But Mons grabbed at the silver chalice and smashed it across Reynolds’s face. He crashed to his gargantuan belly, then, staggering to his feet, tottered from the chamber.
I goggled at Mons as he raced feverishly through the ritual, glancing every now and then over his shoulder, willing Banebdjed to reverse his trajectory.
‘He’s crazy!’ yelled Flarge. ‘We’ve got to get out!’
Suddenly a lurid light began to infuse Mons’s features. He grinned, obviously confident that, great all-powerful sorcerer that he was, he alone had managed to confound the rules and resurrect the Beast once more. But the light was coming from the Prayer itself. Its edges were on fire.
Mons gasped and looked down as the strange, almost liquid flame licked across the silk. In seconds it had caught the trailing sleeves of his black cloak and was running over his hands like quicksilver.
He screamed and looked wildly around him, looking for support from his loyal acolytes who, like loyal acolytes across the ages, were running to save their skins.
‘Banebdjed!’ he screamed. ‘Save me!’
Staggering towards the satanic creature, his arms ablaze, Mons collapsed onto his knees. Banebdjed, its ghastly ram’s head twisting and writhing in agony, was vanishing fast, darkness enveloping its rancid fur and scaly flesh. Flames burst into life under Mons’s jaw and his lips drew back in one last snarl. There was a great whoosh of air and orange fire exploded within his skull, belching from his open mouth and sending his eyes shooting out of their sockets. Like twin comets they flared across the cavern, exploding against the rock wall. Then the rest of Mons collapsed into a ball of flame that span round and round before hurtling straight into the maw of the creature, its jaws snapping shut with terrible finality.
There was a final, almost pathetic sigh and then, as if I had emerged from a dip underwater, everything sprang sharply into focus. The temperature rocketed and that curious sensation of muffled sound vanished on the instant. Naked amber-shirts were fleeing in droves from the chamber, leaving only Flarge, Delilah and me standing as the place shuddered to its very foundations.
Clearly, Banebdjed intended to take down the place with him. I raced towards the altar and scooped up Agnes in my arms.
‘Lucifer!’ she cried, tears streaming down her beautiful face. ‘You have saved me?’
‘I promised, didn’t I?’ I breathed. Delilah was by me in an instant, draping her own heavy coat over the poor girl.
‘Let me take ’er, sir,’ cried my servant. ‘You and Mr Flarge concentrate on getting hus outa ’ere!’
I nodded dumbly, passing Agnes into Delilah’s massive embrace. The girl managed to stand, Delilah’s coat completely encasing her.
Rocks were tumbling all about and the way out was simply stuffed with screaming, desperate Satanists who’d seen their dreams turn to ashes and now cared only for themselves. We’d never get past them and would in all probability be crushed to death if we tried.
Then my eyes alighted on a wonderful sight. It was a little metal sign bearing the legend PTT and, right by it, the arched entrance to some form of maintenance tunnel. Blessing the Post Office in all its forms, I hared forward and popped my head inside. The tunnel was narrow and cramped but looked wholly sound.
‘This way!’ I yelled. ‘Come on!’
Delilah and Agnes moved first and I waved them through.
Flarge paused at the entrance and I urged him on with a thump on the shoulder blades.
‘What if it just leads further into the mountain?’ he yelled.
‘We’ve no choice!’ I cried. ‘Get moving!’
He nodded dumbly, then held out his hand. ‘Look here, Box, I’ve got to say this. I’m sorry for everything that happened. If I could undo—’
‘Buy me lunch at the Berkeley sometime, eh? Now, go!’
I pushed him in the small of the back and then crumpled to my knees as the floor shook. Enormous chunks of the cavern were coming loose now, peeling from the walls and ceiling, and the black Satanic drapes that had decorated the place billowed and were torn asunder like the sails of a doomed pirate ship.
The fang-like stalactites cracked and fell, spearing amber-shirts with deadly accuracy. There was no time to linger and I staggered through the archway into the Post Office tunnel where all was hot, oppressive darkness.
Crook-backed by the low ceiling, I stumped forward only to run headlong into the rest of the party. I felt my guts revolve as the tunnel shuddered about us, Delilah’s sweaty bosom stuffed into my face and Flarge’s bony elbow jammed into my side as I tried to get my bearings.
‘This way!’ gasped Aggie through clouds of choking dust. I groped for my cigarette lighter and flicked it into life. Rock particles glittered in the sudden yellow glow but I could see that Aggie was on the right track. The tiny tunnel snaked round to the left and the flame of the lighter suddenly sputtered as it met a cold breeze.
I could feel Aggie’s hot breath against my cheek as I inched forward on my knees, clearing away rubble and then rising once more to a semi-crouching position as I moved, crablike, towards the tantalizing night beyond.
I felt queasy with bending so low, my legs cramping appallingly and the rough tunnel mortar scraping against the nape of my neck, but all at once I was through and breathing stunningly fresh air.
I turned round at once and dragged first Agnes, then Delilah, then Flarge after me.
