A Righteous Man

With a clean heart and a resolute mind, Brother Nathaniel Skinner stepped up to the pulpit.

The Brotherhood of the First Gensokyo Baptist Fellowship met in a small, plain room in the back of Nathaniel's house. With only six pews facing a small raised platform and a small wooden crucifix adorned with a wreath of ivy hanging from the wall, it was certainly a humble sanctuary for the few faithful of Gensokyo, which, all told, numbered only twenty-four.

Six of them, specifically Nathaniel himself, Andrew Shuemaker, Betsy Caulfield, Bobby Forester, Dorothy Forester, and Eddie Orozco, were from that fateful bus ride that had first stolen him away from their home, the others having either left the Human Village, perished, or wanting nothing to do with them. The rest were native Gensokyians, local Japs that had been wise enough to see their home country for the cesspool of spiritual disease that it was. When Nathaniel had first been stranded here, he had been convinced that none of the locals were even capable of salvation, that their families had been wallowing in sinful practices and demonic energies for so long that their hearts would be repulsed by the mere idea of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

In this, he had been proven wrong, and for which he was thankful. As Joshua Stump, the man who had once been his brother, had demonstrated, Nathaniel could trust not even good American Christians to properly keep the faith. And in was good to know that even in the Devil's own country, the Light of God could still shine through.

Nathaniel took a deep breath, and then said, "My brothers and sisters, we are the Chosen Few."

"We are the Chosen Few," his congregation parroted back at him.

"We are the Light in the Darkness."

"We are the Light in the Darkness."

"We are the Army of Christ."

"We are the Army of Christ. Amen."

Nathaniel bowed his head in silence. Then he threw it back and called to the Heavens. "Oh Lord, have mercy upon me, a sinner! And thank You for reminding me of our true mission, which, in my zealousness to stand fast against the wiles of Satan, I had forgotten!"

The previous night…

At last.

I can feel it. Even in my place of imprisonment, even in my place of torment, I can feel it.

Can you feel it, my little lost servant? Can you hear them, my wandering prodigal? Though you have closed your heart and mind to me, you cannot hide forever. You carry a piece of me with you, and He will not take it from you.

For even in your rebellion, I have found others, I have chosen others. And you will help them. Even if you continue to resist my call, you will do this. You will seek out the children, and guide them into my darkness.

You will do this.

I have commanded it.

Nathaniel Skinner woke up in a cold sweat.

He was in the dark, still in the cold black, and he couldn't move. The chains held him still, keeping him prisoner, damned for all time for his sins, his sins of…

…of…

Nathaniel blinked. No, wait, the darkness was impenetrable. Above him he could see…the roof. The roof of his house. He wasn't in the cold, black pit, he was at home, in bed.

As for his restraints, his nocturnal thrashings had simply rolled the covers into a tight cocoon. Again.

Nathaniel hastily loosed the covers and tossed them off. Now lying naked on sweat-soaked sheets, he slowly breathed out and closed his eyes. The dreams were happening again. The visions once more called to him, all the way from the place of damnation. And his hand…

He flexed the fingers of his right hand, or at least gave the command to. But nothing happened. His brain registered no response.

Nathaniel's head fell to the right. In the dark, he could see the silhouette of his right arm stretching out across the bed, his fingers curled into a fist. He relaxed them, letting them fall open, and again squeezed them tight.

Though he saw his hand obeying his every instruction, he still felt nothing.

His left hand swept across his body to slam into his right palm. Nothing. Sitting up, he struck again and again, pounding the cold hand. When that didn't work, he shoved it into his mouth and bit down, trying to evoke some kind of feeling, some kind of pain.

He still felt nothing.

And then it happened.

Nathaniel.

Nathaniel Skinner froze. No. No, no, no. Not again.

Give in.

Not now, now again! He had shut the Dark Voice down years ago! For nearly two years after the incident he had resisted its whispers, blocking them from his mind, until they had finally ceased! He had kept careful control, making sure to never allow it to once again awake, making sure that his corrupted hand was well cared for!

But now it was back. The Dark Voice was back.

Give in.

It never said much more than that. Just his name, and the call to give in, to surrender his will. He needn't ask what it wanted him to give in to. It wanted him to stop fighting, to let it claim his body as its vessel. It had gotten a small piece of itself inside of him, but it needed his consent to pour in the rest, consent he had always refused to give.

Give in.

Trembling, Nathaniel lay back. There was no doubt about it. It was happening again. Fortunately, this time he knew who to blame.

Then, as he lay there in the dark, thoughts racing and heart pounding, he was startled by a loud and sudden sound.

Knocking.

Someone was knocking at his front door.

Mai didn't awake to the knocking. Making a mental note to have her chastised, Nathaniel rose from his bed and hastily dressed himself. Doing so without washing himself made him feel disgusting, but it was only a temporary thing.

The knocking continued. There was no time to bathe his hand, so Skinner had to wrap it up as is. Again he felt nothing, which made his insides squirm. The pain after thoroughly cleaning his diseased hand in hot water might bring tears to his eyes, but it was preferable to the cold nothing he felt now.

Finally he was at least presentable. Nathaniel left his room to confront whoever it was that was foolish enough to wake him at this hour.

