The Hidden Key (Second Sacred Trinity) Read online

  Hud glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head at the wreckage. He turned the doorhandle and stepped into the corridor.

  “Well, well. What have we here? A little spy. Who are you talking to?”

  A low woman’s voice rumbled at his temple, her accent thick. Hud’s throat constricted in fear. A knife rested at his ribcage. His focus slid either side. Flanked by the twins like nightmarish bookends, his sudden manifestation apparently surprised neither. They must have loitered nearby in the building and he wondered how much they’d observed.

  “Are you a friend or are you a foe?” the guy asked menacingly. He wrapped Hud in a bear hug, trapping his arms, which forecast their opinion.

  “What are you doing?” Hud didn’t need to act to conjure alarm. “I just went back to get my tip. The tight-ass didn’t give me a brass razoo. Let go!”

  “So you thought you’d take a souvenir as compensation? A thief into the bargain. Tell me who you were talking to.”

  The knife didn’t withdraw. If anything, she pressed it harder, taking a moment to move the fringe flopping her vision. Her face twitched and she shook her head in irritation, as if the water distracted. The tip penetrated the flimsy barrier of his overalls, scoring bare flesh.

  “No one! I told you. I’m just pissed off he didn’t pay me. Maybe I muttered out loud. I tripped over and swore.”

  Hud infused the babble with an authentic whine, trying to gain more time to sort an exit strategy. The wretched woman draped her free arm about his shoulders like a friend, pulling him close. Her eyes reminded Hud of a shark, cold and detached. His well-tuned survival skills kept him outwardly calm. Unfortunately, the twins were not accustomed to such a reaction and their suspicions amped.

  “What do you know about the Spencers? You have one chance. I will detect if you are lying.”

  “Look, lady. I’m just the delivery man. Those people are fruitcakes. You’ve only just missed them. If you hurry, you might catch up.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  The pale-haired fiend pushed the knife in deeper and his flesh sliced in stinging pain. Hud began to panic. This was not white-water rafting or scuba caving.

  “He is surely retarded, sister. Where is his fear?”

  The guy’s arms shook, his power slackening, only to tighten again when he realised. They really seemed bothered by the water.

  Hud poised to capitalise. “I’m telling you! I don’t know anything.”

  “Perhaps, he truly knows nothing?”

  “He is lying, brother. A flower-boy who neglects his other deliveries is a flower-boy without his job. I feel it,” she purred the last three words and they sounded somehow more lethal than her anger.

  “Do not get upset, Rebel. I did not say we should let him live.” Hud couldn’t work out which disturbed more, the sister’s instability or the brother’s utter lack of emotion.

  “What are you really doing here, little man? Extortion? Fact-gathering? Kidnapping? Some other swindle?” She blinked and flinched repetitively. Did they have Tourette syndrome? “Are you a private investigator?”

  “I’m none of those things. I won’t press charges. I’ll forget I ever saw you!”

  “We will help you to forget. I do not like loose ends or little pinpricks who stick their noses where they should not.”

  “I’m just doing my job!”

  Rebel reached around and clamped Hud’s cheeks, pushing the knife between bones, the pain white-hot. She was head and shoulders taller than him. He stood still, a struggle serving to hasten the blade’s progress. The brother reefed off Hud’s sunglasses and crushed them underfoot. Bugger. If he lived, Andie would probably send him an invoice.

  Hud contemplated slipping a hand inside their pockets to extract the phone. At least then they’d be none closer to the Trinity, regardless of his murder. He had photos of Vee on there. Abruptly, the lights cut off. The fire alarm erupted and a red warning light strobed. Hud took his cue.

  He exploded in a star-jump. The knife pushed deeper for a second and then released. He wrenched it from her and hurled it as far as possible along the hallway. Spinning to stomp the girl’s foot, he elbowed the guy in the face. For good measure, he punched her hard in the gut, karate chopping her tosser brother in the voice box. She bent to grab her middle with a look of disbelief. It all seemed too easy. He bit his tongue; that’s what he’d said before this disaster.

