Nine Eyes: Terror From The Deep

by C. J. Waller

  Another bolt of electricity shot down and this time the loch answered. Its waters began to churn, and then swirl, forming a whirlpool, revealing a deep, black chasm. Suspended at its heart on a thin pinnacle of rock was the church, whole and resplendent, its windows gleaming, its walls like new.

  The villagers sang on.

  A ball of light erupted from the church, exploding outwards, sending sparks streaking out to infect the waters of the vortex. Every few seconds they would flash, and the sky would answer. The pressure built further until Brandon’s ears popped and his nose bled. He wanted to scream, to run, to get away from this awful scene, but he knew to do so was forbidden; to do so would doom them all. Those nebulous memories, the ones that had worried at him all night, suddenly opened up and he knew with crystal clarity that he’d been here before, in this very spot, as an infant. Only then, his father was with them. Now he wasn’t.

  And Brandon knew why.

  Chapter Thirty One

  It took everything Paul had to stop himself from turning tail and running, screaming, from that church. He now knew why everything had been ripped out of it, why it was just one big room. It was the only way to fit the whole village in. The constables dragged him and Yolanda to the centre of the congregation, near to where Sadie stood behind the black altar that had so intrigued Piers. Upon it, a black stone pulsed with a malevolent light as threads of dull silver slid over its surface. Every now and again it would subtly change shape, bulging out almost imperceptibly, as if something caged within was seeking to break free. A horrified sense of realisation crawled up from Paul's gut and surged upwards: that was it. That was the gate, the creature's way of entering their world. As if answering him, a volley of cackles echoed round the room from the galley above. His head snapped up, and he saw shambling figures leaning over the balustrade, watching the people below with pale, hungry eyes. One figure in particular held his gaze; a feeling of horrified disgust seized Paul's heart and squeezed hard when it gave him a familiar grin.

  It was Piers.

  But it wasn't Piers. The naked malevolence in its eyes, the sludgy quality of its complexion, the cruel point of its teeth – all this told Paul that whatever animated his body was not Piers. He looked away and discovered many of the villagers were staring at the floor, each one avoiding the taunts of the demons that inhabited the bodies of their long-departed loved ones.

  Sadie held up a hand and said something in that strange language, silencing villager and demon alike. Then, slowly, the congregation peeled back to form a corridor and a litter carried by six villagers was paraded through the gap. Whatever they bore was covered with a tattered blanket. As they lowered it to the ground, it twitched. Paul craned his head forward and watched as they helped whatever it was up from the floor. His breath twisted and caught in his throat when they straightened up to reveal a heavily pregnant woman, her arms slung awkwardly around the shoulders of two of them. Yolanda whispered something under her breath and let out a low, primal moan as the woman limped towards the altar, but there was nothing Paul could do to comfort her. With the clarity of pure horror, he knew what was going to happen next, but was helpless to stop it and could only watch when Sadie Decker stepped up with a black stone knife in her hand.

  The woman shuddered and her belly rippled. Now she was closer, Paul could see why she limped; her left leg was swollen and a mass of writhing tubes snaked from her calf. They twisted around themselves wetly before plunging back into her thigh. A thought tickled the back of his mind, nagging at him, willing him to make the connection, but the pure, visceral nature of what he witnessed made him stupid. It wasn’t until the woman threw her head back in a silent scream that he realised it was Mags.

  The world pulled away, leaving Paul floating in a black void. Nothing existed but himself and Mags. He heard nothing of what Sadie Decker said; did not register the harsh hand that grasped his upper arm as he stumbled towards her; did not feel the damp stone beneath his knees when he was thrown to it. Mags’ head lolled forwards again, strings of her hair spiralling down to obscure her features. What had they done to her? He struggled to his feet again, but before he could take a step, his guardian pulled him back and held him still, one thick arm wrapped around his neck to stop him from interrupting the ritual. He didn't go quietly; he fought against his captor with all his strength, clawing at the arm and lashing out with his legs hoping to catch a knee, or even better, whatever passed for its crotch, but the constable was as iron, hard and unyielding. All the while, Sadie Decker ignored their tussle and continued beseeching the heavens until the entire church was lit up by a blue light. Electricity strobed around the walls until every hair upon Paul’s body stood on end. Sadie then raised the ancient knife above her head, eyes staring madly at the woman held in front of her.

