The Snake Temple: A Patricia Vanhelsing Thriller - Alfred Bekker - ebook

The Snake Temple: A Patricia Vanhelsing Thriller ebook

Alfred Bekker



The paranormally gifted Patricia Vanhelsing tracing a great mystery... In the middle of the jungle there is a mysterious building called the HOUSE OF THE GODS. Did her great uncle, a famous explorer, once disappear there? Alfred Bekker writes fantasy, science fiction, thrillers, historical novels and books for children and teenagers. His books about THE REICH OF THE ELVES, the DRACHENERDE-SAGA, the GORIAN trilogy and his novels about the HALFLINGS OF ATHRANOR made him known to a large audience. He was co-author of such exciting series as Jerry Cotton, Commissioner X and Ren Dhark.

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The Snake Temple (Patricia Vanhelsing)


A CassiopeiaPress book: CASSIOPEIAPRESS, UKSAK E-Books, Alfred Bekker, Alfred Bekker presents, Casssiopeia-XXX-press, Alfredbooks, Uksak Special Edition, Cassiopeiapress Extra Edition, Cassiopeiapress/AlfredBooks and BEKKERpublishing are imprints by
Alfred Bekker
© Roman by Author /COVER STEVE MAYER
© of this issue 2019 by AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich/Westphalia in arrangement with Edition Bärenklau, edited by Jörg Martin Munsonius.
The imaginary persons have nothing to do with actually living persons. Identical names are coincidental and not intended.
All rights reserved.

The Snake Temple (Patricia Vanhelsing)

