Desperate Measures, Part 1: The Truth?
Demona's big armoured Van

Jezebel frowned as she drove the enormous vehicle along the road, driving perhaps just a little too aggressively.

What Demona had proposed was insanity!

Reckless! Dangerous! They might even be helping Brooklyn along!

Her hands squeezed the driving wheel tightly.

But it was the only way either of them could think of.

She cursed silently under her breath and turned her full attention back to the road.

*****

"You care a lot about him don't you?"

Fang turned his attention to where Faith was sitting opposite him. He looked down at Malibu, who was leaning up against him, asleep. He had been crying on Fang's shoulder while the others had been outside looking through the carnage in Sudeny and had eventually fallen asleep there. Fang didn't have the heart to move him and had his wings around the clone to keep him warm.

He smiled.

"Yeah," he whispered, "I do."

He looked down at his friend affectionately. "He didn't really have the best start in life.but he still turned out okay." He looked at Faith. "He was cloned from Brooklyn a few years ago."

"So that's what he meant when he said Brooklyn was technically his dad," said Faith.

Fang nodded before continuing. "Anyway, his so called brothers and sister started giving him a really hard time a while back. I was the only person he could talk to. No one else would listen." He sighed. "Some nights he used to get really upset after the others beat the crap out of him, and no- one would believe him cause they couldn't understand how creatures as sweet as Delilah could turn on her own brother."

He growled.

"Except Maggie. She knew. But she didn't do anything because she hated him."

"Why? I think Malibu's very nice."

"It's cause he looks like Brooklyn."

Faith frowned at this. "Why would that make any difference?"

"Brooklyn tried to court her once but she couldn't stand him," snorted Fang. "That's all the reason she needed. Hateful little bitch." His face hardened. "I won't let anyone ever hurt him again. I swear it."

"I guess I was wrong about you," said Faith, her voice heavy. "You aren't as big an asshole as I remember."

Fang suppressed a laugh, gritting his teeth and grinning. "Well.you.are pretty much the way I remember you."

He stopped dead when he noticed the look Faith was giving him.

"But that's not a bad thing," he said quickly. "I.I."

He stopped and smiled. "I always loved the way you really beat the crap out of that guy that tried to mug you the second week we were seeing each other."

Faith put her hands over her mouth to try and stop herself from giggling but failed miserably. "Oh God! I remember that! It wasn't a mugger though was it? It was your friend Johnny!"

Fang thought for a minute before his smile grew even larger. "That's right! He jumped out to give us a scare and you kicked him in the balls!"

Both fought desperately to keep themselves from laughing so as not to wake Mal.

Fang uncapped his wing from around the clone and slid out from under him, gently laying him on the couch and took a cushion he found and placed it under Mal's head. He started looking around for a blanket when Faith handed him her leather coat. He whispered a thanks and placed over Mal's sleeping form. He moved over to the opposite side of the van and sat a few feet from where Faith was.

They remained silent for several minutes, Faith looking at the floor, while Fang stared at her. She looked terrible. Goliath had said she was pretty shaken up when they found the rest of her team.

Goliath had said that she took a DNA sample of each of them, before using some sort of acid in capsules in her coat to destroy the bodies.

No one could know they existed, she explained. If people knew why they had to exist, there might be a global panic.

"I'm sorry about your friends Faith," whispered Fang.

"They weren't my friends."

Fang frowned. "Then what were they?"

"Acquaintances," explained Faith sadly. "I have very few friends.mostly just acquaintances." She smiled bitterly at him, "you were one of the very few people I knew who could stand being around me."

Now it was Fang's turn to look at the floor.

"I'm sorry Faith," he said eventually, sincerely. "I was a lot younger then." He grinned. "I was.stupid.so fucking stupid back then.and.I am really sorry I hurt you." He hung his head slightly in shame. "When I was in that glass cage of Talon's.I used to think about you a lot when Mal wasn't around.I used to wonder what it would have been like if I'd just not freaked out when you suggested we get married.you seemed so damned urgent about it suddenly."

He looked up at her, "was there some reason for that?"

"No.just my father found out we made love a lot and him being sort of super religious.well he lectured me for hours on how it's a mortal sin to sleep with someone you're not married to."

She smiled slightly. "He went on and on about how I was going to go straight to Hell if I didn't break up with you." Her smile widened a little. "And me being young and in love.and a little rebellious.I decided to show him up by getting you to marry me." She looked up at him, her green eyes boring into Fang's, her smile becoming mischievous. "The best thing about it would have been that the father of the bride is expected to pay for the wedding.

"Don't tell me that's why you wanted to marry me?" asked Fang, a little shocked at this little revelation.

The smile on Faith's face vanished. "No.it wasn't.I suppose it really was because I loved you Peter.you've no idea what I went through after you left me.I was so angry at you then, and I still am a little.I wanted to hurt people, badly.after my father died I sold all his property and started wandering the globe. I'm not very sure why I did that now.but I was sure then. I think I was looking for you." She smiled at the way he grimaced at her before continuing. "Anyway. after about two years of wandering around I found myself in the Philippines. I came across this small missionary settlement out in the forests. Some people had died there recently in mysterious circumstances and the local priest had mistaken me for someone else. I didn't know who then but he told me some evil force was killing the villagers off and that he had contacted the bishop about it after the police couldn't find anything as he was convinced it was the work of the devil."

She paused as if she had to force the next part of her story out.

"I tried to explain to him that it was probably some sort of big cat but he showed me one of the bodies." She shivered. "A child. It had been completely drained of blood and the look of terror on its face."

She closed her eyes for a brief moment. Fang put a clawed hand on her shoulder and squeezed it.

"You don't have to go on if you don't want too," he whispered.

Faith shook her head. "I want to Peter.I want you to know just how I got involved in all this mess. How I ended up after you deserted me."
A flashback: An island in the Sulu Archipelago, the Philippines, May 1991

Father Alessandro Sanchez, Catholic priest and teacher, stared at Faith as she checked her things one last time before she headed out.

"I wish to come with you," he said after a moment.

Faith turned to look at him. She had only known him for a few hours, but she genuinely liked him.

He was heavily tanned and quite thin. The majority of the food that fed the small population of the town was rice and the occasional rabbit that were stored in a den that the Church had set up to provide some meat in the peoples' diets. They were all quite thin around here.

The father's faith had never wavered in the twelve years that he had been a missionary to these islands. He had seen a great many evils, all the product of man, yet what was killing those of his parish was not man made. It was not natural at all. It was vile, unearthly and evil.

She opened her mouth to tell him no, but paused when she looked at the resolve in his sea-green eyes.

"I only have one gun Father," she said eventually, drawing her late father's shotgun. It was double-barrelled, with a rosewood handle. It used to sit over the fireplace in another life. She had sawn off the majority of the barrels and had reduced the stock to a simple handle with the help of a saw, some files and a bit of sand paper, not bothering to paint it over.

Father Sanchez smiled at her. He took a woodcutter's axe that a villager offered him as he passed by. He made a few awkward swings with it in one hand. Faith had to restrain herself from laughing.

The priest noticed her amusement anyway. His smile vanished and the determination came back again.

"I may not be skilled in any form of fighting like you my child," he said coldly, "but I will not stand by and let this devil kill any more of my flock."

"Very well Father," said Faith. "But tell me. What should they do if you get killed?"

The priest looked behind him. The majority of the village, nearly fifty people stood behind them. A lot of them looked very afraid of whatever it was out there that had been killing them off and feeding off them like cattle.

Sanchez smiled encouragingly at them.

"My beloved friends," he said. He had taught them all English quite a long time ago. "I must leave you for a while. But do not fear. I go now to fight this devil. I, and this brave woman whom God has sent to help us. Pray for our safe return my children."

There was an outcry from the villagers. Over half the men stepped forward to volunteer to go with them, but Father Sanchez refused their pleas, selecting only a man who was quite big, with broad shoulders and a rather long bamboo spear and a machete, and a boy, barely fourteen, thin, with very untidy black hair and three slash marks across his right cheek.

*****

"The boy is called Sun. That man's his father, Liao," explained Father Sanchez about half an hour after the left. "Sun and his little brother were the last two to see that devil. It killed Sun's little brother and nearly got him aswell."

"I see," replied Faith.

Liao had moved up ahead, he was checking the trail that Sun and his little brother had taken the night they had been attacked. The trail was still fairly fresh, as the attack had only occurred two days ago.

