by C. J. Waller
Through all of it, Sadie Decker did not move. Curled in a ball, she wailed, beseeching the beast to listen to her, to obey, to honour their pact. At this, the God laughed.
Paul staggered over to Yolanda. “Come on!”
She didn't follow. Instead, she raised a hand and pointed at the beast.
“Look,” she breathed.
“Yolanda, come on! We have to get out!” Paul tugged at her arm, but she refused to budge.
“No... seriously... look!” She reached out and grasped his chin, forcing him to look back.
The God of Nine Eyes had stopped laughing and was now staring down at its chest. If he didn't know better, Paul would have said it looked confused. Light shone through the cracks in its scaled armour, building in intensity until it hurt his eyes. Its abdomen swelled and the tumescent growths that hung from its twisted arms smouldered and blackened. It let out a roar and flailed backwards, ripping at its own form in an attempt at quelling the flames that now burst forth from the gaps in its hide.
Sadie stopped her wailing and looked up, her eyes full of a manic glee as the beast began to disintegrate. As the fire ravaged it, it too shrank, down, down, down until it was the size of a man. It trembled so violently that it stumbled forwards. Sadie staggered to her feet and snatched up her knife. She slashed it down with such force that she cleaved what remained of its head from its shoulders, which bounced once before shattering into a thousand pieces. A triumphant smile curled her lips as Decker exploded from the remains of the God of Nine Eyes and smothered them with his righteous fire. As he did so, a low rumble ripped through the night, making what was left of the ground tremble. Its conduit destroyed, the void retreated, clouds swarming in again as the veil was remade, turning the sky from black to blood-red, to orange and then to grey. Another crash, and the altar crumbled to a fine black dust. The vortex span again and what remained of the villagers, bloodied and broken, lifted their heads in disbelief. Finally the pillar of flame that surrounded Decker diminished until it winked out of existence completely.
Everything fell silent. No one moved. Above them, stars winked in existence again and the night sky reasserted itself.
Sadie Decker, her eyes wet with tears, stumbled forwards and threw herself to the floor. By her knees, a crumpled form lay, naked and shivering. It reached up and grabbed her hand, which she dragged up to her lips and kissed fervently. The other hand snaked up and caressed her cheek. The God of Nine Eyes was no more; instead, there was a man, thin and scarred.
“Sadie,” he croaked. “Sadie, my love, my life… this must end. It was so close this time. We cannot risk this again. You must let me go.”
Sadie shook her head furiously and gulped back a sob. “No. Never-”
“You must,” the man interrupted. “You must. What we did was wrong. You know that. And yet you still play this game, sacrificing generation after generation of our own blood to trick the beast and keep me alive-”
“They don’t matter!” Sadie keened. “All that matters is us. I can't survive without you. You can’t leave me.”
“No. Sadie, my love... we can’t go on like this. If you let me go, let me die, the demon has no vessel to inhabit. Keep me here and it will keep coming back. Next time, it might succeed. It pushed me to my limits tonight. I cannot hold it back again. One day, there will be no blood left, and then what will you do? Nothing will stir me and it will break free.”
Callum Decker, Brandon Decker’s distant Grandfather, lay back against the cold stone and sighed.
“I’m ready to go. Do it,”
Sadie shook her head again. “No. I can’t. I can’t. If you die, I die too and we will forever be separated by death. We will never be together again. Even these fleeting moments are better than that.”
“How do you know?” Callum said. “How do you know we will never be together again? My love, I am exhausted – and I know you are, too. We’ve both been alive, after a fashion, for too damn long… we’ve condemned an entire town, sacrificed our own children’s blood, risked bringing great evil to the world… and for what? So we can spend a few moments together again?”
