The Apple.

Spencer was easy to keep in check. Floyd had rarely had a problem with him and when a problem did arise it was usually a good excuse to slap him. It irritated Floyd when Spencer took things to the line... that line which Spencer knew he must not cross. So sitting back in the room Floyd made a decision to move the line again. He'd already had to caution Spencer about the teeth thing and Spencer seemed to have responded to that very quickly. Too quickly. He needed something else now.

Sam... Sam was not so easy to keep in check. Sam was a mouth brat who would happily get everyone into trouble just to see the fireworks. He was another who responded to sudden pain quite well. Floyd looked over at him sitting with his back squashed into the corner and a trickle of blood running out of his nose. It had been a light tap... just enough to draw blood, and the reason had simply been that Sam had looked at him funny.

Fine... Sam hadn't looked at him. But it was Sam or Spencer and Spencer was not giving Floyd much of an excuse. There was also the matter that Floyd didn't want Spencer mentioning the two blokes who had spoken to them earlier.

Then there was Levin... Levin who responded very well to fear. The Seraphim was living in a world of terror. Nothing Floyd could do to him would make things worse for Levin. Sure he could mangle his pretty face and give him a split lip, but...

… but there was so much more pleasure in killing something when it was beautiful.

The room had gone silent. Sam's sniffing and Levin's sobs were the only sounds. Spencer had not said a thing against what Floyd had done... not a thing.

'I'm going out.' Floyd jumped to his feet. 'Don't leave the room.'

'Can I come with you?' That was Sam's slightly nasally voice and Floyd didn't bother answering him.

Floyd looked at Levin. 'About a ten minute walk from here, deeper into the maze of streets is a place called The Fountain of Bones. It's a beautiful place. A large – bowl – in the ground full of water. The place is dark and damp and there's even plant life growing there. The water isn't all that deep, but it's infested with insects and weird eyeless fish things and croaking frogs with all the eyes the fish are missing. There's huge bloated wet, grey things which slide across the ground, yet it is also beautiful. Stay here.'

Floyd hoped that was enough of an explanation.

He stood the other side of the door... taking deep breaths... hoped it was an explanation? He lied so much now, about most everything he said that even his thoughts were lies. He rubbed at his temples and counted to ten. There were no sounds from beyond the door, so assuming no one was going to follow, Floyd left, checking his skinning knife was in place.

Back in the room, Levin had a crease on his brow. It was the closest he'd ever come to frowning in public. He rubbed at it and looked at Sam and then looked over at Spencer.

'For the life of me... Has he lost his marbles?' Levin asked.

'He's never had any.' Sam moaned. 'He's just a bastard.' A sniff. 'And I don't care about you two, well at least I don't care about Spencer, but I'm not sticking around so he can hit me again.

Levin said nothing but his lips parted as though he might, and that crease disappeared. Spencer though shook his head. 'Can you at least wait until I can come with you?'

Sam now was the one who was frowning. 'Why do you want to come with me? You don't like me. I'll get you killed. You'll not live long. I'll make sure of that. You'll get in the way. You're stupid. You killed yourself to be with him, so why do you want to leave? He stayed with you. He stayed and waited and he was there with you... Levin too. He stayed with him... Me? Oh me... yes Sam, it's only Sam... Sam doesn't matter. Sam doesn't need comfort when he's dying. Sam doesn't need to know that there's someone out there who cares...'

'I'd hardly say that sitting watching me die and then eating parts of me, was showing that he cared.' Levin pointed out. 'And it was you who put the knife in my chest and left me...'

'I was talking about me... not you. I died in a ditch. I was left to die there alone with no one. He let someone else kill me. He didn't even do it himself. He didn't give a shit then and he doesn't give a shit now. I hate him.' Sam stumbled to his feet, tripped on the chain and fell to the floor again. 'I fucking hate you Flanders!' He called out. But Floyd was long gone by then. 'Why does he hate me so much? Why does he do this?'

Spencer who was sitting on the side of the bed leaned forwards. 'He does that to you because he knows how strong you are.' Spencer tried to reason with Sam. 'If he'd done that to me or to Levin then we'd not have come here with him... can't you see that? I'm just... well just...'

'A cock sucking bitch.' Sam helped him out.

'A mortal.' Spencer corrected. 'I have nothing special about me. I'd not be here if... I couldn't find my own way here. I don't know about Levin. I don't know enough about him, but I guess he's special in his own way, but still needed help to get here... you though... you are so very special that Floyd knew that you'd be able to do this. You're strong. You're focused. You're unique in so many ways.' Spencer had spent a considerable amount of time with Floyd and a lot of time with Sam too. He knew now how to play the boy. What to say to him... how to make him happy. 'Floyd needs you. He needs you, and that is why you were created. Don't you see how special you are? How... how... beautiful and...'