  As far as Hud could tell in the dark, they both simply stood there, too stunned to act. He experienced not a scrap of remorse for hitting a female. Reptiles didn’t count. It had unfolded in a matter of seconds, but still their lack of retaliation was more unsettling than anything he could envisage. He’d expected a fight.

  “Cut the Bruce Lee crap, idiot. Run!”

  Hud didn’t require a second command from Andie, the stress clear in her voice. Warm moisture spread from the wound in his side, a lancing ache as he sprinted along the corridor towards the lifts, fast footfalls in his wake. They’d obviously recovered. What were they? Weird cyborgs? Hud suspected his injured lung deflated, a fist of heaviness seizing his chest. It became increasingly difficult to suck air. He refused to stumble and kept up the pace, acting on adrenaline alone.

  “I’m going to murder you slowly,” she screamed from close behind.

  “Hurry! Hurry, Hud. The fire escape on your left at the end,” Andie shouted.

  He veered a sharp corner and hurled himself for the barricade, which seemed to stretch into the distance no matter his acceleration. He blinked and attempted to clear his mind, but the faster he travelled the further the door slipped from proximity. Hud didn’t understand. They messed with his perceptions somehow. She sniggered near enough to rustle his hair. It was impossible, totally abnormal she’d caught up that quickly.

  They didn’t move like everyone else, shirking the laws of physics. A hand gripped his shoulder, spider fingers gouging. He was done for now, but refused to give in, barging forth to drag her with him. Then the pressure broke and he burst towards the door, no one behind him. It was a trick to make him think he’d been caught and stop. No doubt about it, they were slippery customers.

  “No.” She shrieked like a wounded animal as he flung the barrier aside and stepped into nothing.

  He fell headlong into a swirling vortex of light and colour. A blinding blast obliterated the scene entirely. Had he lost consciousness due to the haemorrhage? He worried briefly this might be his passage to the afterlife, but he’d never been a believer. And Rebel had promised a slow demise. That was far too believable. She aimed to bury him alive to rot in a box or some torture equally horrible. He would never see the sun again.

  “The Keeper must claim the Stone.” A soft voice echoed in Hud’s head. “The Ritual is upon you.”

  He rematerialised in a small round room, which gained clarity to become a temple with glittering walls, the shock profound. The pain miraculously disappeared and he could breathe as if never stabbed. He gingerly searched his rib and discovered unblemished skin. The hole in his overalls seemed authentic enough.

  Rebel’s prints on his shoulder throbbed. He prayed they couldn’t be traced back here. Andie and Bickles appeared around the perimeter, their candlelit mouths hanging in astonishment to rival his own. Hooded gowns covered their clothes, cowls obscuring upper faces. Other indistinct figures lined the circle. Based on size, he knew one of them was Hugo from Winnie’s mind history of the Trinity back at the lab. Hud counted twelve other people in attendance, several of them mere ghost-filled spaces.

  Bickles leaned over, speaking quickly. “Well we’ve confirmed something else beyond doubt, aside from the presence of those homicidal bastards.”

  Hud tilted his head and swallowed the bait. “Which is?”

  “That madman is an astute judge of character. After knowing you for a nanosecond, he called you a mental defect. I have to say, I agree.”

  Andie leaned in. “At least it’s not a total debacle.”

  “Er,” Hud grimaced. “That
’s an optimistic take on matters.”

  “Buzz is riding in that spike-haired harridan’s pocket.”

  Fifteen

  Benji stirred in the inky gloom. His body was sore in places he hadn’t realised were a part of him. His lower back spasmed and made it difficult to draw breath. With huge resolve he sucked a mouthful of air and was instantly sorry. It was a foul brew of decaying flesh, so thick with the stench of decomposition and rotten eggs it coated his tongue. Benji bent double in the corridor littered by shattered ceramics.

  The contractions of his stomach only slightly lessened the pain of tile chips worming deep into his palms. His shirt stuck irritatingly to his chest, as though he’d poured syrup over himself. Benji glanced down and fear pierced his throat. He was drenched in blood – a lake of dampness banked by dryness. He’d lain here long enough for it to set. Bringing a shaky hand to his face, he cautiously patted the crust beneath his nose, relieved the bleeding had staunched. His head ached and he was extremely parched, lips cracked from a loss of body fluids. What were the symptoms for dehydration?

