She was right. It swooped by overhead once more, revealing a milky white underside, before returning to its roost on the roof. The next time I looked it was just another blob on the skyline.
Dunlop took me aside and whispered sternly in my ear.
“You must control yourself. No matter what you see, or what you hear, you must keep quiet. I will tell you if there is anything to get really worried about. Okay?”
I nodded, feeling stupid and ashamed, and fell in behind them as they started moving again.
I found that if I looked out of the corner of my eye I could see the aura around me. Unlike the others, mine was green, a faint olive green that shimmered and swirled like cigarette smoke in a still room. I was so intent on watching this that I almost walked into the back of the others when they stopped.
Fiona put her hand to her lips, but she needn’t have bothered—I had learned my lesson. We stood there for several seconds before I heard what had stopped them.
It came from the sea on the left-hand side, a slithering of a heavy body; the scrape as it pulled itself over the rocks on the shore. As the noise got closer I could hear something else, the rhythmic rasping of something large breathing.
Dunlop wrestled with his backpack, trying to unravel one of the straps that seemed to have got tangled at his left shoulder. He was still struggling when the thing pulled itself up onto the causeway, blocking our way to the house.
Think of a seal, then blow it up to the size of a bus. Give it a bright red weeping sore of a mouth big enough to swallow a man whole and add tiny red eyes. Then add the smell.
Its odor wafted over us and made us choke. Dunlop still hadn’t got his backpack off, and as I moved forward to help him Fiona went to meet the beast.
It reared up above her, at least eight feet off the ground, towering over her slight form, the tiny red eyes staring down at her. I looked closely into those eyes, but there was no sign of intelligence, only a blind, unquestioning rage. That didn’t bother Fiona. She strode forward until she was no more than three feet from the creature.
I almost screamed again, but a sharp look from Dunlop soon put paid to that. He still struggled with his backpack, but he didn’t seem too concerned about his wife.
I started to move anyway, but before I had gone two yards Fiona took matters into her own hands.
She started singing, a cool, high melody, as sad as a bagpipe lament—but much more tuneful. Her aura pulsed, first deeper blue, then back to turquoise, swirling and drifting as if caught by a wind. The beast writhed in a sudden spasm, leaving strips of skin on the road surface beneath it, and the stench got worse, forcing me to gag violently. Fiona’s singing got louder and her aura grew and flowed faster, growing apace with the rhythm of the song, encompassing the creature in a swirling sea of rainbow colors.
A series of spasms hit the creature and it thrashed and curled like a worm on a pin. It mewled like a lost kitten, then began to diminish. There was something wrong with my sense of perspective—it seemed to be receding away from me, but I could see that it still sat on the ground in front of Fiona. It got smaller until it was no larger than a small puppy.
It gave one final squeal, a pitiful cry of longing, before it was gone, leaving only a gray smear on the causeway.
Fiona turned back to us, just as Dunlop managed to get his backpack off. Her aura was stronger now, a deeper, richer blue with threads of gold dancing and swirling within it. But even as she spoke I could see it fading back to its previous color.
“It’s a bit late now, Arthur “ she said. “I don’t think your services will be required.” She sounded annoyed, but there was a large smile on her face.
“I thought I’d let you deal with it—it was only a small one “ Dunlop said, then they hugged each other and I could see tears in his eyes.
The embrace went on for longer than I would have liked, and after several seconds I had to cough discretely.
“I’m sorry, Derek “ Fiona said, prizing herself away from her husband. “It’s just that it’s a long time since we exercised our power—we weren’t sure if we would be strong enough.”
“What was it?” I asked, not really sure if I wanted to hear the answer.
“A creature from another dimension, called out of the outer regions to bar our way “ Dunlop answered. “And that wasn’t an illusion—you had something to worry about that time.”
“Thanks for the advance warning “ I muttered, not quite loud enough for him to hear. “So if it was that bad, why did you let Fiona deal with it?” I said.
“Because I have great faith in her power “ he replied. “But I can’t tell you any more without confusing you further.” He was right there, I was confused enough already.
“Anyway. I didn’t quite have this ready “ he said opening his backpack and removing a one- foot long piece of untrimmed wood. It was of some dark wood that I didn’t recognize, and it looked worn and polished with age and use. As soon as he touched it his aura deepened and the black threads all but disappeared. He looked five years younger.
“A wizard has to have a wand “ he said by way of explanation. “Everybody knows that.”
Everything had taken a comic edge and none of us seemed to be taking our situation seriously. Some form of demon had just attacked us, I had almost lost control of my bowels at the sight of a dragon, and here Dunlop was waving a bloody magic wand around.
What next? Sawing the woman in half?
“What is this—cabaret night?” I asked.
