Demon Haunt
Prelude
The tiny cottage was dingy and decrepit. Broken furniture lay on tattered rugs. Most of the wooden slats in the shutters covering the windows were cracked. The interior of the hut was smoky, no doubt due to a poorly maintained chimney.
The aged owner of the hovel cowered before her visitor, fearful of his stern glaze.
"Nothing else? You're sure?" the fat man barked at the old woman.
"No, my Lord, nothing! I'm certain." the crone whined.
The man wiped his sweaty face with a green silk cloth. Damn but it was hot in here! All this way and still nothing. None of his contacts had the information he wanted. He paid his informers well and paid those he set to watch the informers even better, but no solid lead for the last five years, only rumor and hearsay. No more time could be wasted on the old woman.
The man dropped some silver coins on the floor.
"For your troubles, old one. Good night to you." He turned and walked towards the door, looking forward to the embrace of the cool and smoke-free night air outside the hut. Perhaps it was time to take more direct action, even if it was forbidden by the Guild.
"Good night, Lord Harlock," the old woman bowed, finishing the bow by stooping further down to collect the coins that lay before her feet.
The man stopped short of the door and slowly turned toward the woman.
"How is it that you know that name?" he asked in a quiet voice that sent chills along the aged woman's bent spine.
She crouched over the money on the floor, head crooked around at a peculiar angle, looking up at him, fear in her watery eyes.
"Mi'Lord?" she asked.
"That name. From whom did you hear that name?"
The old woman looked around quickly from side to side like an animal in a trap.
"He told you, didn't he? No need to answer old woman, I see the truth in your eyes. He told you my name - a mistake on his part. All this time, all these years, you have collected silver from us both. Isn't that right? I paid you to spy, and he paid you to lie. So, now I know!"
The old woman cringed before the man. She slowly slipped to the floor, the coins forgotten.
"His actions prove his guilt. By turning you in to one of his spies he has betrayed the Guild. At last I have him! Your greed has made you less careful then one in your position should have been. You also have betrayed me old one, and that is something that cannot be left unpunished."
He advanced towards the old woman drawing a small dagger from beneath his robes. The firelight played across its blue blade causing the light to reflect on to the walls of the hut. That shining blue blade was the last thing the poor old soul saw.
A few minutes later the man called Lord Harlock left the cottage and walked to the carriage he had left waiting on the roadside. Still sweating from his work, he heaved his bulk into the seat and snapped a command to the driver.
"Back to Furness, and don't spare the nags."
He looked back at the hut and saw flames dancing in the windows and doorway of the old woman's home. By the time the coach reached the bottom of the hill the hut was ablaze. He enjoyed fire. It was cleansing. He turned in his seat and settled back into the comfortable leather. Soon it would be time to call on an old 'friend'.