“Can I help you?” It took some effort to focus on the person who asked me the question thanks to my building anger.
“Sorry?”
“Can I help you with anything?” A slim attractive girl stood in front of me waiting for a response. She had short black hair and was wearing a black polo shirt with the Hellfire Caves logo over one small breast.
“Umm…sorry, I guess I’m not with it today.” I said quietly, thinking what I really wanted to say was, ‘more like not with it this year’… Man that vision had really shaken me up.
“I just wanted to check out the caves whilst I’m here.” She gave me a small smile and said,
“Come on, I’ll get you a ticket.”
I stood by the entrance for what seemed like the longest time. It was like facing the door to a haunted house and knowing what you needed was inside, but you feared what you would see. I don’t know how many times I convinced myself to just wait for Sigurd to show up but each time I felt as though I needed to prove something to myself. I mean, if I wasn’t strong enough to walk in there on my own in the light of day, then how would I fair crossing over into Hell itself? After all, it was just a few caves…right? Well standing staring at it right now I wasn’t so sure.
I don’t know how many people I saw coming and going but each one was laughing or smiling as though they had just stepped off a fair ground ride. What would they really be like if they had any clue to the reality of what went on down there…? What if they had seen what I had? Would there be screams of terror? Would anyone weep desperate tears like I had done? These are the questions I would never have any answers to but one thing remained…
The caves didn’t want me in them.
This was something that the whole place seemed to scream out at me, like a pulsating threat, almost as if the very heart in my bag had started to beat along with its dark secrets. It was only once I took that first step through its warning gates did the pressure of the unwelcome start to ease. I walked into the red glow of the past and each side was filled with plaques of information of members of the Hellfire Club.
My lip curled as I came to the man responsible, one Sir Francis Dashwood. I stared into the face that seemed so respectable, one even holding a bible. I read the words below and my fingers curled into a fist before placing my hand over his face because I just couldn’t stand to see it any longer.
“You did this.” I snarled the words and pushed away from his picture like I was pushing the man himself. I ignored the words of history for the first time in my life, as I knew it would only be setting a foolish man in good light, when it should have been sticky with darkness, just like the tunnel I was about to step into.
I looked to the fake flame lights that were attached to either side of the opening and it quickly transported me back to the vision of Jared’s first life ending. The way the flickering light caught the distraught note of death in his features.
The complete realisation the end was coming was written in his eyes the way one sees the storm brewing. And they flashed silver, as though the beast knew his host was near. Well now I was the one that was near and with only my knowledge as power, I looked back at the entrance one last time to see the naive world looked a million miles away…and it was…it truly was.
As soon as I started to make my way into the first tunnel the first thing I noticed was how cold it suddenly became. The gravel under my feet crunched making it impossible to hear much beyond without stopping. I was thankful at least for the low lighting that didn’t plunge you into complete darkness. It wasn’t that far to the first part of the cave that branched off to the left after a creepy mannequin stood in a recess that represented the steward’s cave, or at least so the plaque that was on the wall told me.
Considering I didn’t fancy wigging myself out any more than I already was, I didn’t give it more than a glance before continuing on. The next stretch was now considerably darker than the first part and it started to decline deeper underground. The next plaque I came to caused me to hug my centre as I read the title,
‘Ghosts in the Cave’
The first name was none other than ‘Paul Whitehead’. Now, that was one ghost that would regret showing up around me, unless he fancied getting his pale ass kicked and getting a piece of my mind while cupping his pasty white balls! Ghost or no ghost, I just didn’t care, the heartless bastard was gonna get what was coming to him!
I decided not to read on anymore but just continue on only to find the nasty bugger had his own bloody cave. Here it explained about leaving his heart to Dashwood in a marble urn that was still there behind a gated door. They had dressed some poor dummy up to mimic Paul Whitehead, that stood next to the resting place of where his heart should be. I felt some sick revenge twist my gut knowing that I had that very heart in my bag right now and I wanted to mock him with the fact. My actions happened without thought as I dug in my bag and grabbed the heart in a bruising hold. In fact, I was surprised that when I lifted it out it still remained in one piece.
“Here it is Whitehead…this is all that is left of you.” I whispered holding it closer to the place the man used to spend his time and the raw power I felt buzzing along my veins was one that could easily become addictive. It was only when I heard someone approaching that it pulled me from my dark game and I quickly hid it from view.
I decided to let the people pass me so I waited before I carried on, deeper down until coming to a junction. It was lighter on the right so I chose that way for obvious reasons. This whole part went round in a circle so I didn’t think I would miss much by choosing the easier route. When both sides came together it started to decline further still and I wondered just how deep underground you were when at the end.
Another plaque I looked at in disgust, as it named off the members of the Hellfire Club in 1762. I shook my head without reading the names as at this point I didn’t think it a good idea to increase the negative vibes I was projecting already…not in a place that had them in abundance.