'You think I'm beautiful?' Sam asked.

'Even with a slightly swollen nose... yes.' Spencer sort of lied.

'Oh.' Sam pulled himself back into the corner. 'And Lev, do you think I'm beautiful?'

'Beautiful, intelligent, soft, and strong...'

'Soft and strong? You make me sound like a man sized tissue – with balsam.' Sam whined, but there was a bit of a smile on his face now. 'Fine, I'll stay.'

The medic arrived. Prodded Spencer's leg and told him he'd live. He didn't remove the dressing to see under it... Floyd wasn't there. He wasn't going to get paid. He was leaving. Spencer was told to walk on it... it was only bruised. Nothing that wouldn't soon get better. All the time he was talking to Spencer though, he was looking at Sam and Levin who were sitting with arms around each other. It almost looked as though the man was going to ask something, but he never did. He just left, slamming the door behind himself with what Spencer thought was actual disappointment. Again he wondered what the fee had been to fix him... and slowly he unravelled the bandages to see that the poultice had dried to a hard lump and the swelling indeed had gone down considerably. Levin checked the wound on his arm and pronounced that Almost Better – and so all Spencer needed now to feel like his old self was clothing which didn't smell of some old toilet on a summer day.

The toilet in the room was a raised rim on the floor. It wasn't something you sat on, but rather squatted over. Not something any of them wanted to do. If you listened carefully, you could hear things squishing around down there. Things which could, maybe, leap up and bite you somewhere sensitive... so they'd all avoided it, used a metal bucket and emptied it.

And they waited... Levin waited with his blank expression. Spencer wondered what the man was thinking about... he was sure that his mind was not on where he had his hands. That seemed to just be a natural thing The Seraphim could do without having to think about it. Again it caused Spencer to think of Levin as being a well tuned whore. There seemed to be nothing more to him. There was no personality... no humour... nothing to him at all, but that pretty face and fine clothing. Sam seemed restless, his eyes flicking between looking at Levin and looking at the door. He was waiting for Floyd as much as Spencer was... and it seemed like an airless and hot wait.

'It's so hot.' Spencer moved from where he'd left a sweaty patch on the bed.

'We're in hell. What did you expect?' Levin said. 'It's only going to get hotter.' Yet Levin still sat there in his dark red leather coat with the jewels encrusted over the shoulders and the ends of the sleeves. It made Spencer sweat just looking at him.

Levin fell asleep with his pretty head on Sam's lap. Spencer sat on the bed, having moved once again to a dry place... the stink coming from the clothing was enough to make him gag, but he was not going to get naked with Sam and Levin and no Floyd for protection. He sat and stared at the door, sweat dripping down his face and stinging his eyes... making his lips sore. There was no water to drink and only some of the horribly bitter ale which Sam sipped on occasionally. Footsteps outside the room... a creaking. Spencer didn't know whether to dive off the bed and hide or pull the bedding over him and hope he didn't die of the heat. Something told him that whoever it was outside the room wasn't Floyd. He could feel that his breathing had changed to short, shallow and fast breaths of panic. The sweat increased. He could feel it running down his sides and trickling down his spine. A rough hand movement wiped the sweat moustache he'd been beading on his upper lip. The creaking happened again... was that a sigh?

Water plopped off the end of Spencer's nose making him jump slightly as the door began to open. Desperately Spencer looked around for a weapon. They were going to die.

Those two gingers were back and were going to kill him and Levin and take Sam... Spencer readied himself to shout at Sam to run...

'Hey.'

It was Floyd.

Spencer dropped back onto the bed. He could feel his limbs shaking, the room was spinning... the air was so dense that he couldn't pull in a breath.

'Babes?' A hand was on the side of his face. 'Sam get something for him to drink... he's about to pass out.'

'Well it's not my job to keep him hydrated. He's been acting odd for the last few hours.' Sam got up and brought a cup of ale over. 'Where've you been? Did it cross your mind that we might have been worried? Spencer's been acting all out of sorts and you've been behaving like someone put maggots in your brain and Levin fell asleep... it's been... how can I put it? Entertaining.' Sam helped Spencer have a drink and then sat on the edge of the bed. He reeled off quickly what the medic had said and forwarded his hopes that they could get moving again... to somewhere else... because this part of hell was... hellishly boring.

'I got you something.' Floyd smirked at Sam. 'I got you all something. Wake Levin up.'

