Chapter 7: Gone to the Zoo

Saturday, October 9
The Everglades, south of Okeelanta, Florida

Drake and Carver had driven all night. Mike Marcelli had been in no shape to drive, due to his injury. They reached the end of an old dirt road just south of a town Marcelli had never heard of, at about four o'clock in the morning. Carver loaded the semi-conscious prisoner into a waiting swamp boat, and they set out on the last leg of their journey. William Drake remembered the first time he had come to this swamp. It was the day that had changed his life.

Richard Thaddeus Drake had been William's great-uncle. 'Crazy Richard' had also been the black sheep of the family. While his brother and cousins had advanced themselves through school, and then the business world, through hard work and constant diligence, Richard had squandered his time carousing and gambling into the night.

To have such a wastrel in the Drake family was bad enough, but that was not the thing about Richard that annoyed them the most. Despite his total lack of responsibility and self-discipline, Richard not only survived, he thrived. His wagers and dabbling in stocks and commodities gained him as much wealth as any of his hard-working relations.

The constant loathing of his family drove Richard away. Finally, at the age of thirty-one, he purchased a large parcel of land in Florida and moved there. Many of Richard's relations were moved to vicious glee when they learned that he had purchased a tract of swampland. Surely the wastrel had finally gotten his just desserts. When he disappeared into his stretch of swamp, the family assumed that he had wasted all of his money, and had nowhere else to go. That was in 1912. The next time the Drakes heard about their black sheep was in 1944, when Richard died, at the age of sixty-four. William's grandfather and father had suffered financial reverses during the Great Depression, and William II hurried, by train, to Florida to learn what dear Uncle Richard had left his only nephew. He knew of Crazy Richard's ruin, but hoped that he had managed to squirrel away some money.

When the family arrived, a local ferried them out to Richard's home. Instead of finding a ramshackle hut on stilts, as they expected, the Drakes found an island of firm earth in the heart of Richard's swamp. The island had been beautifully landscaped, and an opulent compound had been built there. There was a fine marble villa, a menagerie, a swimming pool, and a small village of well made, but smaller, houses.

There were also the four shrines that stood in front of the villa. They were small temples dedicated to Eros, Aphrodite, Dionysus, and Hermes. Each held a life-sized and life-like statue of the god it represented. The enormous wealth that had to have been squandered on such glorified lawn ornaments enraged William II and his wife. The money so spent would have been a substantial inheritance.

Young William's parents hurried to the villa, seeking money and portable wealth. The teen, however, had felt an odd attraction to the island from the moment it had come into sight. Now that he stood on this unknown shore, he felt drawn to the shrines that stood before the main house. Of the four, the strongest pull came from the temple of Hermes. He could have resisted, but the teenaged Drake was curious about this new feeling, and arrogant enough to know that no harm could befall him.

William III strode into the enclosure. As he crossed the threshold, the interior of the shrine seemed to change. For one thing, it seemed larger, now that he was inside. Much more disturbing was the apparent change of the statue that occupied the pedestal at the center of the room.

The statue of Hermes had seemed life-like from outside the temple. It had been painted, in classic fashion, to give that resemblance of life. Now, Young William felt that too good a job had been done. It was a statue, and could not be alive, but it seemed to radiate life.

The youth turned to leave, and found a number of strangers standing behind him. One was a middle-aged man in a plum-colored business suit, with a flashy yellow and purple tie. He was heavyset, and had little gray hair left on his nearly bald head. The man smiled in the manner of one who knew an amusing secret. A group of young people stood behind this odd-looking man. The men and boys wore homespun trousers. The women and girls wore skirt-like wraps of the same material. None wore shoes, and all were naked above the waist. The teen's eyes were drawn naturally to the bare breasts of the females.

"Hello, young sir," the man said brightly. "You would be William M Drake the Third, yes?"

"Yes," the youth answered warily. "And who are you?"

