

The Watchmen

Book I

In the Valley of Elah

By

'Dangerous' Walker

Copyright Grahame Walker 2015

Published at Smashwords

BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR

Adventures in Space

The TSAR Trilogy

1. The Trimedian

2. Tears of War

3. Strangers

Pray for Rain (a Ben Grant adventure)

The Book of Five Worlds

1. The Foreshadow of Balance

2. Five Tasks

3. The Road between Gods and Monsters

Southern Hunter

The Library of the Universes (short stories)

The Haunting of Berkeley Square

Find extracts from these books at the end of this novel...

A Note on the Text

The Christian World is a fascinating place and it has been mined for film and television often (most notably by a certain Archaeologist), but is nearly always misrepresented. It was my intention in this book to keep such things strictly as is portrayed in the Bible. The Bible however, does not talk deeply on matters of Spiritual Warfare as that is not the point of the Book. The Bible exists to help us know and have a relationship with our Creator. Therefore, though the root of the ideas in this novel are in the Bible, I have had to take some liberties and use my imagination to form an exciting story. Most notably is the use of the Book of Enoch. Though the verses used are mirrored in Genesis and the Letters of Paul, I'm not saying that the Book of Enoch is part of the Bible or that it should be viewed as such. I leave any such discussion to those much more learned than I.

I am using the King James Version of the Bible with a few of the thees and thous changed. This is for no other reason than this version is copyright free. Sorry if it's a little harder to understand.

'And beyond that abyss I saw a place which had no firmament of the heaven above, and no firmly founded earth beneath it: there was no water upon it, and no birds, but it was a waste and horrible place. I saw there seven stars like great burning mountains, and to me, when I inquired regarding them the angel said: 'This place is the end of heaven and earth: this has become a prison for the stars and the host of heaven.'

Enoch 18, v 12 – 14

'Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?'

Juvenal, 'Satires'
CHAPTER ONE

The door creaked open in the same way my secretary does her job, stubbornly half-hearted. It couldn't even be bothered to open all the way and the man who was trying to enter had to give it another push. I wished straightaway that it had been better at keeping closed, or that my secretary was better at telling people I was out to lunch.

"Mr. Harker," the man said holding his hat in his hands.

I held a palm out to the chair in front of my desk and he walked over and sat. I scratched my throat with the back of my fingers.

"What can I do for you, Houngan?"

"So you know who I am," the man said simply.

I did, his name was DeSalle, he was a good twenty years older than me (which tells you nothing at this point, though my secretary might tell you that only makes him thirty) and had skin so dark it had a blue tinge in the dusty electric light. His eyes were dark and the sclera, you know the white part, was more a milky yellow, like cigarette stained wallpaper that used to be fancy. He wore a cheap suit with a crumpled pork pie hat that I admired before answering.

"You're a Houngan, a Voodoo priest. It's DeSalle, isn't it?"

"It is. I'm not local so I'm impressed you know me," he nodded to himself in some form of approval.

"It's kinda my job," I shrugged. It was on the door, I mean what's the point of words if people aren't going to read them?

"It is, and that's why I'm here."

"So you can read."

"What?"

"I like your hat," I said and I did. I like hats.

"You like hats."

I said that.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

He pulled a crumpled newspaper from inside his suit.

"I get the paper," I said, but I often didn't. Have I mentioned my lazy secretary?

"Then you will have seen this," he opened the paper and showed me.

Maybe he had already heard about my secretary.

"Voodoo sacrifice."

"That's what the papers are saying," he said, but not before a tired sigh.

"And you disagree."

"I do."

"And what's it got to do with me?" I asked.

"You're a private detective specialising in the occult," he said and the sign on the door paid for itself.

"So I'm thinking you want me to show it had nothing to do with Voodoo."

"Yes," he nodded earnestly.

I shook my head for effect.

"Can't do. This is murder, this is police business."

"I don't want you to trouble them. I just want someone who knows what they are talking about to point out that this is not a Voodoo sacrifice. We don't do things like that, Mr Harker."

"I know that."

"So you already know that we are being targeted unfairly," he was getting more upset about it so I looked at the article.

"All the hallmarks of a Voodoo sacrifice," I said.

"Which you know we don't do."

"Someone in your congregation might have."

"Then you don't know my congregation."

"I know you are meddling with Satan, Houngan."

"We do good; Voodoo does good, Mr. Harker."

"You're playing with spirits, Houngan, there's only one type that would go along with another religion," I said in my best stern voice.

"I was told you would be like this," he said.

"Celebrity," I said.

"And I was told to come to you anyway because you wouldn't let innocents suffer, because you know the truth of these things," he kneaded his hat.

"Alright," I said with hands up.

He was right. Practitioners of Voodoo didn't go around sacrificing people, at least not anymore, and even a quick read through of the article made the whole thing seem suspicious. It was too much like what you thought a Voodoo sacrifice would look like. It was Voodoo in a way that anyone with a little knowledge (probably from a film) would not look any closer at.

"You think someone is trying to pin this on your temple," I said.

"Yes," he seemed relieved. "Who we are and who people think we are is very different."

"Yes, it's much worse," I frowned.

"We see things very differently," he said.

"Yes, you are wrong, dangerously so, and I am right," I said leaning back in my chair.

"So be it," he said looking down.

"No," I said forcefully. "Not so be it."

"I was told you would be like this," he said as if it was a mantra.

I tossed up between angry and resigned and went for the latter, as I so often did.

"They won't let me get in the way of a murder investigation," I said.

"Not one of us can stop nor change the media, but we can present the real facts anyway. I worry that we will be persecuted, or someone will be prosecuted just because of how the media sees us," he said.

I felt sorry for him. Voodoo was famous in the media, especially films, and none of it was positive. It was all witchcraft and Voodoo dolls and actually they had quite a positive religion. They thought they were doing good for their god, Bondye, a bastardisation of Bon Dieu. The problem being that they were deceived. Being deceived by evil spirits to keep them away from the one true God.

I looked to the print on my wall, Hopper's 'Nighthawks'. I was being asked again to help someone, asked to do His work. Oh, yes, I already knew it was His work, I could feel it. This wasn't Voodoo, this was something else that they wanted people to attribute to (the movie version of) Voodoo. It was a cover and the question that burned in my gut was, for what?

"Alright. I should be able to see the body, should be able to show that this wasn't Voodoo."

"Oh, thank you," he almost deflated in my chair, you know, like someone had put a pin in him. "You don't think it is Voodoo."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. It has all the hallmarks of Voodoo, the problem here is that it doesn't have any meaning behind it. I don't want to find that meaning, Houngan."

"You won't," he said standing.

"See yourself out, my secretary won't," I said.

"My card," he said putting it on my desk before leaving. He stopped at the door. "Thank you, Harker."

"Get out," I said staring at the ceiling.

He left and seconds later my secretary entered.

"You're surprisingly eager," I said to the ceiling.

"This isn't the Mash is it?"

"I don't think so."

"You think we're on, don't you?"

"What makes you say that?" I asked looking at her.

"The sad resignation on your face."

"You say that with scorn, Adelaide, but you haven't seen the things I have," I said deciding to look at the ceiling again.

She left. I played the game of trying to decide how old she was. At least ten years older than me, but she was in incredible shape and that twisted things. Much better shape than I was in now. Her face was unlined and that made me think younger, but the way she carried herself, talked to people all pointed to older. She could be twenty years older than me. I really didn't know her that well at all, knew little to nothing of her past.

I stared at the ceiling. My chair had a good recline feature, and thinking of it now, Adelaide chose it for me. Apparently she knows me better than I know her.

This wasn't the Mash, of course it wasn't, this was murder. The Mash, if you must know, is what I do most days. Nix that, what I do most days is very little. I like to stare. At things, in things, out of things, it's not much of a hobby, but a man has to have something.

When I'm not staring at things I'm investigating the paranormal. Well, I say 'paranormal' and hell, I say investigating, but as ghosts and the like don't actually exist I don't have to do much investigating. You might be surprised though at how little time I have for my hobby; spirituality and a belief in the occult has risen steadily in the last howevermanyyears despite the progress of science and technology. So I charge people to tell them that their ghost is a banging water pipe or tricks of light and/or sound.

You know of infrasound? It's sound below 20Hz, which is the limit of our hearing. Basically noises below this can cause feelings of fear and dread and some can cause hallucinations. A lot of the time my job is finding out what in the building is causing those sounds.

But then there's the other work I do, the real work. The whole paranormal stuff is just a front, a way to pay the bills. This was definitely the other stuff if it was anything at all. I really hoped it would be nothing; that I could show that it wasn't Voodoo so the police wouldn't bark up the wrong tree and then go home. Maybe stare at something for a while. But I had a feeling in my heart that told me different.

†

I'd managed to get an appointment with the detective leading the case, a Detective Garrett, and she hadn't sounded too enthused at meeting with me. It's tough to get taken seriously when you're a ghost hunter and I can appreciate that. No wonder Adelaide was so grumpy, what would her friends think of her job? Or future boyfriends?

"I don't have time for this," Detective Garret told me.

"It is prime staring time," I nodded and she gave me a quizzical glare as we entered a little office.

"What?"

I sat down without being asked.

"I just need to see the body," I said as I had on the phone.

"So you said. Not happening."

"It's not Voodoo," I said.

"That's not what I'm told."

"It kinda looks like Voodoo," I replied.

"I already know that," she frumped.

"But it isn't."

"Oh no?"

"Nope."

She sighed and stared at the corner where the ceiling met the walls.

"I have work to do," she said.

"As do I."

"Do you?" she looked at me.

"Well, outside of this, no. Not really."

"Then I'm the only one here having their time wasted."

"I'm here to save you wasted time. That and to help the Voodoo community," I said.

"Because this isn't Voodoo despite our experts saying that it is."

"Did they?"

"I just said they did."

She had a point there.

"They said it was definitely Voodoo, did they?"

She thought about it briefly.

"Not definitely, no."

"Here's my issue, the issue of my client. Why would they do it? Why would you do a Voodoo sacrifice and make it so public? There's nothing in Voodoo that says a sacrifice should be public; as long as it's done, it's done. There are plenty of places to do it and never get caught."

She thought about it and I liked her for it. Thinking is becoming overrated in society and that's a problem.

"Criminals aren't smart," she said finally.

"This isn't a criminal activity to them, it's part of their religion."

"Why would anyone else do it? Why make it public and try and frame someone else? Like you say, there're plenty of places to do it secretly."

"I'd need to look at the body, the crime scene photos; the crime scene if I could, to answer that question."

She laughed.

"You really think I'm going to let you go to the crime scene?"

"No," I shrugged. I was used to this.

She looked around the room again. There was still nothing to see so I guessed she was weighing it up. In these instances it's wise to keep your mouth shut. Says a lot about me. I had a quick stare out the window.

"I'm not trying to jump in on your investigation, my client just wants something to say to the media when the inevitable happens."

"Oh yeah?" she turned on me. "And what is that?"

I stood up, this was a standing moment. I paced for effect and to not look like I was challenging her.

"Two things bug me. One is that the media already has this and has so much detail," she grimaced about that. "The second thing is a minor detail in the form of a Star of David."

"What of it?"

"It's got nothing to do with Voodoo. People connect Voodoo with Satanism and so don't think about it."

"So it's done by amateurs, but it still begs the question why."

I didn't answer, but thought about it again. It was really the sole reason that this wasn't the Mash, wasn't just something linked to the occult. There were plenty of murders that got linked to Satanism and other such things, and no doubt Satan got a kick out of them, but they weren't for or by him. The idea that Satan wants human sacrifices is a myth, that's not what he's interested in, that's lowbrow for him.

A little off topic, but I remember a case I was asked to advise on where a Christian had been killed in a supposed satanic ritual. I pointed out that the last thing Satan would want is a Christian to be killed and go to Heaven before Satan had a chance to break their faith.

"It's a sign," I said at last. I didn't want to say it. I didn't want it to be anything more than the Mash.

"A sign?" she asked with eyebrows raised. "For who?"

"That doesn't matter to you, it really doesn't."

"If you know something you'll be obstructing justice by not telling me," she said.

I laughed. I shouldn't have, I didn't mean to, but I did. When it came to Justice I often didn't, couldn't, work by the Law's definition.

"All I need is to see the body and then I've done what I've been paid for. I won't get in your way after that."

She looked at me and I looked at her, our eyes pierced each other until she looked away.

"OK. I can't see the harm, but if you're holding out..." she left the threat hanging.

I plucked it up.

"I'm not."

†

There wasn't much of the body left, but there was more than would have been if it had been a Voodoo sacrifice. You see, in Voodoo the sacrifice means something, every action and the way it is performed, means something. This body was roughly hacked up and anything to point it to Voodoo was at the crime scene rather than on the body.

This wasn't a Voodoo sacrifice, this was all about the show, there was one reason and only one reason for this sick murder and that was for it to be found, to be seen.

I sighed when we got back outside.

"So?" she asked in the cold air.

"So it's not Voodoo, there's no precision, no meaning to it. In Voodoo every cut means something, is special, part of the ritual. This was a hack job.

"And like I said, they don't do this kind of thing. At least not officially, so they don't flaunt it like this."

"So someone is trying to frame them."

"No."

"No?"

"Look, it doesn't matter. This is what is going to happen; you and your fellow officers are going to follow the Voodoo route and you're going to find a suspect. Everything is going to fit despite the person strenuously denying it all and then you are going to suddenly find a piece of evidence that ties them in. It'll be a lucky break that closes the case and it'll be forgotten."

"Except that the church..."

"Temple, it's called a Hounfour," I taught.

"The Hounfour will deny it is Voodoo thanks to you."

"And everyone wins. Except whoever you send to prison for it."

"But you have more information."

"No," I said looking at her directly for the first time. "That's it. That's everything."

I turned and walked away. She had done as I had asked and I really didn't have anything more to tell her. We were done, or so I thought. She wouldn't, couldn't believe anything else that I had in my mind; and it had nothing to do with her investigation. It was my investigation now.

I shouldn't have baited her though, shouldn't have told her how I thought it would have gone down; that was foolish because I was tired and annoyed at getting pulled in again. I was frustrated that I couldn't tell her more, frustrated that I couldn't tell anyone outside those that already knew.
CHAPTER TWO

That Sunday I went to church as I was reading. I read 1 Peter 5 and the Pastor preached particularly on verses 8 and 9:

'Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walks about, seeking whom he may devour: Whom resist steadfast in the faith, knowing that the same afflictions are accomplished in your brethren that are in the world.'

