Blood Red City (28 page)

‘You think we should head back to the way in?'

‘That might be the best option. If we can find it. This place is a lot bigger than I thought it would be.'

‘How long will that last?' Sarah said, meaning the lighter.

‘Not long. Another reason to be getting out of here. Come on, this way.'

Sarah frowned. ‘I thought we came in that way.'

‘Are you sure?'

‘No,' she admitted. ‘Are you?'

Guy shook his head. ‘If we're not careful, we might be stuck down here waiting for Brinkman to find
us
.' He sighed. ‘Come on, let's try the way you said. It's as good as any.'

‘Just so long as it's not my fault if we get really lost.'

Guy smiled. ‘Promise.'

*   *   *

There were three raised plinths at the back of the altar stone. Resting on the central plinth, picked out in the light of Brinkman's torch, was a stone axe-head.

‘Bingo,' Davenport said. ‘Perhaps the trip was worth it after all.'

‘Do you think we should try fitting it into one of the holes in the floor?' Brinkman said.

‘I suspect it's all three or nothing. And I'm not sure I want to be here to see what happens anyway.'

‘Well, at least we can take this one into custody,' Brinkman said.

He reached out across the altar and lifted the artefact from its position. It was not as cold as he had expected, but it was heavy. The carvings on its surface were clean and sharp, as if they were newly made.

‘May I see?'

Davenport held out his hand. But before Brinkman could hand over the axe-head, there was a rough grinding sound of stone on stone. They both shone their torches back at the altar, in time to see the central plinth sliding down into the surface.

‘That may not be a good sign,' Davenport said.

‘They know we've taken this.'

‘Someone knows,' Davenport agreed.

As he spoke, there was a muffled roar like a wild animal. A sudden thump, followed by an ominous cracking sound.

‘And they're not happy about it,' Brinkman said.

They backed away, torches trained on the altar, as this was where the sound seemed to be coming from. There was another thump. More cracking. A split appeared in the front of the altar, starting at the top and travelling right down to the base. The whole stone edifice shifted.

‘Time we were leaving.' Davenport had to shout above the sound of cracking stone.

They turned. Torchlight smeared across the walls, seeking out the way they'd come in – revealing dark figures approaching along the same tunnel.

Then, behind them, came a colossal crash as the front of the altar cracked again. Davenport whirled round, his torch beam finding the altar. Dust hung in the air like mist. The front of the altar was a crazy-paving of stone fragments that suddenly exploded outwards. A dark shape hauled itself into the torch beam, straightening up and bellowing in undiluted rage.

A massive creature stood in front of them, its shape masked by dark hair. But there was no mistaking the fact that the legs and torso were almost human. The arms, also covered with hair, ended in enormous fists. The fingers splayed out suddenly as it roared again – the sound thundering out from the snarling mouth set in the head of a savage bull.

‘The Minotaur,' Davenport breathed. ‘My God – it's real.'

 

CHAPTER 27

‘Get down!' Guy's voice echoed round the chamber, and Leo Davenport and Colonel Brinkman threw themselves to the floor as Guy drew the Luger from his holster. Behind him, Sarah watched in horror, hand to her mouth, unable to believe what she was seeing. The sound of the shot in the enclosed space was deafening, echoing round the circular chamber.

The creature staggered back as the bullet impacted on its chest, ripping through hair and skin. At once, Leo and Brinkman dashed across to join Guy and Sarah in the doorway. Guy fired again, driving the beast further back towards the shattered remains of the stone altar.

‘Is that really the Minotaur?' Sarah gasped.

‘Could be what the myth is based on,' Leo told her.

‘Let's debate the myth later,' Brinkman said.

Across the room, the creature had recovered from the shots. Orange tendrils caught the dancing torchlight, binding together over the bullet holes.

‘Ubermensch,' Guy said. ‘We won't stop it like this.'

‘Uber-something,' Leo agreed. ‘Follow me, I know the way out.'

‘And we've got what we came for,' Brinkman added, showing Guy and Sarah the axe-head before stuffing it inside his sheepskin coat.

