Fortunately, the Hunting Horrors had suffered a similar fate. They had visited many painful atrocities upon him during their time of mutual imprisonment, but they had soon come to realize that their only hope of freedom might lay within the actions of the madman. Because of this they had not refused Ezra’s command when he’d bidden them to seek Zak out. Their success in ‘befriending’ him, and showing him the ways of his newfound power, had been invaluable.
Grunting in satisfaction, he finally found what he was looking for amongst the soot covered bones that were all that remained of his other, once fleshy form. Settling back on slender haunches, he lifted the pulsating blade free, blowing the ash from its shimmering surface. Then, surging to his feet, he raised the knife on high. The thunderous response of the Children was tremendous, causing him to swell with self-importance at their eager expectancy. With renewed purpose, he made his way back to the altar.
This night would be the culmination of all the Cult of the Messenger had planned from the start, an end to the ritual that had hung in the balance for over a century. Tonight, he would summon the Mighty Messenger of the Outer Gods, the great Nathrotep. The words of power were his, as was the blade, the Hunting Horrors, and the teeming Children of the Graves. They would all lend their voices, adding more than enough power to his appeal. Tonight, the doors of the monstrous cataract would be flung wide, allowing the soul and herald of the mighty outer deities to come down from the stars to mock and rejoice at his humble, living sacrifice.
Raw energy coursed through him as he stared down at the struggling young woman chained to the pitted stone. That had been another result of his bold ingenuity; the summoning of his daughter’s closest friends. He’d known they would come; he had gotten the information from the mind of the lad he’d used to transport Robin’s unconscious body through the tunnels. And he had desperately needed those friends to seal his bargains with the other various minions now under his control. Bending over the whimpering girl, he shrugged away all further thoughts of the mortal realm. It was of no matter; soon the ritual would be complete, and Nathrotep would be free to prepare the world for the dominion of the elder gods.
None could hope to stop him now.
Reaching down, he ran one slim, feminine hand up the bare leg of the quivering sacrifice, moving along the inner thigh and thrilling to the feel of smooth, silky flesh beneath his own. Yes, she would make the perfect offering; so soft, so sweet. Surely the earth would tremble this night, and, as he marshaled himself for the powerful climax of the ancient spell, the maddened look in his eyes bespoke an ageless power.
15
The beam of the remaining flashlight cut a thin path through the shadows, painting the boxes and crates in a dim, yellow glow. Terry knew they’d been lucky enough to find the entrance to the basement right beneath the stairwell and, now that they were safe behind its heavy oaken timbers, she was breathing a little easier. It would be a good long time before anything could break through that stout barrier. But as they reached the bottom of the basement staircase, she was left wondering why they’d needed such an imposing door there in the first place.
Shrugging away the useless speculation, she focused on the task at hand. The chanting had stopped, fading away until it was no longer audible. The lack of it would make finding the tunnels more challenging, but her gut instinct told her that they would somehow uncover its hidden location. She only hoped that Williams could hold it together that long; he’d been acting strangely since they’d left the upper levels and it worried her.
“Doc?” she asked, “are you doing okay?”
“I’m fine,” he replied, pushing his glasses up. “Let’s just keep moving.”
She narrowed her eyes as he strode past her. He wasn’t fooling anyone; the shotgun was wavering in his hands and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead even in the cold, dank air. There was something going on with him, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and she really didn’t know what to make of it. Shaking her head in annoyance, she continued forward without further comment.
There was a lot she’d learned about the supernatural in college, but what was going on here went far beyond her range of studies. She was beginning to think they wouldn’t be able to handle whatever they found beneath this accursed place. If the things they’d seen so far were any indication of what to expect, then they were in a lot of trouble. She prayed that the relics they’d gotten from Jarrod would give them some kind of an edge, but she couldn’t begin to fathom what the strange items were meant for. The wand was obviously some kind of juju fetish, but the Elder Sign was still a complete mystery to her. The realization that she’d have to do whatever it took just to survive down here terrified her. Pushing the unsettling thoughts to the back of her mind, she followed Williams deeper into the darkness.
While the first chambers were little more than storage, they soon found themselves in a much larger room. Long sheets of spider silk flowed down from the ceiling arches and it was filled with endless piles of junk and bulky furniture. As they made their way across, she could tell that some of the objects had been recently shifted; the marks on the floor were quite apparent and many of the items were no longer coated in thick layers of dust. But it was Williams who first spotted the footprints.
“What do you make of these?” he asked, kneeling down to take a closer look.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “They look kinda like tennis shoes. I just don’t – Wait! Teenagers, maybe, judging by the size of them. Oh my God! What if there are more kids down here?”
Running his hand along the length of a print, he considered it a moment before turning back to reply. Then he paused, eyes going wide as they locked onto something just behind her. As she watched on in growing concern, all the color drained from his face.