Afterwards I stayed for tea. I more often don't, but I wanted to. Wanted to what? I didn't know then and don't know now, maybe I was trying to be normal, trying to ignore what I was about to start. I talked to a few people, my friend Andy, mostly, but the pastor caught me as I tried to leave.

I hadn't told him what I did for a living, but like a good pastor he had found out and had come to my office to talk. He was concerned that I either believed in ghosts and ghoulies or that I was conning people. I assured him that if I believed in such things, or if I was a conman, I wouldn't be getting up early on a Sunday morning to go to church.

I explained to him that I was very honest with people, working out why they thought their house was haunted, I knew all the tricks, but I also told him that sometimes it was worse. Sometimes people were courting with evil presences through their lifestyles or the things they had in their house. I was upfront with my beliefs and the way I would deal with things, and for the most part they were happy. Some were not, everyone's terrified you're going to try and convert them. Most of those called me back a few days later anyway.

Ultimately my pastor was concerned for me and my spiritual safety and we had regular prayer sessions to help keep me safe. When you started playing with demons you needed that full armour of God.

"We haven't met up recently," pastor said.

"No, we should do that," I agreed.

"Anything out of the ordinary? Anything troubling?" he asked.

"Nothing much of anything, to be honest," I said.

I wasn't going to mention the whole Voodoo thing, he didn't know about that side of my life and that was for the best.

"What did you think of my sermon?"

"I thought it was good, it's good to be reminded that Satan is here on Earth, not some king of Hell, not some nemesis to God. It worries me that we ascribe too much to Satan, that if we are tempted or whatever it's because of him, as if he is omnipresent, able to get into our thoughts and lead us astray."

"You don't think he can?"

"I think he can if he decides to target us, but I think most of our sins come down to us."

"Agreed," he nodded. "When are you free for a prayer time?"

I thought about the murder and what it might mean.

"I think now would be good if you can, I don't know when I'm free this week."

"Fine, let's go to my office."

†

I already had a job booked for that week and went to a family home in a small town only an hour out of the city.

"Thank you for coming," the woman said as she led me into the lounge. "Would you like a drink?"

"A coffee would be good, thanks," I replied sitting on a sofa she pointed me to.

The house, from what I had seen, was nicely appointed. There were the obvious signs of children and she obviously spent a lot of time keeping the house neat and tidy despite of them. Family photos on the walls and on varying surfaces showed a happy middle-class family with two children. A girl who looked about fifteen and a son a year or two younger.

"My husband would kill me if he knew you were here," she said re-entering the room.

"How come?"

A good sign, it meant that he didn't believe anything was wrong. That generally meant that nothing was. Of course when there was, one person not believing could hamper the whole process. People could be really good at convincing themselves everything was OK.

"He doesn't think it's anything, just the kids being silly, but..." she trailed off.

"But you agree with your children and you haven't told him that," I finished.

She handed me my coffee and I put it down on the table next to me as she sat. She looked ashamed.

"Yes. It's silly, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily. Listen, I need to be upfront with you before we do anything. I don't believe in ghosts and the like, often it is something mundane."

"Then why do you do this?" she asked as surprised as everyone else.

"Because you look tired. Tired and worried and you want peace of mind."

She smiled a little and nodded. She looked like she was going to cry, something else I was familiar with.

"I also need to tell you that I am a Christian and I operate within that belief system. If you don't like that then I can go now."

She shook her head.

"Oh no, I don't have a problem with that. I don't believe it myself," she said apologetically.

So many were apologetic, as if they should believe in it. Why not? It preached peace and love and, by not believing, were you saying you were against those things?

"So tell me what the issue is? What's been happening?"

"It all started with that stupid Ouija board. Someone gave it to us as a present and it sat in a cupboard before Ray, that's our son, dug it out and we played with it one night. My husband and I had had a few glasses of wine and we thought it would be funny. It was a stormy night and all of that."

"That's cool, tell me about what happened."

"After that there were bangs in the night; nothing that you wouldn't put down to the house settling, but the children couldn't sleep. They felt scared and had nightmares," she shook her head in frustration.

"Nothing you couldn't put down to something else, but what made you think there was something more?"

"I don't know, the children weren't sleeping so I was tired, but I thought things were in different places. I'd go to get them in the morning and they were somewhere else. Nothing crazy, I could have put the car keys in my bag instead of on the hook because I was tired. And then I started to have nightmares. Oh, you think I'm stupid don't you? Or mad. I think I've gone mad," now the tears began to creep out.

"No, I don't think you're mad, but it isn't the Ouija board. Let me tell you something, the patent for that is held by Hasbro, bought from Parker Brothers; you know, the guys that do Monopoly."

"Really?" she asked with surprise and relief.

"Yeah. So I've got an idea of what your problem is, but I'd like to look around the house first, if I may," I said standing.

It's a lot harder to say no to a standing person; that would mean they'd have to sit down again and that would just be awkward.

"Yes, of course. If you think that will help."

"It's a simple case of clearing up everything it could be, I'd feel bad if I wasn't thorough," I smiled.

"Right, yes, of course," she said and stood.

She was a little flustered, but they always were when someone actually took their complaints seriously. No one, even those that hired me, really believed it was something. Most were happy to pay me money just to tell them that ghosts didn't exist and they were being silly. Which they mostly were as ghosts don't exist.

The house was pretty much commonplace, a nice family home with all the wear of family life in it's walls. But she was right. There was something else, something that didn't belong in this happy home, an undercurrent of feeling. It's hard to pinpoint, hard to give a name or description to it; you can feel it most in homes with domestic abuse. A sort of sadness and fear that permeates the rooms as if it has been sweated out and leached into the walls, the furniture. It's like when you ask someone how they are and they tell you they are fine and they smile, but you can see the sadness in their eyes.

"What's this room?" I asked stopping.

"Oh, that's Pete's office, we can't go in there."

"I need to," I said seriously because I was serious.

"He wouldn't like that," she frowned.

"What does he do? Your husband? For a job, I mean."

"He's a police officer. A detective."

"I see," I said and turned the handle.

"No," she said but it was too late. "Oh. It should be locked."

"We'll lock it on our way out," I said.

It was locked, but I have some tricks up my sleeve. Literarily. You get an interesting toolkit in my line of work.

The room was the kind of mess you expect from a room that is worked in. There were two bulging bookcases, a filing cabinet and most of the room was taken up by the desk. I looked upon it. Case files; case files of a grisly looking murder.

"Look, I really don't think..." she tried, but I was transfixed.

On the desk were notes and pictures. A girl cut up in a bathtub, but it was the notes that caught my eye. References to the Codex of Solomon and Phillippe's Box. I quickly noted all that I could on the case including the girl's name. I'd like to think that it was all just coincidence considering the whole Voodoo thing, but there are no coincidences on a chess board.

"OK, we can go," I said and walked past her.

I shut the door and she tried the handle to make sure it was locked before we walked back to the lounge and I took a seat and a sip of coffee.

"So I think I know what your problem is," I said.

"But you haven't heard everything," she complained.

"Like what?"

"Well the Ouija board, it spelt something. Look I kept this, I don't know why, I wrote down what it spelt out."

She dug around next to the seat she was in and pulled out a piece of paper that she handed to me. I read through it and sighed mentally.

"Most of it is nothing, they say you are meant to start off with simple questions, but then it started to move on it's own. That's the last sentence," she explained.

"Yes, that's all good, but it isn't your issue."

"But it says that we would be visited," she argued.

"And as I told you the Ouija board was invented by a games company. It's not evil. The problem here is that you, as a family, were open to let evil into your house.

"I told you I'm a Christian and I told you that I don't believe in ghosts, but I do believe in demons, I do believe in True Evil. And I believe that you can let those influences into your house, into your life."

She looked at me and nodded even though her eyes told me she didn't really understand.

"You don't have a problem here, Mrs Davies, you just dabbled in something you shouldn't have and those files on your husband's desk are more of an issue. He is dealing with a case that involves demonic things and then you all declared an interest in it by playing with the Ouija board.

"Your problem is easily solved by getting those case files back to the office, but also through a simple prayer. Would you be willing to pray with me?"

"Well, as I said, I don't believe, do you think it would help? I mean can I, if I don't?"

"Yes. It is a cleansing, an affirmation that you are not interested in such things."

"Well, OK, I mean, do I have to pray? I wouldn't know what to say," she flustered.

"No. I will pray if you will take my hands."

"Well, yes, if it will stop all of this."

"It will."

"OK then."

I motioned for her to come and sit next to me on the sofa and I took her hand.

"Lord, this is a good household, a family of love that has strayed into realms that they did not wish to. It is not their fault, You know that as you see everything and You are good and merciful. You are great and have love for all people on this Earth. We pray now that You would rid this house of that which might want them to be unhappy, that would settle a blanket of dread and unhappiness over them. There is no interest in darkness here and we ask that in Your infinite mercy You would see them not tormented by it. We ask this in Your name, in Jesus name, amen."

"Amen," she repeated.

I let go of her hand and stood up. She took a second and then stood up also.

"Thank you," she smiled.

Yes she was happy, I could see it in her eyes, but I could also feel it in the walls, that feeling of dread was gone. She had pronounced in her 'amen' that she and her family were not interested in the dark paths of this world.

I told her to call me in a week to let me know how things were, sooner if things hadn't changed and then left.

†

When I got back to the office I sat behind my desk. Adelaide assured me there were no messages, but that only meant that she hadn't picked up the phone. I considered knocking off early and pulled out the piece of paper that Mrs Davies had given me. What the Ouija board had spelled out. Most of it was 'yes' and 'no', like she had said, normal questions, but the last thing she wrote down, when she said it wrote itself, said this:

'Expect a visit. M.'

That wasn't a message for them, it was for me. Man, I hate chess.
CHAPTER THREE

I decided to go and see the Librarian in order to get more information on the Codex, the Box and anything that might link them to the Voodoo murder, which I keep calling it despite being adamant that it wasn't Voodoo. The sky outside was heavy with dark clouds and the wind whipped around my Driza-Bone. That, for those who don't know, is an ankle length waxed riding coat. It's the greatest raincoat in existence and I enjoyed scoffing at people who had purchased inferior raincoats, which is everyone not wearing a Driza-Bone. Which is practically everyone outside of the Australian Outback. Anyway...

The Librarian was a bona fide Prodigal Son; he had won big, very big on the lottery and had used his money to live the life of the flesh. There was nothing that he did not try, nothing he didn't indulge in and he found himself becoming emptier and emptier with every experience. Having everything money could buy, indulging in every want of the flesh made him just want more until he realised that none of these Earthly things could ever satisfy him. His belly was full, but his spirit was empty. And so he found God.

From there I knew that he dedicated his money and life to putting together a collection of books and artefacts about spiritual matters, 'weapons against the Devil' he had said to me. What he had never said was why he had set his life to this; what had happened to him to choose that path rather than just give money to charity and pray a lot. Frankly I never asked as I didn't want to know, I deal with enough of that kind of stuff.

I'm kinda selfish like that.

He owned a building that had a closed restaurant on the ground floor. No one seemed to notice that the 'opening soon' sign had been there for years, but he did change the type of restaurant every now and then. It was currently a Vietnamese restaurant which kinda made me sad as I like Vietnamese food.

"I see the restaurant business is still tough to break into," I said when I found him.

The entire first and second floor of the building was floor-to-ceiling shelving containing books and, well, stuff. Some of it in jars. He had an office in one corner of the second floor and I think he had living area on the third, but I never looked in there. It'd be inappropriate.

"Ahh, the Man Who Walks Alone," he said glancing at me.

"I sometimes walk with people," I argued.

"Do you?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I sometimes walk close to people," I shrugged.

"Come and see this," he led me to his office.

There we sat down and he passed me a small stone statue, about three inches high.

"Decoration for your restaurant?"

"Permits."

"What are?"

"Stopping the restaurant being opened."

"Ahh," I ahhed.

"It's a statue of the demon Merihem. He is alleged to be the demon of pestilence. He is said to have been seen by the Aztecs and the Spanish, both sides believing that the demon was working for the other side. This statue is from around 1519, just before smallpox decimated the Valley of Mexico."

"Nice," I said.

"Look on the base," he said and I did so.

"Numbers," I said.

"Some sort of code, probably dangerous in the wrong hands."

"Interesting," I said putting it down on the desk.

"It is to the educated man," he withered.

"I'm sure you'll find one to help you."

"Very droll."

"I'm more interested in the Codex of Solomon and Phillippe's Box."

"How come?" his face lit up with interest. That and the opportunity to school me.

I told him about the police notes I had seen and what I knew about the not-Voodoo sacrifice.

"You think they are linked?"

"I think I don't believe in coincidence like this. I think I need to be a more educated man on them, just in case."

"Can you get me more information on the cases?"

"Difficult. I'm not supposed to know about one and the sacrifice involved blood and stones just trying to get to see the body."

"But it wasn't Voodoo."

"No. Not by anyone who knew what they were doing. And the Star of David, that's not Voodoo."

"The victim was Jewish?"

"Not that I know, but blood and stones, as I mentioned."

"Hmm," he hmmed in thought. "I need more information."

"As do I, kinda why I came here."

"Yes. The Codex."

"You have a copy?"

He laughed. He was rude like that.

"I wish. I'm not even sure it exists."

"Helpful," I mused.

"It is, as you no doubt know, a diary of sorts. Solomon, in Ecclesiastes, talks about trying everything in the World to test it. 'Everything under the Sun'."

"'And whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not from them, I withheld not my heart from any joy'," I quoted.

"Ecclesiastes 2 verse 10, very good. The Codex is a diary of all of those experiences and what he thought of them. Every lust of the flesh tried, documented, examined and dissected."

"Sounds like a New York Times bestseller."

"I don't understand."

"They call it humour."

"Then 'they' are misguided."

"Ouch."

"Only a few people have claimed to have seen the Codex and even then they don't agree as to what is in it other than what I have told you. And they have never had a copy themselves, just seen one, or parts of it. The most reports come from the Crusades."

"Why would anyone have an interest in it? I mean it's not like people can't experience such things for themselves."

