CHAPTER THREE the final chapter END GAME Nat awoke suddenly, too suddenly. He knew straightaway that this was no dream. The room around him was ill defined. Like an oil painting done in shades of blue and black. Rotating slowly as if on a roasting spit he looked down upon his own sleeping body. A thin silvery cord that seemed to be made of smoking silk connected his two selves. Simply by wanting to move he rotated again and adopted a sitting position. His naked astral form glowed slightly and seemed far more real than the sleeping body of heavy flesh that lay below him. He chose to clothe himself in jeans and a tea shirt, with a new pair of high-top trainers. Slowly at first he began to move about the room whilst still sitting cross legged and quite at ease. Upon reaching the windows he drifted through them and outside. With no sense of fear or vertigo he drifted out beyond the fire escape until he was in mid-air. It all seemed so right and natural. This was how we were meant to travel. His body felt full of light and energy, no wonder he was glowing. All around him above the rooftops were the forms of drifting sleepers like so many people shaped balloons. Here and there were those that were aware of their surroundings and were on their way to or from a destination of choice. This peace and sense of well-being were disturbed by a deep vibration. The sleeping forms of all those around him retracted to their own bodies. A primal warning had been heeded. Nat remained suspended a hundred feet above the murky rose arbours below him. The vibration increased like the slow swelling of a bass pedal on a giant pipe organ. It was slightly discordant like the soundtrack to a cheap horror film. As the vibration grew in strength an obnoxious odour assailed his senses. It smelt like burning hair and rotten fish. Almost instinctively Nat began to recite the prayer that Dillon had given him. Parts of it came out in Latin and some in English but it didn’t seem to matter. Around him the shape of a transparent golden eggshell was forming. The jarring vibration was muted to a comfortable low hum and the pestiferous odours disappeared. A dull orange glow began to form in the centre of Hobs Lane in front of him. The glow swelled and rose in the air before him as it changed to a vivid red that offended his vision. The red fog coalesced into a man like shape a short distance in front of him. It was the tall slightly humped figure that had followed him home. Gone were the coat and hat. They would have been preferable to the abomination that revealed itself to him. This man-thing was completely naked apart from an ornate head mask that resembled a cross between a giraffe, a camel and an ant eater all as black as obsidian. The body looked like a skeleton wrapped in flesh coloured cling-film. Its genitals were deformed and comprised of two swollen phalli one above the other that were bald at the base but had a corona of pubic hair around each foreskin. When Khonsu spoke the voice came from inside Nat’s head in a most unpleasant way. It was a feminine voice, like that of a young girl that had a sore throat; ‘I see the interfering priest has been offering you protection. No matter, I am not here to harm you. Indeed I am very interested in preserving your fine young body. You could say I have a vested interest in it. It is important that you follow me now. No harm will befall you this night. As for the future, that will be up to you.’ Khonsu turned and moved slowly away. Nat would not leave his protection behind but as he tentatively edged forwards the egg like shield moved with him. Safe in the knowledge that his protection would be with him Nat followed into the unknown. Soon the landscape below him was a steady blur. Stopping was instant and without any sense of inertia. Nat found himself in a hospital ward. Judging by the signs around him he guessed it was in Spain. Lying in the bed before him was his mother Raneem. Slumped in a chair next to her was the sleeping body of Tristram. Khonsu’s shrill voice cut into Nat’s mind once again; ‘She is in a coma. Her valiant champion of a boyfriend does not know why. But then neither do the doctors. Come and I will show you the reason.’ Nat was pleased to leave his mother’s unconscious form as he had noticed Khonsu’s two vile appendages begin to engorge. No way did he want this abomination anywhere near his mother. Nat was aware that they were now moving away from planet earth. They stopped beside a cliff face with a small cave in its centre. There was a membrane of sorts stretched over the entrance and seated within in a hunched position sat his mother’s ethereal form. As she looked up Nat let out a cry of despair. In the blink of an eye Nat then found himself back beside Hobs Lane one hundred feet up above the rose arbours. With tears in his eyes he watched as Khonsu entered the pub and then returned. This time there was a hint of malevolent glee in Khonsu’s squeaky voice; ‘She will remain in a coma until it pleases me to release her soul from its prison. That will be up to you. Do as I say and I will release her. The interfering priest has gone home and your Neanderthal uncle is fast asleep in bed. I want you to return to your body and dress and pack. Remove my parcel from the stove and write a note to your uncle saying you have heard from your mother and will be joining her abroad, with the parcel as she has requested. Go to Hobs lane one hour from now and a taxi will be waiting for you. I was watching the pub when your stupid priest opened the iron box. Thanks to him my search is over. That is all. Now go.’ Nat did exactly as he had been told. One hour later he was in a taxi speeding towards the Sussex countryside. Nat was in no mood to talk and the driver was happy with the radio damaging his ear drums. They arrived at an impressive converted chapel in the middle of the countryside half a mile from the last village they had passed through. The taxi had been paid for by debit card over the phone so Nat only had to give the driver an ironic thank you and approach the building. The door was closed but not locked. Anger was beginning to replace fear so he entered and called out ; ‘Right … I’m here. Now let her go ! From a side door to the large hallway emerged an old man. He was tall and hunched and wore a filthy full length dressing gown cinched in the middle by a dirty green tasselled rope. His hair was long and yellowed and clumps were missing from his bony scalp where they had been replaced by festering sores. His face looked like a white prune with dark eye sockets and yellow flicks of light seemed to dance where his eyes should be. His feet were thankfully hidden in carpet slippers so filthy they were a shiny black. His mouth was a lip-less slit stretched over brown teeth. He stank with a combination of urine, faeces and vomit. Only the voice was the same as his ethereal other self. A nasty high pitched whine. ‘Not so fast young man, show me the Usekh.’ Nat unzipped the sports bag lying at his feet. With incredible speed a bony claw of a hand shot out and plunged a hypodermic needle into the back of Nat’s hand. The syringe contained less than half a milligram of Tetrodotoxin in a carrier solution. That was all that was needed to render Nat totally incapable of any movement yet leave him fully conscious. With painful awareness Nat watched as Khonsu fetched a wheel chair and lifted him into it. Stout leather belts held him in place while he was wheeled through to a large room at the back. He knew straight away that this was once the centre rear of the chapel. The crucifix had been replaced by a hideous statue of the Egyptian God Seth. The altar had been converted into a modern operating table. A trolley containing surgical instruments was close at hand complete with scalpels and bone saws. In front of the statue of Seth was a marble plinth with a small curved ivory bowl. Nat knew why there was no anaesthetic equipment in the room. Above the sacrilegious altar was a ceiling hoist. Nat had to endure witnessing the whole hideous proceedings but fortunately passed out as the selected rib was removed. He awoke in a hospital bed that had been set up in another room. The straight jacket was fastened to the frame of the bed and allowed little or no movement. The stitches across his lower chest were itching terribly. Khonsu sat in an arm chair by the door as he expertly carved a crude knife from the stolen rib. The girlish voice sounded genuinely happy; ‘Tomorrow will be the big day. You are so privileged to be serving the ancient one with your sacrifice. When I am reborn I shall keep my word and release your mother, Raneem. I shall bring her here and keep her for my pleasure. Now now, don’t strain like that or you’ll ruin my stitches.’ Nat was beyond despair. In a way it would be a merciful release when the sharpened rib was plunged into his heart. Exhaustion granted Nat a merciful night of sleep. He must have been drugged again while he slept for he awoke to find himself back on the altar. Apart from some stout leather straps the medical equipment had been removed. The walls were now covered in tapestries and ancient oil lamps had been lit. The air was heavy with a pungent sweet aroma that Nat suspected to be opium. Khonsu stood before the statue as if praying. The old man was totally naked apart from The Usekh of Souls about his bony neck. In his right hand he held the sharpened rib. He turned and spoke to Nat for the last time; ‘I went to look in on the pub last night. Your friends think you have been very foolish running off like that to find your mother but they wish you well. I shall visit them soon in a body they will recognise as yours. It will be amusing to kill them slowly as I explain to them what has really happened to you. Plenty of time for fun later, now I must journey to the other side. There are some loose ends to be tidied up.’ Khonsu lowered himself into a throne like chair next to a brazier where the opiated incense was burning. He laid his bony head back and breathed deeply as he entered into his final trance. Nat could not move but his field of vision saw the door handle explode in a shower of splinters and shotgun pellets. Tristram kicked in the door and levelled his second shot gun at Khonsu. Both barrels erupted at once and Khonsu’s head flew apart like a grenade going off in a water melon. Tristram kicked the headless cadaver to the floor and tipped the brazier of hot coals on to it. In a stride he crossed the room and cut Nat free with a commando knife taken from his boot sheath. He then grabbed Nat in a gentle fireman’s lift and hurried from the building. The fire was taking swift hold as the timbered roof supports welcomed the cleansing fire. No more would this once holy building bear witness to evil blasphemies. Tristram had a hire car waiting at the entrance to the drive and after securing Nat safely in the back seat with two seat belts Tristram drove off before they were seen. On the way back to London Tristram stopped and using his mobile rang the hospital in Spain. Sure enough with Khonsu dead at last Raneem had woken up and she sent them both her love. Tristram briefly explained to Nat that in the early twentieth century The Daughters of Horus had started to recruit male members from among the women’s families. This was done to confuse the servants and followers of ‘The Usekh of Souls’ cult. Tristram had come to England to help Raneem guard the necklace. Fate took a hand and they had fallen in love. Tristram went on ; ‘When Khonsu took you to the hospital in Spain I was not merely asleep. It is often the vanity of evil that leads to its downfall. If Khonsu had not underestimated me he would have been aware that I was also on the astral plane and watching from a safe distance. I followed to the lunar cave and then on to the pub. While you were packing your things I returned to Raneem but could not release her. She assured me that she would be released as soon as Khonsu was defeated. So I returned and followed the taxi. One look in the old chapel and I knew I had to hurry. I returned to my sleeping body and hurried back to England. The Daughters of Horus had a car waiting for me at Gatwick airport with a brace of double barrelled Purdeys locked in the back. I knew roughly where you were and it looks like I was just in time.’ The bouncing of the car and the open rear windows had begun to revive Nat so that by the time they reached Biffy’s pub he was able to hobble in and sit by a roaring log fire. Closing time had been half an hour ago but there would be no chess game tonight. Biffy, Susan and Dillon had been waiting to greet the heroes since Tristram had rung earlier. They all huddled around the fire with glasses in hand as Dillon proposed the first of many toasts; ‘ To the victors of the end game.’ The reply was echoed back ‘ The end game.’ THE END