After several hours of moving through the woods they came across a series of caves that opened up in the ground in a clearing.

"The security forces checked these," explained Sanchez. "But they couldn't find anything. It's the only place on the island that that devil could be hiding.

The three stood looking at Faith, waiting for suggestions from her. She stood thinking for a moment before looking around at the clearing from where she stood.

She noticed something.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to an area with mostly bushes and a few ancient trees.

She strode over to it quickly, the others falling in behind. She broke through the first few bushes and came across a half dozen marked graves. Ancient wooden crosses marked them; only one was still standing, bent over, eaten away by the damp and by time.

"Whose graves are these?" asked Faith.

"American soldiers," replied Sanchez. "They died here during the American occupation in about 1907. A guerrilla attack I believe. Filipinos ambushed about twenty of them. They drove them off and buried these six men out here."

Faith looked at the graves suspiciously. There was something.not right about them. Especially that one with the cross still standing, more or less. She bent down and traced her hand over the soil in front of it.

It was loose.

"Tell Liao to go back and get some shovels."

*****

Faith and the others remained in the small graveyard while Liao rushed back to get the shovels. While they waited Father Sanchez blessed Faith's weapons. Her shotgun, a machete and a small knife that she kept on a strap under the left sleeve of her long sleeve, dark green blouse.

"I am amazed that you do not carry more," said the priest after he was finished.

"Believe it or not Father I don't go looking for trouble," replied Faith.

She shot a quick glance over to where Sun was sitting. He looked quite nervous.

"Don't you think you should send him back?" she whispered.

The priest looked over to where the boy sat, staring at the grave they were about to defile.

He sighed uncomfortably before returning his gaze to Faith. "He feels terrible that he could not aid his brother. He told me he wanted to make amends and kill the monster that did this." He shook his head. "I would not have let him come but his father wanted this. He is a strict man, but quite fair."

"If you ask me he sounds quite stupid."

"He is a good man. And Sun is a wonderful boy. I was actually thinking of getting him into the Church." Sanchez smiled at her. "His own faith is quite unshakeable.and he was the first child I baptised out here. I've grown quite fond of him."

It was about twenty minutes before sunset when Liao returned. He, Faith and Father Sanchez began digging immediately while Sun stood near them, his hand lingering near the handle of the machete in his belt as he watched them dig.

They dug without pause until the sun began to dip over the trees and Liao gathered some branches together to start a fire. Faith climbed out of the grave, Father Sanchez helping her up.

"We've dug about three and a half feet," she said as she headed over to where she had laid her rucksack. She pulled out a canteen of water and took a few gulps before offering it to the Sanchez. The priest took it gratefully and took a small sip before handing it to Liao and Sun.

"So," said the Father. "What do you believe is in that grave?"

"I don't know," replied Faith, keeping her eyes on the open grave. "But the earth was disturbed there quite recently." She frowned, deep in thought. "Someone buried something down there not too long ago and I want to know what it is."

They rested for five minutes before Liao made a fire torch for Sun to hold over them while they continued to dig.

Father Sanchez was standing in the grave, throwing dirt out of the hole when it happened.

The ground beneath his feet trembled, before an inhuman growl came from the loose earth.

The others pulled him out quite quickly, swearing and scrambling for weapons.

Faith drew her shotgun and stood at the foot of the grave, cocking both barrels and secretly hoping to herself that this was just some big angry mole.

It wasn't.

The head came through the soil first, the creature sitting up straight and looking at the quartet with Hellish, yellow eyes that reminded Faith of a wild animal.

She brought her shotgun to bear on the thing's head but it was faster, rising to it's feet and leaping out of the defiled grave and above the group just as she fired one of the barrels, doing nothing but sending up a small shower of dirt as the round smashed into the ground.

They spun to face the creature but it landed on its haunches and leapt, performing a backhand swipe, hitting Liao across the face and sending him flying back into his son. Both toppled over into the open grave, Sun screaming in terror as his father's unconscious form pinned him to the ground.

It made a move for Father Sanchez but the priest scooped up the fire torch Sun had dropped and thrust the flame into the creature's chest.

There was the sickening smell of burning flesh in the air as the beast staggered back, hissing wildly at the priest as he pulled a small crucifix from his black robes and held it before the thing, yelling a psalm to himself.

The creature hissed and backed off a little as Faith reloaded the spent barrel in her gun and cocked it again. She switched the gun to her right hand and drew her machete in her left before coming up beside the priest. It was only then that she got a good look at it.

"My God."

It would have stood close to two meters tall if it weren't hunched over. Its arms were almost as long as it's legs; held before it defensively, scythe like talons protruding from long, bony fingers. Its skin was paper white, with pointed ears. Its face almost resembled that of a bat, with a high-arched nose and disturbingly pointed canines clearly seen from its almost elastic mouth that was currently drooling. It was clothed only in a tattered pair of denim shorts that could have been blue once, but were now so caked with dirt and grim that they just seemed brown.

It hissed menacingly.

The pair backed away in horror.

"What the Hell is that?" whispered Faith, keeping her gun aimed at the thing's head.

"I.I do not know," replied Sanchez, dropping the torch and fumbling wildly in his belt for the woodcutter's axe. The thing was now taking slow, nearly animalistic steps towards them as they backed off from it, bobbing its head from side to side like a predator; apparently oblivious to the gun Faith had trained on it.

"It does not appear very afraid of the gun Faith."

"I know Father."

"Why don't you shoot at it?"

"I have a nasty feeling I'd only piss it off Father."

The creature leapt at them before Sanchez had time to suggest she should try anyway.

It hurtled through the air and straight at the Priest.

Faith shot it in the chest with one barrel of the shotgun, catching it halfway to it's target, throwing it backwards to the ground, growling in fury as it rolled back and landed on it's feet. The hole in the centre of its chest was bleeding profusely but it just didn't seem to care.

It roared, causing the pair to jump in terror before it rushed them.

Faith raised her gun again, dipping it slightly before pulling the trigger as hard as she could. The gun buckled in her hand as the second barrel boomed, spitting fire and lead from the nozzle.

The creature's right knee exploded in a grisly shower of blood and bone fragments. It stumbled before falling forward to its knees, howling in agony.

Before Faith even knew what she was doing she was throwing herself at the monstrosity, flipping the empty gun in her hand so that the handle could be used as a club. The creature saw her coming and swiped at her. Faith blocked it with the machete before hitting the creature in the chin with an upward swipe of her own with the shotgun. The creature was raised to it's feet as it's head shot up, flaying it's arms wildly in front of it as it backed away from her.

Faith came at it again, feinting to the left, waiting for it to try and block her attack before bring her right leg up and delivering a hard kick to the groin. The creature's eyes bulged out and it roared in pain. Faith hit it across the cheek with the handle end of the shotgun, drawing blood this time as well as dislodging a few teeth. She smiled sadistically when she heard the crack.

She dislodged its jaw.

The creature opened it's mouth to hiss at her, but only a gurgled groan came out of it's lips as it balled it's fist and hit her with a low right- cross her in the ribs, breaking two with ease.

Faith dropped her shotgun and clutched her damaged chest, gritting her teeth and swinging the machete wildly in her left hand at the creature to keep it at bay while she staggered back.

It felt like her lungs were on fire as she clutched her ribs tightly, fighting tears.

It hurt so much.

The creature took a swing at her, hand open this time, it's long talons cutting light slashes across her flat stomach. She hissed in pain and fell backwards on to her rump as the creature came at her again, leaning over her, it's eyes full of excitement from the kill to come.

Father Sanchez came at it suddenly from the right, swinging the small axe in a horizontal arc with both hands. He caught the creature across the face, splitting both cheeks and halving its tongue.

It staggered back in surprise from its new attacker, the priest swinging wildly and clumsily at it with the small axe, screaming at the top of his voice.

It knocked the axe out of his hand with a backhand swipe before grabbing the holy man by the throat with its right hand, lifting him up as if he weighed nothing.

Sanchez's legs dangled in mid-air as the creature began to squeeze his neck, cutting off his air supply and choking him. It looked him in the eyes as he felt his strength draining away from him.

Faith was on it an instant later, bringing her machete down its out- stretched arm, severing it just above the elbow, and spraying both her and the priest in blood. The creature opened its mouth to scream but Faith swung upwards, cutting a huge gash across its throat, coating her face with even more blood.