Mai was finally up and just reaching the door, which irked him. In the time it had taken him to dress himself, she ought to have already answered, seen who it was, and be on her way to rouse him.

"Move," he said hoarsely.

She drew back in surprise. "Master Skinner! Forgive me, I-"

"I said move!" He shouldered his way past her and slid the front door open.

Standing outside were several members of his fellowship, specifically Seiya Kirisame, his son Rito Kirisame, Andrew Shuemaker, Bobby Forester, and Satoshi Yuuki. That wasn't good. The five of them had been sent to deliver Gendou's message to the orphanage, so having them come to him meant that something had gone horribly wrong.

As soon as Brother Seiya saw that it was him that had answered the door instead of Mai, his sweaty face went pale. "B-Brother Nathaniel!" He bowed his head. "Apologies for disturbing you at this hour, but-"

"Brother Seiya," Nathaniel said icily. "Well, yes. Apologies would be in order. I hope this is important."

"It is! We were just at the orphanage, and-"

Nathaniel felt blood rush to his head, and it took a considerable amount of will not to backhand Seiya across the face. "Stop!" he hissed.

Seiya stiffened, but he obeyed.

Control, control. Think about this. Nathaniel closed his eyes and mentally pushed back against the geyser of rage he felt rising. Jesus, grant me Your strength. He was already sweaty from his rude awakening, and this was causing fresh beads to start trickling down his forehead.

"The orphanage," he said. "You were at the orphanage?"

"Yes!"

"Doing what?"

"I…" Seiya looked utterly gobsmacked. "Delivering the message, of course! From the Leader!"

"The Leader," Nathaniel repeated. "You mean, you were sent by Master Gendou Sonozika?"

The five of them stared blankly at him. Why? they were wondering. Why would they ask something that he already knew the answer to? After all, Nathaniel had been in the room when Gendou had sent them off. He had relayed part of their instructions, after all.

But there was a reason why they had been given their instructions in private! As such, now that something had apparently gone wrong, Nathaniel wasn't happy about them banging on his front door in the dead of night for everything to see.

"Y-Yes," Seiya said after a bit.

"Then why come to me?" Nathaniel said. "If something went wrong, shouldn't you be taking this information to Master Sonozika?"

"I…" Seiya continued to gawk, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish.

Then Rito, ever the pragmatist, nudged Seiya from behind. "Of course, Brother Nathaniel," he said smoothly. "We will go report to the Leader at once. Our apologies for disturbing you with a matter that is none of your business."

Nathaniel relaxed a bit. Rito had again proven himself smarter than his elder. Nathaniel really ought to start entrusting him instead of his idiotic father with errands of a sensitive nature.

"Not at all," Nathaniel said. He made a point to give a long and obvious look toward the nearby back alley. "I apologize if I have been short with you. God go with you, gentlemen. And good night."

He shut the door and waited until he heard the group's footsteps recede. When he was sure that their trajectory was taking them the right way, he hurried through his house, toward the side door.

There were two ways to get to the Sonozika estate from Nathaniel's house. The first was to take the long way through the main streets, which would take you all the way around the block, while the second was to cut straight across the alley between Nathaniel's house and his neighbor's. And from the sound of things, they were heading for the alley.

He waited by the side door, listening as their footsteps drew near. When they were loud enough, he swiftly opened the door, reached out with his left hand to seize Seiya by the lapels of his robe, and yanked him inside before the man could cry out in surprise.

"Go home, gentlemen. Go home and speak of any of this to no one," Nathaniel said briskly to the other four and shut the door.

Seiya was reflexively struggling, so Nathaniel shoved his left hand over the squat man's mouth, leaned over so that they were face-to-face, and whispered, "Do not cry out. Speak only in whispers. Do you understand?"

His eyes wide with fear, Seiya nodded.

"Good."

That done, Nathaniel all but dragged Seiya to a small side-room where he knew they would have some measure of privacy. Tossing Seiya in with one hand, Nathaniel stepped inside and slammed the door shut.

"What is wrong with you?" Nathaniel hissed. "Banging on my door in the dead of the night and babbling like an idiot. Everyone could hear you!"

Seiya was not a brave man. He reminded Nathaniel of Gendou in that way, someone full of bluster and indignation that would crumble at the slightest pushback.

"Forgive me!" Seiya blubbered. "I didn't mean-"

Nathaniel gripped Seiya's cheeks with one hand, his right hand. "Stop. Quiet down." He squeezed ever so slightly. "And tell me what happened. Slowly."

He released the squat man's face. Seiya stumbled back, clutching at his jowls. "I…I…"

"Now," Nathaniel said.

The fear in Seiya's eyes was apparent. He lowered his hand, and when he did, Nathaniel frowned. Was it his imagination, or was there a pair of faint black spots, one on each of his cheeks, where Nathaniel's fingers had dug into the flesh?

"We went…" Seiya swallowed. "We went to the orphanage. The others, and I, like we were instructed! To deliver Master Sonozika's message, about how they were no longer welcome at-"

"I remember," Nathaniel said.

"Right! But when we got there, they were all outside. The children, their guardians, all of them!"

"And?"

"And…they were having a funeral!"

"A funeral," Nathaniel repeated. "Whose?"

"One of the children. One of the orphans had died."

"So what?"

