Fire Under the Mountain: A Helena Brandywine Adventure

By Greg Alldredge

The Second Helena Brandywine Adventure

 

Some things are worse than death.

 

Helena Brandywine had what many would consider an idyllic, pampered life during the Gilded Age in San Francisco. But after discovering ugly truths about her family and community, she found the estate and trappings of wealth a Gilded Cage, from which she broke free to search for her parents.

 

Old foes lurk behind every corner while new forces line up against her. An immortal dragon she accidentally released continues to harass her. Unsure who she can trust, she expects betrayal amongst her closest allies.

 

Who are the shadowy figures set against her? Will Helena be able to rescue her parents? Will she die trying? Or worse, end up in an insane asylum?

 

Don’t miss Fire Under the Mountain, the second of the Helena Brandywine Series by Greg Alldredge, if you like Adventure and Fantasy with a strong female hero, then this Young Adult Steampunk novel will have you turning the pages! Come check it out!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Jul 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781976912481

Book preview

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Cell Bound:

Detective Doyle Longstreet leaned against the cool bars, and said, I hope you understand holding a police officer against his will is a serious crime. He felt his temperature rising in the damp, dark cell. Damn it, he thought, stretching out his right arm through the bars, he failed to grab the closest captor.

The two black-robed guards ignored his threat.

Look, fellows, my arm is killing me. Can I get some water or something... it might get infected. Doyle inspected the wrapping Helena had placed over his arrow wound, the blood had soaked the impromptu bandage and dripped down his fingertips.

While Doyle was distracted, a guard answered his request for water with a large wooden bucket full of freezing salt water, dousing his raggedy man disguise. The sudden shock soaking him, causing a deep gasp for breath, until the salt water soaked into his open wound at which time he screamed in excruciating pain.

You bastards, if you’re going to kill me just do it wi— his sentence, cut short. A blast of wind blew down the tunnel with sufficient force to heave Doyle back against the cell wall. Dazed, Doyle struggled to clear his vision; the single torch in the hall vanished along with the two hooded guards, plunging Longstreet in total darkness.

Hell, Doyle said to the universe struggling back to the cell door. Sticking his head between the bars as far as possible he tried to watch down the tunnel; his effort futile.

Is anybody out there?

No one answered his cry.

Don’t leave me down here to starve!

Again silence.

He rested his head against the bars, to mitigate his growing fever.

I don’t think anyone is out there to hear you, came a soft voice from deeper in the cell.

Doyle spun around, behind him sat an ancient Chinese man, flowing white mustache, and beard, it never occurred to him how he now saw him in the inky black cell.

Doyle shook his head. Where did you come from? Doyle’s vision blurred.

I’ve been here the whole time, you might want to come sit down. The Naga’s venom is quick acting, the more you move, the sooner you will die, he said, patting the seat for Doyle to sit next to him.

The detective felt his energy waning, stumbled to the bench to join the seated man. Who are you? Doyle asked slumping next to him.

Always the detective. You may call me Mister Ao. Are you ready for your journey to the afterlife?

Afterlife? No! I am not ready to die. I must get out of here! Helena and Missy are in grave danger!

You are ready to give up your happy afterlife to help the women? Even if it is your time and you risk losing your place in the heavens to purely help two women?

Doyle considered the strange man before answering, I need to help my friends, isn’t that enough to stay behind?

Interesting, do you love one of the women by the pool?

His mind swimming, the effects of the venom slowing is otherwise keen mind. How do know about them, if you were locked up in here? Doyle’s head slid onto the old man’s shoulder, he did his best to avoid the answer.

I know a great many things; however, I am always eager to learn more. Helena will be interrogated in time. Now I am trying to determine what should happen to you.

Right now, I just want to sleep. Can I sleep? It is hotter than hell in here? I need to go help the ladies.

Funny you should use those words.

Doyle slumped unconscious.

Mister Ao, gently laid the detective down on the bench, produced a small vial from his commoner robes, which he proceeded to pour the green contents into Doyle’s mouth, slipping the vial into his ragged uniform pocket.

We will watch how this plays out. It might be most interesting, the old man said before opening the cell door with a wave of his hand.

