The voice, when deMarco spoke, was, like the body, devoid of the cultured façade he had adopted. ‘How the devil are you, Carter? Welcome to my future.’
Without warning Carter felt his left arm rise from his side until it was pointing at right angles to his shoulder. Then the right arm did the same until he was standing in front of the altar, his arms outstretched as if crucified.
‘An undignified pose I grant you; but it serves my purpose,’ deMarco said.
Bayliss was terrified but brave enough to step between deMarco and Carter. When he was closer to Carter he could see the effort and energy he was extending to resist. ‘You’re not Satan,’ he said. His tone was challenging, hiding the fear he felt. ‘Nothing I’ve read about you suggested anything other than you as an acolyte, another wannabe Satanist with delusions of grandeur.’
DeMarco laughed, a brittle sound of torn metal. He flashed his red eyes and Bayliss slumped to his knees, the pain in his chest so fierce he could hardly breathe. ‘Hurts, doesn’t it? That’s just the onset of the pain you’ll feel in about ten years when the lung cancer spreads to your liver. If you live that long. You really should have given up the cigarettes and the whisky, you know; don’t you read the packets? Smoking kills…’
Carter was being held and stretched. His arms were flung wide now, his chest straining against the force holding him.
Most of the people in the pews were released by now, and they stood with the others freed from the walls in a vast crowd, expectant, swaying slightly. The shrouded figures were placed at intervals on the periphery of the crowd, ready to herd them when deMarco instructed.
Kirby was helping Bayliss to his feet, pain and breathlessness etching lines into his face that hadn’t been there before. McKinley was delicately trying to probe inside Carter’s mind, feeling for the force that was controlling him.
‘Nick Bayliss is regrettably correct. Although I do seem to fit most of the characteristics, I am but a humble servant. Loyal and determined but a mere employee; and with few corporate benefits either…ah, well, eternal life has its compensations I suppose. But down to business; I needed you, Carter, for your mind; linking it with mine, along the Ley we are standing on will allow me to generate sufficient power to summon…you called him Satan, Bayliss. I call him Father.’
With sudden speed deMarco stalked down the aisle and grasped Carter’s left hand. The sparks that flew when their skin touched were like a power cable striking water. Carter flinched as if a dozen knives were penetrating his spine, and his organs felt as if they were swelling within him as the surge from deMarco began to build.
Before McKinley could attack him deMarco shouted to the gray-shrouded creatures at the back of the cathedral and seven or eight of them leapt upon McKinley, pinning his arms to the ground, covering his face with the drapes of their robes.
‘And now we can begin the Ascent,’ deMarco said, elation tingeing his voice.
As Carter braced himself, searching for an opening to exert resistance, there was a loud crash and one wall of the cathedral burst open, like the parting of the Red Sea. Through the wall poured hundreds of people, some holding incense burners, others flicking water from ornate containers, others reciting passages from the Bible.
With their attention diverted McKinley took his opportunity to free himself, his large frame and strength easily overpowering the bony creatures.
Carter felt deMarco yield and he managed to loosen the grip, but the force holding him in place was too strong and his arms remained outstretched, even when deMarco released his hand, watching as the wave of people flooded the cathedral.
The cathedral was now awash with people. Those nakedly released from storage milled zombielike, spilling out along the pews as the newcomers marched in, forcing the others back.
The shrouded followers of deMarco massed in front of them, two forces setting themselves for battle. Prowling like a caged tiger deMarco walked a few feet one way, turned, and stormed back. He was searching the intruders for someone he knew would be there; someone who had to be there.
Then he saw him. ‘Meyer!’ he shouted. ‘Klaus Meyer.’
‘The German,’ Bayliss said.
‘Muscular Christianity,’ Kirby murmured.
McKinley shook his head. ‘That isn’t any German. I’ve seen that guy’s picture in magazines back home. That’s Carl Anderson. He’s the father of Jessica Anderson, the woman Crozier introduced to us.’
An uncertain silence fell over the cathedral.
Meyer motioned his troops to be still and wait. He walked past the shrouded guards and advanced on deMarco. For his part deMarco moved past the font to meet him.
With a guttural growl of greeting, deMarco said, ‘Klaus Meyer, after all these years.’
Meyer gave a small inclination of his head and shoulders in a bow of acknowledgement. ‘I’ve gone by the name of Carl Anderson for the past sixty or so years, a successful businessman in America. Before that I was Clint Sybert, a respected surgeon working out of Canada. Before that I was in Europe, but these details are not of importance.’