“Don’t worry “ Fiona replied. “I call it my hippie spell—it’s always laid back.” She burst into a fit of giggles, so girl-like and cute that Dunlop and I came out in sympathy.
“It helps us keep things at a distance, stops us from being overcome by fear “ she said when she had recovered enough to speak. “Haven’t you noticed its effect?”
“Yeah “ I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I don’t believe it’s working that well. I think I need a change of underwear.”
That started off the chortling again.
“Be like me, Derek “ Fiona said. “Don’t wear any—it saves on the laundry.”
Still giggling we made our way to the gate.
We approached it slowly, and I had plenty of time to study it closely. It was fifteen feet high, a network of black iron curled and twisted into demonic faces that leered obscenely at us as we faced it. Along the top of the gate were a series of tall spikes, gleaming razor sharp in the dim light. And on top of every spike there was a head. I had to look closely to make sure that they too were cast of the same black iron. The craftsman had been brilliant—the heads were perfect, the strands of hair each individually defined, the mouths gaping in throat-tearing screams, the eyes showing pure terror.
I moved first, stepping forward and touching the lock before the other two could stop me.
The first thing I felt was pain, deep, bone wrenching pain that surged through my body like an electric shock. I tried to take my hand off the gate but it seemed to be locked in place. My hand and the cold black iron were welded into one, the pain blasting its way through my nervous system. I felt as if I was being lit up from within in black, blazing radiance. I opened my mouth, preparing to scream, but nothing came out except a low, pained moan.
My aura grew, a crawling carpet of emerald green that flowed over the gate like an over- blanket, creeping and flowing, seeking out all the hidden corners in the metal.
As it hit them, the demonic faces began to come alive, dead metal turning to thick green, warty flesh, saliva-coated tongues lolling suggestively around thin-lipped, cruel mouths. The eyes were the worst, though—they glared at me, black, cat-eye pupils shining demonically, anticipating their release.
There was a sucking sound and the shriek of tearing metal. My hand suddenly fell away from the gate as if a circuit had been broken, and the pain left me, as suddenly as it had come.
I fell to the ground in surprise; just managing to get myself back up again as four cre
atures pulled themselves out of the gate. The gate swung open behind them, but I didn’t think we’d be going through it any time soon.
They were small, little more than three feet high, but they looked powerful, like small gorillas. Their backs were hunched so that their knuckles almost grazed the ground, reinforcing the impression of primates, but their skulls were high domes and intelligent. There was no sign of body hair, and they were completely naked, their gray skin glistening with oily sweat.
They all played with huge throbbing erections that were jutting out from their groins, organs that were much too big for the scale of their bodies. Panting with lust they made straight for Fiona.
I don’t believe I have ever seen anything so obscene. They continued playing with themselves as they moved forward, and their tongues slithered redly between their thin lips, saliva dripping down their chins. Dunlop was waving the wand about, muttering under his breath, but I didn’t wait.
I stepped forward and punted the nearest demon in the backside, lifting it a clear two feet off the ground. It made no sound, but it turned and was on me before I had time to react.
It climbed up my body like some crazed chimpanzee, and I found myself staring into a pair of burning eye sockets. Its tongue thrust out at me, and I couldn’t close my mouth in time. My throat filled with six inches of cold flesh that tickled the back of my throat as it forced its way deeper.
I wasn’t able to breathe and I felt hot vomit puddle in my stomach. I tried to prize the creature off but its grip was as strong as the iron from which it had come. Blackness crept in at the edges of my sight.
Biting down didn’t work—my teeth failed to make any impression—and the flesh burrowed ever deeper, heading for my stomach. I caught a movement over to my left and Dunlop moved into sight. He waved his arms and I was suddenly blinded by a white, flashbulb blast that left a bright yellow afterimage long after it had gone.
The thing in my arms melted and flowed, becoming suddenly fluid. My nose stung as an acrid gas began to boil from the liquefying flesh before it came apart completely, falling out of my arms in a soggy, dead mass. It had left its tongue behind, a heavy load of tissue that turned to jelly in my throat. Nausea hit me hard, forcing me to my knees where I gagged and choked, vomiting my stomach contents onto the path in one hot, steaming bundle.
When I stood I saw that the demons, if that is what they had been, had all been reduced to the same state—four puddles of protoplasm that bubbled and seethed but showed no signs of being able to reform.
“Homunculi “ Dunlop said as he helped me to my feet, as if that explained anything. Fiona stepped over two of the seething puddles, and the pools surged and boiled. From one a long tendril grew, larger and thicker, almost a foot long before falling back to the ground with a dull, liquid thud. I could see disgust on her face as she came towards us.
There was something different about her...something had changed. Maybe my encounter with the gate had scrambled my brains, but it took several seconds to realize what it was. Our auras had gone.
“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 glisteni
ng 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.
The Midnight Eye Files Collection Page 19