"No, you don't understand! She didn't just get sick or fall off the roof! She had been killed! By youkai!"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Tragic. But why does that have you so upset? They live in a dangerous place. Distant relation, perhaps?"

Seiya shook his head. "No. It was-" He cut himself off, and fearfully looked around at the dimly lit room, as if spies were lurking in the shadows.

"It was whom?" Nathaniel prodded.

"It was the spiders!" Seiya said in a hissing whisper. "The same ones! They apparently attacked the house, took several of the children, and killed one before the others were rescued!"

"The spid…" Nathaniel's blood ran as cold as his right hand. He finally understood, and the realization clenched the muscles in his chest, leaving him short of breath.

"Yes!" Seiya said with a frenzied nod.

Choosing his words carefully, Nathaniel lowered his own voice and said, "The same ones?"

"Yes!"

"How? I mean, why? They had clear instructions!"

"I don't know!" Seiya said, somehow managing to both wail and whisper at the same time. "But they did!"

Nathaniel gritted his teeth. "They attacked early then."

"Yes! Far too early!"

The icy cold fear that swam through Nathaniel's veins was starting to thaw, as his rising anger began to bring things to a boil. "They accepted the job. They took our money."

"Yes! Absolutely! And we were perfectly clear our demands!"

"We told them when to move," Nathaniel muttered, his hands curling into fists. "We told them how, and against who. We even paved the way for them, and they ignored it all!"

Nathaniel felt the furnace in his heart grow hotter and hotter, blurring his vision with steam and causing the room to tilt. It was like standing on the deck of a ship in a turbulent sea, with everything swaying this way and that.

Damn them. Damn those wretched youkai! So little had been asked of them! All he had requested is that they act according to their godless nature, but save it for the appropriate time and against the appropriate person, but they couldn't even manage that!

The smoke covering his eyes cleared just enough to frame Seiya's face. The other man was nodding vigorously and making noises of agreement, as if he and Nathaniel were equal victims. How wrong he was. Seiya had been the go-between. Seiya had been the one to enter the Youkai Forest and beseech the spider clan to take their contract. He had been the one to explain the details.

He had to have fouled things up. Maybe he hadn't explained things correctly. Maybe, in his squealing, cowardly manner, he had forgotten the important parts. Something had gone wrong, and in such cases, the messenger must be blamed.

Despite most of the room being rendered in cloudy shapes, Seiya's fleshy neck was crystal clear, every fold standing out in stark relief. Nathaniel stared at it, wondering how it would feel with his hand clenched around it, his fingers digging through fat and flesh to close around the windpipe.

Give in.

It would be so easy. Just a small squeeze, and it would crumple like paper, and Nathaniel wouldn't have to suffer Seiya Kirisame's squeaking any longer. He thought of those black smudges his fingers had left on Seiya's cheeks. He imagined Seiya's entire neck covered with black, withering the fat and sinking in deep to smother him.

Give in.

("Nathan, are you feeling angry again?")

Nathaniel started a bit. He was used to the Dark Voice, whispering to him from the back of his head, urging him toward violence. But that gentle, admonishing tone came from someplace else, someplace buried…deep…

(Church was over. The sermon had finished, the final hymn sang, and the concluding prayer sent up to God. Now everyone was milling about, some leaving immediately, others helping clean up, others standing around and talking. Fellowship, Reverend DuBois called it.

Not Nathaniel Skinner, though. Nobody ever talked to him. Some would try, but they would soon find reason to excuse themselves. Nathaniel knew why. He held himself to higher standards than anyone else, standards that few were strong enough to attempt.

And that was the problem.

He was standing by himself, his sky-blue eyes staring with hawklike intensity across the room. There, the Hendersons were leaving, replacing the hymnals and gathering their things.

The Hendersons were…decent, he supposed, but were weak at heart, and that was demonstrated by their sorry excuse for a son. The boy was fourteen, and completely without respect. He had been slouching all service, not joining in the singing of the hymns, not paying attention to the sermon, not even bothering to close his eyes and bow his head during prayer. He had just slouched their the whole time, legs propped up on the back of the pew in front of him, beady little eyes sullen.

How dare he?

But as he had stood there glowering, someone had sidled up to him, one of the few members of the congregation that still spoke to him. It was Joshua Stump, the dark-skinned Jew, the former addict. At first all of those had repulsed Nathaniel, like someone might be repulsed by an odious stench. But there was something about Joshua that led Nathaniel to at first tolerate, and eventually kind of appreciate. Joshua saw the good in people, and as misguided as he could be at times, it was an admirable trait.

And he somehow always knew when Nathaniel's heart and mind were starting to boil over, when the screaming was about ready to start.

"Nathan," Joshua repeated. "You're getting angry, aren't you?"

Nathaniel didn't respond. He just continued to stare.

Joshua laid a hand on Nathaniel's arm. "Don't do it, Nathan. Don't.")

"Brother Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel looked down. Seiya had laid a hand on his forearm. Even through the sleeve and the bandage, his fingers felt like hot iron.

"Do not touch me!" Nathaniel cried as he wrenched his arm away.

Seiya recoiled. "I'm sorry, I-"

Shaking with barely restrained rage, Nathaniel leaned over so that he was nearly nose-to-nose with the smaller man. "Do not ever, ever lay hands on me again. Ever. Understand?"