"True true, but this was Solomon, purportedly the wisest man who has ever lived and he says himself that he tried all these things without ever losing his wisdom. He was never lost to the things he partook in, it was not hedonistic."

"Still smacks of the Marquis de Sade. That wasn't meant to be a pun."

"Wasn't it?"

"Just serendipitous."

"Solomon was a spiritual man, he never lost that either. He was trying to find out what was good for people living under God."

"So it has a spiritual aspect."

"Like your job."

"Are you saying that he got involved with demons?" I asked.

"I'm not. It is suggested that he turned to the spiritual world for his tests. Listen, there is at least one person who says they have read the Codex and report that Solomon walked with Satan himself."

It was my turn to bark a laugh.

"I agree. I don't think someone like Solomon would ever court the Devil, would even be able to be in his presence."

"But I'm starting to see why certain peoples would be interested in the book," I said.

"Oh yes. A look into the Kingdom of the Air."

"And what of Phillippe's Box?"

"What do you know of it?"

"Not what's inside it. You remember the last thing we did together?" I asked.

"Hard to forget."

"Yeah. There was mention of it then."

"You never told me," he looked a little cross.

"Didn't I? It didn't have anything to do with it in the end, did it?"

"Didn't it? It's here again."

"Yeah, maybe."

"How was it mentioned?"

"That it was being looked for, nothing more than that. It was a lead that didn't end up needing to be followed."

"Ahh, the Great Detective," he ironicalised.

"I don't think anyone is mistaking me for him. Whoever he is. Sherlock Holmes?"

"Your need for banter is tiring," he sighed.

"Try living with me."

"Again there are theories about the Box, but it's existence is much more validated than the Codex. Phillippe was either the creator of it or the last person to have it. Some suggest he was the one who filled it."

"With what?"

"Again no one really knows."

"Ahh, you educated people, so educated..."

"And you think this could be connected to this, so called, Voodoo sacrifice?"

"I don't think it's a coincidence," I said not mentioning the Ouija message.

"So you said."

"So I need to assume that it is. I think the not-Voodoo murder was a sign. It was an advert saying that there were people willing and ready."

"To join the fight? Yes, they would have an interest in the Codex and the Box if they are trying to get that type of attention. Summoning demons."

"Controlling. Whoever they are they want something out of this and they want to know they can get it."

"Yes," he nodded. "There are people out there more foolish than even you."

"You say the sweetest things."

"I need to research. You need to research, I will call you when I have books for you. In the mean time you need to try and get more information on these murders. Find a link if there is one."

"I'll try," I got up and walked to the door. "And thank you."

He looked up at me from his little demon statue.

"It's what we've been called to do."
CHAPTER FOUR

It took another week before she contacted me. I'd had no luck in contacting her. In the meantime the Librarian had called for me and sent me back to my office with five books to read through. That and I had to investigate cats going missing in a neighbourhood. Unsurprisingly the police weren't doing much about it and as one of them had been nailed to a telegraph pole, at least one person in the street thought of Satanism.

I tried to get Adelaide to help me read through the books, but she gave me both cold shoulders and then got a friend to stop by in order to give me a third. I tried to argue that it was kind of her job and I need to emphasise the tried. It was like trying to convince whales to rap rather than sing.

There was a lot of weird stuff in the books, even for me, and a lot of tales about demons that never seemed to get into anything official. Stories of them in times that have been covered extensively by history books, but also personal stories. I did try the Internet, it threw up a lot of gaming references and Church of Satan stuff, but nothing to the factual levels I was looking for, so I had to go back to the whole old fashioned books and reading thing.

It was time consuming, especially with the whole satanic catnapping thing. No wait, catnapping is something else I was doing, cat-capturing? Caturing? Let's just go with cat-kidnapping. There were references though, to both the Codex and the Box, but nothing beyond the vague 'facts' that the Librarian had told me. I was learning nothing new, which was nothing new for me.

And then, just as I was learning something new, Detective Garrett walked through my door.

"Your secretary told me to just come in," she said trying to force the door open a little more.

"You should feel special, she just grunts at me," I said waving to the chair.

"You didn't seem the reading type," she said sitting.

"You didn't seem the sarcastic type," I replied.

"That wasn't sarcasm."

I thought about it.

"Then it should have been. I read."

"Do comics count?" she gestured to a shelf on my bookcase.

"They're graphic novels, and yes, they count."

"It was like you said."

"A lot quicker than I thought it would be."

"Yes. Very quick, that's what made me think of your words."

"Who was it?"

"Just some guy who goes to a Voodoo temple. Only been going recently. Evidence turned up out of the blue pointing to him, nothing at the crime scene and he denied it."

"Feels like a plant, doesn't it? The evidence?"

"Yes. But there's more. I thought of what you said and I went to my Captain before I came here."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, I went to him apologetic. I felt foolish, no offence, but I had to air my concerns and I had to admit to him what you had said. He leaned forward seriously and told me that he knew you."

He did, it went like this: he'd had some trouble, things moving around the house, noises in the night, no one sleeping because of nightmares and a feeling of dread in the house that he was loathe to admit he also felt.

"I dream of a dark place sometimes and other times a very light place. The dark place I know is in the ground and the light place I know is in the air. Heaven and Hell, I guess."

"Nope," I had replied and he seemed cross at that.

"I dream that my family are dead and sometimes that I have killed them myself. Sometimes it is to save them, sometimes it is to damn them.

"Things have moved. Last week the table and chairs that are in the kitchen, where we have breakfast, were in the hallway. We moved them back before the kids woke up, but they all complained of headaches that morning. I don't believe in ghosts, Mr Harker."

"Neither do I," I told him.

"Then what is it?"

"I need to come to your house."

I went there and it was not cool. There was something messing around in that house and it couldn't be too long before a possession. I never found out what had begun it, it turned out to be the start of something else, somehow they knew I would get involved. But that's by the by, you don't want to hear about it.

OK, I don't want to tell it.

Here's what he told Detective Garrett.

"He told us to take a holiday, for one week while he stayed in the house. We did and when we went back he assured me that everything was OK now. He said that we could spend a week in the house and if it wasn't OK then I didn't have to pay him. He actually shrugged and told me I didn't have to pay him anything anyway. He seemed exhausted.

"Well everything was alright and I did pay him, even though he tried to refuse. I had to ask him before I left his office, that if he didn't believe in ghosts, then what was it?"

"This is what he said: 'There are things out there much worse than ghosts. People believe in ghosts, no one believes in these things anymore. You're lucky, they didn't want anything other than to mess around and they're gone now."

"Why did they come to us in the first place? Will they come back?" I asked.

"No," he shook his head emphatically. "They've got what they wanted, it was never you or your family they were interested in."

"It was you," I realised.

"I see why they made you Captain, but forget about it. Your kids will and stewing on it will only mean less sleep for nothing."

"Some time after that we had a murder case, something that pointed to satanic ritual. I called him in and he acted as an advisor. It wasn't, according to him, anything satanic or occult, but people believing that it was. We only caught the couple because of him. He is an excellent detective and I tried to get him to join the Force, but he declined. Two more cases I asked him to advise on, two more times I asked him to join the Force."

He was sweet, the Captain, 'excellent detective', I should have that on the door or something.

"He was really unhappy, the Captain," she continued, "that we would have to prosecute this man, but all the evidence pointed to him. He told me to come and see you."

Then she continued with what he had said:

"I don't know what it was, but something happened in that week we were away. Something happened in our house, I tell you this in confidence. It was only days later, when everything was alright again, that I noticed the first cross. It had been carved into the door frame of my office, right where it joined the carpet. I looked around when no one was in the house and I found more. Detective, every time my family is out I go around the house and I re-carve any of those crosses that are fading. I started going to church even though I still don't believe in all that.

"If he is involved then there might be something else, something we don't understand, and we need to know before we send an innocent man to prison."

"So here I am," she said.

I leaned back in my chair. This wasn't good. I needed to know what she knew, but I didn't need this. What was I going to say? Or, what was I going to say that she would believe? Actually, what was I going to say that she would accept? I didn't think Detective Garrett was the type of person to be fobbed off.

"I don't like you leaning back like that," she said and I tried to lean back further, realised I couldn't and leaned forward again.

Then I decided I was leaning too far forward and just sat in my chair.

"Better?"

"Better. What do you do here?"

I took a breath.

"And don't give me the whole detective looking into the occult stuff that's cheaply printed on your business card."

I couldn't remembering giving her my card, I couldn't be sure I even had a card, I didn't think so, but she had nailed me anyway.

"There's a point when the answer to everything you don't believe is something you believe even less."

"You think I'm going to accept that kind of rubbish?"

"Do you think I'm going to accept yours?" I spat angrily and she sat back in surprise. "You want the truth, but if I told you, you would say it was a lie, so what's the point?"

I sat back in frustration.

"The point? The point is that an innocent man might go to prison."

"He's going to go to prison anyway," I said adding to the force by sitting forwards again.

"Why?" she asked also sitting forwards across the desk.

"Oh, come on," I shouted to no one as I sat back. Ahh, not no one, but no one was going to intervene here.

I composed myself before continuing.

"The only hope is to find the people that did do this and that won't happen before a judge sends him down and even then..." I trailed off.

"Even then?"

"OK. OK. I'll tell you what I do here and then you can laugh at me, you can get angry at me that I'm not a help to you and then you'll leave and I can get on with it."

"Just make sense," she flared.

"It's not going to make sense, that's my point. Look, this sacrifice, the reason it was so public was to attract attention, a certain attention. It was to show that the people who did this are willing to go all the way."

"You've said this already, but to who?"

"Demons," I laid it out plainly and tensed for the slap in the face.

"Demons?" she barked a laugh. "You're right I am angry."

"Then we're done, the only reason you have to think this man is innocent is me and now you think I'm yanking your chain. Now you can go out with a clear conscious knowing that all the evidence points to him."

"No," she said quietly. "No, you're right. You are the only person to question this and as a policewoman I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't follow through every lead. No matter how ridiculous."

"I can wear that."

"So tell me what you do. You said I would leave and you'd do your job, what is it?"

"You know much of the Bible?" I asked.

"I stopped going to church in my teens."

"Then you have some idea. They talk about it in church, but they don't ever really talk about it. The spiritual battle. Paul talks about it and Revelations talks about a war in Heaven. It's all true."

"But the Devil loses, he's in Hell."

"No. No, not yet. The Devil is on Earth; and yes, Revelations talks about his ultimate loss, but do you think he hasn't read that? Do you think he is just waiting for that to happen?"

"No. He's tempting people, turning them away from God to take them with him."

"He is, yes, you're right, but he is also trying to find ways to beat it. He's still trying to find ways to win the war and Earth is just as caught up in that war as Heaven is. Ephesians 6 verse 12."

"Are you telling me you fight the Devil?"

"Yup," I said in my earnest voice.

"Oh come on," she sat back and tried to laugh until she looked me in the eyes. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"It doesn't matter, does it? You'll go and do your thing and I'll do mine."

"But you think there'll be another murder."

"Probably, but the fact that you got the evidence suggests a demon saw the murder and made sure that it was pinned on someone. They were smart, making it look like Voodoo, but they couldn't have played with evidence, it would have led straight back to them."

"You're saying a demon planted the evidence to this man?"

"It's pretty watertight, isn't it?"

"It is. Everything says it's legit except for the speed and, frankly, it's watertightness. Nothing's ever this easy."

"No?"

"Not like this. We've got a complex, ritual murder that suddenly leads to the damning evidence of a person who wasn't even a suspect before."

"Look, this has become dangerous, a demon is already involved, but I need something from you, two things. I need to see the crime scene and I need to know everything about the Aimee Peters case."

"I can't do that," she protested.

"I need to know, it's important, it's linked. You have two murders and you don't even know it."

She looked at me.

"I can try."

"And then you have to drop this. People think Satan is like God, that he is everywhere, but he isn't, his demons aren't. The more you look into this, the more attention you attract and they will attack. For now you are safe. I hope."

"I'm not saying I believe any of this, but I'm not leaving this to you. If there is any chance of stopping another murder, I'm not going to just drop it," she said firmly.

"You have to," I replied.

"No. You don't get to tell me what to do. If this could stop another murder then you need someone who knows what they are doing," she said.

"Amen," came the reply from Adelaide.

Man, I had to remember to shut the door.
CHAPTER FIVE

I was asleep, or the best version of it that I got, when the room beyond my eyelids filled with white light. The first time this happened I was terrified. Now? Not so much.

"It's not as if I sleep well anyway," said without opening my eyes.

"This is serious."

"So is sleep, lack of it can lead to hallucinations."

"Things are happening."

"Not sleep though. Can't you just come to the office like everyone else?"

"Harker."

"OK. OK," I opened my eyes, didn't bother looking at the clock (it said 3AM, by the way) and sat up.

He wasn't terrifying anymore, but he, and all like him, was still awesome. In the true use of the word. He sat in a chair in the corner of the room. I'd put that chair there because having them standing, or worse pacing, was even more unsettling. He wore simple clothes, though I'm sure they didn't wear such Earthly garbs up in Heaven, and every inch of him shone in a bright white light. It filled the room, but didn't hurt the eyes.

"Things are happening," he said again.

"So you said."

"Do you have anything?"

"I have messages via Ouija board now."

"Be serious," he exasperated. "Your banter..."

"Yeah, it's been mentioned, thanks. Look, what I've got really depends on what you've got."

"Skirmishes from the Kingdom of the Air. Nothing much, but a sense that something is happening there. Things are unsettled and there is increased activity on Earth."

"I've got two murders, one seems to be a message to that Kingdom, a message that people are willing to work with them. The other I don't know much about yet, but there are mentions of Solomon's Codex and Phillippe's Box. Both of which seem to contain information about reaching demons."

"Yes," Michael said thoughtfully.

"But?"

"But there are whispers around Centaine's Last Theorem and more so, writings of a Seventh Son."

"He's not in a place to use such things, he has no real power," I reminded.

"I know that, Harker," Michael scorned.

"So what's the issue?"

"That he might make a try at getting that power."

"What does it matter? The Almighty won't allow it to happen."

"No, He won't, but He would have to do something to stop it. If you don't. And that could mean hundreds or thousands of lives lost to regain the balance."

"At least one demon has helped this group, made sure another was charged with the crime," I said.

"Then you have to cut it off now. You have to find these people and stop whatever it is that they are doing. You can see where this will lead."

"What's in the box?" I asked.