  Exhausted, Paul tried one last time to wriggle free, but he knew it was hopeless. Even if he could fight free, he would be too late to stop this. Unable to look away, he watched as Sadie bent down beside Mags and held the knife to the underside of her swollen belly. For a split second, Paul wondered if he saw pity flash across her face, but if it had been there, it was soon replaced by the stony purpose of concentration. With one swift movement, she drove the point of the knife into Mags abdomen and yanked it back, opening a bloody smile that stretched between her hip bones. Mags’ whole body convulsed as a congealed mass of squirming grey worms spilled from the wound and splattered onto the ground at her feet. They slithered over one another, flopping feebly upon the stone, raising their eyeless, blunt heads in search of their host who had so crudely birthed them, but she was no longer there.

  At last, Paul found his voice.

  “Mags! MAGS!” he screamed as a new source of adrenaline surged through him. Again, he took up kicking and biting, but as before, it was no use.

  She was gone. All that remained was the grey mass of abominations that wriggled on the ground where she once had been.

  Another figure stood forward. This one was taller, their face obscured by a hood. Now everyone fell silent, including Sadie, who bowed and stepped back, away from Mags’ diseased brood and closer to where Paul was being held. Outside, the vortex continued to spin, faster now, but the crashing waters sounded muted, distant, even, and the flickering arcs of electricity paused as if in anticipation.

  The figure stood tall and dropped its hood.

  Decker.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Paul had been half expecting it, but it didn’t stop his body from slumping as all strength fled him. The only thing that stopped him from crumpling to the ground was his guardian’s arm wrapped around his neck.

  After all the weeks of anxiety, of doubting, of fear, Decker now looked steady; peaceful, even. It was as if he now knew exactly what was expected of him and exactly how to do it, and that had driven out all the doubts and fear that had haunted him these past weeks. And in a way, he was right. Whatever this was, this was his purpose. This is what he had come to Dùisg a' Pheacaich to do.

  He could only watch as Decker drew two stones from his robes. He held them above his head, one in each hand, and spoke one short sentence of a gibberish Paul didn’t have a hope in understanding. But the crowd did. The weight of their expectation was suffocating as each one leaned forwards, their eyes staring, their mouths open. Decker then looked over at Paul, found his eyes and mouthed one word: Sorry.

  He smashed the stones together. Outside, the sky split open with a deafening crack and a sheet of blue sparks rained down on the seething mass at his feet. They combusted immediately, a ferocious fire that ate the flesh from their soft, cartilaginous bones as they writhed on the damp stone floor, seeking something, anything, to quell the agony.

  From the loch outside, there came a guttural roar. Paul’s head snapped round to the source, yelping when his neck cricked against the muscle of his captor’s arm. Above them, the roof of the church shuddered and peeled open. Its tiles flew up into the churning sky and its windows blasted out, showering the congregation in
shards of brightly coloured glass. The vortex still swirled around them, but it was now dark; no electricity danced in its walls. Another grunt shook the church to its foundations. The demonic choir on the now-floating gallery yammered and heckled as the clouds parted and a stinking, black fog streamed down, making everyone cough.

  Everyone apart from Decker, that is. He continued to stand still and proud, the stones still in his hands, the fire at his feet still raging.

  The air pressure dropped. Paul’s ears popped painfully. The fog still billowed down, past the church and into the heart of the vortex. A rush of foetid wind followed and the pressure built again. Paul felt something warm trickle from his nose. A deep clunk from below made the crowd take a purposeful step backwards, leaving Decker the only one left standing by the altar.

