The Fountain of Youth (Order of the Black Sun Book 15) Read online

  “Mrs. Patterson,” Purdue addressed the Dean’s mother. “How about a turn around the vast dance floor, you and I?”

  “Good idea!” Daniel cheered, but the lackluster look on Christa’s face denied him the pleasure. He turned his attentions elsewhere. “Mrs. Cotswald?”

  “Would love to, but my dancing days ended a long time ago,” she smiled regrettably.

  Daniel smiled, holding out his hand to Mrs. Cotswald. “No worries, I have two left feet. We can stumble about together.” To Christa’s dismay they both stood and locked hands to dance. She could feel the property slip out of her hands. She looked at Clara, motioning with her eyes that they should check on Nina.

  “Excuse me,” Clara said. “I’ve had too much wine.”

  Purdue watched her leave, but stayed where he was, intending to trail Christa instead. Also, he had a few questions for Mrs. Patterson. He was hoping that, while he danced with Mrs. Patterson, the music would drown their conversation.

  “Are you thinking what I am thinking?” he asked.

  “What is that, deary?” Mrs. Patterson asked, pleasantly surprised that he even brought it up and that she was not alone in her thinking.

  “Well, Mrs. Cotswald followed the trail of her daughters to this building, to Prof. Ebner, your adoptive father.” He shrugged. “Just uncanny, that’s all.”

  “Mr. Purdue, what are you implying?” she asked.

  “I think you know, my dear Mrs. Patterson. You were adopted by Prof. Ebner, correct?”

  She nodded, so he pried some more. “You lived here when the Cotswalds first tried to buy the property, and you were here when Mr. Cotswald discovered the fountain of youth before he…disappeared. Mrs. Cotswald should have been, if you’ll forgive my insensitivity, a name on a mausoleum by now. I can’t help but feel that both the spring under the rock fountain and the prospect of finding her daughters here have both had something to do with her wanting this property for so many years.”

  When he looked down at his dance partner again, tears were trickling from her eyes, glistening in the soft lights of the ballroom. “My son has been trying to find my biological mother for years, Mr. Purdue. But his wife has kept the records from reaching him every time. I think it’s because she knows that I…” she hesitated, shooting a glance at Mrs. Cotswald, “am also the product of a Lebensborn union.”

  Her response confirmed his notion, but he did not fully realize until now that this meant he was surrounded by members of the Order, and not all of them were malicious toward him.

  As if Mrs. Patterson knew what he was thinking, she whispered, “Prof. Ebner adopted my sister and I, but he was not a kind man. I suppose that came with the territory of being a Nazi scientist. You know, he was one of Himmler’s finest and pleased the Führer greatly with his discovery of the elixir that could stump aging. Not only would the Lebensborn program deliver strong Aryan stock, but they believed administering the elixir would yield the longevity desired from a super race.”

  “So you partook in the elixir too?” Purdue asked.

  “We had to. But when I learned that my adoptive mother was killed after an altercation with the professor, my sister and I rebelled against him. We refused to be his experiment, especially after the properties of the water he prepared introduced some sort of mild mercury poisoning to our systems. One night my sister pushed him too far and…” she choked, dropping her eyes, “…he drowned her in that very fountain. He punished her. For rejecting his work and refusing to drink that water he simply drowned her in it.”

  “But he didn’t kill you,” Purdue said, frowning.

  “I lied to him. I pretended to drink from it, leading him to think that his elixir was useless. To him, I was still aging even though I drank of it, rendering his hard work worthless. As a result, feeling that he’d disappointed the Order and the memory of Himmler and the Führer, he shot himself,” she said evenly, with not a sign of remorse. “I indirectly caused his death and I inherited this fortress he had turned into an educational institution. And Christa hates that I hold the scepter here.”

  Purdue was fascinated. Mrs. Patterson did not care about eternal youth or power, the same hunch he’d had about Mrs. Cotswald. It would appear that they really were related if only by their principals. Christa’s movement caught his eye. She put down her empty wineglass and stood up when Clara returned. They were discussing something in urgency.

