Bodie had no idea what to expect on entering Hades.
This was everything they’d been fighting to avoid. From the commencement of their long mission, all the way back in Mexico, this was the worst culmination they’d envisioned: chasing the Illuminati to the last prize, way behind, with no idea what lay ahead and no clue if their friends were still alive.
“Don’t forget,” Bodie said, “there are madmen in here.”
They walked into the mountain, passing through the cave entrance. The path continued ahead, hugging the side of a cliff face, maybe three feet wide. To its right lay a cavernous space, a vast pit of blackness. Bodie broke out his flashlight and ventured onto the path as Pang and his soldiers ranged ahead.
Cold air wafted up from the unknown depths, saturating the air. Bodie stayed steady on the narrow path, looking neither right nor left. It stretched ahead into utter darkness, clinging to the mountain, leading them toward a deplorable mystery. The beams from their flashlights swayed between the path and the ragged edge. Bodie heard no other sounds echoing in the dark.
They walked cautiously for long minutes. Bodie turned once to see Jemma and Butcher close behind, Yasmine and Cassidy following them and backed by soldiers. Ahead, Pang led the way into Hades.
The path ended at a narrow cavern. They were forced to jump, in turn, across a foot-wide sliver of blackness, landing on a rock platform the size of a football pitch. Bodie paused there for a moment as his ears caught an odd sound.
“What the hell is that?” a soldier asked.
It swelled on cold currents of air, resounding around black caverns: the chanting of a hundred voices, maybe more. The dark ritual of obsession, madness and murder.
“We are dealing with some seriously deranged puppies,” Cassidy said. “Exercise extreme caution and take no prisoners. They don’t see us as fully human, as worthy of breath. Do not let them fool you.”
Pang started up a natural rock staircase a hundred feet wide. Bodie hurried so that he might gain the top at the same time as the others. To left and right, the entire team progressed up fourteen steps until they came up onto a wide rectangular slab of stone, an oblong dais.
They stared down into a cavern of nightmares.
It was the worst scene from Hell that Bodie could imagine. No, more than that, it was far worse. Nothing in his life could have prepared him for this and nothing would ever let him forget it.
A vast cave lay thirty feet below, lit by an abundance of flickering torches, so many that a cloud of black soot funneled toward a hole in the roof. Guttering gold and crimson light sparkled and glimmered off every surface, illuminating every atrocity with glistening fire.
A high platform stood at the left side, reached by a set of stone stairs carved from the very rock. Bodie saw dozens of figures standing on the steps, gazing up at those at the very top. All wore cloaks and goat masks, and those on high were adorned with jewelry that gleamed and flashed in the golden glow of the torches.
In their hands, still dripping, were severed heads.
Bodie’s blood turned to ice as he viewed the rest of the cavern. It had clearly been constructed long ago as the site of a great black mass, a sprawling ceremony in the name of the Great Dragon. Stone crosses made from boulders covered the cavern floor, too many to count. Small fires raged before them.
Upon the crosses Bodie realized, were bound countless people. So many that he froze, unable to take it all in. Hundreds, he thought, arranged across the rolling cavern below, among rocks, fissures, slopes and dips, even clinging to the side walls. All were naked, all were tied with their hands and legs stretched, all were struggling but unable to extricate themselves from a horrible fate.
Before them, arranged around the fires and beside the stone crosses, stood innumerable cloaked figures. They held polished daggers dripping blood, carried whips that glistened red, or clutched spears covered in gore. They laughed, they shrieked, and they capered as they extracted every ounce of suffering from their terrified victims. The sound of their madness traveled on the wings of the dense smoke writhing up to the ceiling.
Bodie searched frantically for both Lucie and Heidi but, in the madness, in the dark, flickering crush of Illuminati and victims, he failed to spot either of his friends.
“Who the fuck are these people?” a soldier asked in astonishment.
“The master race,” Cassidy said. “Apparently.”
“See any guards?” Pang was searching too.
“A few, all Hoods,” Bodie said. “I guess they’re pinning everything on that weapon.”
