“We have to make it back to the tunnel,” Clay said, pulling her towards the Great Room and then around and down the corridor towards the steps to the lower level from where they had entered through the tunnel.
As they ran, Clay separated from Maria for a moment and scooped up a sword that had been blown off a wall. Ruger in one hand and sword in the other, he raced to the head of the stairs; they had just started down when they heard the clicking noises and the squat, freakish familiars ran en mass towards the base of the stairs. Their reddish orange figures appeared by the hundreds from down a hallway scrambling, slipping and falling in a mad haste to reach their quarry.
Five scuttled up the stairs and met Clay and Maria halfway; he fired five times in quick success knocking them backwards to be quickly replaced by ten more. He fired his last bullet, jammed the Ruger into his belt and pushed Maria behind him as he wielded the sword cutting into the small mutants with devastating results. Guts, brains, blood and tissue flooded the staircase in a bloody carnage causing those trying to run up the stairs to slip in the gore and fall back into others. But, as he hacked away at the drone-like figures, he realized that there was no winning this battle; two dead ones were quickly replaced by two others and five wounded were replaced by 10 others trying to crowd onto the steps.
“Back up the stairs,” he shouted. As soon as Maria had made it to the top, he flung the sword at the small freaks and ran back up to join her.
The familiars followed but surprisingly slammed to a stop at the head of the stairs, obviously afraid to come any farther. They squeaked and clicked at each other, their eyes rolling and pincher claws snapping but none seemed to have the courage to trespass into what must be their master’s domain.
Clay pulled out the revolver again, spilled the empty shells, and punched six more rounds into the weapon via another speedloader. He had two speedloaders left still secure on his gun belt. Both he and Maria were panting from the tension and exertion. Clay desperately looked backwards down the corridor towards the Great Room. They had to pass through it to try the foyer again.
“C’mon,” he said, less sure now they would ever make it out.
“Where’s Adramelech?” Maria cried, franticly.
“I don’t know but pray he’s busy,” Clay answered. “Let’s go.”
They ran full tilt back down the hall, their shoes clattering on the stone floor, only to almost run into Father Gallo who was heading towards them. “Maria, give me your Crucifix. I’ll hold him off if he comes back. You save the Relic.” She passed him the cross and he seemed to gain strength from it. “Try the front doors.”
“They’re in flames, we can’t get through,” Clay said.
“Try again,” Father Gallo yelled. “You’ll never get by those things downstairs.”
The doorway in the foyer was still burning though less ferociously. Clay estimated that within a minute or two, there might be a space clear enough for them to jump through. Facing the inferno he heard some clatter and could make out movements outside on the drawbridge.
“Jesus, Adramelech’s waiting for us out there,” he guessed, breathing hard. “Come Maria, Father...back to the Great Room...maybe there’s another way out.” Gasping desperately for air they all ran back, Father Gallo bringing up the rear. They had barely entered the Great Room when there was another explosion from the foyer behind them followed by the sound of machine-gun fire ricocheting off the stone walls. At that moment, Adramelech in his full and true demonic form strode into the Great Room, took two steps to clear the stone archway and leaped upward spreading his wings and rising thirty feet in the air to glare down at them from near the ceiling.
He was a ferocious sight, indeed. Gone were the smiling midnight blue eyes and the handsome face, replaced by yellow catlike orbs set in a triangular head with arched cheekbones. A slanted mouth revealed razor sharp teeth glinting between thin lips drawn back in a perpetual snarl. He was entirely naked and his blue-black hairless skin was taunt and sickly shiny, stretched over a muscular frame. Two formidable horns protruded from his forehead, and pointed ears were set flat to his head. Surrounding him were large, angry blue-bottle flies buzzing and swarming.
With arms out, as though in supplication, he hovered on two ribbed, bat-like wings that slowly moved keeping him aloft. His arms ended in talon-like claws which now opened and closed in eager anticipation of what he would do to those staring up at him in dread.