Still unconscious, Doyle perceived a voice echoing down the tunnel. His eyes fluttered enough to witness a light flash down the tunnel reflecting off the cell bars. He tried to call out at first but found his throat dry and only managed a weak croak. With all the effort he could muster he forced himself to his feet and stumbled towards the open cell door, stepping into the beam of light.

I’ll be damned if it isn’t Detective Longstreet. How did you ever find your way down here? Officer O’Bannon said.

Doyle thought to himself: Of all the beat coppers in San Francisco why did it have to be O’Bannon? Before saying, You got any water? I’m dying of thirst over here, are the women safe? Did you find the women?

O’Bannon and another copper ran to Doyle’s paleface reflecting in the lantern light. You look like one of them vampires should look. You need to take it easy, you look like you’ve lost a lot of blood, O’Bannon said.

Doyle collapsed into their arms before asking again, What of the women?

Half carrying the inspector the beat copper answered, They’ve both been taken to the hospital. We need to take you to Doctor Carlyle so he can have a look at you, you don’t look very good inspector.

Doyle relaxed a little hearing the two women had been taken to the hospital and not to the morgue. Being carried more than led, he did his best to walk on two feet, but his legs didn’t want to cooperate.

Once they reached the opening of the tunnel and the sundeck of the Sutter Baths, Doyle became blinded by the midmorning sun filling the glass room with bright light. However, he was able to see a small army of dark blue uniforms had converged on the baths. I guess our note made it to Mister Wizard.

Doyle? Doctor Carlyle the Coroner asked while inspecting the unnamed body lying next to a mobile Saint Andrew’s Cross. You boys bring a stretcher over here we need to get Doyle off his feet, The Coroner directed two stretcher bearers to assist him. What happened to you man?

Would you believe it? I got shot with an arrow! There were two women here what happened to them? Doyle said as they lowered him onto the stretcher.

You’ll see them soon enough they were unconscious when we got here. They’ve already been transported to the hospital you need to follow them.

Make sure the tunnels are clear. When they took me away, there were hundreds of people surrounding this pool. Doyle laid back as the two stretcher bearers carried him off.

Doyle felt the need to hang onto the stretcher for dear life. The trip up the cliff face terrified him, suspended over a set of stairs with only a low wooden rail separating him from oblivion. The shot of adrenaline from the fear of plummeting to his death kept him awake but also caused his arm to bleed more.

Several shouting reporters met Longstreet all trolling for a statement, once he finally reached the top safely. A handful of police officers kept the reporters at bay with nightsticks.

Inspector, inspector you have any statement for the paper.

Another shouted, Inspector is it true some supernatural creatures were involved in a human sacrifice? Doyle recognized the man from the alleyway a week ago.

Just a moment I want to speak to him, let him through, Doyle said to one of the uniform coppers standing near him.

A reporter approached and asked, You got a statement for me?

You come find me in the hospital, I think you and I need to talk. Doyle slumped back down onto the stretcher.

Sure, thing inspector I’ll be there when you wake up. The thin reporter headed back to his horse readying to follow the ambulance wagon back into town.

Day in Court:

Helena jolted awake, she had never been in a courtroom, but she had read about them in detective stories. This was how she always pictured one to look.

Why did you feel the need to rescue the girls from the Chinatown quarantine? The man asked while facing the jury.

Humm, they were all alone, and in that neighborhood. I wanted to save them, Helena said.

Even if they didn’t need saving?

What? They were in with the plague, I wanted to rescue them.

And what of their families? Did you plan to rescue the families? The prosecutor pressed.

I... I don’t understand the question.

The man finally turned to face her before continuing, Isn’t it true you only wanted to save the children to make a bigger name for yourself? For you, a simple publicity stunt.

Helena had to blink to make sure she wasn’t imagining things, their standing in front of her stood Mister Nobody from Sutter’s Baths, only now he stared at her with one normal eye and one black jade orb. No, that isn’t true... Helena tried to defend her actions, but now she wasn’t sure.

Is it true you murdered the man, Mr. Meiyouren, in cold blood? Changing direction, the prosecutor began a new line of questioning.

Helena stammered, trying to make sense of where she was and what was going on, I... I... Can you repeat the question?

Mister Nobody turned, playing to the jury, You won’t be able to use your youth, or the encumbrance of being a female as a defense in this court young lady. I will ask again is it true you murdered the victim in cold blood?