She shuddered at how cold it felt on her skin.

The creature staggered back as Father Sanchez pulled its severed hand from his throat, coughing as he searched around for his axe.

Faith came at it again from the right, pressing her advantage for all it was worth, forcing it back with her machete. It staggered back, its ruined knee hindering it and making it impossible to escape from her as it tried to deflect her attacks.

They were near the edge of the clearing when Faith feinted another attack before twirling on the balls of her feet, swinging her blade in an upward arc, slicing the creature's fingers neatly off, leaving just the thumb on its left hand.

She rammed into its chest, driving its back against a tree before driving her machete straight through its heart. She stabbed it so hard the blade came out through the back and lodged into the tree.

The creature threw its head back and screamed.

It lashed out at her with it's left leg, kicking her hard in the stomach and sending her flying back onto the ground, leaving the machete penetrating it's chest, pinning it to the tree.

Father Sanchez came at it. He had found the axe and was holding it in both hands again. He ran right up to it as it tried to pull the machete out of its chest with its one thumbed hand.

Blood was gushing from the slash across its throat and from its mouth.

It heard the scream at it and looked up just as he swung the axe, decapitating it a single, clean swipe.

Its head launched into the air as a fountain of blood erupted from beneath it. Covering both the priest and the nearby foliage in ice-cold blood.

Its headless corpse went limp, still in its standing position, unable to fall due to the machete pinning it to the tree still.

Sanchez turned to look at Faith, smiling at her weakly before falling to his knees, gasping for breath.

Faith struggled to her feet, clutching her ribs tightly, trying to ignore the pain. She heard a moaning behind her and saw Liao and Sun climb out of the grave. Liao was cradling his jaw in one hand.

She walked over to the decapitated beast, grabbing the handle of her machete in both hands and pulled as hard as she could, twisting the blade to try and loosen it. She heard the metal scrape against bone in its chest. There was a disgusting slurping sound as she dislodged the blade from its chest and pulled it out, the creature's body slumping to the ground a moment later.

Father Sanchez walked up slowly beside her and looked down at the body.

"What should we do with this?" he asked.

Faith looked down at the hideous corpse. Her face hardening as she thought of its last victim.

"Burn it," she replied coldly.

*****

The quartet gathered all the pieces of the creature Faith and Father Sanchez had killed and piled it into the centre of the clearing. They threw as much dry wood as they could find in the nearby area, covered the body in it and set it alight.

Father Sanchez yelled prayers of exorcism as the air became polluted the stench of burning flesh.

They took the burnt bones and tossed them in the grave, the priest sanctifying it again with blessings a piece of the Eucharist buried in with the soil. They then took its ashes and scattered them as far as they could.

Only then did they leave for the village.

*****

"We have some bandages and a few first aid kits in the village," said Father Sanchez encouragingly as they headed back.

Faith just clutched her ribs and nodded as they continued on.

They came into the village at about mid-day and noticed something quite odd.

They were men in the village. About half a dozen standing about in the centre of the town as many of the villagers watched one of them talking hastily with one of the women.

"Were did they go? Quickly tell me!" yelled the man quite frantically. "If you don't tell me that thing will kill them!"

He looked to be in his late fifties. His hair was grey with age and he had a thick, bushy moustache that almost covered his mouth. He was quite trim and muscular for his age. He was wearing a heavily armoured black body glove and a black, double-breasted storm coat that was hanging open. He spoke with a thick, Belgium accent. There was a golden handled cavalry sabre hanging from a belt at his waist.

The woman he was interrogating pointed wildly in the direction of the quartet, yelling something incomprehensible. The man looked in their direction and raised his thick grey eyebrows in surprise.

"Good Heavens! We were about to go looking for you," he said, seemingly relieved. He walked up to them quickly and offered his hand to Father Sanchez. The Priest took it wearily and shook it.

"Samuel Renier." He said.

"Alessandro Sanchez. I'm the parish priest of this village."

"It is a pleasure," said Renier, laughing heartily. "These people told us you actually went out to fight that devil."

"We did," replied Faith. She eyed the man with open suspicion as he stared at her bloodied face and hair.

"Good Lord," he said eventually. "You must have barely escaped with your lives!"

"Actually we killed it," said Sanchez suddenly, forcing Renier to turn to look at him and not at Faith.

"You.you killed it?"

"That's right."

"But.but the Bishop sent us to kill that thing," stammered Renier. "How on earth could the four of you handle that thing?"

"Actually," replied Sanchez, putting a hand on Faith's shoulder. "She did."

"WHAT?"

"Faith fought it almost entirely by herself," said the priest. "It was incredible. I never in all my life seen such a ferocious fighter as she."

Renier turned to look at Faith again. His eyes were chocolate brown. Faith thought she could see a hint of.what?

Was that respect or fear in his eyes?

"My dear," said the old man, smiling. "Perhaps the two of us should talk somewhere private."
End Flashback: Demona's van again

"And that's how it happened," said Faith. "Renier was an Inquisitor like I am now. He took me on as his initiate and trained me for about six years before I became a fully independent agent myself."

"Whoa," said Fang as he scratched the back of his head. "So.what exactly was that thing you killed?"

"A vampire," said Faith, pulling a packet of cigarettes out and offering one to the mutate. Fang took one and lit both of theirs' with an electrical spark from his fingers. "It had completely succumbed to its animalistic side and had gone feral."

"Maybe we should smoke these upstairs," suggested Fang, motioning to Malibu, who was still sleeping on the couch. "Or in the front with Jezzy."

"Maybe we should wake him?" suggested Faith. "We'll be at that place Demona owns in southern Germany in about an hour anyway.

"Nah. He's been using that spell Macbeth gave him to turn human before the sun rises on a daily basis for about a month now. He just doesn't get enough sleep anymore," replied Fang. He motioned to the front cabin where Jezebel was driving. "Let's let the kid get some rest." Faith nodded and both rose and silently moved to the front of the heavily armoured truck.

Faith paused to look at the clone. He looked very troubled. "It really got to him."

"I know."

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Give him time.he'll get used to that sort of stuff," replied Fang sadly. "They always do."

They left silently, entering the front cabin, leaving Malibu stirring restlessly on the couch. His dreams filled with visions of the necropolis they had left behind.

*****

Lexington sat uncomfortably in the seat on the top floor of the truck, making a strong effort not to look on the opposite side of the narrow room.

He would see IT then.

He felt a large hand lay on his shoulder and give an encouraging squeeze. He smiled as he looked up at Broadway. The fat aquamarine gargoyle smiled at him reassuringly.

"Relax bro. Demona knows what she's doing."

Lexington just nodded and looked up at the front of the room.

Demona and Goliath were arguing very loudly.

"Then how come he doesn't think so?" asked Lexington.

"Demona! This is insanity!" boomed Goliath; pointing in the direction Lexington was deliberately not looking. "We cannot risk this!"

"Then what do you suggest?" Demona roared back. "We have no idea where he is going. We have no idea where any of the other weapons are! I have tried tracking him every possible way I could and someone or something is blocking my efforts! This is the only way!"

"We cannot become what we fight!" replied the lavender giant. "It's too dangerous!"

Demona picked up the staff Brooklyn had discarded after the massacre at Sudeny. "I agree that it is dangerous. But with this staff I should be able to perform the ceremony correctly."

"It's been centuries since you even saw that damned book! How are you going to do it?"

Demona seemed to bite her lip as Goliath stared at her.

"What?" he asked. "What is it?"

"Understand Goliath. Brooklyn may have made notes when he was translating the Malus Codicium in the study Jezebel said was attached to his bedroom," said Demona nervously. "Jezebel gave me all the security codes. It should be quite safe for her."

"Her?" asked Goliath, his throat suddenly feeling very dry. "You mean Elisa?"

"Yes. I called her about ten minutes after we left that God-awful town. I faxed her all the security codes and everything to make sure she and the mutates can get in without any danger," replied Demona.

"If she is hurt in the slightest way Demona."

"I know. But she won't be. It's perfectly safe," said Demona, her face softening a little. "All they have to do is go to his study and get any notes he may have made and bring them to my estate in Germany. There will be no danger to any of them."

Goliath nodded, resigned, he looked at the large black bag near where Lexington and Broadway were sitting. Bronx lay curled up at their feet.

"I don't think we've ever sunk this low before," he said.