As shouts sounded in the background, Clay felt an unquenchable fear; he was looking into the face of a terrible death. He was certain that he and the woman he loved were about to be killed. Unless...! There was one last desperate chance, one possibility that might let them live a few minutes longer and he took it. He held the revolver with one hand and grabbed the Relic’s case from Maria with the other.
~ 11 ~
As Malachi and his men raced towards the yellow glow of the burning drawbridge, a stronger wind had suddenly begun to blow sending the heavy cloud cover racing across the night sky away from the castle. In fact, it came not from any point of the compass but from on high – it was blowing straight down. As the clouds cleared away in all directions simultaneously, cascading carpets of millions of stars appeared against a deep purple backdrop; the brilliant points of the various constellations gleamed overhead. The full moon had also emerged once more, and flooded the area with a milky white light allowing the men to see their way.
They reached the drawbridge and the two priests began picking up flaming boards and throwing them left and right, some falling into the moat where they struck the water with a hiss and were doused. Protected by their gloves, the Crusaders worked to clear a path for Malachi and Cruickshank; the latter now wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into.
“Who is this chap?” the detective asked. “How in bloody hell could he live up here in such a place and not be inundated with tourists, or at least questioned by the local constabulary?”
“For Heaven’s sake...I told you that he’s not a man, Ian.” Malachi yelled irritably as they moved forward.
Malachi’s satellite phone suddenly rang and all action stopped. Cruickshank raised his eyebrows and the two priests looked at him incredulously, their expressions imaginable but indiscernible since they were silhouetted against the burning entranceway.
“I know, I know...” the cardinal grumbled at the others, punching the receive button.
“It’s Heinz,” Rautenberg said, from afar.
“Not now,” Malachi replied shortly. “We’re storming the ramparts, Heinz. And, I mean just that.”
“That’s just it,” the Monsignor said. “I was looking at a satellite photo of the area from a month ago. That place wasn’t there.”
“What wasn’t where?”
“The castle wasn’t there. The structure just appeared in the last month. A physical impossibility based on its size–.”
“Noted,” Malachi responded, perfunctorily. “Thank you, my friend. Must go.” He punched the end button and said to the others: “Ask and ye shall receive. This entire structure wasn’t on a satellite photo taken last month. Small wonder that over the years we couldn’t find it. It’s only here when he needs it. Still think we’re dealing with a mere madman, Chief Superintendent?”
Cruickshank spread his hands in ignorance and remained mute, wondering what sort of illusory world he had entered. Was he really trying to break into a castle on the moors in the middle of the night with demons afoot, or was it all a bizarre dream? The answer came all too soon in the voice of one of the priests.
“We’ll have to blow the other door and get some of the wreckage away at the same time,” Father Nathaniel explained. Father Oberon was working in the background setting C-4 explosive charges at just the right locations. Nathaniel joined Oberon at the wrecked doors.
The two Crusaders worked quickly pushing the electronic fuses into the cakes of putty-like material and placing them around the door avoiding the blackened and twisted metal stays from the first
door which formed an effective barrier to their entry. They soon ran back to Malachi and Cruickshank holding a small transmitter. Its electronic numerals glowed red as Oberon flipped a button cover up on the remote control. “I’ll set them all off simultaneously and blow the other door into the moat,” he said. “We’ll have to retreat a good few hundred yards.”
If any of the four men had not been concentrating on the expected explosion and happened to look up, they might have seen a star slowly descending from the night sky until it resolved itself into a glowing, pulsing ball of white translucence Light that stationed itself over the castle. The Light expanded and contracted like a living mini star, but one that sent out waves of energy signifying peace, love, morality...and justice.
