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Author's Chapter Notes:
CAMP NEW HOPE,
MANISTIQUE COUNTY, MICH.
(JULY 1, 1921)
* * * * *

The three of us (Bob Gabriel, Sir Anthony, and myself) were each dragged by a pair of Buru-naga viragos into the office next door to Draconicov's cabin. We were followed by Zephilia Smith and Draconicov, himself. The three of us were then tied to an equal number of chairs on the latter's orders. Or, at least, I presume those were his orders.

The sibilant jargon he used was like no foreign language I had ever heard before. And, New York City is a veritable linguistic melting pot!

By the time they were done, I had just about gained my second wind. So, I used that opportunity (albeit, judiciously) to wheezingly ask my first question.

"I take it...this means...you're not...a Mennonite?"

He laughed: "An astute diagnosis, doctor! I am from the city of Oryol, on the banks of the Volga's Oka River tributary. And it was in that city that my people were truly born."

"Your people being...?"

"The Skoptsis! The story I told you and your comrades on the night of your arrival was just that. A story! The truth is, my people emigrated _to_ Drachehof, Austria, in the eighteenth century, to escape religious persecution."

"And, why...on Earth...were you being...persecuted?"

Sir Anthony now had enough breath to interrupt him.

"They mutilated...themselves...sexually! Breast...amputation...for the women. Self...castration...of the men!!"

I looked from him to Draconicov in shock. And, as if his fiendish grin was not confirmation enough, the latter added that the Skoptsis did not sterilize _all_ their adherents. A select few were allowed to remain fertile, in order to hand down the teachings of this "faith" from parent to child.

"It is how we first came to the attention of Meleusina. She had been driven out of 12th-century France by the Knights Templars. Eventually fleeing to Austria, via Switzerland, where she literally went underground. Estivating until the sounds of first construction reawoke her!* Upon learning of our plight, she took pity on us. Vowing to protect us from all further persecution, if we would but worship her, and her forebears, instead."

"Her forebears being one of the Melissae, I presume?" I stated more than asked.

Draconicov smiled and nodded, again.

"She is the biological great-granddaughter of Lamia, herself! And, under her guidance, we have not only expanded to the New World. We have also infiltrated all the necessary social strata. Government; law enforcement; high finance. We even have members amongst the ranks of the Knights of Melion! Sheriff Andrew Nellis, for instance? Not to mention, Austin Galstaff of the Milwaukee Lodge!!"

I could only shook my head, incredulously. Which permitted Sir Anthony to ask some more questions of his own.

"What about the children, here? Where do they fit into your expansionist plans?"

"Half of the orphans you so coveniently brought to us have gone home to Mother Russia, to replenish the ranks of our adherents, there. Though, of course, they and their adoptive parents will be posing as a bee-keeping sect of Priestless Old Believers!

"And, what happens if they don't go along with that pretense?" I demanded: "Do they become Buru-naga bait like Tomas Schmidt and Anna Stepwicz?"

"Miss Stepwicz is still alive," said a new voice.

I looked towards the front door of the office. As did Sir Anthony and Bob Gabriel (whose teeth were still too chattery from the cold to speak). Standing there, wearing a white bathrobe supplied by Zephilia Smith, was Meleusina, herself.

Evidently, she had transformed back to the semblance of a normal-sized woman. In any event, she continued the boasting begun by Boris Draconicov.

"As sole surviving member of the Russian royal family, she will make an invaluable figurehead for rallying the anti-Communists among the Russian population. That is why I did not kill her, even when she attacked me with that Swiss army knife, after recognizing me as what she called a 'vlodnik.' You three, however, serve no useful purpose to me. You, especially, Sir Anthony! You are the one I hold chiefly responsible for the death of my favorite acolyte; Pamela Plaisantine! Thus,.."

The rest of her threat was cut off by the sound of breaking glass. Followed by the gurgling and gasping of Boris Draconicov, after an arrow had lodged itself in his throat!

Two seconds later, another arrow had lodged itself in the small of Zephilia Smith's back as she knelt over Draconicov's body in more than Platonic concern.

Meleusina hissed in anger, and ran back outside. Her bathrope discarded as she transformed herself into the semblance of a Buru-naga. Albeit, twice the size of those that suddenly ran up to attend her!

But, the death of Camp New Hope's male and female co-directors had evidently been an elaborate ruse. For, while Meleusina had been outside, someone came inside through the window partially broken by the two arrows!

It was Father Theo Wisemann, once more in his werewolf state. And using both the confusion and his claws to free the three of us. "You three head for the girls' camp. That's where you'll find the Grand Duchess Anastasia! I'll distract Meleusina and her lizard-women by letting myself be chased through the woods. Along with Tobias Blair."

No sooner had he said this than Meleusina literally raised the roof. Sibilantly shouting in triumph...only to get a mouthful of holy water (flung from a glass canteen hanging around Wisemann's furry neck) for her trouble!

The encore of the pain-filled scream she had given out earlier gave us the opportunity to heed Wisemann's advice.

tbc
Chapter End Notes:
*Estivation: poikilothermic version of hibernation.

Vlodnik: carnivorous mer-person of Slavic mythology.

Priestless Old Believers: one of many off-shoots of the post-17th-century Russian Orthodox Church.
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