by J. R. Rain
The water continued to rise. Trey’s breathable airspace was reduced to a foot, and then just a few inches. He tilted his head back, his mouth and nose just barely above the waterline. Finally, he took a last, deep breath and plunged underwater.
An unearthly blue glow emanated from below, lighting his way. Trey swam desperately toward it. He swam past the central pillar with its now-broken winding stairway. The rock formation was still crumbling, the blocks of stones falling away in slow motion through the water.
Holding his breath, down he swam as swiftly as he could. He saw that the glow was coming from an underwater tunnel. Trey swam straight for it.
A much brighter blue light came from the far end of the tunnel. Underwater, and with the light, all was silent, eerie, and surreal.
In a matter of seconds, though, Trey’s heartbeat started thudding in his ears.
Finally, he exited the womb-like tunnel and entered the cold loch. He looked up, spots now appearing in his vision from lack of oxygen. The surface was at least a hundred feet up. The setting sun rippled far above. Too far.
Trey’s heartbeat began to slow, as did his movements. More dark spots filled his vision. He was close to passing out, but still he pushed upward.
Suddenly, a massive creature moved swiftly through the water to Trey. It was long and powerfully built, like a prehistoric serpent. It looked scary as hell, flicking its tail and coming straight toward Trey.
It flashed beneath Trey, a dark, impossibly scary shadow. Trey was too weak to care or even acknowledge its existence. As darkness nearly engulfed Trey’s vision, he sensed rather than saw the dark shape rising up rapidly beneath him...he was drawn upward.
Trey broke the surface of the water, gasping, sucking in air like a newborn. Next to him, a slick, black-skinned creature also broke the surface. It flicked its tail once, twice, and then plunged back down, deep beneath Loch Endes.
Trey, recovering from near death, wasn’t sure whether he’d been hallucinating as he watched the giant creature disappear. It was all he could do to stay afloat and not drown.
* * *
An old fisherman grabbed Trey’s hand, but Trey was too weak to pull himself aboard. The old man had to pull Trey out of the cold water.
Cursing, he sat Trey on a side bench and grabbed a blanket from the tiny cabin. He gruffly wrapped it around the thief.
“Thanks,” Trey said.
The old man set his hands on his hips, frowning. “So, what in the devil’s name were you doing out in the middle of the loch, lad?”
“Just out for a swim,” Trey answered.
The old Scottish man grunted, turning back to his helm. “Crazy American bastards,” he muttered, heading for the fishing dock.
As the Scotsman and Trey docked at the pier, three speedboats raced across the loch.
The man pointed in disgust as Trey stepped out of the boat. “Do ya see? American bastards!”
The three boats caught Trey’s attention, especially since they appeared to be manned by guys dressed entirely in black. Trey peered hard, watching the boats, and glimpsed Eve seated between two of the men.
Trey leaped back onto the fishing boat just as the old Scottish man stepped off.
“Hey, waddya doin’, ye ungrateful bastard?”
“Sorry,” Trey said, firing up the boat and throwing it into reverse before the fisherman could do anything. “It’s an emergency.”
The fishing boat’s engine had surprising power, and cut through the loch at a high speed. He angled toward the three speedboats to cut them off.
Draken could barely conceal his surprise when he saw Trey. His dark eyes narrowed.
Eve followed Draken’s gaze. She was elated to see Trey Jordan speeding toward them, even if he was at the helm of a big clumsy boat.
“It appears your friend has nine lives,” Draken commented grimly.
Trey’s stolen fishing boat doggedly kept pace with the three speedboats. Draken motioned to his men, and two of the speedboats peeled away and circled back for Trey. Shooters began firing with semi-automatic weapons.
Trey ducked as bullets shattered the windshield. Now the speedboats were on either side of him. Trey looked desperately from one to the other. His enemies leveled their weapons, taking careful aim.
Just as they fired, Trey threw the boat into reverse. The craft’s engine screeched, and the boat slowed dramatically, just as bullets crisscrossed the now empty space where Trey would have been targeted. One of the shooters was hit, and toppled into the loch.