~ 12 ~
“Maria,” Clay said tightly, ignoring the shouting that was growing in intensity outside the hall. He heard shooting begin again. He had no idea if the shooters were friends or foes and there wasn’t time to find out. He held the case up as a shield against Adramelech who hovered above them, a wicked smile twisting his already mutated features. The gleam of intelligence was gone from the demon’s eyes replaced by the fixed stare of a cunning predator. Clay said to Maria: “When I say ‘go,’ we run for the window with you behind me. Stay close!” he looked at the old priest. “Father Gallo, I’m sorry.”
“Never mind, I now have the answer to so many of my questions, my young friends. Our Lord is alive and engaged as this heathen Beast will soon find out. Please forgive me as I did not know what I was doing. I love you both in Christ.”
“Forgiven,” Clay and Maria said, simultaneously.
As more shouts erupted and machine gun fire intensified, the demon was momentarily distracted and spun slightly in the air to face new enemies at the entrance to the Great Hall. Clay raised the revolver and fired four times into Adramelech watching the demon take the hits. He slapped his revolver back into its holster. Father Gallo wound up like a starting baseball pitcher and, with all his might, threw the Crucifix hitting the demon in the chest; the Beast bellowed and reared back in the air as though stung.
Fathers Oberon and Nathaniel were first into the hall just as the orange familiars poured from another entranceway to engage them. Their weapons chattered on full auto as they raked the squat gargoyles with withering fire. Body parts exploded quickly covering the floor with red mucus and shiny hunks of yellow and orange flesh.
Oberon slapped a fresh clip into his weapon and opened up again quickly tearing up another twenty small bodies which tumbled, slipped and fell backwards. The familiars were beginning to thin out as both Oberon and Nathaniel dropped their M-16s, whipped the Brugger & Thomet’s off their chests and put an end to the remaining few. The Beast in the air screamed in fury and turned its full attention to the attackers.
From somewhere behind the Crusaders came the disbelieving voice of Chief Superintendent Cruickshank: “My sainted aunt...what the hell is that??”
Father Nathaniel shoved his sub machine gun into Oberon’s arms, pulled the custom shotgun with the blessed bolt forward from where it was hung behind his back, and pointed it towards Adramelech now descending towards them.
The priest cocked it, aimed dead center at the Beast’s chest and fired. The bolt exploded from the weapon towards the demon’s heart. A fraction of a second before it reached him, Adramelech pivoted in the air with a smile and the bolt flew harmlessly down the hall.
Clay saw the men out of the corner of his eye and seized the moment. “Go!” he cried to Maria, as Oberon and Nathaniel both opened up with their sub machine guns again and dozens of rounds whistled overhead striking the demon. “Follow me!”
Clay and Maria turned as one and ran for their lives, their feet pounding on the stone floor, both sucking air desperately into their lungs. As ricochets and pieces of chipped stone peppered where they had been moments before, they flew towards the huge stained glass window at the end of the hall. Their open anoraks flapped straight out behind them like yellow wings.
Adramelech, hit by the slugs, screamed in rage as he rained down a form of blood that hit the stone floor and sizzled like bacon fat, its natural acidity immediately eating holes in the rock. But it wasn’t doing much good for the Crusaders as the healing instantly renewed each wound. Suddenly he folded his wings, dropped like a stone, seized the terrified but resigned Father Gallo in his claws, and dragged him heavenward. When the Beast reached the Great Hall ceiling, he grinned wickedly and opened his arms. The old priest didn’t yell or fight; he merely fell silently towards the stone floor, all doubts about his holy calling fully resolved at the moment of his execution.
Panting like racehorses as they neared the window, Clay saw the lip of the frame was a few dozen inches off the floor and at least a yard wide; thinking fast, he realized it would give them a good base on which to launch themselves. With Maria close behind, he picked out the spot he would hit on the window.
At the same time he desperately tried to place the location of the window in the castle; likely the north east side. But how high and what lay beneath? If they were lucky, the moat would extend all the way around the castle. Being unlucky meant they would suffer grave injury or fall to their deaths. Still, there was no choice. They had to try it.
