Red Rain (The Circle Book 3)

by Lee Isserow

  He glanced over to Tali, considering for the merest moment to allow her to continue to briefing and explain their new strategy. But as much as that was protocol, it would be placing a buffer between him and his people. If they were to respect him again, and if he had any chance of raising morale, he would have to present himself as someone who deserved their respect.

  “We're going back in. . . co-ordinated attacks around the world, one site at a time, all of us working together to cut these damn things down to size. Tali will be keeping track of castings, weapons, elements, and combinations thereof. Once one has been used in one location, it will not be repeated elsewhere. Between us, we have an untold amount of power at our fingertips, an almost infinite number of castings that these bastards can't even begin to comprehend. . . “

  Murmurs rippled across the room, and he could feel the morale on the operatives auras begin to shift in his favour. But it was only a subtle shift, not yet enough to truly make a dent.

  “And I'll be by your side every step of the way, in the bloody trenches, just like at the Atlantic. We―all of us―are going to kick this thing's arse all the way back to whatever pit spewed it forth. We're the bloody Circle, and this otherworldly prick is going to learn that you don't mess with the Natural World.”

  Across the room, auras from even more of his operatives began to send out waves of positivity, and those auras began to encourage even the doubters to start to feel positive about his leadership. Soon, he would have the will of his people on side once again, and even though there were still those amongst them that were not entirely convinced yet, they would be won over by the majority supporting his position.

  “Uh. . . sir?” Tali whispered, as she came up behind him. “You might want to get this show on the road. . .”

  “Why?” he grunted.

  “They're no longer being subtle about their intent. I'm getting reports coming in from around the world. . . They've come above ground.

  25

  An ironic way to lose a life

  THE OUTER REALMS

  Shaman Kahgo's eyes had been closed for what felt like a day, or maybe two, far less time than it had taken to traverse the abyss to Xoth. And yet, despite such little comparable time having passed, the great rush of travelling within Idh-yaa's grasp seemed to be drawing to a close. He opened his eyes and found that they had not only crossed a vast distance in a fraction of the time he had journeyed alone, but they were practically at their destination, closing in on the orbit of Janai'ngo's watery sphere.

  Idh-yaa loosed the tight grasp on him, her tendrils uncoiling to allow him to travel the rest of the way under his own auspices. Her hold had been tight, and he shook out his limbs, feeling bones crack and muscles ache as he quickly got his bearings and began to propel himself alongside her towards the home of the great crustacean deity.

  The tide on the surface of the liquid globe was already turbulent, and from within its vibrant green core, the massive form of Janai'ngo burst forth, sending tsunamis surging across the sphere. The water slicked off the great god's shell, his myriad beady, black eyes all staring directly at the cosmically proportioned worm that had accepted his invitation.

  Idh-yaa's eyes were similarly locked on his, and appeared to be glowing all the more for having the colossal lobster-beast in her sights. A rumbling hiss came from her gigantic mouth, and it seemed to ripple across her entire body, reverberating out into the void for millions of miles in every direction. It made the very air quiver, and Kahgo found himself having to move away from her, in a vain attempt to reduce the vibrations that pummelled him to the very core.

  They stared at one another for what felt like days, perhaps weeks, with the hiss the only sound that either of them made. Kahgo wished once again that he had paid more attention to his studies, that he had made the effort to learn this tongue that only one of the Old Ones was known to speak. There was no way to tell what was being said―if anything was indeed being said. It could very well have just been a hostile murmur. After all, Janai'ngo was famed for once having tried to kill the great Cthulhu and take Idh-yaa as his own bride.

  That attempt, the story went, did not go well for Janai'ngo. It was this battle that lead to him to being trapped between realms, forced to guard the watery gateway, condemned for eternity to live one half in the Outer Realms, and one half in the Natural World. It was his prison, one made by a deity, for a deity.

  Idh-yaa's hiss came to an end. The gargantuan crustacean appeared to shift in place, cocking his head, or perhaps nodding. He made no sound in return, but whatever his reaction had been to whatever she had said, it was responded to by the Mighty Mother snaking her way slowly through the void towards him. He continued to show no attempt to react to this development, and as far as Shaman could tell, he did not seem to move at all, not even to blink or breathe. He was frozen like a statue as the horrific worm drifted towards him,.

  She circled the sphere that was his cage, not just once, but many times over, such was the great size of her impossible length. Her rear quarters looped around her body, as if to tie her into a knot, and then plunged into the depths of the water. And still, Janai'ngo did not move.

  Her tail emerged from the surface of his domain, sending rain cascading out into the abyss, as her tendrils shook off the water. It was only then that the crustacean moved. He pulled back, raising his many claws, his tentacles held out as if in surrender.

  The tendrils on Idh-yaa's rear quarters moved, each of them pointing to the centre of her last metamer. The ends of them appeared to grab hold of the pale, sagging flesh of the final segment of her body, tearing into it, sending a thick and slimy fluid dripping down her erect tail. A sickly sound of smacking flesh shot out as she ripped all the way through her own body, first only one segment, then the next, and the next. Three gigantic cylinders ruptured, sending her internal juices into the waters below.