Pivoting, she shined the light in the direction of his paralyzed stare. Not ten feet away stood a man shrouded in luminescent mist. A reddish glow suffused his filthy, bearded features, and his tattered, black robes were covered in layers of grime. As she gazed at him in surprise, he muttered something under his breath and then flung up both his arms, fists clenched tightly around a sudden storm of crackling energy. Snapping them back down, he uttered a single, sharp syllable, “Shokk!”
Yet even as the unclean power blazed forth in a repellent wave, a blast from the shotgun took him in the chest, throwing him back onto an antique table. It shattered under his weight and he went down in a cascade of blood and fizzling, unspent potency. Stunned by the backlash of the spell washing over them, Terry collapsed to the ground, choking on bile. The sensation was like a million tiny hands raking slimy fingernails across her skin, poking and prodding at her with hate-filled intent. If the malignant force would have hit them full on, she knew they’d be mindless husks by now, cowering and convulsing along the floor. It made her shudder all the more as she fought back against her ebbing tide of revulsion. As she struggled to regain control, she saw that Williams was still kneeling, the shotgun propped against his hip. Taking a long, steadying breath, he turned to her.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “I... I think so. That must be... must be one of the cultists. I think you got him before he could finish...”
At a loss for words, she rocked back and forth, trying desperately to rid herself of the unclean feelings. With what must have been a monumental effort on his part, Williams got to his feet, pulling her up beside him.
“From now on, we stick close together,” he said. “I’ll take the lead, but you stay right behind me, okay?”
“All right,” she managed, bending to gather up the flashlight.
Pumping another round into the chamber, he advanced toward the spot where the cultist had fallen. Terry followed, still shaking as she tried to illuminate the spot for him in the light of the unsteady beam.
As they drew nearer, they almost gagged on the foul stench rising up from the crumpled pile. It was overpowering, permeating the air with na
useating strength. Kicking aside an old chair that was in his path, Williams gazed down at the reeking corpse. It was beyond grotesque, sprawled out across the floor with one leg held upright by a piece of broken table and the other one bent back at an unnatural angle. A thin curl of smoke rose in a lazy spiral from the hole in the center of its chest. It was not a pretty sight. Without studying it further, they backed away in disgust, then worked themselves around the tangle of furniture to continue on their way beyond it. In the direction from which the cultist had appeared, all they could see was more useless junk extending back to the far wall.
“Are you sure he’s dead?” Terry asked in a small voice.
“I’m sure,” he stated quietly.
“Well,” she replied, clearing her throat, “over there, toward the back of the room; that’s where he must have come from –”
“Terry,” he cut in, “take the spool of twine out of my pack.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it! We need something to secure that flashlight; I don’t like the way we seem to keep dropping it.”
“Okay, okay, I got it,” she flared. “You know, it’s not easy keeping the gun steady and holding the flashlight at the same time! Especially with this wand taped to it!”
Tucking the sidearm into her belt, she proceeded to fish out the twine, and then cut off a long piece of it with her pocketknife. The momentary burst of anger faded as she worked, leaving her feeling contrite and somewhat ashamed.
“I’m sorry – It’s just this place; it’s really getting to me,” she told him. Then, as the reality of what had just happened started to sink in, she blurted, “What if... what if we don’t make it? What if... oh, what the hell are we even doing here? Maybe we should have just called the police and let them handle it.”
Turning, he gripped her by the shoulder, shaking it a little. “We’ve got to find out what’s going on here and put an end to it,” he said, “You know that the cops would never believe us if we told them. And even if we did somehow get them to come down here, it’d all be over before we got back. I can feel the artifact pulsing at my neck. It’s reacting to whatever’s happening in those tunnels and it wants us to go down there. Besides, we’d have to fight our way back past all those things upstairs if we left now. Our only chance to get out of this alive is to follow it through to the end.”
As he let that hang in the air, Terry realized that he was right. He was babbling a bit, but all-in-all he was correct. They had to go on, had to at least try to break up whatever ritual was being performed. Perhaps the tunnels themselves would lead them to another exit; there had to be more than one way out of this place. Kneeling briefly, she tied the flashlight’s utility loop to her wrist. Now, in case of any other surprises, it would dangle there, ready to be swung back up into her hand. He watched her, pupils round in the uncertain light.
Nodding to show that she was ready, she followed him as he headed toward the back of the room. While moving through the piles of random junk, she noticed that a lot of the larger objects were set up in a crude sort of maze. It made her think of the footprints they’d found, and of the young man hanging in pieces above them in the attic. Shuddering, she hoped that whomever had set up this maze hadn’t suffered a similar fate. The thought was still troubling her as they approached the far wall. Upon reaching it, they found nothing but a pile of stacked saw horses, a few bolts of rotted cloth, and an antique wardrobe.
Placing a finger to his lips, Williams nodded toward the wardrobe, and Terry could see that its door was slightly ajar. Before she could speak, Williams pointed to the door, then to himself, motioning for her to back away and cover him. He waited for her to get into position, then kicked the door hard over on rusty hinges.