"I'm Harland Jensen, of Jensen, Walker, Bligh, and Stroud." Jensen offered his hand to the youth. "I'm your great-uncle's attorney and the executor of his Will." William took the offered hand. The lawyer's handshake was firm, but something felt wrong to the teenaged Drake, and he broke the handclasp as quickly as he could.

"My father and mother are in the main house, Mr. Jensen," William said. "They are the ones that you must be looking for."

"On the contrary, my young friend, you are the one to whom I wish to speak." William didn't care for a stranger addressing him as 'friend', nor did he understand how he could be the one the lawyer wished to speak to.

"What business could you have with me, Mr. Jensen?" the teen asked gruffly.

"According to Ricky's Will, the first relative from outside of the swamp to set foot in one of the four temples will be his sole heir. You are that relative." William III was shocked speechless by the announcement. "Of course, you are a minor, but Ricky, the wise old devil, planned for that possibility. In the event that a minor child is the sole heir, the entire estate shall be held in trust by the firm of Jensen, Walker, Bligh, and Stroud, until his or her twenty-first birthday." Jensen winked at William. "This way, any relations who might think to cheat you of your inheritance, parents for example, will be unable to do so." What the lawyer said made sense to William. Father would happily spend my inheritance. In seven years, there would be little or none left. But how do I know this man won't help himself to it while he holds it in trust?

<<You may trust Harland Jensen, >> a voice declared. It seemed to come from behind William, but none of the others gave any sign of hearing it. The young Drake turned to find the statue of Hermes. Now, its eyes were focused on William, and its lips had formed a smile. <<He has sworn an oath before we gods worshiped on this island that he will serve the heir of Richard Drake as he served Richard Drake, himself, until the heir reaches his majority.>>

"What-who are you?" Young William asked, his calm arrogance evaporating rapidly.

<<I am Hermes, god of merchants, thieves, and sorcerers. Messenger of the Gods.>> The voice sounded young, but solemn. <<You are drawn to these four temples, because you, alone among your great-uncle's potential heirs, have the gifts to become a sorcerer. You were drawn to my temple because your natural inclination leans more to my sphere of influence.>>

"Your sphere of influence? What do you mean? What is this about? What do you want?"

"It was Ricky's wish that his heir be given his books of sorcery, so that he or she might follow in his footsteps," Harland Jensen answered. William turned to find the lawyer and the others kneeling in the temple floor. "We now know which god will be your patron."

William had never believed in magic, but now, he knew with absolute certainty that it was real. Being spoken to by a god had completely changed his attitude. Harland Jensen began Drake's lessons in magic the next day.

While his parents continued to search the villa, Jensen showed the teenaged William around the island. He showed the youth the menagerie, and explained how Richard had used the exotic animals within for his sexual pleasure. His carnal liaison with a puma being the act that ended his life. Jensen introduced the young people as Richard's illegitimate children and orgy partners. He explained that as they had belonged to Richard, now they belonged to young William, to use as he saw fit.

The teenaged Drake learned that Richard had been a dedicated hedonist. He had spent his life and much of his fortune exploring the limits of sensual pleasure. There was nothing he wouldn't try and Drake learned that Richard's sons, as well as his daughters, had joined their father in bed. Young William explained that his sexual interest was directed solely to females, but he had no objection to the way the people had lived on Richard's island. Even then, Drake had considered morality to be a straightjacket, which the weak fashioned to bind the strong. He knew that his hypocritical parents would act shocked and appalled, since this was expected by society. Such things as homosexuality and sex outside of marriage were horrible evils. The fact that both parents were having affairs was not important.

Jensen arranged for the local who had brought the Drakes to the island to leave, and not return for a week. Jensen explained to the elder Drakes that the man had needed to leave for a family emergency. He calmed them with the knowledge that there were ample provisions and fresh water on the island. The servants could easily prepare rooms in the villa for the family, and fix their meals.

William heard his parents complain about the incredible amount of skin the servants left bare. He also saw the way they would surreptitiously steal glances at the attractive young bodies around them. They didn't even complain when they were told that Roman custom was followed in the villa, and husband and wife were expected to sleep in separate rooms.

