"The gate was an absorber," Fiona said. "We have lost our protections. From now on we must be more careful."
"Shit. I'm sorry," I said, and I felt it. I was out of my depth here-I didn't understand what was going on, and I would be putting the other two in danger with my stupidity.
Fiona must have seen some of those thoughts on my face.
"It's okay, Derek. The spell got us further than we thought it would, anyway. We'll just have to put up with anything they throw at us from now on."
It looked like fun time was over.
The house lay ahead of us, twin eyes scrutinizing us in unblinking hate. Dunlop suddenly looked ill again. His skin had regained its yellow pallor and he was hunched over like a whipped dog. New flecks of blood had appeared around his mouth and his eyes seemed to have sunk several inches back into his skull,
Fiona put an arm around his shoulders, leading him forward, and we passed through the open gate.
Now that Fiona's spell had gone I felt the oppressive force from the house bearing down on us. Black leafless trees reached at us like charred, animated skeletons, and the door of the house waited for us like a maw leading straight to hell. By the time we had got halfway along the drive I had to help Fiona with Dunlop, and by the time we reached the door he seemed a dead weight in our arms.
Fiona asked me to put him down, gently, and we laid him on the black granite steps. I've never seen anyone look more like a corpse yet still be alive.
"The jars," he gasped, and Fiona shook her head violently, but he insisted. "It's the only way. It will give me a couple of hours-that's all I need."
I seemed to have missed something important. There were tears in her eyes as she undid the straps of the backpack. As she took the jars out they gleamed with their own sickly red light.
"It'll kill you," she said, and the tears ran down her cheeks.
"I'm dying anyway," Dunlop replied. "We knew that already. I need to be strong so that I can go the way I want to go."
She nodded, and handed him the jars.
Dunlop grasped for them eagerly, and the look in his eyes was a mixture of anticipation and self-loathing.
"Don't look," he said. "This might not be very pleasant."
Fiona and I turned away, but it wasn't enough to hide the chewing noises. I wanted to ask what was in the jars, but I was afraid of the answer. When we turned back the jars were empty and he looked marginally better. A trickle of fresh blood ran from the side of his mouth and his eyes looked dead and black.
Finally I plucked up enough courage to ask.
"What was that?" I said, but he refused to answer.
"The flesh is the life. Sometimes we have to do repellent things to achieve our goals," was all he said before turning his attention to the door.
It looked like a solid piece of oak, and I guessed it would be several inches thick, but Dunlop merely put his hand on it and muttered several words under his breath. It swung open, revealing a well-lit hall beyond.
Whoever had decorated the place had a fine sense of Gothic melodrama. Black velvet draped from every conceivable hanging place and the chandeliers were enormous, Victorian extravagances. The staircase that led away into the darkness looked to be made from black marble, and portraits of a whole army of malevolent individuals glared at us from the walls. If Durban had built this place the antiques business must pay better than I ever imagined.
It took us five minutes to find the entrance to the crypt. Dunlop had been right-the rest of the house was still and quiet-but when we found the right door we could hear the far off, muted sound of chanting. My skin crawled and goosebumps spread over my arms.
"Party time," Dunlop said. "If you get a chance, grab the amulet." He coughed and I could hear the watery gurgle in his lungs. Just as he moved towards the door he staggered and almost fell. I moved forward to help him but he brushed me away.
"Don't worry," he said, his voice almost too low to be heard. "I've got enough strength left to do what needs to be done."
"What's Plan B? What do we do if they finish the ritual?" I asked, aware that I didn't have any idea of what was happening, what I was supposed to do.
"Pray," Fiona said from behind me as she brushed past and was the first to go down into the crypt. Dunlop followed her, leaving me bringing up the rear.
Just as we started down the chanting from below stopped and silence descended, leaving us to the quiet, heavy dark that loomed around us.
The walls were built of large blocks of sandstone. I had visited several Neolithic tombs, in Carnac, in Orkney and on Salisbury Plain. This gave the same sense of age, of a time long past. What I hadn't expected, what was completely different, was the overwhelming feeling that this place was in use. The walls ran damp and there was a salt tang in the air, but there was no sign of moss or lichen on the walls-only the damp glistening stone and the carvings.
I didn't have time to study them, but I could see that they didn't fit with any system I'd ever heard of. Doug might have made sense of them, but he wasn't here. The thought of my friend's fate gave me added impetus, and I walked faster down the steps.
The path kept going down, deeper and deeper, and the air was getting colder and damper. At first the light from the hall above dimly lighted the way, but the path curved and we were soon in darkness. I groped my way along the walls, led on by the liquid breathing from Dunlop, and tried not to think of tentacled monstrosities creeping along in the darkness behind us.
I judged that we must be under the sea by now, and the thought of all that water above added an extra worry line to my already furrowed brow. At least the passage hadn't diverged. Not yet, anyhow.
I started to wonder how far we had to go when I heard the noise. It was far off and sounded like the morning cry of a gull, but the noise grated on my nerves and sent a cold shiver down my spine.
"Tukeli li. Tukeli li."
It pounded in my head like a chant. I was so busy listening that I stumbled when my foot didn't meet the expected step and the path leveled out.