  A gigantic thump made the ground shake. Everyone jumped. A ripple ran through the fog, splitting it open to reveal the universe. Huge pulsating nebulae of green and red billowed out and a billion tiny pinpricks of light glittered within the swirls of ancient galaxies. More ominous still was the gaping black void at the centre of it all, drawing all light to it, crushing it to nothingness.

  Paul now knew. Now he understood. And, judging by the determined expressions on everyone else’s faces, so did they.

  That was what lay in wait for them if this failed.

  As if answering the black void's call, the stone on the altar pulsed. It floated up and began to spin, slowly at first, but gained speed as it expanded. Its surface shuddered and stretched as whatever it held within its heart fought its way free. Finally, the tip of a claw broke through and shredded its surface, and a jumbled mass of flesh and oil spilled out upon the floor, smothering the funeral pyre of its kin. Great clouds of sulphurous smoke billowed out, making Paul's throat seize, choking him. Within the heart of the smoke, the mass stretched itself out and it began to take shape before their eyes: a huge, vaguely crocodilian head formed with a mouth full of oversized, broken teeth. Nine red eyes blinked balefully at them, and a powerful, serpentine body followed as it leaned down to stare at its congregation. Its arms were elongated and misshapen, with long cancerous-looking tumours dangling from them. It had no legs, but a long, sinuous tail which it wrapped around itself as it hauled itself upright until it loomed over them all. It stared at Decker, who looked so tiny next to this behemoth, but he did not look away. Instead, he raised the stones again.

  The beast sniggered, an unpleasant bubbling sound.

  “Tiny human. You think you can immolate me, as you have done my young? All you have done is return them to me. Now stand tall and fulfil your destiny. My hunger grows, and you know of our pact.”

  As it to prove a point, the beast leaned down and plucked a handful of villagers from the crowd. They screeched as it tossed them into the air, the way a cat might play with a mouse, and caught them easily in its cruel jaws. But it did not bite down; instead, it held them there, trapped within a cage of its teeth. Tiny arms reached out beseechingly to their loved ones, who screamed back with tears streaming down their cheeks, begging Sadie to stop the monster and save them, that this wasn't what was supposed to happen, that they were innocent. As this, the monster snorted in amusement and bit down, turning the people held there to mulch.

  Sadie Decker, her face pained yet calm, nodded towards Decker. He said nothing in reply and gave her a sad smile before raising the stones above his own head. Sadie stared at the God of Nine Eyes.

  The God of Nine Eyes stared back.

  Decker smashed them together again. This time, the sparks cascaded down upon himself.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Sadie threw up her arms again, and the chanting stopped. She shouted something, and a terrible groan emanated from the vortex.

  It was coming.

  Another figure joined Sadie, a hooded figure that stood straight and tall in drab robes made of brown sack cloth. He did not need to remove his hood for Brandon to know that it was his father.

  He stood, mesmerised, as his father took two stones drew two stones from his robe. He held them aloft and spoke a few, unintelligible words. Before he could smash them together, Brandon’s paralysis broke. He ripped his hand from his mother’s grasp and darted forwards, crying, “No! Daddy! No, no, no!”

  The whole village gasped, but no one broke ranks. That was forbidden.

  Sadie Decker, incandescent with fury, tried to intercept him, but Brandon was a fraction of a second quicker. Before she could grab him, Brandon leapt at his father and wrapped his small body around his legs, begging and pleading for him to stop, to not do this, to not leave them.

  John Decker, bereft at the sign of his anguished son’s face, allowed the rocks to tumble from his hands. They struck the ground with a dull thud.

  “Son... no… son… go back to your mother,” he pleaded, wrapping his arms around Brandon. “This has to be done. It has to be. Otherwise all is lost. You must understand. You will understand.”

  “No… Daddy… no,” Brandon panted.

  Another pair of hands, these ones hard and cruel, grasped Brandon’s shoulders and tried to wrench him away. He held on tighter. He would stop this. He would make them stop.