The next part of the cave got considerably steeper and because of this I was putting the sudden drop of temperature down to that fact. I pulled my hood over my head to keep the chill from my neck and pulled my fingerless gloves further over my hands as I took cautious steps forward. One more step and it had me feeling as if I’d just walked through a different time once more. It was as if I’d just missed a step where there weren’t any and I fell forward having to catch myself on the wall before I hit the floor.
My hand slipped on the damp stone but thankfully I had already saved myself from sacking it. Although when I pushed my hair back I saw the white chalk that now covered my palm from the light. It was only when I spun round that I realised why the light was placed there in the first place. Large Roman numerals were carved into the stone of ‘XXII’ which thanks to the plaque underneath told me it meant 22.
“What’s this?” I whispered out loud frowning but read on.
TAKE TWENTY STEPS
‘Remnants of 18th century poems referring to a secret passage in the caves’
Take twenty steps and rest awhile,
Then take a pick and find the stile,
Where once I did my love beguile,
‘Twas twenty-two in Dashwood’s time,
Perhaps to hide this cell divine,
Where lay my love in peace sublime.
When Churchill turned against the club in the Wikes quarrel, he wrote a poem with lines in it that seemed to give the same hint:
Under the Temple lay a cave,
Made by some guilty, coward slave,
Whose actions fear’d rebuke, a maze,
Of intricate and winding ways,
Not to be found without a clue,
One passage only known to few,
In paths direct led to a cell,
Where Fraud in secret lov’d to dwell,
With all her tools and slaves about her,
Nor fear’d lest honesty should rout her.
When I finished reading I was
in shock. It was like something the Oracle would have written. But here it was, clear white writing on a black background with the light shining against it. There was no mistaking that this was something important and following my gut, I just knew this was the very spot that would aid me in getting into Hell. Well if it wasn’t, then I would go as far as saying I would eat my own foot! Ok, so I wouldn’t, but you get the level of passion I felt right now. This was it…
This was the gateway to Draven.
Chapter 39
It’s Dark in Hell
The rest of the cave was as expected…dark, cold and depressing for me. Maybe if I hadn’t had such an intimate connection then I would have enjoyed the history that only hinted at the sordid. But as it stood I knew exactly what had gone on here and sordid wasn’t a strong enough word for it!
I thought at one point I would throw up as I made my way from the Banqueting hall to the Inner Temple. The nauseating feeling that just washed over me was like being drowned in a negative sea of emotions. You could almost taste it in the frigid air the further away from the outside world I ventured. At one part you had to cross a small bridge to get to a large room they called the Inner Temple, where they had brightly dressed mannequins drinking around a table. This actually made me laugh out loud.
Did they really believe that a man would go as far as to dig over half a mile into the countryside and some three hundred feet down just for a bit of fun? Just for a quirky place to host parties? Well, I knew the truth and it was a damn sight darker than the smiling faces of the dummies that were putting on an unconvincing show of playing normal.
The River Styx was said to be what you crossed to get into the Temple but these days it was little more than a small pool of water, although according to the plaque by the bridge it was said to be much deeper years ago and the only way across it was by boat. Now, knowing my mythological history and what I had read up on since being thrust into the world of the supernatural, I knew what this meant.
The River Styx was what separated the real world from the Hades ruled version of the Afterlife. Although Hell in the Christian sense was only where ‘Bad people’ were sent, but in the Underworld mythology states there are different sections. The Elysium fields for the good, the Asphodel meadows for the indifferent or ordinary, and the Tartarus for the evil. However according to Roman beliefs Avernus is for the good and Inferno for the evil.
I also found it fascinating that one story my gran had told me when I was younger was about Achilles. According to the mighty legend that was Achilles, he was supposedly dipped into the river in his childhood. It was believed that the River Styx also had miraculous powers and could make someone invulnerable and immortal, so when he was lowered into the water he gained this same power to carry on throughout his life. However, when being lowered by his mother the only part that wasn’t touched by the water was his heel, by which she held him. This was the reasoning behind his one and only weak spot known of course as the Achilles' heel.
Mine, no doubt, would be named Draven.
So, more importantly, getting back to the River Styx and the reasons in which I believed it would play a part in my next mission. The ferryman Charon was believed to have transported the souls of the newly dead across this river into the Underworld. In ancient times some believed that placing a coin in the mouth of the deceased would help pay the toll for the ferry. This is why I think coins were found in the caves themselves. I think Dashwood believed that by paying the ferryman across this part in the caves was the same as paying to get into the Underworld.
There was a plaque in the banqueting hall to explain that one of the first visitors of the caves when they first re-opened found a lump of chalk and embedded within was a series of coins. Not only is it odd in itself to find this, but what was stranger still was that they were scratched on in Greek characters. These characters read ‘Francis’ and ‘HHHH’ on the reverse. Discoverers of the coins believed this could denote to ‘Hell’ in being the banqueting Hall and the church above representing ‘Heaven’. However, I had my own theory.
I believed that Dashwood had these coins made for his twelve Apostles. His ‘brothers’ that were the only ones allowed to cross the river and enter the inner Temple, paying the ‘Ferryman’ with his own coins. This thought automatically made me think of my own coin which had never left my pocket. Did that have something to do with what was coming next? Was I to use that to pay my own way into Hell?
