Negotiations

in a Garden

Author: Darkness

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Author's note: Once again, the idea of daemonhosts, daemonswords, and anything else related to daemons as such come from the ideas of the sci-fi author Dan Abnett or "The Games Workshop" and all its subsidiaries. I do not do this for profit. I do this because I enjoy it.

Now...on with the fiction!

Demon's Estate in southern Germany

Demona stood in near the centre of the dark, low ceilinged circular room. A few feet from her hovered the daemonhost Sin, bound in the corpse they had extracted from the devastated Czech town, its body covered in chains and talismans, while a thick chain that had been wrapped around its legs several times was fastened to the floor. The chain was slack as the daemonhost hovered down till the chains holding its arms that came from the walls prevented it from lowering itself any further. It looked down upon the azure gargess, the lingering of a smile upon its lips as it hovered two or so feet above the ground.

Demona looked up at the daemonhost, her face unreadable.

"We're leaving now," she stated flatly.

Don't let me hold you back. replied Sin.

"Is there anything you have left to say daemon?"

Like what?

"How about where the third weapon is?"

Jezebel knows, she was paying attention you see. Why don't you just ask her?

Demona growled. She hadn't spoken once to Macbeth's old servant since she had returned from the woods a little off from her mansion and had blatantly ignored Fang and Malibu as well.

They hadn't told her everything, they hadn't told her what she needed to know and so she now wanted as little as possible to do with them.

Oh...still a little bitchy about that eh?

Demona's eyes flared as she looked up at the smirking daemon, murder in her eyes. "I hope you don't think you're coming with us you filthy hell spawn. You're staying here where you can't do any more damage."

Of course, of course. Whispered the daemon telepathically. It smiled at her. As you say so my dear.

Demona ignored that and turned about on her feet and strode towards the door. "This place will be cemented in when I return," she said, not looking back at the Sin once. "The entrance way will be filled. All the lower rooms will be filled. You will never leave this room daemon. You will never hurt or lead astray anyone else again."

Of course. How noble of you.

Demona did not reply. She walked up to the door and turned the handle. Sin's host body would last forever, as long as the daemon was kept within it. The talismans would see to that. It would never escape on its own, and when she got her hands on the Malus Codicium she would destroy the filthy thing and with it gone Sin's name would be lost and it could never be summoned by any again.

Before you leave Demona. I would like to say something to you.

Demona stopped halfway out the door. "What is it daemon? I'm keeping everyone back as it is."

Don't kill Brooklyn.

"I know I can't already-"

But you can kill him. It's just that you will die too. Stated Sin, a hint of urgency now creeping into its voice. What I am telling you is that you must not kill him. Both he and you must not die yet. It doesn't matter how much you want to or how much you think it necessary. You two must survive. I must not tell you more, the fact I am saying anything at all is enough to get me punished most severely by my masters.

"Then why say anything at all?"

Sin grinned. Because I hate them. Why else?

Demona nodded and turned to leave. "Goodbye Sin. You and I shall not speak again."

The door closed quietly, its click followed a second later by the turning of a lock.

Sin looked at the door. The lights began to fade until everything was black. Sin smiled in the darkness.

But I will meet you again Demona, and speak to you. And when we do meet, you shall be glad to see me.

A warehouse eight miles outside of Luga, Russia: One day later

The warehouse had previously been that of a major chemical giant that had been owned by the Soviet Union, but after both it and the firm collapsed, it had drifted from one owner to the other over the years. It was a fairly large as warehouses go. It had a flat roof on which rested a nest of air ducts, over hanging windows and fans. The grey paint was peeling off the cracked walls; the main entrance to the place was a pair of very badly rusted three-inch thick steel sliding double doors. It was a decaying reminder of a previous era that many claimed was better, though few wanted to return to.

Despite its dilapidation, it was built conveniently beside the river Luga, which flowed into the town of the same namesake. It was also built near an access point to the still functioning rail system that the previous era had created and maintained, and was away from any main roads.

The renegade Inquisitor Harrison had found the place to be perfectly suited to his needs. A new tidal generator had been installed across the river a year and a half ago, when he had first discovered this place. It provided him with all the power he could possibly need, while the rail junction could allow him to transport any "goods" he either needed or made to and fro without much difficulty or chance of observation.

Inside the warehouse Benjamin Harrison sat, muttering incomprehensible things to himself, as he attempted to repair the damage done to Chimera by Riana and her gang of heretical thugs.