"You get used to it."
A small hotel in Waldenburg, Poland

"May I say this is a bad idea?" said Rincewald.

"Go ahead," said Brooklyn as he sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, wings caped over his leather coat. The "Black Sun" lay across his lap. "Say it as many times as you want."

"Oh relax Jerry," said Riana as she laid herself out on the bed and stretched. "This should be interesting."

"My name is Jeremiah," hissed the necromancer menacingly. Fuzzy popped its head out of a pocket in his grey suit and squeaked. He looked at Brooklyn again. "You aren't strong enough just yet! You've only had the Black Sun for a few hours! How do you expect to be able to wield its power?"

"Because I am the Anointed," replied Brooklyn flatly. "Besides, when he sees the truth then he shall have no real option but to aid me."

"How do you know he's asleep?" asked Rincewald.

"I just know. It's one of those things people who are talented in magic can do," replied the gargoyle.

Rincewald went very red in the face but restrained himself from saying anything. Instead he just stormed out the door, muttering to himself.

"You better go too," said Brooklyn.

Riana nodded and stood up. "I'll calm him down," she said, heading to the door. "The stiff-shagger's our only ride."

Brooklyn suppressed a chuckle before picking the staff up in his hands. It weighed almost nothing.

"And what's your opinion?"

The staff shuddered in his hands as the daemon Thzul'gzhu'vsra'kotllz awoke.

~Master?~

"Do you think I'm being foolish trying this?" asked Brooklyn.

~No Master,~ replied the daemon. Brooklyn was amazed at how passive it had become since he had learned its true name. ~He would be a useful ally if you can convince him to help us.~

"I'm positive I can," replied the blood red gargoyle excitedly. "I'll show him the truth! Make him see what I've seen! Then he'll understand."

~Let us begin then.~

Brooklyn nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating the daemonic powers that flowed from the staff and the Malus Codicium that lay in the breast pocket of his coat. A pale blue aura began to surround his form as the "Lack of Conscience" around his neck began to glow as well, adding an amber touch to the light.

Brooklyn felt his senses expand to a prodigious level. His mind reached out, searching for the one he was looking for. It didn't take him long to find his friend. The one who had tried so hard to make him feel better.

"Malibu," he whispered to the air. "When I show you the truth you will understand."

Demona's Van

Malibu began to breathe a lot harder as he lay asleep on the couch, Faith's coat providing him no warmth. He began to stir uneasily as he felt something dark coming close to him. A presence of sorts.

It came closer and closer until he could feel that it was barely inches from him. He felt terribly cold, so much so that he began shivering. There was a strange scent in the air, like some sort of exotic spice that he couldn't name, strong, and sharp as a blade.

His skin crawled from the touch of this presence. It felt familiar somehow.

The presence moved in closer till it felt like it was standing beside were his head lay on the pillow. Malibu began to hyperventilate as the presence lunged for him, he tried to scream but it cut him off, holding him down as he felt it reach out for his forehead. He struggled madly but it wouldn't let go, it was if he had been strapped to the couch.

His breathing and heart rate accelerated he felt it get closer. He struggled harder, but it simply held him tighter.

It touched his forehead. The bonds apparently holding him down vanished and he screamed as he felt the presence enter him.

Everything went black.

*****

He felt his strength slowly return to him as his eyes fluttered open and he sat up, rubbing his eyes with his left hand. He felt a little disorientated as he looked around for Fang or Jezebel.

His jaw dropped in shock as he took in his surroundings.

"What the Hell is going on?"

He was in a graveyard! A very big graveyard at that.

He rose to his feet quickly and almost lost his balance and fell. He grabbed on to the top of one of the tombstones and leaned on it for support as he waited for his head to stop spinning.

"Feeling a little dizzy?" asked a voice from behind him.

Malibu spun around to face whoever was speaking, his eyes widening in shock as he did so.

"Brooklyn?"

"Well done," said Brooklyn, grinning. He was standing a few meters away from his clone, wings at the ready as a light wind flapped the edges of his long black leather coat. He took several steps towards Mal. "Good to see you haven't forgotten about-"

Brooklyn was cut off suddenly as Mal leapt at him; giving him a hard right cross to his face. The red gargoyle staggered and fell backwards as Mal leapt on top of him, taking hold of his wrists and pinning him to the ground.

"HOW COULD YOU?" screamed the clone. "HOW COULD YOU? ALL THOSE PEOPLE!"

Brooklyn put his feet against the clone's chest and kicked him off. Mal landed hard, on his back a few feet away from where Brooklyn lay. He was on his feet an instant later but so was Brooklyn.

Mal's body tensed, ready for any attack but none was forth coming. Brooklyn just stood there staring balefully at him.

"I didn't have anything to do with that," he said coldly. "I was busy elsewhere."

"Yeah right."

"I'm serious!" yelled Brooklyn. "Besides.I am not here to talk about a town full of vermin."

"VERMIN?" Screamed the clone in utter disbelief. "They were human beings!"

"Human? Vermin? What's the difference?" said Brooklyn in total disgust. "They have no right to be here Mal." He grinned evilly. "And I can prove it to you. If you're willing to listen."

Malibu crossed his arms and eyed Brooklyn suspiciously. "Why should I believe anything you tell me? That book's screwing your head up."

"Ah.but it isn't the book that tells me this."

"Uh-ha.and what does eh?"

Brooklyn smiled as he reached into the open collar of his black shirt and pulled out a large oval shaped gemstone hanging from a silver chain.

"This does."

The clone's eyes widened as he looked at it. He suddenly felt the desperate need to touch it but he shook it off. "That's.that's one of those things that Satan had right?"

"Lucifer," said Brooklyn, stuffing the gem back in his shirt while sounding quite irritated. "Try and show some respect."

Malibu frowned. "And that thing tells you stuff as well?"

"It doesn't just tell me things Mal. It shows me."

"O-kay. Like what?"

"The truth of course!" yelled Brooklyn, as if the idea that it could tell him anything else was just stupid. "It's incredible! The truth about our race and the humans!" His smile became more pleasant. "And I want to show you it. I want you to understand why I'm doing this."

"What? Why you're murdering people by the hundred!" screamed Malibu. "Nothing is worth killing Brooklyn! It doesn't do anybody any good!"

"Really? If you believe that then why'd you help me and Macbeth kill Demona?"

The clone's head drooped, he sighed. "I did it for revenge."

"Ha! See?" laughed Brooklyn. "Don't you dare start judging me when you played an active part!"

"But you had your revenge," pleaded Malibu. "And look where it got you! Banished! And now your letting some damn book and a cheap piece of jewellery run your life!"

"Your wrong! They show me the truth!"

"What truth could possibly be worth all those lives?"

Brooklyn stared at him, his hazel eyes narrowing as the clone met his gaze head on, and flinched.

For the briefest of moments, he didn't know who he was looking at.

Brooklyn sighed suddenly and stepped forward, offering his friend his hand. "Let me show you. Then you can judge me."

Mal looked at the hand suspiciously, and then back into the blood red gargoyle's eyes.

That.whatever it was wasn't there anymore.

He hesitated, before he offered his own hand. "Okay.show me."

Brooklyn smiled and took it.

Malibu suddenly got the feeling that the world around him was moving faster than he could comprehend. The graveyard vanished as the world became a myriad of rapidly moving images and colours.

Mal stared wide eyed at the ever changing images, moving so fast that all he saw was a blur, making him feel slightly dizzy as they passed by.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked as he turned his gaze back to Brooklyn.

The red gargoyle smiled confidently. "I am taking you to see the truth.as promised." His smiled deepened. "I suggest you approach this with a very open mind."

"I thought you knew me? I always have an open mind."

"That's what everybody likes to think," said Brooklyn bitterly. "Until someone different comes along who wants to learn from them, and is willing to do anything they ask of them to learn something."

He stopped when he noticed the look Malibu was giving him.

"Brooklyn.what are you talking about?"

"Nothing.way before your time."

He smiled as the myriad slowed and eventually stopped. "We're here."

Malibu looked at their surroundings. "It's a field."

Brooklyn grinned. "A very big field."

Mal looked around further. Grass and hills as far as the eye could see while a few white, fluffy clouds drifted lazily along in a cobalt blue sky as the sun beamed in an almost happy manner.

He turned his attention back to Brooklyn. "Um.is there a metaphor or something else here that might be just a little above my head?" he asked. "It's just.while picturesque.I just can't see any reasons anywhere that could justify killing anyone."