A soft hand covered my mouth, and I smelled Fiona's perfume as she led me away from the entrance. My eyes started to acclimatize themselves to the room, and I could see that it wasn't quite pitch dark.
We were in a small chamber, cut off from another room beyond by a heavy black curtain. Dunlop was peering through a small gap. He turned and motioned for us to follow as he slipped through to a large, candlelit chamber, some thirty feet in diameter. There were twelve hooded figures at the far end, standing in front of some sort of altar, all with their backs to us. Dunlop led us around a column of rock from behind which we were able to watch the proceedings.
It looked like we had arrived just in time. A tall figure I recognized as Durban moved forward and placed the amulet on the altar. I made a move, but was pulled back by Fiona. "Not yet," she mouthed silently, keeping a tight grip on my arm.
Durban prostrated himself in front of the altar, and the group began to chant. I couldn't be sure, but it sounded like the same one they had used the previous night, its dissonance and slightly off-tune harmonics shaking the walls around us, making the room feel even colder than it already was.
Once more the old woman stepped forward, and the song started again. I guessed we were about to see the return of the tentacled creature.
I was proved right several seconds later when the fetid odor spread throughout the chamber and there was a rippling in the air above the altar.
This time it came through already changed, the pumpkin head forcing itself into existence first, tearing a rapidly growing hole in space, like a monstrous birthing. The air in the chamber had become thick and cloying, and the echoes of the chanting rang all around us.
And there seemed to be an answering from beyond the hole being made by the thing-high-pitched piping like some crazed flute player in the unimaginable distance.
The tentacled head kept coming, the head at least five feet across and the tentacles now nearly as thick as my wrist where they met
the head. It pushed the final piece of its bulk through, pulling the torso and legs through behind it, and lay on the altar, head pulsing in time with the chanting.
The hole in space stayed open above it, a black chasm through which a chill wind whistled, bringing a thin coating of frost to the altar. The flute was still there, closer now, and a deep, bass drumming had joined it, a primitive throbbing that jerked my nerves and made me want to throw off my clothes and dance.
I had actually begun to move forward when Dunlop turned me towards him. He touched me between the eyes with his stick of wood and the compulsion left me as suddenly as it had come. I could still hear the drumming, it still beat heavy in my head, but I no longer wished to obey it.
On the altar two of the tentacles swayed above the bulbous head, then brought themselves down onto the amulet. As they touched it there was a burst of green light, and as they lifted it up towards the black hole in reality the chanting changed, becoming louder and more guttural.
The black hole began to grow, ripping its way open in the air with a tearing scream, and the green light oozed through to the other side, travelling against the flow of the wind. The reedy piping got louder, until I felt that my eardrums were going to burst, and that was when Dunlop made his move.
He moved past me like a bat out of hell, screaming at the top of his lungs, blue lancing flame shooting from the piece of wood in his hand. He was aiming straight for the thing on the altar, and it didn't look like anything would stop him.
Then all hell broke loose.
Fiona began to sing, softly at first but rapidly rising to a crescendo, drowning out the piping. The cowled figures scattered before Dunlop's attack, but the pumpkin head never moved, seemingly soaking up the blue flame.
I felt a hand push me in the back. "Help him!" Fiona said before returning to her song, and I staggered, off balance, into the robed group. I was among them before they realized it, and I got halfway towards Dunlop before they thought of stopping me.
A large figure blocked my path. I shoved him to one side, but he grabbed my arm and partly turned me around. I threw a punch, but only succeeded in dislodging the cowl, which fell back, revealing Durban's craggy face. I struggled to regain my balance when his fist slammed into my jaw, knocking me backward towards the left-hand side of the altar.
The blow wasn't hard, but it was enough to make me lose my balance again. As I fell I heard a tearing in the air behind me. I put my hand out to steady myself and hit the edge of the altar. Immediately a tentacle made a grab for my wrist. I just managed to pull my hand away but was unable to retain balance. There was a further tearing noise, like a piece of paper being slowly ripped.
A wind rose, first tugging gently, but as I fell backwards it turned into a raging, roaring gale. The blackness sucked me in like a fly into a vacuum cleaner.
I think I screamed but the wind in my ears drowned out all other noise. I could see only inky blackness as I fell and fell and fell, the darkness tugging at me, the wind ruffling my hair.
My muscles tensed, expecting a landing, ready for impact, but the wind began to die down. It felt like I was slowing. I waved my arms around my head, but could feel nothing except the thick blackness. The air was heavy, almost the consistency of water, but I could still breathe, as I slowed even further. Finally, I stopped, floated in darkness, no idea of up or down
I rolled over onto my back, and there, an unimaginable distance away, was a small blue light, twinkling like a star.
From somewhere far beneath I could hear the distant sound of manic piping, but it sounded further away that it had when I was in the chamber. Apart from that there was no other noise, no other light. The air moved sluggishly around me, tasteless and odorless. I almost felt calm.
I discovered that I could propel myself by using swimming actions and began to make my way towards the light, slowly at first, but ever accelerating as my body got into the rhythm of the actions.