"Yes, Brother Nathaniel! Forgive me!"

"Get out."

Seiya opened his mouth, maybe to argue, but he saw the look in Nathaniel's eyes, and quickly hurried away. Nathaniel was about to let him, but then some small part of rationality surfaced.

"Wait."

Seiya froze by the door.

"The spiders. Did they say what happened to the spiders?"

Gulping, Seiya turned back toward him and said, "J-Just that they killed them."

Nathaniel stared. "Killed them. People kill youkai all the time. It doesn't stick."

"That's all that they said! That they, uh, dealt with the with extreme prejudice!"

The wheels in Nathaniel's head started turning. When that happened, the cloud of rage started to get pumped out, and the channels of his brain were cleared. If they had simply exterminated the spiders when they found them and ran off with the children, then that might be a problem. The spiders would simply return, hungry for revenge, and would go rogue. And the longer they were in contention with the orphanage, the morel likely that secrets would spill.

On the other hand, it was entirely possible that they had been dealt with permanently. That wouldn't be so bad. The fewer loose ends lying around, the better, and the world was better off without them anyway. Though it was unlikely that those heathens actually had the means to permanently destroy a youkai on hand. The methods capable of pulling that off were both rare and difficult to pull off.

(It was the dead of night, with the moon shining brightly overhead. Nathaniel stood in knee-high grass, staring off at the hills. Though he couldn't see it where he was, just beyond that hill was fence that encompassed the orphanage grounds.

He breathed in and out. It was time.

Opening the heavy book in his hand, he flipped to the tagged page, the one that detailed the ritual necessary to pull off the overload spell. The steps were both complicated and precise, which is why he had practiced them over and over until he had gotten them right.

It had taken time, but he felt that he finally got the spell down. He just needed the proper regents in order to do it for real.

He now had them.

One was a weatherworn paper charm, plucked right off a fence post. It was designed to repel youkai and their various supernatural cousins, so he had been able to walk right up to the fence and take it off without anyone noticing.

The second was sitting on a nearby flat stone.

There were five of them, three fairies and two youkai. They had been all tied together in a circle, back-to-back, their arms bound behind their backs, their legs roped together, and their mouths gagged, their terrified eyes staring at him with mute pleas.

They were right to be afraid.

It frankly galled Nathaniel to have to resort to such blasphemous means, to consort with the same magic he was working to destroy. But the Lord did often employ imperfect instruments. He had delivered his warning to King Saul through the witch of Endor, hadn't he? This was no different.

Though he read the words, he was already mumbling them out loud, reciting them from memory. As he did so, he turned toward his bound captives. Though they were already struggling and whimpering, they froze when they saw the silver blade he drew from its pouch, the blade and the runes inscribed on the hilt. They knew what it was for.

Yes. It was time.)

But it was unlikely that they had anything like that at their disposal, much less anything that could be used in something as chaotic as a fight.

Then there was the worst-case scenario, that before eliminating those wretched bugs, they had time to question them, to interrogate them. Nathaniel had been careful to not personally involve himself with any dealings, but there was always a trail.

Then Nathaniel was struck by a thought. "Who told you this?" he said. "Was it Satoko Yume?"

Seiya inhaled sharply. "Oh, that's right! I mean, no. No, it wasn't. It was that woman, the one who insulted both you and Master Sonozika!"

"That woman? You mean, the cook?"

"Yes! She threatened us too. And she…she…" Seiya pressed a trembling hand to his forehead. "She breathed fire at us! Just…spat it at our feet!"

"Breathed…fire?" Nathaniel said skeptically. "You mean, like that trick where you inhale a torch, and…"

"No! She just opened her mouth and a jet of flame came out! I almost had my toes burned off!"

Now that was interesting. "Tell me: given how everyone here seems to have some kind of…occultic ability or another, is the ability to breathe forth flames something that's known to happen?"

"I…guess?" Seiya shrugged. "I mean, my cousin can spit sugar. But I can't say I ever heard of anyone able to do something like this."

Hmmm.

Nathaniel inhaled deeply and exhaled. "Brother Seiya, I have been unduly harsh to you. That was unchristianlike of me. I apologize."

Seiya blinked in surprise. "Ah, oh, um, not at all! I understand. But what are we going to do?"

"Give me time to think," Nathaniel said as he slid the door open for Seiya. "But whatever it is, we must act quickly. Tell no one of this."

"Of course," Seiya said. "Of course."

Nathaniel stood still and listened as the man departed. Seiya's footsteps were fast and heavy, thumping loudly through the house until he had rushed out the side door, slamming it as he left.

Even after the man was gone, Nathaniel continued to stand as still as a statue, eyes staring at the far wall.

Think. He had to think. Now was not to time to lose control. Now was the time to keep and clear mind and approach things rationally.

"Lord Jesus, grant me your wisdom," he whispered. "Give me your strength. Help me see through the lies of the enemy."

Unfortunately, if Jesus had an audible answer for him, he couldn't hear it, because another voice was already speaking, drowning any other messages out.

Give in.

"It is far too easy, I believe," Nathaniel continued, "in our battle against the wiles of the Devil, to forget why we fight. Just as our Lord Christ was not sent to this world to condemn it, but to save it, we too our sent into the world not leave the wicked and sinful to wallow in their own corruption, but to try to lift them out, to bring them to the Light."