  A greasy ash eddied lethargically in the dim glow. When he checked his watch, it had stopped at midnight. Benji’s mind slowly came to full awareness and a throbbing hum gained prominence. It grew louder, in increasingly frequent bursts. It was very hot, acrid heat consuming him with thirst.

  He wanted more than anything to move, but his legs would not obey and he remained pinned against unyielding concrete. He could feel his toes and didn’t believe the force of the impact had been enough to sever his spine, so why wouldn’t they as much as twitch? He gave the issue concerted attention, managing to thrash his upper body about, while his useless lower half refused to budge.

  Needing to do something other than sit like an exposed duck in hunting season, he patted the gritty floor for the torch. Fingers met plastic and he clicked it on, playing the beam around until it rested on the reflective silver of the fridge door. Even through a dense oily haze, the surface pulsated, an impossible thudding heartbeat. It glowed ominously and hissed steam.

  Benji’s skin tingled with foreboding. Whatever was coming was not friendly. He was so afraid, but no matter how he tried and struggled, he could not budge his stubborn body from its place. He sat there limply, a sacrificial tethered goat.

  “Yes, Benji. That is right. Give yourself to me.” An irresistibly appealing voice caressed his mind. “I am coming only for you,” she promised seductively. “I shall grant you all you’ve dreamed. All you’ve ever wished for can be yours. You will be the world’s greatest trauma surgeon. The finest college will cost you nothing and they will journey across the world for the privilege of your consultation.”

  The pounding became unbearable. Benji clamped his hands tightly to his ears as it reached a crescendo, silver gleaming bright enough to stain the darkness red. The thumping halted for the tiniest beat and then the door blew outwards with a force so powerful it gouged the wall over him, missing by a whisker. It rebounded to implant itself on the side opposite, where it jutted like some crazy art installation.

  Debris machine-gunned and a choking dust filled his lungs. Slimy fillets of corpse and festering entrails splattered in a grisly shower. Benji’s body jerked free as pain seared his head, curling him into a knot. A skull rolled to a stop next to him, its caved temporal bone pasted in pink brain. An attached eyeball skewed crazily at him. He gagged and convulsed in the rubble. A crackling fizz as loud as ice-water on a baking griddle filled the night, punctuated by jagged crunches.

  The floor beneath him shuddered and the building groaned as the thing in the cool room tore its way out, an inhuman screech of wrath blades in Benji’s ears. He screamed and writhed. Blood poured from his nose and his eardrums threatened to burst. Silence abruptly descended. The respite was profound when the agony finally ceased. Benji dragged himself tiredly upright.

  He felt for the torch again, used it to bat the skull away, and pointed it gingerly at the newly created black hole of dust and seething ash. The barely penetrating ray jiggled with his shakes. A manic high-pitched giggle and a flurry of clapped hands issued from within. Perhaps now was an opportune moment to lose it! Everyone in that room was supposed to be dead.

  He considered a screaming encore, when the gloom swirled apart and a naked woman appeared. She was so utterly stunning Benji knew he would never see her equal in beauty as long as he lived. Granted, this might be a limited period; the odds for his survival were lengthening by the second. He caught the briefest glimpse of her spectacular form, drifting placidly towards him, unsullied by the filth around her, before he clamped his eyelids shut.

  Her body was unparalleled even in the airbrushed, surgically enhanced porn that littered his mates’ computers. Benji had always preferred the warmth and wonderful imperfection of his real girl to the virtual variety. What he wouldn’t give to see her one last time. He would hug her so close and never let go! But currently ensnared by the succubus, his freedom seemed a distant dream.

  The woman’s ravishing image invaded his consciousness. Her skin shone golden, her luscious mouth the colour of ripe plums. The tip of her tongue slid provocatively over her curvaceous top lip. Her silken black hair fell straight to her tiny waist, sinuous strands over voluptuous breasts. In the shortest instance, Benji registered her long, shapely legs and tight stomach. She’d gifted him with a dazzling smile. But he’d also stared into her ageless, cruel eyes, black as a bottomless chasm and scarier than anything he’d ever imagined.