​Alfred Bekker

The paranormally gifted Patricia Vanhelsing tracing a great mystery...
In the middle of the jungle there is a mysterious building called the HOUSE OF THE GODS. Did her great uncle, a famous explorer, once disappear there?
Alfred Bekker writes fantasy, science fiction, thrillers, historical novels and books for children and teenagers. His books about THE REICH OF THE ELVES, the DRACHENERDE-SAGA, the GORIAN trilogy and his novels about the HALFLINGS OF ATHRANOR made him known to a large audience. He was co-author of such exciting series as Jerry Cotton, Commissioner X and Ren Dhark.
The Snake Temple
The jungle steamed humid and hot while the stars sparkled in the sky. The thin dress I was wearing was stuck to my body and the heavy air of this proliferating hell of plants, pervaded by all kinds of scents, numbed my senses.
I felt my heart racing as I saw the gloomy shadow of the ruin appear before me in the jungle. The pale moonlight fell on gigantic, cuboid blocks, partly covered by the proliferating vegetation of the jungle. The fear held my soul clasped like in a vice. My breath faltered. Carefully I went on and noticed how my knees trembled. Finally I reached the uncanny ruin. The cyclope-like building looked massive, the stone was smooth and seemed undamaged. The aura of unimaginable age hung densely over this place. And then I heard a voice whispering. It was a name.
A name that made my blood freeze in my veins...
I had never heard it and I had no idea what it meant. I just felt an icy shiver running down my back.
A hissing noise penetrated my ear. I drove around and for a fraction of a second I saw a shadowy something rising against the pale moonlight.
But already one look later the shadow had disappeared behind one of the gigantic cuboid blocks. I felt my pulse beat up to my neck and pressed my back against the smooth stone wall. I wasn't alone here, so much was certain. Carefully I felt myself along the wall. A dark passage opened before me and I hoped that the darkness had swallowed me ... I heard footsteps. Then again this hissing that reminded me of something. For a few terribly long seconds I racked my brain over it, then it occurred to me. It was the sound of a snake...
I held my breath.
The steps approached. They were slow and dragging, as if the mysterious figure was looking for something... Me!
I swallowed. The shadow seemed to have noticed me.
I saw a shadowy outline emerge and get bigger. The hissing became louder. Then the figure stepped into the moonlight. The first thing I saw was a pair of reptilian facetted eyes that looked as cold as death.
Then the figure was dark again and I saw nothing but a nameless black shadow approaching me. As if rooted, I stood there. Despite the heat, goose bumps had covered my body.
Rama'ymuh... I don't know where the dark voice came from that whispered this ghostly name. Maybe it came out of my head... Rama'ymuh!
I felt the terrible closeness of this creature. Cold hands reached for me with an inhuman strength that I could not resist at all and I felt the breath of death. A woman's shrill death cry cut the thick air of the jungle like a knife and it took me a moment to realize that it was me who was screaming...
I sat straight as a die in my bed. Cold sweat stood on my forehead and I breathed deeply. It took quite a while until I understood where I was. I looked around. This was my room in Aunt Elizabeth's villa. I was at home and the terrible pictures that had just stood before my eyes had been nothing but a dream... A name went whispering over my lips.
"Rama'ymuh..." I was surprised at myself and for a fraction of a moment a hunch of the horror I had just felt returned. The door of my room opened and my great-aunt Elizabeth Vanhelsing stepped into the room.
"Patricia," she said, "You screamed! What's the matter?
I stroked my hair out of my eyes and breathed deeply.
"I don't know", I mumbled, almost like in a trance.
Aunt Elizabeth sat down with me on the bed and looked at me seriously. "A dream?" she asked.
I nodded. "Yes, a dream." Elizabeth gave me a thoughtful look and I knew immediately what was going on inside her. I knew my great-aunt, whom I had grown up with after the death of my parents, too well for that.
"Do you want to tell me the dream?" she asked hesitantly.
"Doesn't that have until tomorrow morning?" I asked back, because I had little sense for bringing the terrible scene back to me again.
"Tomorrow morning you may have forgotten your dream," she said, and of course she was right.
"You think, it was one of those special dreams, wasn't it, Aunt Elizabeth?"
She nodded. "It could be, couldn't it?"
I looked at her. My aunt Elizabeth had a special interest in everything supernatural. Her villa was a kind of private museum on occultism, parapsychology and archaeology. The house was full of artefacts from obscure cults, archaeological excavations and contained an archive on this subject that was certainly unparalleled far and wide. Frederik Vanhelsing, Elizabeth's lost and presumably deceased husband, had been a well known archaeologist and Elizabeth's interest in these things certainly came from this. Anyway, she believed that I had light clairvoyant abilities, which were expressed mainly in dreams and daydreams. Since I had foreseen a house fire in my dreams as a child, she had not been able to dissuade me from this idea - and in the meantime she had brought me so far that I at least admitted the possibility that maybe she was right.
"You promised me to take your dreams seriously, my child," said Elizabeth very seriously.
"Rama'ymuh," I murmured to myself.
"What?" Aunt Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. Her hands had embraced my shoulders and she looked at me with an almost evocative look.
"What are you talking about?"
"Let me sleep, Aunt Elizabeth!"
"No, tell me the dream first! It must have meant something! I feel it!"
I sighed and rubbed my temples. A leaden feeling of tiredness had suddenly laid itself over me like a veil. I suppressed a yawn and then summarized the dream to Aunt Elizabeth in brief words. "Rama'ymuh, that was the name I had on my lips," I finally ended. "Do you know what that word means, Aunt Elizabeth?"
Elizabeth made a thoughtful face and then shook her head vigorously. "No," she whispered, "I have no idea what that word means..."