The other speedboat veered around, turning hard and once again gave chase. He tailed Trey, move for move, firing at him and tearing apart the old Scotsman’s fishing boat.
Trey watched as Draken and company docked at the far side of the loch and Eve was led away. Trey turned the sputtering fishing boat in their direction.
The next few bullets hit the fuel tank, and a second later, the overheated engine exploded. Trey lost all control of the boat. The rudders were gone, everything was gone. The boat was helplessly out of control.
A mud embankment loomed right in front of Trey, with dense trees just beyond. Behind him, the speedboat pulled away, back toward the others. The shooter grinned, his work accomplished.
However, as the fishing boat slammed into the mud bank and launched high into the air, Trey leaped clear of the vessel. He hit the mossy ground rolling, but promptly crashed into the thick trunk of a tree that instantly knocked him unconscious.
* * *
Trey had no idea how long he was out, but it was night when he finally opened his eyes. He groaned and rolled over. A moment later, he sat up and took stock of his injuries. Cuts and bruises, nothing too serious. He grunted, and stood. Just then, he heard the crunch of leaves from behind him.
He turned to find Mack O’Brien standing before him, waving a pistol. “Hurry along,” O’Brien ordered, “or we’ll be late for the party.”
O’Brien led Trey through the thick of the forest, sometimes following what looked like an old footpath. He pushed Trey along with the barrel of his gun.
They made their way to a clearing, surrounded by a ring of ancient Druid stones. Like Stonehenge, the mammoth stone megaliths were arranged in a haphazard circular pattern around a small grassy area within. Beyond the ring spread the deep, dark forest in all directions.
Above, the moon was full, looking remarkably like one of the silver Judas Coins, Trey thought. Within the ring were dozens of dark-robed figures. All holding blazing torches.
Draken stood before his apparent fellow cult members, for that was what they looked like to Trey. Next to Draken there was a stone slab upon which laid Eve Friday, her hands and feet bound by thick chains. She struggled in vain against them.
Chapter Nineteen
At Draken’s command, three of the cult members tied Trey to one of the massive standing stones. Not far away was O’Brien, casually leaning on another such rock formation, watching the bizarre ritual.
“Looks like we’re just in time for the big show,” O’Brien said, grinning.
“What show?” Trey asked, although he had an idea what the answer was.
O’Brien pulled out a silver lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He shook one loose. “Rituals, sacrifices, the usual shit,” he said.
“Where’s Eve?” Trey asked.
“Refer back to the sacrifice part,” O’Brien actually sounded cheerful.
Trey strained against the ropes, but it was useless. “How about a smoke, then?”
O’Brien considered it, then shrugged. “What the hell,” he said, walking over to Trey. “Even a man standing before a firing squad gets a final smoke.”
As O’Brien held out a cigarette, Trey attacked. He kicked up both legs and hooked them around O’Brien’s neck.
“On second thought,” Trey grunted, “I don’t smoke.”
The Irish thief fought back, but Trey had a hell of a leg lock around the man’s neck. He applied more and more pressure.
The cult memb
ers were preoccupied with their ritual; the fight went unnoticed. O’Brien quickly turned purple. Trey squeezed harder. The Irishman’s glancing blows started to lose steam. Trey held on a little longer before releasing O’Brien, who toppled to the ground, lying motionless.
Next to O’Brien’s still body lay the silver lighter. Trey dug the toe of his boot into the soft grass under the lighter. He lifted the lighter off the ground, balanced now on the top of his boot. Trey kicked up and the lighter flipped through the air—
It landed precariously between his shoulder blades and the stone megalith behind him. Trey worked his hand behind his back, fighting the ropes that bound him. Then he made a slight adjustment with his shoulder. As he did so, the lighter slipped down between his back and the rock. It landed squarely in the center of Trey’s palm. He breathed a sigh of relief at his skill and extremely good luck.
He flipped the lighter open, snapping to life a blue flame, and blindly held it beneath the heavy ropes that bound his wrists. It was a slow way to break free, but it was better than nothing.