"What?"

"What's in the box?"

"I do not know."

"Come on, Michael."

"As far as I am aware, and I do not fill my time with such things, it has something to do with seeing angels and demons," he admitted.

I was impressed by his candour, though wasn't sure I believed him.

"I can see angels and demons, can't be that big of a deal."

"So it would seem," he cast a withering eye over me. "But you were given that ability, as were those before you and, hopefully, those after you. That means it must exist in the world, but it cannot be for everyone."

"But if people could see, then they'd know that God existed and they'd join us."

"No," he shook his head sadly. "You know that is not true. It is the one thing I like about you, deep down your heart is good, wholly good, but not everyone is like that."

I should have been happy with that compliment, but I was never happy. I was too used to being a grump.

"Sides would be taken, the Final War would begin," Michael said.

"So what do you want me to do?" I asked.

"All of this is still hearsay, you must find these people, find out about the Box and the Codex and stop it before it begins."

"Sounds easy," I said.

He looked at me.

"I trust in you."

"Really? You do? I feel all warm and fuzzy inside," I grinned.

"I do, I do not know why I do, but I do because He does and He formed you. Do not ask me why, but He did."

"He has taste."

And then I was sitting on my bed in a dark room. I felt around for the light and got up.

You'd think a guy in my position would be the holiest of the holy, I mean while others worked on faith, I knew that God was real, well, I knew angels and demons were real because I'd met them, but one thing leads to another, right? If they all existed then so did God. But I've always suffered with depression and in my teens I took to the bottle to try and cope with it. It's funny that part of my depression was a feeling of a calling that never came and then when it did come, you'd think I'd leave the bottle behind. And I did. For a while. But you see some messed up things and once again I found myself using the bottle to deal with it. The fact that I do, the fact that I did, has always then made me hate myself, depression ain't nothing if not a spiral. I hate myself for drinking, but drink to forget what I hate about myself.

I should be standing in the Glory of God, using the armour that he hands us to cope with these things. I should use prayer, hope, faith and love to cope like so many of the people I've met in churches, and yet. And yet, I just always seem to fail. Again, you'd think someone who knew God existed would be the one to be the most holy, the one who really could live up to the expectations because he knew everything to be true.

But I failed.

We all fail, us Christians, that's kind of the point, but, man, I hated myself for it and that led me back to the bottle. I've mentioned spirals, right?

I had always wanted a purpose in life, I had always wanted to live a life for Christ, but when it came I struggled to handle it. Geez, I sound whiney, I guess I am whining. That and trying, once again, to justify why I'm drinking whiskey.

I sat in my favourite chair, which wasn't much of a stretch as I only had two and a sofa. I kinda felt bad for the other chair and tried to sit in it from time to time, but tonight wasn't one of those times. I stared at the glass of amber nectar in my hand before gulping it down.

Talking with an angel is a tough thing for anyone, I often thought on the guts and soul of someone like Mary or Joseph who met with angels and took it in their stride. Abraham who argued for the sparing of Sodom and that was actually God. He argued with God himself. Well, we've all done that, haven't we, but he argued face-to-face. Surely he knew who it was; what a man. I swallowed my whiskey admitting that I wasn't that man.

I refilled my glass and tried to justify why I was drinking again. I'd been through this before, knew what was coming. Or thought I did; the last time had been brought up recently. The house of the Police Captain. I don't know why they chose me, maybe they didn't; maybe I just happened to get involved. I wasn't' anyone special.

I'd been in another war, but at the time I had been intel, not a soldier, no one important. Other than that I had just dealt with demons. You should know that there're a lot of demons out there and they don't all hang out together. Geez, that's a horrible thought.

What I'm trying to say is that I was known, but I wasn't that well known, it wasn't likely that word of me and my awesome powers had spread. Mostly because I didn't have awesome powers.

The point I'm not making very well was what started at the Captain's house was more than demons, it was the Fallen and for some reason they chose to mess with me.

I went into that house expecting the same-old-same-old and was surprised that a policeman had called me in. I had assumed it was the wife, it's usually the wife calling me in secret, and was impressed he had taken it on himself,. In turn, he was surprised that I was trying to talk him out of it. I told him I sold peace of mind and he told me he could do with some.

He told me all the normal stuff and I had to admit that there seemed to be a lot together. The usual flickering lights and banging of pipes, stuff allegedly moving, voices, footsteps, but it was uncommon to come across them all in my usual cases. That's because ghosts don't exist, I mentioned that, right?

Of course, this was all stuff that he said had happened and so I had to ask the question that I always asked. Why? Why would ghosts or demons want to haunt you?

I started the question, but it died on my lips as we walked past the dining room. He was between me and the door so I couldn't help seeing in as we passed and, as I say, my throat dried up. I stopped and pushed past him into the doorway. In the room the table and chairs had been arranged so that, from the doorway, they were in an inverted cross. He stood slightly behind me as we both couldn't fit in the doorway and so I stepped in and turned to look at him.

"Nothing to do with me," he protested, reading the question on my face.

I wasn't convinced and pushed past him.

"Why would I do that?" he asked following me down the hall.

"I don't know," I replied in my best unconvinced voice.

I stopped in the kitchen where we were going to find coffee. We found it alright, spread on the spacious kitchen floor, again in the form of an inverted cross.

"Doesn't really work if we stand anywhere but the doorway," I commented.

"What's that smell?" he asked with disgust.

The faint aroma of rotting meat. I sighed.

And then a dog growled loudly from down the hall and I turned and ran back that way.

"We don't own a dog," the Captain called as he followed.

Back at the dining room and all the chairs were laying on their backs and the table had a white substance on it, like salt left from dried seawater. I surveyed the room as I scratched my throat with the back of my fingers. Then I moved to rubbing the stubble on my chin. By now the Captain had caught up and I moved into the room so he too could enter.

"Believe me now?"

"Kinda," I shrugged.

There was a buffet along the left wall and all the picture frames upon it were face down and the cutlery was rattling inside the drawer.

"Spooky," I mocked.

"You don't take this seriously?" he asked bewildered.

"You mean rattling cutlery? Not really, do you?"

"Well," he was lost for words, maybe they were in the cutlery drawer. "Yes, I mean, yes, I do."

"Let's look at the other rooms, I mean every room you have."

"Shall we start upstairs?"

"Why not?" I made an after you gesture and we left the room.

I stopped at the door and looked back.

"I play the spoons," I told the room.

The cutlery rattled harder and then stopped. Maybe they'd heard my rendition of 'When I'm Cleaning Windows'. I followed the Captain.

Upstairs was as nicely furnished and appointed as downstairs, but the house still had a nice lived in feel. I kinda hated that feeling, it reminded me that my own apartment lacked it. It definitely had a lived in feel, but in that dirty, pants on the floor; washing in the sink; rats that considered themselves flatmates and tried to demand a say on things kinda way. Until they paid rent they had no say on what we watched on TV and I've been quite clear on that.

Three bedrooms for three kids, two girls and a boy in a girl-boy-girl formation.

"They sleeping alright?" I asked.

"No, not really. Sometimes they wake up with nightmares, sometimes they thrash, toss or turn in bed, but don't wake up."

"And you?" I asked walking around the oldest girl's room.

"Other than what I told you? Not really, I mean I've seen terrible things as a cop, you can't really have nightmares."

I looked back at him.

"I guess not."

"The wife though, she has. She really freaked out when she woke up and found that she was trying to beat me on the chest. I was holding her wrists when she woke up. She's still not gotten over it and refuses to tell me what she dreamt of. Says she can't remember," he shook his head sadly.

"Hm," I nodded.

There was nothing out of the ordinary in the room, as far as I knew teenage girl's bedrooms. Which was zero.

"Er, anything out of the ordinary here?"

"I don't really know, I can't see anything. I don't look too closely, she barely lets me in at the moment. Teenagers," he shrugged in helplessness.

"I understand," I said. I didn't.

We walked into the son's room, the middle child. Early teenager, posters on the walls of bands I hadn't heard of and video games that I had. He had a TV and a games console in his room. I crouched down and flicked through his games, I had most of them but considered asking to borrow one.

I got up and looked at the bookshelf, fairly ordinary. I went to the small desk, homework on the top. I opened drawers and flicked through, feeling guilty for doing so. At the bottom of the bottom drawer was a stack of papers. I only saw them because they looked like they had been stuffed there. I pulled them out and sat on the bed to flick through them. They were drawings, but they weren't nice.

"What are they?" the Captain asked and I handed them to him. "No," he gulped.

"It's not your son, Sir, it's automatic drawing."

"What?" he continued to stare at the grotesque images.

"Like automatic writing?"

No response.

"Psychography. It's writing without thinking and some say the words come from the subconscious while others say it comes from a spiritual or supernatural source."

"Talk sense," he looked up at me.

"He's drawing his dreams. He's not drawing this consciously, but falling into a trance state and drawing. It's not your son."

"Then who is it?"

I sighed and rubbed my throat with the back of my fingers. A deep, menacing bark came from downstairs and he tensed. I took the drawings and shoved them into a pocket.

"He'll notice they've gone," the Captain complained.

I could see his point, he didn't want his son thinking he was going through his room. But he was, so...

"I doubt it. He probably doesn't even remember doing them," I looked around once more and then walked out of the door.

The last room was the youngest daughter's. She wasn't yet a teen and the room reflected it. It was very pleasant if you liked pink and fluffy. I had a poke around, but couldn't see anything. I didn't expect to either, the room had a different aura to it, it was too good, too pure, like a barrier to whatever evils were going on in the rest of the house.

We went back to the oldest girl's room and I poked around to see if there was anything like in the son's. I found a diary and flicked through it and the Captain was so embarrassed that he stepped outside. There was nothing unusual about it, or at least I assumed not. Apparently teenage girl's minds are an odd place to start with. There were a few things out of place, but nothing as alarming as the pictures and so I put it back in its hiding place and, shaking my head at the Captain, left the room. We went into his room last and he was more confident at pointing things out. Like his wife's underwear that was shredded and spread out over their bed. He just stared at it.

"Anything else?"

"What? No," he said and then started looking around to be sure. "Everything seems normal, except," he waved at the bed.

Something thumped downstairs and he jumped a little.

"It's never been like this," he said and he was visibly shaken.

"No."

"What do we do?" he almost pleaded.

"First we get the house back in order, then you guys are going to take a holiday somewhere. One week."

"I can't just..."

"You need to if you want this sorted. Tell the family it's rats or something and you all have to stay in a hotel if you don't want to go too far."

"When we come back, will this all still..."

"No," I shook my head.

"How can you know?"

"I'm an expert, remember? Why you called me and all that."

"Yes. I suppose, you are," he said gaining more composure.

"Don't worry, Captain, I can sort this," I reassured with my bestest smile.

"You can?"

Ha! Who knows? This was serious stuff. Probably not, to be honest, I hadn't much of a clue where to start.

"Yup," still smiling.

I got up out of my chair and left the bottle of whiskey on the counter as I stumbled to bed and fell into a dark and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER SIX

"You look happy to be awake," Garrett said coming through the door.

"I had a late night caller," I rasped.

"Oooh."

"Not the 'oooh' kind."

"Are you OK?" she asked concerned.

"Not that type either. A friend. Of sorts. Acquaintance, if you will."

"I don't care," she said sitting. "We can go to the crime scene now if you're ready."

"But you just sat down."

She stood up.

I stood too.

"I guess I'm ready then," we walked through the door. "Adelaide, I'm going out."

"Good, it'll give me a chance to clean your office," she said from behind her desk.

"Really?" I asked with hope.

"No."

I drooped.

"I knew that."

The day outside was clear but cold and people hustled and bustled as only people in cities can. It's mainly about the rudeness, good to know if you've just moved to a city and need to fit in. We crossed the river of people like Moses, if Moses had had to push his way through and get elbowed twice, and arrived at her car. She was surprisingly unscathed while I looked like I had just trekked the jungles of Borneo.

"Nice car."

"Company."

"Are the Police a company?"

"No," she scowled.

"So police car then," I offered helpfully.

"Just get in," she said from the other side.

We drove for nearly an hour, but most of that was traffic congestion until we ended up in a suburban neighbourhood.

"Leafy," I commented.

"The Great Detective."

"I like to keep my skills honed."

"How did you get into this?"

"I thought you invited me?"

"Not this. This. Being a detective?"

"Can't remember."

She looked at me, but I looked out of the window until she pulled to the kerb.

"Here," she said and got out.

I followed her out and got buffeted by the wind for my troubles. I hadn't dressed for a day out as I try to avoid it wherever possible. I leant back in and grabbed my bag and shut the door.

"How'd you find the body?"

"House was for sale, estate agent brought a couple to look at it. They didn't buy the house," she grimaced.

"I can imagine."

We walked up to the house, it didn't have a 'for sale' sign outside and I was guessing they weren't trying too hard just yet awhile.

"There won't be much to see, everything got cleaned up."

"I'm not looking for the same things you were," I replied.

"It was a thorough clean."

"I know. I'm not expecting much, but I need to look, I can't leave a lead unchecked."

"Just like a real detective," she smirked.

"Open the door. Detective."

She fitted a key and we walked in. The place was bright and empty, ready to be filled in prospective buyer's minds with stuff they would probably never buy. It was a nice house by the look of it and the bay windows in the lounge flooded it with light, but it felt dark. It felt wrong.

"It was in here, the body against that wall there, it's amazing no one saw it through the window," Garrett said and I looked from wall to window.

"People keep to themselves," I said, but considered magic.

Yeah, magic. That's real, but not in the form you're probably thinking of. Point is that if magic had been used then there would be signs of it. Still, not in there. As the lady said, the cleaning crews were good, the place was spotless.

"You feel that?" I asked her.

"What?"

"Nothing?"

She looked around the room.

"It's kind of drab," she frowned with a little shrug.

"It's not though, is it? It's bright and airy."

"I suppose, what are you getting at?"

"That you think it's drab and dreary because that's how you're feeling. The room, the house, has got a foreboding feeling to it, a depressive vibe."

To her credit she took the time to sift through her feelings and look around the room and back through the door.

"So what causes it?"

"Nasty presences."

"There's something here?" she jumped away from the door.

"No, cool it. It's residual."

"Right," she said and I watched her body relax and develop an embarrassed stance. "So what are we looking for?"

