Vastra and Alaya watch at the ship's passengers exit one by one. Alaya points to the the older gentleman who is holding a large leather briefcase.

Vastra and Alaya are followed by a small group of men.

Vastra smiles, "Good Day Mr. Crowley, please escort me?"

"I am Mr. Crowley, there are many men named Mr. Crowley. Are you sure you have the correct individual?" He attempts to walk around Vastra.

Vastra allows him to pass only to see his passage is controlled by others and soon he is facing Vastra again.

"Mr. Crowley," She smiles. "I assure you that I have the correct Mr. Crowley. You are Edward Crowley..."

He smiles, "I am not Edwa ..."

Vastra puts up a hand for him to stop babbling, "Pardon allow me to correct myself, you are Aleister Crowley. You are who I seek."

"What is it that you want?" He annoyingly accepts defeat. "Get on with it, I have been in Germany to pick up some essential medicine."

"Mr. Crowley," Vastra opens her hand into the direction of the police automobile with the rear door wide open. "I assure you this is important."

"What of my things?"

Alaya comes to her side, "We have acquired your belongings and we have them in our possession."

He turns to the police automobile, walks slowly, deliberately to annoy the tall female woman who seems to be in charge. He easily gets into the automobile when he is scooted to the middle by Vastra from the passenger side and Alaya from the driver's side.

Mr. Crowley takes a deep breath and coughs into his handkerchief.

It was a quiet ride to the basement of the hospital.

The small group of people escore Mr. Crowley to the morgue.

Alaya knocks.

"Come in!"

Mr. Crowley sees two women covering up bodies with white sheets, "I am sorry we were just in the middle of an investigation."

Vastra speaks, "This is Mr. Crowley."

"Mr. Crowley good meet you," She holds her hands to herself, "I have treatment on my hands I assure you."

"I understand." Mr. Crowley looks around the morgue, "I have never been to a morgue before. It is quite cold and sterile."

The second female speaks, "Sterile is a compliment." She smiles at the visitor. "I am Dr. Mosin, I am pleased you are here."

Stunned, "Me?"

The first female speaks again, "I am Dr. Vastra Saint-Clair. We are so glad you have returned to London. When we were informed you were returning to London on the SS Cap Arcona from Berlin."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"The Nazi Government is quite particular in keeping track of everything." Vastra flips through pages of her notes dramatically, "Ah. Yes. Berlin shall not have your back anytime soon after you have lambasted the Chancellor of Germany as a black magician."

Mr. Crowley's face becomes quite serious and he wants to defend himself with his words. He surmises quickly that it is best to keep mum, until it is necessary. He decides it is time to seek answers, "Why do you have me here?" He coughs again.

Alaya quickly pours Mr. Crowley a hot cup of tea, "This should assist in your asthma."

"Thank you," He sips and feels better instantly. "You know so much about me, yet I have no information on any of you."

"Sir, we are in need of your assistance." Vastra nods to Fiona and Odea. While they go to the small wall of doors Vastra continues to speak to Mr. Cowley, "You see while you were away some of your followers, devotees, apostles, er worshippers ..." She looks to Mr. Crowley for the most appealing definition.

"Worshippers."

"While you were away some of your worshippers," Vastra leads him to the wall of small doors, pulls out a human body on a slab and lifts the arm with the burned scar, "Are ending up dead."

Mr. Crowley huffs and attempts to storm out however the three police officers have been instructed differently. He rattles his cane to the nearest officer, "I shall not be penned in with these," He points to the women in the room and calms down looking at them, " these moral inferiors."

Vastra, Alaya, Fiona and Odea did not remove their smiles.

"Mr Crowley," Alaya attempts to console him as he feels like a caged mouse, "We need your assistance. Please."

"Who are you?"

"We are representatives of Scotland Yard and other Intelligence government divisions." Alaya attempts to his desire to serve his country, which has been declined without hesitation. "We need men to fight for England, if more men die our lines of defense will surely suffer."

The group watches Mr. Crowley's face calms, "Show me the bodies."

As Odea pulls out each body he shakes his head no.

Vastra step points to the symbol, "These are brandings, a marking you leave on cattle so as to identify the owner. Are these not the the symbol of Thelema?"

Yes I have the same markings," as he displays his forearm. "It is the Unicursal Hexagram, one of the important symbols in Thelema,"

"Which you founded?"

Mr. Crowley viciously shakes his head no, "I serve as its prophet, not the founder."

"Mr. Aleister Crowley, I respect your devotion to your position as prophet. However since you are the prophet, the figurehead, we seek your cooperation."

"I do not know any of these men. How can I cooperate if there is no information to offer."