Sam and Floyd squeezed Levin into a cute little greyish green corset which pulled in his waist and looked very uncomfortable. At least Spencer thought it looked uncomfortable. The leather it was made of was strange and slightly wonderful though. It had a polished look to it. Levin was also provided with red silk knee breeches which had a pretty amount of ribbon and lace at the hem. Spencer gave a tight lipped smile as Levin stood there in this very strange get up. Spencer thought it gave him some sort of hope that Floyd had got him something like that too. Levin pulled his coat on again and covered it all up, but he was smiling. At least until Floyd told him to put the leg irons back on again.

Sam got a highly polished silver mirror, some ribbons for his hair, a brush and a nit comb... and some scented water – the room soon stank of over ripe roses. Sam also got a sleeveless leather jerkin and a brace of knives on a belt he could wear over his shoulder. Sam was happy. Sam was very happy. He sat brushing his hair and admiring himself in the mirror which was about the size of his hand. Easy to carry... and unbreakable.

Floyd then went back to the bed and sat down next to Spencer. 'I've got you something too.' Floyd rummaged in a pocket and asked Spencer to close his eyes and put out his hand. Sam and Levin were watching closely. They wanted to make sure that what Spencer got wasn't nicer than the gifts they'd been given.

The thing put in Spencer's sweaty palm was warm and damp. He closed his fingers around it was a frown formed on his face. At first he thought it was a wet, slightly spongy ball. But he opened his eyes and looked down at the wondrous gift Floyd had bought for him.

'An apple.' Spencer said. His lips felt strange and fuzzy and numb. His heart was pounding in his chest. He would have liked to have thrown this fantastic gift at the wall, but he didn't. He dug the tips of his fingers into the bruised and slightly wrinkled looking object and repeated. 'An apple.'

'You have no idea of the lengths I had to go to to find that. They're very rare down here.'

'Thank you.' Spencer lifted it to his nose and sniffed. It had a strong... ripe apply scent. Not the sort of thing you'd want to eat though. The juice was running out over Spencer's fingers where his nails had broken the skin. He blinked at it, moved it to his other hand and licked his fingers. 'Thank you Floyd.' He said... He wanted to cry. He wanted to shout and rage and tell Floyd that he would have liked something to wear that didn't stink of a dead man's last bodily functions. He wanted to tell Floyd that he didn't want his gift, but the man was watching him closely.

'Eat it.' Instructions from Floyd. 'Things from up top... as it were... they don't last long. They rot quickly... eat it. Now.' It was not a request.

'I could keep it.' Spencer said.

'You don't like it.' Floyd went to take it back again.

'NO!... No... Floyd I love it, it's just that once I've eaten it, then it's gone.'

'That's generally what happens with apples. Eat it. I want to see you enjoy it. I want to see those big teeth of yours biting into it. Give them a purpose... eat the apple, Spencer.'

Spencer looked over at Levin who had that crazy corset thing on and a pair of red silk breeches... then at Sam preening himself in the mirror, tying ribbons in his hair... and he looked down at the apple and smiled at it. He wanted to ask if he could cut it in half or quarters. He wanted to check there was nothing growing inside it which ought not be there, but that was showing mistrust and he had no reason to think that Floyd wanted him dead... Oh... he was already dead... he knew that, but what harm could an apple really do? He lifted it again to his nose. It had a smell of cider to it... the lovely scent of pressed apples. He could feel his mouth watering. Did it matter what it looked like? He did eat apples. Floyd knew that. Floyd had found something for him which he thought he'd like. And did he need a mirror or ribbons? No. Did he want red silk breeches and a strange corset? No to that as well. He turned the apple so that the bruised side was furthest from his mouth and took a bite. It was sweet and juicy. There was a wondrous explosion of sweet apple in his mouth and it actually wasn't even close to tasting as bad as it had appeared to be. Spencer closed his eyes and took another bite, another... the core, the pips... the little stork... the lot was gone in four or five bites and now he was slowly opening his eyes and lifting his hand to Floyd's face...

It was an offer Floyd couldn't refuse.

'You want me to eat your hand?'

'No.' Spencer licked his lips. 'Taste the apple juice.'

'You want your hand to be licked... ask Sam.' But Floyd was smirking in an amused way as he took Spencer by the wrist and carefully licked up all the sticky sweet apply syrup from Spencer's hand and fingers. 'You taste delicious.'

'Thank you. Thank you for the apple.'

'Well they're hard to find. I could have got you some clothes or something fancy, but that would have been easy.'

Spencer nodded. 'Yet these breeches are itchy.'

'And they stink. I'll find you something eventually. You surely didn't want red silk?'

'No... cotton. It's too hot here for silk. Levin must be sweltering in all that stuff.'

