Lizard Men of Los Angeles | Page 9

tunnel led from the far end of the chamber. Cairo glided
silently toward the opening and looked into the darkness. "I don't
think--"
This time the noise was clearly audible, a sort of wet thump. It was
quickly followed by another. Cairo backed into the center of the room
and held the lamp high. Mrs. Lockhart moved behind him, crouching
slightly, her arms raised in the posture of an oriental science of
self-defense.
A panel of hieroglyphs suddenly slid open to reveal a small

passageway, followed almost instantly by a second panel and then a
third. A fourth opened in the opposite wall, then two more. For a
moment silence fell on the underground chamber, an absence more
terrifying than the sounds that had preceded it.
And then the openings poured forth lizard men.
There were at least a hundred of them, all about four feet in height,
their skins gray-green in the eerie luminescence. Their loins were
wrapped in some sort of bindings that left room for the massive tails
that dragged the ground behind them. They had almost no necks, and
their lipless mouths extended more than an inch beyond where their
noses should have been. Their bulbous eyes stared unblinkingly as they
shambled forward on massive lower legs that bent nearly double. Had
they straightened those legs they would have been the height of a man.
They formed a great circle around Cairo and Mrs. Lockhart. The odor
of methane in the air was almost unbearable. Cairo shifted the lamp to
his left hand and gestured with his right. "We are looking for a human
woman, Veronica Fleming. We have no desire to harm you."
"Speak for yourself, Cairo," Mrs. Lockhart said. "In any case, I don't
believe they're listening."
The lizard men had begun to move forward. "I will protect myself,"
Cairo warned them, waving the lamp in an arc in front of him. "Have a
care."
The lizard men charged.
Cairo swung the lamp once, grazing one of them and tracing a line of
dark green across its chest. He had no further opportunity. In the next
moment the weight of the creatures bore him and Mrs. Lockhart to the
floor of the cave and consciousness fled from them both.
*
Cairo recovered to find himself leaning back against one face of a steep,

ten-foot tall pyramid, his wrists and ankles secured by golden chains.
He winced in pain as soon as he opened his eyes and it took him a
moment to try again.
"Are you all right, Cairo?" Mrs. Lockhart asked. She was chained to a
second pyramid a few yards away.
"Somewhat the worse for beating," he said, "but I hope to survive." He
blinked, raised his head, and gasped in astonishment as he looked
around.
They'd been brought to a huge underground chamber, larger than any
cathedral in Europe. A massive green globe seemed to hang well below
the vaulted ceiling, where it blazed with a light to rival the noonday sun.
Pyramids, altars, and figurines rose from the smooth stone floor at
irregular intervals. Surrounding them swarmed hundreds, perhaps
thousands, of the lizard creatures. Many of them carried spears that
appeared to be tipped with gold. And on a dais in front of Cairo and
Mrs. Lockhart stood a woman in long, flowing white robes and a
golden mask.
Cairo smiled. "Veronica Fleming, I presume?"
The woman moved to the edge of the dais. She was but a few paces
away from Cairo, had he been able to move, her waist on a level with
his eyes. "No," she said, and removed the mask. "I was never Veronica
Fleming."
Rosenberg's daughter stood revealed before them, her haunted eyes and
shining red hair appearing almost black in the mysterious light.
"Veronica Fleming was a creation of my father's, the invention of a
status-seeking, fame-obsessed immigrant ashamed of his own heritage.
It was Veronica Fleming who was sold into the child slavery of the
studio system, Veronica Fleming who was given drugs and liquor
before she even became physically a woman, Veronica Fleming who
was used by producers and directors and has-been actors. Not me.
Never me."

She spread her arms wide above her head, fingers extended. "I am Vera
Rosenberg, and I have found my true destiny...as a Queen." Her
subjects answered her with percussive sounds from their throats, horrid
gulping barks that resounded the length and breadth of the chamber and
built to a deafening crescendo.
"What do you mean to do with us?" Cairo demanded, his voice raised
to be heard above the hideous cacophony.
"You will be sacrificed, of course," Vera said. "In due time."
"Three days ago," Mrs. Lockhart said, "you stood in the same relation
to Aleister Crowley, the Great Beast 666, that Veronica Fleming stood
to her Hollywood