Chimera was laying on its back, stripped completely of its armour and clothes, lying on a large, heavily reinforced titanium table that had an automated fulcrum underneath that allowed the table to be tipped into both vertical and horizontal positions.

What had been left of Chimera's right arm had been removed from the shoulder; resulting in a flow of blood and vile smelling bodily fluids coming out of the wound that Harrison did not seem to notice. He himself was stripped to the waist, revealing a pale, yet very powerfully built abdomen that was laced all over with very deep and hideous scars. On closer inspection though, one might have seen a sort of pattern to them. They looked almost like symbols or runes of a sort, carved so deep into the flesh that they creased it inwards wherever they were. Some were even along his shoulders and his arms, evenly spaced down powerful muscles, ending with a single, but large one etched into the back of his hand.

He was completely soaked through with blood and fluids, even his hair had not escaped from the outflow of Chimera's wounds, and was now blackish red and crusted where it had once been greyish white and clean. He had carried over an arm he had kept in cold storage for his creation in case some damage had been done and a replacement was needed.

There were fresh cuts, some exceptionally deep, criss-crossing his back, as if he had been tortured by several spiked cat-o-nine-tails. They were part of his daily ritual of cleansing, a process in which he had his bio-flagellant named Fustis whip him as he administered his morning prayers and partook of the Eucharist. The bio-flagellant's snapped spine had been administered to the previous night so that he may have the spiked whips punish him in the morning for his failure to stop Riana. He had cleansed himself on a daily basis ever since he had liberated the Doctrine from the Inquisition, so that no daemons' temptations could brake through his Christian fortitude. The pain, he was sure, drove the evil away from him and kept him sane and on the right path.

This arm, like the rest of Chimera's flesh, had undergone heavy treatment from animal steroids and preservatives. It was ochre in colour. Harrison laid it down beside the slumbering Chimera and, taking his steel cords and opening the proper section of the Doctrine that was at his side during all his procedures, he began to chant, while stitching the flesh of two different gargoyles together.

As he chanted and sowed, veins and severed nerves sought their corresponding side out and merged together at his will. This time parts of the dead flesh, now alive by unnatural power actually began to weld together weakly in some parts, but they would not be strong enough on their own to support the huge weight of the new, fleshy arm and the armour that would need to be replaced as well. This made the steel cords a necessity, and he used reams of it in very generous amounts to attach the new limb to his masterpiece.

He growled something under his breath as his head jerked involuntarily to the left. It had been doing that for a while now, ever since Riana had shot him in the temple to be precise. Yet another heinous act to add to the list of crimes that she had committed against him. Just something else to make her pay for. The teachings of the Doctrine, those on the proper administration of chants, potions and special exercises of the mind, the body and the soul, along with the carvings on his body, had allowed him to survive the gunshot to his head and be almost totally healed in a matter of minutes.

It was akin to why the daemonhost had never turned on him, even when he had been brought down from the headshot. Both were a question of willpower.

There were many workbenches and tables scattered across the vast space of the inside of the warehouse, littered with weapons, including Chimera's halberd and Harrison's daemonsword, named Lux, implements of torture, medical equipment, both crude and advanced, jars of chemicals. There was a steel door not far from where Harrison was working that led to a cold storage locker that contained the remains of the two gargoyle kill-teams that had tried to stop him, they were all suspended up by meat hooks, the majority with large parts of their abdomens missing, along with limbs and internal organs while a couple had yet to even be touched. A few meters away from the table on the opposite side of Harrison was a wide iron trapdoor that was well polished and covered in daemonic runes of containment.

That was where his daemonhost, its body repaired by parts of some of the gargoyles was resting. There had been two females in the teams sent against him and he had picked the most beautiful parts to replace the damage done to his beloved wife's body but they still paled in comparison to her beauty. He had often told her of how she could put even the most beautiful of flowers to shame and even after all the years since her death, her beauty still held fast.

Bryon, his former friend and now one of his experiments lay stretched out on an operating table, stripped to the waist and missing his arms from were they had been bitten off by that by that bizarre daemon creature that had seemed to materialise out of no-where during Harrison's attempt at destroying Riana once and for all. Harrison had yet to decide what to do with Byron or how to improve his eyeless friend. He was sure however, that he could think of something before he set out after Riana the others that accompanied her.