It was heavy going and at first I didn't seem to be making much headway, but then the light seemed to pulse brighter, the hole growing, and I began to move even faster towards it. In the distance I could hear Fiona singing, her voice still strong, still pure, leading me back to the light.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of light, like a stray moonbeam in a cloudy sky. And I heard it, the soft cry, the voice I had heard in my dreams.
"Help me," it said, and I had no doubt that it came from Doug. "Help me!" it shouted again, and this time the voice rose to a scream, a scream full of pain and despair. I had one last, longing, look at the blue dancing light before turning away towards the sound of my friend.
The going got tough, like swimming through treacle, but I was getting there, even though it was now like swimming through thick oil. The piping was getting noticeably louder and more frantic as I got closer, and the drums beat louder, pounding into my head and reverberating in my chest cavity until my heart was beating along in time.
Doug lay in a pool of light, curled up into a fetal ball, hugging his knees so hard that I could see the whiteness at his knuckles. I quickly checked his body for punctures, but there was only one obvious wound-a weeping hole in his cheek.
There was something else there, though, very close to him, a deeper cloud of blackness that seemed to be the source of the piping, but I didn't have time to study it further-my only thought was for Doug.
He still had his back to me. I pulled myself forward and touched his arm. His body unfolded and he turned to face me, already screaming.
"Help me!"
I had a sudden flash of my dream, of the tentacles bursting from him, but his eyes looked so full of fear and panic that I was unable to refuse. I took his hand, pulling him towards me, trying not to look at the festering hole in his cheek. He grabbed me, tight, and hugged me so hard that I began to worry about broken ribs. Suddenly I heard Fiona's singing again, and it got colder, so cold that small ice crystals formed in the air around us.
The piping rose in intensity and I sensed a movement behind me, at the same time noticing that the blue star seemed to be speeding towards us, growing as it came. There was a crackling, and I could feel static run over my body, and my hair stood on end. I turned, and saw that the blackness behind me had also grown and expanded. Things moved in it, black amorphous shapes that struggled and pushed as if against a plastic membrane, trying to break through.
Suddenly we were bathed in blue, crackling light, and space ripped around us as the two holes converged and met. There was a blinding flash and when my eyes adjusted we were lying beneath the altar, back in the chamber.
I looked up, and could not believe what I saw.
Above me Dunlop was held in the tentacles of the pumpkin head, five of them around his waist alone, a multitude of small puncture marks covering his body, blood pulsing slowly from each of them. But the creature wasn't getting it all its own way. Four tentacles lay limp against the head, their ends looking oddly twisted and charred.
Dazzling blue flame shot from the wand in his hand and the smell of charred flesh rose from the red, bulbous head. The history of Dunlop's attack was there-the head was furrowed by four canyons of burnt, steaming flesh, the smell of cooking meat heavy in the air.
Dunlop tried to reach the amulet that was still being held above the head, but now by only one tentacle.
I raised my eyes to the tentacle, and was almost riven through in shock. Beyond the amulet the ceiling was a mass of writhing blackness.
Imagine a black plastic bin bag filled with writhing snakes, and you'll have some idea of what I saw. Some idea, but nothing could really describe the overwhelming sense of dread I felt as I looked at it.
The veil was thin and stretched in places-whatever was behind striving hard to break through, it didn't look like it would be too long before it succeeded.
Somewhere behind me Fiona still sang, but I couldn't turn to look, blocked by Doug who lay whimpering in my arms. I moved sideways, lowering him gently to the floor, and tried t
o stand. Dunlop shouted at me.
"Derek!"
His voice was strained, and I couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of pain he must have been in, but he was still lucid, and he still fought.
I looked up. Several of the tentacles burrowed into his body, the blood gushing in torrents at his waist and shoulders. But there was little trace of pain in his voice as he spoke again.
"Get Fiona out of here! And don't take no for an answer!"
That was all he had time for. By speaking to me he had given the tentacles an opening, and one of them attached itself to his left hand, chewing its way through fingers, spattering fine droplets of blood onto my face.
I got to my feet and looked around. Durban lay on the ground, not six feet from me, dead eyes staring roofward. His hand clutched at his chest, at a gaping, smoking hole. I guessed that he had got in Dunlop's way.
There was no sign of the rest of the coven. Fiona stood where I had left her. She still sang strongly, but tears glistened in her eyes and ran unfettered down her cheeks as she watched what happened to her husband.
At my feet Doug tried to get up, his eyes wild and deranged as he stared around the room. There was madness in his eyes, and a terrible fear. He clawed at me as I helped him to his feet, clinging to me as the only recognizable thing in the hell that his life had become.
"Get out of here!" I shouted at him, twice before he understood me. He nodded his head as I pushed him away, directing him towards the exit before heading for Fiona.
"Come on!" I shouted, trying to make myself heard above the cacophony of fluting that echoed through the chamber. I grabbed her by the shoulders but she shrugged me off easily.
"We've got to get away from here. It's over," I said, gently, but with some fervor. I was as eager as Doug to get as far away from this place as possible. She shook her head without breaking her singing and began to move towards the altar. I really had no choice but to follow her, but I was stopped in my tracks by the sight that met me when I turned.
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