There was a thundering roar from behind them. Its massive head lowered, the beast was charging across the chamber. Sarah thought she could smell the hot, rancid breath from the flared nostrils. The deep-set dark eyes stared malevolently out of the bull's head. Guy grabbed her hand, dragging her with him down the tunnel.

‘Be careful,' Guy called to Leo. ‘There are Germans. We came to warn you. They must be heading this way. I don't know how we got ahead of them. Must have taken a short cut.'

Sarah risked a look back as she ran. Brinkman was behind her, and behind him the creature's huge body almost filled the tunnel – a black shape in the near darkness. She turned back – and almost cannoned into Guy as he skidded to a halt. In front of him, Leo had also stopped.

‘Someone coming,' he gasped.

Torch beams scythed through the darkness ahead, rapidly approaching.

‘This way!' Brinkman plunged through a dark opening in the tunnel wall, switching off his torch. Sarah followed, the others close on her heels. Behind her she heard the snorting of the creature, shouting, then gunfire.

*   *   *

The candles were lit, their guttering flames providing the only light now that the door to the corridor was shut. She sat alone at the circular table, the seventy-eight cards stacked face down in front of her. For the moment, Miss Manners ignored the letters and symbols round the edge of the table.

She sat absolutely still, eyes closed. It was a long time since she had done this. A long time since she had given in to the images that danced in her mind, the words and symbols that her imagination plucked out of the air. At first she had been excited by the gift, the power. When she first met Crowley and joined him, she had been entranced by the possibilities.

But gradually she had come to realise what a curse it was. A curse that still blighted Jane Roylston. Poor Jane – Miss Manners had not seen her for weeks. No, she thought – focus. She pushed all concern for Jane to the edge of her mind. She needed to concentrate, to be sure she could still do this.

In her mind's eye she pictured Guy Pentecross and Sarah Diamond, making the image as clear and as detailed as she could.

When she was sure she had them, she opened her eyes. She reached out and spread the Tarot cards in a fan across the polished surface of the table. Picked a card at random from somewhere near the middle, and turned it over.

It was a card from the Major Arcana – The Lovers.

She replaced it, and shuffled the deck before spreading it out again. Now when she closed her eyes she thought of Leo Davenport.

It was another major card this time. But not the one she expected. She had thought it would be The Fool, but in fact it was The Magician. Perhaps she had underestimated him.

Time to move on, she decided. ‘What are they doing now?' she said out loud. ‘Colonel Brinkman – Oliver. And Leo, Guy and Sarah. Show me.'

She turned a card. Stared at it for several moments, her fingers still gripping the edge. A skeleton, sickle in hand.

Death.

She sighed, closed her eyes, leaned back. Then immediately she jolted upright again, eyes wide open in fear of the image that had appeared in her mind. A savage bull charging towards her, flame curling from its nostrils.

*   *   *

The creature caught in the torch beams was a horrifying mixture of man and bull. It charged along the tunnel towards Nachten, Grebben and the others.

‘Is it possible?' Nachten murmured.

‘Sir – do we fire, sir?' Grebben asked. The creature was almost on them.

In answer, Nachten raised his own pistol and loosed off three shots in rapid succession. The beast was knocked back by the impact, roaring in pain and anger. But it didn't stop. Head down, it charged back at them.

The whole tunnel echoed with the hammering of machine gun fire from the SS men. The creature was lost in smoke and dust, its snarls drowned out by the noise. Stone chips flew up from stray bullets as they hit the tunnel walls and floor. The noise cut out abruptly as Nachten raised his hand.

‘Enough. We must retrieve the body.'

‘If it's truly dead, sir,' one of the men said nervously. He was as battle-hardened as Grebben himself, but Grebben knew how the man felt. For a moment, as the creature charged at them, he had been as scared as he had ever been.

‘Of course it's dead,' Nachten snapped.

But even as he said it, a dark shape coalesced out of the dusty air in front of them. Its chest was ripped apart. The face was pock-marked with bullet holes. Hair was scorched away from the ragged remains of flesh and skin. But the creature was alive, lurching forwards. A massive fist lashed out, at the nearest man.

