[ AUTHOR'S NOTE: READER DISCRETION ADVISED FOR MATURE CONTENT. ]

CHAPTER 13 - "A NEW ENEMY RISES"

Abberline kept his eyes closed even though he had a pair of goggles on to prevent the wind sheer from burning them during the fast ride in the yet unknown "soapbox racer", but he prefer to call it a "roadstir" because of the way Trent Banes made turns, stirring up the road.

The "roadstir" made a sudden stop and Abberline finally opened his eyes to see why. When he did, he saw a small barn in the distance at the end of a gravel roadway ablaze.

Trent Banes cursed. "This only means one thing, they knew we were coming for you and knew precisely where we would be headed."

"This was the safe house?" Abberline asked.

"Was is the correct word, Inspector," Trent said. "If they knew about this place, they know of the others. And I left Spencer alone back there." He cursed again.

"Should we go back for him?"

"No, Spencer can take care of himself. He will be fine. But we must find another place to hide you."

Abberline thought for a moment. "It's a long shot, but I think I may have an idea," he said.

"Where?"

And Abberline told him.

When Spencer Von Strauss finally awoke, he felt excessively groggy. He opened his eyes, but all he saw was blackness. Not an ounce of light hit his eyes.

And he felt cold. Very, very cold. And he was trapped.

His wrists were shackled at his sides with very short length chains and his ankles were the same. He lain on something smooth, like marble, and it was cold, chilling his naked back. Trousers and his collar with the crucifix were the only things he felt he wore, as his shirt, socks and boots had been removed.

He felt every ounce of cold in this place through his bare skin and if he didn't know it, he could swear he felt a cold breeze whisking around inside wherever this place was. And whoever had undressed him and shackled him like this, and here, obviously intended something sinister to happen.

Where am I?

The last thing he remembered was being struck on the back of the head with something hard in Abberline's home when he confronted a second assassin standing over the first, for which Spencer had killed. It had been the first time he had ever maliciously murdered anyone. But it was done in self-preservation. If his father knew that he had been feeding Abberline information on the Illuminati, he would be killed.

Which it appeared he was going to be.

He felt an aching throbbing from the back of his skull where he had been struck, but he knew the hit had not killed him, save for the darkness that surrounded him. It was not enough to, or so he thought. He still had his faculties - if he were dead, he could not feel the cold. This bitter cold he felt here.

He was a Christian and wholeheartedly believed in God, which is why he felt what the Illuminati were doing went against the very nature His holiness. It was sacrilegious; engaged in debauchery; they participated in acts that worshipped false idols and demonic deities, against the very nature of His very essence. He could understand how Holy Wars began.

Humans decided for themselves how they will live their lives, God gave them free will. But some people believed cleansing the world of "unclean" people will restore humanity in His good graces. Wars would begin, and as the bible stated, even angels had doubts. They then became Fallen Angels. Demons were different, they were born evil, begot by other demons, and so on, and so on. All and all, born from darkness, to live in darkness…

This dark place felt like a plateau between the living and the dead. The bitter coldness that resided in it filled his skin and bones with an eeriness and a fear that screamed for him to escape from. He struggled against the shackles, but to no avail. The sound they made echoed loudly in the emptiness when he moved and all he could do was lay there and wait - wait for what was to be his fate.

How could be so stupid as to wage a silent war against the Illuminati? He wanted them to pay for what happened to his sister. He was at the ceremony. He watched her die. And he just stood there. Was he as guilty as them? When good men do nothing, it is the same as allowing evil to live. So from that day forth, he vowed to repent for all his sins, and take revenge on the Illuminati…

But was death his reward for his good efforts? Had God abandoned him?

Why hath thou forsaken me, my lord?

Or was this merely his brother's doing?

Had he become so outspoken about the Illuminati after his sister had been killed that he had finally gone too as to tell First-Inspector Frederick Abberline of them, in the hopes of exposing them? He knew of his father's disappointment, but would he go so far as to kill his own son to preserve the secrecy and the sanctification of these group of sadistic individuals?

Erich Von Strauss was a very unforgiving man. Was there nothing he would not do?