The meal was excellent. The wine however was very special. It had been blessed by the power of Dionysus. The Drake parents were placed in a happy stupor by its power. Once the parents were taken to their rooms, the women and girls returned to the dining room, and removed their wraps.

They explained to the virginal youth that, as the new master of his uncle's house, he need not sleep alone. He could have any of his illegitimate cousins, as many as he wanted, whenever he wanted. Drake felt like a small child in a candy store. But it was a new and unfamiliar candy that he was being offered, so he decided to try a small sample first.

He selected a girl named Lucille. She was two years older than Drake, and very experienced. That night, she was young William's guide into the world of carnal pleasure.

Drake's parents were kept entertained through the week with the special wine, and the sexual attentions of the servants. Drake was kept busy learning the fundamentals of Greek style sorcery. Along the way, he learned more about the curious society Richard Drake had created.

Richard had called upon the power of Eros to make two women into his lust slaves. They had been the first. In time, they became pregnant, and when their children turned twelve, they would join Richard's sex circle. They were trained to know their inferiority and their place as their father's servants and sex toys. They, in turn, had children, and their children were raised for the same purpose. Any of Richard's children who grew old or unattractive were sent to live in the swamp, growing rice, gathering edible plants, hunting, and fishing.

When the week was over, the boat arrived, and carried the Drakes back across the swamp. William II and his wife didn't really know what had happened beyond the fact that they had had a good time, and would be happy to let their son return to the island during the summer. And for three summers, Young William did just that. Learning what Harland Jensen could teach him, and studying his dead uncle's books and papers during the rest of the year.

William Drake III was never fully satisfied with what he learned in that time. Most of Uncle Richard's rituals were meant for providing and increasing sensual pleasure and providing good fortune. Pleasure and luck were fine, but William desired power. Wealth could provide some power, but not to the extent the young man wanted. During his first year of college, young Drake found a new teacher, and a new path to follow.

Hans Ziegler taught Latin and Greek. His real name was Johan Heitzler. He had been a member of the SS, and was in hiding.

He had served in the Ahnenerbe, the section of the SS that dealt with Ancestral Heritage. They were the historians and archeologists of the Nazi Reich. In addition to seeking proof of an ancient Europe-spanning Aryan civilization, they hunted for occult artifacts around the globe. These activities were well known, and ridiculed, by the world at large. Much less well known was their study of magic.

Heitzler had been a Nazi sorcerer. He sensed Drake's potential. He used a divination ritual to learn more, and learned of the young man's thirst for power. More importantly, he learned that Drake's lineage was unpolluted by inferior blood.

Heitzler revealed all this to Drake, and offered to teach him the Germanic sorcery of the SS. This was the power that Drake desired. These were the rituals to call calamity down upon any who opposed him.

The Nazi became Drake's new teacher. William abandoned the path of Hermes for the stern, warlike Germanic gods. He did not return to the island again until the summer after he graduated from college. Drake was twenty-one, and he came to claim his inheritance.

Harland Jensen had the papers ready when William arrived. The lawyer felt that the young man had betrayed the memory of Richard Drake by studying another form of sorcery. He was anxious to be free of any further responsibility to the younger Drake.

William was certain that Jensen would become an enemy as soon as he was released from his oath. Drake preempted any trouble by killing Jensen. Doing so had proven very easy. The lawyer had no knowledge of killing rituals, or how to defend against them.

The island people were more of a problem to deal with. The blessings of Eros prevented the negative effects of their incestuous ways. That benign influence was in their very blood. They would never succumb to hereditary illnesses and deformities. But, generations of being conditioned to serve had left them unable to look after themselves.

William had no intention of staying on the island. The climate didn't really agree with him, and he had no interest in becoming a hermit. He could have simply killed them, but that seemed wasteful.

He finally decided to sell many of them. There were individuals, organizations, and even a few nations that had no problem with slavery. Likewise, their sexual talents would make them highly desirable commodities. The remainder he would keep as his servants, and as a convenient, renewable source of human sacrifices.

