On the wall opposite, a narrow crack ran all the way from top to bottom allowing murky yellow lamplight from the corridor beyond to seep through, but momentarily darkening as the thing moved past it and along to the doorway, just metres now from where Harker was crouching.
As the beast came into view, he now got his first proper sight of it and found himself tensing in terror as its features were revealed under the dim light of the flickering wall lamps. It stood close to seven feet tall but with those long horns protruding from its skull it must have cleared easily over eight. There was no visible neck, and the bull’s head, endowed with a protruding black snout, rested upon muscular shoulders attached to thick arms that would have made a professional wrestler jealous. The white-skinned torso, although taut and muscular, was covered in healed scars, all of them short but jagged. A pair of sturdy legs added to the sense of an impenetrable mass of flesh that could only be described as a human tank.
The deep and heavy breathing emerging from those large black nostrils was intimidating in itself and, as it turned to poke its lumbering head into the room, Harker held his own breath and remained absolutely motionless as he crouched in the dark shadows at the lower base of the wall.
One of the widespread horns briefly caught on the inner doorframe, scraping along it to leave a deep scratch mark. And as its black eyes surveyed the interior of the room, Harker did something that seemed cowardly and pointless. He closed his eyes.
To most this reaction would be considered the response of a terrified person but, even though he was, it was not the reason Harker did so. Over millennia the vision of human beings has evolved to detect a hidden face staring at them, because the most efficient way to evade a predator is to know when it has you in its sights. It is truly a sixth sense that most people possess because when you have that feeling someone is watching you, then most of the time you’re probably correct. This thing may not have been human – and truthfully Harker had no idea what it was – but as he sat there hunched in the darkest shadows of the room, he was not about to put that to the test. So he remained still, with his eyes closed, but with his ears working overtime. The moment he heard the creature begin to approach him, he intended to leap back out the doorway he had entered and race back upstairs… and from there who knew what, but regardless that was his plan.
The heavy breathing continued and soon he found himself in need of air. He was just considering attempting to take a breath, when he heard the thing shifting its weight and heading back down the corridor.
Harker opened his eyes and, without losing a moment, stood up and quietly slipped off both his shoes, clutching them in one hand as he approached the doorway, just in time to see the lumbering beast enter another room further along the corridor – and that was when he saw them more clearly. Those massive feet on which it plodded along, but it wasn’t the size of them that transfixed him but their shape. They were giant hooves!
He pulled back from the doorway and now backtracked to the first room where he began to search for the knife again.
This time he spotted it straight away lying near the far wall. Carefully picking it up, he crept back into the corridor, and was planning to return upstairs to the first floor when something in the room directly opposite caught his eye.
At first glance he thought it was a human body but as he edged closer he realised he was looking at a puppet, or rather an effigy, with black buttons for eyes and thick black string crudely sewn into the face to create a smiling mouth and a nose. The simple white, stained dress it wore suggested it was meant to be female, and at five feet in height, stuffed with straw, it was yet another creepy addition to this place’s damp and disturbing décor. The doll had been propped up in a sitting position on a torn bale of hay that could only be described as a makeshift bed, with a deep impression in the middle where someone had been sleeping.
‘Shit.’ he muttered, not just because he now realised he was in that creature’s personal bedroom but he had also noticed the bloody carcass of a pig that had been savagely ripped apart and, as he examined it closer, he could make out the bite marks on one of the animal’s legs.
The foul sight had Harker retching and, with a hand over his mouth, he now turned his attention to a narrow opening in the wall where surrounding brickwork gave way to solid cement further in. Upon closer inspection he found himself staring along a tight shaft no more than half a metre wide, and with some light only just visible at the far end. With no other options available to him, and realising this vicious game of cat-and-mouse was only going to end one way, he made the decision, put his shoes back on, and thrust himself head first into the cramped tunnel.
It was a tight fit but just wide enough to allow him to crawl through and, although moss-ridden and slimy, it actually felt good to be protected by walls on all sides, and he was already a few feet in and enjoying a sense of relief when a hand grabbed his ankle firmly and began to tug.
Harker looked back to see the creature down on all fours, staring at him as it tried to drag its unexpected visitor back towards it. It let out a piercing bellow and continued to tug wildly. Terror now turned into uncontrollable anger, and Harker succumbed to it and began kicking out at the thing’s face and groping hand. He still had the knife but the passage was so tight there was no way he could sit up straight, let alone reach back to the creature, so instead he rhythmically dispensed kick after kick until he landed the heel of one shoe squarely on the creature’s fingers.
It let out a deep yelp, immediately releasing its grasp, whereupon Harker immediately scuffled further inside, as quickly as he could, in response to the heavy dose of adrenalin just injected into his system.
The creature was now groaning, one arm outstretched towards him like a child wanting its plaything, as Harker continued pushing frantically along the shaft until finally the beast went silent and disappeared from the opening, doubtless shuffling off to another part of the strange building.
It was then Harker realised that it was probably racing towards where the shaft would open out, and he briefly considered returning to the bedroom – but the half-consumed pig and that creepy puppet convinced him to persevere, pushing forward with all the strength he possessed.