We lay dazed for a long moment, retching and coughing and shaking our heads. Above us, the star-packed night sky was immense and wonderful.
There was a distant percussion from inside the mountain and a billowing cloud of choking smoke puffed from the tunnel exit like a dragon’s last breath.
‘Cor!’ croaked Delilah. ‘What a night!’
I got to my feet and sighed heavily. Agnes Daye bounced nimbly to my side, her lithe form all but invisible within Delilah’s enormous trench-coat.
I ran my hand over her hair and smiled warmly. ‘We’d better get you warm, eh? You’ll not last long in the buff.’
She chewed her lip and shuddered. ‘Is it really over?’ she cried, plaintively.
About to reply, I took in a great lungful of the blessed Swiss air, then looked up suddenly, hearing the sound of grinding gears and metal on metal. Flarge was by me in a flash and both of us craned our necks to see the cable cars from Mons’s castle stirring into life.
‘Capital!’ I cried. ‘We hopped off when it came close to the mountain. Perhaps we can jump back on board and get a lift down!’
The carriage was blazing with light and I kept my eye on it as the four of us raced through the snow. To my surprise, the light in the car was momentarily blocked by a bulky shape and I realized the thing was occupied.
Flarge whipped out the binoculars he’d taken from Reiss-Mueller’s corpse. ‘Probably just one of Mons’s guards fleeing the castle–hello!’
‘What is it?’ I cried.
Flarge slowly lowered the glasses. ‘It’s Joshua Reynolds,’ he grinned. ‘Fatty Reynolds, trying to save his worthless skin.’
I felt a surge of new purpose rush through my veins. ‘I see,’ I said calmly. ‘Percy, do you reckon you can see these ladies safely to the village?’
‘Nothing to it, old sport. Got something to attend to?’
‘You might say that. You might very well say that.’
Aggie cocked her lovely head to one side and frowned. ‘Lucifer?’
I bent to kiss her on the forehead and then took to my heels, racing through the powdery snow and casting rapid glances at the descending cable car. Within minutes I’d reached the rocky point where the car would come close to the mountainside. Crouching low lest my treacherous chief spot me, I watched as the metal box slid downwards on its steel wire, hovering only a foot or so above my head.
Summoning my last reserves of energy, I hurled myself upwards and grabbed hold of the bottom of the car, swinging up my legs and nestling within the metalwork. The car rocked slightly but there was otherwise no
sign that I had thus stowed away. My old injury suddenly flared back into life, however, and I hissed in pain at the renewed agony in my palm.
As the cable-car trundled away from the mountainside, dizzyingly empty air opened up below me. I took a deep breath and concentrated on the matter in hand, probing with my fingers at the housing above my head and soon locating the edges of the hatch. Electric light showed through in a thin yellow rectangle. Planting both feet firmly into the recesses of the undercarriage, I pressed my hands to the hatch, counted to five and pushed upwards with all my strength.
Taken aback by how easily it shifted, I suddenly found myself looking into the car at floor level. The light was blinding after the darkness outside and the hatch clattered backwards with a noise that would’ve woken the dead. Reynolds, still in his absurd black costume, span round from the window and gawped down at me.
Before he could move, I put out both hands and hauled myself into the cabin, leaving the hatch wide open. ‘Evening!’ I cried. ‘Going so soon?’
Reynolds’s paunchy face was utterly ashen. ‘You!’ he squealed. ‘How did you—? What…what happened back there?’
I settled back against the glass and folded my arms nonchalantly. ‘Oh yes. I forgot. You didn’t stay for the Main House, did you? Scuttled up to the castle, eh, and decided to take the posh way down?’
Reynolds’s great pale paw flashed into his robe and pulled out an automatic. ‘You’ll tell me, Box, if it’s the last thing you do,’ he snarled. ‘Which, incidentally, it will be.’
I shrugged. ‘I’m content. I’ve done my duty. The Devil has been trapped once again and the Jerusalem Prayer destroyed.’ I turned to the window and watched our swift progress down the mountain.
Reynolds chins quivered alarmingly. ‘And Mons?’
‘Gone to Hell.’
Passing a shaking hand across his face, Reynolds heaved a great, shuddering sigh, then seemed to recover himself. He levelled the gun at me and there was black vengeance in his hooded eyes. ‘No matter,’ he whispered. ‘Who knows of my role in all this save you and your amusingly motley band?’
‘I wouldn’t underestimate any one of us.’
‘No? I’m disappointed with Percy, I must admit. He showed great promise. I’m afraid the tales of one obese Domestic and a callow girl with a shade too much of the tar-brush about her won’t hold much water back in Blighty.’
‘What about me?’
Reynolds’s face turned sour. ‘You? Didn’t I tell you a long time ago that it was time for you to retire?’
He cocked the automatic. I held my breath. And in the blink of an eye, stepped forward and dropped through the open hatch.
My belly lurched horribly as I met empty air but I struck out at once, grabbing hold of the undercarriage of the cable-car and swinging myself back into my previous position. Reynolds’s pistol appeared through the open hatch like a rat out of a drainpipe, his hand twisting uncomfortably round as he loosed off a random shot.