They could also make diverting sex toys, but Drake had no intention of limiting himself to them. Power meant having sex with whomever one wanted, however one wanted, and the young man sought power.

The island looked quite different as Drake returned with his captured Hetsiuib. Three swamp boats were moored at the dock, and the wing of the gangsters' airplane was visible behind the main house. The villa and the shrines were still maintained by the remaining swamp people, but the small village of cottages had fallen into disrepair. The menagerie had long been empty of animals. It had suffered neglect and the passage of time, but over the past ten years, Drake had ordered the steel and stone structure repaired and maintained.

The menagerie was a rectangular building. There were entrances at either end. There were display cages along both sides, with remotely actuated doors linking each cage to its neighbors, and to the inner 'den' cages. The dens were where the animals could take shelter in bad weather, or be treated by the staff. The doors linking the cages were to allow the animals to be mated to each other. Using his magic to compel animals of widely different species to mate had been one of Uncle Richard's little hobbies. There were no more animals, but Drake had thought of a new use for this place of confinement.

The surviving gangsters, and two thugs in Drake's employ, met the swamp boat as it arrived. Sophia Anne helped her wounded brother out of the boat. She and one of the remaining mafia soldiers supported Marcelli as he hobbled toward the main house. Drake's thugs and the last gangster lifted the Hetsiuib, and carried him to the menagerie. Drake walked nervously beside his prize. Marcelli's stupidity had sorely injured the Hetsiuib, and it had been unable to rest and regain its strength. The creature's eyes were open, but unseeing, and its breathing sounded ragged.

The minions carried the Hetsiuib to a den that had been prepared for him. Inside was a lightproof, lidded box that Drake had commissioned as a resting place for his Hetsiuib. Joshua was unaware of his surroundings. In his weakness, he knew only that he needed rest, yet he could not rest. He was beyond even feeling the cushioned interior of the box he was lowered into. When the lid closed, and all light was shut away, Joshua slipped into welcome oblivion.

Baba Yaga, Siberia

Olga was stiff and aching from the hours of rough sex she had shared with her demonic comrade. Still, there was work to do, and no time for rest. She went to the living quarters on the second level, took a quick shower, and helped herself to a uniform that was about the right size. Nefer assumed his cat form and cleaned himself in the feline manner.

They went to the research and enchantment laboratories on the third through sixth levels. Olga took such useful things as she could carry. Many things had already been taken. Possibly Director Orlov had taken some useful equipment when he fled. Or, assuming they had time to loot the place, and the knowledge of what to take, the foul traitors may have made off with some of the more portable items.

When she was done in the labs, Olga went to the Nazi vault, the storage chamber for all of the occult talismans and unearthly leftovers of the Nazi magic program. The door to the vault was made of a laminate of steel and silver. It was marked with powerful wards, to resist magical assault. The wards were also there to restrain certain of the vault's contents.

Like the Soviet rocket and jet research programs, Directorate twenty-seven owed much to the efforts of their Hitlerite predecessors. Luckily, Nazi blundering had blunted the effectiveness of their technological programs, and the appointment of Heinrich Himmler as the chief of their magic program had likewise doomed that effort.

Himmler had possessed advantages in the field of magic that no other nation had. The Thule Society, the last great European mystical order, was soundly in the Nazi camp. Nazi mystics had developed a means, not only to detect people with sorcerous talent, but those with the gift of magery. With such advantages, and his own strong occult background, Himmler should have been able to turn the tide of war to the Nazis' favor.

But, in addition to his knowledge and belief of the occult, Himmler was a real crackpot on racial issues. Any mages or sorcerers not of pure, Aryan blood were exterminated as potential threats to the race. Only those magically talented people who were racially pure enough to belong to the SS were allowed to learn magic.