“But these moments are everything to me. We should have had more. The demon lied – it said it would show us everything and that we would be together forever-”
“Yes, I know, my love, I know. It lied. That’s what demons do. They lie. But, let's be fair – I lied. You did, too. What we did was selfish. What you continue to do, even more. I am so tired, so weary of this half-life, this poor excuse of existence. It needs to end, Sadie my dear, and it needs to end now. This time. Please. Just do it. Before it comes back and I do not have the strength to ask again.”
Sadie stroked her husband’s head, tears now streaming down her face. In a way, Paul couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She’d lost her husband to the demon and the only way to see him was to summon it and destroy it, albeit temporarily… but at what cost? He looked at what remained of the villagers; each one wore a conflicted expression of both pity and hatred. They knew no other life, true… but to keep doing this, to keep sacrificing their children, just so she could see her husband? That was wrong, and they knew it. He wondered how many other times they had clustered around this spot, waiting, willing for Sadie Decker to do the right thing, knowing that no one could stop her from making her selfish choice over and over, putting her happiness ahead of their needs time and time again… knowing that no matter how much they wanted to plunge a dagger into her blackened heart, they couldn’t as she was the only one who could lead the ritual and prevent the beast from escaping and devouring the world.
She bent forwards, the weight of their judgement too much to bear, and pulled Callum in her arms. Jealousy, treacle thick and dripping with resentment, rose within Paul. Even now, he could tell she was hesitating, putting herself before those whose lives she had wrecked. She might not see her husband often, but at least she still had that chance, that hope. Every single other person here didn't. They'd all lost someone they cared about, never to be seen again. Today, he joined their ranks. Whilst Sadie crooned and stroked Callum's wispy hair, Paul balled his fists up at the injustice of it all. There she was, alive and whole, and just in front of her was a pile of ashes that had once been Brandon-
He paused. His heart gave one, huge thud.
Did he just see movement?
The ashes stirred and a hand reached up, blackened and scorched, followed by a head. Paul staggered over to it, not caring that the villagers gasped and murmured at such a break in etiquette. He scrabbled at the mound of ashes, uncovering Brandon’s withered body. His breath came out in hitched sobs as he pulled him clear and cradled him close like a child. He had no idea how he lived – every part of his body was burned to a crisp, his skin cracking and weeping, but he didn’t care. Sadie and her husband stopped and watched as Paul murmured words of love and understanding to Brandon. His breathing degenerated into nothing more than a rasp, Paul knew the end was near. Sheer will alone had kept Brandon alive long enough to say goodbye, to feel the touch of his love’s skin against his own before he could die. He smiled.
“I love you. I’m sorry.”
He fell back, limp. With his final breath, Brandon’s body crumbled to dust.
Chapter Thirty Five
Brandon didn’t hesitate. All attention was fixed on the monstrous shape forcing its way out of the stone and into their world, and so no one was in the right frame of mind to stop them.
There were a few shouts when his mother barged past the slack-jawed villagers, but she plunged on, one hand gripping Brandon’s like her life depended on it. In many ways, it probably did. He tried to match her stride, but his legs were too short and he stumbled more than once. Each time, she yanked him up and continued on. This made his arm ache, but he never once complained.
They raced up the floating stone bridge, never once looking down or up, just straight ahead, towards their goal. The black hole leered down over them as a growing roar shook the church, followed by a st
rident shout. Brandon couldn’t make it out, but he knew it was Grandma Sadie. A flash of light illuminated the trees that bordered the loch, and for a split second, Brandon saw the horrors that accompanied the demon; evil, misshapen byblows of its foul design. Some had more eyes than legs; others had more mouths filled with needle-sharp teeth that erupted from random parts of their bodies. The only thing they had in common was that all bore no resemblance to anything natural. One leapt at them, its long legs scrabbling at his mother’s head. She let out a shriek and batted it away with her free hand, snapping one of its limbs as she did so. It hit the ground with a squelch, its body bursting like ripe fruit. Other things swooped down and fell upon it, devouring its stinking innards; others, emboldened by its kin’s attempts at waylaying them, flung themselves at Brandon and his mother, trying to bring them down so they might feast.
