When he was done he drew down the jeans leg again. He looked at Melanie, the reason she hadn’t stirred at this was because she had passed out again. Joe sat on the bed next to her and took in the surroundings and his predicament.
He was sat amongst a treasure hoard with a stabbed girl and a trussed up, badly beaten psychopath. The remains of the two phones lay scattered about the floor. There would be no calling the police, no emails, no Facebook.
He looked at his watch. It was almost twelve thirty. If what Melanie had said about the townsfolk worshipping until four am was right then he had a three and half hour head start to get away from the town. Of course that was if he went alone. Even if Melanie could walk when she woke up how fast could she possibly travel in two to three feet of snow? He looked over to Billy Duggan. He lay quietly. He too may have passed out but he still managed to appear threatening.
A thought occurred to him. Peake used his phone to call Macgregor and Duggan when out of the town, so there was at least one other mobile. He walked over to Billy, carefully checked the knots that tied him without getting too close and then, satisfied, crouched next to him.
Billy must have sensed that Joe was near and smiled with his broken mouth but said nothing. He obviously hadn’t passed out. Joe began to search the pockets of his jacket. Finding nothing he patted down Billy’s trousers not wanting to put his hands in the pockets, the revulsion he felt was simply too much. Nothing was apparent. No phone, no keys or a wallet. It appeared that when in the town all this psycho needed was a knife.
Billy gurgled a little, it could have been one of his chuckles. He said something incomprehensible. Joe stood and shook his head. ‘Maniac.’ He said.
Melanie stirred. Joe marched over to her side. ‘Melanie!’ She took a deep breath and puffed it out. Her fingers wiped at her eyes.
‘God, how long have I been out?’ She said, Joe detecting a hint of panic in her voice.
‘Just a few minutes.’ He indicated her leg. ‘I bandaged you and I guess you blacked out.’
Melanie pushed herself up, wincing a little but not pausing. She then slowly swung her legs over the bed until she sat upright.
‘He doesn’t have a phone on him.’ Joe said
‘What?’ Melanie asked, a little vague.
‘The other phone, he doesn’t have it I searched him.’
‘No, he wouldn’t have it. Macgregor has the other one. Billy doesn’t agree with the modern stuff.’
She called over to Billy. ‘You’re a traditionalist aren’t you Billy Duggan?
Billy didn’t reply but once again issued a deep chuckle.
As Melanie slid off the bed and attempted to stand Joe held her, giving her support. She was strong, as strong as any person he had ever met. She had seemed to be unafraid of the murderous entity, now trussed up on the floor, when he held a knife to her throat. Whereas he was still nervous even with Billy secured.
‘Kill him.’ She had said. Without hesitation she had told Joe to ‘stick the knife in his head.’
Something nagged at Joe, deep at the back of his mind where he kept his doubts and fears, something was trying to talk to him. It was a sane and rational voice unlike the panicked shriek of his conscious. It told him to ‘be careful’, that he had to ‘take it easy’ with the girl. And he had.
Joe hadn’t told Melanie about the gun. It still lay inside his deep pocket, not loaded but still, a gun and the bullets were only another pocket away. He hadn’t pulled it on Billy because he hadn’t even thought about it. The pressure of the moment had been too great. He also didn’t want to shoot anyone. Not ever.
For now Melanie didn’t need to know about the gun. Billy was unaware of it too. Joe decided that this was the best state of affairs concerning it.
‘What are we going to do?’ He asked, almost like a child might. He was beginning to feel ashamed of his weakness.
‘We have to get out right now.’ Melanie said without hesitation. ‘We need to leave the Falls before my father is done at the Order house.’
‘There’s three feet of snow out there and that’s just on the road, you can’t walk through that.’
‘We can use your car, it should make it through.’ Melanie replied but Joe shook his head.
‘I don’t know Mel, it’s a tough car but that depth of snow...’
‘It’s that or we wait here for them to find us.’ She indicated Billy with a nod of her head ‘For them to let him loose, you would prefer that?