It seemed it was time to change the subject. Floyd removed his coat and dropped it to a puddle of dark cloth on the floor. He then lay on the bed and invited Spencer to return the favour and do some licking of his own. Sam and Levin were engrossed in each other and Spencer had become used to doing things in front of them.

'Can I ask you something?'

'Shoot... just lick at talk... if you can... and there...' Floyd guided Spencer's hand to his abdomen. '...perfect... talk.'

'When Levin removed his coat and you and Sam laced him into that corset thing... there were no bruises or marks on him... how did he heal so quickly?'

'He is The Seraphim. He can take it... now... there...' Again Floyd guided Spencer.

'Why isn't he dying with all those clothes on?'

'He's The Seraphim. Born of fire... he doesn't much feel the heat... at least not as we do.'

'Can he burn?'

'Want to set fire to him? Can you do your experiments in the Combustibility of The Seraphim and Other Unworldly Creatures, later?'

The four of them slipped into a slumber full of sweat, twitching and occasional yelps. There is only so much rest Floyd could take though and so he left them sleeping and went down to see if there was anything going on down there which could hold his interest for more than five minutes.

It seemed not.

The bard was twanging something soulful in the corner and so it was to him that Floyd went, pulling up a stool and sitting facing him... watching those long fingers slide over the little harp which was sitting on the young man's knee.

'Sing to me.' Floyd told him.

The man looked up at Floyd and twitched a smile. 'What do you want? Some battle ballad. A love song? Something to sooth your aching – whatever aches?'

'A battle ballad. Give me blood and death... I need some desperation and fear. Not my own, you understand. Yours.'

'My desperation? My fear?'

'Your blood and your screams... sing... or I'll make you sing the song my heart really desires.'

The man started to look nervous. His collar length brown hair was clean... his clothes too seemed clean as did the feather in his hat. 'The Song of the Dying.' He muttered as he tweaked out a couple of notes.

'Take your hat off.' Floyd interrupted... not waiting for the man to remove it, but swept it off his head where it landed it a sticky puddle of spilt drink on the floor. 'Look at me when you sing. You're singing to me, not yourself.'

'There will be tears in the river...' He started. 'You will be missed...' twangly twang 'You never said goodbye... There are flowers in the river...' He didn't get further...

Spencer woke up as Floyd crept back into the room some hours later. He was stuck to the bedding and so hot and dizzy he thought this was it... the end... he was going to die... He sipped on some of the ale and looked across the room at Sam and Levin... curled up, snoring lightly.

'How can they sleep like that?'

'Sam is a minor demon and Levin is created from fire... could be the reason?' Floyd tickled Spencer under the chin with a feather. 'We could leave today. I've been considering different places to go and where I'm going to get the answers I need and I think that the jungle is a poor idea. You should have told me... reminded me... or at least objected in some manner... but no. We'll cross The Lava Bridge and move onwards that way. There's great cities out there where I can get hold of proper money and I can get you some cotton breeches. There's nothing here suitable. Silk is far too hot to wear at this temperature. It'll stick to you like a second skin... and show every crease and curve and dip on your body... and those are my special places.' He threw the feather to the side. 'So... Spencer, the time will come when I will have to...'

Spencer put a finger on Floyd's lips. 'No...' A quick shake of the head. 'I don't want to hear of endings. I can't bare the idea of not having you with me. I don't want to think or consider or choose anything, so please, do not ask.'

'I was going to ask...'

'No.' A firmer voice this time. 'You want me to tell you how I'd rather die.'

Floyd's face flashed a look of puzzlement and then smoothed out again. It was horribly like the way Levin shielded his emotions. 'Fine. I'll choose, but I wasn't going to ask that.'

'I'd rather you didn't. Can't we just carry on, the pair of us... just the two of us...'

'And leave them behind?' Floyd gestured at Sam and Levin.

'They're happy.'

'I can't.' Floyd gave Spencer a long hard look. 'You dislike Sam that much?'

'Not at all. I dislike Levin that much.'

'So much you'd see him dead?'

Spencer laid back on the bed again, but didn't answer the question. 'Tell me about this lava bridge thing... talk to me about what we're going to see. I know that this isn't meant to be a vacation, but I need you to talk... I need to hear your voice. You keep disappearing – going off – that feather... it was in the hat of the guy doing the music.'

'Ah.' Floyd replied. 'Do my actions upset you?'

'I don't know what your actions are. You sneak out and play your games out of view. I can only assume that this is because I'll not approve of what you're doing.'

'You'd not approve. I don't have the time or energy to spend hours trying to explain to you the politics of this place. It's just easier.'

