by Nick Stead
Moments later, the pirate stepped up beside me with his sword drawn, ready for another fight. He also had Gwyn’s clothes in his offhand so the knocker could dress when the light forced him back into physical form. I nodded to him and we made our way along the tunnel, pausing briefly when we reached the electric flames. Zee dropped the knocker’s clothes and we took a couple of steps forward, our backs to the spirit as he sacrificed his freedom for his human form yet again.
“C’mere, pants,” came the Welsh man’s voice from behind us.
Something about the way he said it made me laugh, though the word ‘pants’ seemed out of place and I couldn’t help but respond “Pants; are you American now?”
“Well it sounds better than c’mere trousers.”
“I suppose.”
Once Gwyn had also dressed, we carried on down the passage, wary of the impending trouble we felt we were walking into. But the tunnel didn’t seem to be any different to any of the others we’d been in, though just beyond the first set of lights this one bore the words Level Five. I assumed this was the final level in David’s game since Gwyn had said we weren’t far off the end, and five seemed like a good number. That alone heightened my sense of impending doom. Yet we were able to tread without setting off any traps or without the sudden appearance of more enemies to fight through, despite my fears. My thoughts turned to the creature whose presence dominated the entire dungeon and who was surely the last enemy David would pit us against in the final chamber. The being who we’d briefly encountered and could sense so strongly, and yet still knew so little about.
“If you’ve really been down here the entire time the Slayers have been working on turning it into this dungeon, you must have seen the creature they’ve imprisoned with us for the final fight,” I said to Gwyn. “All we know so far is it’s big and it seems to inspire terror in everything around it. Can you tell us anything that might help when we have to face this thing?”
“I have. It’s a demon.”
I’d already suspected it could be demonic if not some new kind of undead from the moment I’d first sensed that dread presence, but I still felt a fresh stab of fear with the knocker’s confirmation of the thing’s Hellish origins. Lady Sarah hadn’t really told me anything about demons but as creatures from another realm, they were bound to be powerful. Even without the terror this one inspired in us, I wondered if we even had a slither of hope of beating it or whether it would be truly unstoppable. Then again, if the Slayers had once hunted demons that suggested they had to be vulnerable to something earthly for the humans to wield against them. It was just a question of whether we had the means to slay one or not.
“You must be mistaken,” Zee answered him. “The demons were driven back to Hell when the Slayers came to power, everyone knows that.”
“Not all of them. There’s still a few brave enough to venture up here. There’s even still a few cases of possession in the human world, not that you old vampires would know that, being the technophobes you are. The internet matey, I’m telling you it’s one of mankind’s greatest inventions. Gotta give ’em credit for that one.”
The vampire looked doubtful.
“Say it is a demon,” I replied. “I’m guessing there’s different types of them, just as there’s plenty of different kinds of us undead. Do you know what type of demon we’re going to be facing?”
“Do I look like a demon encyclopaedia to you? It was demonic, that’s all I know.”
“Great. Do any of us know anything about demons, like any general strengths or weaknesses?”
“Humans have plenty to say on that but I can’t say I’ve had many dealings with the denizens of Hell, so who knows what really works and what doesn’t?” Gwyn said.
“Nor have I,” Zee answered. “They were already all but gone from the Earth when I became a vampire.”
A glass window like the one looking into Lady Sarah’s chamber loomed ahead, distracting us from the conversation. We fell quiet and approached it with caution, the other two no doubt thinking the same as me – that it must be linked somehow to the trap we’d been anticipating. The last thing I’d expected was to find myself looking down at the passage Lady Sarah, Selina and Varin with Amy still on his back had ventured through. They had evidently been moving as slowly and cautiously as we had, for they were only just visible from the edge of the window, walking towards where we watched from above.
“Gwyn, any ideas why David would give us a window into the other passage?”
“Nope. Well, nothing concrete – like I said, the plans for this last part of the dungeon were kind of vague. But, much as I hate to say it, it can’t be for anything good.”
“You think they’re about to be attacked?”
“Could be.”
“Can we break through, so we can help them?”
“We can try but I doubt it’s going to be that easy, somehow. I wouldn’t transform yet though. You’re going to need all the energy you can spare if you want to make it out of here alive.”
“I know, but that’s my sister down there. If David is about to spring something on them, I have to do whatever it takes to save her.”
“And we will find a way, my friend. But Gwyn is right – if we try to break through as we are and the window holds, I doubt your added lupine strength will make any difference. The Slayers obviously put a lot of thought into this place; they probably found some way to reinforce any barriers they don’t want us to tear down through sheer brute strength.”
“Okay, okay. On three then?”
We threw ourselves at the window but as predicted, it held fast, even with Zee’s supernatural strength which was currently far greater than both me and Gwyn combined, weakened as I was and human as the Welsh spirit was trapped as for as long as we remained back in the light. After a couple more attempts with not so much as a hairline fracture forming in the glass, Zee tried using his telekinetic powers instead. That proved no more effective than his physical strength and we were forced to admit defeat.