He looked around the room, at all the rapt gazes. Some were nodding in agreement, others had their eyes closed in prayer, others seemed a little confused. After all, this sort of altruism wasn't the norm for one of Nathaniel's sermons. That was all right though. Nathaniel had something of a gift for persuading others to see his point of view.

"We all know that Gensokyo is a wicked country," he said. "Unlike the Outside World, where devils hide in the shadows and work their evil through subtle means, here they walk openly without fear, and we Humans, who were made in God's own image, have little defense against their wiles. And those who have forsaken the fellowship of their fellow Humans to dwell out among the devils often become little better than devils themselves. The Lord commands us to set ourselves apart from those who have invited sin into their hearts, lest we become corrupted as well."

At this, there were more nods, but also more frowns. That was also to be expected. Even though they had been shown the light, the truth still stung.

"But just as we have been commanded to set ourselves apart, we are also called upon to be a Light in the Darkness, to try to draw those who might want to escape damnation and cleanse themselves.

"I speak, of course, of that dwelling place of sin that calls itself the Aoki Yume's Children's Home! It is they that gather the fatherless children of those families who have suffered the rightful consequences of their impiety. It is they that, rather than leading those little lost lambs onto the path of righteousness, instead drive them further toward the arms of Satan."

"Now, in the past I have counseled that if they are going to close their hearts and minds to the Gospel of Jesus, than we ought to close ourselves to them as well, to keep them from corrupting those who might seek the Lord's salvation. But today the Lord spoke to me, chastising me for my lack of compassion. After all, though those who run that place are surely damned for their blasphemies, is it not our responsibility to reach out to those poor children, to show them another way?"

"Earlier this week, a group of youkai from the Youkai Forest attacked the orphanage. And one of the children was killed."

Early the next morning, Nathaniel Skinner left his house.

Unlike the night before, he was now rested, bathed, and fully clothed. His hat was straight, his coat unwrinkled, his hands tightly bound and gloved, and not a whisker was out of place.

As he walked, he took note of how the people he passed reacted to them. Some of them, those loyal to humanity and recognized that same loyalty in him, smiled and greeted him warmly. Those of lesser resolve merely politely bowed their heads in passing. Others didn't acknowledge him at all, and a few even turned their heads away in disgust.

That was to be expected. Those who stood stalwart in the light would of course repulse those who dwelt in darkness. But he wasn't interested in that. Rather, he was searching for some sign that any of them had noticed Seiya's idiocy the night before.

Ignoring the immediate reactions of those who passed him in the street, he instead focused on those further away, the ones close enough to see him but not enough to come in direct contact. Though he did not make any indication that he was looking at them, he still studied their faces through the thick, dark glass of his spectacles.

His lip twitched. They were shooting him sidelong glances. They were whispering to one another. Even through dark lenses, he could see the unease on their faces.

Idiot. Though it had served a diplomatic purpose, he was regretting apologizing to Seiya Kirisame. Now he was wishing he had thrown the loudmouthed fool through a wall.

Keeping his visage straight ahead, Nathaniel quickened his pace.

When he arrived at the Sonozika estate, the elderly serving man bowed respectfully. "Welcome, Master Skinner," he said. "You are expected. This way please."

As was often the case, Gendou Sonozika was a mess of anxieties. He was pacing back and forth, hands clasped behind his back, his forehead shiny with sweat.

"Ah, Brother Nathaniel!" he said, brightening as soon as Nathaniel entered the room. "Thank you for coming."

"Not at all," Nathaniel said. "I assume you've heard."

Gendou nodded. "Yes. A youkai attack. A dead child. Terrible business, just terrible."

"Horrible. Just goes to show the dangers of trusting youkai." Nathaniel sadly shook his head. "We tried to warn them, Gendou. We tried to warn them."

"You think that they were friends with these youkai then?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Have you found what I asked for?"

"Yes, yes! Come with me!"

Gendou led Nathaniel to the courtyard out back. The Sonozika resident was a large, U-shaped building, with a lively garden growing between the two arms. The two men went was at the end of one of the arms. There, a slanted door had been opened in the ground, with steps leading to a room beneath the house.

Gendou lit a lantern and handed it to Nathaniel. As Nathaniel peered down into the dark, his stomach twisted.

He didn't like to go down into dark places. He didn't like it at all.

"I went through all of my family's records," Gendou said, not noticing Nathaniel's discomfort. "And I arranged everything I could find into two piles. One for the Youkai Forest, and the other for…"

"The woman," Nathaniel said, keeping his unease from his voice. "Thank you."

Holding the lantern in one hand, Nathaniel descended into the dark.

Almost as if it were galvanized by the dark and the deep, the Dark Voice suddenly came to life. Give in, it told him, its tones sweet and seductive as always. Nathaniel. Give in.

Though it said little more than that, the meaning was clear. If Nathaniel were to let it in, to give it what it wanted, than all of the knowledge he desired would be his, with no need to sift through dusty old tomes in order to find it.

Nathaniel ignored it. He focused on the sound of the wooden steps creaking under his heavy boots. The more attention that he paid to the Dark Voice, the more power it had.