Brandon’s mother shrieked again, but this time it had nothing to do with fear. Pure rage, the primal fury only a mother knows, surged out of her as she ripped the creatures away from her and her son. She threw them to the floor, stamping down on the ones who still moved, grinding their flabby bodies under her heel. Spurred on by his mother’s bravery, Brandon grasped one that had become entangled in his hair; it felt both soft and slimy in his hand, and a shudder of disgust coursed through him as he threw it away from him as hard as he could.
Wary now, the monsters hesitated; some skittered up to their fallen brood and started to feed; others hung back and watched Brandon and his mother once again run through the trees and towards the road. Another flash of light illuminated the night, accompanied by another foul roar. Brandon dared to glance back; a pillar of pure white light now reached the heavens, piercing the sky, banishing the shadows back to whence they came. The God of Nine Eyes roared again, but it now sounded in pain, almost mournful. The light pulsed, and the shadows that made up its infernal body caught alight, sending a shower of sparks heavenwards. The clouds rolled back and the void disappeared from view.
And Brandon knew that his father was gone.
His mother let out a great sob, but continued running. The road was in sight now. The demon temporarily banished, Grandma Sadie would have her way, but then it would seep back into the world, for the vessel was still alive in its own diminished way.
Brandon, only seven years old didn’t know how he knew this, but he did. He also knew no matter how far they ran, no matter how hard he tried to fight, the day would come when the demon would call to him and he would take his father’s place, like his father before him, and his father before him. Like every member of his family eventually did.
Everyone apart from Grandma Sadie, of course.
Chapter Thirty Six
Paul gathered the dust that had once been Brandon Decker and let out one, last, furious sob. He looked up at Sadie, his eyes filled with hatred.
“He did this because of you. I have lost my love because you cannot let go of yours. Brandon lost his father – his mother lost her husband. I wonder, how many people here can tell the same tale?” He flung his arm out and gestured to the crowds. A murmur of agreement rippled through it. He said what they all had thought, but never dared voice.
Sadie’s countenance grew stony. “How dare you. Our love stretches over centuries, born of blood and sacrifice, a mighty oak compared to the damselfly of your life. How dare you!”
“How dare I?” Paul wrenched himself to his feet and towered over Sadie Decker, his eyes blazing. “How dare I? Your selfishness knows no bounds! You damned this entire town due to your own petty desires. You both should have lived your lives, raised your families, then died, together. Instead, you condemned everyone here to this living hell so you could continue on. I can't even begin to think what was going through your head when you thought this was a desirable alternative to natural death.”
“No! I won't hear it... I won't listen... It wasn’t natural – he was ill… we wanted to find a cure, a way to avoid it…”
Callum Decker reached up with a shaky hand to stroke his wife’s hair. She was no longer the iron-willed harridan that ruled Dùisg a' Pheacaich with a fist of stone, but a grieving old woman with nothing left to live for. Still, Paul could find no pity within himself to spare her. She had used the town’s folk as commodities to bargain with, her own flesh and blood as the means to an end. For this, there could be no forgiveness.
“Sadie… Oh Sadie, my girl… you still believe that? That is not true. I wanted to know the secrets of the universe, and I paid the price. Even my illness was self inflicted. Listen to him. He speaks the truth. You know it. I know it. I am tired. End this curse. We should have known nothing in this life is free. He has shown courage to cut through the demon’s lies. Please. End it. End it now.”
Sadie sat back on her heels and lifted her face to the sky. Her whole body shook with grief. The villagers stared, as silent as the grave and Paul couldn't help but wonder: how many times had they done this? How many times had they stood here whilst Sadie Decker wrestled with her conscience?
“Please.”
The amount of pain in Callum Decker’s last entreaty brought fresh tears to Paul’s eyes.
“Don’t let Brandon’s sacrifice be in vain,” Paul whispered.