The passage must have been sound proofed, our companions not once looking up as they walked by. It occurred to me that they might not even be able to see us – it could be the kind of one way glass used in police stations, or something similar. Either that or they just hadn’t noticed the window above them.
“I guess we have no choice but to carry on and hope we find some other way into that passage then,” I said, after a moment’s rest.
“Don’t worry, chummer,” Gwyn answered. “Both these passages should lead to the same chamber so we ought be able to get into the lower tunnel from there, if we don’t meet those four in the chamber itself.”
“We should pick up the pace. If they are about to be attacked, I’d rather be there to fight with them than stuck watching from up here.”
Gwyn nodded but Zee was quiet, his attention apparently elsewhere.
“Eyeing up the Wilton sisters there, captain?” the knocker asked, following the vampire’s gaze.
“My heart forever belongs to Lady Charlotte, but a man has needs. And it’s been a while. You can’t deny they’re both beauties.”
“I wouldn’t know. The last werewolf though – who’d have thought he’d be so damn cute?”
“You can still recognise beauty, even if you’re attracted to men,” Zee answered, irritation creeping into his voice.
“Okay, yes I can see they’d be pleasing on the eye if I was into women. But by that token, you should be able to appreciate the good looks of our young wolf.”
“I am still stood right here and able to hear you both, you know,” I growled. “Zee, I’m pretty sure those two are more trouble than they’re worth. And sorry to disappoint you Gwyn but I’m not into guys. I’m not sure I even feel any lust for women anymore, not in that way anyway. Plus I’m technically still physically underage, since I was a couple of months off my sixteenth birthday when I was turned.”
“In modern human society. Humans were just fine with marrying off their young daught
ers before they’d fully matured not so long ago. But we’re not human and you’re mature enough – you can’t blame a knocker for looking.”
“I’ll take the compliment, I guess. Now can we focus on getting down there and then finding a way out of this godforsaken place?”
“Sorry,” Zee apologised. “Let’s continue on, then.”
The two sisters and Varin carrying Amy had almost crossed the length of passage visible through the window, without any harm coming to them. I was about to turn away and just beginning to relax slightly when an orange glow suddenly appeared in their tunnel, just up ahead of them. Dread filled me as I realised what it was.
“No!” I yelled, unheard by the four below.
A jet of flame roared into life, lancing down the passage and heading right for our friends, and my sister. I tried screaming again, urging them to turn back and run for safety, but even bellowing at the top of my lungs, still my cries were as powerless to break through the sound proofed barriers as my physical self had been through the glass. And supernaturally gifted though all of them but my sister were, it seemed it had still happened too fast for them to have time to react. There was nothing I could do but watch helplessly as fire engulfed them.
Chapter Twenty Three – Death to the Wolf
I sprinted down the passage, not caring whether I was plunging into danger or whether Zee and Gwyn were following. All that mattered was finding a way into the other tunnel. After everything I’d already been through to save Amy, I refused to believe she’d been taken from me again and placed firmly back in Death’s clutches.
Stone walls rushed by as I ran, dimly lit by the flame imitation bulbs in their brackets, just the same as in every other passage. There was no evidence of any further hidden doors and I didn’t waste time looking for any, pushing myself onwards until finally I skidded to a stop at the end of a raised platform in another large chamber, though this end of the passageway wasn’t set anywhere near as high up from the floor as it had been in the room where Hannah had been left as bait. I would be able to jump down from the rocky ledge I was on without doing myself any injury and I intended to give myself only a moment to pause and catch my breath before doing so, taking only a brief moment to glance around for the entrance to the adjoining tunnel the others were in. But my eyes were immediately drawn to the far wall.
Fierce amber eyes filled with such rage and murderous intent that I might have been looking into a mirror fixed me with their burning gaze. Slavering jaws filled with deadly fangs were parted in a roar that looked to be equal parts fury and agony, flecks of blood falling from them and down the stone they were painted on. Here was another image in the same kind of gothic style as the artwork I’d favoured in my human life, decorating the wall like the painting of the reaper had in that earlier passage. There were no words that I could see to accompany this one but the message was clear enough, for the huge likeness of my wolf form was impaled by a sword. He stood reared up on his back legs, the blade piercing right through his chest. No hand was depicted holding the weapon but there was plenty of gory detail, more blood raining down from the fatal wound with a large pool of it painted around the wolf’s paws.
It seemed the end of the dungeon had been even closer than Gwyn had implied. I must have been stood in the final chamber, the image there to let me know I was about to meet my end. That surely meant that the demon we were meant to fight was about to appear at any minute, though from where was anyone’s guess.
“Sorry to disappoint you, David, but my death will have to wait,” I said, tearing my eyes from the image and focussing them on the nearest camera, before turning my attention back to any doorways I could find. Once again I had no way of knowing if he could hear me, but it didn’t matter. As before when I’d spoken to the cameras, just saying the words out loud made me feel better, if nothing else.