Unfortunately, though the message of the Dark Voice stayed the same, there were other voices, voice of his own weak, mortal soul, voices that longed to surrender to temptation.

You seek after lesser sorceries to meet your ends, telling yourself that they are a forgivable alternative to that power, they said. But there are no degrees of damnation, just as there are no degrees of salvation. You either are, or you are not.

Nathaniel reached the bottom. He held his lantern high, illuminating the wide space around him.

The floor was of rough stone, coated with dust. Square wooden pillars rose up, holding up the house above him. And everywhere was knowledge.

They came in scrolls and they came in books. There was even a small section of stone carvings. They sat in neat piles, lined up on shelves, and in boxes, some encased beneath ancient, dusty glass while others out in the open. The sum total of all Human knowledge in Gensokyo, both what the original settlers brought with them and what they had gained since. Any academic would gladly give an arm or commit an unforgiveable act of Gendou's choice just to spend half an hour among that treasure.

Naturally, Nathaniel had free range.

Though most of the knowledge he had gained disgusted him, he learned it anyway. In order to destroy an enemy, one must know them. Nathaniel Skinner was fighting a war against the forces of darkness that literally permeated the air of this godforsaken country, both the demonic forces that lurked out in the dark and the ones that dwelt within his heart.

As promised, two piles of texts were waiting for him at a low desk. Nathaniel sat down on his knees in the dirt, laid the lantern down, and went to work.

It being what it was, Gensokyo was less of a country where supernatural phenomena occurred and more of a wellspring of supernatural phenomena that occasionally had meager attempts at civilization spring up like patches of mold. Demonic activity was the rule rather than the exception, and there were large swath that mortals were content to leave well enough alone, making no move settle in and modernize.

The Youkai Forest was hardly the largest or most notorious of those places, but it was up there, and despite Gensokyo's small size, very little attempt had been made to delve into its secrets, even though the country had supposedly existed in its own little pocket of reality before even America had been civilized. Oh, there had been people who tried here and there, daring explorers who had gone in and even a few who had come out. And of course, there was that one family of pagan priestesses that seemed to consider themselves humanity's protectors from the dark forces despite serving those same forces.

As such, there were some recording and observations. There just wasn't very many of them, and what they did have mostly took the form of hearsay, theory, and conjecture. There was very little hard fact to be found.

What little did exist was the smaller of the two piles. Nathaniel thumbed through it, looking for anything that might be what he was looking for.

A rough census of the various youkai communities within the forest, one that was seventy years out of date? No. Something about a "pale white strider"? No. A meadow of sentient mushrooms that lured victims in with songs of sexual ecstasy before…wait, they ate their sexual organs? And nothing else? Why?

Shaking his head, Nathaniel put that one aside quickly. The bloodrattles? No. The Yamauba? No. The Throne of Bones?

Nathaniel paused. That one, at least, seemed to be near what he was looking for. He scanned the report only to scowl in disappointment. It was a description of a chair with a bunch of animal bones on it, one hypothesized to contain some ancient forest spirit. Certainly it seemed dark and evil, worthy of being burned away in Christ's cleansing light, just not the source of darkness and evil that he was looking for.

Give in.

And then, right when he was convinced that he had gone on a snipe hunt, he found it.

It wasn't much, just a small entry in some long-dead researcher's journal, but it matched the description.

Of all the myths and legends passed along by the local youkai, few are more perplexing than the talk of something that they called the Bone Grove. Those willing to speak to me are strangely hesitant to mention it, as if doing so will draw its attention. As those who have been willing to speak of me have always seemed to delight in spinning dark and bloody tales of the forest's dangers in hopes of scaring me, this struck me as very strange.

Nathaniel sat back on his haunches, hand stroking his beard as he thought. Well now, that sounded very familiar. Unfortunately, there was little else in there, just a mention of a rumor by someone who was long dead.

Regardless, I have not been able to even ascertain its location. I spoke to my friend Momo Tweeldewing, who has always been more forthcoming about the forest's secrets. Even she seemed scared to speak of it, and all she would tell me was that long ago, there had been a small village where both Human and youkai lived together in peace, until one day a ball of flame fell from the Heavens and destroyed the village when it hit, and since then no life has been permitted to exist there, and no one in their right mind would ever set foot in that place. She begged me to promise not to seek it out, saying that I would not be strong enough to come back out again.

Though I could get no more from her, I have to admit I am now even more fascinated by this fabled bone grove, as until now I have never heard of any kind of peaceful coexistence between both man and youkai within the forest's borders. If this story is true, then it could imply that this mysterious comet itself is responsible for the many dark energies that swirl through the Youkai Forest.

Despite his many thick layers of clothes, Nathaniel felt cold sweep through his whole body. He searched through the rest of the documents but could find no other mention of the bone grove. Part of him was glad for that. What little he had found told him that he was in greater danger than he had realized.

And there was still one more pile waiting for him.

Nathaniel cast a dour glance at the much larger stack of scrolls and ancient pieces of parchment. This one he honestly expected to be a waste of time. After all, what were the odds that the woman with the smart mouth working as the orphanage's cook was also the Sonozika family's ancestral enemy? It was far more likely that she had simply heard the name somewhere and used it to screw with Gendou's head. Lord knew the man was certainly…malleable.

Still, he had promised, so he reached for the first scroll and unrolled it.