His father had sent out an assassin to murder a police inspector. And with the police commissioner an ally of Thann's, the killing would no doubt be covered up. Spencer may have been young, but he wasn't stupid. And yet, he had crossed the line this time by helping Abberline escape?

He thought about shouting out to his brother, but what would that prove other than he was scared. And the worse thing he could concede to was that he was frightened of what his brother might do to him. But there was something about this darkness, this emptiness, that truly frightened him. He had never been afraid of the dark when he was a child, but this was a darkness that honestly frightened him.

And he felt like he was being watched - that the darkness had eyes.

After what felt like an hour shivering in the cold, no one had come to see visit him. Was he here to be left to die, to freeze - a slow and agonizingly, painful death?

His teeth chattered and his body trembled with cold.

He had had enough. He was just about to shout out to his brother when a speck of light in the distance beyond his feet emerged like a beacon, but it was only a door opening, its iron hinges creaking, filling the emptiness…

His eyes went to focus and he found himself looking at the silhouette of a man, illuminated by soft light from the outside corridor. It was then the man snapped his fingers and eight torches burst to life, filling the room with bright light. And it was empty, save for it being largely circular in circumference and diameter with the walls painted black. The large marble "alter" he was chained to was the only item in the room.

The man wore all black and he was young in appearance, but he looked experienced and confident. His hair and long fingernails were as dark as night, but his skin was pale white like a ghost.

Spencer knew Thann had many unsavorily friends who enjoyed dwelling in dark, gothic habitats. This could be one of them. There were may mythological beings, like demons and other assorted demonic-like creatures, that humans praised and favored to be like because they were powerful in nature, and could not find their place in the world, so they engaged in devilish behavior, sharing their interests of others. There was a new wave of young men and woman who fed off this content and favored to be one with the dead, albeit symbolically. Although, some, like this man, decided to go one step further painting his fingernails black. Did he also fang his teeth and drink bloodwine like some crazy Bulgarian ruler in the 15th century?

The man smiled coolly as he approached the alter. He was tall, thin and reedy, like Thann, and was of the same height, but his brother was more muscular and expository in his black, leather attire. This man was similarly dressed, but his clothes were skin tight, arms sleeveless, with black pants and high boots. He also had a tattoo on his left arm in a circular pattern with inner-locking triangles with Latin writing. Spencer could only speak a few phrases of Latin, but he didn't know what these words or phrases on his arm said.

"Good evening, Herr Spencer Von Strauss," the man said with a mild English accent. But Spencer knew the man was not English, there was just something about him that hinted at such. "My, you are a delectable one." The man gently caressed Spencer's stomach with a very cold hand, making Spencer twinge.

"Stop that!" he demanded.

The man smiled coolly again, removing his hand, slowly closing it, his black nails receding in his palm. He backed away, but still kept within arms reach of the alter. "You oppose me touching you?"

"Most strongly! Who are you?"

"My name is unimportant at the moment, but what I can offer you will be of importance soon."

Spencer still felt the icy coldness of the man's touch on his skin and it gave him an inner chill. He brought his arms up to the maximum height he could, bound in chains. "My only wish is to be freed. I have been stripped near bare. Do I have you do thank for this indignity?"

"Not I, Herr Strauss - "

"Don't refer to me by that!"

"It is a sign of status and your heritage, much like an English lord and his title when he comes of age. You and your brother were both born in England, but your father was both in Germany. And with your father in his position of status, you should be respected. Albeit, you have disavowed him and his secret associations with a certain group of people because of their sinister nature and practices."

"My brother told you this? Yes, why else wouldn't he, if he plans to kill him this very day. My father and Thann have brought you here to torture me before my murder, so I will tell you where the inspector is."

The man waved off Spencer's assumptions. "The Abberline issue will be dealt with eventually. You were your father and brother's main objective. They hypothesized that you were the informant aiding Abberline in his secret investigation into the Phantomhive boy,and staged the assassination of the detective knowing fully that you would attempt to stop it. And you did. Thus, you are here."

The man reached into his a pants pocket and pulled out a folded picture of four individuals. Spencer knew immediately who they were: Mathu Kelvin, his gypsy squeeze, and the serial twins, Sasha and Samuel Ironstadt - for which he had taken this picture and given to Abberline. But where did this man get it? He had only taken and developed one picture, there were no duplicates.

