He was alone, finally. While he knew only hours had passed since he had been brought to this cold, featureless room, it could have been days for all he knew. It felt like it had been days. But then, slow torture through electrocution will do that.
Amon was tied to a metal chair by his wrists and ankles, and since Ivan and his thugs had left him he had let his chin sink to his chest, fighting to control the pain that seemed to emanate from everywhere. The only sound he could hear was his own raspy, shallow breath.
Thoughts and emotions were choking each other as they gathered thick in his head. His captors wanted information. He felt his endurance flicker light a bulb ready to burn out. He must hang on, must find more somehow, for her sake…
- - - - -
"It is in your best interest that you tell us everything you know," the Inquisitor had said, leaning in close to Amon's ear. "It will go much better for you."
When Amon remained resolutely silent, Koushon had looked to Ivan who was leaning against the drab wall. "I don't think my agent likes you very much," he observed in the same quiet voice. Ivan had smiled at that. "If you don't tell him everything you know about Zaizen and his projects, I'm afraid I'm going to have to let him do what he wants with you."
Amon had looked resolutely forward, making no sign of even hearing the white haired man with the immaculate gloves and black cassock.
Koushon slowly circled behind Amon and then leaned in to whisper into the other ear. "But I also want to know everything you know, or anything you may have heard about your partner, Robin Sena." Koushon finished his circle and took Amon roughly by the chin, forcing him to make eye contact. "Including why you disobeyed orders to Hunt her."
At the mention of her name, Amon could not keep eye contact with the old priest, though he tried to cover it. Koushon was not fooled. "Ah, I see you have something for us."
"Go to hell," Amon whispered, which only made the Inquisitor smile.
- - - - -
And now, after hours of Ivan's rough brand of questioning, Amon was looking for the strength to remain silent. In the end what he knew of Zaizen and the orbo project was pitifully small, so there really wasn't much to tell. His administrator had not been the type to share his plans, and Amon was perfectly satisfied with that arrangement.
However Robin… Amon grimaced. He mustn't tell them anything. He wouldn't. He had made the mistake of helping these men before. There wouldn't be a second time. Not even if it meant his life.
His head snapped up as the wooden door opened, revealing Ivan, who had used the interlude to see to the facial wounds inflicted by Amon. He sauntered in, closing the door behind him. He stopped before Amon, hands hanging benignly at his sides. "So," he said, "do you have anything to tell me?"
Amon let the moment stretch before looking up from under his eyebrows to his torturer. "Yes," he said softly. "I'm glad I had the opportunity to improve your face." And then he spat on Ivan's black boot.
The mirth left Grieg's face. "I'm so glad you said that," he hissed, flexing his fingers.
He had thought it was so clever – a stroke of genius, in fact.
- - - - -
Kate was dead, her blood figuratively on Zaizen's hands but certainly not on his conscience. After all, she had threatened to expose him, expose the orbo research to Solomon Headquarters. She had been a spy, Zaizen was sure of it. And he was not above killing to keep his secret or attain his goals. After all, people had already died for it. She was simply one more unfortunate casualty.
And now Solomon was sending a 'replacement.' A replacement what? Zaizen had mused. Not a Hunter, as they insisted was the case. No, he concluded, they were merely sending another spy. Kate must have succeeded at least in part, since rumors began to ooze forth; an investigation into Zaizen's 'Factory' and 'humane hunts' was underway. Somehow word had gotten back to Solomon, but Zaizen intended to put a stop to it.
So he went to his protector from on high, the Solomon Superior in his pocket. Father Juliano had resisted him, argued, threatened, but in the end had acquiesced. No Hunter would be sent to Japan to take Kate's position, Zaizen had insisted, unless he was allowed to name the Hunter.
He chose Robin Sena.
It was genius, and Zaizen congratulated himself on his victory. His team would get the Hunter it needed to function, and he would have Juliano's dirty little secret in the palm of his hand as insurance of the Father's good behavior. For Juliano was the only other person besides Zaizen himself who knew the secret of the orbo research, and only Zaizen's knowledge of Robin's relation to him had kept the Premier Master Hunter silent. Juliano wouldn't dare play him false, Zaizen had reasoned, not with his granddaughter's life at stake.
But as time passed, strange occurrences began to raise the warning flag in the Administrator's mind. Somehow the investigation into the Factory was still going on, and now Zaizen's regional bosses had gotten wind of it, sending them into a frenzy of fear and blame. He found his head hovering near the chopping block, and all despite his very clever safeguard.
It would seem, he reasoned, that Juliano was indeed capable of gambling with Robin's life. The only explanation was that Robin was the spy leaking orbo information to Italy. The only explanation.
And so Zaizen decided it was time to retaliate.
It hadn't taken too much investigating to discover that Juliano was not universally supported amongst the upper echelon of Solomon. He had been the Premier Master Hunter and Hunter Trainer of Solomon for the greater part of two decades, but now his powers were declining and the years of hard service were taking their toll. A call had begun to circulate among the bigwigs that it was time for Juliano to step down. A little more digging had revealed the author of this declaration, an elderly gentleman whose aspirations to greatness and willingness to play dirty warmed Zaizen's heart.