"Dunno," I said kneeling down to look at the skirting board. "The clean-up crew were thorough."

"Like I said."

"You did too. Good for you."

I stood and looked at the wall from different angles, trying to get the sunlight to reveal anything. I wandered around the room, sort of unfocussed, letting my eyes roam, until they settled on the window sill. I walked over to it and looked at the clean white paint. Nothing to see, but I got down and looked underneath. There wasn't much of an overhang, but I thought I could make something out so got up and pulled a torch from my bag and went back.

Yup. The underneath had what looked like symbols or letters scratched into it, but they were too small for me to discern properly and parts were worn or washed away by the activity of the cleaning crew.

"Something?"

"Maybe," I said getting back up.

She was standing in the middle of the room and still seemed uneasy. It was the vibe of the place, now that I had pointed it out, but I also think she was spooked.

"We need to check the rest of the house," I said.

"Why? It all happened in here."

"Yes, but there might be more to it."

"The house was checked, there wasn't anything."

"Nothing that you guys were looking for."

I walked back out into the hallway and then to the kitchen at the back of the house. It was nice, well laid out with plenty of workspace and kitchen tops.

"What are you thinking?" she asked from behind me.

"It's a nice kitchen, plenty of workspace, but I prefer gas hobs," I said and walked out past her.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" she called from down the hall.

"I've heard rumours," I called back as I reached the bottom of the stairs.

I stopped there, I didn't know what it was, just a feeling. The house was definitely empty, I'd know if something was lurking around. Or at least I thought I would, I'd been surprised by demons before, but I was reasonably sure that I'd feel one in a confined space such as a house. That being said I was tense as I walked up the stairs. Garrett had rushed to join me, seems she didn't like the house much either.

I stopped half way up and knelt down.

"Appreciating more of the fittings?" she sarcasticised from behind me.

I tucked my finger into where the flat of the step met the horizontal of the next higher and ran my finger along. Hard to clean area and my finger came back with a dusting of the same salt substance that I had seen at the Captain's house. Something had been here. I showed her.

"Interesting dirt," she said.

"Very. It's a by-product from jumping dimensions. Well, more from reaching out from one into this one."

"Jumping dimensions?" all eyebrows raised in mockery.

"More reaching out."

"Right," she elongated the 'i' and I turned and continued up the stairs.

Not much in the first two bedrooms nor the bathroom, but the last one held me. It was pretty much directly above the lounge and I was expecting to find something here if anywhere. Was that what I was feeling? My own expectation? I looked around, looked closely, but couldn't see anything. I rubbed at my throat in the usual manner and scanned the room again.

There was something here, I knew it, I could feel it, but I couldn't see it. It was just an empty room with white painted walls and a cream carpet. A perfect canvas for the buyer's imagination.

"Same as the others," Garrett said and I held a hand up to silence her. "Whatever," she moped.

It was perfect, such a good job, except... except... I looked around again, up and down. Yes. There.

I walked over to the window and knelt down below it. Without the light on, this part of the carpet would be in shadow and even with the light on it would be ignored due to the overhang of the window sill. Whoever had been here had been clever, but I had found it because I was looking for something, anything. And here it was.

"What?" Garrett asked coming over.

"Carpet tacks, you wouldn't notice it if you weren't looking. You wouldn't notice if the rest of the house wasn't so perfect."

"What about them?" she pushed for a real answer.

"They've been taken up and hammered back in, not well though, the claw of the hammer has bent them."

I got up and pushed past her to my bag in the middle of the room.

"That's it? The carpet isn't nailed down well enough for you?"

"It's all we need," I replied fumbling through my bag.

I loved my bag, it was in many ways magical. It always had the right tools for the right job, whatever I put in or took out, I always had what I needed. Unless it wasn't tools that I needed; that was the thing with The Big Man Upstairs, he always supplied you with what you needed even if it wasn't what you thought you needed.

I came back with a hammer that I had put in last week for something hammery and used the claw to pull out the tacks.

"Help me with this," I instructed and together we pulled and rolled back the carpet.

"What the hell is that," she awed.

"Keep going."

We got the whole picture uncovered and stood back.

"So?"

"It's a pretty picture."

"They'll never sell the house after two murders," she warned me.

"It's a seal. Lots of magical markings, serious stuff. Lots of other stuff too, their own invention."

"What's it supposed to do?"

"Like a gateway or magnet. This stuff over here, that's part of that. This stuff is part of a contract."

"A contract?"

"A basic one, just saying who they are and, y'know, 'we want in in this capacity'," I scanned the rest of the picture.

I was going to need a photo of it; I needed to be able to see the whole thing.

"Sorry, capacity?"

"Let's come back to that. We need a ladder," my bag wasn't big enough to fit one, but if it were, I bet I'd have one now.

"To photograph it?"

I nodded whilst looking at the seal.

"I'll go back to the station, I want to bring back a camera too. You coming?"

"No," I looked at her. "I need to start trying to translate what I can, hard with something this big, but speed is important."

She looked unsure about leaving me there. The air was still heavy with dread and foreboding.

"It'll be fine, nothing a bit of air freshener won't fix," I said and she shook her head in despair.

"I'll be back."

I didn't watch her go, but heard the front door shut. I was already on my knees on the floorboards. It seemed at first look to be painted on, but I knew that analysis would bring up blood and faecal matter mixed in with the paint. I'd have to work out a way of getting some of the paint up to see if the blood matched the victim downstairs.

I stood up and tried to take in the seal as a whole. It was a circle with three decreasing circles inside. Inside the smallest circle was a spiral. In between the other circles were pictures, runes and letters, though only some of them were from an Earthly language. That language was Hebrew, used as a sort of joke that it is a Heavenly language. It's a lot of work to learn just to take the mick, but it showed that these guys were serious.

Around the outside of the seal were more runes and pictures and it was there that I started. These were 'containers' they contained the magic of the rune within it, one mess up of those and you could get yourself in some serious trouble.

I had an issue with one once; whoever had done it hadn't used the right combination of runes in one part and the magic was seeping out. Worse still they'd botched other parts making it difficult to work out what magic exactly was seeping out. Big storm that night, big fight with an angry demon and nothing but a pile of ashes left of the warehouse by morning.

Everything looked good here though, very professional. I was as impressed as I get, which isn't very, if I'm honest. I moved in a ring and this was where things got interesting as it told of who the people were. Once again they were smart and said nothing directly, nothing you could read and use to track them. That worried me; it suggested they knew there were people like me around.

The final ring before the central spiral was about what they wanted, what they were offering; it was the deal maker, basically. This was what the demon wanted to know, what it got out of it. It was also the most complicated to read as it involved a certain style of language. I felt dread when I made out the word 'box'.
CHAPTER SEVEN

"What now?" Garrett asked in the car.

I looked out at the house.

"Now we go?"

"Where?"

That was something I'd been thinking. For her it was over, even though she didn't know it yet. She'd returned and we'd both taken photos using the ladder to get above the seal. That had taken another hour. I had to make sure that I could overlap the photos to be able to read the circles as one complete sentence. She just wanted to get it in one shot with a few close ups and got increasingly agitated at how long I was taking.

Seems Detective Garrett was a get-goer, probably relaxed on the weekends by doing sport. I took a quick look at her when I thought of this and clocked her as a martial artist; it was in that loose-but-ready stance. Probably did more than all the others, feeling that she needed to prove herself as a woman in a male dominated profession. Couldn't blame her for that, I was a male in a demon dominated profession.

I should have been a shrink, any job that includes a couch as part of the gig is alright by me. Adelaide got rid of my old office couch due to 'spending too much time napping'. It was procrastination at worse, deep thinking at best, I argued and she laughed at the notion of me thinking. I tried meditation, she scoffed at that and the next day the couch was replace by a little corner thingy before I got to work.

Garrett was even more impatient when I started praying over the seal; not one for the power of prayer either. But it was powerful, powerful and important; it was the only way to cleanse the seal of it's black magic, to purify it. She wouldn't know it, but the seal would degrade and disappear over the next few days. Thinking on it, I probably should have mentioned that, she'd look like an idiot bringing fellow officers over to see it and find it gone.

Oh, and you should have seen Garrett's face when I went out and walked in the garden before coming back and shaking the dirt from my shoes over the spiral in the centre and then at the front door again.

Back to the present, I decided to give her the choice.

"Look, it's over for you," I said as apologetically as I could muster.

"What? I think you're confusing yourself," she started.

"Listen, this isn't getting your man off the hook and even if it does clear him, the case will go cold."

"What are you talking about? Of course it won't; listen here, you have no idea what you're talking about..."

"No," I interrupted with my best annoyed teacher voice, "you don't understand. There are other forces, forces that don't want anyone looking into this. You got your suspect, you got your evidence and now you're supposed to forget about it. If you don't prosecute this guy then the trail goes cold and the same forces will do their best to convince your powers-that-be to keep it that way."

"Forces, forces? Can you hear yourself? I'm not letting this go, even if I'm told to," she jabbed a finger at me.

"Cool," I shrugged and told her the Librarian's address.

†

"Hello?" I called cheerily through the shelves.

"What the hell is this place?" Garrett asked with a note of amazement.

"Well he's called the Librarian, so..."

She stopped and looked at me, I could see the thought of hitting me pass across her eyes. And then come back, linger, and finally pass.

"Some library," she said instead.

"It is, it is," I grinned. "Hello?"

"About time, do you have the information we need?" he called from somewhere amongst the shelves.

"Yes and no. Where are you?"

"Come back when it's yes and yes," he called irritably.

"I brought a guest."

"What?" he suddenly appeared and seemed rather angry at me.

"We were hoping the restaurant would be open," I smiled.

"Well, you know that... Oh, funny. Who is she? This isn't..."

"A place for just anyone," I finished for him. "I know."

"Because I have to keep reminding you."

"It's never been a problem before," I took a second to think. "Except that one time."

"Yes," he spat, "that one time, that one time that nearly killed us all."

"He's exaggerating," I assured Garrett. "You're exaggerating. Anyway, this is Detective Garrett, she's been giving me info on the not-Voodoo murder."

"Oh, well, nice to meet you. I'm sorry for my manners," he said to her.

"Forget it, I get the feeling he makes everyone mad."

"Oh, he does. Annoying people is his forte."

"Soup," I said.

"What?" she asked.

"I thought soup was my forte."

She just shook her head at me.

"What have you got?" the Librarian asked.

"Pictures. Of a seal," I told him.

"From the murder site?"

"On the floor in the room above. Hidden under a carpet, cunning detective work was the order of the day."

"Do be quiet," he shook his head, "and come to the office."

We followed him through and Garrett struggled to take everything in.

"Was that a hand in a jar?" she whispered.

"Don't ask."

We got into his office and I handed over my camera for him to upload the photos. Once he had, he was engrossed.

"We're still here," I said.

"Yes," he said distantly, not looking up from the screen.

"Didn't come here for this," I said.

"Hm? What then?"

"Detective Garrett. She wants to know this is serious."

"I do?"

"Yup. All that 'not dropping it' stuff in the car."

"It's serious," the Librarian said, finally looking up at her. "More serious than we thought by the look of this seal."

"See?"

"What have you found out about that other murder?"

"Aimee Peters," I told him.

"Now hang on, this is still police business," Garrett objected.

"Maybe," the Librarian mused, "but now it's also our business."

"Dramatic, isn't it?"

"And what exactly is it?" she asked him.

"He hasn't told you?" he looked at me.

"He says he fights the Devil. He says it's the work of demons."

"Yes, yes," he nodded at her. "These people are trying to get a demon on their side for some reason, we suspect they might have found an artefact that the Fallen could use in their war."

"The Fallen?"

"Fallen angels."

"You mean the demons?"

"No," he shook his head irritably. "Haven't you told her these things?"

"What happened to not being a place for just anyone?" I asked him, but he ignored me.

"Harker will explain everything, I'm sure, but for now we need to know about this other murder. What's important is that these people are sycophants, perhaps Avatars and they are very knowledgeable. We already know the lengths they are willing to go to. Very dangerous people. You need to find them," he finished urgently.

"Me or her?"

"Both of you."

"Oh no," she protested. "You wouldn't work with him, would you?"

"Well, no, that's why I'm sending you," he told her.

"You're not my boss, you know?" I said.

"Don't be childish."

"It's my forte," I replied.

†

We walked the block back to her car. After finding the seal I was uneasy about leading someone to the Library. It was standard procedure once we were on a case. Not that it mattered too much, the Librarian could handle himself and the building was protected through a number of prayers. Plus CCTV.

We got into the car and she pulled out into light traffic.

"We can't go to the station," she said.

"Embarrassed by me?" I frowned.

"They'd want to know why I'm sharing case details with you. Hell, it isn't even my case."

"Can you get the details?" I asked seriously.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I'll tell 'em I think the two cases are linked."

"How will you spin that?"

"I'm not mentioning the annoying private eye who deals in ghosts and goblins, don't worry."

"I wasn't."

"You don't seem to and that annoys me."

"I'm starting to think it's more you than me. Maybe I'm actually really easy to get on with."

"You're not."

"I'll wait for a second opinion," I thought of the Librarian. "Third opinion."

"What I mean is that if all this is true then you're up against a lot worse than anything I've ever faced and yet you seem blasé about it."

"What're you going to do?" I asked and she didn't reply. "That was a real question. There's not much I can do about it."

"How did you get into all of this then?"

"That's not the question."

"What is?"

"Who are we up against is a more pressing question."

"I can think of an even more pressing question," she replied.

"If it's 'who's in that white car and why are they following us?' then I think they're connected."

"I was waiting to see if you'd to notice it."

"I was waiting for you to mention it," I replied.

"You're testing my skills?" she said with a trace of ire.

"You're testing mine," I shrugged as well as one can in a car seat.

"Well, we both passed then, didn't we?" she said irately.

"Hurrah! Everyone wins," I cheered.

"So who are they?"

"Beats me. The same people who've been watching us since the murder scene."

"You saw them then?"

"Didn't you?"

"Parked across and slightly down the street."

"Mmm, watching the house."

"They were expecting us?"

"Or just being vigilant; just in caseys. Questions, questions."

"Will the Librarian be OK?"

"I didn't notice anyone follow us on foot."

"Me neither."

"Then I guess so. No one outfoxes two detectives."

"So who are they? The Librarian... Does he have a name?"

"Librarian Something?" I guessed. "Mr. Librarian?"