  A guttural roar shook the ground. Instinctively, Brandon looked up, and for the first time in his life, he saw true fear in Sadie Decker’s face.

  “It comes,” she whispered. “We must be ready.” Using that moment of confusion, she pulled Brandon back, away from his father, and flung him to the ground.

  “Daddy!” Brandon sobbed, trying to scrabble forwards, to reach his father once again, but another pair of hands, these ones softer and more familiar, pulled him back.

  “No, son – we must not interrupt,” his mother said.

  “Mammy,” he whimpered.

  “I know,” she said. She bent her head towards his and whispered. “When I say run, run.”

  Together, they filed back towards the edge of the semi-circle and watched as his father picked up the rocks once again. He raised them above his head and looked directly at Brandon before smashing them together. Sparks rained down, igniting the very stones at his feet, and the resulting crash rolled through the valley like thunder.

  All the lights in the vortex went out, and the black stone that sat upon the church's altar began to pulsate and grow. All eyes were on it. No one moved.

  “Run!” his mother whispered.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  The fire ran hungrily over Decker's head, down his arms, along his torso, until his entire body was aflame. Beside him, his grandmother was swaying and chanting. He screamed out one final word before stepping into the smouldering remains of Old Nine Eye's bastard offspring. The fire rekindled and leapt higher, transforming into a pillar of blinding flame that stretched up towards the heavens. The beast hesitated, its nine eyes widened in what Paul could only think of as shock as it recoiled from the blistering heat.

  “No,” it said, its voice louder than thunder. “No! This is not the way!” The God of Nine Eyes swooped down to confront the matriarch of Sinner's Wake. “You have broken the pact. I was promised blood – blood from your line, and the line of your beloved. He is mine! Mine!”

  “No.” Sadie said, triumphantly. “You always forget. Every time this happens we go through this charade. In your greed you called him back – and now he fulfils his purpose.”

  Obeying his grandmother’s instruction, the pillar of flame that was once Brandon Decker floated forwards. The God sneered and coiled its serpentine tail underneath it, ready to strike. Sadie looked back and gave her congregation a self-satisfied smile as her grandson stretched out out his blazing hand to touch the beast, confident that this was it. But before Decker could touch it, the God lashed out, ripping through the blistering heat of his fire to seize his throat.

  The villagers staggered back, aghast. Paul, having no idea how the ritual was supposed to go, turned to Sadie for guidance. She offered him no comfort; her eyes stood staring from their sockets, one hand clutching at he
r horrified mouth.

  “No!” she gasped.

  The God of Nine Eyes laughed and squeezed. The fire guttered and died, leaving Decker dangling from its malformed hand. He scrabbled at his neck in a futile bid to break its grip, but the beast simply smiled, lifted him aloft and dropped him into its open jaws.

  “Brandon!” Both Paul and Yolanda shrieked. Sadie sank to her knees, dumbstruck, but Paul ran forwards, shouting expletives as if that might convince the beast to stop, to release him, to return what was rightfully his. The God ignored him.

  “You were too late,” it said to Sadie. “In your arrogance, you grew complacent. This fragment might forget, but the whole does not.”

  It lifted its eyes heavenwards. The universe shivered as if in recognition and the void at its centre blinked, just once, and Paul was filled with a terrible certainty.

  This was it. The God of Nine Eyes was but an emissary, a small part of something so huge it defied all human understanding. The veil was now gone; their reality, broken. Now there was nothing to hide them from its gaze, no defence against its unfeeling indifference to their tiny existence. It would devour them, not because it was evil, or even hungry, but simply because that is what it did. That is what it had always done, and what it would always do.

  The floor cracked beneath their feet. The vortex froze and began to fragment as time snapped. Matter itself began to dissolve. People screamed as pinpricks of darkness punched through their bodies, pulling them apart at the seams. Some ran for the floating bridge, scrambling over each other, clawing at each other's skin in their desperation, not caring if those they knocked into the ever-growing abyss were friend or foe, young or old.