As the rope slowly burned, Trey anxiously watched the strange ritual taking place within the circle of stones.
Suddenly, a fist appeared in front of Trey, hitting him hard and squarely in the jaw. His head snapped back and smashed into the stone behind him. He dropped the lighter. The ropes behind him had only been partially burned through.
As his vision cleared, Trey’s eyes came into focus on a very pissed off Mack O’Brien standing directly in front of him. “You don’t smoke, eh?”
SMACK!! O’Brien’s second punch sent Trey’s senses reeling. Still tied, his eyes rolled up in their sockets and blood poured from his nose. He sagged helplessly against his bindings.
“I hate when people take advantage of my kindness,” O’Brien growled. He hit Trey a third time, hard as hell, bone against bone, and busting Trey’s face. The honest thief fell limp.
* * *
Within the circle of Druid stones, Draken raised his hands. The leather pouch containing the eight remaining Judas Coins sat on a stone pedestal next to him. The pouch started to pulsate even brighter.
A vortex of energy vibrated, and suddenly, purple, swollen clouds swirled high above them. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the sky.
Trey hung limp, nearly unconscious. O’Brien circled him. Trey watched with half-open, swollen eyes. Blood poured from his nose and mouth.
“Now, my friend,” O’Brien said gruffly, “it’s time to close the curtain on this show.”
He picked up a heavy tree branch. He smiled wickedly and swung the branch, hard.
At the last possible second, Trey ducked. The branch smashed into the section of rock where Trey’s head had just been. Wood splintered everywhere.
Behind his back, Trey still strained against the ropes. They were almost nearly burned all the way through, and Trey’s muscles bulged as he struggled against the bindings.
O’Brien, still grinning, tossed the branch from hand to hand. He cocked his arms back, ready to deliver a fatal blow.
Suddenly, Trey burst forward as if shot from a cannon, the ropes snapping free. He tackled O’Brien to the ground, and the two men tumbled through the grass and mud, fists flying.
Both were unaware of the strange events Draken was creating within the circle of stones.
Draken waved his hand and the leather pouch opened on its own. The eight remaining Coins rose magically into the air. Each Coin glowed fiercely, like drops of silver lava. Draken opened his shirt. The twenty Coins strapped across his body rose up from their slots as well, joining the others.
For the first time in centuries, twenty-eight of all thirty Judas Coins were together again.
Draken moved his fingers in an intricate pattern and the coins began rotating and spinning.
Trey Jordan and Mack O’Brien stopped rolling. Both were now covered with dirt and twigs. Trey was badly wounded, but summoned some inner reserve and threw a punch that drove O’Brien’s head back onto the ground. From his back, the Irishman, a street brawler himself, kicked Trey square in the face, sending the master thief straight to his knees.
Both men stood and squared off. Trey looked horrible. O’Brien, eyes swelling rapidly, didn’t look much better. Behind O’Brien was the circle of stones, which started to rise up into the mist like gray giants.
Draken’s eyes blazed as, one by one, the Coins grouped together. Still hovering in mid-air, the Coins began taking on the shape of a rotating three-dimensional silver globe. However, as they formed closer together, Draken realized it wasn’t a globe at all—the Coins were forming a human face.
Chapter Twenty
The face revolved slowly for all to see. But it was incomplete. Two of the Coins were still missing.
Draken turned to Eve, who had stopped struggling. She stared openly at the Coins, clearly entranced by the dark powers they held. “Join me,” he said to her. “Join me and the Coins will be yours, too.”
It took all of Eve’s willpower to resist. When she spoke, her voice was weak. “Go to Hell,” she uttered.
Draken only laughed. “Better yet, why don’t I bring Hell to you?”
Draken motioned with his right hand and two disk shapes rose up against the fabric of her blouse. They were, of course, the last two Judas Coins. They slipped out from under her blouse and rose up into the air. Draken’s red lips formed an insane, wicked grin.