Terry screamed as something fell on her from above, causing her to careen backward into some crates as its cold, wet arms wrapped tightly around her. Thrashing about, furniture and other items came crashing down as she fought against the unknown assailant. Williams jumped forward, attempting to see what was happening, but the flashlight spun on its new tether, sending fluttering shadows flickering all around them. In helpless frustration, he knelt and grabbed at the substance that entangled her face and arms. It felt horrid, like the slimy strands of a decaying jellyfish. Releasing the disgusting tendrils, he instead grabbed the flashlight from out of mid-air as it whizzed past him, shining its light fully upon her.
Then he burst out laughing.
Terry was so shocked, she stopped her fearful thrashing. Peering down, she saw that she was covered in what appeared to be clothesline tied into a web. It was doused with something purple and wet, like the gooey stuff she’d seen on Saturday morning television, and it had fake bugs tied all through it.
“There was someone else in here all right,” Williams chuckled, directing the light into the closet to reveal a shelf containing a 1954 license plate. A smirk was twitching at the corners of his mouth as he glanced up. “Looks like it was rigged to fall from the ceiling.”
She glared at him in mock indignation, then exploded into a fit of nervous giggling. Grinning, he assisted her to her feet, untangling the man-made web and throwing it to the floor. So great was her relief that she felt giddy and then quite foolish.
“Well, they sure pulled one over on us,” she said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Ugh! It’s all in my hair! I must look terrible.”
“You never look terrible,” he replied with sincerity.
She paused a moment, transfixed by his penetrating stare. Gazing back into the depths of his eyes, she realized that there was something there, something warm and utterly surprising, and she was amazed to find herself responding to it. As she was taking stock of this newfound emotion, he reached up and gently brushed a strand of purple slime from her cheek.
“You know, you look good in purple,” he murmured.
Before she could formulate a cohesive response, the wardrobe jolted forward, smashing into them and forcing them apart. Her cries reverberated throughout the room as something small and yammering flew out of the darkness to attach itself to her face.
Shoving the wardrobe out of the way, Williams leapt past it with no thought for his own safety. The thing on her head was an evil blur of thrashing limbs and biting teeth, filling the air with high-pitched squeaks and mewling sounds. Growling like a madman, he swung the butt of the shotgun around, trying to knock it away from her, but before the blow could even connect, he was yanked backward off his feet. The shotgun clattered to the floor as he grasped at the sinewy fingers now digging into his windpipe.
“Zaaaa... kkkk...”
The harsh, rasping statement was like a thunderclap above the noise of the struggle. With all her might, Terry battled her attacker as Williams was pulled back and pinioned against the wall. Adrenalized by fear and incredible pain, Terry flailed at the small creature, but still could not seem to rid herself of the horrible thing. She could hear Williams wailing over her own cries as she felt herself spiraling ever closer to the edges of madness.
“Barbara, my love!” A chilling voice suddenly called out from the darkness. “What a fine catch you have there. And, my son! What a good boy you are to help us subdue that nasty lady...”
Heaving in further panic, Terry caught sight of the speaker. She could barely believe her eyes, but there was no doubt that this was the cultist that they’d just shot. While struggling to free herself from the child-thing’s brutal attack, she could see him outlined in the reddish glow surrounding his hellish body. He was oozing blood, but otherwise seemed very much alive.
“So!” the man crowed, “you have now met my family! Aren’t they wonderful? Barbara, where are your manners? Give the young gentleman a kiss! He is our very special guest this evening. And, by the way, dear – then rip his fucking head off!”
As the bony hands of the creature flipped Williams around, Terry caught a glimpse of it while she continued to fight the thing that was still tearing away at her. It was the corpse of a young woman, far g
one in decay. With brutal strength, its skeletal hands pulled Williams into a repulsive embrace, rotted lips pressing tightly against his own. Retching, he fell back against the wall as it then seized him by the neck and began to twist. He was no longer even attempting to fight back.
Witnessing that, Terry’s vision clouded over in a red haze. Something inside of her snapped, and she was overcome by white-hot rage.
The handgun came up from her belt, and she blasted the yammering demon child from her face in a splatter of rotted debris. Surging up from the broken furniture, she got one knee under her, and then planted three more rounds into the cultist without even aiming. The high caliber bullets tore him in half as he flew backward into some crates. Without pausing, she pivoted, emptying the rest of the clip into the creature that was holding Williams by the neck. He slid farther down the wall as the thing’s head exploded, showering him with thick, greenish-brown slime.
“That will be quite enough of that, I think,” Terry said, breathing hard as she got her feet under her and then staggered over to Williams.
“Flashlight... check to see...” he gasped, wobbling a bit as she helped him to stand upright.
Flipping the swinging light back into her hand, she scanned their surroundings.
“Yep,” she observed. “I got ’em, Doc. I... I killed them all...”
Slumping back against the wall, they slid to the ground together, huddling in shock as she continued to shine the light around them in trembling, irregular arcs. As the beam flashed across the chipped plaster of the wall next to them, she brought it to an unsteady halt – there was a hole where the wardrobe had been. A large hole.
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