I was weak and in pain, and still quite frightened, yet the old fart was speaking to me in riddles. "A symbol? What symbol? What's down here that's so damn precious your secret society had to protect it with a monster?"

"It's the heart, laddie. The heart o' oor king, Robert the Bruce. It's the Braveheart!"

"The Braveheart?" I shook my head, then stopped, the pain causing me to suspect a concussion. "The Black Douglas tossed the Bruce's heart into battle long ago."

"Folklore," Angus called out. "The Black Douglas died in battle, but oor ain kinsman, Sir Adam, secreted the Braveheart back tae the Highlands. The Templar brought it doon here, so that any English who sought Scotland's Holiest o' Grails wid have tae face Satan's ain demons tae claim it."

MacDonald handed me his spare flashlight. "Search quickly, afore the Guivre returns tae feed upon yer faither!"

"She'll no' feed again, no' on my clan," Angus bellowed, moving to the edge of the river. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a shard of glass he'd found in Aldourie Castle. Steadying the light in his left hand, he sliced open his wrist, allowing the blood to drip into the water.

"I ken ye can smell that, dragon. Why no' come up for a wee taste, eh?"

Angus removed the two G-SHOK charges and fuses from his pocket, readying them in his free hand. "Come on up, Nessie. Come up an' taste this."

The bad air and dense smoke were getting to me, keeping me in fits of coughs. The fires had died out, the chamber dark, save for our lights, and I knew I had to leave soon.

Something burst forth from the river, jump-starting my pulse.

Angus wheeled around, shining his flashlight a hundred paces to the west. "Whit wis that?"

I left the wall, staggering back toward the river and the large object now floating slowly down stream. "It's okay," I called out, "it's just the life-support barrel from—

"—Angus!"

The river erupted behind my father, the wave washing him backwards as the monster's jaws snapped upon the air where he'd stood not a second earlier.

Through whiffs of smoke I saw Angus crawl toward his fallen light as the Guivre's entire eel-like form shot out of the water, its forward pectoral fins propelling its slime-covered girth along the rocky shoreline after my father.

From his back, Angus tossed his explosives just as the creature lashed out at him like a striking python. The twin concussion blasts missed the monster but reignited the ceiling, causing the creature to shirk away.

But only for the moment.

Angus tried to run, but the Guivre cut him off, encircling him with its enormous fifty-two-foot serpent's body. Yellow eyes, blinded from my own detonations, reflected orange flames as the demented creature inhaled the air, searching for her quarry.

Seconds counted and I had nothing, not a weapon, not a—

Whomp!