He had buried the remains of James Farrell, who had been bitten in half by the same creature that had incapacitated Byron and maimed Chimera at dawn near the river outside. He had dug a good, deep grave for his friend and had read some of his favourite psalms over the mound, before promising vengance to his former friend, despite the fact he turned on him along with Byron and tried to stop him doing as God bid him do for just revenge.

After Chimera's arm had received all the proper treatment and the equipment had been sterilised in preparation for the next procedure, the replacing of the sections of flesh that had been damaged from shotgun rounds; Harrison decided to pray for an hour or more. As he rose from the raised chair that he had been sitting on while administering to Chimera's arm, he reached over for a towel and rubbed off some of the blood and fluids from his face. He walked away from the table and headed to what had once been the room for the manager that he had converted to a private chapel. As he was halfway there, he happened to cast a glance at the steel sliding doors. There was a tiny space between the concrete ground and the rusted steel. Between them a small folded piece of white paper had been pushed.

He observed it for a moment before tossing the towel on a nearby table and reaching over for the nearest available weapon on the same table, which was in this case, his daemonsword.

The second he touched the handle of the blade, the Daemon Prince Lux tried to lash out at him, as it had been doing for the past eight months since he had summoned and bound it to his greatsword. As usual, Harrison's will beat down the daemon contemptuously.

He strode over to the double doors, holding the daemonsword in a loose two-handed grip. He stopped a few feet from the door and held out his left hand while his right's grip around the handle of the sword tightened. He made a sweeping gesture with his free hand and the doors slid opened quickly, filling the air with ruckus of screeching metal before crashing against the barriers that prevented them from sliding off their tracks completely.

Harrison strode out into the open, concrete laid grounds surrounding his home, looking around warily. There was steel, electrified fences that surrounded his home on all sides, with the power cables from the hydroelectric generator being attached to his equipment from underground. If the exterior generator had been disabled, an alarm would have been activated immediately while a small back-up generator would have been activated immediately that would have kept the power inside running for at least a couple of hours.

He looked out past the fences in his field of vision. Grass, long and unkempt, swayed in the evening breeze while the air was filled with the gentle rustling of the leaves of the trees growing by the river. It was getting close to twilight; the clouded sky was taking on a hint of greyish blue as he could make out a fiery orange orb that was the sun far off in the distance begin it slow, inexorable descent behind the plain hills on the other side of the river. He stood, momentarily lost in the absolute beauty of the scene around him, a tear running down a wrinkled cheek as his thoughts drifted to his wife, remembering bitterly how they had made it a tradition to watch the sun go down from their home for almost everyday of their twenty two years of marriage. Seeing that there was no one near, he turned about and walked unsteadily over to the paper. He picked it up quickly and unfolded it one handed as he walked back into the warehouse, the double doors sliding shut behind him as he read the note.

Dear Sir,

It has come to our attention that you and us seem to have a similar goal in mind, that being the prevention of the gargoyle and those who seem to be helping him which we know you encountered two days ago. We would have given assistance but we arrived a little too late, and were a little unsure as to what side you were on.

However, after watching your activities for a little while, we suspect that we could both benefit from combining resources. If you are interested in meeting with us, please be at the Rodyin Memorial gardens at the city centre tomorrow at 9:00pm.

We look forward to meeting with you.

Some friends.

Harrison crumpled the note in his hand as he looked back over his shoulder to the doors he had just entered. He then looked around the interior of the warehouse. He tapped his foot thoughtfully for a moment before going back to finish his work on Byron. He had gotten an idea for his friend's repairs.

The Rodyin Memorial Gardens, Luga: the next day: 8:56 pm

The memorial gardens were based in the town centre, about a hundred or so meters from the river, somewhat like a central park. They were roughly an acre square and consisted of several richly colourful garden sections, cut apart by pathways of sand coloured pebbles, all leading from the corners before coming together in a circle around the cenotaph dedicated to the thirteen thousand or so soldiers who died in the city's defence during the beginning stages of the Nazi invasion in 1941. An island of colour in an ocean of greys.

The sun was slowly setting, turning the sky the colour of fiery red as it slowly began its descent behind the buildings of the small city, the colours spreading out to the grey clouds, giving those nearest to the sunset an almost flaming golden aura.

Puck and Anubis stood side by side, looking over the cenotaph. Over the rather beautiful epitaph done by a local poet written in bronze on the front of the cream coloured marble structure someone had spray-painted in neon yellow "I eat cunts for breakfast!" in scrawled, dripped writing. Anubis looked around. Between each pathway leading to the cenotaph from the corners were four wooden benches. Underneath several were some empty beer bottles, rapping from takeaways, burnt out cigarette butts, an old newspaper...