Another momentous vision compromised his sense of reality. It was wondrous, striking, and horrifying all at the same time.
“What is that?” Yasmine asked.
“A chunk of gold,” Pang said. “How can that possible be the weapon?”
Bodie didn’t answer; he was too busy trying to take in the spectacle. Above the stone steps, above the high platform where the horned goats that were most likely Bacchus and his High Minervals stood, there hung a tremendous slab of pure gold. It was high and wide, many hundreds of feet in size. It glowed and reflected fire with a deep ardor, set ablaze by the glowing torchlight. It was a solid gold bonfire of riches that loomed overall.
A hellish inferno, Bodie thought.
“How is that a weapon?” Pang muttered.
“Can we deal with that later?” Cassidy said. “There’re a shitload of fuckers who need killing down there.”
Soldiers were fanned out around them to all sides. Bodie heard the brief sound of gunfire behind as more soldiers picked off enemy stragglers and survivors. He focused on the floor thirty feet below.
“Lucie, Heidi,” he said, “and then those bastards.” He nodded at Bacchus.
Pang nodded and they charged down the steps into the infernal cavern.
Heat rose to blast them in the face. The stench of soot and blood assaulted their nostrils. A man screamed as someone set him on fire. Daggers slashed flesh and caused eruptions of blood to spatter the floor. Bodie sighted on enemies and fired one shot at a time, felling those closest to their victims and moving on.
It was a hellish furore, a red-smeared vision of evil. Figures whirled at the sound of gunshots, their faces twisted with the glory of worship, and flung themselves at the attackers. Bodie witnessed eyes blank with terrible devotion, heard voices shrieking with hatred. This was a murderous kind of chaos the like of which he’d never seen.
He forged a path through. He saved every tied figure he came to, but left them in place, knowing speed was of the essence if they wanted to save as many sufferers as they could.
His team backed him, moving left and right and, sometimes, barging their way past knots of the enemy. The soldiers found that they couldn’t move in proper formation among the masses—it was more a tactic of kill anything that wore a cloak and brandished a weapon.
Incredibly, the chanting grew stronger, voices raised to the Great Dragon. Bodie was stunned. Did they really expect their foul master to rise up and help them?
Of course they did.
Bodie emptied his first mag and jammed in the second. A knife flashed past his temple, drawing blood. Red droplets flew from the blade into his eyes. He elbowed his attacker then shot him in the chest.
Another man flew at him from the left. Bodie shot him through the crook of his own elbow but couldn’t prevent the perforated body from crashing into him, knocking him to the floor.
Bodie rolled and jumped up, just in time to feel the tip of a blade stab his shoulder. He grunted and pulled away. Another figure slashed at his throat. Bodie jumped onto a nearby rock to escape the melee. Once there he saw Jemma and Butcher being beset from all angles. Taking aim, Bodie thinned the herd around them, one headshot at a time.
All around him, the soldiers were embattled.
Bodie frantically searched each cross. To his right a blond woman struggled against her bonds. Beside her, a black-haired man tried to kick out as two cloaked figures stabbed him in
the thighs. The bonds held him back but his struggles slowed them down. Bodie shot both of them.
To his left, a row of naked victims hung, heads down, bleeding from their stomachs. It was a sight that filled Bodie with dread, with horror and pity.
Cloaked figures lay dead all around him, shot by the military.
More crosses passed his field of vision, some higher and some lower than others. Rocky hills and valleys filled the cavern. The torches waved wildly, casting nightmare shadows onto the walls and floors. More chants were screamed at the top of raucous lungs.
Bodie fired shot after shot, his eyes roving. He leapt down from the rock, felt a sharp twinge in his knee, but ignored it and called Jemma and Butcher. They pushed deeper into the cavern, passing the halfway point.
Soldiers ranged ahead as knives flashed and spears were turned against them.
Bodie caught the hack of a blade on his gun. The weapon fell to the floor. He grabbed the wrist of his cloaked attacker and held it high before stepping in and punching the figure three times in the guts. When the figure wavered, he threw it to the floor, scooped up his gun and shot it.