All these questions plagued me as I spent the rest of the day sat on one of the picnic benches picking at a club sandwich. I explained to the staff that I was meeting someone but didn’t know when they would show, so that after ordering my fourth cup of tea, they didn’t think me as much of a weirdo. I also got up and walked up the massive hill to the Dashwood Mausoleum that stood next to the Church of St Lawrence. It was closed off from the public but was open enough to see inside and had you only imagining what must have gone on there.
Another mystery was the strange golden ball that sat on top of the tower of the Church, which was out of place for somewhere like West Wycombe. Again the place was conjuring up more questions than answers.
It was actually surprising how fast the day went by and soon I noticed that they were telling the few other people around that they were closing at 5:30. I picked up my plate and mug to take into the coffee shop which, I noticed, also sold a few souvenirs. I put my empties down on the counter to look at the shelves. I found mostly corny skulls, witches caldrons and your usual magnets, oversized pencils, rubbers and leather bookmarks, all imprinted with the Hellfire Caves logo. Then I picked up the essentials.
A chocolate skull, a cake bar, and tin of toffee, a book on the caves and a wind up torch that also had the Hellfire Caves logo on it.
“A few gifts for the family?” The same girl that had helped me earlier asked as she came from the kitchen.
“Uh…yeah, why not?” She frowned at me for my weird answer and I decided to act somewhat normal for a change.
“They have a sweet tooth...hey, I don’t suppose I could get a bottle of water off you as well…? You know, for the trip home.” She smiled at me as she rang my items through the till.
“Sure thing, I gather your friend didn’t show in the end?” She inquired politely.
“He’s more of what you would call a night owl, so I didn’t hold much faith that he would.” I said not completely lying.
“That’s a shame he missed out.” I couldn’t help but let loose a nervous giggle.
“Umm yeah…I guess, but I am sure he will get another chance soon.” Like in a few hours just after you guys high tail it outta here! Of course I didn’t add this, but did manage to get in another nervous giggle for good measure.
“Well, I’d better be off, but thanks for your help and have a good evening.” I said and she smiled once more replying,
“Yeah, you too.” I turned and muttered,
“Doubtful, where I’m going.”
After hooking the plastic bag handle round my wrist, I walked outside the gates as the last person to leave, then I waited. On the other side of the flint walls was a small grass verge where I sat and when I looked round it gave me a good view to see what was happening with the staff. It didn’t take long, as I gathered all that needed doing was a quick walk through the caves to make sure no one was still down there, before they could start to lock up.
I saw the girl walk into what must have been a control room as the lights went off just inside the entrance. Then I saw my opportunity, as she must have heard a phone ringing because she left the gates open to go and answer it. I waited until she went out of sight and then made a mad dash for that entrance. I jumped over the ticket barrier, thinking I didn’t do it with as much flair as that black dude had, as I nearly fell forward. I righted myself and ran for the darkness of the caves so that when she came back she wouldn’t see me.
After about five minutes she returned still chatting on her mobile phone, telling someone she would be home soon and did
they need her to pick anything up. I was just glad she was distracted as she locked the gate and didn’t look too closely or she would have seen me hugging the damp wall like an over-enthusiastic rock climber.
“Do we have any garlic to make the sauce?” Was the last thing I heard her say before it became silent. I waited for longer than was necessary before coming to the entrance way which thankfully was still light thanks to the summer sky. The main gates were now locked but I knew this wasn’t going to be a problem for Sigurd when he finally turned up.
The letter didn’t say a time but I knew it would be dark so I had some hours to kill and I was damn certain I would be spending them right here in the light, not in the creepy caves that were now pitch black. So I plonked myself down, put my back to the wall and bit into my chocolate skull.
I didn’t know what time it was but it was now dark, my mobile phone was dead and I felt a bit sick from pigging out on chocolate, cake and toffee. But in my defence, that was all that was available to me at the time, so a dinner of sugar was what I got. The water was long gone and I had powered up the torch as much as my hands could do without giving into cramp. It was one of those dynamo ones that needed to be squeezed about a gazillion times before giving off enough light to last about 3 minutes but it was all I had.
So, for the last hour at least I was fed, powered and ready to go…just not down there… alone and in the dark with a load of pissed off ghosts that had heard me slagging them off most of the day! But as the minutes ticked by and still no Sigurd I was getting restless. What if I needed to be down there waiting? Although, even thinking it made me laugh at how stupid it sounded. I mean, why would he want that and if so, why not write it in his letter?
No, I was safer waiting up here, where at least there was a security light that hadn’t plunged me into darkness. Oh and there was also a fullish moon that aided in lighting the courtyard. It seemed to reflect off the flint and give it a silvery glow that I had been staring at for longer than was healthy. I had already tried the control room door to find it locked up tight. Now wouldn’t that have been handy.
The Quarter Moon (Afterlife saga) Page 44