Sadie let out a shuddering sigh. From her robes she drew out the black stone knife and laid it on the ground. Then she reached over and gathered the stones Decker had used to start the cleansing blaze. With a stone in each hand, she held them up high and whispered the same words Brandon had screamed out at the demon and slammed the rocks together. Sparks flew, engulfing both her and Callum. The inferno caught quickly, the ferocity of its heat forcing Paul back, away from them, but he was still close enough to see Sadie pick up the knife again and plunge it deep into Callum’s chest.
There was a shriek, followed by a rush of blistering air that swept over the congregation. It whipped up the flames, twisting them into unholy forms, sending them spiralling upwards. Beneath their feet, the ground trembled. No one spoke as the remaining inhabitants of Dùisg a' Pheacaich turned tail and fled the church, up the precarious stone bridge and out onto the safety of the shore. Paul was the last to leave. He turned to watch as the fire burned out, leaving no trace of Sadie or Callum. The waters forming the vortex slackened and Paul knew it was time to leave or be drowned. Slabs of stone fell away under his feet as he raced up the bridge, crashing into the waters below and more than once, he feared he would not make it. But he did, the last stone falling away as he raced onto the bank.
With a rush, the loch settled back to its former self, its surface once again calm. Except now, no steeple pierce its surface.
Like its keeper, the Church had gone.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Like lost children waking from a nightmare, the villagers regarded their surroundings in bewilderment. Gone was the carefully maintained illusion of the town, replaced by the derelict reality. Buildings they had dwelt in, raised families in, safe from the ravages of time, now stood as wrecks, their walls crumbled, their roofs lost.
What happened to them after that fateful night, no one knows. Once again the name of Dùisg a' Pheacaich was lost to the mists of time, consigned to nothing more than folk legend and an uneasy sense of forbidden things made flesh.
o0o
Almost fluorescent streaks of pink and orange slashed the night sky, heralding the birth of a new day. Tomorrow had finally arrived.
Paul and Yolanda sat by the water's edge, both lost in their own little worlds of loss and shock. Nothing remained of St Machan's; it was as if it had never existed. But that didn't mean it was gone. It had burned an indelible mark on both of them, and for that reason alone they both knew it would never truly die.
It took them until the sun was comfortably up to find the energy to move. They trudged back up to the skeleton of Dùisg a' Pheacaich and tried to find their vehicles, but they too had been caught up with time reasserting itself, rusting them to useless lumps of metal. A hollow sense of impotence filled Paul. That just a
bout topped everything off. Well, it would be something people might puzzle over in years to come, if nothing else
It also meant they were reduced to hitch-hiking, which was hard given the remoteness of the now dead town. They saw no-one as they plodded down the broken road; maybe they too had faded away to nothing, ghosts of another place, another time, unsuited to this world, doomed to wander the Highlands forever. Neither of them could even begin to speculate. All they knew is that both of them had sprouted a few grey hairs, and a few new wrinkles had been added to their foreheads and around their eyes. Not that they talked about it. Neither of them spoke at all. What could they say? Talking about it meant admitting it, and admitting it meant it had to be real, and neither of them were quite ready to broach that obstacle right now.
A solid drizzle settled over the moors, misting the ground and soaking their clothes, They still walked on. Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached a proper road, one that was maintained and smelled of oil and bitumen, a living road with living smells. It was only then they could finally breathe more easily. They’d escaped. Sadie Decker's curse no longer held sway over them.
There were still no signs of traffic, though. It dawned on them that even though the road was maintained, the area was still remote. It might be hours – days, even – before they might come across anyone, and even then they weren't guaranteed a lift. In a way, it would be a fittingly ignoble end, to escape the horrors of Dùisg a' Pheacaich only to die of exposure on a Scottish hillside.
The light around them dimmed and the damp turned cold. Even though they wore thick fleeces, they still felt it. Night would come soon, and they both muttered private prayers that someone – anyone – would pass them by and offer them a lift before that happened.