‘No.’ Joe said emphatically.
‘There is still a problem though, even if the car can get through the snow. We can’t get out of the town without a sigil.’
‘A sigil?’ Joe asked.
‘It’s a like a key or a pass, without it there is no way to find a way in or way out of the Falls.’ Melanie began to limp over towards Billy. Joe supported her and was happy that at least he was strong enough to easily carry her weight.
‘Mel, I’m not sure what you mean, what key?’ He asked.
Melanie stopped moving. She looked at Joe, ‘How did you find this place Joe?’
‘I Googled it.’ He said. Melanie stared back at him with her ‘what the fuck are you talking about’ look.
‘A map, an old map. I found one with the Falls on it.’ He said.
‘And it brought you straight here?’ She asked
‘Yeah, well no it wasn’t easy to find I spent a couple of days taking the wrong turnings on these roads and...’
‘So you couldn’t find it with your map? Melanie said sharply.
‘Well...no but I was going the wrong...’ Joe started
‘So how did you really find Winter Falls Joe? She repeated.
Joe thought for a moment trying to see where she might be going with this then explained to her the first time he received instructions on how to get to the Falls. ‘Your father gave me directions.’
‘Gave them to you?’ Melanie asked
‘He sent a letter...and a list of landmarks.’ Joe replied.
Melanie nodded. ‘Yeah I’ll bet he did.’ She said. ‘Anything odd about that letter, any symbols or odd words?’
Joe remembered the two lines with the spiral, the reddish brown colour of it.
‘There was a picture or icon of some kind, on both pages.’ He said.
Melanie nodded again, slowly. ‘He was very keen to make sure you brought at least one of those pages with you, yes?’
Joe felt as though he was being reprimanded as a schoolboy would for not knowing the answer on the blackboard. He cast his mind back to the letter.
‘He told me to hand over the letter at the Police Station...to introduce myself.’
‘The thing on the page Joe, it was ward, a sigil, just think of it as a key that unlocks the door to this place.’
‘I still don’t follow.’ Joe said.
Melanie sighed and shook her head. She moved her leg a little to adjust the weight on it.
‘Joe we haven’t got time to go through all this and I don’t know how much you are prepared to accept even now, but this is not a normal place.’
‘No shit.’ Joe said.
‘I mean it’s not just different from other places because of people like Billy Duggan or the Order, or Henry. This town is protected Joe. From you, from the outside world. Without the letter that my father sent you would have never found Winter Falls.’ Melanie looked into Joes eyes and cupped her hands on each side of his face. Joe held her close to maintain his support of her.
‘The rituals that are performed here, that body near the Falls, it isn’t just an offering to our Gods, it has significance and purpose in the real world.’ Her hands closed tighter on Joes face and she moved her face in towards him.
‘Our Gods move upon the face of the Earth. They are not impotent like the Christian God, their actions are tangible and their threat is real.’
‘Our Gods.’ The words spun in Joes mind as Melanie spoke and the small calm voice at the back of his fear said, ‘be careful’ once again.
‘My father placed a ward on the town. It took him ten years to perform the ritual and so many offerings that Macgregor was rarely seen in the Falls for most of that period. It’s a powerful spell Joe. Without the correct sigil, the correct key, no one gets in and no one gets out.’
Joe looked into Melanie’s eyes for even the slightest sign of hysteria or panic, but there was nothing. Only a calm and determined woman who had more control over this situation than he did.
‘Melanie I...’ Joe couldn’t finish the words. He was lost now, the boundary of a natural and physical fear had been broken and he found himself utterly out of his depth.
Psychopaths and weird cults were on his radar, they were tangible threats although they lurked only at the periphery of his thoughts, alongside nuclear war and Al Qaida. Magic and spells were for the realm of Harry Potter and Gandalf, it was for fairy stories and Hollywood CGI extravaganzas.
Melanie let her hands slip from his face. Joe could see the frustration lining her expression.
