night with a red glow. The world had descended into a noisy inferno, the sky awash with orange-tinted smoke. There was more shouting, running, screaming, the crackling of flames, the rattling of sheet metal and the shot of a gun. Guns in the hands of panicking people were, in my estimation, more hazardous than a few zombified men and an out-of-control fire.

“Yao and Yawa may be of assistance in that regard,” Mr. Timmons said, an eyebrow crooked up in disbelief at the words he had just uttered.

“The Adze?” Dr. Ribeiro asked, his eyes widening even further until they seemed to fill up the top half of his face.

A herd of goats rushed around and between us, their bleating filling in whatever audio spaces remained. Everywhere I glanced, there was someone scampering frantically about, either salvaging or pillaging, but all desperate to vacate the area before it was overwhelmed by either fire, troops or both.

“Where are the troops?” I asked, leaning back into Mr. Timmons.

“They’re trying to block the main road out of Nairobi, but…” He shrugged and indicated the chaos around us. “We’d best be off before…”

And at that moment, the ‘before’ that we would want to avoid exploded around us: a mob erupted from the direction of camp, spilling into the rough road that threaded through the Bazaar. At first glance, I suspected them of partaking in the looting, but there was no avarice on their faces, only terror. Behind them tottered a few zombies. Somehow, above the chaos, I could discern the Kerit’s haunting wail that was reminiscent of a tortured demon.

“All this fuss for a few dead men,” I muttered, just before a Kerit leaped onto the clinic’s rooftop and snarled down at me. Mr. Timmons was studying the crowd that was moving away from us, zombies in tow, and Dr. Ribeiro was oblivious of the danger lurking above his head.

“Let’s be going now, George,” Dr. Ribeiro said as he tugged at the arm of his blind and half-deaf assistant.

Attracted by the motion, the Kerit hunched close to the roof edge and reached a long, hairy leg toward the doctor, claws extended to rip off a head. I had already begun to raise my stick, preparing to hurtle it at the beast’s toothy maw, when the clinic’s fragile roof collapsed with a rattling of metal sheet. The Kerit disappeared with a yowl that was unheard by all save me.

“Yes, you really should be moving along now,” I said as Dr. Ribeiro assisted George into the front of the cart.

“Yes, yes, we are now going, Miss Knight,” the doctor reassured me as he tugged on the mule’s reins. “But where is being the question.”

As if in answer, an explosion rattled the air behind us, and fire spat at the sky with such ferocity that I could feel my hair singing from the heat.

“Clearly not in that direction,” Mr. Timmons said as he kicked Nelly into motion.

“The Kerit are here as well,” I shouted.

“Of course they are,” Mr. Timmons said with a chuckle. “Why should they miss out on the party?”

“You’re going to a party?” Dr. Ribeiro asked. “I am not so very much advising this, Miss Knight. I am thinking I’ll go to stay in your barn, if you are not minding too terribly.”

A second Kerit appeared on a neighboring rooftop and hunched over at the edge. It eyed Dr. Ribeiro who had just managed to persuade the mule to shuffle forward, pulling the cart away from the clinic.

“That’s quite acceptable, doctor,” I replied while releasing my blowpipe and a dart from my walking stick. With Mr. Timmons leaning against my back, I couldn’t maneuver enough to retrieve my bow, so I settled on the next best alternative, hoping that the Kerit were susceptible to the narcotic.

“Would you mind bending over just a tad, Dr. Ribeiro?” I called to him, just as the Kerit leaned outward, its hairy, muscular limb extending toward Dr. Ribeiro’s head.

Instead of bending over, he straightened up, somewhat perplexed at the request. The Kerit’s clawed paw swiped downward, snagging the doctor’s homburg hat.

“My hat!” he cried out, finally alarmed at some aspect of the evening.

I blew into the pipe; a slender bit of wood shot out and connected with the neck of the confused Kerit as it attempted to extract a brain from the hat. The creature yelped, snarled, rolled its eyes and collapsed with a hearty thud onto the metal roof. The hat, thus liberated, floated down to land before Dr. Ribeiro’s feet.

“Oh, oh my, there you are,” he said, a delighted smile lifting his goatee. He retrieved his hat, brushed off the dust that was the same light brown as the felt, settled it firmly on his head, and swatted at the mule to move.

By this time, the Bazaar’s main thoroughfare was heavily congested with people and livestock in various stages of panic. The best I could say was there were no zombies in the immediate vicinity. Mr. Timmons was attempting to navigate Nelly toward the opposite side of the road where the shacks and shops bordered open Savannah rather than the camp. He was having a rough time of it, and I doubted Dr. Ribeiro would be able to push his cart through the madness.

I glanced around Mr. Timmons and observed Dr. Ribeiro leading his mule in a diagonal fashion across the thoroughfare. Periodically he reached up to pat the stiff, curled brim of his hat, and otherwise appeared to be on a leisurely Sunday stroll. George was likewise unfazed by the furor about him, but in his case it was due to being blind and deaf to it all.

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight, until another snagged at the corner of my vision, one that annihilated the smile and any spark of relief that the night was almost finished.

On the rooftops behind us, several Kerit had appeared, scanning the crowd. With them was a werewolf.

Chapter 29

“Drew!” I screamed, struggling to simultaneously swing my leg over Nelly’s neck, extract myself from Mr. Timmons’ grip and loosen my bow. All I succeeded in accomplishing was to tangle my boot in the reins.

The werewolf raised his long snout and sniffed the air. His golden eyes met mine, and for a moment, I retained hope that he would come to his senses and join us. Then, with a howl, he leaped into the crowd, followed by the Kerit.

“No,” I shouted, and a few passersby glanced my way with somewhat alarmed expressions, but a woman shouting atop a horse was hardly cause for comment given the current situation, and they shuffled forward. I suspected I could’ve been kidnapped and not one would’ve raised a finger to assist. Thus died chivalry.