The opening of the chamber triggers a series of horrific murders, each victim mutilated and their entrails used to form a different letter of the alphabet. Who is behind this outrage? And how is it linked to a subterranean chamber thousands of years old?
Inspector Stephen Wallace must unmask this crazed killer. Is it the sadistic thug responsible for organising a series of barbaric dog fights? The mysterious recluse who holds Black Mass orgies for drug addicted teenagers? Or is it, in fact, something much worse? An evil so old, so vile and so powerful that it threatens to engulf everyone who comes near it.
For Wallace, and possibly for the whole human race, time is running out fast.
Something evil is waiting. Something monstrous is loose...
|Publisher:||Caffeine Nights Publishing|
|Product dimensions:||5.08(w) x 7.80(h) x 0.59(d)|
About the Author
Born and brought up in Hertfordshire, Shaun Hutson now lives and writes in Buckinghamshire where he has lived since 1986. After being expelled from school, he worked at many jobs, including a cinema doorman, a barman, and a shop assistant - all of which he was sacked from - before becoming a professional author in 1983.
He has since written over 30 bestselling novels as well as writing for radio, magazines and television. Shaun has also written exclusively for the Internet, a short story entitled RED STUFF and an interactive story, SAVAGES.
Having made his name as a horror author with bestsellers such as SPAWN, EREBUS, RELICS and DEATHDAY (acquiring the nicknames 'The Godfather of Gore' and 'The Shakespeare of Gore' in the process) he has since produced a number of very dark urban thrillers such as LUCY'S CHILD, STOLEN ANGELS, WHITE GHOST and PURITY. At one time, Shaun Hutson was published under no fewer than six pseudonyms , writing everything from Westerns to non-fiction.
Hobbies include cinema (he has seen over 10,000 films in the last 20 years and cites director Sam Peckinpah as his biggest influence), rock music and slumping in front of the TV.
Reformed alcoholic, Shaun was diagnosed by a psychiatrist as having mildly psychotic tendencies. He is extremely unsociable and used to shoot pistols for a hobby (four perfect qualifications for being a novelist, really.)
Shaun has appeared on and presented a number of TV shows over the years. He has lectured to the Oxford Students Union. He has appeared on stage with heavy-metal rock band Iron Maiden 13 times and received death threats on a number of occasions due to his work.
His work is particularly popular in prison libraries.
Read an Excerpt
She stiffened, her body quivering almost imperceptibly as if a high voltage charge were being pumped through it. She sucked in a breath but it seemed to stick in her throat, and for terrifying seconds she found she couldn’t breathe. The skin on her face and hands puckered into goose-pimples and a numbing chill enveloped her. A small gasp escaped her as she actually felt her hair rising, standing up like a cat’s hackles. She swayed uncertainly for a moment as the feeling seemed to spread through her whole body, through her very soul, and Kim clenched her teeth together, convinced she was going to faint. On the verge of panic, she screwed up her eyes until white stars danced before her. Her throat felt constricted, as though some invisible hand were gradually tightening around it. Her head seemed to be swelling, expanding to enormous proportions until it seemed it must burst.
And somewhere, perhaps in her imagination, she thought, she heard a sound. A noise which froze her blood as it throbbed in her ears.
‘Beware of night, for we all know he’s loose again . . . ’
The knife felt cold against her flesh.
As if some icy forger were tracing a pattern over her skin, the girl felt the blade being drawn softly across her cheek.
The point brushed her lips, nudging against them for a moment as if seeking access to the warm moistness beyond. She opened her mouth slightly and, for fleeting seconds, she tasted steel. Then the knife was gone.
The girl’s eyes were closed, but as she felt the point gliding down towards the hollow of her throat she finally allowed herself to gaze upon the one who wielded the blade.
He was almost invisible in the darkness but she knew that, like her, he was naked.
As were the others who stood close by, little more than pale outlines beneath the dense canopy of trees whose gnarled branches twisted and curled together, rattled by the chill October wind which whistled tunelessly through the wood. It also ruffled the girl’s long dark hair, causing the silky tresses to writhe like reptilian tails.