‘Check his forearm.’ she said bluntly.
Obediently Joe walked to Billy and once again crouched near to him. He pulled Billy over a little to get at his arms. Billy grunted, ‘All over ...or you soon laddie.’ he giggled.
Joe pulled up the sleeve of Billy’s right arm, there was nothing but pale skin.
‘The other arm,’ Melanie said. ‘Always the left.’
Joe hauled Billy onto his stomach. He pulled back the second sleeve and there, in great detail and stretching the full length of the inside of Billy’s forearm was a tattoo, was the symbol he had seen on Peake’s letter.
‘Look familiar?’ Melanie asked.
‘That’s it.’ Joe said. ‘That’s what was on the letter.’
He could see that the spiral was a snake of some kind, a twisting serpent that writhed around two pillars. Runes featured at the top and bottom of each one.
‘Macgregor has one too, and my father of course. One or two of the men who can handle the outside world are trusted with it, they fetch supplies in to the town.’ Melanie said as she limped towards Joe.
‘Without that mark we don’t go anywhere, you can choose to believe it or not Joe, it’s up to you but you should know that any idea you might come up with, that doesn’t involve having that symbol with us means we are going to die.’
‘Okay, alright well that’s fine, if that’s what you think we need we will take one with us. I’ll draw one okay, just get me a pen and paper.’
At this Billy started to laugh. His body shook a little as the laugh became a roaring thing. Joe could see that tears spilled from his eyes as his mouth stretched wide and fresh blood began to ooze from his cut lips.
‘I’m afraid that won’t do it Joe.’ Melanie said over the drone of Billy’s laughing.
‘It would have taken a couple of days to prepare the sigil on your letters, the effect will last a few weeks. Billy’s tattoo took few months as its permanent.’
Joe sighed. ‘Okay, then we find the letters Macgregor had them off me when I arrived.’
‘There’s no time Joe, they could be with him, with my father, they might be destroyed...there’s no time to find out what happened to them.’
‘So what do you suggest?’ Joe asked.
‘We take him.’ She said indicating Billy. The laughing died down.
‘Is that wise? The fuckers bound up with neck-ties, which he’s clearly going to undo while he’s in the car and then he’ll strangle us with them.’
Joe felt that this was how his luck was going now. ‘And he’s bound to slow us down anyway.’ He added to try and appear more rational.
Melanie waved her hands in front of her to stop him, ‘Okay, okay fair enough. Look, go get the car, bring it here, it will be much quicker than trying to walk me over to it.’
Joe thought about this. The logic was sound. ‘Will you be ok with him?’
Melanie nodded. ‘So long as your knots are good there’s no need to worry, besides he’s not in any fit state to start another fight I think.’
Again Joe concurred, the thinking was faultless. Time was against them and they needed to move quickly. ‘Okay, I’ll get the car. You grab some food and drink in case we get stuck or have to move on foot. I’ll be back in ten minutes.’ He said.
Melanie moved to him as he stood up from Billy and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him passionately. Joe didn’t want the kiss to end but she eased him away.
‘Don’t worry.’ She said. ‘Just get the car and come straight back, I’ll be waiting at the front of the house.’
Joe said nothing. The small voice at the back of his mind was drowned out by the noise of his desire. He stepped over Billy and made his way out of the house and into the night.
Chapter Thirteen
The hall was filled with a steady, low murmur of chanting. Peake stood at the head of the assembled townsfolk with his head bowed in quiet contemplation. The robes he wore were heavy ‘heavy with the weight of responsibility’ he often quipped. The cloth was strong cotton, dyed to a very deep crimson. Not to hide the blood. Most of the front of the robe was darkened almost too black by staining. Years of offerings had taken their toll.
This past week had been extremely trying for him. The arrival of the Government man into Roscregan had merely added to an already challenging set of circumstances. Duggan, as usual, was the problem. He had almost got himself caught during a foray into Edinburgh and had it not been for Macgregor, and he supposed Billy’s own brand of vicious cunning, he may not have escaped. They had however left behind them a bloodbath.