"Patience," said Brooklyn, putting his left wrist up to his face and checking a gold watch with a black leather strap.

Mal looked down at the ground and sighed sullenly.

He'd given him that watch after he'd started being late for dinner when he was translating the Codicium. That seemed like a lifetime ago now.

"It should start in about.ten seconds," stated Brooklyn.

"What?"

Brooklyn smiled knowingly at him. "You'll see."

Mal gave him a look when he suddenly noticed something on the light breeze. It sounded like thunder at a good distance away. He focused his keen ears on the sound.

It was getting closer.

"What is that?" he asked after several moments. "It sounds a little like thunder but there's no breaks."

"It's called rolling thunder," replied Brooklyn as walked up beside the clone. "It a nickname for the sound of large bodies of horses when moving at great speed." Malibu turned his head to look at Brooklyn who smiled at him. "Before all this I kinda heard it once. It was about 989 A.D." He shrugged. "It was only about fifty or sixty horses but I always thought it sounded really cool. I could hear them heading towards Wyvern a good distance away."

Mal nodded and looked out to where he believed the sound was coming from. "And how many is out there?"

Brooklyn seemed to bite his lip as he considered this. "I.I don't know. Hell.only God probably knows how many."

"God?"

"Yep," replied Brooklyn, stretching his hands out in a dramatic gesture. "These, my good friend.are the plains."

"The what?"

"Something very important happened here ages and ages ago."

"Let me guess. A battle."

Brooklyn stared at him. "How'd you know?"

"Hate propaganda usually has some sort of killing or betrayal in it," replied the clone coldly. "Look at the Quarrymen."

"We are nothing like the Quarrymen," said Brooklyn very slowly, a faint glow in his eyes. "We have perfectly good reasons to hate humanity."

"Do we?" asked Mal as he folded his arms in front of him. "What reasons are those then Brooklyn?"

"It's still a minute or two till the fighting starts so I guess I might as well tell you," said the crimson gargoyle. "Before God created humanity. He created the hosts of angels, got that?"

"Yes. Go on."

"Now. That wasn't the only thing He created when He started building everything," said Brooklyn, smiling slightly. "He also created a heap of other races at the same time as humanity."

"I understand. So what?"

Brooklyn's eyes narrowed at him for a brief moment before continuing. "The Lord decided all the races except for a few would be scattered out across the universe. The remainder would be placed on earth.where man was to be the dominant race. Even the Angels would have to serve them."

"You're talking about Satan aren't you?"

Brooklyn smiled. "Exactly."

A moment of silence passed as Malibu stared at the ground and Brooklyn stared at him, waiting for a reaction. When none seemed forthcoming he continued.

"Some of the Angels, about a third, rallied around Lucifer and revolted against having to serve man."

"What has this got to do with us?" asked Mal, although admittedly, he wasn't very sure he wanted an answer.

"He only had a third of the Angels on his side Mal," stated the crimson gargoyle. "He needed allies if he was to have any hope of victory."

"Oh my God we didn't."

"Oh but we did," said Brooklyn, grinning horribly at the look on the clone's face. To put it mildly he looked awful. "Humanity has its original sin and so do we."

He frowned before continuing. "We weren't the only ones of course. Quite a few races weren't particularly pleased at having to serve humanity. But our race and the Daemons were the two that were completely behind him. There were simply bits and pieces of the others. Why else would humans have so deep a fear of us?"

"Why would we go against God?"

"I thought I just explained," said Brooklyn. "Humanity is weak while we stood above them on every level. How the Hell would you feel to know you're being replaced by an inferior model?"

"But still."

"STILL WHAT?" roared Brooklyn, his patience suddenly gone. "THEY ARE INFERIOR!" He began to throw his arms around wildly as he continued his ranting. "HE HELD THEM ABOVE US! HE SAW THEM AS HIS GREATEST ENDEAVOR WHILE WE WERE SIDELINED!"

"There's no need to scream ya know?" said Mal. "So what if He did eh? It's in the past! Who knows how long ago? I can't believe you're killing people over a million year old grudge!"

"I HAVEN'T KILLED ANYONE!"

"NO, BUT BECAUSE OF YOU ALL THOSE PEOPLE ARE DEAD!"

"WHO CARES? THEY'RE HUMANS!"

Both gargoyles stood shaking with rage while they glared at each other.

"What about Jezebel?" asked Mal suddenly.

Brooklyn's eyes widened. "Jezebel?"

"Yeah, Jezebel. You know? The one who took care of both of us when we were injured?"

"Uh."

"And what about Fang huh? He was human. And now that he's got that spell he can change back whenever he wants so I guess he still is human."

"Well.he.uh."

"And Elisa? And Matt? What about them Brooklyn?"

"They.they abandoned me!"

"They do care though."

"Bullshit!" yelled Brooklyn as he took several steps back. The certainty in his voice had vanished now and he looked very confused. "I.I.they don't care! They never did!"

Malibu shook his head in pity. "You're clutching at straws now Brook."

"No I'm not! What about Castaway huh? And the Hunters? And Dracon?"

"Castaway is the Hunter! You told me so yourself!"

"He wasn't the only one though!"

"So? He's losing support! More and more people are seeing him and his Quarrymen for what they truly are. It's the same with us, it's just we're gaining support!"

"I.they're vermin!" yelled Brooklyn desperately. This definitely not going the way he had planned. "We have to destroy them! We can't trust them!"

"Brooklyn. Give it up. You sound like a broken record," said Malibu. "It doesn't matter what you show me. You know I'm right."

The clone couldn't help but notice that the sounds of distant cavalry had stopped, and that the entire world seemed to be growing darker.

"But.He.He."

"He what Brooklyn? What the Hell happened that's worth so many damn lives?"

Brooklyn stood before Malibu. Looking desperately around as if someone or something would come and give him assistance. "He.He banished the Daemons and the Fallen to Hell and forced us to become humanity's protectors. He drilled that damned feeling that we need to protect stuff into our heads after we had to surrender." He looked desperately confused now.

Malibu gave him a look of total pity before he took several steps towards his friend. The crimson gargoyle gave him a startled look when the clone gently placed his hands on his shoulders.

"Brooklyn," said Mal gently. "Come home. Please?"

Brooklyn opened his mouth to try and say something but nothing came out. His lip seemed to be quivering while his hazel eyes betrayed just how lost he seemed to be feeling.

"But.the Conscience.the Codicium.they told me." he trailed off.

Malibu squeezed his shoulders a little harder, "They're destroying you Brooklyn. You've gotta get rid of them."

Malibu noticed the faint amber glow from under Brooklyn's black shirt, about where the "Conscience" was, before Brooklyn's hazel eyes erupted into a pair of pale blue balls of hate.

Mal's eyes widened in shock. "What in God's name?"

Brooklyn suddenly threw his left arm around the clone's waist, pulling him forward while thrusting his right hand, open palmed, forwards as well. His talons stabbed deep into the base of Malibu's belly. The clone screamed in agony and tried to push Brooklyn off. Brooklyn simply smiled, dragging his claws slowly upwards, slicing three very deep vertical gashes into the struggling clone's gut.

Mal tried to scream again, but half choked when a small river of his own blood rushed up his throat.

Brooklyn pulled his bloody claw out of his friend's heavily damaged and bleeding belly while at the same time letting him go with his other arm. As Mal staggered back Brooklyn swiped his clawed left hand across the clone's face, cutting three huge slices into his right cheek, taking part of his pale green skin off and slicing his lower gum, dislodging several teeth in the process.

Mal actually spun in the air for a brief moment from the force behind the attack before collapsing on his knees, his back now turned to the crimson gargoyle.

Brooklyn lifted his stained hands to his face and looked the blood dripping from his talons, a sadistic grin forming across his lips.

"No."

*****

Back in the van on the couch Mal's body went stiff as three deep cuts formed along his right cheek and began bleeding profusely. Exactly like the three larger ones that had bored into his belly underneath his armoured body glove.

The smell of exotic spices intensified as the clone moaned in agony.

*****

Brooklyn walked calmly up to the side of his clone as he stayed on his knees, his arms wrapped protectively around his bleeding waist while he coughed up blood.

He grinned evilly before he kicked Malibu in the face, breaking his nose and shooting the clone's head back. Mal feel on to his back, one arm staying wrapped around his waist while the other tried to cover damaged face from any further attack.