The bullet sparked off the metal right by me and I ducked as it whistled past my cheek. I caught sight of Reynolds’s eye as he pressed one flabby cheek to the floor and then poked out his hand once again, determined to get a clear shot at me.
The fat man’s exposed eye swivelled in my direction and the corner of it creased into a smile as he spotted me, skulking amongst the metalwork. ‘I’ve got you, Box, you interfering bastard!’ he screamed, blasting off another bullet.
I dodged out of the way but the shot was true, searing a neat hole through the flapping tail of my leather coat. I wasted no time, swaying from metal strut to metal strut so that I was on the other side of the hatch–behind Reynolds–and out of his firing line.
His plump hand scrabbled about the rim of the open hatch as he tried to reorientate himself but I moved like lightning, grasping his thick wrist and trying desperately to wrestle the gun from his grip. But he was a tenacious bugger, and try as I might I couldn’t get him to relinquish it. Twisting round his wrist, I yelled as the pistol spoke again and a bullet smashed through the floor of the car above my head.
Without warning, the whole vehicle lurched and there was a curious, tortured whipping sound from somewhere above. I looked down and saw, to my intense relief, that the station was now only a hundred or so feet below us. If I could only hang on and avoid getting shot, I’d be able to drop off into the snowdrift. The strange lashing sound came again and the car suddenly dropped fully two feet. I fell forward from my place of safety and found myself hanging onto Reynolds’ wrist for grim death. The fat man tried desperately to shake me off and he dropped the automatic. It fell like a stone and I grabbed at Reynold’s arm, trying to haul myself up.
‘Let go!’ he gasped.
‘No thanks!’ I cried.
The car rocked again and I realized with horror that Reynolds’s last shot, the one that had penetrated the car, must’ve struck the steel wheels that attached the car to the cable above! If they sheared away now, the gondola would be literally hanging by a thread! My own grip on my boss’s sweaty arm was fast loosening and I scrabbled frantically at his sleeve, trying to get a purchase on the thick black fabric. Reynolds howled in pain and fought back with the tenacity of a tiger, wriggling his arm back through the hatch and evidently attempting to slip out of his costume to free his put-upon limb.
Then, with the cable station only twenty feet below us, the car gave a great lurch and Reynolds himself fell halfway through the hatch. I clutched at his collar to stop myself from falling and he cried out in frustration and terror. The mechanism above us was disintegrating fast and the air was alive with a metallic splintering sound.
I locked my arms around Reynold’s great thick neck, and blow me if he didn’t try to bite me! I glanced below again and suddenly knew I was safe. The car dropped one last time. Above us, the steel wheels fell apart and suddenly the car was falling free. With a delighted laugh, I kissed Reynolds on the forehead and let go, falling only ten feet or so and rolling expertly into the snowdrifts.
I looked up as the cable car plummeted towards earth, Reynolds jutting from the hatchway like a cork in a bottle. Shrieking, he tried to force out his massive body from its confinement but it was too late. Like a yo-yo snapped from its string, the cable car went smashing into its station, shearing the corpulent chief of the Royal Academy neatly in two.
‘I fell forward and found myself hanging onto Reynolds’ wrist for grim death’
As the car came to rest amidst the tangled machinery it burst into flame and I averted my face, taking solace in the freezing snow in which I lay half buried.
I walked slowly back towards Lit-de-Diable, the cable-car terminus blossoming into flame far behind me, but the roar of the explosion was almost blotted out by the sweet pattering of snowflakes. Down here, snow blanketed every wooden gable, every glowing gas lamp.
As I neared the inn, the door flew open and Delilah, Flarge and Agnes emerged.
‘Good to see you, sah!’ cried Delilah. ‘Hi trust everything’s been sorted out to your satisfaction?’
‘Rather,’ I cried as Aggie slammed into me and threw her arms about my neck. ‘Have you got us all beds for the night, Percy?’
Flarge grinned hugely. ‘Naturally. No flies on me, old thing. Could I buy you that dinner now, do you think?’
I thought of warm food and wine and a downy bed and sweet Agnes Daye and suddenly I was the happiest of men. I kissed the girl full on the mouth and then whistled at the rather fetching Swiss peasant costume of gingham dress and tight blouse that she seemed to have acquired.
‘Glad you’ve changed, my dear. You’d’ve frightened the yodellers!’
She gave a glum look and plucked at the pretty frock. ‘That was shaming. I must have looked indecent.’
‘Nun’s training kicking in again, eh?’ I shrugged. ‘Well, it was nothing I hadn’t seen before.’
She batted me playfully on the arm. ‘Brute. You are a beast and I cannot think why I like you.’
‘Well,
’ I said, putting my arm around her shivering shoulders and leading her towards the warmth of the inn, ‘better the devil you know, eh?’
Table of Contents
Cover
Have you read these other titles in the Bunsen Book Club?
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Mark Gatiss, The Devil in Amber
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