The larger part of the problem was that they had been required to despatch two policemen as well as two girls, both prostitutes, and a boy that Macgregor had probably got in tow for his own pleasure on the return route. Peake was very clear about anyone who caught sight of the men in action, they all had to be destroyed immediately. No living witnesses.
This had upset the supply of offerings. The police forces across the country were now on high alert and as The Great Father had been very demanding lately, the blood that Peake had delivered was not enough and punishments were to be had should he not quench the thirst of his master soon. There was no explanation of why such a rise in demand had occurred but who was he to question The Dweller in The Deep, praise be unto him.
As if this was not enough many of the men were due to Return. The next two years would see them take their place with the Great Father. They would be at his side, finally after forty years of living with the wretched filth that is humanity. As Patrician he wouldn’t see this day until he was in his eighties, a lifetime eaten up inside a dirty and fragile skin. Ah, but the glory that would await him would be reward enough, a just reward for his devotion and personal sacrifice.
He had given his entire life to the Father and soon he would offer the bounty of his own seed. That day couldn’t come quick enough in fact. Peake’s thoughts darkened and moved from reflections of praise and duty. The girl had been a problem even from her earliest days. Questions, curiosity, rebellion and defiance had been her gift to him for creating her.
He wished he could have offered her up sooner. But no female child born of the human men of the Falls could be given until the Great One allowed it. None could even be shared as gifts of their sex to deserving members of the faithful. They were very specific about this. The punishments for transgression were terrible even to him.
The chanting began to rise up from the monotonous rumble to an excited chorus. The faithful nodded their heads lightly and repeatedly as they uttered the words, ‘Ph'ngluim glw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.’ Peake breathed deeply and let his thoughts disperse, he pictured only a deep and dark place and within it a city, a vista of cyclopean structures worn by time and tide.
‘Great Father and Lord Master Dagon. Guide us. Bring us to you. Open the gates of R’yleh so that we may gather and give ourselves to He Who Dreams. You who stand at his side, you who are his power in the depths.
The chanting rose yet another octave, the nodding became faster. Peake lifted his arms, spreading them to accept the whole of his Masters will. In the dark city, his mind’s eye moved through to the centre to where he saw the Temple, which dwarfed all around it. A vast construct of basalt hewn by ancient sculptors into a worthy throne for Great Father Dagon.
Peake felt his body begin to shiver, he almost vibrated as the power of Dagon began to flood into him, such gifts his master would give, and such rewards.
He no longer heard the chants, only the impossible noise of an ocean of water filled his ears. Dagon would speak soon. He would guide his acolyte and make his demands. Peake shouted with an excited glee in his voice, ‘My Father! My Master! Bless us your faithful, we wish only to bow at your feet.’
Abruptly blackness replaced Peake’s vision. He felt as though he was moving backwards at an incredible speed. His heart threatened to burst as he tore through the darkness. He was being pulled, sucked violently backwards, away from the Temple, away from the city and his Lord.
He eyes opened. Startled and dazed and he staggered back, falling to the floor as his foot trod on his flowing robe. The townsfolk ceased their dirge, heads stopping their nodding simultaneously. They looked to Peake and then at each other in confusion.
Peake gasped and tried to stand. The hulking form of Macgregor appeared at his side and took his arm, lifting him with ease to his feet.
Peake gasped. ‘One of ours is gone.’ He pushed Macgregor away and turned to his flock. ‘Brothers, something has happened in the town, one of ours is fallen!’ There was no mistaking the break. The community was tightly woven into the rituals that bound the town. Each of them gave a portion of their Essence to the ward that protected them, to the demands of the Great Father. The rituals bound them together, they were sewn into the very fabric of the place. When a follower died, when a part of the weave was unpicked, it struck at the very centre of Peake’s being as all of the rituals were channelled through him and this in turn, although to a lesser extent was felt by the others.
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