The uncomfortable journey took him no more than thirty seconds and once he reached the opening he warily peered out. Once sure he was alone he tumbled out onto the floor, then jumped to his feet with his knife drawn ready to defend himself.
This new environment looked like a war zone, for it was nothing more than a large open space enclosed by thick crumbling stone walls that in some places had collapsed completely. It reminded him of nothing less than a maze that had long passed its sell-by date and was left to just deteriorate over time. Wisps of dust fell from the wooden ceiling above as he cautiously made his way through this ruin, each step becoming less confident than the last because he had absolutely no idea where he was going.
On an outer wall to the right of him, crumbling plaster allowed thin shards of light to permeate the gloom, thus lighting up particles of dust into shiny sparkles as if offering a brief moment of welcome in this otherwise dismal place.
Pressing forward with trembling muscles, Harker forced his legs back into action, against an overall urge to turn around and return to the safety of the shaft, which was a crazy idea but one brought about by how vulnerable he felt. ‘Keep going, Alex. Let’s see where this leads,’ he muttered to himself as the stench of decay invaded his mouth and throat with each shallow and shaky breath he took. Was this place even linked to the same underground residence he had been in earlier?
Harker gripped the hunting knife in his right hand, glancing down at its tiny little blade that glinted briefly in the strips of light coming through the cracks in the wall and he suddenly noticed the unique shape of its bone handle, which caused him to stop. It was smooth and shaped to fit one’s hand but halfway up it a small circle had been engraved onto it, no bigger than a thumbnail. As Harker rubbed this with his finger it dawned on him that it
was in fact a release button of some kind, so he carefully pressed it inwards with his forefinger.
A piece of metal flicked out from one side of the handle, like a springing tool from a Swiss Army penknife, and then clicked itself into place. It was a key.
As Harker mulled over its purpose, it became clear what was going on here, even if he didn’t yet understand why. This was a test. For whatever reason, his being dropped into this nasty little underworld was a test, and he was being given the opportunity to pass it. The key must open a door somewhere and they, the cult of Mithras, were giving him a chance. Either that or a sadistic desire to taunt him with false hope – which seemed far more likely.
Harker clenched the knife firmly in his hand and gritted his teeth. Who, in god’s name, were these people and what was this sick little ceremony of theirs? More importantly, what the hell was that infernal creature… could it be an actual demon? Like the one he had seen in his vision? A demon held captive here on earth?
The sheer craziness of these questions was making his head hurt and he clutched the blade and dismissed such otherworldly thoughts. He needed to focus instead on getting out of here – and finding Stefani. Everything else was of secondary importance, and with this in mind he continued to make his way through the dark, forbidding ruins.
Many of the surrounding walls looked like a demolishing team had been let loose with a number of them partially knocked down, allowing a view into a number of dilapidated areas. Brown-stained floral wallpaper dangled lifelessly on all sides, having peeled back over time, and the floors were strewn with every kind of filth from blackened wall plaster to piles of crumbling bricks.
Continuing to survey this squalor, he found himself being drawn towards a heap of dirty grey sticks lying off to the side. And as he squinted in an effort to inspect them further, a cold chill ran right though him. This pile of bones still had shreds of rotting meat hanging off them, and he pulled back sharply in revulsion only to catch his head on a piece of wood jutting from the nearby wall. With a loud crack, the piece of dry timber snapped under the impact, dropping to the floor with a hollow thud. And as Harker massaged the bump now forming on the back of his skull, he froze on catching sight of something moving up ahead.
As the sound of heavy shuffling began to move closer, he now stepped backwards away from the sounds, carefully judging each step so as not to catch a foot in any of the rubble. He crept silently over to another damaged section of the nearby wall, which allowed him a narrow view in the direction of the noises, then huddled up against it as whatever was approaching him got ever closer.
The bull-horned creature came to a stop a few metres away and within Harker’s line of sight. Then it raised its bulging head and with its snout began to sniff the air. With each intake of air came a scratchy grunting noise and after the second sniff it lowered its head before turning around and heading back the way it had come and out of sight.
Harker remained still, choosing to stay where he was and listen for any signs of movement, but he couldn’t detect any and, as he waited, he began to formulate a plan. Firstly, he realised, there was no way he could take this brute on face to face because it was just too big and, secondly, if it was indeed a demon then who knew what it might be capable of.
The very thought of such an unearthly creature had him shaking his head disapprovingly because the very notion was just ridiculous to his mind, and yet here he was being hunted by a creature with a bull’s head and hooves. The rational side of him screamed bloody murder at any willingness to even entertain such a possibility, but he pushed such internal conflict to one side and focused instead on what needed to be done. He obviously had to kill it or else it was certainly going to kill him but, with nothing more than a small hunting knife, was it even feasible? Sure, if he had been Special Forces trained then maybe, but he was an archaeology professor, for Christ’s sake!
This last thought suddenly calmed him and he felt an intense feeling of courage and determination. For he wasn’t just a professor any more; he was a Templar, and this was far from being his first time in a dangerous situation. Certainly, he had never been up against a real-life demon, with horns and the full power of hell behind it, but, hey, there was a first time for everything.