It caught Nachten surprised and off balance as he backed away, hammering him sideways into the wall. Before Grebben could react, the creature had dragged the standartenfuhrer to his feet, lifting him off the ground. Then it hurled him back at the other men. There was a crack of breaking bone as Nachten hit the wall, then slid down to the ground. Unconscious, or dead.

‘Back!' Grebben shouted. ‘Everyone back! You.' He pointed at the nearest two men. ‘Bring the standartenfuhrer. The rest of you – covering fire.'

The two men pulled Nachten down the tunnel, his feet dragging on the ground as they ran. Nachten's head moved slightly – he was alive then. But obviously badly injured. The other two SS men fired their machine pistols again, raking them back and forth as they fired into darkness and smoke. A discarded torch rolled along the tunnel floor. Its light gleamed for an instant, then went out as a foot stamped down on it.

One of the guns emptied. The soldier ripped out the magazine and slotted in another.

Grebben fired his Luger, knowing it would have no effect. But what would? What could possibly stop the brute beast?

‘Keep going – back to the way out,' he yelled, hoping they remembered the way. God knew what had happened to Nachten's map – even if he could understand it.

He grabbed the nearer of the two soldiers still firing. ‘Grenade,' he demanded. He took the stick-grenade the man pulled from his belt and gestured for him to follow the others. ‘Now – run.'

Grebben turned and peered into the darkness. The only light was from the torch he had somehow managed to keep hold of. It danced across the walls and floor as he used the same hand to grab the pin and pull it awkwardly from the grenade. Then he hurled the explosive at the creature that burst out of the smoke and dust and charged towards him, turned and ran.

He was counting, out of habit and under his breath. So he knew exactly when to throw himself to the floor and cover the back of his head and his ears with his hands. He was so close that the blast wave lifted him off the floor. He could feel it reverberating inside his chest. A rush of hot air. The roar of the explosion like a savage beast rolling down the tunnel. The crash of falling stone.

When he dared to stagger to his feet and shine his torch back down the tunnel, it illuminated a ragged wall of fallen stone. The roof above was a gaping maw. There was no sign of the creature that had been chasing them. Grebben watched for a full minute, hardly daring to breathe, expecting at any moment that the creature would burst through the rubble and debris and charge towards him.

Finally, Hauptsturmfuhrer Grebben turned and walked slowly back down the tunnel.

 

CHAPTER 28

He kept her chained in the cellar for a week. By then it seemed clear that Jane Roylston was not a threat. Crowley spoke the words of power, binding her to his will, every morning and evening. The holy man in Nepal who taught him the words, the incantations, had been vague about how – or even if – they worked. It was over thirty years since Crowley had learned them, and he couldn't even be sure he had them exactly right. It was hard to tell if the words had any effect, but it made him feel more confident. Less afraid.

After a while, he allowed her back to her room. She ate and drank little. She saw no one except Crowley. She rarely left the room – either sitting staring at the wall or lying on the bed, eyes closed. Perhaps she was asleep. He asked her questions, but the answers were now either noncommittal or non-existent.

Eventually, Crowley was sure the woman was no threat to anyone except Ralph, who was already dead. And probably he deserved it. Even by Crowley's standards the man had been a sadistic brute, though he had his uses. He considered admitting to Brinkman that Jane had returned. At least it would stop the man delving into her past.

One of the newer girls, Mary, took Jane's place at the ceremonies and séances. She had some innate ability, but nothing like Jane's talents. It wasn't long before Crowley realised that he needed Jane back. If nothing else, Mary might benefit from watching her, from seeing how the more experienced medium channelled the voices and messages from Beyond.

Crowley's Library doubled as a séance room. More than half of the bookshelves round the walls were empty. Candles and symbols of power replaced the books – animal skulls, phials of coloured liquid, statuettes and ancient sacrificial bowls. A curved dagger from Mesopotamia. The centre of the room was dominated by a large, round table. There was nothing so crude as an upturned glass or lettered cards. Whatever message came through would be delivered by the medium.