Spencer chewed on his thumb nail for a while as he watched Floyd pull his waistcoat off. Floyd looked ruffled and damp. 'I would like to know a little more than I do, though. Not the politics... you're right. I'd never understand it. And if I did, then I'd not approve and one ex FED isn't going to make too much of a difference doing a one man protest outside some demonic embassy in hell. So no... you're correct. It would take too long and you seem about ready to leave. What I'd like to have though... is less... no... more information and less surprises. I'd like you to curb whatever impulses you're getting to go out killing. I want you to admit that even down here creatures have the right to live – if you can call this living. If you ever felt anything for me – and I'm sure you did once, please just do that for me.'

Floyd waved his hand in the direction of the sleeping companions. 'Everyone has a purpose in life. It's why you are created. It's why your parents fucked and made you. You did some good stuff, Babes. You saved lives. That was the whole point in your life. You weren't made to procreate or give your seed to someone who could... you know? You had a place on the playing board and every playing board has a game in play at some point and every game comes to an end... doesn't matter how much of a cheat you are... it will end... and when you play with the masters, you can't win. It's that simple. The game came to a sudden and crashing end, and I cheated... I even begged a little. It's a blinding pain when you are told that the playing piece is to be taken away... fewer and fewer pieces are there and substitutes are only good for a short while. They crumble. Then the board is swept clean and we start over again.'

'Is this meant to be making sense?'

Floyd nodded. 'Anthony... had reached the end of his path. I guarded him... I might have even loved him. He looked a bit like you.' Floyd twitched a smile. 'Though I doubt that idea gives you too much pleasure. It had reached that point... I'd begged. I'd asked for an extension... I was ignored. Either I took him off the playing board or they did... so... well you know... Same with Little River. For the gods... that man was beautiful. Skin like a polished nut... hair that shone blue in the sun... dark blue... you know what I'm talking of. So strong... such clever hands. Again... he's gone. I'll never see him again. It hurts.' Spencer said nothing. Was this meant to make him feel sorry for him? If so, it was not working. 'Then you. Now with Anthony and Little River I only knew them for a few years. I only knew them as adults. You're different. I can not allow them to take you from me. I refused to end your life myself... they would have destroyed you in a way which I'd never be able to see you again. I couldn't have that. So I forced you to kill yourself. A whole body. A beautiful corpse... my god, you died in a way I've never seem before. It was fantastic. It hurts my soul just thinking of the way you lay there, slowly cooling... the blood pooling downwards in your body. The crazy way your skin changed colour, like dark purple and red marble.'

'Enough.' Spencer really didn't want to hear this.

'No... you asked and I'm telling you. I'm trying to tell you. I want you. I need you forever. Sam... Sam will die. Levin will go eventually too, but you? Never. I'll turn my back on that fucking forest. I'll never see the old woman again. I'll throw it away... but I will be with you.'

'No.' Spencer felt silly. He felt as though he wanted to stick his fingers in his ears.

'Yes.' Floyd grabbed Spencer's hands and rubbed his thumbs over the back of his hands. 'For an eternity. Nothing can stop... nothing until time ends... Ask Sam about Entropy.'

'I don't need to.'

'Then you know. The further we descend, the deeper into chaos. It will get worse, Babes. Nothing here will ever improve. We'll see great cities, marvellous creatures and eat fantastical food... and ride on the back of striped, and hairy beasts, but chaos will follow. It's dragged along behind us like the curse we are. Tomorrow... the day after... soon... soon The Seraphim will die.' Floyd paused. 'I'll make very sure of that.'

'Why?'

'Because he is what he is... and to keep you I have to follow the orders of the ones I've put my money on.'

'What about The Great Forest and your need to return. You can't throw that away.'

'Too late. Already done. Now... get ready... we leave at first... well... when they wake.'

So he was acting the martyr. It was a side of Floyd not seen often, but when it was seen, it was not to be believed. He'd just run out of lies for some reason, or was distracted... but the little speech gave no answers to anything, except it made Spencer wonder exactly what was going to happen to him and how much longer life was going to drag on... because this was a drag. He wanted to be with Floyd... yes! Of course he did, but like this? No.

'That cabin in the woods is looking very nice right now.' Spencer muttered. 'I asked you to tell me about the lava bridge. How can we cross it if it's made of lava?'

Floyd was throwing pillows at Sam and Levin and telling them to wake up. It was the crack of something which might as well be dawn, and time to leave. 'Get ready. Pack anything you want to take in pockets and if you can't carry it, I've a shoulder bag... so nothing too heavy.' Floyd then gave Spencer a withering look. 'The bridge goes over the lava. It's made of stout stone which will not break or bend or melt... still best to keep moving though.'