"They all have died with similar health issues." Fiona handed Odea a clipboard. Odea reads to Mr. Crowley, "Fluid in the lungs, dehydration, signs of slow blood flow and it seems starvation."

Vastra looks into his tired eyes, "Mr. Crowley, I beg of you. Help us to stop another death."

He looks at the young male Cadaver Odea purposefully left out of the chamber.

"We did find cat hair on two bodies' clothing," Odea mentions looking over the notes.

Alaya stood a fraction taller, only the keen eye of her family would have noticed.

"Are cats important to Thelema? I did not read anything particular of your Libri concerning felines."

Mr. Crowley becomes excited, "You have read my book?"

"Once we have been assigned to these cases and found the brandings of Thelema I needed to do my research."

"What do you think?" Mr. Crowley prepares himself for the praise.

"It is quite fascinating. I understand you were inspired by your visit to Cairo, Egypt."

"Inspired! I was not inspired."

Alaya attempts to apologize but is instantly cut off by Mr. Crowley.

"Inspired? I had the honor of communication of Aiwass, a being I can only describe as an intelligence who dictated to me The Book of the Law, a sacred text, that free mankind of the chains of obligation." With dramatic gesture he raised his voice and spoke to the ceiling, "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law." He turns to the audience of the room, "You should seek out and follow their own true path in life."

The room is silent.

"Egyptians are quite fond of cats, or as they called them miu." Alaya ignores Mr. Crowley's facial expression as if a spoiled child did not get the attention they feel they deserve. "Actually were considered sacred." Alaya chuckles, "Can you believe that? Cats sacred.?"

The others in the room accompanied Alaya with a quick laugh, as they were previously instructed to support her reactions, muted but mimicked.

Mr. Crowley is turning red and coughs.

"Now on the East End cat meat is a staple of the poor."

"The felinine is a powerful creature and eating of its flesh ... their soul shall wander the earth empty without understanding."

"Poppycock." Alaya pushes Mr. Crowley a bit further, "A cat is nothing more than companionship for a widow or a young child. However ;if the destitute find nuritionment and sustenance while feasting on such felines who am I to counsel morality." She pretends to contemplate the struggle of eating a neighbor's cat, "I suppose a filled stomach could be a religious experience."

"You ignorant woman!"

"Because I find eating an animal which consume rats and mice a sign of desperation?"

"You fool. Did you know as a revered animal and one important to Egyptian society and religion, some cats received the same mummification after death as humans. 48 years ago an Egyptian farmer uncovered a large tomb with eighty thousand mummified cats and kittens." Mr. Crowley wants to put Alaya in her place, "These sacred cats were under the guardianship of the pharaoh with penalties for harming cats, even accidentally, was punishable by death."

"Mr. Crowley that is nothing more than superstition of ancient gods and princes. Cats today are essential to many diets around the globe. There is culture and precedent. They are simply meat."

Mr. Crowley begins to pace, "No my child. They are more than mere meat. Cats are closely connected to a number of gods and goddesses. There is evidence that they were considered to be demi-gods. They are avenger of the gods, the judge of words, the president of the sovereign chiefs and the governor of the holy Circle; no they are indeed great."

"You said partaking of the feline could pass powers to humans, would it be so bad?"

"Sacrificing cat and drinking its blood would bring the burden to the individual. Magick without leadership is nothing more than a sensation." He looks at Alaya, "Are you saying they partook of cat and ... " He points to the dead, "This is the result."

"No, they didn't die from eating of cat." Alaya looks at their notes again, playing along. "Our researchers can't find a thing. It is almost as if they were cursed."

"Cursed?" He is feeling pressure, "Do you believe I cursed them?"

A knock on the door. Fiona opens the door, "Inspector Clark, we were not expecting you."

"I did not want to bother your own investigations," He hands her a piece of paper. "I expect you to respect mine."

Fiona unfolds and whispers to her friend, "We are so close."

He stares at Mr. Crowley and whispers, "He has friends is higher places, if I looked up I would not even see the bottom of their soles."

"We have five young collegiate men, dead ..." Fiona face becomes flushed with anger.

Alaya and Vastra know that face.

Alaya whispers, "Poor Inspector."

The air sounds like rain as Alaya, Odea and Vastra's scales clamp down.

Fiona opens her mouth to continue but is quickly interrupted by Inspector Clark, "Doctor. This is beyond either of us." He walks past Fiona, the police officers and grabs Mr. Crowley by the elbow, "Mr. Edward Alexander Crowley I am to take you home immediately."

"I am Mr. Aleister Crowley."