"I think I'm starting to understand why you got bullied down in the Labyrinth," said Brooklyn in a very matter-of-fact tone. Mal groaned as Brooklyn began to slowly circle him. "I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that you're weak."

"I'm not the one who's weak," whispered Mal, his voice laced with agony. Brooklyn stopped circling as the clone continued. "I.I'm not the one that's letting a fucking piece of jewellery tell me what to do."

Brooklyn smiled. "Now who sounds like a broken record?" His smile vanished as his face suddenly hardened. "You really should kept your trap shut Mal. Now I'm just gonna have to hurt you a lot."

He started kicking Malibu as he lay on the ground savagely, the clone yelping and covering his face with his arms as Brooklyn laid in to him.

He stopped suddenly and grinned. "You know what Mal? Not only are you a weakling. You're also a fucking little kid."

"Shut up," groaned the clone as he tried to rise. Brooklyn leapt on him suddenly, grabbing his wrists and holding them down above his head while sitting on his chest, shifting so as to put as much weight on it as possible. Mal started coughing as Brooklyn pressed down on his lungs, his weight making it increasingly harder to breathe.

Brooklyn smiled cruelly. "Yeah.a little fucking kid. A hatchling. A little baby."

"Since when did you go in for bullying?" coughed Mal.

"Since it became obvious just a few seconds ago that you wouldn't stand up to me," replied Brooklyn snidely. "You're a pitiful excuse for a Gargoyle. It's sickening to think you came from my blood."

"You're nothing but a bully."

"Oh shut your trap. I'm ranting," said Brooklyn in disgust. He leaned in closer till his face was inches from Malibu's. "So tell me. Why didn't you fight back when the others started beating up on you?"

"It's none of your business!" yelled Malibu as he started struggling to force Brooklyn off him.

"But it is," said Brooklyn. "We're family. Remember? It's important that I know just how badly you show me up." Mal tried to force him off, but Brooklyn held him down in a rock hard grip.

"That won't work kid," said Brooklyn, grinning cruelly. "In the physical world you're a lot stronger than me. But not here." His eyes narrowed menacingly. "This is my little world you little fucking brat. Here I'm God."

Malibu felt a sudden shift in the ground and air and looked around from where Brooklyn had him pinned.

They were back in the graveyard again.

He turned his head up to Brooklyn's. The crimson gargoyle was still smiling at him.

"Why are we back here?" asked the clone.

"Since you seemed to care so much about all those dead people," said Brooklyn. "I was thinking that it might be an interesting experience for you to see them all again."

Before Malibu could ask what Brooklyn meant by that he felt the ground underneath him move. He slowly turned his head just as a decaying hand burst through the ground near his arm and grabbed hold of his wrist. It was a sickening yellow colour and it felt disgustingly cold against his skin.

He screamed as another hand burst from the ground on the other side of his arm and grabbed hold of his wrist as Brooklyn let go. He felt more hands rise up from the ground near his legs and shuddered when he felt cold, decaying hands grab hold of his ankles and tail. He tried desperately to kick them away but they tightened their grip on his legs, dragging them back to ground level and holding on to him so tight it hurt. When Brooklyn was sure he couldn't move any limb, he sat up on the clone's stomach and smiled triumphantly.

"You pathetic little shit," he said. He frowned when it became obvious that Malibu wasn't listening anymore.

He was moving each limb in turn, trying to find a weakness he could exploit.

He yelped in pain when Brooklyn slapped him very hard across the face. "Are you listening to me?"

"Fuck off!" yelled Mal suddenly. "I don't know just who the fuck you think you are but you are definitely not Brooklyn!"

"You're a little off there my friend," said Brooklyn. "I am Brooklyn. All that's changed is that I'm a lot stronger and smarter now." He pulled the "Conscience" out from under his shirt and let it dangle over the clone's head. "And with this and the Codicium with me. I no longer get pestered by that stupid little voice the weak such as your self listen to called a conscience."

"I don't care what the fuck you say!" yelled Malibu. "You're not Brooklyn! You're just some fucking psycho!"

"You've got quite a mouth on you," said Brooklyn, the pale blue glow in his eyes intensifying. "Does swearing make you feel you're not quite as pathetic and weak as you really are?"

"Fuck you!"

Brooklyn suddenly shot his hands behind his back, delving into his leather greatcoat. A second later he produced a pair of matching duelling daggers. Malibu started struggling all the harder as Brooklyn laid one on the ground and, holding the other dagger in both hands, point down, began to press it against the clone's right shoulder.

"Now," said Brooklyn, pressing the blade a little harder. "We're going to play a little round of Q&A. You're gonna tell me what I want to know. Or I'm just gonna have to torture you to death."

Mal winced in pain as the blade slowly penetrated his thinly armoured shoulder and broke the skin. He gritted his teeth as the blade began to bore into his flesh and muscles before stopping against the bone. A moan escaped from his gritted teeth as Brooklyn began twisting the blade.

"Understand?"

"Why don't you just ask that fucking daemon you summoned for answers?" asked Mal, his voice laced with pain.

"I take it you mean Iioe." Said Brooklyn. "He betrayed me. So I sent him back to Hell for Lucifer to deal with." He grinned. "Besides. Torturing info outta you should be a lot more fun."

"I won't tell you anything."

"Ha! We'll see."
Dresden, Germany

The city square of one of Germany's oldest cities was unusually noisy, despite the fact it was nearly one in the morning.

The reason for this was that a soccer match had ended between Germany and England in the nearby stadium. It was supposed to have been a friendly match but the England fans were determined to live up to their reputation as some of the most destructive, drunken and violent football hooligans on the planet.

The city square had become the grounds for a three-way battle between the hordes of invading and drunk England fans, the equally drunk and more numerous German fans and the very irritated Dresden police force, which had driven a wedge between the opposing masses and was being fairly even-handed with the water cannons while heavily armoured police in riot gear, both from Dresden and the surrounding towns tried to force both sides to separate by charging into them with their batons and riots shields while at the same time being pelted by stolen furniture, petrol bombs, obscenities, and basically anything else the rioters could get their hands on.

A particularly drunk and shirtless man climbed upon a monument in the square that celebrated the reunification of East and West Germany after the collapse of the old Soviet Union amid all the chaos. He climbed half way before he started dancing wildly, shaking his hips two and fro while singing a particularly bad rendition of "Rule Britannia".

The red cross of St. George on the white painted background of his enormous beer belly proved just too tempting a target for the police.

Two water cannons on different riot control vehicles targeted him at almost the exact same time and opened up on him, secretly aiming for the centre of the cross.

The twin beams of heavily pressurised water hit him quite hard, one on the chest, the other missing the centre of the red cross by barely an inch, instead nearly hitting his navel, lifting the very drunk rioter clean off the monument, landing on a crowd of nearby England fans, sending many of them sprawling and actually knocking several unconscious, much to the joy of a group of nearby German fans. The police, with media cameras from several European networks, as well as two from the USA, and not wanting to be called discriminate, fired the water cannons at them next, sending several actually through the front window of a chemist.

Amid all the drunken chaos, Furcifer smiled.

He loved football.

Well.it wasn't actually the sport he loved. Even something as eternal as him didn't really see the point of kicking a ball up and down a field for an hour and a half and actually getting paid criminal amounts of money while they were at it.

It was the fans he really liked.

Especially the ones that went to church on Sundays, said prayers, sang hymns.

.and then threw themselves on their knees in praise of the almighty David Beckham and his pop star wife the second they got home.

"Humans," he whispered to himself, smiling wistfully as he strode among the crazed tumult. His hands in the pockets of his black leather pants, his long black cotton greatcoat flapping behind him as if it were a cape despite the strange the fact that there was no wind.

His face had healed already from Edmund Burke's splash of holy water, as had his hand, but he had been told to take it easy and relax for a few days before he got back to watching the Anointed's progress.

Which was why he was here. He loved riots. Reminded him of his place back in Pandemonium, the palace of the Dark Prince.

He stopped and frowned.

Leviathan better not be touching his stuff again. The last time he'd done that there'd been that weird ooze of his all over his Mozart CDs.

But no. He couldn't think of irritating stuff like that here. He was here to relax.