Though this time there was an abundance of information and carefully recorded observations, Nathaniel wasn't really sure what he was supposed to make of it. According to what Gendou had told him and what he was reading, the Fujiwara family had been business rivals to the Sonozikas sometime before Gensokyo had even been created, which had later grown to being enemies of a more personal sort. There was mention of farm raids, assassinations, attempts to publicly humiliate, and other unscrupulous skullduggery one might expect from that kind of barbaric society. However, while there was plenty talk of Fujiwara no Fuhito and his sons, his single daughter only got a few passing mentions, and then only among familial lists. Apparently even the Fujiwaras' arch-enemies hadn't even considered her worthy of attention.

Right up until she was.

Of the "incident" in question, there was plenty, as the survivors had launched a full investigation once the flames had been put out. Apparently, one day a young woman claiming to be the estranged daughter of Fuhito had shown up at the Sonozika residence. She had called out the family patriarch, demanding that he face her personally to account for the murder of her brother and the many attempts to ruin her family. Predictably, she had been laughed at. And then…

Nathaniel arched an eyebrow.

And then an arrow had been sent through her heart. The culprit had been a bowman positioned on the estate's walls, one who had acted without instruction. Why the fool had done so, whether it be overzealousness or accident, wasn't recorded, as he hadn't survived to be questioned. What was known is that despite being seemingly killed on the spot, the woman had not stayed down. Instead, she had gotten right back up again, pulled the arrow right out of her chest, and…

It was there that the details got muddled. There were several firsthand accounts of what had happened, but few offered anything concrete. What was clear was that the woman had become some kind of demon, a fiery abomination that had taken to the air and rained down damnation on the entirety of the Sonozika estate. Gendou's ancestor had been cooked alive inside his own armor, as had all of his elder sons. His guards had either fled immediately or they perished as well. And seeing how much the Japs valued loyalty, the ones who fled probably had lost their lives as well, once everything that could be learned from them had been learned.

Nathaniel thumbed through the accounts, but there was little variety. Fire and fear, those were the common threads. Reports from later spoke of wanton destruction, indiscriminate and thorough. The estate had been destroyed, burned to cinders but not pillaged. The devil-woman had come to kill and destroy, nothing else.

That had proven to be her undoing, at least insofar as her revenge had been concerned. If she had taken the time to search out the smoldering remains of the estate she had destroyed, she might have found the caches of wealth that had gone untouched, papers and documents and deeds that had been stashed away in safe places, all things that had allowed the Sonozika family rise from the ashes and reestablish themselves. And had she bothered to pursue those who had fled the inferno instead of concentrating on those who were fighting back, she might have prevented the escape of the youngest of the Sonozika children, from whom Gendou was descended. Instead, she had focused on the old man himself, him and his grown sons.

Regardless, as far as revenge went, it had still seemed fairly successful. Four Sonozikas dead, the patriarch and all three of his immediate heirs. Most of the staff had survived, those who had fled anyway. And they all said the same thing. The woman had taken flight, and everything had burned.

As Nathaniel thumbed through the reports, he came across something interesting. It wasn't really a scroll, though it was wound like one. Rather, it was a silk tapestry, one that had been carefully preserved, though wasn't on display upstairs for obvious reasons.

It was an artist's rendition of that day, or at least as near as could be made.

It was done in that weirdly slanted style that the Japanese seemed to favor, with its broad strokes and flowing lines. Nathaniel had always found it kind of ugly, but regardless of the art style the scene it depicted would be hideous.

The lower half showed the courtyard of what had probably been considered a great house, though it probably had paled to even the most humble of homes in Philadelphia. There were several men wearing primitive armor lying on the ground, screaming in agony. And everything, including the men, was on fire.

The source of the flame was fairly evident. The upper half was taken up by the unholiest of abominations, a flaming demon that was half-woman and half-bird. It flew on great wings of flame, and gore dripped from the talons it had in place of hands and feet. Its beaklike mouth was open, and it was vomiting flame directly into the stomach of the man directly below her, whom was wearing green armor while everyone else wore blue. Gendou's long-murdered ancestor, no doubt.

Nathaniel thoughtfully stroked his beard as he studied the depiction of the creature claiming to be the renegade daughter of the now-extinct Fujiwara clan. Well, he had certainly seemed several youkai who bore animalistic features, no doubt owing to their demonic origin, though he was fairly certain that this was merely artistic license. Or maybe the Sonozika clan had actually almost been wiped out by a flaming bird-woman. Honestly, at this point, Nathaniel would accept anything.

Of greater interest to Nathaniel wasn't the bird-woman's appearance, but what she was doing in the picture, or to be more specific, where the fire was coming from. Specifically, her mouth. Now, given that it was highly unlikely that the artist had set up his easel at the actual site of the slaughter and had her pose to be painted, that was probably just another attempt to be dramatic rather than accurate.

Still…

Seiya's words came back to him. "Out of her mouth!" he had said. "She spewed fire out of her mouth!"

Interesting.

He mentally formed a picture of the uncouth woman claiming to be named Fujiwara no Mokou in his head and transposed it over the rendition of the Fujiwara no Mokou of old. Of course there was little they visually had in common, and by any reasonable metric that Fujiwara no Mokou ought to have been burning in Hell for the last several centuries.