But apparently this had been his downfall. He didn't know whence it had come from, but he wagered Thann had some how acquired it with help from the police commissioner of Scotland Yard. Thann was the Illuminati's chief investigator and envoy.

The man tossed it away as if it meant nothing, Spencer watching it until it flew out of sight. Then he returned his gaze to this man. "I will not tell you anything," he said.

"I have not asked any questions," the man said, "and nor will I need to."

"Then why am I here?" Spencer momentarily looked around the empty room. "Thann could have had me murdered at the Abberline home if there will be no interrogation. I have nothing to say that obviously my brother and the Illuminati are not already aware of. I am of no use to you."

"Everyone is useful in one fashion or another, even if they are unaware of their usage."

The man once again touched Spencer's stomach, then dragged his hand gently up to his chest and down the side of his body, giving Spencer an even greater chill. And involuntarily, Spencer's nipples tightened in the cold atmosphere of this place and his skin filled with goose bumps.

"I said stop that!" he demanded.

But the man continued, even going so far as to reach down his trousers. Spencer tightened his body, and the gentle, icy coldness of the man's touch caused him to breath out almost…pleasurably.

"Stop that, please!"

"Come, come, Herr Spencer. Your secret is out, so to speak. Someone has betrayed you. Your brother knows about you and your friend, Trent Banes. You are closer than anyone you hope will learn."

Spencer tightened up and gasped in a moment of panic. The man stopped, Spencer's eyes widened.

"Things happen, relationships blossom. You need not be fearful of the truth."

"You lie!"

"The body does not lie, you are aroused by my touch - and I knew you would be. I am the kind of person who knows what I person most desires. And every human has desires. Sex is no different."

Spencer looked down and couldn't deny it. He gritted his teeth in anger. "I demand you stop this debauchery right now!"

"Sex is a part of human nature. The ancient Greeks engaged in 'debauchery' thousands of years ago to starve off frustration before Olympic competition because women were not allowed to attend and there were even bathhouses dedicated to it, it was socially acceptable - unlike today. Humans, as a species, are filled with urges. There are many more people like you in the world, Herr Strauss. You are not alone. Why be embarrassed by something that only comes natural?"

Spencer remained silent, admitting to nothing.

"You speak of debauchery and licentiate behavior regarding the Illuminati in their ceremonies, you disavow their barbarity and illicit sexual appetites and sacrifice as against the natural law of God. But you yourself engage in such behavior in secret with a childhood friend and seek pleasure from his embrace because you dare not hurt a woman, not after what you saw what your brother did to your sister. You watched, as he raped your sister, you listened to her screams, saw the blood dripping from her…"

Spencer's jaw tightened and his eyes closed, filling with tears. Then he shook his head. "Stop it, please."

"Then she was sacrificed. Your own brother stabbing her as he continued to rape her, thrusting harder, her screams louder not filled with pleas to stop but with pleasure, her blood dripping down from the alter into the catchers basin below, to be offered up to whatever demonic deity the Illuminati were worshipping, and then each member attending, sipping from her honeysuckle nectar, as she bleed to death."

And Spencer cried.

"After you saw this, this is when you began to turn away from your father's preaching's, and you told your friend about it. He knows how to keep a secret. And he tried to comfort you. It was then, when you were vulnerable, his own urges brought about, he, a few years older than you, set to ease your pain. And you gave in, then unknowing what true pleasure was, even during your entitlements with women in past ceremonies you grievously engaged in with the Illuminati, you accepting their sacrifice to indiscernible deities."

Tears streamed down Spencer's face, but his face flushed when the man began to touch him once more, the chill of his hand bringing him to a form of ecstasy he had never felt. It was almost as if the man was generating something else with his touch throughout his body it make it more…

"There are two absolutes in this world, Herr Spencer Von Strauss - pleasure and pain. After pain, relief will set you free. Your brother has done more harm to you than even he knows, but I can take the pain away…"

"Hoooow…" Spencer said breathlessly, his eyes glittering, as he looked at the man down his naked chest, the man's face near his midsection. "I have sinned greatly, I deserve to die," he said softly and slowly.