"You've never asked?"

I gave her my best innocent face.

"He said something about sycophants."

"Sickos, right. They're people who want to work with demons. Then you have Avatars who want to be possessed by them."

"Possessed?"

"Yeah, demons can't spend too much time on this plane, not good for them to be seen anyway, might turn people to God. That's why they possess people and some people let them."

"Why would anyone do that?"

"Get the benefits, if you can call them that. Depends what your kicks are, I guess. Mostly they're strong willed, believe they can keep control. Some can."

"So what do we do? We can't keep driving around in circles."

"No."

"Very helpful," she scorned.

"Well, we're done for anyway, aren't we? They've got your licence plate by now."

"And you?"

"Oh, they'll work that out if they haven't already."

"So what then?"

"Drop me off at the office?"

"I don't like running away," she said firmly.

"You want to face them?"

"I'm not scared and if these are the ones who murdered that poor man..."

"Fair point, it is kinda your job."

"This is your field, what's the best way of dealing with them?"

"I actually think we should turn the tables. Get them behind us and then brake. They'll either hit us and we'll get them or they'll take off and we get to follow them."

"I know a good place," Garrett said turning left.

The car behind us accelerated to keep up and we were in luck as the traffic lights up ahead turned red. The car behind had no choice but to stop right behind us and Garrett managed to get a good look at the number plate though not such a good look at the people inside. Two men, she reckoned.

"Don't get out of the car, be ready to give chase," I warned her.

"You know how much I'd hate to leave you to walk all the way home," she grinned to herself.

The lights went green and she pulled away and gave enough time for the car behind to get moving before hitting the brakes. The car crashed into the back of ours at a low speed and I jumped out and was running back to it when it reversed enough to pull away and then, well, pulled away.

I was running back to the police car as Garrett pulled away, but she braked sharply as the car that had been following us was suddenly engulfed in flames. It careened out of control into a parked car that then also caught fire and exploded.

Garrett jumped out of the car as I reached it and we both ran as close to the fire as we could.

"What the hell happened?" she shouted over the din of fire and screaming.

I sagged.

"Self-immolation. They set themselves on fire."

"Why?"

"We were onto them. They couldn't be caught and this way they leave no trace as to who they were. No face, no fingerprints; no dental if it's hot enough. No leads."

"They are serious," she breathed. "You need to get out of here, I don't want you here when the cops arrive."

"Get me that info on Aimee Peters."

"I will, now just go."

As I walked away I saw her reach for her badge and heard her shouting that she was police. I didn't even get a block away before I heard the sirens.
CHAPTER EIGHT

We were behind the game. They were onto us, they wouldn't have set fire to that car unless they had sent information out to someone. We had to rock through the murders, we had to know about Aimee Peters and what, if anything, was happening with the Box and Codex, but there were more direct routes too.

The point of church, partly, is for Christians to meet up and hang out. It's good for us, even someone like me whose idea of being social is being home alone arguing with the rats over what channel to watch. As much as I hated the idea of it, I tried to stay for coffee afterwards to chat to people and I sometimes learned my best lessons there. Realised things that had been knocking around my brain or seeing something from a new perspective. Yeah, OK, I'll admit it, I also sometimes had fun. I enjoy a good conversation, though they seem to be coming harder to find in this world. Or I'm becoming more cynical. Probably the latter.

Satanists are the same, they like to get together and talk Satan-y stuff, but on the whole they still think Satan lives in Hell and has horns. Then you get the people who are a bit more serious, have some contact with demons, but are all about the hedonism. They meet in secret bars where they get drunk, do drugs, have sex and sometimes worse things. Neither of these come close to the bars where the sickos and Avatars hang out, those bars sometimes even attract demons. It's got to be one hell of a nasty party to get a demon to materialise.

It was this last kind of bar that I found myself at.

It was a seedy bar that normal people, even those looking for some seediness, walked into and then walked straight back out of. There were women dancing on little stages and along the walls were booths that had curtains that could be pulled across. The lighting was almost non-existent and it smelled of cigarette smoke, sweat and despair. This was where those hedonists went to party, but at the back was another door, this one guarded by a big, burly bouncer.

"You looking for trouble, Harker?" the bouncer asked.

"Me?"

"You."

"Come on, Kev, I don't look for trouble."

"It just finds you, yeah I know. From experience."

"Can I be blamed for that?" I asked all innocent-like.

"According to those inside? Yeah."

"But you can't trust them, can you?"

"They pay my wage, Harker. It's a good wage, you know I need the money," Kev said sadly.

I felt bad, he was right. He wasn't a bad guy, just a guy who needed to do what he had to in order to earn a living. He deserved double for having to stand in that bar all the time.

"Have I ever caused you trouble?"

He raised his eyebrows at that.

"Except that one time," I admitted.

"One time?"

"Come on, that other time doesn't count."

He sighed. People did that a lot around me.

"I can't deny you entrance."

"I know the magic word," I agreed.

"Don't keep calling it that, it's a password."

"Still magic."

"Alright, alright," he frowned and opened the door.

I wish he hadn't, I really did. The place was clean, but vile. It was the kind of place where the not-Voodoo murder could have been done in secrecy. Either they didn't know of these places, weren't allowed in or, I worried, were too serious for such places as this.

"Harker, you've got some nerve coming here," a man said standing from his seat.

I pushed him back down into it.

"Shut up, Phil."

There were women serving drinks and dancing, none of them were very dressed, if at all, and none of them looked as if they had chosen to be there. I got a lot of bad looks as I walked through, but no one was a stupid as Phil.

What you have to understand is that everyone was given free will, even the angels. Everyone therefore has the ability to come back to God if they want, He's not going to force you. It also means that people, and angels, have the right to be evil. In practical terms, that meant I couldn't just torch the place. You had to actually try to influence the War for someone like me to take you down. That didn't mean I was completely helpless, we Christians are commanded to destroy evil wherever we can, but through our acts of love and kindness. The sword is kept for those of the Kingdom of Air.

"You're in the wrong place, Harker," the bartender warned me.

"Because of my happy disposition?"

"I don't know where you left that, but it ain't here. As far as I know, nobody ain't ever seen it."

"Probably down the back of the sofa, though I won't be looking down the backs of the sofas here."

"You won't find anything you're looking for here, Harker."

"Oh no?"

"No."

"Not even a drink?"

"What makes you think I won't spike it?"

"You ever met my friends?"

He took an involuntary step back.

"I don't want to. I just work here, man."

"Then enough with the chat and more with the whiskey. The good stuff mind you. On the house, I presume."

"Of course," he said unwillingly.

As he turned to pour my drink I looked around the bar in the mirror that ran behind the bottles. Lots of doors leading off to private rooms where things happened that I don't like to think about. As ever I had the urge to go through the whole place and beat everyone out of it. No, let's be honest for a second, wipe them all off the face of the Earth.

But that was anger and I didn't deal in anger. Even righteous anger. It wasn't my place to deal that out unless He ordained it. Jesus got angry once. He whipped those who used the Temple as a place to rip people off, but it was His Temple. Other times he didn't stop the evils of men because that wasn't what He came to Earth to do. He came to save people's souls and I wouldn't be doing that by mass killing. I should be praying for them, but I wasn't that good of a Christian. Joe from church would have, would have probably converted a few of them, he was on fire for God. That made me feel miserable at how bad I was at spreading God's word, his love and forgiveness, but this wasn't the time to get morose. I had that time pencilled in for just before bed. As usual.

"There," the bartender said putting down a straight whiskey.

I picked up the drink and turned to face the room. It was half full and mainly contained people sitting at tables talking quietly. Probably making nefarious deals with each other. There was not one person in there that would want to help me out, but there were one or two who might be willing to help themselves out.

You see the whole War Against Heaven thing was not everyone's bag. They all wanted to win in the long run, but they weren't all that concerned about trying to make it happen too soon. A lot of them had pretty sweet deals going on and an actual victory to either side would put an end to that.

The humans just couldn't imagine another dimension where they might live if the World ended, they didn't have the imagination. What they knew was money and power and they feared losing all that if the War was actually won. So they didn't necessarily want the World to end anytime soon, life was good.

And there were some who were just resigned to the future. Demons having a good time while they could and hoping the War might go their way when the end came. Demons hoping that if they didn't help then they might get to enjoy life on Earth indefinitely, ignoring the fact that God would call it quits one day, whether they liked it or not. In fact, some were happy to help the other side if they felt it might throw a spanner in the works and stop the war being won too soon.

My point is that some of the people in the bar might help me out if it diverted a large scale battle that might disrupt their businesses. I noted a table in the back corner and sauntered over. It really is the only way to travel.

"Get lost, Harker," said one burly looking man.

"Is that any way to greet a friend?" I looked offended.

"You ain't got no friends in this bar," a woman said.

"What? What about Bobby here?"

"What do you want, Harker? You only come here to cause trouble."

Bobby was an Avatar, a man possessed by a demon, but I didn't know which was in control. From what I hear, Bobby was pretty mean to start with.

"Something's up. Some people are going round murdering people to get the attention of some of your lot. Phillippe's Box has come up. Bad for everyone, I reckon," I sipped my drink nonchalantly.

"You think we'd help you even if we knew?" the third and final man asked.

"I don't think you would, but then I wouldn't ask you, Geoff, would I? What help would a lowly maggot such as yourself be?"

"Watch your tongue," he rasped back.

"Shush now, adults are talking."

"This is how the trouble starts, Harker," Bobby said.

"Meh," I replied. "The only one who thinks Geoff is trouble is Geoff.

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to this," Geoff whined.

"Shut up, Geoff, the man's right," the woman said.

Geoff leaned back and sulked.

"Try Farouq, I hear he heard something about it recently," Bobby said. "You're right, Harker, we don't need this right now. In either realm."

"You've been too kind, Bobby."

"Just get out before trouble starts."

I walked away, but something bugged me about the way he said that last sentence. It wasn't just the normal Harker-causes-trouble shtick. They were here. There was no way I could stay and check, no one would lift a hand to help me if I bumped into them. I also couldn't make out I was scared, I had a reputation to uphold, so I tried to do that fast-casual walk to the door. I got there in one piece and took one last look around and wished I hadn't. Coming through one of the doors back into the main bar was one of the Fallen. Dressed in a three piece suit and at least a head and shoulders taller than everyone else in the room, he looked at me and I looked at him. Our eyes met and as I turned and left, I swear he smiled.

I walked briskly down the street, trying to put as much distance between me and the bar. You didn't take on the Fallen lightly, you had to be prepared. Physically, mentally and spiritually; the Fallen would batter you in all three ways.

Dammit, I was ahead and behind. Ahead with the info I gleaned, the chance that Farouq might know something, but behind as I didn't know what that Fallen was doing in the bar. Was it a coincidence? Was he meeting with the people I was looking for? It wasn't often that the Fallen would involve themselves in the type of matters that were discussed in such bars. It was day to day running of things, imports and exports, supply and demand. War makes profit and this one was no different, another reason why certain people didn't want it to end.

But the Fallen didn't fall into that category, they wanted the War to come to a head, they wanted to fight a final battle and win. They wanted to storm the Gates of Heaven and take that bountiful land. I said humans couldn't imagine living in another dimension if the Fallen won, but the Fallen knew it all too well, knew, unlike the humans, that it was even better than this Earth. If they won. If they lost, well, then things were a lot worse. A lot more burny.

So that added to the things I needed to find out about, but I was more than happy to stick it at the bottom of the list. At the top was the seal and the murder of Aimee Peters. I headed back to the office.
CHAPTER NINE

"Well this is a turn up," I said walking into my office.

"Strange bedfellows times make," said the man sitting in my chair.

"You're not getting into my bed, it's bad enough I'm going to have to burn the chair."

"It looked more comfortable."

"It was. I liked that chair," I frowned.

"This is not the time to mess around," said the woman who, until that moment had been sitting in the client chair.

"Who's messing around? You want the chair now he's sat on it?"

"Well, no."

"Exactly. I'd just got it moulded to my body and everything."

"You don't seem surprised to see two old enemies sitting together in your office," the man said.

"Not together are you? You're in my chair. The one that I'm supposed to sit on. You didn't touch the desk did you?"

"Harker, this is serious," the woman said.

She was about my age with a shaven head and a black tracksuit zipped all the way up that included a hood that hung down her back. That worried me, she was dressed for action.

The man on the other hand was wearing a dark blue suit with a dark red ascot at the neck.

"Everything is serious to somebody, even comedy," I philosophised.

"Your attitude is annoying at best," the man said.

Good. I wanted to annoy them. It was petty perhaps, but I didn't like people coming in and acting like they owned the place. Acting like I was nothing, just a pawn to be shoved around as or when they saw fit.

"You could just leave then," I suggested.

"We think there may be a coup," the woman said.

"Cool," I said to hide my surprise, but I meant it too. "Makes our lives easier and his more difficult," I pointed my chin at the man.

"You only wish," the man smiled.

"Why should it bother me?"

"Because coups don't happen in the Kingdoms, they happen, or at least are planned, here on Earth," he said.

"No one's got the guts or ability to challenge the Snake, you both know that."

"And you know that's not true," she said.

"And they're not free," I countered.

"No," he said.

Dammit.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked her.

"Because you are asking questions, because things are coming to light and you may well find yourself involved," she said.

"I can uninvolve myself," I offered.

The man got up and walked around my desk, one finger trailing along it, defiling it.

"I do not think that is the plan for you. It will be good for no one," he said as he walked past me to the door.

"It won't be good for you and yours," I replied. "I don't think our Boss will be too concerned."

"No, I don't think He will be either. I think He'll let you all suffer through it, you and his angels, before stepping in."

"You don't know Him like I do then," I told him.

"No, I have no wish to," the man said and walked out of the door.

"He's a scumbag, Jules."

"And he's right."

"No he isn't."

"Not about that, but about us all suffering. He won't interfere, that's why He hired us."

"You got hired? With a contract and holiday pay and all that?"

"This is not the time to joke," she scolded.

"Who's joking?"

"Harker. People are talking about you. Bad people. Be careful."

With that she walked to the door.

"I'll be hearing from you?" I asked without turning.

"You can count on that," she said and left.

I walked around my desk and peered at the seat of my chair. I could hear muffled conversation from the reception area and then the outer door slam shut. I poked my chair.

Adelaide came in spraying air freshener.