  To his disappointment their conversation was quite harmless. Christa turned off the music. “Sorry, everyone. I just want to show our guests to their rooms,” she said with a smile. “Clara agreed to give up her room for you, Mrs. Cotswald. If that is alright?”

  “That’s not necessary,” Mrs. Cotswald protested cordially. “I can get a hotel room.”

  “Rubbish! The Dean and I insist,” Christa said smiling. Her husband nodded in agreement.

  Purdue waited to hear that he could use Nina’s cottage, but instead was offered a room at the Dean’s house. It was the ultimate proof that Christa wanted him close to her surveillance and he got the message. Without objection he accepted her invitation, but he would not be kept from snooping. It was not in David Purdue’s nature to be denied exploration.

  As he was lying on his bed in the third spare room of the Dean’s large home, Purdue was checking his tablet, coupled with the device he still had not even named. Using Nina’s biometric information, he entered a search in Wolverhampton, just in case Christa, for once, was not lying. His stomach was churning at the thought of her being so very lost, so very untraceable, even more than when she’d first cut communication with him. A morose, emotional void filled Purdue. He could not decide which was worse – losing Nina forever to death, or knowing that she was alive and well while he was dead to her.

  “Nothing,” he whispered in the quiet night, after the hosts had retired to bed. “Nothing, nothing, nothing. Wolverhampton, nothing. Hook, nothing. Nina, where are you?”

  His window, and he did check first, was facing out toward the street, away from the courtyard. Christa wanted to make sure that Purdue had no way of investigating while she was asleep. Clara had her own cottage that Purdue did not know the location of, which posed a problem too. An almost inaudible knock at his window coaxed Purdue to take a peek.

  Carefully he stole to the window and pulled the drapes aside. He kept his tall frame concealed behind the wall as he did, just in case the barrel of a gun was calling on him on the other side of the window. Instead he found the beckoning face of Mrs. Patterson standing in her tracksuit and a beanie, giving him a wave to open the window a crack. Through the slit of the frame she slipped him her copy of the house key and whispered, “I’ll wait by the door when you’re ready.”

  When he opened the bedroom door, he was confronted with a long, darkened corridor that ran past the open bedroom of the Dean and his wife. Barefoot, Purdue stalked past where he heard the soft snoring of his hosts, wondering if Clara was occupying one of the other rooms tonight. Carefully he peered around the doorway into the Dean’s room and found that two bodies occupied the double bed. Quickly he passed, thankful for the ongoing rainstorm that masked the sounds of his movement.

  Barely had he reached the front door when Christa sat up in her bed. Wary of waking her husband, she picked up the phone and called the main building of the academy. Three rings later the phone was answered. Christa’s brow darkened as she heard the front door click shut. “They’re coming. Get ready.”

  Chapter 28

  Nina fell into darkness more than wakefulness as her body donated her life force to the evil society she was at perpetual war with. The chair was sticky under her buttocks from the involuntary urination that had happened while she’d been unconscious during the first few hours she was held. As her blood became less, her blood pressure dipped dangerously. Hypoxia had already been prevalent before having her blood drawn out of her and Nina’s chest was aching far more than the lung cancer could ever batter her with. The lack of oxygen in her system, along with th
e gradual exsanguination, was draining her of every ounce of energy and rendering her mentally unstable.

  During the times she was barely conscious, Nina would talk to herself, but she had no recollection of what she was talking about. Finally, she laughed a lot between petit mal seizures and the awful constriction of her clammy skin, the result of her neurological torment. Her senses were going haywire, sending her already frail body into tremors and chills. Nina stared into the darkness where the blurry, flickering lights of the pump were the only sign that she could still see through her failing eyes.

  So many regrets filled her as she tried to remember who she was. Nina felt her memories wane as her life slipped away – her name, her origins, her family. Somewhere in between the fleeting images and sour contrition, Nina thought of a man; no, two men.

  “Who are you?” she mumbled behind her gag, relieved that she could hear her voice articulating words. It was her way of maintaining her sanity while her body grew heavier and her heart grew tired of trying. “Hey!” she shouted to the two men who kept her company. “I know you, right?” Then she would laugh to convince herself she was happy, only to feel the nausea pressure her. Headaches had become as common as breathing, and Nina’s well-groomed nails had broken off in the upholstery of the chair from the spasms of agony that blazed through her veins.