"Do not throw your life away so haphazardly, young Strauss." The man straightened up, not doing what Spencer thought he was about to do. "You can be of great use to me in the war yet to come."

"War?" The man crossed the open space of the room and went to stand next to the black wall, he appeared to blend with it. The torch lights dimmed considerably, as if by his command, darkening the room. Spencer's vision was blurred by his tears and the man's form faded, save for two red dots. "Who are you?"

"I am he whom you will now refer to as Master."

And Spencer felt an overwhelming compulsion to agree.

Thann Von Strauss leaned against the stone-walled corridor of an old prison complex outside a closed, thick iron door. It had felt like an hour since he had come here. His arms were crossed with frustration in having to wait. The corridor was poorly lit with new electrical lightning that flickered in the coldness of the place, a place where many men had died from crimes against the British Crown. It was then shut down and purchased by Thann's father to be revamped for the Illuminati. The room Spencer was in was only the first room to be redone. It was an simple sacrificial room with a large stone alter.

The man who was inside the room behind a closed door requested the room be painted black, and his father approved it. Why black, Thann didn't know, and frankly, didn't much care. Thann's father had told him to deal with his brother when it was learned Spencer was Abberline's informant. It was a task that Thann was not looking forward to, but was compelled to oblige. No one was above the Illuminati. But the man who had come with him, appointed by his father, a new face within the Illuminati, had wished to do the interrogation, and then the killing. Rather than getting his hands soiled with Spencer's blood, he let the man do it.

But oddly enough, he had not heard Spencer scream once. And why was it taking so long?

The door finally opened, and the man emerged, licking his fingers.

"Is it done?" he demanded, straightening, unfolding his arms.

"Of a sort. I did not kill him, however. He told me something interesting, thus I left him alive. For now."

Thann scowled. "That was not why you went in there. What did he tell you?"

"Nothing that will concern you."

Thann looked disgusted by what the man continued to do, if it was indeed what he thought it was. He had told the man of Spencer's relationship with his friend Trent and hoped to use to against him to get information on where Trent Banes had taken Abberline. The man had seemed intrigued by the information, as if it was a great levy to use against his brother. Which, for fear of anyone else but Thann knowing, it would be; he, himself, learning by accident one night, when he found the pair in bed together sleeping.

Fear was a great motivator for keeping secrets.

Thann looked past the man and into the torch lit room where he saw his brother still chained, but unconscious, lain on the alter, his trousers untouched. But his collar with the crucifix had been ripped from his throat and tossed to the floor.

The man then pulled out a small sugar cake he got somewhere... that he had in his other hand, and chuckled to himself, as if reading Thann's mind.

"I do so much enjoy this stuff," the man said. "Sugar cane." He devoured the rest whole, chewing.

"Did you find out where Trent Banes took Abberline?" Thann looked back at the man, somewhat relieved that his initial idea behind the man licking his fingers had been incorrect.

The man spoke when he finished eating. "Your brother doesn't know."

"You said you could learn this information."

"A person can not reveal what they do not know."

"If Trent attempts to take Abberline to any of my brother's 'secret' safe houses, they will be out of luck," Thann said. "But it doesn't matter now. Abberline's investigation into Lukas Phantomhive is at an end. And Bryon Kelvin is no where to be found. He is a very elusive man even to us."

"Or he has blinded you to his whereabouts," the man said. "Evil is powerful, it knows how to hide. Lazarus still wishes him found for his crimes against his son, notwithstanding. The twins were working for him and kidnapped his son and then gave him to the Inner Circle for their sacrifices that eventually brought forth their own finality. But in their misfortunate, they did happen to succeed, only for it to destroy them."

"This is why Lazarus wants Sebastian Michaelis. And this is why you are here. No one knew that two demons came through the gateway that fateful day."

The man - the demon - chuckled. "And neither does Sebastian Michaelis."

"But you only went to Lazarus just recently, Decco. What have you been doing for two and a half years?"

"Preparing," Decco said simply. "And soon, I will be ready."

To be continued…