He moved on.
A Hood came at him next, this fighter far more experienced. Bodie staggered against a jagged rock, grateful that it had stopped his fall, and brought his gun up. The Hood smashed his hand aside and leapt in with a knife. Bodie was glad to see the blade slam against the rock just inches from his left eye. He clouted the Hood across the face with a closed fist and watched him stagger away, off balance.
The Hood was swept away in another skirmish. Bodie took a breath and checked himself for injuries. Looking up, he spotted a new horror. Arranged in rows at the back of the cavern were dozens of gallows. People were hanging and being hanged at every single one. Cloaked Illuminati were gathered there, hands in the air, faces upturned as necks broke and feet kicked all around them.
Bodie yelled and set off at speed. He rammed a fresh mag into his gun. He passed one solider on his knees and shot the Hood trying to kill him. He passed Pang, who was also changing mags, but who took a moment to point to the back of the cave.
Bodie froze. Heidi and Lucie were hanging before him.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Both women had been tied to stone crosses. Bodie was fifteen feet away but could see the anguish in Heidi’s eyes, the terror stretching Lucie’s face.
Two men stood before them, poking a spear at each of their ribcages.
They were screaming, their naked bodies slick with blood, their muscles clenched in a rictus of pain.
Cloaked figures knelt between their legs, drinking in the agony flowing from their eyes. The worshippers bowed and chanted, alternately scraping the floor with their heads and then raising them toward the ceiling.
Bodie’s legs went to jelly. The spears were forced in once more, another inch. Heidi screamed. Lucie pleaded for help. Their suffering fueled the insane thoughts of those kneeling before their crosses.
Bodie’s brain clouded with red heat. He screamed and fell among them. He kicked and punched and fired shot after shot.
The men holding the spears fell dead first, leaving their weapons in place and collapsing to the ground. Others tried to take their place, but Bodie shot them as well.
Cassidy joined him and then Yasmine. Together, they killed the blood-crazed worshippers surrounding their friends.
Bodie stood panting, gun in hand, blood dripping to the floor. He had no idea if it was his or had belonged to someone he’d killed. He stepped to Heidi and cupped her face. “Are you okay? Are you badly hurt?”
“My back,” she muttered. “They whipped us first. All of us, in rows, as we walked. Men, women...” She swallowed heavily. “Kill them all, Bodie. There’s no place for them in our world.”
Bodie nodded. He intended to. First, he released Heidi’s bonds and then stepped across to Lucie. The stench of blood and death, smoke and chaos hung heavy in the air all around them.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
“I’ll survive,” she said, boosting Bodie’s soul.
He helped her down, and winced at the sight of both her and Heidi’s backs, the bloody tramlines and welts. He helped clothe them in the unneeded cloaks of the dead because that was all that was available. He took hold of Jemma’s and Butcher’s shoulders and held their eyes.
“You two,” he said, “guard them. That is your only job. Stay here and look out for them. We’ll finish this.”
They nodded gravely. Bodie saw that Pang and a dozen other soldiers were busy helping those still attached to the gallows. When he walked forward, his right boot skidded. The floor was slick with blood.
“There.” He pointed. “The source of all this evil is right there.”
Atop the high platform, above steps where cloaked figures and Hoods knelt in black worship, Bacchus and his three Minervals, all wearing goat masks, chanted, gestured and held sway. The ceremony hadn’t stopped, in fact it had increased in fervor. Blood, sweat and smoke surrounded them. All four of the Illuminati leaders held people by the necks, people who’d been forced to their knees and allowed to bleed out.
Rearing above them and everything else was the huge, solid slab of gold.
Bodie called as many soldiers together as he could as he started toward them. They gathered and they charged, storming the stone steps. Bacchus, above, watched them, his heavy goat’s head swiveling to take in the assault.
Bodie gave them no mercy. He shot them, leaping over tumbling bodies as he forged up the stairs. Bacchus bellowed at the top of his lungs, calling on whatever master he served. There was stentorian belief in that voice, a firm conviction that he would get everything he wanted.