He stopped and stared at a used condom in utter disbelief.

He growled inhumanly, as his fists clenched so hard the skin began pale. "Have these people no respect?" He started looking out around at the gardens, suddenly becoming aware of gaps in the flows every now and then, spread out randomly throughout, where flowers had been pulled up from the ground or crushed down from where drunks had obviously collapsed on top of them. The wooden benches, all painted a dark shade of green had shaky and barely comprehensible messages scrolled over much of them. Those few he could read only fuelled his growing anger.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder and turned to look at Puck. The Fey trickster gave him an understanding look. "It's just the younger generations Anubis. Letting booze think for them."

"I don't care what generation does this or what excuse they use. It's deplorable. I've never seen such total disrespect for life or for the sacrifices of the past."

"Don't get out much do you?"

Anubis glared at him before looking back at the cenotaph. "I don't like being out in this world. I prefer to look out on them from afar, at their achievements and supposed advances, because as soon as I'm out among them and can get a closer look I see that they never change. There is as much respect for life now in these people now as there ever was. I want to think highly of mankind, I really do, I like to think that they're deep down a good people and that they deserve our respect, but the only way I can do that is if I look at them from a massive distance so that I can't make out the real details."

Puck sighed sadly. He looked around the gardens and circled the cenotaph for the eighth time in the past several minutes, picking up more scrawled writings sprayed elsewhere on the marble, some of which would have made him burst out laughing if it weren't for his present company. He and Anubis had always been good friends, despite the fact they looked at the world differently at times. Puck would never have admitted it to anyone but at times he often thought the Egyptian Fey looked at things from a slightly naive perspective.

He looked around yet again, this time outside of the gardens at the streets. It was beginning to get darker, but not yet enough for the street lights to be switched on. Cars, vans and lorries drove on along the roads while the pavement was still well populated with pedestrians. The shops were all still open and likely to remain so for at least a couple of hours more. He looked over to one of the corner shops and saw Yuri among the crowd. The Eastern Fey, still in the clothes she had worn when they had met in Paris, was among the people, trying to blend in but standing out rather like a white viper would in a clutch of brown rabbits. Genieve and Robert were also mingling, doing a much better job than Yuri was. He was actually having difficulty spotting them.

"Do you think he will come?" asked Anubis, not turning his head to look at him but instead keeping his gaze fixed on the defiled cenotaph before him.

Puck shrugged. "Maybe. I hope so. If he is as powerful as we suspect then we could deal with Brooklyn quickly, before he has a chance of growing stronger."

"I would like to have known more about him before we established contact."

"I suppose so, but I think you'll agree that we don't have much time."

Anubis grumbled something, folding his arms. He still maintained his human appearance, dressed in dusty old travel robes while Puck had switched to a more plainer dark green shirt to go with his blue jeans, brown boots and black leather jacket, bedecked in badges.

They stood for several minutes in an uncomfortable silence before Puck noticed a man, followed by two others dressed in long cloaks with hoods attached and pulled over their heads emerge out of the crowd and head towards them.

"Hello. Anubis! We've got company."

The Egyptian Fey looked over to where Puck was gesturing. He frowned darkly as the man stopped a few feet away from them, his followers staying back at a respectable distance. The gentleman took a step forward to offer his hand, but Anubis found himself withdrawing back from him almost without realising it. There was something about this man he found indescribably repulsive.

The man, whose age seemed to be between mid forties or very early sixties, looked somewhat offended before Puck jumped to his friend's rescue, coming in between them and taking the man's black leather gloved hand and shaking it vigorously.

"Hello there! My name's Puck! And this is my very good friend Anubis! We're-"

"I know what you are Fey," growled Benjamin Harrison. His grip tightened around Puck's hand considerably, so much so that Puck actually found himself gritting his teeth. "You wish to do a deal with me? Then speak! We have little time as it is and I don't want to waste any on fairies!"

He released Puck's hand and the Fey trickster took a step back, looking over Harrison carefully. "Before we start anything I think we should know your name."

"I am Benjamin Harrison. Inquisitor, sorcerer, soldier, take whichever of those titles as you wish to address me by but know this. I am an instrument of God's wrath and I will meet any disrespect given to me with a bullet. Now talk."

"My, my," said Puck, a wry smirk slipping across his lips. "Your touchy."