With a wave of his hand deMarco offered disagreement. ‘On the contrary old friend…’
Meyer took two steps forward, his temples throbbing with anger. ‘Do not, ever, call me friend. You feign genuine surprise to see me, but we both know you’ve been stalking me all these years, as I have done you. My life has been long and under the protection of the papal authorities it has been prosperous.’
‘How is your lovely daughter?’
‘Jessica was a wonderful daughter in many ways but she was under your spell since the day she was born. I always knew it but she was my only daughter, and I loved her, even though I knew her every action was to serve you. It took much pleading with His Holiness to allow it, but eventually I was able to recruit women into my Jesuit order. So long as they remained a separate order the break with tradition was overlooked. My sister Celeste Toland formed the Sorority and Jessica joined eagerly, imagining I expect that she would be pleasing you by keeping close to the enemy. That is what you made my own daughter, deMarco, my enemy. No one ever suspected, not even Jessica, that Celeste and I are siblings; we managed to exude a facade of personal loathing. To the outside world we disliked each other intensely. Celeste and I did business together but because of our supposed hatred for one another, Jessica conducted those transactions. It helped Celeste keep track of what Jessica was doing in recent months. Perhaps having a fling with her was taking things a bit far, but Celeste gets wrapped up in her work.’
‘And the ladies are with you?’
‘All except Jessica; she can’t attend, she didn’t have time to send her regrets. But as you can see from my many companions, you are not the only one who has been assembling an army of followers.’
Carter tried once more to free himself but deMarco still held him firm. His whole left side was frozen by what ever power deMarco was exerting on him. Then, without warning, Carter felt a fierce surge down the right side of his body. Another force was joining in the control of him. As the right side and the left side burned with the intrusion it felt as if his body was being pulled in different directions.
Meyer had joined deMarco and they were using Carter’s powers as a conduit; battle had commenced. Meyer pulling in one direction, deMarco in the other.
DeMarco turned his back on Meyer; it was the signal. Heavy black rain began to fall from the ceiling, pricking skin with needle-sharp points where it touched. The floor began to vibrate, and then started to ripple like waves upon the shore.
The gray shrouds of deMarco’s followers were discarded and the winged demons that hid within were unleashed. They whipped and prodded the naked soldiers from the pews, urging them forward against the Jesuits.
Celeste issued her instructions and the well-drilled army deployed itself into position and began the fighting. Both sides had prepared for centuries, and neither would be satisfied with surrender.
The cathedral was filled with screams as blo
od spilled onto the stone floor, soaking into it as if into tissue paper. The light flooding through the stained-glass windows was like spotlights onto a stage, picking out thrusts of swords, slashes of claws. Everywhere were performances of hatred and anger. Limbs were severed, throats torn, as two beasts of armies clambered over each other.
On one side of Carter stood Meyer, on the other side stood deMarco. As deMarco thrust his power into Carter’s mind, trying to unlock the psychic strength, so Meyer probed, seeking to gain control so that he could send this Satanist back to the depths from which he was trying to summon further demons.
As the twin forces pulsed through his body Carter seemed to glow, his skin translucent. His back arched from the pain pulsing through him.
Carter could feel the ley line beneath his feet swelling and moving like an electric cable. Both deMarco and Meyer were trying to harness it to bring ever more troops into play. He was summoning all his strength to keep his abilities locked away so that neither side could use them. If weakened, he wouldn’t be able to predict what effect his powers allied to theirs would have.
He could feel the Ley expanding; something large was moving along it. He remembered what deMarco had called it, Father…
Suddenly Carter felt Meyer’s influence lessen. He opened his eyes and saw a flour-white and spindle-thin demon latched onto Meyer’s back, pulling his hands away from Carter’s. Like a hungry animal deMarco pounced. He shot bolts of electric energy through Carter’s arm, up along his spine and into his skull. The sparks flashed over his brain causing pain and confusion. With a roar of triumph deMarco pinned Carter’s consciousness and directed their joint powers into the opening of the ley line.
The lights dimmed, the candles fluttered, and the warring armies momentarily halted battle. Tongues of flame flicked from the dark opening of the Ley. The stench of open graves wafted out, as a black cloud of flies hovered over the entrance. And something very large began to force itself into the cathedral.
