Chapter One
The Next Morning
Lara brought the dark blue Jeep she'd rented to a stop outside the house. In a bag on the passenger seat, she had all the tools she would need if she were to succeed in preventing hell coming to earth. Her pistols rested on top of the black bag that held everything from hammers to chalk. She pocketed a set of lock picks, though she didn't think she would need them and after slipping on the twin holsters that were her trademark, she picked up the black bag and swung it over her shoulder. She was dressed in a white tee-top and black pants. A pair of combat boots and braided hair finished the look that was practical, yet sexy.
Crossing the over grown yard proved to be more tricky than it would normally have been. Twice, she was forced to stop while she cut thick, ropy vines from around her ankles. She swore that the had moved to grab her. A third time she stopped to look in horror at a pile of animal bones in a clearing in the middle of the yard. It wasn't visible from the street and she steered well clear of it, too wise to become it's next victim. The sight of so many dead animals in one place sobered her a little and she proceded with more caution.
After about ten minutes, she reached the front stoop. She made her way carefully up the shallow steps, trying to avoid the areas of worst rot. The front door itself was powdery with age and yielded easily to a hard kick. She paused on the threshold, not afraid to enter the room, just giving her eyes chance to adjust to the gloom after the weak sun-shine outside. Once she could see, she stepped into the room, wary of what could lay inside.
The room was empty except for a few rats which scattered in alarm as she approached. Large areas of the floor had fallen through and she was forced to proceed with great care to avoid falling through the rotting wooden floor. Twin white humps at either side of the fireplace turned out to be sofas covered in dustsheets. She frowned at them and what the meant. Someone in the house had survived the Dagger's curse long enough to cover the furniture.
She pitied their final moments. From what she'd read, the blade first turned the souls it had captured insane before killing them by draining the life force from their unresisting bodies. The length of time the draining- properly called the 'Gebo', after the Norse rune of Sacrifice, of Yielding the Sprit, depended on the person's strength of will. It could last a very long time and was horrifying for the victim.
Realising that she was wasting time, she continued through the house, not knowing the exact whereabouts of the magical item she was seeking. The next room she came to was a kitchen. The window had been smashed and had been boarded over, leaving the room in mock twilight. On the floor, in the corner of the room, she saw something that looked like a pile of rags. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a body. The rats had gnawed most of the flesh away and what little was left had decayed into almost nothing.
Lara turned with a heavy heart, feeling the loss as if she'd known the person herself. It was her family that had unleashed the power of the dagger onto the world. Her Grandfather had found it before his death. It had been stolen from the Croft manor by a band of crooks that wanted ultimate power. She had been searching for it most of her adult life, just as her father had.
She moved on, murmuring a quick prayer that she would not end up like the fellow in the room she had just left. The air had a faint, musky odour that she didn't like at all. It wasn't unpleasant, but it didn't fit with the house. It was too sweet, too fresh. The wall beneath her fingers was rough and slightly damp. Each step she took made the floor creak slightly. She tread lightly, watching where she put her boot-clad feet. A fall through the old floor could mean a broken leg or worse. She couldn't afford to take the risk by rushing.
As she moved along a long, narrow hallway, it grew darker. She reached around and grabbed a lightstick from the pack on her shoulders. Flashlights were too unreliable- you never knew when the batteries might die, leaving you without light. She'd learned that lesson early and had carried lightsticks ever since. There was a flashlight in her pack, but she would save it for when she needed brighter light.
The lightstick sprang to life after she banged it on her arm. The muted green-white light it gave out was more then adequate to light up the section of hallway in front of her. The wallpaper on the walls was dark red, and had large green-brown flowers every few inches. A few feet in front of her was the first of five doors. All but two hung open. The dark brown paint had faded and cracked, giving the doors a run-down appearance.
Lara stepped into the first door and stopped dead. The floor in the room had fallen through, leaving a fifteen-foot drop to the stone cellar floor below. She swatted a thick cobweb way from her face and peered downwards. All she could see was that the cellar appeared empty from where she stood. As she watched, the cellar floor seemed to move a little. Automatically, her hands went to her hips and she pulled out her guns without taking her eyes off the floor below her. Without realising it, she leaned further over the ragged edge, placing strain on the already weak floor joists.
The floor creaked warningly, but it was already too late to do anything. The floor directly below her collapsed, sending her hurtling towards the waiting stone floor. A small gasp of shocked surprise escaped her lips as she landed, hard. Then the world went away.