More stone, unbroken by any apparent doors, met my eyes as they roamed across the walls, confirming my suspicion that I’d reached the end of the dungeon. Unless they were just really well hidden like some of the others I’d encountered, but the more my eyes kept straying to the image of the wounded wolf, the more convinced I became that this was the arena David had picked for the ‘final boss’ battle. Only one other doorway stood open just to the left of the base of the rocky ledge I was on, which surely had to be the passage the others were in. And too concerned for the safety of my sister, I didn’t stop to think about what might trigger the last fight or where my enemy might appear from. I didn’t consider the possibility that the demon might be able to simply materialise in the room with me as the barghest was able to do, perhaps by some command from David or one of his pet spellcasters. I didn’t take the time to ask myself: if this was the kind of video game David had modelled the dungeon on, what would likely happen next?
“Nick!”
Gwyn and Zee were calling for me from somewhere back down the passage where I’d just come from, but I didn’t even wait to find out what they wanted. No, I didn’t have time for any of that so I jumped down with little thought for my own safety. It was only then that I saw the second opening in the rock, gaping dark and wide like the mouth of some great beast. And from within the blackness, movement stirred.
Another stony panel ground into action, sliding down and across the doorway into the tunnel I was so desperate to reach, and I could hear the sounds of a second one closing off my escape back into the passage above. I should have known better than to walk right into this latest trap, but by then it was already too late. Enemies began to stream from that mouth of Hell – not the huge demon I’d been expecting but more of the necromancer’s puppets, though these were all skeletons reanimated to fight for the Slayers, rather than more zombie corpses in varying states of decomposition.
Each bony hand grasped a sword. They bore no shields and wore no armour, and yet as the skeletal warriors poured out from the darkness I couldn’t help but feel I’d stepped out of the real world and right into a fantasy game. David certainly deserved points for making it personalised – it was exactly the type of scenario I would have enjoyed if it had been the kind of virtual reality brought to me on the PlayStation or if I had been watching this happen to fictional characters in a movie, or even reading about it in a book. But no matter how like some kind of fantasy scenario it felt, this was real and there would be no extra lives granted. Maybe I’d been wrong about it all ending in a big boss fight after all. Maybe this was how David wanted to watch me die: cut off from my friends and allies and impaled on the sword of one of the skeletal warriors, just like the wolf in the painting on the wall. And he may very well get his wish.
Vastly outnumbered against foes that I lacked the means to stop, I could only back away from the dozens of skeletons surging out of the dark gateway that might as well have led to Hell itself. They didn’t launch into an immediate attack but instead formed up around that section of the chamber, making any attempt at trying to get through the doorway to the passage where I’d last seen Amy, Varin and the Wilton sisters impossible, even if there had been some way to get the panel to slide open once more. I knew I’d be cut down long before I could locate any more hidden buttons or pressure pads or the like. And I didn’t hold much hope for finding an escape route in the passage they were spilling from either, assuming it would only prove to be a dead end if I could fight my way through to it.
I didn’t know what good it would do me to keep backing up when there was nowhere to run, but I was all too aware that it was a fight I wasn’t likely to win so I kept on retreating, until finally my back pressed up against the wall with its gruesome pictorial message. I didn’t dare take my eyes from the dead warriors, expecting them to attack at any moment. There was no time to search for any hidden doors that might not have been visible to my naked eye, though I didn’t really expect to be met with any joy there either. My one and only hope was to try and even the odds a little before the skeletons were commanded to attack. The time had come to call on the transformation once again, and I’
d just have to pray I could take it far enough in time to give me more of a chance to somehow come out of this fight alive.
So I focussed on the greater strength and bestial fury of my lupine side, ready to embrace the pain and the rush of power that came with unleashing my primal nature in the most physical sense. I let my rage and bloodlust rise up in preparation for the fight ahead. I concentrated on that feral might and altering my form from human to beast, and within moments I felt – nothing. No sensation of my blood boiling, no itching along my skin as fur sprouted, no aching of teeth growing and sharpening into fangs or the unpleasantness of my face stretching outwards into a great muzzle meant for ripping and tearing. Fear stabbed through me. Precious minutes ticked by but no matter how hard I concentrated on willing the change to begin, still I remained trapped in my weaker human form.
A terrible realisation hit me. What if the message painted on the wall at my back wasn’t meant to indicate my death as I’d first thought – what if it was literally the death of my wolf form? And it seemed to me there was only one explanation for what was happening. The injection had been meant for me, not to weaken me physically or kill me (though no doubt David considered those to be satisfying side effects) but to block the power of my transformation somehow. Whether it was only temporary or permanent remained to be seen. The Slayers themselves might not even have the answer to that one, since they wouldn’t have been able to experiment with the serum on any other werewolves. Gwyn had seen them testing it on zombies and ghouls, presumably because they were the best test subjects they could lay their hands on. But I guessed that had been purely to try and gauge whether it would kill me outright as the knocker had seen happen to some of the guinea pigs or if I was likely to survive long enough to suffer the desired effect of being stripped of my ability to shapeshift. I could only hope that the effects would be temporary and that my body would soon overcome it, so I could regain the full power of my lycanthropic nature. Until then, I might as well have been a mortal teenage boy again.