All were drafted into the SS, or special units of the Hitler youth. They were trained in the sorceries of their Germanic ancestors, and the dark rites of Himmler's own making. In perhaps his grandest blunder, Himmler had selected the most talented and promising of his SS sorcerers and mages to be human sacrifices. They would be beheaded, and spells and rituals cast on their heads, in an effort to communicate with long dead German heroes, and the Norse gods.

Within the Nazi vault were some of their greatest successes and most horrifying failures. Many of the successes had been copied, and improved upon by the rational approach of socialist sorcery, but a few continued to be unsolved enigmas. The means for detecting mages, for example was lost. There was no desire to replicate the Nazi mistakes. They were here to be contained, much like hazardous waste. And like hazardous waste, they were a lingering problem with no known means of disposal.

Olga donned a number of protective talismans before she set her hand upon the recognizer plate beside the door. She spoke the proper words, and the vault door swung open.

She quickly grabbed the useful puzzles that had yet to be solved. Where there should have been four power focusing crystals, there were only two. The KGB officer had a strong suspicion about where the other two were. She grabbed the box that held twenty very special silver rings, and a dagger that could cut through steel like butter.

There was one last item to save, but Colonel Sverdlova hesitated. It was a failure of Nazi magic, a spectacular, horrible failure, but a potentially useful one. It was the size of a hatbox, made of meteoric iron, the most magic-dead material known. The thing within could defeat any magical ward, given time, and time was one thing it had in plenty. Only the meteoric iron box could contain it indefinitely. Even so, Olga could feel the power emanating from within, like the touch of a blind predator, sensing its prey is nearly within reach. The KGB officer grabbed the handles and loaded the heavy box onto a cart. She left, closing the vault door behind her.

Olga took all of the items that she judged worth saving to a circular room, about fifteen meters in diameter, on the fourth level. The ceiling and floor were etched in complex geometric patterns with electrum. She put all of the items in the center of the room, and hurried to a cleaning supply closet nearby. Inside the closet was an analog control panel, hidden by the strongest illusions the sorcerers of Directorate Twenty-Seven could conjure. The control panel held two groups of nine dials, set like the tumblers on a bike chain lock, and a timer, with a setting dial and an on/off switch. The two focusing crystals had been set into sockets on the control panel's face. They enabled the facility's power supply to energize the circular room.

"Remain in the transport room," Olga instructed Nefer. "I have one thing left to do. Then we will be leaving Baba Yaga for the last time."

Lieutenant Colonel Sverdlova rode the elevator to the eighth level. It was the lowest level, and largest single chamber in the facility. Within was one of only two elemental furnaces ever built in the Soviet Union. The other was installed in an experimental submarine.

The elemental furnace drew power from an elemental spirit trapped within. Much of the furnace's bulk came from the two meter thick containment vessel. The finest heat resistant ceramics and the strongest alloys were used to build the containment vessel. They were sufficient to hold the elemental in check, so long as it remained unconscious. The staff of Baba Yaga had tried to warn the navy that using more than ten percent of the output potential of the reactor could be dangerous, but they wouldn't listen.

Ten percent was more than ample to run the submarine at its designed speed, but during tests, the captain decided to see what the boat could really do. The resulting explosion had been mistaken for a large scale seismic disturbance by the West. Tsunamis had even been generated. The cost of building the units, and the danger on a repeat explosion of that magnitude had put an end to the project. The surviving furnace had provided power for Baba Yaga for nearly twenty years. Now, it would provide the ultimate means to keep the facility out of enemy hands. Olga set the controls at five percent power. Then she set them to slowly increase power until manual control was reactivated. Next, the colonel smashed the manual override into unworkable junk.

Olga hurried to the elevator. There was time to spare, but she saw no reason to dally. Once the furnace passed ten percent output, there would be an increasing chance that the elemental spirit would wake. There would be no containing it then.

The KGB officer returned to the control panel in the closet. She set the timer for thirty seconds, and hurried to the transport room. Olga took Nefer in her arms, and stood next to the useful items. Half a minute later, there was a flash of intense light, and then the chamber was empty.