Carter felt a bolt of lightning enter his head, the pain so intense his heart seemed to shrink inside his chest.
It’s always been you, Robert.
On the altar Jane Talbot was sitting cross-legged, her eyes closed, her full attention on Carter.
I can’t compare with that but I can help.
McKinley had made Bayliss and Kirby hide down beneath a front pew, and he was standing beside Meyer.
The ley line had ripped open and claws more than six feet in length were scrabbling to gain entrance.
Carter, using McKinley and Jane, directed a fierce pulse of energy at the demon attacking Meyer and within moments it was killed.
As the immense head and shoulders emerged as if from the womb of the Ley, and the army of deMarco renewed battle with revitalized vigor, so Carter pulled in the others and for the first time he opened his mind fully. It was a risk, as deMarco was still there, but he moved quickly.
Jane was as powerful as Carter had predicted she would be. With McKinley using his power to the full they began slowly but systematically to repel deMarco. Piercing him with combined surges of psychic energy they gradually weakened him until he dropped away from Carter’s mind, and within moments dropped Carter’s hand. He was no longer in control.
DeMarco was on his knees, damaged, but he was crawling towards Jane.
Meyer was concentrating. There was a blinding light from above. It was as if the ceiling had evaporated and un-filtered sunlight was pouring down on them. It had a dramatic affect on deMarco’s followers. The naked conscripts folded at the knees and fell forwards as the bindings of darkness that had held them in suspended death dissolved and left them to their natural passing. The gray demons shrieked as the skin bubbled and flaked off them in the intense heat and brightness of the light.
The Jesuits recognized the source of the light and revered it, but took strength from its purpose and seized their victory.
As the brightness intensified so the ley line began to shrink, and as if cowering away from the pure source of the light the huge entity that had sought freedom slunk back to the dark depths.
The battle lasted a few moments more before stillness insinuated into the cathedral. The intense light receded and Celeste began shepherding her army away.
Carter and McKinley helped Jane from the altar. Her face was drained of color but to Carter she had never looked more beautiful.
Meyer said, ‘If you come with me there’ll be transport back to London, although even for the Department I think your report is going to make waves.’
‘You may want to file your own report first. Crozier thinks he’s God but your boss takes precedence.’
Meyer held out his hand and Carter shook it.
‘I’m afraid Sian Davies is amongst those who didn’t survive. Like my daughter she’s one of deMarco’s victims.’
‘So am I the only one concerned?’ Bayliss demanded. ‘There’s no sign of Alphonse anywhere.’ Kirby put her hand on his shoulder but he shrugged her off.
Meyer sighed. ‘It shouldn’t involve you anymore but I’ll track him down. If he escaped I’ll find him. He’s alone now.’
Carter looked at the others, felt Jane’s hand tighten in his.
‘We’re professionals. When we start a job we like to finish it.’
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We would like to thank Don and the fantastic team at Leisure for another stunningly produced novel. The cover artwork is great and the process of delivery of manuscript to finished book is a real pleasure.
Many thanks to Mario Guslandi for his prepublication reading and review.
Grateful thanks to Clare Sims and Emily Sims who helped and inspired Mick with his part of the writing, revisions, editing, proofing, promotion — well, all of what he did really.
Len did all his hard work all on his own.
Huge thanks to Iain Maynard for the marvelous new website and the appearance of what seems a worrying new website with links to it.
Finally thank you to everyone who took the time to review, blog or just tell us what they thought of Shelter and Demon Eyes. All feedback is like oxygen.
Critics Rave About L. H. Maynard and M. P. N. Sims!
“Maynard and Sims write with a voice that is both uniquely entertaining and profoundly disturbing. Their fiction reflects classic old-school style themes told with a decidedly modern perspective.”
— Brian Keene, author of Dead Sea
“Maynard and Sims make readers accept terrible denizens from nightmare as casual fact.”
— Cemetery Dance
“Maynard and Sims write with a fluid, graceful style and know how to involve the reader in their story.”
— Masters of Terror
“Reminiscent of the work of Ramsey Campbell.”
— Gothic Net
“Maynard and Sims know what makes a horror story tick.”
— Shivers
“L. H. Maynard and M. P. N. Sims are a duo of talent to be reckoned with.”
— The Horror Review
“L. H. Maynard and M. P. N. Sims write a true horror story that will scare the heck out of readers.”
— The Best Reviews
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Black Cathedral (department 18) Page 27