  There was a dark-haired man with big dark eyes, wearing a scarf. His hair was wild and sexy, and his voice was clear, but she had no idea what he was saying. Next to him stood a taller man, the antithesis of the other. His hair was white, and behind his glasses his eyes were a piercing blue-green. Nina giggled. “I love you. All of you, I mean, all…both of you…you both…”

  She frowned, trying to figure out where she was and why she could see these unknown men while there was no light source around her. Her thigh muscles burned like liquid fire as the male figures looked on. Then they’d be gone, and she would weep tears she did not possess. She was alone, except for the chit-chat of pain.

  ***

  Purdue and Mrs. Patterson rushed through the rain to get to the main building of the fortress of St. Vincent’s Academy. “Mrs. Patterson, wait!” Purdue called softly. “Great Scot, I can’t keep up with you. I think your juice is still strong.”

  Mrs. Patterson had to chuckle at the inferior fitness of the young Scottish man. “Maybe so, deary. I won’t be old until they close the lid. Now hurry and keep that crow bar handy. Limber as I might be, I don’t have the strength to deliver a good pummeling.”

  “Right,” Purdue replied through wet lips. He tightened his grip on the crow bar the old lady had brought him. “I thought you stayed in the Dean’s house, by the way.”

  She looked horrified. “Och, no! You think I could tolerate that harpy for one single day under the same roof? Hell’s bells, no! I live in the aptly named ‘granny flat’ in their yard.”

  “And Clara?” he asked. She was his biggest cause for concern; a wildcard that could be anywhere at any time.

  “Like Nina she, stays in a cottage on campus grounds. I’m so glad the students have left for the long weekend. My God, she was draining them without keeping track on the amount of energy she took from them,” Mrs. Patterson chattered almost non-stop now that she could tell someone outright.

  “The students?” Purdue gasped in horror. “Didn’t she consider the amount of legal repercussions she could subject the college to?”

  “My dear, she is not here for the love of teaching,” she said, cocking her head in sarcasm as they made it through an auxiliary entrance to the ground floor interior.

  “How does she drain them?” he pressed for information to establish how strong an opponent she would be.

  Mrs. Patterson looked up and pointed to the ceiling. “The air-conditioning system, Mr. Purdue.” He was astonished at the amount of trouble Dr. Smith had gone to just to stay young and perpetuate her nefarious vampirism. She was way past any affiliation with the Black Sun. In fact, he suspected that Smith had broken away from her duties in the organization when she married into Ebner’s family.

  “How do you know where Nina is, Mrs. Patterson? It’s rather suspect, you understand,” he told the elderly lady, who nodded in agreement.

  “I heard an ungodly explosion down in the archive room, even above the clapping thunder and the din of the downpour yesterday,” she reported as they neared the stairway to the basement floor. “So I came to investigate.”

  “An explosion?” he asked.

  “It sounded like an earthquake, but it was, in fact, one of the walls in the archive room that collapsed when Dr. Gould accidentally toppled a heavy file cabinet. The impact made the wall give way, so that made a ghastly noise. But when I came to check if Nina was alright, I found Christa and Clara circling the poor girl, toting a bloody Beretta at her!” she said as quietly as she could.

  “Good God! Did they shoot her?” Purdue asked with an ashen face.

  “No, but I know where they took her,” she said seriously.

  “Why didn’t you interfere then?” he inquired angrily. “Why did you allow them to draw us away earlier when we were right there?”

  “David, such a confrontation would have jeopardized the safety of Mrs. Cotswald and yourself, not to mention the fact that she’d kill my son the moment I was out of the way. She wants St. Vincent’s, don’t you see?” she retorted. “There!” she pointed to the vanishing stairwell.

  Reaching the trapdoor, Mrs. Patterson kept watch as Purdue strained to break the lock. It was a hardy, iron contraption that lived up to its name. Purdue took to the hinges instead.

  “Clever,” Mrs. Patterson remarked.

  “Ta,” Purdue groaned as he busted the second hinge.