Inquisitor Koushon was his name, head of the Department of Inquisition, subsequently making him in charge of the dreaded investigation Zaizen was trying to bury.
'The enemy of my enemy is my friend,' Zaizen thought happily.
Even as Zaizen became aware of all this juicy backbiting, an event occurred that seemed to be sent as a gift from God himself. Robin went missing. As if that weren't enough, it appeared that she was in league with a group of witches in the Walled City, some of whom hacked the STNJ database to send her messages. She was up to something, that was obvious, and that something most assuredly had something to do with Juliano.
This was confirmation to Zaizen of his fears, and now he knew just what to do to rid himself not only of the spy in his midst, but of the Master Hunter who thought he could play the Administrator for a fool. He called for an Inquisition of Robin Sena.
Koushon arrived under the guise of Inquisiting a potential Hunter, but this was only cover for his real purpose – a meeting with Zaizen based on the Administrator's promise that it would be well worth the trouble.
Zaizen proposed that a deal be struck between them that would benefit both.
Koushon would have Robin Hunted as a Witch, thereby eliminating a leak and wounding Juliano in one fell swoop. He would also cease the investigation into the Factory and the orbo research.
In return Zaizen would deliver to him a secret so powerful that it would utterly destroy Juliano and rob him of his position, leaving it open for the ambitious Koushon.
- - - - -
But genius had turned to madness, and the pieces were falling apart despite the cleverness in which Zaizen had put them together.
He held the phone pressed to his ear, the Inquisitor's words ringing like a demonic gong. "I'm afraid if you cannot offer any solid written evidence of Juliano's daughter and granddaughter and his connection to them, I will have to withdraw from our agreement." The words had the ring of smug victory and the echo of death all in one sentence.
"No," Zaizen choked, resisting the urge to yell it. "I told you, I will find it, I know it's there, it's just that Juliano must have gotten rather clever at burying information." Too damned clever by half, really. Zaizen had been frantically searching for any of the signs that had led him to the dark truth fifteen years ago, and had come up with nothing.
"I have faith in your investigative skills," Koushon assured him with patronizing murmur of a practiced lie. " But surely you must see that hearsay and the supposed testimony of a dead scientist will not be convincing enough to unseat Juliano. It will all seem like scandalous gossip."
There was a pause, and Zaizen imagined the Inquisitor raising a drink in toast to his own ingenious deviousness. "Until I have it in writing, you must understand that I cannot interfere with the investigation pending on your organization. And I cannot Hunt Robin."
In other words, Zaizen thought bitterly as he hung up the phone, you took all and gave nothing. He had been outplayed, he was just now seeing it, and the sour gall of the realization threatened to gag him.
He had made a deal with the Devil, and the Devil had won. His eyes stared off into space, seeing nothing but his own ruin.
The sun was just beginning to stain the sky outside like watercolors diffusing on a wet page, but inside the church night still reigned and only an army of candles kept the dark at bay. Juliano sat on the hard wooden pew with his hands resting on his knees. His mind was still, having come to a decision at last. Now he only waited for the arrival of Father Adrian.
He felt the presence of the other Hunter in the huge cold space before he caught movement in his peripheral vision as Adrian seated himself on the pew beside him. Juliano looked steadfastly at the altar before him, studying the candlelight playing over the crucifix as he spoke.
"It has begun," his words echoed though he spoke softly, giving them the depth of prophecy. "Koushon has held the upper hand long enough."
The Hunter beside him remained still as was his habit, and Juliano still did not look his way but instead balled his hands into fists. "Too long have I labored in indecision. I have allowed him to control me, as I allowed Zaizen for fifteen impossible years."
"Koushon has taken Amon," Juliano said, allowing the words greater volume as though to punctuate the point. "He is undoubtedly trying to get information from him to use against me." He swallowed. "He is trying to bring me down at last."
And now he turned, directing his next words to his fellow Hunter. "Adrian, he has Morgan."
Even a Hunter so trained to aloofness as Father Adrian could not help but flinch at the implication of those words, and Adrian did just that, even turning his nearly colorless eyes to his superior with concern and a spark of fear.
"We must rescue them both from whatever Koushon has in store for them," Juliano said firmly, "and I need your help." His green eyes stared his companion down. "Adrian, are you ready for a Hunt?"
Adrian needed no words, the look in his eyes was enough. Still, he nodded his head, and Juliano clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Then we begin."
The two men rose, Adrian turning to leave immediately. Juliano, however, paused a moment and considered the crucified man before him. I finally do your will Lord, after all this time, Juliano thought fervently to the face of the sculptured Jesus. I will end what I began all those years ago. His eyes hardened. May I forgive myself.
He crossed himself sharply and turned for the door, and at a single thought every candle extinguished as though by an invisible hand.
Koushon couldn't help but lean his forehead into his hand as he held the receiver to his ear with the other. He had not slept at all during the very eventful night that was even now visible on the horizon, and he was of an age where an all night escapade did not come without its price.