* * *
O’Brien was bleeding badly from a cut to his head. He suddenly reached inside his jacket and produced the silver glove he’d used earlier. The Hand of Nuada. He pulled it on. Trey watched in awe as the glove supernaturally sealed itself to O’Brien’s hand. In fact, the glove became a part of his hand, transforming his entire arm into something animal-like: muscular and bulging, fingers impossibly long, with black hideous claws.
With an evil light in his eyes, O’Brien flexed his new hand, displaying the wicked claws. “The Bearer of the Hand is imbued with the power of the old Celtic Gods.” He looked down and flexed his new-grown weapon, then back up at Trey. “I like that part. Goodbye, Trey Jordan.”
O’Brien made a powerful fist and smashed it against a nearby boulder, pulverizing it.
Trey took a step back. “Okay, now that’s just not fair.”
Like a man possessed, the Irishman unleashed a deadly lightning-quick assault. The supernatural fist appeared again and again; it was all Trey could do to stay out of its deadly path. With each swing, a crackling trail of hissing quicksilver followed in the air behind the swinging arm.
Trey found himself backed into a stone megalith. O’Brien grinned wickedly and swung his lethal hand. Trey ducked, narrowly avoiding the claws that left behind a searing black trail deep within the rock behind him. O’Brien used his other hand to throw Trey back against the huge stone. Trey slammed into it hard, but as he did so, something popped out of his shirt. The Fourth Nail. Trey quickly snapped it free from around his neck.
O’Brien raised the Hand of Nuada, opened the long fingers, spreading them wild. He threw a powerful punch. Trey ducked again, slid to one side and slashed hard with the Fourth Nail.
The Hand of Nuada and the Fourth Nail came together in a massive explosion of light. Trey was blown backward, tumbling, but he scrambled to his feet to see the Fourth Nail plunged deep into the palm of the Hand of Nuada—and into the giant Druid stone. The very nail that was meant for the palm of Christ instead penetrated the hand of this ancient supernatural relic.
Screaming in agony, O’Brien yanked with all his might, but his hand was firmly impaled into the stone.
Trey watched as the Hand of Nuada began to crumble away...along with O’Brien’s real hand. And the crumbling didn’t stop at his hand. It traveled up his arm, then his shoulder, and then beyond.
O’Brien screamed in agony as his body slowly crumbled away.
Trey turned away, sickened. He wouldn’t have wished that death on anyone, not even O’Brien.
He approached the circle of
stones, only to find himself engrossed in an even more bizarre scene.
Within the Druid Stone ring, the final two coins, once hidden inside Eve’s blouse, rose into the air and completed the three-dimensional face, forming the eyes. The face continued to spin around in the air above the worshipping cult. Finally, it stopped and settled its gaze on Draken.
The face was, in fact, that of Judas Iscariot, the Great Betrayer. Its lips curled into a vulgar smile. The silver eyes, composed of the silver Coins, bore into Draken’s. Draken bowed low before it.
“Welcome back, my Lord Judas,” Draken said humbly. “You’ve been sealed away far too long. It is my great pleasure to give you freedom, and in so doing, I can only hope you will reward your humble servant.”
The silver head of Judas tilted back with laughter. The sound was pure evil. Even Draken took a step back.
Suddenly, the Coins burst apart. They swirled and came together once again. But this time, they did not form the face of Judas Iscariot. This time, they formed a hideous horned creature. A creature straight from the bowels of Hell. It was, in fact, the face of Satan.
Trey watched, and Eve watched as once again the Coins exploded apart. They began to swirl around Draken’s body. Draken held out his arms and tilted his head back, in ecstasy of this pure, evil bliss.
The Coins spun around him faster and faster. They began to take on a shape much larger than Draken. The Coins were soon spinning so quickly they were only a blur. Finally, they disappeared altogether in a flash of silver light.
Above, the sky was a stormy chaos of angry clouds. A jagged bolt of lightning appeared, streaking down from the heavens into Draken.
For a few brief seconds, Draken was surrounded in molten silvery light. The bolt of lightning held, galvanizing Draken with pure, evil energy. Draken had already grown by several feet.
Trey Jordan watched all this in horror, his blue eyes reflecting the silvery light.