"And you are from an aloof race of debauchery and decadence. What is it you want from me?"

"I want to make you an offer," replied Puck.

Harrison looked him over suspiciously for a moment. "Go ahead."

"We've come here to put a stop to a gargoyle," began Puck. "He used to be a friend of mine, but lately he seems to have lost his marbles. He's been running around Europe, killing people and trying to find some sort of daemonic super weapons to kill our King with."

"I see," said Harrison. "I encountered him two days ago. He had some sort of daemonstaff that amplifies the user's magical prowess considerably, although I never gave him a chance to use it. A fat gentleman with some kind of daemonic creature accompanies him, extremely dangerous, it did the vast amount of damage to my men. There's a woman with them aswell." He paused, as his eyes seemed to blaze with fury. He looked at Anubis and Puck. "You wish to work with me do you not?"

Puck nodded but Anubis said nothing. He was staring behind Harrison, at the two who accompanied him, with pity and horror.

Puck seemed to sense that something was wrong with his friend and looked around at him. "Anubis? Are you alright?" he turned around to look at Harrison. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

Harrison frowned but nodded almost understandably. Puck smiled quickly and went over to Anubis, who seemed to have been slowly backing off from them while they had talked. He took the Egyptian Fey by the shoulder and led him away from Harrison and his men a few meters to the other side of the cenotaph. He stopped only to find that Anubis was still staring at Harrison's two companions. Puck glanced over at them too. Neither had moved at all since they had arrived behind Harrison.

He turned to look back at his friend. "What is it buddy? What's wrong with them?"

Anubis finally took his stare off of Harrison's companions and looked directly at Puck. "They shouldn't be."

Puck frowned, hoping Harrison wasn't in hearing distance. "What do you mean?"

"They shouldn't be alive! They're dead but, yet...they aren't."

"What do ya mean? They're undead?"

"No," whispered Anubis desperately and shaking his head. "It's not that, it's something else. This man... he's not right. I can't place my finger on it exactly, but there is something desperately wrong about him. Don't tell me you haven't felt anything?"

Puck frowned but said nothing. It was true, he had felt something unusual about this man as he approached but he had put it aside because they needed his help.

"I don't want to work with him," whispered Anubis suddenly, a trace of desperation edging into his voice. "I don't want to work with this man Puck. I...I can't."

Puck stared at him, stunned. "What?"

"I don't want to work with him."

"Anubis, we need his help."

"We do not need his kind of help."

Anubis slipped out of Puck's grip and actually grabbed his friend by the shoulders and brought him forward suddenly. "No good will come of working with him," he whispered, the desperation becoming more pronounced with each word. "We...we can contact the court, get Oberon to deal with this personally."

"But Yuri's right. They'll be a scandal and–"

"Fuck the scandal!" Anubis almost yelled. "At least we won't be indebted to that man!"

"Anubis-"

"His power is great Puck. I don't deny that but his mind Puck! Yuri is right he's not stable. We...please Puck. Please, I don't want to work with him."

Puck suddenly found himself getting angry. This was ridiculous! The fate of Avalon, and potentially Alexander could be at stake and Anubis was being picky over who they should work with?

Anubis seemed to understand that Puck was getting angry over his reluctance. He looked down at the ground and sighed sadly. "Can't I say anything to change your mind?"

Puck shook his head. "He's powerful. He could do the fighting for us. We'd only have to clean up afterwards. Daddy Oberon might not need to know at all and whatever he wants in return...well, we could just do the usual."

"That won't work with him," said Anubis, still not looking up at his old friend's face. "Whatever it is he wants we'll have to keep our side of the bargain. He's too powerful to double-cross."

"Well, power's one thing. Intelligence is another."

Anubis nodded but still wouldn't look up at Puck. Puck thought this adequate and made to go back towards Harrison but Anubis held on to his arm for a moment longer. "There's evil around him."

Puck sighed this time. "I know. But if we can use him properly then Alex and Oberon will be safe and we'll have nothing to fear." He came close and patted his friend on the shoulder encouragingly. "Whatever comes, I'm positive we can control this man. He looks bright but we have millennia of experience on our side." He paused to grin mischievously. "When we're done with him we'll dump him so fast that it'll make his head spin."

Puck's grin grew when he saw the slightest hint of a smile forming across Anubis' lips. "Okay Puck. If, if you're sure of this then I'll work with him. You've more experience in trickery than I. I trust that you'll be able to get us out of this."

