I was asleep when the two ladies of the group awoke me by shrieking, and I heard McCloud running towards their shared, two-bed room. Grasping my weapon, I followed suit as quickly as these old legs could carry me, only to be shocked when I opened the door - Not only were there two of those flaming jellyfish-like things, but a great black dragon-like monster, not unlike the one that had attacked the bar in Shanghai, writhed outside in an attempt to enter through the window!
We knew how to deal with the flaming creatures, but the dragon was newer to me. I am not certain how I kept my wits together witnessing its slimy body turn in painful, unnaturally fluid, and unwholesome ways, but I did, raising my gun to shoot. Imagine my shock when the bullet did absolutely nothing to it, going straight through its body!
"McCloud, we have trouble!" I cried, "This is a lost cause, mein freund!"
"Yeah, I noticed!" shouted the American in response. "Too close, we have to run for it!"
Run we did. I am not ashamed of it, for I have learned thus far that running is another form of survival. It followed suit, chasing us through the building until we found our way outside, where we had more room to work. This is when Muuzaji noticed something, and had an idea.
"If a bullet will not work, a blade will not, but perhaps its eyes?" she offered helpfully. "Enala, have you your spear still?"
"Yes, always," the elder replied, taking aim and throwing. However, apparently she is terrible at doing so, for the spear broke on impact.
"You had one job, Enala," I muttered, taking aim at the beast's eyes and firing again. This time, my aim held true, and I shot the creature in one of its six glowering red eyes. It shrieked in agony, and I savored its pain for a moment before it suddenly turned on the nearest one of us - Muuzaji, who had attempted to sneak up behind the beast to stab it. It snapped its mighty tail about her, pinning her, and then took one sudden lunge, jaws closing around her arm and a sickening snap resounding, followed by a cry of pain.
Muuzaji is certainly made of strong stuff, for she did not pass out from the breaking of her arm, nor did she manage to lose her leg in the process. Rather, anger flooded her dark features and she stabbed the beast's eyes over and over again and it screamed in an almost chillingly human manner. McCloud lost it, seeing his companion so wounded, and kicked the now fallen to the ground creature, his metal leg lodging in one of the thing's eye sockets with a horrible squish. Unfortunately, the beast didn't appreciate this, let go of Muuzaji, and managed to free itself from McCloud's boot before biting at the metal leg and ripping a good chunk of flesh free from the remaining stump. I ran to contain the blood loss, but the pilot had fainted from the agony and bleeding. Now we were incensed, the sound of the African Rifles arriving in background intermingled with the beast's cried of pain as we continued our assault.
I do not know what drove the beast off, presumably the loss of all its eyes, but by the time the Rifles arrived, they too saw it flying off and were horrified. Needless to say, our story was believed, and from there we transferred our friends to the hospital. We were told that a few weeks would be all it would take for them to heal enough to continue, but of course, we didn't have that kind of time. We knew who was responsible now - there was no way after our discussion with Tandoor Singh that such an attack was an accident. Enala also confided in us that she had seen a man of Tandoor's description watching our hotel from atop the roof earlier that night. This only confirmed my suspicions, and thus it was settled - we would contact our fellows Clayton and Sarah, and get their aid in dealing with Tandoor while McCloud and Muuzaji healed.
Needless to say, neither Clayton nor Sarah were happy about being called back into the world they had tried to leave behind, and told us as much, but at the least we had a party back together again. The next day, they were a bit more amenable and, on hearing about our trials with Singh, they jumped to action. "The next time you see one of those dragon things, use light on it," Byrd said. "They don't like light." Well, that surely would have been helpful to know before, dummkopfh! These Americans, even the ex-patriots... they are all similar, and most obtuse. Of course, that stubbornness and of theirs is admirable, something I have come to appreciate more as the months go by.
It was Sarah who suspected we should wait until Tandoor had left his shop-home, and who spent the rest of the day spying on the tea-seller along with the inconspicuous-looking Enala. Sure enough, they reported back with news, all of which proved Singh's guilt, over dinner and an incredibly bold and rich coffee.
"What did you see out there, ladies?" asked Byrd, stirring his coffee idly. "Any dirt on the tea-seller?"
"We saw men, men with scars decorating their bodies, entering Tandoor's shop," Enala confirmed. "Is that normal for the people here, to wear such decorative scars? They recall the traditions of some of my homeland's tribes."
"Yeah, that's common," the treasure-hunter responded. "Sort of a tribal marking, tells others where they come from, how good of hunters they are, rank in their tribes. That sort of stuff. You've probably seen it more than a few times already."
"Well, what about odd red headdresses?" Sarah interrupted, and Clayton's eyes narrowed.
"Red headdresses... Were they by any chance decorated with things like sharp teeth and animal claws?" He queried. "Made them kind of look like demented quails?"
"Yes, actually... but why?" the Briton asked, her face marked with worry. "They were... they couldn't be cultists, right? Yet more of those monsters?"
"You're right on the mark, sweetheart." Byrd leaned forward, voice lowered conspiratorially. "They're Bloody Tongue cultists. Saw 'em back in New York, before my friends and I took 'em out - they're sick fucks, killed and gutted my buddy Elias and left the body for us to find, the lunatics. The headdress is apparently supposed to make them look like their sick god. And if you saw them entering the shop..."
"The tea-seller has ties to them," I added, eyes widening. "Perhaps he works for them... those cultists that attacked us in McCloud's plane on the way here, the ones we took captive... they were right all along!"
"Tomorrow night, then," Byrd responded calmly, "We go pay Mr. Singh a visit. He's clearly got something hidden in that shop of his, something interesting - and I want to know what. Sarah, Enala... you said that you both saw him leave too, right?"
"At approximately midday, and then late evening again," confirmed Enala. "He did not return at all after that until several hours later, I suspect he traveled elsewhere or perhaps went to obtain dinner."
"Then we have a window of opportunity." I smiled wryly. "We must be quick about it, but he will not know if we are careful and snoop around without disturbing too much."
The others agreed this was a good course of action, and from there the plan was hatched, as the Americans put it. I write now from a different room in another hotel, which we switched to after our space at the Hampton House was discovered and ransacked. We will have only one chance at this, and I pray we do not squander it. It may be one of our only chances to strike a blow against the horrors that have had us beneath their thumbs for so long, and to finally send a message to these forsaken, vile cults that we are not going to back away in fear any longer.
God as my witness, for my child and my dear sweet late wife Ingold, I will not let any others suffer as so many have from these lunatics' cruel intentions. And I will kill them all myself, with my bare hands, if I must. The world is what is at stake.
-- Dr. Ludwig Hildebrand, Ready for War Once More (6 September, 1928)