"Happy thoughts Furcy old boy. Remember?" He said to himself as he passed a drunken German football fan lying in a pool of his own vomit. He stopped and picked up the man's baseball bat, which was remarkably unscathed. He took a few experimental swings as an England fan was sent crashing into a set of tables by a water cannon outside a coffee house whom's owner's sanity for remaining open on the night of a football match had to be put under serious scrutiny.

He didn't carry weapons. For no other reason than he never needed them.

But there was something about the atmosphere in places like this that just seemed to demand that he have some form of blunt instrument in his hands. A baseball bat was good.although if given a choice he'd be using a flamethrower.

But there were rules.

He could kill people of course. There was always the danger though that if he killed too many at once, and then the boys upstairs may get involved.

Now that he thought back on it. He was lucky he hadn't gotten into any trouble over Sudeny. He knew he couldn't afford to take many more risks like that.

But hopefully there wouldn't be any need to do anything like that again.

The Inquisitors were dead. There wouldn't be any more of them. They'd be too damn busy trying to cover the mess they'd made and trying to blame it on somebody else.

He was already hearing news reports suggesting it was some sort of mass cult activity, or perhaps some sort of terrorist attack that wiped out the town's population.

"You'd think they'd try something a little more original for once," said Furcifer to no body in particular.

He smacked a policeman on his helmet, knocking him out before dragging another drunken fan, who was also unconscious but looked pretty much like he was going to vomit as well, on top of the officer, laughing hysterically when said fan did vomit in his sleep, all over the officer's head.

He vanished back into the crowd, basking in the way humanity disgraced itself in such spectacular ways and on such regularity.

As he was he was kicking an England fan in the crotch, taking care not to kill him, as he may be one of the ones who started the riot. He felt a presence.

He dropped the bat and started turning around in a circle, the rather enjoyable sounds of men fighting, drinking, vomiting and swearing all lost to him as he scanned the chaotic crowds for whoever was watching him.

He smiled when he recognised it at last.

He walked into a back alley as extra police from more towns arrived as reinforcements to try and quell the fighting.

When he was sure he was quite alone he waited near a steel door that led to a strip club.

After a few minutes one of the shadows in the alley darkened to an unnatural degree near Furcifer.

"Well?" he said.

The shadow told him.

Furcifer frowned deeply before replying. "Who?"

It told him.

"That little bitch. Where?"

There was no sound in the alley, other than the very loud music coming from the other side of the steel door and the sound of Furcifer's own voice.

"I see.that could be a problem no doubt," he said. "Hmm.send Crow. Tell him to stop her by any means necessary."

The shadow lingered.

"What?"

Another moment.

"Yes.there is a risk they may become involved but I'm starting to doubt that they will.I'm still a little amazed they didn't in Sudeny." Furcifer thought for a moment. "Tell Crow to be quiet about it if it's reasonable practical for him. Understand?"

The shadow still didn't move.

"What is it?" asked Furcifer, getting slightly impatient.

It told him quickly then vanished.

Furcifer lent against a wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he absorbed the last bit of information.

"Bastard."

Leviathan was messing with his CDs again.

He swore a few more times before he pulled open the steel door and went into the club to calm himself and sample some of the delicate beauties inside.
The Macbeth Estate, USA

Elisa Maza, detective 2nd class, manoeuvred her cherry red Ford Fairlane up the gravel driveway to the intimidating castle at the end of the road.

She had entered the estate, but still wasn't too sure what exactly she was looking for.

Which was why Mr. Burnett was sitting next to her.

Xanatos' major-domo sat rigidly in his seat, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was wearing a double-breasted black business suit with a white shirt underneath and a red tie.

He hadn't said anything since she'd picked him up other than "Detective," in his usual monotone.

She pulled up in front of the heavily reinforced oak doors with the brass lion head knockers.

Both got out silently and walked up to the pair of doors.

Elisa bent down and pulled away the welcome mat, revealing a key underneath. She picked it up in one hand while taking out the sheets of paper that Demona had faxed her.

"Okay.this is the key to the back door," she said, squinting at the paper. "Demona really needs to improve her handwriting."

Owen said nothing. His silence was really starting to irritate her.

They waited for several moments as the sun slowly began to set, Elisa actually stopping to watch it dip under Manhattan's jagged skyline while hoping Goliath was okay before sighing sadly to herself.

It had only been a few weeks since their parting yet she missed him terribly. He was helping to fight forces neither of them could really understand and it felt good to help him, even in a small way.

But still.

"Detective," said Owen, pointing to the sky southwards. "Your brother is here."

Elisa looked where he was pointing and saw three shapes in the air getting closer as she watched them. Eventually she could make out Talon, Maggie and Claw when they were close enough.

They waited by the front doors until the trio of mutates landed and Talon came up and hugged his big sister.

"Hey Lis," he said as they parted. "Got the key?"

Elisa nodded and showed the mutates the key she had taken from under the welcome mat before Owen led them round to the back of the castle to the rear entrance.

All the while Crow watched, and waited.

The traps the Anointed had left that the witch didn't know about may well do his work for him.

*****

The five moved through the old house quickly, the mutates and Elisa pausing occasionally to admire some of more spectacular works of art that lined the walls or some of the antique furniture while Owen led the way to Brooklyn's study on a map of the interior that was also faxed to them by Demona and Jezebel.

While they ascended the stairs Elisa paused to look at the stained glass window that portrayed Macbeth and Demona facing each other off, briefly wondering if Macbeth had any idea that this sort of thing would have happened before following the others up to the second storey.

They came upon the door to Brooklyn's room and Elisa couldn't help but shudder.

How had this happened? Had he been slipping right in front of them and had none of them noticed? Why didn't he come forward and talk about it? What was he hoping to accomplish?

-Revenge- said a little voice at the back of her head. -He's doing all this for revenge. It's all he seems to live for now.-

She shook this line of thought off quickly.

The Brooklyn she had once been friends with was gone, replaced by a madman bent on destroying everything and he had to be stopped one way or another.

She was the last to walk into the room and therefore the last to notice just how drastically the temperature had dropped. She was so shocked she stopped in her tracks as she watched her breath condense in the air.

There was an odd smell, like some sort of exotic spice that she couldn't name that seemed to cut through the cold and dominate the atmosphere.

She looked around his room. The walls had a deep shade of red wallpaper on them. There were several drawers, one with a mirror on top that looked newer than the piece of furniture it sat on. A four-poster bed sat at the opposite wall with a large window beside it that gave a view of the Manhattan skyline as the city lights were turned on as darkness claimed the sky for itself. Talon switched the light on, noticing claw marks along some of the walls as he did so. There were three doors inside the room. Two to their left and another to their right.

The two on their left, according to Owen from the map, led to a bathroom and the other to a walk in closet.

The one on the right, led to the study. It had a chest of drawers beside it. Elisa and the mutates headed towards it, Claw moved his arm to take hold of the door handle when Owen suddenly yelled something and grabbed the tiger mutate pulled him roughly back and almost causing him to stumble and fall.

"Don't touch that handle!" yelled Xanatos' major-domo as he manhandled Claw back.

"What the Hell's the matter with you?" yelled Talon suddenly, grabbing Owen by the scruff of the neck and holding him in the air as if he weighed nothing.

"The door's booby trapped," replied Owen, totally unphased by Talon's outrage. The mutate put him down and Owen walked over to the chest and picked up a pair of scissors lying on top. He then moved to the door handle and carefully examined the space between it and the chest, before making a single, careful snip while the others watched on. He held up the end of the wire attached to the door handle for them to see before he opened the top drawer to see what opening the door would have triggered.

Even he raised his eyebrows at the two-pound slab of C4 explosives inside with a cherry picker grenade taped firmly to the inside of the drawer, the wire wrapped around the pin.

"Holy shit," muttered Talon.

"There may be more," said Owen. "I suggest you wait outside the room while I check it for more bombs."

The others nodded and headed out, spending almost half an hour in awkward silence as Owen meticulously went through the room, searching for any more traps.

After what seemed like an eternity, Owen came out and gave the all clear.

"So did you find anymore?" asked Elisa.

"Several," said Owen. "Including two on the other side of the door to his study made in a similar fashion to the first one. Except one had six-pounds of C4 and the other had a drawer full of iron nails with its grenade." He frowned. "Brooklyn's paranoia seems to have increased far more than Fang or Malibu could have predicted."