They reached the lip, Clay aimed the Relic case towards the point he’d selected and kicked off with all his strength straight for the spot in the stained glass with the criss-crossed leading that he surmised would be its weakest point. Holding the case close, he suddenly jabbed it in front of him with all his strength. It broke through the glass weakening it and allowing Clay’s body to explode through punching a much larger hole as it shattered and clattered around him.
Glass shards burst outward....
...Clay shot into nothingness...
...And, Maria followed!
Together, they plummeted towards their fate.
They hit the cold, black water and plunged straight down submerging a good fifteen feet before their bodies slowed and they hung suspended in an inky darkness surrounded by an eerie silence. Neither could see the other, but both felt the freezing water flooding into their clothes and overwhelming all other senses. Within seconds, the need to take a breath became urgent. They had used up all their oxygen in their run and their lungs screamed for more.
Panicking, Maria tried to thrash upward. She had never been a good swimmer and she wasn’t making any headway. Weighed down by the heavy wool sweater, her boots and her outer covering, she began to sink. Oh no, she thought, she couldn’t die here; it wasn’t to be.
Twenty feet away, Clay clawed his way to the surface and gulped a lungful of air, his legs working hard to tread water. “Maria?!” he shouted, twisting desperately left and right in the water.
Nothing.
“Maria...where are you?” Clay cried again, his voice urgent. “Maria!”
Almost twenty feet down, Maria struggled valiantly to pull herself from the muddy bottom of the moat. Numbed by the freezing water, exhausted by her efforts, her movements were sluggish and ineffective. As her strength ebbed, a comforting detachment and acceptance was already rising from the deeper recesses of her mind.
Dear Clay, she thought. How she loved him. How she had hoped against hope for a reprieve from the inevitability of her vision. How she wished desperately for him to escape what was to come and, instead, find the happiness that had eluded him for so long. But, at the same time, she also felt anger and betrayal; this wasn’t what she had foreseen. How could this have happened? Jesus help me, she prayed.
As the need for air became all encompassing, she desperately shook her head, trying to force her body to wait; she yelled a muffled cry for help through closed lips.
Taking a breath meant certain death.
No, she cried in her mind. I can’t!
But finally Maria’s hypoxic drive pushed aside her brain’s logic. Her physiology demanded oxygen and reflexively sought it; she could no longer control the signals coming from her brain. She opened her mout
h and tried to breath.
As she inhaled, cold, slimy water poured into the small creature of God, flooding her lungs and squeezing out the last traces of oxygen she needed to live. She flung herself left and right, body convulsing in terror, eyes straining to catch a final glimmer of light. Within a few seconds her sight faded to a red smear and her movements weakened. After a few more moments, her body went limp. With eyes still wide and questioning, she sank onto the dark muck of the bottom.
~ 13 ~
The demon peeled away from the relentless weapons’ fire. Though they couldn’t kill him, the necessary healings consumed energy and prevented him from immediately dealing with the intruders. As he flew at speed around the hall, the Crusaders temporarily lost track of him near the broken window; they dropped their empty guns and yanked grenades from their belts. Within seconds, Adramelech flew back down the hall towards them. They both pulled pins on their black, rock-like missiles and drew back their arms waiting for just the right moment.
Cardinal Malachi and Chief Superintendent Cruickshank stared in awe and revulsion at the sight of the demon in full flight.
Adramelech now recognized Malachi from information he had extracted from Gallo. So we finally meet, Prince of Rome, he thought, his powerful wings carrying him towards the tiny group. Payback time.
The grenades exploded almost simultaneously just in front of him sending multiple shards of steel into his body. He roared in anger, indignation and frustration, faltering in flight. He beseeched Satan for more strength. He had to deal with these heathen quickly and find the others with the Relic; it must be destroyed. Adramelech’s supplication was answered and a new power surged into him, a burst of strength and malice.
“Still coming,” Father Oberon said tersely, as the demon flew on towards them.
“Doesn’t look good,” Nathaniel agreed.
“Hate being bested by this asshole.”
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