"He sat in my chair," I moaned.

"We'll get you a new one," she soothed.

"I like this one."

"Then I'll clean it."

"Why'd you let them in anyway?" I looked up at her.

"It was important, the two of them coming together."

"I guess," I frowned at my chair.

"It means something else as well," she said.

"Does it?"

"Yes."

"That nothing's sacred?" I frowned.

"Will you shut up about the furniture? It means you're important."

"Me?"

"Why aren't they sorting this out themselves? The Venators or the demons?"

"'Cause it's a trap?"

"Maybe, but maybe it's because you're the one to get this done. You're better than them at this."

"Than the Venators?" I looked at her. "I don't think so."

"Well I do."

"It could be a trap," I thought out loud.

"They wouldn't get together to trap you, you're not that important."

"But what if they were using me as a pawn, getting me to do things they don't want to have to do themselves?"

"That sounds like them," she agreed, leaning on the door frame.

I rested a hand on the back of my chair, contemplating sitting on it and then perched on the edge of the desk.

"For now we continue on as normal. Which for you apparently means letting any old person enter my office."

"Funny. You should see the things I turn away," she grimaced and walked out.

I looked at my chair again. So comfortable. I thought about it before going back out of the door. I hadn't even managed to take my coat off.

†

I walked through the police station doing my best to ignore those inside while I looked for Garrett.

I'd ignored the receptionist and now someone was catching up to me politely saying 'excuse me, sir'. It wouldn't take much longer before I was tasered so I stopped and turned.

"Can I help you?" I asked importantly.

"Erm, well, no," he replied.

"Good, carry on then," I turned and kept walking through the open plan office.

"Hang on."

I turned.

"Yes?"

"Can I help you? What are you doing here?"

"Right. I'm looking for Detective Garrett."

"Well you can't just walk in here like that."

"Apparently I can."

"Well, yes, but you're not supposed to."

"Ahh. I'll bare that in mind. There she is. Garrett," I called.

She rolled her eyes, slumped a little and walked over.

"You're not allowed in here."

"So I'm learning. Can we talk?"

"What do you want? I'm busy."

"Not in front of Holmes here," I said.

She looked at the other officer.

"Very well, come into an interrogation room."

"Homely," I said as she shut the door.

"I don't really want to be seen here with you, Harker."

"That hurts my feelings," I frowned.

"I don't care."

"Where's good cop?"

"I don't have time for this."

"We may have trouble," I told her.

"Yes, I'm looking at it."

"Funny. We need to go and see the Librarian again, you need protection."

"I'm in a police station."

"I noticed. But you need magical protection."

She rolled her eyes again, I worried they might roll out before we managed to finish the conversation.

"Against what?" she asked.

"Bad angels."

"Bad angels?"

"Yeah."

"I thought angels were good."

"Some are. Very nice. Others? Not so much."

"And why would angels be attacking me?"

"They probably won't be, but you know, better safe than sorry and all that."

She sighed.

"Alright. Let's go, but make it quick, I've got work to do."

"You have a gun?"

"I do."

"Bring it. And those Peter's case files."

"OK. Wait here," she didn't seem that enthused by it all.

When she got back I had company.

"Captain," she said.

"I don't like this," he said looking at her and the files in her hands.

"What's not to like?" I asked.

"I'd forgotten how annoying you were," he told me.

"Like an itch," I shrugged.

"You wouldn't be taking files out of here. You wouldn't be giving him police files, would you?" he asked her.

"Well, I..." she trailed off.

"What's this all about, Harker?" the Captain asked.

"I need to see those files, Captain."

"You don't have any right."

"Nope."

He thought to himself for a few seconds.

"Garrett is a good cop," he said.

"She's OK," I replied.

"I should arrest you," she warned.

"Not shoot me? You must like me," I smiled sweetly.

"A good cop wouldn't be spending time with you, Harker, unless she thought it was important."

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. I don't trivialise myself."

"Is this like..."

"Yes, Captain," I said.

He nodded to himself. You could tell he didn't like being in this position.

"I don't like being put in this position," he said.

See? Nailed it.

"I can leave," I offered.

"You come to my office. Garrett, go and do something and then come to my office with those files."

I followed the Captain to his office. He sat in his chair and didn't offer me one. I looked at his chair, it was nice; maybe I should get one like that.

"I don't want to know what this is about, do I?"

"Probably not," I agreed. "Any issues since..."

"No," he shook his head. "No, you sorted that. But I heard things afterwards."

"Don't worry about them, Captain," I said seriously.

"I try not to. Garrett is a good cop, I don't like the idea of her getting caught up in your... things."

"She already is, Captain, but I don't intend on putting her in danger."

"I think danger follows you around. The Man Who Walks Alone."

I looked at him.

"Oh yes, I have contacts, I know things too," he said.

Garrett knocked and entered.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

"Fine," we both said at the same time.

She looked between the two of us.

"You can copy the files on my copier. No one will know," he said.

"Captain..."

"It's OK, Garrett," he let out a breath. "Just do it."

She walked over to the photocopier in the corner of his office and started copying the files.

"Thank you," I said.

"Is it something I should know about?" he asked.

"I hope it won't come to that," I said.

"Hope isn't good enough," he said sternly.

"It's all I've got."

"I worry more when you're serious, Harker."

I didn't answer and we all stood there in silence listening to the copier until it finished.

†

The Librarian looked up from his computer.

"You brought her? Good," he said.

"She needs protection," I said.

"She does."

"What do you know?"

"You're being talked about."

"I'm flattered," I said.

"You shouldn't be."

"I'm not."

"This is serious, Harker."

"I'm getting that vibe. You need to copy these files, the Aimee Peters case," I tossed them on his desk.

"Yes," he said.

He got up and took them to a copier and started copying.

"So what do I do?" Garrett asked.

"You? Not a lot," I said.

"That's not how I work."

"Pray you don't have to do anything," the Librarian said. "And I don't mean that figuratively."

"What are they saying? About him, I mean. And who are they?" she asked.

"On the dark net," he replied. "Talk about him interfering."

"Nothing new there," I said.

"Oh, this is new," he assured me. "You seem to be a threat."

"Little old me?"

"Yeah, seriously, him?"

"Oh, well, thanks."

"He's more than what he makes out," the Librarian told her.

"Still not answering the question. What are they saying?" I asked.

"You know you could look it up yourself?"

"But then what would you do?" I asked nicely.

"So much if I didn't have to babysit you," he sighed sadly.

People are mean.

"We came here for protection, I think that's still number one."

"Yes," he agreed. "You know the prayers, I'll find a hand."

"A hand?" she asked.

"Of Fatima. Wards off the Evil Eye."

"The Evil Eye? Oh, come on," she even sniggered.

"You won't laugh when it saves your life," the Librarian said looking through a drawer.

"It'll keep you somewhat hidden," I said. "I don't see why I have to pray, you know how I feel."

"This isn't my problem," he returned pulling an amulet on a chain from the drawer.

He gave it to her. It was a bronze hand with it's fingers together and thumb sticking out and in the middle of the palm was an eye.

"Hand of Fatima," I said.

"Keep it on you," the Librarian said seriously.

"What are they saying?" I asked.

"Pray," he said.

"OK, OK," I took Garrett and the Librarian's hands and they also joined. "Lord God, You are awesome and wonderful, You are the knower of all things and we are nothing in Your sight.

"Yet You deem us important enough to bestow Your love, grace and mercy upon us. You are everything and we are nothing and for some reason You have chosen us to do Your will and for that we are grateful. Who am I kidding? It's hard and depressing and, I at least, wish it wasn't so. There, I'm being honest. But it is as it is and for some reason You have let this innocent in upon all this and we are here to pray for Your protection on her.

"Protect her from evil and from the gaze of those who would do her harm and fight against You, so that she might serve You. Though she probably doesn't want to. Neither do I, come to think of it, but maybe we should talk about that later. I'm getting away from myself."

"Just pray the prayer," the Librarian said with annoyance, but eyes still closed.

"OK, OK. Lord God of Israel and of all the World and Heaven and those that live there and in the spaces between, we ask for Your protection of this soul in the fight against those that have Fallen. We do this so that Your Glory may be told and so that men and women may live free from the Great Evil.

"In Jesus name we pray this and all things. Amen."

"Amen," the Librarian said.

"Amen," Garrett said hesitantly.

"Do you?" I asked.

"What?" she asked looking at me.

"Amen means 'I agree". Do you?"

"I don't have much choice," she said.

"Good enough," I grinned. "Amen all round."
CHAPTER TEN

We had left the Library and I had driven Garrett back to the police station before driving to the office. It was after five and Adelaide had gone home. Outside it was already getting dark and though clouds were building on the horizon the air was still.

The Librarian had warned me unnecessarily that they would be after me and I had told him I was alright with that. If things were building then they would want me and others like me out of the way. They knew I had seen the seal and they must know that I could translate it. In fact I spent some time doing just that in my office before walking out into the cold night air.

I shouldn't have really, but I wanted to. I should have just driven home and read the Aimee Peters files there, but instead I walked. Not only that, but I took the time to walk through one of the city's many parks.

The first rule of the Venator's was FEAR THE DARK, but I wasn't going to. I wasn't a Venator and I wasn't afraid. No that wasn't true, I just didn't care enough. One of the many reasons I wasn't allowed to be a Venator.

I got halfway through before they came for me. A good number, it made me feel all warm inside to think I was that much of a danger to them. They were grotesque as demons are wont to be. They appeared from the darkness around me as I walked. I could hear them muttering and some shouted obscenities, at least one about my poor departed Mother.

I pushed back my coat so that I could reach my sword. It, like my twin pistols, were always on me, but were kept on the Heavenly plane. It made sitting a lot easier. Very difficult to keep pulling out a sword every time you wanted to sit down at a nice restaurant. Not that I got invited to nice restaurants.

"The time for your torment is here," one of them shouted.

And then they attacked en masse. My sword materialised in my hand as I drew it and I slashed at the first to reach me. Some were attacking with their claws, some with swords of their own and I parried blows as I turned and twisted to deflect the next blow.

As with humans I needed to strike a deep wound or killing blow to send them back to where they came from. Or somewhere worse. It must be somewhere worse considering their lack of enthusiasm for being 'killed'.

I flicked my blade over my shoulder to parry a blow as I kicked another away from me. I pulled a pistol and shot the foul being, sending it vaporising back to the Kingdom where it resides. I shot one as I turned and clashed with another before stabbing yet another and turning once again.

All the time I made my way forwards, ducking and turning, meeting blade with blade, clashing with long, razor sharp claws. They kept pushing forwards at me and I kept fending them off, fighting with my sword and shooting others where I got the chance. I shot one as it came at me and was gratified to watch it disappear into dust and leave it's ungodly stench behind it. Another came at me and I clashed with it, deflecting a blow and coming down low to strike it's legs as I spun and used an upward slice to take out another.

They were beginning to fall back as I reached the other end of the park. Another came screaming at me and I shot it. Another took the chance to come behind me and I spun and met it, my sword scraping against it's claws before I pulled my sword down and then upward, slicing off it's jaw.

The others now kept their distance and started to disappear as I reached the other end of the park. At the time I didn't know why they were wary, I couldn't kill them, just send them back. I assumed that something bad lay waiting for them if they were 'killed' in battle. Perhaps it was just that they had to spend time recovering from their wounds, but perhaps they were punished. I hoped I would never know, but I was thankful that they were unwilling to fight and lose, for whatever reason they had.

The last disappeared as I made it to the street and walked out into the street lights.

†

I made it back to my flat without any other issues and I should have gone straight to sleep, but after a shower I couldn't help going back to the case files on Aimee Peters. I'd scanned them into my computer at the office and I showered while my computer booted up. I sat down and accessed the files and began to read. It wasn't a nice bedtime story.

By all the evidence she had been tortured and kept alive for at least a week. Her body was mutilated and the evidence showed that she had been healed of several wounds to keep her alive. We had managed to email photos from the Captain's office and I opened them up. One look at them and I got up and went to the kitchen for a glass and a bottle of whisky. Yeah, I know. Drinking again, but I needed it. OK, so no, I didn't need it, but I didn't want to look at those photos in a cold, sober light. I even considered pouring away the first glass I poured, but I was weak and downed it instead. Pouring another I looked again at the pictures. There were a number of the crime scene, her own home, and those were the ones I scoured.

There was one that I zoomed in on as much as I could before it became grainy and then went back to the case files. Yes. They were looking for a boyfriend. He hadn't been seen since before the murder and couldn't be found now. I went back to the photo and zoomed in again. A tiny cross carved into the door frame. Much good it had done, but it meant that those that had done this were human.

I sat back and drank more whisky. Tortured for a week, either to get information from her or to get the boyfriend to come to them. That depended on who carved the crosses, but as they were hidden in the same place I tended to hide them, I assumed the boyfriend. Protecting his girlfriend's house without her knowing it. I looked through the notes again and found no reference to a mobile phone.

I sat back again.

They were looking for him, I knew that in my gut. They tortured her and rang him to try and get him to come, but he hadn't. What did he know?

I had an advantage over them, demons and Fallen couldn't just walk around asking questions, they needed humans to do it for them. Or at least possess someone, but they nor their human sickos were trained detectives. It would take them a while to find this boyfriend.

Dammit.

I'd been played, they were stalling me with all this other stuff to try and find the boyfriend before I even started looking.

I went back to the seal and furiously began translating it, as I did I used Skype to call the Librarian, I knew he would be awake and at his desk. He answered after a few rings.

"Boyfriend," he said as he appeared on the screen.

"Dammit."

"Yes. We should have got to this sooner."

"It's not that easy."

"But they have been looking for him for a good amount of time now."

"And we're just starting," I finished. "Does this mean the Box stuff is misdirection?"

"Haven't you translated the seal yet?"

"I've been busy. Jules and Fairfax came for a visit."

"Together?" he actually seemed surprised.

"Yeah, they reckon there is a coup going on."

"Good for us," he said.

"Not according to them."

"Then, no. I don't think the Box nor the Codex are bluffs, I think they are what these people had, or thought they could get."

"The seal suggests it."

"So you have translated it."

"Roughly."

"Well then, yes. It suggests they know where it might be and want to help."

"But they hadn't found this boyfriend when they made the seal; they wanted help in finding him."

"They don't know how it works."

"Which still gives us the edge."

"But we have nothing."