  She leached into the secret recesses of his soul, dissolving a lifetime of memory until only emptiness was left for her to fill with monstrous intent. Benji vigorously shook his head. He wanted her pollution erased from his thoughts – he wanted her out of his mind! But the more he fixed on expelling her, the more her contamination spread, teasing and tempting him. Fragrant air engulfed Benji in a confounding cloud when she knelt before him.

  “Intriguing! You refuse my offer.” She tutted disapproval, her enthralling breath clouding his thoughts. “If I had but time to teach you appropriate respect.”

  Something about her superior tone aggravated Benji. She was like all the other beautiful people he’d ever known, who took their genetic blessings for granted, scornful of the burden of those less lucky. He refused to inhale the intoxicating scent and welded his eyelids, scrambling to block her by reciting anatomy.

  “Cranium, glabella, zygomatic arch, maxilla, mandible, mastoid process,” he chanted silently.

  She snorted surprise. “Hmm, mildly impressive. You are one of the very few who have defied me. Not even a teensy peek? I’ll even let you touch.” She ran her hands high inside his thighs. He pressed his legs together, fighting a rising erection by recalling the mess of innards decorating his workplace. This woman did things to a person, things they didn’t want but couldn’t help.

  “Frontal, parietal, occipital, temporal, magnum foramen.” Benji’s sanity splintered.

  He knew any bargain she made was at his expense, but his fight deflated as rapidly as a punctured tyre. She was too strong, her pull overwhelming. Suddenly snapshots of his treasured granny, his darling girlfriend, and his schoolmates bombarded him. Everyone he’d ever felt the slightest affection for flashed his awareness in a torture movie that made Saw worthy of Disney. His heart shattered to a million fragments.

  “Eeny, meeny, miney, mo, shall it be fast or shall it be slow?” There was barely a microsecond’s silence, but to Benji it seemed a terrible eternity. “Silly me! This is no occasion to rectify your insolence.”

  Her voice turned glacial. Benji felt her fingers grip his temples. “I will be merciful and choose fast. You will be one of the fortunate few not unwaylaid in the dark. As you deem the use of your ocular senses unnecessary …”

  She placed a thumb over each eye and began to push, the pressure ripping bullets down his optic nerve. But the pain was nothing to him. She had rendered him beyond hope by revealing her intentions for his family. She would hunt them down and do to the
m all the despicable things he’d been shown. He was paralysed by her touch and could only sit unmoving and petrified, begging to pass out. A hideous squelching forewarned Benji of the ghastly end.

  Sixteen

  “The Ritual is upon us! Come.”

  I made to rise, but Enoch rendered movement unnecessary as silver rays spun us in a web and whipped us all to the temple. I was deposited at the Keeper’s point of the Delta, facing inwards, Smithy and Daniel positioned towards me at their respective posts on each corner of the triangle. The void within enclosed several bones. I recognised a rib, a vertebra, the amber Raphaela had sent me and a saucer with a fine sprinkling of red powder.

  Bea, Fortescue and Mrs Paget were present also, in long white gowns with hoods that almost hid their faces, spaced about the round room at points adjacent to the Objects of the Sacred Trinity. The sunken orbs containing the articles beamed golden to magnify the silhouettes of my minders, who wavered godlike over the roof’s curve. Shadow shrouded everything else.

  The oculus was ablaze, crystal walls shimmering under its radiance, the symbols of the Keeper iridescent over every surface and dazzling from the floor. The atmosphere was so heavy with perfumed oil, its cloying scent made breathing a trial. I recalled this ceremonial substance was chrism balm, its purpose to purify. I was clothed in a crisp white cassock minus the hood, with nothing underneath. My Warriors were identically dressed. Did they feel as naked as I did? The diary rested in my hands.

  Bea, Fortescue and Mrs Paget held lit black candles in gold-and-ruby-encrusted holders, their expressions a mixture of solemn and apprehensive. Enoch was not observable, but his attendance was obvious by the unnaturally lustrous surrounds and his voice, which swelled and faded in continuous invocation, the language too obscure for my understanding. My minders joined him in the chant, gaining resonance as it progressed. The room began to hum and vibrate, the bricks of its walls slowly rotating, alternate layers in opposing directions.