She assumed she sat in the witnessed box, to her left set the strangest of juries. Twelve replicas of the prosecuting officer all stared at her with twelve real eyes and twelve black orbs. Trying to stall, she studied the judge before asking, Your Honor could I have a short recess I don’t feel well. I need a drink of water.

Your Honor she is stalling, we all know she killed me for no reason. She should be taken to the gallows and hung by the neck until dead, the prosecuting attorney shouted, the jury began chanting hang her, at the top of their lungs.

Helena tried to talk to the judge, but the prosecutor, jury, and the audience had all morphed into the same person. Mister Nobody the one she had stabbed in the eye to save her and Missy’s life.

With one slap of the gavel the judge spoke the word, Silence, and a hush fell over the courtroom.

Helena examined the judge and became instantly surprised there sat a Chinese man behind the bench, a very British white powdered wig perched on top of his head, his black robes hiding everything else about him. Young lady you will answer the question, the judge said.

Helena had no idea how she had gotten from the coast of San Francisco to this courtroom. The last thing she remembered, a voice in her head whispering the word, Sleep. She had no way of telling how long she had been unconscious before waking in this kangaroo court.

If you’re asking did I take the Dragon dagger and plunge it into Mister Nobody’s eye, then the answer is... Yes, I did it. I would do it again to save Missy’s life, and no matter what you say I would still try to save those children from the plague.

Before she finished, the courtroom broke into pandemonium. Hundreds of Mister Nobody’s rushed the witness stand. Helena cringed trying to back away from the mob but had nowhere to go.

Just before they reached her, she heard a single word, Sleep, echo through her head and she thought: Damn it, and she slept.

Helena woke in a magical meadow, she found herself surrounded by flowing purple blooms of wisteria plants which had climbed their way up the tree trunks surrounding her natural sleeping area. The air was warm and scented with a fresh perfume of blooming flowers. Over the trees and odd shaped colorful mushrooms, the size of trees, she distinctly made out pinnacles of natural gemstones jutting towards the sky, with small buildings built on the peaks.

The Reporter:

Doyle paced up and down the hall of the hospital. He’d counted out five paces to one side of Helena’s door, six paces to the other. He would’ve gone five each side but felt that might’ve been strange, also at the end of the fifth step, there was a mirror at number six. Doyle couldn’t stand looking at, the dark rings under his eyes and the ashy color of his skin, which made him look like he belonged in the morgue. Add to the fact he still wore his tattered union uniform disguise, that resembled the walking wounded in the battle of San Juan Hill.

Doctor Carlyle had been correct, the two women waited for him when he arrived at the hospital. Of course, the doctors at the hospital wanted to admit him after they stitched up his arm and replaced the pitiful bandage that Helena had wrapped around it. However, Doyle would have none of that.

He had a gut feeling something strange was going on in the city. Sister Ping was only the beginning, he had a habit of sniffing out crap before he stepped in it, and right now he felt the whole pile of it heading his way.

Inspector, the skinny reporter called from down the hall.

Technically it’s detective, but I’m not going to yell at you too much. I’m glad you could make it.

Anything for a story, you should know that by now.

I know, that’s why I asked you here. Doyle motioned for the reporter to follow him into an empty room he had already inspected while he was pacing the halls.

The reporter grinned widely thinking he might get a scoop on all the other schmucks out there running the streets.

Once inside the empty room, Doyle closed the door behind them. I’m going to suggest an information trading enterprise. If anyone asks me about it, I’ll deny ever having this conversation. You can’t quote me on any information I give you.

Kind of a quid pro quo?

You might say that. I think we might be able to help each other keep the streets a little safer. But we have to work this the right way, or both of our necks will end up in a noose.

What information did you have for me?

First put your little book away and let’s just talk.

The reporter did as he was asked, slipping his notebook into his inside jacket pocket. What’s on your mind detective?

Which paper do you work for?

I work for the San Francisco Inquirer.

Not too big of a rag. You and I both know something strange is happening on the streets.

I agree with you, something supernatural is going on.

A woman by the name of Sister Ping, was responsible for the murders and mutilations of the women dropped on the border between Chinatown and the Barbary Coast. We don’t have a motive yet, and Sister Ping is on the run.

When you say you’re going to give me information you don’t pussyfoot around. What do you want from me?

"You strike me as a reporter who goes where the