He was still bolstering his courage with unrealistic reasoning when the strong smell of something unpleasant assaulted his nostrils and he looked behind him just as an oversized hand grabbed him by the throat and pulled him to his feet.
Harker stared into the bull creature’s black eyes as it tightened its grip around his neck. The foul stench of rotting meat exuded from its nostrils, making him gag as he was lifted off the ground and held in mid-air. The physical strength of this beast was incredible and, as Harker struggled to breathe, he reacted the only way he could and began stabbing his tiny blade repeatedly into the creature’s side. The first two jabs achieved nothing but the third slid past one of its ribs, whereupon it dropped Harker to the floor as it bent forwards to rub at the wound with a loud grunt.
With no time to spare Harker dragged himself to his feet and, in an act of frankly useless defiance, stood his ground with the bloody knife in one hand. But, as he watched the creature still bent over in pain, an idea came to him. It wasn’t a great idea but at this point that hardly mattered. He jumped to the other side of a crumbling wall right next to the creature, pressed his whole body against it and continued pushing with everything he had.
The eight-foot high partition toppled over and collapsed onto the wounded beast, sending it to the floor underneath a pile of bricks and amid a flurry of dust. Harker grabbed the nearest brick and straddled the creature with it held high above his head, before he brought it down hard on the creature’s snout.
There were many things Harker was expecting after such a blow but what actually happened was not one of them. He watched in disbelief as the snout crumpled inwards leaving a minor dent in the bull’s face. Its eyes rolled and eyelashes fluttered, and Harker now noticed the flap where the edge of the bull’s head met its shoulders. This he warily lifted up to uncover a metal collar with a steel padlock to secure the whole construction in place. The whole thing was unbelievably lifelike and had clearly been fashioned out of a genuine bull’s head with expertly cut eyeholes that offered the illusion that the wearer’s eyes were part of it. In the dim light of this place one would have had to get within a few feet to realise that it was only a head mask and not the creature Harker had taken it for.
He dropped the brick to one side and scanned the ground for the hunting knife, which he swiftly retrieved and then scrambled back over to the creature as it began to revive. He switched the knife around and, as he had already guessed, the key slipped into the padlock with ease and opened it. Then with both hands, one either side of the creature’s head, he yanked it off.
The sight that greeted him was disturbing and, even though his muscles ached and his body was still surging with adrenalin, that evaporated in a single moment as he now understood what the puppet had been for. In its place he felt a feeling of tremendous pity and of hatred for whoever had done this.
The childlike features of a mentally impaired boy stared back at him, and offered a tentative smile through the few rotting teeth he had left. By the look of his white patchy skin, all covered in sores, it was clear he had not experienced sunlight on his flesh in a very long time.
Harker smiled back, touching the boy’s face lightly, and felt suddenly overcome at what he was seeing. Hastily he pushed some of the heavy bricks off the boy’s chest, sending them to the floor with a clatter. This man-child was no more a monster than he himself was, and Harker could only imagine the torment he had experienced. Judging by the state of his body he had been trapped down here a long time, maybe even years, with only a dirty cloth puppet for company. He turned back to the boy’s hooved feet to see nothing more than clumpy shoes, made of leather, and stitched into the shape of hooves which must have been uncomfortable to say the least. What kind of sicko could have inflicted
such an awful life on another human being, let alone one so vulnerable.
Suddenly to his left, came the sound of rumbling as a section of the wooden wall fell away and a clean, bright light flooded the gloomy interior. Harker stumbled to his feet and held a hand up to his eyes as the figure in front of him loomed into shape. At first everything looked fuzzy but, as his vision adjusted, he began to make out a person’s features and, even though nothing made sense at this moment, he recognised them.
‘Shit.’
Chapter 32
‘That’s what you said last time,’ David Carter replied angrily, gripping the telephone ever more tightly as he shook his head.
‘I’m sorry, David, but I’ve passed on all your messages and I’m sure he’ll be in contact with you the moment he can.’
During the past three hours Carter had left no fewer than eight messages for Sebastian Brulet to give him a call and so far, he had heard nothing. He had of course stressed the extreme importance of speaking with the Grand Master, but was not prepared to reveal the exact nature of his request because he was still unsure how confidential the Mithras information was. If there was genuine secrecy surrounding their very existence – and thus the Templars also – then the only responsible thing for him to do was confer with Sebastian, but this was all taking much too long. And furthermore, there had still been no contact from Harker.
‘Can you please get hold of him and tell him I’ve found something in the archives that could be of serious concern, and he’s the only one who can decide it. Lives are at stake here, man!’
This last part was not true, so far as Carter knew, but perhaps it might speed up a reply and therefore he was willing to take that gamble.
‘You have my word, I’ll keep trying,’ the Templar underling replied respectfully. ‘But if he’s not picking up his messages, what can I do? The last thing I heard, he was in the air, so maybe that could be the problem. Is there anyone else who can help you?’
The Dark Temple Page 26