Puck nodded and went over to where Harrison was waiting. The human was looking them over slowly, as if sizing them up for something. "Well? Are we ready now?"

"Yes," said Puck. "We are now quite ready."

"Excellent. Let's make the negotiations simple. You wish to ally with me?"

"Yes."

"Then here are the rules. When we catch up with them you and your lackeys are not to touch the woman. She's mine and mine alone. Do you understand?"

"Yep."

"Two, I don't need your help. It's you who needs mine. As such I want you to give me something for my services."

Puck frowned. "And what, pray tell, do you want?"

"You come from Avalon?"

"Yes," said Puck, becoming wary. "Why?"

Benjamin Harrison smiled darkly. "I have heard from more than one text that the Fey keep one of the most spectacular of libraries in the world. I would like access, both to Avalon and its library."

"Now wait one minute!" started Anubis. "You can't possibly expect us to-"

"Agreed," said Puck quickly.

Anubis growled inhumanly, as one of his arms shot out and grabbed Puck by the back of his leather jacket. He started roughly dragging the Fey trickster back to where they had argued moments before, not caring what Harrison thought of the scene.

He spun Puck around to face him. "Are you mad?! We can't possibly let someone like him on Avalon!"

"Why not? It might be kinda fun."

"What? To grant him access to the library? To all our collected knowledge? To God only how many magical tomes? Who knows what someone like him would do with access to such power! And then there's Titania and Oberon. If one of them doesn't kill us for this then the other will!"

"Hey, my good half-jackal buddy." Whispered Puck coolly, as his face turned mischievous. "Relax for once. I said I could handle him didn't I? Despite all that power, he is still only human. I promise you. He'll never get even one foot on Avalonian soil."

He turned about and strode over to Harrison again before Anubis could even protest. Harrison had his arms folded. It was obvious his patience was running thin.

"Well?" he asked briskly. "Have you and your friend sorted everything out now? My terms are non-negotiable so it's a simple matter of a yes or a no."

"Yes," said Puck immediately. "You help us take down the gargoyle and his friends and I shall personally ensure that you have access to Avalon and it's library."

"Good," said Harrison. He produced a small notebook from a pocket from the long brown greatcoat he was wearing with a small pen attached to the front cover. He took off the pen and opened the notebook and scribbled down something before tearing the page out and handing it to Puck. "Meet me at this spot at noon in two days time. I shall have completed my preparations to move by then. Do not contact me in that time. I shall meet those other three people doing such a poor job of blending into the crowd then. Good day to you."

With that Harrison turned about and walked down one of the gravel pathways, the two cloaked figures falling in behind him.

Anubis growled and crossed his arms. "This is a very bad idea Puck. I dare say we'll suffer for this whatever happens."

"Relax Anubis. I know what I'm doing."

Harrison turned first one corner and then another. His van was parked several blocks away from the meeting place. The crowds unconsciously parted for him and his two companions.

"They plan to trick me," he said, as they continued their walk. His two cloaked companions, Byron and Fustis, who had his bio-whips wrapped around his chest, said nothing, for their lips had been sown shut some time ago.

"Well, we shall go along with them, for the moment anyway. They could be useful to us in some respect."

They turned another corner and walked down a more open street. Harrison crossed himself as he passed a church.

"It is when this fiasco is over and their usefulness expires that I shall gain access to Avalon." He paused in his walking. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That Fey, the one was doing all the talking, I shall show him that it is not only in humanity's interest that I gain access to the library. It is God's Will." He smiled then, a confident smile you might expect to see on anyone who knows they're right. "He'll show me. If I have to torture it out of him then that is only a minor inconvenience. And after all, pain does cleanse the soul and I suspect that he is guilty of many sins. Therefore I shall be doing him a service really."

He brightened up considerably as he started walking again, picking up the pace so that his companions had to struggle to keep up.

There was so much to do now! So much to prepare for the journey!

He made the last turn before coming up to his van. Fustis and Byron got in the back via the sliding door on the side. Harrison slammed the door and got into the front, keying the ignition.

"God's will be done. And it shall be. Through me, and me alone."

He pulled the van off the curb and headed back to his warehouse to make all the necessary preparations.

To be continued...

Well I hope this part proved adequate. No violence I'm afraid but I shall try to make up for that in future chapters. 

As usual comments, suggestions, questions etc, are all very welcome. Hopefully I should be able to manufacture the next part in a few weeks time.

Until then!

Darkness

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