Captain Gregorov was leading the few Spetznaz survivors though the blizzard. Already, three men had died of exposure, but the veteran of Afghanistan was sure that his shrinking band was getting closer to the Border Guard airbase. Once more, the KGB had demanded the aid of their army comrades. Once more, the KGB had failed in their part of the operation. They should have let me shoot those two when they arrived, the young captain thought bitterly. But only the KGB may kill their own. We soldiers are good enough to guard the door, like loyal dogs, but we are not trusted to take the life of even a traitor in a KGB uniform. This will not be forgotten so long as I live. At that moment, the frozen forest was lit as if on the brightest day. The light was coming from behind Captain Gregorov, from the direction of Baba Yaga. He and his men turned in time to see a great fiery object rise into the sky. It looked like a flaming bird, but with humanoid characteristics. There was little time to puzzle out what it might be, for the shockwave hit a moment later, flattening trees, and crushing the life out of the soldiers.

Niflheim, Realm of the Norse Gods

Loki was angry. Some fool was daring to interfere with one of his human dupes. Not only was this unknown sorcerer daring to punch holes in the defensive rituals around Loki's minion, he or she had even attacked Loki's spirit servants and driven them from Midgard.

He was thought to be a prisoner, guarded by Hela, Goddess of Death, and her demon hound, Garm. Loki was thought to be held on an island that also acted as the prison of Fenris, the giant wolf. The gods of Asgard had taken Loki and his two youngest sons to that desolate island after the death of Balder. The innocent Vali was turned into a wolf, and made to tear open his brother's belly. Narfi's entrails were torn from his still living body and used to fashion his father's bonds. The gods could have slain Vali then, so that he might be able to join his brother in death, but they chose to chain him near his father.

In truth, Hela was a poor choice of jailer. She was a daughter of Loki, sister of Fenris, and half-sister of the innocent Vali and Narfi. Loki was quickly freed from his bonds and allowed to move about as he wished. Garm was his loyal bodyguard, and Vali his constant companion.

Due to the powerful magic worked by the gods, Loki could not restore Vali to his true form, nor could he visit his brother in his current form. Only death would free him from his wolfish shape and reunite him with Narfi. Loki did not give such freedom to his son. He sensed that the boy might still be useful to him, and was in no hurry to be rid any such tool.

Today, Loki was heading for the border of Niflheim. He would go forth and see for himself what stupid mortal dared to defy him. The God of Lies considered briefly if one of his godly adversaries might have had a hand in this reversal, but dismissed the possibility. The gods of Asgard were not so subtle. Besides, all who dwelt there were bound by Odin's oath of brotherhood to Loki. They could not raise a hand against him except if Loki struck first. To do so would cost them their place among the gods. Loki chose to leave Garm on the island, in case one of those nosy ravens came snooping around. It would look suspicious to the servants of Odin if Loki's 'jailer' was not there. Only Vali accompanied his father.

Ysdrad spotted his Lord's enemy as he passed through the gates of Niflheim.

"My Lord, the hated one approaches," the elf whispered.

"How many guards does he bring?" Hoder asked.

"None, My Lord. Only a small wolf accompanies him." Ysdrad was pleased by the apparent arrogance of the enemy, but he saw that his god's countenance remained grim.

Hoder knew that the wolf was Vali, son of Loki. The hated, laughing demon had spawned monsters uncountable in his many liaisons. All but three of his children had turned out as vile and evil as their father. Sleipnir, Odin's mighty eight-legged horse, was one. The twins, Vali and Narfi, were the other two.

Hoder had been tricked by Loki into killing his own brother. In what Hoder still considered the greatest injustice ever committed by the gods, Loki was to be spared, but his two sons were made to reenact the crime of fratricide. More innocent blood was spilled, and Hoder received the sentence of death for his unknowing participation in his brother's murder. Balder was the most beloved of the gods, and the favorite son of Odin. None of the gods could bring themselves to carry out the death sentence, thus depriving Odin of another child. In his rage and grief, Hoder turned his back on his kin, and fled Asgard, never to return, except under the cover of darkness.