  Kahgo's eyes went wide, as he watched the horror occurring ahead of him. The great worm was opening herself up for Janai'ngo, revealing the myriad sexual organs that lay within her hide. Each of them was bulbous and laden with pustules, every single one of them differently formed, massive mounds of flesh and sludge, all of which seemed to beat with their own rhythm. He realised that this was not Idh-yaa taking some kind of vengeance upon the lobster god. . . It was some kind of twisted mating ritual.

  Janai'ngo's claws whipped through the air, they tore at his own chest and ripped away at the meat. His tentacles shot in to assist, pulling layers upon layers of flesh out of the way to reveal his own genitals, hundreds of them, each one tumescent, and terrifyingly razor sharp.

  The worm god's tail began to waver back and forth, as if she were signalling that she was ready for him. His own organs seemed to react with bobs and nods. He too was ready for the consummation of their lust.

  Idh-yaa's tail lashed towards Janai'ngo and tore straight through his chest. His barbed organs appeared to latch on to her as she penetrated him, and he began to rhythmically shunt upon them as she ground her metamer deeper and deeper into his core, his black blood flowing down her pale skin as she ravaged him.

  In a flash, her head dived into the water, her body's grasp on the watery sphere tightening as she went deeper and deeper. A scream rang out from Janai'ngo, and the green waters began to turn black with his blood. There was movement under his shell, as something crawled under his skin. In a great torrent of thick, slimy blood, Idh-yaa's head burst out from his mouth. He appeared to choke upon her, gargling and screaming as her long tongue slicked out and licked his sanguine fluids from her flesh.

  Janai'ngo lashed out, his claws cut through the great worm's body, sending her glistening silver blood furrowing out into the abyss. Her grip on the watery sphere loosened, and her body fell away. Her tail remaining connected to his chest, her head still poking miles out from his gullet, having burrowed all the way through him.

  His tentacles flapped wildly, and wound their way around both their wounds. Hers did the same, her tail stitching
his chest back together with her inside.

  Shaman stared in horror. They weren't just mating, they were binding themselves together, creating a new deity from where there were once two separate beings.

  The lobster god with the tongue of a worm turned to him. They spoke with one voice, his gargles and grunts underscored by her hisses.

  “Thank you, Sha'ma N'doda'k'rgo, son of Khal'kru. . .”

  He was taken aback that such a powerful combination of deities would ever have the desire―let alone the need― to thank him.

  “For aeons our love has been unexpressed. . . forbidden by he who sleeps. . . trapping one of us in the water between worlds, and telling the other that their hearts' desire had passed, then abandoning her for another realm, leaving her to lock herself away beneath the crust of a desolate star. . . She mourned for the loss of a love never consummated, and he cried vast tears that only added to the volume of the watery cage that imprisoned him. . .”

  That was a part of the story that had never been told to him, the drama behind the scenes of the legend, that Idh-yaa and Janai'ngo were in love, rather than him simply rivalling Cthulhu's affection. And although seeing their mating ritual with his own eyes was a nightmare beyond nightmares, he had to admit that it was―at least in theory―a beautiful expression of a love that they were never allowed to experience in times gone by.

  “In thanks for you freeing us from our prisons that we were born into. . . we shall honour our agreement, and grant you freedom from this realm that imprisons you. . .

  The lobster-worm's claws and tentacles gestured to the water that lay ahead of it. Kahgo had no words with which to express his gratitude, and simply bowed his head to the gods.

  He emptied his lungs and plunged into the depths of the emerald waters, waiting for his body to adapt to the transition into liquid as it had done with every other water he had entered in times past.

  But this water was unlike any other he had experienced. His gills did not function as they should have―or perhaps this water that lay between the realms was itself not water, but some kind of representation of water, that did not have the same physical make-up as that of actual water of the Natural World.

  He realised that it was not just the water that was not as he expected―it was the intense and impossible pressure that came with it. The forces pounded at him from every angle, barrelling down upon him, coming and going every direction, and he could not tell which way was up, let alone down, nor could he comprehend the location of the gateway that might lead him back to his home.

  Even the colour of the water appeared to dissipate, darkness coming for him as the pressure grew and grew. Soon, he could no longer feel his limbs, all he could feel was his thoughts. . . slowing. . . his consciousness. . . fleeing. . .

  Then, all he felt was fear.

  Fear that this choice, to seek transit through this passage in the waters, would mean a cruel and painful demise at sea.

  It was, he mused with his last thought, an ironic way to pass into the great beyond. . . Death by attempting to return to life.

  26

  How to gain the advantage

  BARACOA, CUBA

  Faith declared that “there's no time to lose!” which Tali thought was a rather redundant statement if ever she heard one. . .

  The only thing that had changed by the creatures coming above-ground was that their skirmishes would undoubtedly be more public than anyone present would have liked, but the strategy proposed to deal with this enemy from the deep was still sound.

  Light tore across the beach for a fraction of a blink of an eye, as the full ranks of the Circle were teleported to the site of the most aggressive of the beasts. Tali had reports that four of them has ascended upon the streets, and sent the operatives to each of the locations at which had been sighted, split into four groups.