'Uh.' Sam jumped to his feet. 'The Lava Bridge? I don't want to cross that. We've nothing to give the bloke. What will we pay him with?'

'Let me worry about that.' Floyd let him know, but a cold silence passed between the four of them as they packed away the very few things they had. Spencer hoped that Floyd had a plan... a plan beyond thinking that he'd worry about such things later. A better plan than not having a plan... any sort of plan which didn't involve killing them.

Spencer wanted to know what the point of this trip was. Where were they going? Was this just a slow trot to a slow death so that Floyd could get a tick in the correct box for a change? He knew so very well, that he shouldn't ever trust Floyd. Floyd was the most untrustworthy person he'd ever met. He made no promises... he never apologised... he always thought he was right and he changed his mind constantly. With one breath he was saying he had everything under control and with the next he was blaming everyone else for things turning sour.

'A plan?' Spencer found he was asking, and for what point! Why bother asking such a thing. Floyd would only lie about it.

'Of course.' And there it was!

'The truth?' Spencer asked now.

'Truth? Only fools tell the truth. Are you ready?'

For now the collar wasn't used, but Sam and Levin were both back in leg irons and one of them – not Levin – was complaining bitterly about the harsh treatment he was getting from someone who was meant to love and care for him. Floyd ignored Sam's whining and held Spencer's hand, leading the way and letting Levin and Sam fall in behind.

Spencer noted the way the buildings, though higher than he could see... really they just carried on up and never seemed to end... they spread out though... the roads as such, became wider. The side passages became less like passages and more road like. The houses had cloth dangling from windows and door ways – coloured silks fluttered in a hot airless breeze. There were more signs above what seemed to be shops... things displayed in glassless windows. Women and men standing leaning on walls watching the people passing. Some held out what Spencer thought were begging bowls, some had children clinging onto aprons or sucking at teats... some had no clothes on and some were dressed in a fashion not unlike Levin... long leather or velvet coats of every colour Spencer could imagine. There were things which could pass as dogs, cats, real rats... and then there were the ones which honestly, now Spencer could see them properly, they did look different. Oh of course they looked like children, but there was almost a black aura around them, like a million buzzing insects, floating there, following them... Some had eyes which glinted in the shadows or reflected the bright colours of the leathers and silks hanging from doors and windows, but themselves... they seemed dull and lifeless. Spencer wanted to ask Floyd about them, but they were rats... that would be what Floyd would tell him. There really was no need to question it. That however didn't mean that Spencer thought it was fine to kill them. They were still intelligent beings and still they had lives they were trying to live. Spencer noted that Floyd seemed to be looking into every shadow and doorway. He wanted to ask him if he was looking for the ginger guy with the eye patch, but thought it wise not to point out that Floyd's nervousness – if it could be called that – was so obvious that he had noted it. Best to just let Floyd concentrate on what was going on. Floyd also kept checking that Sam and Levin where still there. And indeed they were. Spencer thought it very unlikely that Sam would run off now and Levin seemed more than content to stay with them... yet there was the constant threat that Floyd was going to do something to all of them.

He felt Floyd's hand tighten around his and he looked down at their hands and then up at Floyd's face. 'Is there something wrong?'

'Not yet.' Was the reply. 'You're not thinking of running off are you?'

Spencer responded by squeezing Floyd's hand back. 'Absolutely not. Where would I go?'

Floyd gave a one shouldered shrug and eased up a bit on the clamp like hold he had. 'Just that things might get messy.'

Such comforting words. Messy – now that could mean anything. 'When?'

'Not now.' And that was the end of it. Floyd didn't seem to want to discuss it further and so for now Spencer let it go. It was a warning though.

The streets seemed to spread out wide enough for small paved squares. Some had small fountains in the middle of them with towering statues of what Spencer assumed were gods or demons of some sort. Some had waxy residue around them as though thousands of candles had been burning there. Some had bits of bone scattered in front of them... others had dozens of kneeling people. A few had heads on spikes... or limbs... limbs which seemed to glow. It was at this point that Levin moved up next to them and took Floyd's arm in his gloved hand.

'I had a dream about this.'

'You had a memory about this maybe, but not a dream.'

'What are they? Why do they glow?' Levin sounded as though he was going to break out into sobs of fear.

'The limbs of children, I'd think. They're not very big.' Floyd replied. 'They are farmed and then put in the mould gardens where the fungus grows over flesh... it is sort of luminous or Fluorescent and burns the skin if you touch it... chemical buns, so don't even think of trying to remove them. It's just a way to give light without having to burn precious oils. This is a holy... anti holy... no... It's a place of quiet thought and contemplation. It's a resting place for the mind and spirit... it's a place we're not hanging around in... come on.' Floyd shoved Levin back to walk next to Sam and they carried on.