I slept the rest of the night dreamless and like a stone. In the morning everything seemed so unreal to me and the memory of the nightmare had faded. I was late and still quite tired. Even Aunt Elizabeth's strong coffee didn't seem to be able to make me feel as cheerful today. When I boarded my red, somewhat old-fashioned Mercedes a little later, I knew that I wouldn't reach the London Express News building in time.
I was a reporter for this tabloid and had just managed to convince my boss Michael T. Swann that I could do more than he originally thought I could do. But what Swann couldn't stand to die was unpunctuality. I was already preparing myself for the expected thunderstorm. And then there was this dream of the past night and a mysterious name, which I simply did not want out of mind against. Rama'ymuh... maybe Aunt Elizabeth was right and it was indeed one of those special dreams that told me something about the future. I was shivering at the thought alone and hoped for nothing so much at that moment as my great-aunt was wrong this time.
She always spoke of a gift. But I am not sure if this is really the right word for it. Curse - that could just as well be said of it.
I had some trouble finding a gap for my Mercedes in the parking lot belonging to the publishing house. When I entered the open-plan office where the News editorial team worked and where my desk was also located, Jim Field, the photographer, met me.
He was wearing tattered jeans and the two cameras hanging around his neck were completely disfiguring the worn jacket. The fact that the collar could probably no longer be saved hardly seemed to bother him. He shook the blond out of his face and smiled at me.
"He shouted, "Hello, Patti!
"Hello, Jim!
"Swann has you wanted everywhere. I said you were in the archives for a search."
"You're a treasure!"
Jim grinned. "You like to hear something like that. But now we shouldn't lose any time. Mr Swann is expecting us in his office."
I breathed deeply. "Do you have any idea what this is about?" Jim grinned from ear to ear and that meant he knew exactly what was going on.
"Let him surprise you," he said, mischievously flashing his blue eyes.
"Not a little tip? I hope Mister Swann doesn't want to impose something as exciting as a bribe scandal on the pigeon fanciers...".
"A little tip, huh?"
"All right, because you are. Did you already know that I have clairvoyant abilities?
I had to smile involuntarily. "You too?" I replied and he seemed to think that was a joke.
Jim Field came a little closer and whispered in my ear: "I predict you're going to make a long journey..."
"Where to?
"Into the jungle..." Jim looked me in the face and suddenly the serenity disappeared from his features. "Hey, Patti! What's going on? You've turned all pale!"
"Is the name Allan Porter familiar to you, Patricia?" asked Michael T. Swann, without looking up from his records. His desk was covered over and over with manuscripts and a large pile of files threatened to tip over at any moment. Of course, Professor Dr. Allan Porter was familiar to me. He had written the greatest popular science bestsellers of recent years and was mentioned in the same breath as Erich von Däniken. Jim Field spoke before I could say anything.
"Isn't that the archaeologist who claims that there was another intelligent race on earth before man?"
Swann nodded.
"Very true. A race of intelligent reptiles. According to Professor Porter, the remains of their civilization have been present up to historical times... Anyway, Porter now believes to have found the final proof for his theories in the Brazilian jungle..."
"A final proof", I asked hesitantly and with clear scepticism in the tone of voice.
The name Allan Porter was well enough known to me to know that his theories were totally rejected by the rest of the archaeological community. The fact that Porter was able to market his theories very skilfully in books and film documentaries and was therefore regarded as untrustworthy had certainly contributed in part to this.
Michael Swann looked at me and then nodded after briefly rubbing his nose root. "Yes, a mysterious and probably ancient building has been found in the Brazilian rainforest that Porter associates with his theories..."
" well as a few dozen other archaeological sites all over the world," Jim added not without sarcasm.
"But this time there really seems to be something to it. Even if one day Porter's theories prove to be wrong, this jungle building is a sensation. In short, you, Patti and Jim, should accompany Porter on his next expedition to Brazil..."
For a moment I had to think of the dream. The steaming jungle and the building I had seen, made of large blocks... And the cold facet eyes in which death had lurked... I swallowed. You were right, Aunt Elizabeth, I had to admit. It had been one of those special dreams in which my clairvoyant abilities showed themselves. There could no longer be any doubt for me in this question.
"What is it, Patti?" asked Michael T. Swann with a slightly worried undertone in his voice. "I thought you liked this theme! After all, you have an interest in such - how can I say? - mysterious things."
"Yes, you're right."
"Okay. Then bring me a good report."
I looked up. "When does it start?"
"You fly tomorrow to Rio de Janeiro. There you will meet Porter, who will take you to the Amazon region, where he has chartered a riverboat. You both get the rest of the day off so that you can prepare yourself for the trip". Jim and I changed a pretty surprised look. None of us needed to say a word to read each other's minds at that moment and that really had nothing to do with psychic powers. Look, it went through my head. Even Michael T. Swann could be generous now and then. Who would have thought that...
"To Brazil?" Elizabeth asked me when I got home. "And so suddenly?
"Yes', I nodded.
"You should think about your dream, child."
"Aunt Elizabeth!"
She looked at me very seriously. "Yes, I really mean that! Can't they from the News send a colleague to Brazil? I would be more comfortable..."
"Aunt Elizabeth! So far dreams have always helped me to escape the dangers. Why should I be afraid? Do you remember when I went to the South of France to investigate this ominous Templar cult? There too I had a nightmare before, which even came true, but..."