"If you are Mr. Aleister Crowley, I shall leave you here in the hands of these four professional who do their job well and will turn over every single log to find the insect that is connected to the death of these men. Or, " Inspector Clark lets go of Mr. Crowley's elbow and holds up a piece of paper. "My order to release a Mr. Edward Alexander Crowley. If you are not him, I shall leave you here to fend for yourself against that Doctor," He points to Fiona, "Who makes my hairs stand on end whenever I find myself on the wrong side of a debate on how to butter my bread."

"I was born Edward Alexander Crowley and my professional name is Aleister Crowley. I am the great ..." Mr. Crowley begins to site all his greatest of achievements.

"I do not want to hear you boast of your lengthy Curriculum Vitæ. I am legally bound to take you home."

Mr. Crowley shuts his mouth and allows the Inspector to lead the way.

"I am sorry." Inspector looks to Vastra's team. "Truly."

The police officers follow.

The morgue door clicks shut and Fiona hands the letter to Alaya, "He is an evil man."

"No mention within our reports may contain mentions or initial of Edward Alexander Crowley, Aleister Crowley, Thelema, branding, symbols or marks found on any of the bodies." Alaya reads outloud to the team, "This case is closed and the bodies are to be considered dead by natural causes."

"Natural causes!" Odea looks over her sister's shoulder. "These men are too young to die from natural causes. There is a high level of suxamethonium. We wouldn't have found it unless we did a toxic report. That is not natural causes."

Alaya shows the piece of paper to Odea, "Weak hearts."

Vastra stands tall, "We stand on the side of right and reason, there are always powerful people who work against progress and justice." She looks to her team, "We lost today."

"What do we do?" Odea asks looking to her Grandma for direction.

Vastra shrugs, "At times like these we do what is asked."

Odea nods, pushes the cadaver back in and closes the chamber door. She grabs the paperwork, sits at her desk and types up the reports. With each key Odea slams down letting her aggression out.

The four work up their way up the stairs as giggles can be hear from the residential floor.

Fiona dashes up.

"April! Kay!" Fiona grabs her two girls with all her might and notices Edward J Cohen and embraces him without permission "Mr. Cohen it is good to see you."

Edward J Cohen nods back in return.

Fiona grabs the girl's hands and pulls her to the sofa, "Thank you so much for your letters. Tell me, you mention all the things you are achieving but you leave out any emotions. I worry this is too much for our London girls."

"Don't mind them," Mr. Cohen smiles as he readjusts himself on the chaise. "Those two have it all in hand. Although in a month or sooner farmhands will off to war."

"So soon?"

"Why recruit their own? I don't mean to be so callous but governments from their initial formation have always built their army on those who they value as expendable." Mr Cohen gathers himself, "I am sorry. I don't mean to be so grim. I have a secretary post in India. The only military conflict I shall see will be limited to my reading and comprehension."

Alaya comes to sit next to her family, "India is not immune."

"No but you see," Mr. Cohen becomes quiet and leans forward. "I am not one of those patriots that are willing to take a life, no matter the reason."

"Then I am sadden you will live at Low Brorrowbridge."

"Mother!" Alaya stands quickly, "Not everyone is willing fight. But he is taking a position."

Vastra sits in her high back chair, opens the newspaper and speaks to the financial section "I heard. Secretary."

"He is our friend."

"Is he?" Vastra slams down the newspaper on her lap. "Mr. Cohen knows fully well how dangerous this world is becoming." She looks into his eyes, "War requires us to do things we normally would not face." She points to the newspaper, "This evil man believes the Aryan race is superior and all others are considered inhuman and thus unworthy of life."

"You see I believe all life, even a German one is not worthy of a bullet."

"I see." Vastra leans towards Mr. Cohen, "Please allow me to play the devil's advocate."

"Of course." Mr. Cohen shifts in his seat, "I am ready and I shall respond honestly."

"What if your sister was on the SS Athenia?"

Vastra is pleased to see Mr. Cohen truly pondering her words. She watches as he lets the thoughts bubble through his brain and infect his blood. She is instantly transported back to the morgue of those five men killed for a simple ritual, 'we almost had him'.

Mr. Cohen's voice beckons her home, "I believe that I would have mourned terribly as my other half, my companion is no longer with me. I should seek solitude and bury myself in a fantasy of books." He looks into Vastra's with his own soul, "I shall be lonely and broken. No anger, sense of vengeance, nor will it spark a sense of patriotic angst. I will continue my life as if I had one lung, one kidney and half a heart." He sits back and almost exhausted himself thinking of such a loss.

Vastra opens paper and returns to the financial section, "Mr. Cohen I do believe you will make a very passionate and successful secretary. No military personnel should ever hand you a pistol, unless it is for hunting pheasant or whatever fowl you shoot from a standing position."