The buildings became further and further away from each other and the actual structures were narrower, like tall black columns going forever upwards... doors and windows at the base and curling and winding on and up until the colours were like flags on the top of castle towers. There were tents now... occasionally lean-to buildings made of what seemed to be impossibly big bones and leather and rags all tied together and there were spikes growing out of the rocky floor... wooden spikes which might have once been trees, metal spikes which might have once been... well... metal spikes... Spencer couldn't see a reason for them apart from the colours fluttering from the top. Some were the hight of a man... some twenty foot tall and some were so small that you could tread on them if not careful. They all seemed to be barbed. Some had what looked to be bits of flesh stuck to them and then when they saw a man impaled on one with the spike blooming out of his chest... at that point Spencer stopped looking at them and wondering what they were for.

The columns of rock eventually ended and in their place were more of the coloured tents and pavilions. The ground was slightly soft under foot and the people kept their distance, yet the sky was still coal black and the only light was coming from fire pits, lanterns and glowing body parts which were hanging across the way like some creepy bunting. Street lighting. This felt almost familiar though. The pavilions were of the sort he'd seen before and the floor had that almost rubbery feel he'd expected from the beginning, yet he could not remember how far back... how long ago the floor had changed.

The people here were all very brightly attired and mostly they seemed to be in knee breeches and fancy jackets made of gaudy velvets and lace. It was as though they'd walked from one world and into another. The air here was still hot and stuffy, but the stench of boiled bones and rotting flesh had gone. There was certainly a background smell of human waste, but over that was a strong scent of incense and candles. Spencer could hear running water from somewhere and in the far distance was a very strange orange glow. He'd had thought it a sun rise or maybe a sun set, but he knew it couldn't be. The women here were in long dresses which swept along on the ground, but the top half of the dresses seemed to stop just under the breasts, pushing them up and over flowing onto the bodice of the dresses which were in colours just as bright and – dare he think – revolting as the men had on. As they walked closer Spencer noted that the men were wearing odd high heeled shoes – two inches high maybe, with buckles, lace... ribbons... he couldn't see the feet of the women as the clothing appeared to be too long. There were children too, but they stood out because of the lack of colour. They seemed to all be wearing white smocks... it was hard to tell the boys from the girls. They all had long hair and they all had smocks on. The men... as well as the women had makeup... white powdered faces, lips made red... and blush on the cheek bones. If Spencer had been asked what he thought of this place he would have labelled it creepy... very creepy.

'What's that glow?' But as soon as he said it, he knew. 'The lava we mean to cross?' He answered himself and Floyd therefore had no reason to answer as well.

'How much do you trust me?' Was what Floyd actually said.

That was a leading question and Spencer didn't want to have to answer it... but the tightening of Floyd's hand around his was an indication that a reply was needed. 'I died for you. I trusted that you'd be waiting for me. I think that means that I trust you completely.' Though why he did was another question and he hoped Floyd wouldn't delve that deep. Floyd's emotions were there for everyone to see, Spencer attempted to conceal his a bit... just a bit and this was because showing happiness when Floyd wanted sad... or showing too much love when Floyd was not in the mood... it all lead to a bad and painful place. Better to keep things hidden... teeth included.

'The Bridge Keeper will ask for a fee. We will have to pay it to cross.'

'We're not talking about money are we?'

Floyd shook his head. 'We are rather more talking about The Seraphim. But before you go off on one and start to complain and tell me what a class A bastard I am, remember that he will die and be reborn in fire.'

'No.' Spencer told Floyd. 'You surely not... you're not considering... Not throwing him into the lava?'

'No... no... Spencer... no... not considering it at all. All considering took place weeks ago... maybe even before I ate part of him. All that was long ago sorted. He knows. He might not like it, but he knows... Don't fucking give me that damned look! Where do you get the damned gall to try to force your will on me? I told you... you have to be ruthless. You cannot show weakness. Not here Spencer. Not ever. Show one kink in your armour and you're dead. The Seraphim will come back to us. Later... later on... he'll show up again. He's sort of bound, but don't stop me from doing what we have to do. It's the payment that will be made. I'll not change my mind. I will cross that bridge with you and Sam.'

