‘That was the original purpose, but since the church was abandoned it’s become the entrance.’
Bayliss took a step backwards. ‘Entrance to what?’
Carter called the others forwards. ‘That’s what we’re going to find out.’
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
An odor of dead things wafted through the gray air, seeping into their clothes, making their eyes water.
There was only faded light coming from the far end of the church, behind the ruined altar. The rest of the interior of the ancient building was cloaked in darkness, from the night and from the memories of past deeds. Spirits of evil danced around them, unseen, touching their faces like a soft summer breeze, but tainting and taunting them, mocking their readiness for what lay beneath the ground.
Carter led them. He had confined his thoughts of Jane to a locked compartment in his brain, sure it would be opened, and stay open, when this was over, but determined to focus all his powers on fighting the good fight.
He had risked probing with his mind, sending his psychic swords into the opening behind the light. There had been fierce energy, flashing and fizzing without restraint, but ill defined, just a mass of uncoordinated movement.
Together, as a group, they reached the back of the church and entered the small damp room that used to serve the various clergy as a changing and store room. Dusty shelves against the walls were empty now of everything apart from mouse droppings. The floor was strewn with leaves and mould, the combination making it slippery underfoot.
In here it was apparent where the source of the light was coming from. The end wall had a fissure in it several feet wide; it was only still standing because it leant drunkenly on the sturdy side walls. Through the break in the wall there shined a bright white light that seemed artificial in its intensity.
‘Where the hell is the light coming from?’ Bayliss asked.
‘Hell might be right,’ McKinley said.
Carter placed his hand on one edge of the cracked wall. It felt cold to the touch, like a long-buried corpse. The light was intense but it wasn’t blinding, and he was able to see beyond it. He could see rough sides of what looked like a long stone tunnel that sloped downwards so that he could only see the first few yards before darkness took over.
‘There’s a tunnel,’ he said.
‘Do we have to go down it?’ Kirby said, and the tone of her voice gave its own response.
There was a sound like knuckles crunching and the front door of the church fell off its hinges and crashed to the ground.
‘There’s your answer, if you needed one,’ Carter said.
The remainder of the portion of the roof over the main body of the church dropped to the floor and gray dust billowed upwards like empty shrouds tossed in the air.
Carter looked at McKinley and the big American nodded.
McKinley lightly took hold of Bayliss’s shoulder and Carter gently folded his arm around Kirby’s waist. As a group, shoulder to shoulder, they stepped through the gap in the wall and entered the light.
The white light swallowed them as if they had stepped into the belly of a whale. The tunnel sides dripped with moisture, but it was warm inside. Under their feet the floor was uneven but dry, the stone worn and smooth.
Behind them they could hear masonry crumbling as the remains of the church tumbled like so many old building bricks abandoned by a child, the purpose of them forgotten and insignificant.
The deeper they moved into the tunnel the less bright seemed the light. The tunnel began to meander in all directions, snakelike, but constantly it took them downwards. In places it widened so they could stand in pairs, but for the most part they had to move along in single file. They were all wrapped up in their own thoughts, occasionally noticing the strange chiseled marks on the stone walls that probably meant something if they had had the ability to interpret them.
It was getting colder and their breath started to mist in front of them. The floor became more uneven, the ridges in the stone higher and more likely to catch a careless step. Water dripped from tiny faults in the walls, the stone beneath it green with algae. Once or twice they came to a fork where it was almost uncertain which direction to take, but each time Carter moved them forwards, certain he knew the way. No one doubted him.
‘What will we do if the light fades completely?’ Kirby said, but no one wanted to reply. They were all too busy trying to stay calm, trying to keep fear at bay.
And then the tunnel came to an abrupt end in the shape of a brass-hinged oaken door.
Then the light went out and it was totally dark.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Carter took control.
Darkness wrapped itself around them, an ardent lover, whispering and caressing, stroking and claiming.
‘Everyone hold hands,’ Carter said calmly.
Behind them, back in the entrance to the tunnel, clawed feet could be heard crackling over the stone floor.
Do it.
McKinley spoke the words directly into Carter’s mind.
Strange high-pitched sounds were filling the tunnel, pursuing; Carter opened his mind.
Drawing on the others, especially Kirby and McKinley, he sent rhythmic pulses scattering down the tunnel, drawing on the strength of each of them, pulling out from them what he needed. The pulses met dozens of small masses of resistance.
‘I’d guess it’s the beetles that attacked when I was with Sian,’ he said.
McKinley turned his attention to the door barring their way. ‘Let’s see if we can get through this.’
It was difficult in the dark but his hand located the handle, and he feathered the fingers outwards on the wood so he could feel across to the lock.
‘There’s no key.’ He turned the handle. The door opened inwards.
Kirby screamed.
Beetles had leeched onto her neck, needling into the skin, trying to burrow inside.
Bayliss grabbed her arms, propelled her round so she was facing away from him, then slapped her hard on the back. He sensed rather than saw her body as it lurched forwards. She stopped herself from hitting the wall by bracing her arms against the rock.
Some of the beetles had fallen off as he slapped her. Now he ripped off as many as he could locate on her neck and shoulders.
Carter took Kirby by the hand. ‘Come on,’ he said.
With McKinley pulling at Bayliss they pushed at the open door, shutting it behind them as dozens of the rattling beetles scraped against the other side.
‘Are there any still on you?’ Bayliss said.
Kirby shook her head. She was quivering with terror.
You’ll be fine. You did well.
Carter injected the words into her brain and she smiled. She hadn’t done well at all, she knew that. If it hadn’t been for Bayliss she’d have let the things…she pushed the thoughts out of her mind.
‘Thanks, Nick,’ she said.
‘I never did like creepy crawlies.’
This side of the door the air was warmer, slightly stale, as if it was a long-closed cellar. The tunnel was still evident but it was wider, opening up like a river delta. The floor was still stone but smoother; more care had been taken when it was built.
That was the conclusion Carter couldn’t expel from his mind. This had all been built. He hesitated to use the phrase ‘man-made’ because he suspected man had very little to do with the construction. He was in no doubt that the natural ley lines that flowed beneath the island had been amplified over the years by what ever had used them as a line of transport.
They moved slowly along, feeling the walls with their hands, noticing the rock was becoming less rough as the tunnel progressed. Gradually light began to filter around them, so visibility became easier.