She was barely seventeen but her body was shapely and belied her youth. Her breasts in particular seemed over-developed, the nipples coaxed to stiffness by the cold air. She shuddered involuntarily as she felt the knife being moved in a circular pattern around her aureola, brushing the puckered skin for a moment before prodding the nipple. This time she felt not only the needle-sharp point of the blade but the actual cutting edge too as it rested against the swollen bud of flesh. She closed her eyes again as the same movements were repeated on her other breast.
The pressure increased and she gritted her teeth, waiting for the cut.
But she felt only an icy tickle as the cold blade was drawn between her breasts, down to her navel and then towards the dark bush of hair between her legs. It parted the tightly curled down, guided with unfaltering skill by the powerful hand which grasped it.
She let out a low sigh, her breath clouding in the cold air, as the knife was pressed slightly harder against that most sensitive area. She opened her legs wider, as if to welcome the blade like some kind of steel penis.
For what seemed an eternity it remained there; then she exhaled slowly as it was eased aside.
Opening her eyes once more, she saw the one who held the blade turn slightly, until he was facing a youth no more than a few months older than herself. He was powerfully built, his head supported by a thick bull neck which he offered willingly to the wielder of the knife. The cutting edge left an almost invisible white mark as it was pressed against the boy’s throat. But after a second the pressure eased and the blade found its way to his chest before plunging deeper towards his limp penis. He tensed as the cold steel brushed his organ, tracing the course of the thick veins before gliding over his contracted testicles.
A moment later it was withdrawn and now both the girl and the youth knelt, fallen leaves crunching beneath them. They were close, within arm’s length.
Suddenly they caught the powerful smell which drifted on the wind.
A goat was being led towards them by a rope tied around its neck.
Another thick length of hemp had been wrapped tightly around its jaws so the only sound it could make was a low mewling deep in its throat.
The young couple lay face down on the carpet of leaves as the goat was coaxed between them. It was held firmly by the man who gripped the knife. He now moved behind the creature and straddled it, holding the blade before his chest in one strong hand. With the other he gripped the horns of the goat and yanked its head back so savagely he almost broke its neck.
The knife flashed forward, shearing through the animal’s throat, slicing effortlessly through muscle and sinew.
Huge gouts of blood erupted from the massive wound, spraying into the air with the force of a high pressure hose. The crimson fluid splattered the young couple as the goat bucked madly between the man’s kegs, its body jerking uncontrollably. The knife-wielder watched the white clouds of vapour rising into the air as the hot blood continued to fountain from the ruptured arteries.
From either side, figures approached, all of them men. All of them naked.
They lifted the goat into the air, its struggles now becoming more feeble as its life fluid gushed away. It suddenly re-doubled its efforts as the knife-wielder thrust his blade into its exposed belly, slicing open the fleshy sac with one powerful movement.
Intestines burst from the wound like the bloodied arms of an octopus, huge thick lengths falling to the ground with a loud, liquid splat. Steam rose from the spilling entrails, the pungent odour now mingling with the reek of excrement as the goat’s sphincter muscle loosened and a stream of liquid and solid waste pumped from its writhing body.
Still no one spoke, but as if a signal had been given, the young couple rolled over to face each other.
The girl closed her eyes and rolled again, allowing herself to slide into the thick mass of viscera. She felt its warmth surround her, felt the slippery wetness of the pulsing organs beneath her buttocks. She spread her legs and waited for the boy to join her. His penis was already swollen and he found no difficulty penetrating her, for she was as eager as he. They writhed amidst the blood and internal organs, now oblivious to the choking smells which surrounded them and the crimson fluid which coated their bodies. They were aware only of the pleasure which they both felt.
The man with the knife watched impassively as the frenetic coupling continued.
Blood ran down his hand from the blade of the weapon and he gaud at the crimson droplets in fascination as one fell onto his own rigid penis, staining the head bright red.
So much blood.
And there would be more.
He looked around at the other naked bodies in the clearing.
Much more blood.
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