  Faith's team came across their target, and he led the charge, hands whipping ahead of him as he cast at the ground beneath the fiend's feet. Mud punched through the concrete, sending shards of the pavement into the thing's gut. He was careful to hold off on letting the earth itself harm the creature, to allow an earth-based attack to remain in reserve for another time, another place. The slimy monster screamed an almighty roar, reaching desperately for its guts with its tenticular arms. The cut into its belly was deep and wide, its organs trying to fall to the ground below, but it seemed intent on keeping them inside, using three, then five of its appendages to hold them in as its blood splattered to the concrete below.

  It turned to him and glared, each of its eyes narrowing, each of its mouths bearing its dark, shiny teeth. Faith stood in front of it, put his hands to his sides, as if to open himself up for attack. The beast took a step back, lowered itself to the ground and snarled. It was preparing to leap towards him, that was clear, its intentions were all but signposted.

  The others waited, none of them was prepared to waste a casting. While it was on the ground it could counter or dodge their attacks. . . but once it was in the air and hurtling towards Faith, its trajectory would be certain.

  Each of its eyes flicked around, glancing at the others that surrounded it, close to a hundred men and women. Something about their presence perturbed it, and it rose back to its full height.

  “What's happening with the other three?” Faith whispered through to Tali.

  “First attacks all injured them. . . one down from fire. . . now we're waiting for the others to make a move before we put them down.”

  Faith raised an eyebrow at Tali's observation. “They're having a chat, aren't they. . . Trying to work out which of them is going to make the attack and learn how we respond. . .”

  “So, how do you want to deal with it?”

  He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Coordinated assault. . . that's the plan, right? So let's coordinate. . .”

  He could feel Tali ruminating for a moment, then the call went out to all of those spread out across Baracoa.

  Each of the teams worked in unison, their combined intents taking hold of the ground just as Faith had done. But with their combined intent, they could do more than just sending paving stones into the air.

  The entire street tore from the ground on either side of the creatures.

  “Now!” Tali shouted.

  The paving stones collided, sending out a massive crash and a cloud of dust at each of the sites as the raised ground crushed the monsters in their grasp.

  “Everyone okay? All three down?”

  Wind adepts blew the dust clouds away, and the teams reported in.

  Faith's was down.

  The one Shana was assigned to was down.

  “Still alive and kicking here. . .” Talyn grunted, as he ducked out of the way of thrashing tentacles he had got a little too close to. The magickians in his team tore what was left of the street from the ground and hurled every paving stone they could at it, in a desperate attempt to put the damn thing down without resorting to a new casting or element.

  *

  “How. . ?” Tali muttered to herself. She had watched all three of the beasts being attacked, it looked as though it was simultaneous. . .

  She cast to her temples and played back the feeds coming in from the three sites, moving through them slowly, watching every frame that passed her mind's eye with an intense scrutiny.

  The attacks from Faith and Shana's teams were practically concurrent. . . but Talyn's was slightly behind, literally only by a fraction of a second.

  Her jaw dropped. Not only could these creatures share their experiences―they could do so as if they were nerve impulses, travelling to the collective in microseconds.

  She checked back in with the remaining team. They were pummelling the damn thing with everything they had, but it was increasingly resistant to paving stones being slammed into its body.

  “We need to use another casting. . . Sharpen those stones up and rain down some spears. . .”

  The operatives did as she instructed. Each of the paving stones was pulled ap
art at the molecular level, and put back together as metre-long lances. They lined up all around the creature,

  “Now!”

  The spears hurtled through the air, their razor-sharp tips destined for the slimy skin of the brute, and with a rush of intent from all around, they came upon the damn thing's hide. But they did not penetrate. The lances bounced off the monstrosity with no ill-effect, as if they were barely a nuisance to the damn thing.

  Apart from one. One single spear had entered somewhere at the rear, and was protruding from its skull. The tentacles that had been its legs gave way, and it fell to the ground, defeated.

  Tali let a small smile come to her lips. It could be nothing, could be that it wasn't prepared for an assault from every angle. . . but she was almost convinced that it was shifting its musculature around its body, making certain parts hard whilst others were more malleable. . . There was no way to know for sure, not until they came upon the next one and tried to use that observation to their advantage. But a part of her was silently celebrating. She might have just figured out how they could win this war. . .

  27

  From under their very feet

  FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA

  Not long after the first holidaymakers were torn to shreds, and their blood painted the sand, word had spread across the city of the nightmares that stalked the streets. Every road east of 9th Avenue had been evacuated, and the residents watched the live feeds from drones and news helicopters as they followed the paths of three terrifying monsters that had emerged from under their very feet.

  The live footage was interrupted by what seemed like sheet lightning blinding it for a half-second. And when the feed returned, hundreds of men and women clad in black were assembled in Colee Hammock park.

  On the ground, optimism was channelling through the ranks. Cuba had been a success, and as far as they knew, there were no other sightings on the island. The eastern seaboard was the next logical destination, making their way around the United States and Canada, then back around the US, down to South America, heading east to Africa, and up to Europe. They had a plan, and they were going to contain this damn thing one city at a time.