He understood perfectly, however, the words he was hearing. "So I am to understand that you have been doing your best all night but you have not been able to get him to say even a single word?"
The silence on the line crackled with suppressed anger from both ends. "That is correct," Ivan finally conceded, though not without a hint of resentment. "But sir, he has to break soon, if you give me even just two more hours –"
Koushon put the flat of his hand on the desk before him with a sharp sound he knew Ivan could detect. "No, Grieg, he does not have to break! You have consistently underestimated this man to your misfortune on several occasions, and I must intervene now to save you from your own stupidity!"
He paused and took a breath to calm himself. Insulting one of his best agents was not going to further the Inquisition any faster. This pigheaded Hunter was proving to be made of sterner stuff than expected, the man who held information not only about his boss Zaizen, but about Juliano's granddaughter as well. Amon was the lynchpin to the plan, a gift that had fallen into his lap unexpectedly. With the information this young man undoubtedly possessed, Koushon could bring down Zaizen's blasphemous organization and destroy the man whose position he most coveted. Amon must talk.
After a moment of collection, Koushon spoke again. "And Juliano's agent hasn't spoken either?"
There was a pause that made the Inquisitor's full white eyebrows raise. "No, she hasn't."
"You have been dealing with her?"
"Of course. No result."
Koushon could not suppress a sigh. "Damn it, that girl is not a trained Hunter as Amon is. She has no combat experience. How is it she's holding up under torture?" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. She is of little concern to us."
He heard the doorbell sound from within his residence and Koushon's instincts prickled ominously. Whoever was paying him an early morning visit was most assuredly someone he did not want to deal with right now. "Leave him for the moment," Koushon hurriedly instructed his agent. "I will think on the problem. Wait until I call before continuing."
He had just replaced the receiver when the door to his study burst open, revealing the flowing black robes and wild white hair of Juliano who strode unrepentantly into the room, Koushon's butler trailing anxiously in his wake.
The Inquisitor waved the servant away, rising to his feet to greet his unwelcome guest. "Juliano, this is unexpected. I thought we had agreed to a meeting at –"
"I decided not to wait," Juliano replied succinctly, the words carrying the unmistakable ring of authority.
Koushon eyed the man carefully. This was not the same man who had sat hopelessly before him, trying not to beg as Koushon had triumphantly laid charges at his feet. No, the man standing before him now was the Premier Master Hunter of Solomon, and his aura seemed to fill the entire room. This did not bode well.
"Won't you sit?" Koushon asked graciously, indicating a chair before the desk.
"This won't take long," the Master Hunter replied. Koushon had begun to sit on the assumption that Juliano would do the same, but now rose again, unwilling to have to look up to this powerful man.
"Some weeks ago, you came to me with a proposition," Juliano began, making each word sharp like a whip crack. "You claimed to have information that would be damning to me, and offered the option of my resignation in exchange for your silence."
Koushon opened his mouth to speak, but Juliano raised a hand. "You also took it upon yourself to try to eliminate one of my Hunters, the same Hunter whom you implicated in your evidence of my misconduct."
His eyes were glued to the Inquisitor's, with no hint of emotion. "It is true – she must be Hunted. She is much too powerful now that she possesses the Arcanum of the Craft. However, it is my duty to perform Hunts in the name of this organization." He weighted his next words to ensure unmistakable meaning. "I am still and will continue to be the Premier Master Hunter of Solomon, and I will carry it out."
This declaration made Koushon feel every lacking moment of the sleep he had lost the night before, and he resisted the urge to sit. "Father Juliano," he argued, the hint of threat to his voice, "surely you do not want the blood of your granddaughter on your hands?"
The words did not have the effect he had intended. Rather than subduing the Master Hunter, they instead did the reverse. Juliano placed his hands on the desk, leaning in menacingly to come face to face with the Inquisitor. "I dare you to prove," he said in a deadly whisper, "that Robin Sena is anything to me at all."
Koushon steeled himself, refusing to take a step back. "I hardly think I would come to you with these allegations if I did not possess proof."
Juliano shook his head. "I know what proof you think you have and let me assure you – you will get no information from Zaizen."
He turned in a flowing of robes and headed for the door, but Koushon found his voice. "I don't need Zaizen. I have other evidence."
For an insane moment, the Inquisitor sincerely believed that Juliano would unleash a torrent of flames that would consume him where he stood. However he did not, only lifting a finger and pointing ominously at Koushon. "Prove it."
Even before the door closed, Koushon had the phone in hand.
Across the street, two pairs of eyes followed Inquisitor Koushon as he quickly exited his residence and slipped into the waiting car. After a moment it pulled away from the curb and into the sluggish flow of traffic.
So he took the bait, the Master Hunter thought triumphantly. Juliano turned on the screen embedded in the dashboard of his own sedan, and the picture popped up to indicate a map with a blinking dot moving across it.
"Follow him," he instructed to Adrian, who nodded and started the engine.
Author's Note: I promise to all you Amon fans out there, the next chapter is entirely him. (drools.) Not in the 'Full Monty' sense; not 'all' Amon (twitters at the thought), but it will be all his POV. As always, read and review folks! Thanks!