With the Newt Suit's rig on wheels, it took us less than twenty minutes to secure everything onboard the Cialino's yacht.
The Brooklyn-224 was a fifty-seven-foot twin-screw diesel trawler, with an eighteen-foot beam and wide-open bow and stern decks. Its interior was tastefully decorated, its lavish furnishings done in maroons and creams, its woods polished teak and mahogany. The aft saloon's master quarters was luxurious to a fault, complete with a king-size bed, plasma screen television, steam room, and black onyx marble whirlpool.
I paused to gaze at a framed photo in the master suite. The image was of a young John Cialino in his early twenties standing with a group of firefighters in a New York City firehouse, a sign reading Brooklyn Heights Engine 224.
"This guy was a fireman?"
"Guess that explains the boat's name." True looked around and whistled. "Ye ken whit, Zack? I say screw the monster. Let's you an' me get Brandy an' a few o' her friends an' take this barge oot on the Moray Firth. A week or three an' ye'll forget a' aboot thae nightmares, that I promise."
"No." I reached under the bed's silk pillows, found the yacht's keys, then headed for the wheelhouse.
True followed me up to the main deck, then peered out the open venetian blinds. "Ye sure aboot no wantin' tae take that cruise?"
I looked out the window.
Brandy had just exited a cab and was heading for our berth. "Damn. Wait here."
I hurried outside, meeting her halfway up the dock. "Hey. What're you doing here?"
"I've been lookin' all over for ye. The jury came back, they delivered their verdict less than an hour ago."
"Already?" No wonder the media had vacated the wharf "What did they rule?"
"Guilty. Murder one." She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Zack."
She hugged me and I held her close, not sure how to react. "Murder one? Jesus, I guess I was hoping they'd give him involuntary manslaughter."
"Angus needs tae see ye right away. He sent me tae fetch ye."
"He'll have to wait."
"Zack, there's talk o' the judge renderin' the death penalty. Ye need tae go see yer father. Ye need tae tell the judge what ye know."
"I will. Later."
"What're ye up tae then?" She pushed past me, heading for the trawler yacht. "This is Johnny C.'s yacht, isn't it? Come out, True MacDonald, I see ye in there!" She climbed aboard before I could stop her, then she pulled back the gray tarp that covered the Dive Suit.
"Bloody hell. Finley True MacDonald, I hope ye're no' plannin' on goin' down in this thing."
"Not me."
"Zachary? Oh no… no way."
"I'll be fine."
"Fine? Against that monster? How will ye be fine?"
"Its eyes are sensitive to bright lights. I'll be surrounded by them."
"An' what are ye intendin' tae do down there? Fit it for glasses?"
"He wants tae free it tae the sea," blurted out True. "I telt him he wis crazy."
"Crazy? He should be committed."
"I'll be okay."
"I'll say, "cause ye're no' goin', an' that's final!"
I turned to True. "Start the boat."
"Don't ye dare."
True looked at us, then ducked inside the wheelhouse. "Damn ye, Zack—"
"Brandy, I love you, and I want to be with you forever, which is exactly why I have to do this. That night terror I had this morning, I've been having them almost every night since the Sargasso thing, and they're getting worse. I know it sounds crazy, but going down into the Loch and freeing this creature is the only way to end the nightmares."
"It'll end yer nightmares… an' yer life. Dinnae do this, Zack. Please dinnae put us both through this pain."
The twin engines growled to life.
"I love you, Brandy. Forgive me." In one motion I picked her up over my shoulder—
"Let me go!"
— and tossed her over the starboard rail.
I released the stern line, yelling, "True, get us out of here!"
Brandy surfaced, gasping from the cold water. "Bastard!"
The boat lurched forward, its tea-colored wake washing over Brandy's head.
Entry: 8 November 1330
Ten days. Ten long days have passed since I wis carried, half-deid, back tae Inverness. I am far frae whole, yet I am alive, spared by God, cursed by fate… my mind still lost in the bowels o' Hell. But finish this entry I must, if only for those that must one day carry on my anointed task.
When last I wrote, Sir Keef had announced his work on the iron framework an' pulley system had been completed. Sure enough, the slides that wid support the massive gate were mounted in place along the tunnel's narrowest point, along with two single pulleys and ropes.
Noo "twis time tae set the iron gate intae position within the frame.
Like the gate o' a drawbridge, oor iron barrier wis designed tae slide up an' doon within its housin', lowered an' raised by the two ropes looped on pulleys. The task afore us required we raise the gate above the mooth o' the river by its ropes, so it could be fed, bottom end first, intae its slide, then lowered within its frame.
Bein' the maist nimble, Sir Keef an' his brother, Alex mounted the frame so as tae thread the gate's heavy ropes through their pulleys first. Three o' oor rank then joined Sir Keef along the opposite bank wi' his rope, while MacDonald, mysel', an' Sir Alex worked the rope on the near shore.
Gruntin' an' groanin', the seven o' us managed tae raise an' swing the gate ower the surface o' that dark roarin' river. As it neared the arched ceilin', the two brothers reached oot an' guided it intae position within its heavy frame.
Sir Keef had used oil tae lubricate the sides o' the metal, an' we let oot a great cheer as the gate slid easily an' straight doon through the framework an' intae the stream, the iron grid preventin' anythin' larger than a weel dug frae passin' through its borders.
An' then Sir Keef lost his footin' an' he tumbled intae the ragin' water.
The current drove him intae the lowered gate, but oor barrier stood the test. Sir Keef holdin' on, we pulled on the ropes an' raised baith gate an' Knight frae the torrent. I reached oot for him, helpin' him tae the rocky embankment an' safety while MacDonald secured the ends o' baith ropes tae a metal spike anchored along the base o' the tunnel's arch.
It wis then that the Guivre struck.
Never have I seen a creature sae large move sae fast. Its first attack tore Sir Keef frae my grip, its horrible jaws strippin' flesh frae his bones afore releasin' him — deid an' bloodied — intae the river.
Lookin' doon, I saw the Guivre's young circlin' in the current, attackin' Sir Keef's remains, an' I realized we were greatly ootnumbered. As I ran tae retrieve my sword, the adult creature struck again, this time takin' Sir Alex.
The two Knights on the opposite bank were trapped. MacDonald could only watch as they were snatched, shaken nearly tae death, then released, one after the next, the monster's tactic— tae render its prey defenseless for its young.
The two wounded Knights screamed as the juvenile serpents attacked, feastin' and quarrelin' amongst themselves as they gnashed through oor comrades flesh an' limbs like rabid dugs.
MacDonald drew me back against the far wall, raspin' intae my ear. "Go! Return tae Inverness! Carry the Knight's mission!"
"I'm no' goin' wi'oot ye!"
"I'll follow, but first I must re-lower the gate. Take this torch. Distract the demon." Afore I could object, MacDonald ran for the anchored ropes.
But the adult Guivre wis too fast, snatchin' MacDonald, shakin' him within its terrible jaws until the life gushed frae his mooth.
I wis the last one left. Torch in one hand, William's sword in the other, I crept in the shadows toward the gate's set o' ropes, intent on trappin'g the cursed beast.