  With the thunder roaring every few minutes the two of them descended the stairs into the archive room where Nina had made her office. Purdue used his tablet for light, the strong beam illuminating the dusty tomb of papers and records.

  “Oh Jesus!” Purdue exclaimed inadvertently as his light fell on the broken wall and the leering skeleton within. The new air that had been let into the chasm had worked at deteriorating the fine bones and clothing, but Mrs. Patterson recognized the style of clothing as belonging to the historian who attended during the early nineties.

  “That’s Dr. Dittmar Cotswald, that,” she affirmed while Purdue stared.

  “Great. But we aren’t here to free him. Pray to God that Nina is not in the same condition,” he reminded her. “Where is she, Mrs. Patterson?”

  “When I was a little girl, Prof. Ebner used to experiment on me and my sister in here,” she struggled to say. Before Purdue could reply, she pulled a hidden lever and the wall shifted aside. Cautiously Purdue shone his light into the small tunnel, looking to his partner for encouragement.

  “I wish there were a window here. The lightning would have helped much to navigate through here,” he whispered. Vaguely he could hear laughing, muffled by fabric or wood. Purdue was not a man of colorful imagination or ghostly affinity, but the prospect of what caused those sounds just creeped him out completely. “Well, we have the right weather for the kind of feelings I’m feeling.”

  “Yes, I’m scared shitless too, deary,” the spirited old lady agreed. She clung to Purdue’s arm as they progressed and then whispered, “Okay, soon the room should be on your left.”

  Purdue lit ahead and there it was, an entrance without any door. The hideous mumbling and laughing were coming from inside. As they drew closer they could perceive the sound of a machine humming while every now and then a beep would sound.

  What Purdue saw when he turned the corner far surpassed any horror film he could place with the weather. His light fell on Nina, tied to a grotesque chair, her thigh seeping blood that pooled in a dry coppery mess on the chair. Her eyes had gone from bright and brown to bloodshot and milky, staring insanely at him. Pale blue from the cold chamber, her skin exhibited the dead paleness of a cadaver.

  “Jesus Christ, no!” Purdue wept instantly, rushing to pluck th
e needle from her before it could take another ounce from her.

  “No!” Mrs. Patterson yelled, grabbing his hand. “If you pull it out she will hemorrhage…”

  “She is hemorrhaging now!” he screamed at Mrs. Patterson, his wet eyes fuming and hopeless. “I can’t let her endure one more second!”

  They did not hear Clara sneak up behind them. A thunderous shot echoed through the lower floor as she gunned down Mrs. Patterson. Purdue shouted and lunged forward to punch the gun-wielding woman right in the face. Her nose broke on impact and she fell to the ground, but she tried to shoot again. Purdue kicked the gun from her hand and scooped it up to put in his pocket. Crouching down next to her, he grabbed handful of her hair and hissed, “Get Nina free or I will bash your skull in right here.”

  “I know you, right?” Nina slurred slowly at Purdue as Clara removed the gag before removing the needle from her thigh. Purdue sobbed, holding the diminished hand of his ex-girlfriend in his, afraid that it would grow limp while he warmed it.

  “Yes, you know me,” he said, smiling through his tears.

  Nina smiled weakly. “Aye. You’re Sam.”

  Purdue swallowed hard. His heart broke again, but he had to make sure hers kept going. He growled at Clara. “Give her a transfusion! Put her blood back immediately!”

  “I can’t do that,” Clara started to explain through collapsed nasal cavities, but Purdue dealt her a backhand that sent her reeling.

  “Put her blood back!” he shouted, cradling Nina in his arms. “My God, you’re so thin,” he whispered as her boney body poked his skin. Mrs. Patterson groaned from the corner where she had collapsed.

  “It’s too late,” Mrs. Patterson told Purdue. “Her organs are failing already.”

  “No! I will fix her. Just give her blood for long enough and I will fix it all,” Purdue insisted, his voice twisting in desperation as he laid his face on Nina’s chest. There was barely any sign of a heartbeat. “I just need to get you to the Faroe Islands, Nina. They have water there that could cure you, give you back your health, and even keep you young! Just hold on,” he cried, “just long enough for me to get you to Sam. He’s waiting, do you hear? Sam is waiting for you.”