"Yer mum… she aye calmed me tae reason. I'm a stubborn auld fool, aye have been, but maybe I can change. If ye let me, maybe I can even right a few wrongs afore they bury me, aye?"
Angus nodded. "Well said, brother Knight."
Brandy moved to her father, but Alban, not sure how to react, cut her off with a half hug, half pat on the head. "Okay, listen now, the two o' ye are stayin' here, only I'll be accompanyin' Angus below."
True started to object, but his father's scowl ended the discussion.
Entering the fireplace, Alban reached into the shaft. Securing the two ends of the rope, he stepped carefully out onto the platform. "Been a while since I've done this. Come on then, brother Wallace, yer laddie needs oor help."
"Wait, Angus, take these." True handed him the two G-SHOKs, quickly showing him how to set the fuses.
Angus pocketed the explosives, checked his flashlights, then eased himself into the shaft next to Alban, grabbing the right side of the rope.
The two Black Knights of the Templar released the cable, allowing the counterweight balancing the lift to lower them slowly into the darkness.
They were everywhere, circling in the stagnant waters of the aquifer, crawling behind me along the rocks, creeping out from the shadows. Anguilla eels… dozens, perhaps hundreds of them. Saliva gurgled in the back of their throats, the high-pitched sounds received in my headpiece as whispers.
I yelled as loud as I could, hoping to scare them off, but the helmet muted my sounds, and the lesions in their brains made them immune. I needed to do something and fast.
My lights flickered again and then sparks sizzled behind me. The eels were chewing at the connecting wires of my backpack!
With a grunt, I lashed my mechanical arms at them, the limited range of motion rendering the gestures useless.
Should have listened to Brandy… should've listened to True. But noooo, you had to be a tough guy, had to face your fears like brave fucking Sir William. Idiot! Did the thought ever occur to you that maybe the dreams were a warning not to come down here?
My eyes caught movement. Quickly, I adjusted the angle of my dimming forward beam.
In the fading light I could see the milky gray surface of the river and a pair of yellow eyes as they slid back into the water like those of a stalking crocodile.
The Guivre was biding its time, waiting for my lights to fail.
Okay, Wallace, think! The eels probably chewed through the umbilical cord, so it's just a matter of minutes before the entire backpack fails.
The thought of being cast into total darkness with these predators was even more frightening to me than dying. I still had the explosives, but the weight of the Newt Suit made it impossible to toss the mini-bombs.
I realized I had to climb out of my protective armor.
Releasing the smaller hand-held light, I felt along my aluminum skin's waistline with both sets of pincers and removed the utility belt holding the charges. After a great struggle I managed to release the backpack's harness.
The heavy propeller assembly fell away from my shoulders and crashed behind me, the noise sending several of the Anguilla wriggling across the rocks.
Now I was down to one dull light.
With trembling hands, I forced open the snaps on the latches securing the two sections of the Newt Suit together.
Retracting my arms from the metal sleeves, I pushed up on the inside of my headgear. With a hiss, the upper torso of the dive suit gave way, separating from the lower half.
Sucking in a few breaths, I stood in the suit, shoulder-pressing the weight of the ADS's upper torso off my shoulders, then carefully laying it on the ground next to me in case I chose a hasty retreat.
Inhaling a dank breath of air, I climbed out of the lower half of the ADS, then snatched up my handheld light, scanning the perimeter.
The eels gurgled at me from the shadows, their bright eyes luminescent in my beam.
I was terrified and totally exposed. The air in the chamber was stale and acrid, making it almost impossible to breathe without coughing.
The light flickered and dimmed to half its remaining candlepower.
My blood seemed to chill within my veins.
The eels slithered toward me from the shadows.
I started choking uncontrollably, the chamber spinning in my head. Shining my handheld light on the broken backpack, I tore away a canister of air, holding it up to my face to breathe.
The Anguilla eels close to the water's edge scrambled for cover as the Guivre emerged from the river, its gruesome collection of teeth dripping lengths of saliva.
A thick coat of slime coated its head, mane, and serpent's neck, and in the dimming circle of light I saw the colors of the spectrum briefly shimmer.
Colors?
I inhaled deeply, confirming the heavy scent.
It was oil! And it was everywhere, dripping down from the ceiling, coating the river.
I searched the ground for the utility belt… where the hell was it? There, beneath the upper portion of the Newt Suit!
My light blinked off, and I desperately banged it, momentarily resuscitating the beam.
The monster's head rose higher, the creature using its forward pectoral fins to glide its snakelike torso from out of the stagnant waters, while the eels slithered out from the crags of rocks behind me!
I kicked bones and rock at one hissing eel as I tore a G-SHOK cylinder and cap from the belt. Snapping them together, I tossed the armed explosive at the stagnant pool of water, then ducked.
Wa-boosh!
A flash of white light, and then a wave of searing heat scorched my face as I was slammed backward against the rock face.
For a long moment I remained curled in a ball, my throbbing head ringing like a bell.
Get up, dipshit! Open your eyes!
I shook the cobwebs from my brain and sat up, choking on the thick air. Anguilla eels were darting this way and that, and through my blurred vision, I could see a few of their dark hides blazing in flames.
The pool of water was on fire, as was the ceiling, and the fissure above the collapsed section of tunnel on my far left belched blue flames.
The Guivre was gone, but I could see its telltale air bubbles and current as it glided underwater, moving toward the opposite shore.
The blaze began to extinguish, all but that one precious blue flame that burned along the ceiling above the dam of rubble. Somewhere high above the fractured geology was a broken pipeline, and it was leaking crude down into the aquifer, poisoning the lifeblood of the Great Glen and her largest inhabitant.
So much oil had poured into the aquifer that it was now seeping out of the passage and into Loch Ness. It had to be flushed out.
I knew what I had to do.
Tying the belt of explosives around my waist, I began climbing over piles of rocks, making my way quickly toward the eastern end of the chamber. There were animal bones everywhere, some of them fossilized, others still covered by clumps of meat and fur. I stumbled upon a rotting pile of rags and flesh, wedged between two large rocks, and I gagged at its stench.
"Oh, Jesus—"
The victim's face was ashen gray and purple, the remains of the body — twisted and broken. Massive teeth marks riddled the corpse, resembling black tarry holes the size of my fist. Both arms were gone, chewed down to the bone, and the legs had been taken just above the knees. The lower vertebrae of the spinal column protruded hideously out the back of the ebony-colored Italian silk shirt and matching Armani sports jacket, the corpse's cream-colored tie still knotted.
The stitched red monogram was clearly visible along the left hand sleeve: J. S. C.