He led them into the study. It was a fairly big room with a large working desk in front of a window that had several books lying upon it along with a large pile of notes. The two walls that didn't have a door or window were completely lined with row upon row of books, the majority of which looked to be old tomes but there were several rows of newer ones as well while the walls had a dark shade of green wallpaper on them.

The air was thick with the smell of the spices.

"What the Hell is that smell?" asked Talon as his sensitive nostrils became overwhelmed by the sharp, exotic tang. He actually covered his nose.

"A backwash," explained Owen. "Some of the more powerful disciplines of magic can leave tell tale signs of their use. Pyromancy, for example, leaves a smell of o-zone in the air after a particularly powerful spell was cast."

"And what kind is causing such a strong smell as this?" asked Maggie.

"Daemonology." Said Owen immediately. "It is incredibly dangerous to use as it almost always involves contact with daemons of one form or another, through intention or accident. But it is also the most powerful discipline. The most powerful and skilled daemonologists can even take on Fey and expect success." He sniffed the air again. "I've never smelt it this strong before. It's so concentrated."

He trailed off, glaring around the room before walking to the desk and ruffling through the papers lying there. "I'll go through the papers. You all look through those books on the walls. You'll know if you find something."

"Wait," said Elisa. "If it's really so strong then why hasn't Oberon or anyone else noticed it?"

"Detective Maza," said Owen patiently. "Daemonology is a very unique discipline. Unless you are a practitioner or are very close and know what you are looking for then it's doubtful you'll detect it." That said he turned his back on her to concentrate on the papers on the desk.

The mutates shrugged to each other and began to go through the books systematically. After a moment Elisa joined them.

They worked for about twenty minutes before Owen declared he found them.

The notes were a rough collection of papers under several piles themselves. Some were on blank sheets while others were on A-4 pages. Many of them were crumpled while the writing on them was quite bad, the author's obvious haste in making them coming through.

Elisa took some of the pages from Owen and examined them, dates were written on the top.

"This was written weeks ago," said Elisa.

"Those are the most recent papers and notes here," explained Owen, stuffing the rest into a file and holding them under his shoulder.

"Demona told me that Codicium thing.talked to her when we were on the phone," said Elisa slowly. "She said that after several weeks of translating it when she had it.it actually started talking to her. It almost drove her mad when Macbeth found her and took it away from her."

"Looks like it succeeded with Brooklyn," said Talon, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"That's what most likely happened," said Owen, his voice remaining on its flat monotone. "When it started talking to him he simply stopped taking the notes. Let's just hope some of these are useful to Demona." He looked around at them all. "There is nothing else here. Let's go."

They all agreed and followed him out.

Owen led them to the front doors, picking up a key that lay on a nearby table. The others walked out while he locked up.

Elisa was several yards from the door when she saw something sitting on top of her car.

She raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

It was a large bird, a very rare breed of crow, an albino. Its body was the colour of snow, while its eyes were a pair of blood red, pitiless orbs that seemed to bore into her.

Talon was the first to notice the smell of spices.

"Elisa? What's that bird doing on your car?" he asked as he started looking from side to side suspiciously.

"I don't know," replied the detective, taking several steps towards the bird, which was now staring at her innocently. "But something definitely doesn't seem right about it."

While she was saying this, Owen locked the front door and slipped the key back under it. He looked round and stared at the bird for only brief second before he reacted.

Keeping the file of notes tightly under his arm, Owen rushed forward, pulling out a Berretta 9mm as he did so from under his coat, taking careful aim as he rushed past Maggie who simply gawked at him dumbly as he fired the first round.

The bullet flew past Elisa's head, grazing her right ear as it tore its way towards the white crow. The bird leaned slightly to the left before taking off as the bullet struck and penetrated the to roof of Elisa's Ford.

The next three rounds missed while Elisa grabbed the top of her ear, her teeth gritting and swearing silently to herself at the sharp sting from the first bullet.

"It's a daemon!" yelled Owen. " All of you! Get in the car now!"

The group complied as Owen emptied the clip at the bird, which dodged all the shots with unnatural grace.

As he was taking backwards steps towards the car, slamming a new clip into the pistol as he did so, the white crow flew behind the castle. A brief moment later there was a strange sound in the air that caused the major- domo to pause as he was getting in the passenger seat. It sounded like the flapping of wings.

Many, many wings.

Owen stopped dead in his tracks, as the sound grew increasingly louder before they came from around the castle.

"Oh my God."

There must have been at least a thousand of them. All huge, fast and as black as Stalin's soul.

Owen wasn't even properly seated when Elisa swore at the top of her voice and drove her foot into the accelerator so hard Talon was afraid she might actually put it through the floor.

The engine of the car roared to life as the tires threw clouds of dirt and gravel into the air before getting a firmer grip on the road and hurtling it down the road and straight through the open gates.

Elisa turned the car wildly left and right, desperately trying to dodge evening traffic as Owen slipped a silencer onto his Berretta before opening his window and sticking his arm out to fire at the pursuing horde of crows. Claw and Talon followed suit a moment later as they shifted awkwardly in the back seat, crushing Maggie in between them as they stuck their own arms out to send electrical blasts at their pursuers.

The daemonic birds hit by Owen's pistol cawed before dropping while the ones hit by either Talon or Claw's electrical blasts exploded in a shower of feathers and charred flesh.

But they were always replaced.

"We'll never get them all!" yelled Talon as he detonated yet another crow mid-air.

"We're also attracting a lot of attention to ourselves," yelled Owen, pulling himself back into his seat and pulling out the wasted clip in his pistol while motioning to the crowds of staring passers by along the roads. He dug his hand into his coat pocket and frowned when he produced only two more clips.

Elisa pulled two clips from under her red bomber jacket and tossed them on Owen's lap. "I use the same gun. Don't waste any rounds."

Owen nodded his thanks before sliding a fresh clip into his pistol and cocking it. He looked ahead of them.

"Detective. Where are you going?"

"Anywhere that doesn't have cars for me to crash into. Why?"

"One of Demona's old safe houses is several blocks away. They are fairly well fortified and should keep us safe from these creatures. I suggest we go there."

"Good idea!" yelled Talon from the back.

"I don't wanna die!" sobbed Maggie, bending her head over and covering it with her hands.

Claw rolled his eyes before sticking his arm back out and killing several more crows.

"Where is it?" yelled Elisa, narrowly avoiding crashing into a Dodge "Viper" that came around a corner she didn't see.

Owen pointed left. "Down that road. Then the second street on the right."

Elisa nodded and complied, her car skidding along the tarmac road when she made the turn just a little too hard as Owen stuck his head out again and began firing at the crows chasing them, dropping several with his first volley. Talon and Claw again added their own fire to the crows as the car sped down the road, dodging in between cars.

"They're catching!" yelled Talon as he destroyed another of the daemonic birds.

Elisa looked at her side mirror and swore. They were getting closer. They'd be overtaken any second.

"Damn," she muttered.

She saw the first right up ahead and risked a quick glance down it. It was a downtrodden old street with dozens of homeless people sleeping in boxes, blankets and anything else they could.

-Nearly there Maza, nearly there!-

Her Ford Fairlane raced down the street. Elisa could see the second turnoff, her heart soaring, as they got closer to it by the second.

-Nearly there. Nearly there. Stay cool Maza. Stay.oh shit!-

A truck came around the corner, as she was twenty meters from the turnoff. She could make out the driver's stunned face as both he and she pulled on the brakes.

Her cherry red Ford skidded left and right along the road before the front of the truck hit Owen's side. The car began spinning along the road from the impact as Maggie screamed while Talon grabbed hold of her and held her close. Claw dug his talons into the seat and door to brace himself while Owen actually swore while trying frantically pull his seat belt on.

Elisa Maza's world suddenly slowed down. She could see Owen out of the corner of her eye and make out everything outside the front windscreen of her car in great detail. She could hear sounds, but they seemed so distant to her that she couldn't make out who or what may be making them. As the car spun along the road for the third time, she became dimly aware of the traffic lights they were heading towards. From the way they were spinning she calculated they'd be hit in the rear.

As the car spun further she could see the way they had come from. She'd knocked over a newsagent's stand without even realising it. No one appeared hurt but she mentally chastised herself for doing it anyway.

~No where to go now Detective Maza.~ Came a voice within her head, cold, pitiless, evil.

~You are ours now.~

Her car had barely finished its rear impact into the traffic lights before the first crow smashed through the side window.

To be continued.