The Green Lama: Horror in Clay (The Green Lama Legacy Book 2) by Adam Lance Garcia
Authors: Adam Lance Garcia
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tell you isn’t some fairy tale told to the young about fictional heroes and monsters like Dracula or Frankenstein—though I suppose it is close to the latter. What you have to remember is that while some facts do get lost or aggrandized over the long life of a legend, at the heart of it there is truth. Whether you choose to believe the story or not is inconsequential, as long as you acknowledge that in some abstract sense, this story did happen.
“Rabbi Loew lived in Prague during the late sixteenth century, when the Holy Roman Empire was under the rule of Emperor Rudolf the Second. While obsessed with the occult—he spent his whole life searching for the Philosopher’s Stone—Rudolf the Second was an anti-Semite… not too unlike Germany’s current ruler.” The Rabbi said with venom before trailing off. He stared into the distance, lost in thought.
“Sir?” Dr. Pali said uncertainly.
“I am sorry, Doctor. I’m afraid I lost myself for a moment,” the Rabbi said with a smile. “Such is the price of age. As I was saying, Rudolf was an anti-Semite and, in the spring of 1580, decreed that all the Jews in Prague were to be either expelled or killed. To protect the Jewish citizenry, Rabbi Loew looked into to the Sefer Yetzirah and found the instructions to do just that.”
“And what was that?”
“Life, Dr. Pali,” the Rabbi said, holding up a hand as if he were clutching an invisible orb. “Rabbi Loew created life .”
Chapter 8
A HORROR IN CLAY
“How in high holy hell can he not recognize any of them!?” Caraway slammed his fist onto his desk. “Not a single one!!!”
“I do not know what to tell you, Herr Leutnant. He said none of the suspects looked anything like the perpetrator. Even if the killer was, as you said, in disguise, we have no way of proving it was any of the men we arrested.”
Caraway massaged his throbbing, wounded head, readjusting the bandages as he did. Most of the Special Crime Squad had already trickled out to their respective homes. The remaining officers were carting off their numerous suspects to jail, using outstanding warrants and any number of legal loopholes to keep the criminals behind bars in the interim, just in case. The squad’s headquarters were left in near darkness, the sole illumination coming from the shuttered window of Caraway’s private office.
“I just don’t get it. Everyone we brought in—in one way or more—matched your boy’s description of the killer. The height, the scarring—every single criminal more dangerous than the next.”
Gan nodded in affirmation and leaned back in his chair. He considered the mountain of files Caraway had his men draft up in a vain effort to find new suspects. “But what about the clay ?” Gan asked after a moment. “The substance your associate the Green Lama stole from the crime scene?”
Caraway stared down at the ground, unconsciously rubbing his scarred forefinger. “What about it?”
“Just thinking aloud, if that is the right phrase.” Gan shrugged. “If the substance seemed important enough for the vigilante to abscond with it, I would have imagined you would be a bit more concerned about its origins. Have you heard from the man recently?” When Caraway refused to reply, Gan continued. “Hm. Clay that burns to the touch but gives off no heat. Have you ever heard of such a thing before?”
Caraway growled as he flopped down in his chair and threw his feet onto the table, but refused to reply.
“It seems almost … supernatural , don’t you think?”
“Supernatural,” Caraway grumbled as he pulled out a flask and two glasses from his desk drawer. He poured whiskey into each glass and slid one over to Gan. “You’re not gonna start talking about ghosts and vampires, are ya? I carry a pistol, not a wooden stake. Leave that sorta crap for the Old Country.”
“Heh,” Gan laughed softly, taking a sip of his whiskey. “No, nothing like that, Herr Leutnant. It’s just that
“Rabbi Loew lived in Prague during the late sixteenth century, when the Holy Roman Empire was under the rule of Emperor Rudolf the Second. While obsessed with the occult—he spent his whole life searching for the Philosopher’s Stone—Rudolf the Second was an anti-Semite… not too unlike Germany’s current ruler.” The Rabbi said with venom before trailing off. He stared into the distance, lost in thought.
“Sir?” Dr. Pali said uncertainly.
“I am sorry, Doctor. I’m afraid I lost myself for a moment,” the Rabbi said with a smile. “Such is the price of age. As I was saying, Rudolf was an anti-Semite and, in the spring of 1580, decreed that all the Jews in Prague were to be either expelled or killed. To protect the Jewish citizenry, Rabbi Loew looked into to the Sefer Yetzirah and found the instructions to do just that.”
“And what was that?”
“Life, Dr. Pali,” the Rabbi said, holding up a hand as if he were clutching an invisible orb. “Rabbi Loew created life .”
Chapter 8
A HORROR IN CLAY
“How in high holy hell can he not recognize any of them!?” Caraway slammed his fist onto his desk. “Not a single one!!!”
“I do not know what to tell you, Herr Leutnant. He said none of the suspects looked anything like the perpetrator. Even if the killer was, as you said, in disguise, we have no way of proving it was any of the men we arrested.”
Caraway massaged his throbbing, wounded head, readjusting the bandages as he did. Most of the Special Crime Squad had already trickled out to their respective homes. The remaining officers were carting off their numerous suspects to jail, using outstanding warrants and any number of legal loopholes to keep the criminals behind bars in the interim, just in case. The squad’s headquarters were left in near darkness, the sole illumination coming from the shuttered window of Caraway’s private office.
“I just don’t get it. Everyone we brought in—in one way or more—matched your boy’s description of the killer. The height, the scarring—every single criminal more dangerous than the next.”
Gan nodded in affirmation and leaned back in his chair. He considered the mountain of files Caraway had his men draft up in a vain effort to find new suspects. “But what about the clay ?” Gan asked after a moment. “The substance your associate the Green Lama stole from the crime scene?”
Caraway stared down at the ground, unconsciously rubbing his scarred forefinger. “What about it?”
“Just thinking aloud, if that is the right phrase.” Gan shrugged. “If the substance seemed important enough for the vigilante to abscond with it, I would have imagined you would be a bit more concerned about its origins. Have you heard from the man recently?” When Caraway refused to reply, Gan continued. “Hm. Clay that burns to the touch but gives off no heat. Have you ever heard of such a thing before?”
Caraway growled as he flopped down in his chair and threw his feet onto the table, but refused to reply.
“It seems almost … supernatural , don’t you think?”
“Supernatural,” Caraway grumbled as he pulled out a flask and two glasses from his desk drawer. He poured whiskey into each glass and slid one over to Gan. “You’re not gonna start talking about ghosts and vampires, are ya? I carry a pistol, not a wooden stake. Leave that sorta crap for the Old Country.”
“Heh,” Gan laughed softly, taking a sip of his whiskey. “No, nothing like that, Herr Leutnant. It’s just that
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