But what if she wasn't?

What if the two were one and the same?

He had to learn more. He had to get in close, examine the situation for himself.

But how?

Give in.

He shook his head. No, shut up!

Think. He had to think. He had to figure out a way.

Nathaniel sighed. This would have been so much easier in Philadelphia. There, it would be so easy to send someone under the guise of providing charity, and have them-

Wait.

Nathaniel frowned. An idea was forming. It was incomplete, it was certainly risky, but…

He slowly nodded. Yes. Yes, that could work.

"For as the Christ our Savior once said, it is better to have a millstone tied around your neck and to be thrown into the sea than to let even one of the little ones be lead into darkness! And though I am certain that some of those children have already welcome sin into their hearts and are beyond saving, there might be those whom still hear the Lord calling to them. There are those who might be persuaded to break away, and seek out the Light."

Nathaniel paused, letting the faithful soak in his words. Then he said, "I am going to propose that our church offers the orphanage relief and support in this trying time. I know this goes against what I have counseled in the past, but the Lord does not make mistakes, and he finds faithful in even the most unlikely of places. Moses was a murderer hiding in the desert when the Almighty appeared to him in a burning bush. Jonah was a coward who ran and hid rather than deliver salvation to the wicked. The great Apostle Paul was a violent man seeking to eradicate the followers of Christ. It might be that, among them, we might also find the next vessel of the Lord's will. And though they may laugh and curse us, though all but one of those children might turn their backs to the Gospel, that single one would have made the attempt worth it. Amen?"

In this, his congregation had no qualms in answering him.

"Amen!"

It was at the end of the day, and Nathaniel stood naked and alone in his washroom, staring once again at his reflection.

It was well that his sermons tended to be on the excitable side. That way it was easy to explain how his brow glistened with sweat. Besides, it was the middle of summer! Given how many layers of thick clothes he wore, of course he would come out a little sweaty.

But if that was the case, why did he feel so cold?

He looked down at his hand, the corrupted hand, the one that had been the Dark Voice's conduit. On the surface it looked perfectly fine, and it moved when he told it to, how he told it to.

But he still couldn't feel it. It was like everything from his bicep down had been hacked off.

Give in.

He always needed to put in work to wake it up. He would often rise to find it feeling cold and lifeless, but after a hot herbal bath he would be able to beat some feeling into it, even if that feeling was searing pain.

A deep basin of steaming hot water treated with herbs sat on the table next to him. After taking a moment to prepare himself, Nathaniel thrust his hand into the water.

Normally that would be when the agony started, when the heat and herbs would come in contact with the corruption and he would have to bite down on a piece of leather to keep from screaming.

Not this time though. This time, he felt nothing.

No, no, no, no. Nathaniel clenched his hand into a fist, digging his fingernail into his palm. Come on, feel something! Anything.

There was nothing.

He yanked his hand out of the basin and stared at it. Murky water dripped down and steam rose up, but it wasn't flushed with pink in response to the heat. In fact, it was still pasty white, like that of a bloodless corpse.

Nathaniel fumbled around with his left hand until he found his silver shaving razor. He pressed the blade against his palm and drew it across, making a shallow cut.

There was no blood.

No!

Again he thrust it back into the water. Come on, feel something! Where was the pain? There was always pain!

But then, though there still was no response from his hand, something did start to change.

The water had stopped steaming. He waved his left hand over the surface and felt no heat.

But it couldn't have cooled that quickly! It had been boiling hot just a moment ago.

Then, as he watched, ice started to form, spreading out from his wrist to consume the entire basin.

Nathaniel hastily yanked his hand back out again. God, even though he still felt nothing from his hand, he could still feel the cold radiating off of it on his chest.

It looked dead. He could move it, but he couldn't feel it, and he couldn't bleed it. It looked dead, it felt dead, and had done so ever since…

(eyes. Eyes of devils, opening all around him. The relief carvings of twisted death had opened their eyes and were staring at him straight from Hell.)

…ever since…

(something was rising from the center of the room. A cylinder, a multi-sided black cylinder. Oh Jesus, help me!)

…ever since…

(it's calling to me. I can hear it! It calls my name, draws me toward it, but I cannot resist! My legs are no longer my own, my body moves of its own accord!)

…ever since…

(I touch it. It is as cold as ice, freezing my palm to its side. I give the command to tear my hand away, but my body does not move. Then something jabs into the center of my palm, and I feel warm blood leaking out)

…ever since…

(I lose an entire layer of skin when I finally rip my hand away. I see it there, a perfect white handprint, frozen to the side of the black box. In its center is a tiny scarlet bead of blood. The blood begins to spread, covering the skin, dying it red)

…ever since…

(the box is opening. Oh God, it's opening! It's opening, and-)

Squeezing his dead hand into a fist, Nathaniel looked up again at his reflection, at his hollow eyes he always hid behind dark glasses. He was scared.

Give in.

Nathaniel's legs could no longer support him. He sank to the floor, curling his limbs up into a tight ball, his dead hand clenched at his heart while the other grabbed at his hair. "No," he sobbed. "No, I won't. I won't!"

Though the Dark Voice rarely changed the candor of its message, he was pretty sure he heard its laughter echoing through the deepest recesses of his soul.