Mr. Cohen is doing his best to remove his mourning thoughts of his sister that is alive and well. "My dear sister is exhausted, well truthfully the two are a bit out of sorts."

April, Kay and Edward begin to discuss all they have found out while visiting Molly and Jennifer.

"We have to figure out a solution," Alaya lays out a map of Milton Keynes. "How far must they travel to work?"

"Thirty minutes," Edwards points to the mansion.

April points to the business and residence.

"Thirty minutes is not far to walk, surely." Vastra remarks from behind the newspaper.

"Oi!" Jenny comments to the open newspaper in front of Vastra's face. "If you are going to hide behind that newspaper do so, but keep your thoughts to yourself. It is rude."

The newspaper folds onto Vastra's lap, "For your information I was checking the radio schedules. Before you go off on a tangent to remind me how rude I am." Vastra looks the small group, "I am very sorry. I appreciate you all being here, the house is empty. The family isn't complete and I miss everyone."

Everyone except Mr. Edward Cohen understood, Vastra has been taking in the scent of April and Kay. Vastra was being considerate using the newspaper as curtain to her hide her Silurian tongue grasping the air for any taste of family.

Kay decides to take this pause in the conversation, "Before I say anything, everyone is healthy and interact. However, I do believe there might be an issue up at Cove Harbour."

Vastra places the newspaper down, holds her wife's hand.

Without hesitation, "It seems your Lytha has devoted herself to Miss Charlene Dithers."

"What do you mean devoted?" Jenny lets go of Vastra's hand realizing she didn't need the physical or emotional support. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since the moment they moved into the cottage."

"It could be just simply finding security in a mother figure."

"I will tell you what I told Miss Dithers; I was younger when my heart skipped a beat for my Kay." April smiles, "She will learn to control her emotions but fight feelings until she can naturally let go."

Fiona looks to Jenny asking the room's air, "Will she suffer like our Jennifer did?"

"Jennifer and Lytha are different personalities." Vastra regains her wife's hand, "We will be here for her in anyway we are able."

Olga walks into the room with a set of papers and hands them to Fiona. "These are the winter crop reports you asked."

Everyone gathers around the table, even Mr. Cohen due his management of the farm and Olga who dutifully sits next to Fiona making notes.

Catherine walks in with a tray of tea and treats. She takes her seat at the half empty table, "We going to pick crops for winter?"

Vastra quickly responds, "Is there something you particularly would like us to plant?"

"With these rations vodka with taxed heavily." She looks at the table with puppy dogs eyes, "I ask for so little."

"Do not start with those eyes," Ada and Odea walk in and without hesitation take two seats at the table. "My Grandma has a way with those eyes."

"Is it working?" Olga asks while rapidly blinking.

"What is that you are lacking that you must stoop to such levels of pandering?"

Catherine smiles, "With the rations and taxes I would like to make my own vodka." She immediately begins to tell her daughter the ingredients she would like to reap in the next harvest, "Potatoes and barley, please put those on the list."

Jenny looks at Vastra for support, "I don't know if we want spirit making part of our routine."

"Vodka is not just for drink. There are man uses besides the two obvious sanitizer and Disinfectant."

"Da, what the doctor says!" Catherine smiles as she points to Odea, "She knows, I know."

Odea smiles, "Besides if Catherine's vodka skills is on par with her cooking skills I wouldn't hesitating a drink or two."

Olga waits to see if there is any objection then without hesitation she writes them both down. Afterwards she looks up to see her Mother smiling, a smile she has not seen for a very long time.

August 1935
Моло́га, Soviet Union

"We have friends here."

"For how long?"

"I have been promised a position with the Ры́бинская ГЭС."

"That is good for you, what about me? This пекарня is all I have, and they dare put it under water."

"We don't have to go far, you will come with me. I will take care of you."

Olga and Catherine debating.

"No this is where my husband, your husband, is buried."

"With the worms and it is not the same Russia"

"Things always change."

"Mother. We must go- they are flooding the towns, have you heard."

"Gossip. All it is gossip."

"You know of the contents of the caves Ivan found."

"It is gossip."

"I know gossip and gossip is fun. Nobody floods because of a gossip."

Catherine becomes quiet, "What do you suggest. I don't want to stay in Russia. They are drowning my town, my пекарня, my August, my Peter." She shakes her head in anger. "You are right. Something is wrong, we must leave."

"Then you come with me to Ры́бинская ГЭС." Olga smiles at winning the debate for the first time in a very long time. The first time was when she married Ivan.

Catherine lays on the table opened letters, "We go to England."

Olga snaps out of the memory and quickly writes down the various vegetables shouted out.