Spencer muttered something under his breath which got him a punch in the side of the face hard enough to knock him off his feet. Spencer didn't see it coming and even if he had, he'd not have defended against Floyd. He skidded along the floor, the rubbery surface burning exposed bits of flesh and taking a layer of skin off the side of his ribs. It was Sam who came clanking and running to help him, but Spencer didn't need Sam's help. He pushed him away and told him to return to Levin. And slowly got back to his feet. He could taste blood in his mouth where his teeth had cut the inside of his cheek. He spat out, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and wordlessly returned to stand next to Floyd. For a while the four of them stood in silence.

'You're attitude will get you killed.' Floyd finally spoke.

'I had to say how I was feeling.'

'For sure. I had to try to knock some of your teeth out. Now we're even.'

Again what was going on around them changed. The floor remained that rubbery feeling of a sports floor and that orange glow was less distant, but the pavilions were much more spaced out. Large metal cages hung from ornate poles and inside of the metal cages were bodies covered in the strange glowing mould. It was the only light to see by though and it was vile and it was not something Spencer would recommend for the Vegas strip, but it was a light source and it stopped them from feeling as though they were walking in circles.

Sam and Levin were muttering between the pair of them. Spencer attempted to listen in on what was being said, but he only caught the occasional word and that didn't really help. He wanted to know if Levin had any idea of his fate. Spencer wanted to be brave – no... Spencer wanted to be stupid enough to turn to Levin and tell him to run. It would be the last thing Spencer ever did, he was sure of that much, but the thought that they were slowly walking to the place where Levin was going to be sacrificed for them... well that made him feel sick.

'I can't.' Spencer finally said as the last of the tents sprawled out behind them.

'Can't what?'

'Can't sit back and let you do this. It's murder and...'

'Murder. Now you have an opinion on my lifestyle? After all these years you finally tell me that you don't appreciate the methods I use to keep you alive.'

'This isn't for me though, is it?'

Floyd twitched a smirk at Spencer. 'No. This is entirely for me. My own self. And you are going to have to put up with it Spencer, because I'll beat you bloody and drag you over the fucking bridge if you don't come willingly.'

The bridge stood about ten foot wide and maybe two hundred foot long. There stood a small canvas tent and a man outside of it wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a metal breastplate. He was bald and had only one ear. In place of the missing one was a deep purple coloured gash in the side of his head. He hailed them with a wave of the hand and gestured for them to walk closer. And it was now that Floyd turned to Sam and Levin and after giving Sam a look which was so intense and holding so much of a warning, that Sam took a step back, leaned forwards and vomited onto the floor. The hot puke splashed his legs... and was now mixed with blood and snot. Sam was making a fine mess on the nice black rubbery floor. Levin was pulled forwards and now Floyd was turning to look at Spencer, but after seeing the effects of the stare on Sam, Spencer averted his own eyes and looked away, looked at Sam... looked away from Levin who was squalling like a child as the chains rattled and he was begging...

'Please no... please... please don't... please.'

Spencer hunkered down with his back to Floyd and Levin. He kept his eyes on Sam who was himself howling for Floyd to stop... for someone to stop him. 'Don't! Floyd don't...' And when Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and tears managed to tumble out and down his face and unable to watch Sam now, who was on his knees blubbing and shooting filth from all orifices... Spencer couldn't help. He was immobile... cowardly... trying to cut out Sam's crying and pleading for someone to help Levin. But when he cut out Sam's cries all he could hear were Levin's.

He didn't see what went on between Floyd and the Bridge Keeper. He didn't see Floyd pull his knife and push Levin in front of him to the edge of the river of lava. He could hear Levin's screams... girlish and high pitched... then the sound stopped and all he could hear was Sam.

When Floyd touched Spencer on the shoulder he let out a scream of his own. He was still immobilised by the horror of what Floyd had just done. He couldn't look at him. He couldn't look at Sam... who Spencer was sure, had just had his heart broken...

'I warned you. I said it'd get messy.' Floyd grabbed Spencer's hand. 'You didn't think I'd just throw him into the lava did you? What sort of a cunt do you think I am? I'd do that to no person... I cut his throat first. He felt nothing.'

That was meant to make everything better. That was supposed to be the right thing to do? It didn't change the fact that Floyd killed someone just so they could cross a bridge, and before you even think that Spencer was getting feelings for Levin... no... you don't have to like someone to feel that murdering them was wrong! And Sam, now curled up on the floor howling like a dog... still puking... bleeding from his nose and telling Floyd that he'd hate him forever and and never kiss his dick again.

'I'm not going with you.' Sam snapped at Floyd when he was told to get moving.

'You are. I need you.' Floyd growled back with annoyance.

'Need me? What for?'

Floyd licked his lips. 'You're mine. I'll do to you what I feel is necessary. Just don't force my hand.' He took Spencer by the hand. 'Now we cross.'