Bodie grabbed a man and threw him down the steps. He ducked the blow of another and heaved him off the edge. He shot two in the stomach as they whirled at him, knives flashing.
A spear scythed the air between him and Cassidy, whistling past on its way to the ground. Bodie slowed and looked up.
The steps were a mad mass of battle. The worshippers were clearly trying to slow the attackers, their faith taking over as Bacchus yelled at them to fight.
Adelaide, Discord and Cronos came to the edge of the platform, waiting to join the fray.
Bodie ran to meet them.
Adelaide ripped off her mask and hurled it at him. She drew two wicked blades from sheaths at her side.
He ducked the mask and fired his gun. The hammer clicked on empty. For fuck’s—
Adelaide sliced at him, cleaving the air in front of his face.
Bodie ducked and ran at her, catching her under the chest and heaving up, lifting her off her feet. She crashed down on her spine, snarling, giving Bodie enough time to swap mags.
“Not worth wasting my time on,” he said.
Discord smashed into him, throwing off his aim. His bullets struck Cronos in the shoulder, so not a total loss. Bodie threw Discord to the side, and had his first real view of Bacchus.
“What does your secret weapon do?” Yasmine, at his side, yelled. It was a fair query and a good time to ask it. Because, if Bacchus refused to answer, they were still fighting blind.
The horned mask turned toward her. Something bellowed from its throat, some vile and ancient ritual handed down through the ages.
The fires raged behind them; people still cried out and died on their crosses as the soldiers sought to save them.
“You cannot see?” Bacchus cried out. “Then you are blind.”
“I see, oh I see,” a small voice came from behind Bodie. He turned, surprised to see Lucie and Heidi, supported by Jemma and Butcher, half-standing and wrapped in their cloaks.
“What...” Bodie began.
“No!” Bacchus lurched toward them. He carried no weapon but seemed to believe lightning flashed from his hands. He gestured toward them, screamed that they should die and then stepped back.
Bodie blinked. Adelaide was back on her feet. The din of the battle thickened the air around them. Gunfire rang from
wall to wall. Discord joined Adelaide.
The Illuminati leadership stood together, united.
“The Great Dragon is here,” they chanted.
And then they attacked.
Bodie faced Adelaide, who sneered. Cassidy faced off with Discord. Yasmine took on Cronos. Jemma, Heidi and Butcher were left with the Grand Master. They came together in a great clash of fists, bones and flesh as the vast golden slab towered over them.
Bodie forced Adelaide backward, mindful of her dirty fighting style. The redhead didn’t speak but drew a curved dagger from under a tight black robe and sliced the air in front of his face. When Bodie attacked, she thrust the blade at his chest, making him think twice.
Together, the relic hunters forced the Illuminati leaders toward the northern edge of the high platform. It was a psychological ploy; they knew only that there should be a significant drop at that side.
Bacchus, still wearing the horn mask, swung a sword over and over, making it impossible for Jemma to attack with any safety. The great goat head tipped sideways at one point and let out a great bellow, a call to arms aimed at the surviving Hoods.
Smoke, heat and the stench of burning flesh filled the air. Gunfire resounded from wall to wall. The screams of the dying filled this cavern of Hell, beating at the air, assailing their senses until they could hear nothing else.
Jemma aimed her gun at Bacchus, done with the charade. “Worship this,” she said and fired.
A great keening wail went up from the throats of dozens of Illuminati fighters. They were aware of what was happening high up on the platform. They were beset, unable to help their masters directly, but they could see. At first, Bodie thought the acute cry had risen from the unknown spaces behind the leaders. But then the same noise came from Adelaide’s throat.
“Noooooooooooo...”
Jemma gaped. Incredibly, her bullet had struck Bacchus’ sword, saving his life. The big, horned leader fell to his knees at the edge of the platform. Bodie, to his right, got a glimpse of what lay beyond the rough brink.
Nothing. It was a black, bottomless pit. This cavern was indeed an incarnation of Hades.
The Illuminati Endgame (The Relic Hunters 7) Page 19