"They're not part of it, they want in, but they aren't yet. Or they weren't. I don't think they will be unless they can come good with what they promised."

"You start asking in those places and they will hear also."

"Too late for that. I have a lead."

"They will know you are looking," he warned.

"I think it was too late for that a while ago."

"Brashness won't help our cause."

"Neither will idleness. We're behind here."

"I told you they are talking about you."

"You did," I nodded.

"That means there are vested interests. These are no longer humans trying to get in."

"No. But unless they can deliver then they are of no use. We can still beat them to it."

"So what is your reading of the seal?"

I sat back and thought and then brought up the pictures on the screen. The Librarian had set me up with two monitors for just this kind of thing and I flicked them over to the other screen so I could still see his face. I didn't like talking to him without seeing his expressions. I didn't like the idea that he was sneering without me knowing it.

"It's good, professional. They spent the time in researching how it was done."

"Yes, that means they've prepared. I'm looking into that," he nodded and looked off screen.

He had more monitors than I did and I had one too many.

"Usual stuff on the outside, it's where they talk of the Box and the Codex that it gets interesting."

"What's your reading on that?" he asked.

"That they don't have it. The language is not definite, like they're trying to sell something they don't actually have."

"Agreed. They talk in circles, hoping they will have it by the time someone contacts them."

"Not saying they do have it, but not saying they don't."

"It could be a bargaining tactic."

"No," I shook my head. "From everything we know of the Box or the Codex, actually having either would be a big deal. Attract a lot of attention. Perhaps they thought they would be able to get one by the time it mattered."

"But they haven't. We know they are organised, but they are out of their depth," he said.

"Yeah. I have a lead that Farouq might know something."

"If you do then assume they do too."

I looked at the time.

"It's not too late to visit him," the Librarian said.

"So get to it."

"That's your job."

"How about we trade and I just kick back with old stuff all day?"

His pained expression said everything, but he wasn't about to be lured in.

"We both have our jobs, Harker," was all he managed.

"Yeah and yours doesn't include sword fighting with demons on the way home."

"You did?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it, we both have our jobs."

"Go and talk to Farouq, Harker, we're behind on this," he said and ended the call.

How rude.

I went to bed that night and awoke from vivid nightmares. The clock showed I had only slept for two hours, if it could be called sleep. Which it couldn't be. I went straight for my own fix-all, the whisky that still sat next to my computer.

It was times like this that I hated myself the most. Inactive and unable to do anything and turning to the bottle to solve it. I wanted to go and see Farouq, but that wouldn't be happening at this time of night. I wanted to go and find the people that had tortured that innocent girl, but I didn't know where to start. I wanted to find this boyfriend and see what he knew, but I didn't know where to look; so instead I tipped alcohol down my throat. It made me feel unhappy and guilty and bitter at my lot in life. I shouldn't, no man or woman should, see and do the things I was expected to do. Oh yes, I was doing good, but at what cost to myself? I thought His burden was easy and His yoke was light? It didn't feel that way at times like this.

Yes, I know I was being pissy, I know I was being selfish and childish, but that didn't change my feelings then. It never did. I guess it was because I wanted to drink, was enabling myself to do so. Finding a reason to do so, someone else to blame for it.

I could have been translating more of the seal or reading through the case files, finding something that would give me the edge, but the alcohol stopped any of that. I couldn't know I was making the right decisions, jumping to the right conclusions unless I was totally sober and so the whisky stopped me from doing what I actually wanted to do. I hated it for that, I hated myself for it, but at the same time I needed it so that I couldn't think. I wanted to escape from it all until I had had a few drinks and then I wanted to get back in the game, but couldn't.

I don't remember going to sleep, but I got up through the night to pee and drink water and in the morning I had to force bacon down my throat to feel somewhere close to normal.

I hated myself even more in the mornings.
CHAPTER ELEVEN

The cold fog that blanketed the ground woke me up as I walked to my car. It left a cold sting in my lungs and the after taste of the city's decay on my tongue. I drove slowly through the streets, mostly deserted at this time. It wouldn't take long for them to fill up with the morning commute to work and I was glad that was something I didn't have to do. I hated driving in the city, I hated the traffic jams and the desperation to arrive quickly that often caused them.

I'd awoken early as my brain was eager to get out and see Farouq, it knew that we were behind. I'd rather have laid in for hours and enjoyed the warmth of my bed, but I don't think that is any different to anyone else. A taste of normality.

Farouq ran a small antiquities store and was, as I understood it, a Coptic Christian from Egypt. That meant he had an awful lot of tradition and history on his shoulders. Saint Mark of 'The Gospel According to Mark' fame was said to have started the Church in Egypt. That's a pretty impressive lineage.

Despite being a Christian, Farouq tried to keep neutral and was respected by both sides. His age was difficult to pin down as, though he was old, he seemed a lot older than he was. Or maybe he was a lot older than he seemed; if a wealth of knowledge defined age then he was ancient.

The shop was already open when I got there as many of his customers liked to come early and late in the day when there wasn't anyone else around. I was dearly hoping that I was early enough not to meet anyone, and late enough to not meet any special customers. Seemed I was in luck as I walked in the door.

Farouq was nowhere to be seen so I looked through his little shop. There was barely enough room to squeeze between the two shelving units that took up the floor, with the walls also being lined with glassed in shelves. Everything looked old, as you would expect from an antiquities store, but I knew that the things he really peddled did not make it out to these shelves.

I wound my way around to the counter at the back, itself a glass case with more trinkets inside.

"Farouq?" I called and heard motion from through the door that lead into the back.

He emerged and smiled at me a welcoming smile.

"Not that type of visit," I said and his smile disappeared.

"From your face I should lock the front door," he said.

"I wouldn't mind a quick chat."

"Very well," he nodded.

He walked around the counter and I heard him lock the door and flip the sign to 'closed' before coming back.

"Come through," he invited and I followed him through to a little room with comfortable chairs and a low table. There he had some Arabic coffee and he poured us both a cup.

"I need this," I said for no reason.

"As do I, no one likes a visit from you, Harker. It never means good things," he said.

"What? I can't make social calls?"

"Not that you can't, but rather that you don't."

"I heard you knew something on Phillippe's Box."

"You travel bad circles to hear such things."

"I've travelled bad circles for less," I replied.

"That I don't believe."

"What about the Box?"

"Ahh, yes," he sipped at his coffee. "I have heard rumours that someone has it, but I don't believe them. There is other talk that someone knows where it is, that is slightly more believable. But only slightly."

"Why?"

"There's no good source that it exists. No primary sources."

"But we're still talking," I said.

"We are," he replied.

"That wasn't really worth closing your shop for."

"The Great Detective," he smirked.

"It's getting to be a running joke."

"What do you know? Or should I ask, what has your Librarian told you?"

"That Phillippe created it, or was the last to have it. Or was the one who filled it, though no one seems to know what's in it."

"Yes, the most trusted account comes from Istanbul where a man allegedly met with Phillippe. Or with someone else if you believe the accounts that say Phillippe was long dead by this time. Again the translations differ as some say what was in the box was terrible, others translate it as wonderful."

"And there's no original."

"No. But the stories all agree that this man, or a woman in one account, murdered the man and stole the box that night and was found dead a week later in their home. No one knows where the box went after that, but stories began to spring up in Europe and, of course, we have the famous 'Tortures and Transformations of Izabella' that alleges to tell of what happened to that thief over the week."

"Really?"

"Oh, your Librarian kept that from you, did he?" he smiled mischievously.

"Must have slipped his mind. Probably because it's not important, Farouq. What is important it that these rumours might be coming from a man whose girlfriend was brutally tortured for the information. I'm looking for him."

"The information came through the Venators," he said.

Dammit.

"I didn't realise you kept tabs on them."

"I don't. Someone came to see me, thought that I might know something. Thought I might know if the Box was really worth anything."

"And you would know."

"I would," he nodded.

"But you don't."

"Not with this one, no. Too many conflicting accounts and no one in recent times has had even a sniff of it. I struggle to believe that just anyone has found it. If it even exists."

I looked at him for a while, 'just anyone' I thought, and then finished my coffee.

"Always good coffee here."

"I can't interest you in anything?"

"You got a box of interest?" I asked standing.

He laughed as he stood.

"Very good."

We walked back through the shop and he unlocked the door, flipping the sign at the same time.

"If it exists, this Box, then it is very dangerous," he said seriously at the door.

"So are the people looking for it."

"I like you, Harker, you're not like the rest. Go and ask your Venator friends."

"Not my friends," I grimaced at the thought.

"You know why I like you? Why I wish you well on this?"

"My sparkling wit?"

"You will find the Box before you find someone who enjoys that."

"Then I'm out of options."

"You never asked what was in the Box."

He opened the door and I walked through it before turning.

"Farouq?"

"Yes?"

"What's in the Box?"

"I hope you nor I ever have to find out."

†

"Izabella's Tortures and Transformations?" I said into the phone.

"You've seen Farouq," the Librarian said.

"I have. Why didn't you mention it?"

"The Box isn't your issue here, is it? I'm compiling everything I can on the Box and the Codex, it's your job to find this group of killers."

"Well, OK, but forewarned is forearmed."

"When I have everything, so will you. This isn't about the Box anymore, it's about finding this young man before he is killed or worse."

"It's more than that."

"Yes, I know," he said brusquely.

"The information on the Box, the info that we think this boyfriend has? Farouq got it from the Venators."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Their channels are hacked?"

"Something got out."

"So you're going to see them."

"I was hoping you were."

"Very funny."

"They don't like me," I reminded him.

"You don't like them," he reminded me.

"True."

"It means they know more than they are telling."

"Like about Izabella's Tortures and Transformations?"

"I'll lend you my copy."

"You know the Venators don't like to share, but it could be their leak that led to Aimee Peter's death and I don't like that," I carried on.

"Come and see me when you are finished with them," he said and cut the call.

I sat in my car and took a few moments to stare into the thinning fog before calling Garrett.

"What?"

"How's it going?" I asked.

"Not good. Our man on trial for the Voodoo murder committed suicide."

I frowned to myself.

"How?"

"Smashed his skull against the wall of his cell numerous times until there wasn't much left. But there's more, other inmates said they could hear someone telling him to do it, they said the voice was unearthly and freaked them out. It was their shouts that brought the guards."

"And they're playing that down," I said.

"Yeah. They said it was him shouting and no one's going to believe the supernatural ravings of convicted felons."

"There's something more," I said.

"Isn't that enough?"

"I want to mourn for him, but I, we, don't have time. Aimee Peter's had a boyfriend, I think she was tortured to bring him in. We need to find him."

"I saw that, but there are no leads."

"I'm running a race here and they're ahead of me, but they don't have the skills we do. They can't find someone who's hidden themselves, but it won't be that way for much longer. Too many people are looking."

"I'll get on it," she said and I marvelled again at how easily she went with it all.

"Come to my office this evening," I said.

"I don't want any more deaths," she said before cutting the call.

†

It was my day for house calls. From the car I rang Jules and we agreed to meet at a bar. It annoyed me greatly, but I didn't say anything. She had chosen a bar where sickos and Avatars hung out. I knew exactly why, she wanted them to see that we were working. That we knew stuff.

It wasn't that weird though, it was a small community and though we worked on opposite sides it wasn't unusual for both sides to meet at the same places. Indeed, it was a good place to trade information and there were plenty of places that made themselves neutral for that very purpose. It was good business and it meant that people could go and relax amongst others who understood the world they lived in. Often sides, right and wrong, good and bad, were left at the door. Though the same couldn't be said when you walked back out.

And it wasn't like everyone was a demon or a demon hunter. There were plenty of people like Farouq who were businessmen and women, and, er, businessdemons. They needed safe places where they could conduct business and find information from both sides.

As I've said before, there were plenty of people who knew the damned were damned and didn't feel the need to try and change that. People like Farouq weren't bad, they just had a different job from people like the Venators; whose job was to wipe demons and Fallen from the face of the Earth. To disrupt and destroy their schemes to damn humanity at every turn.

I contemplated ordering a whisky while I waited for her, I hated meeting with Venators and I hated being in places like this, but it was early in the day and I knew I would have a lot to do. That didn't make it any easier to order a soda and I was once again disgusted at my need for alcohol, my need to run away from it all and that just made me want a drink even more.

The bartender warned me that he didn't want any trouble and I was about to protest, but then couldn't be bothered and just gave her the money instead.

I looked around the bar, it was about a quarter full of people trading information and talking before the day really got going. A lot happened over night and it was good to know where you stood in the morning.

"Well, well... Harker," Pollus said in his reedy voice.

"Pollus."

"Not the type of place you frequent so early in the morning."

"Not the place I try to frequent at any time of day," I replied.

He snickered.

"No."

"What do you want, Pollus?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Well that's good then."

"I hear the Exorcist is looking for you."

"I've heard that too," I lied.

He snickered again.

"Have you?"

"What's your point, Pollus?" I asked.

He ordered a drink instead of answering.

"Would have thought you would have one of these," he said as his whiskey arrived.

"I've promised not to cause trouble, Pollus, don't make me break that."

"There's talk of the Box," he said.

I looked at his diminutive frame, his poor attempts at covering his baldness. He was a wily one, more than any other realised. He had been possessed by a demon, but the demon had left. Everyone thought he was a nothing, including that demon.

But I knew he had won a substantial amount in the lottery while he had been possessed, enough to live on forever, and I was pretty sure he knew that the demon would leave, had in fact banked on it happening after he'd used it to win big. Still, as everyone thought him useless no one questioned his presence and that made him a valuable source of knowledge that few tapped into. He was that man that could be in any conversation and no one would notice him, nor worry about what he overheard.

And so he overheard everything.

"You're telling me this for a reason, Pollus."

"I am. I like you, you always treat me right."

"Do I?"

"Oh that bluff? You've never done wrong by me while others just ignore me."

"So why are you telling me this, Pollus?"

"I've heard rumour that they're trying to get rid of you."

"No luck so far."

"So I can see. Must be something big to try and get rid of the Man Who Walks Alone first."

"They haven't really tried as far as I can see."

"No. But they will try harder. I don't want to see you in trouble."

"Really?"

"We're friends," he said.

I wanted to argue that, but I really couldn't. We kinda were. Man, I needed that drink. No. Wanted, not needed.

"But you haven't actually told me anything. Friend."

He snickered again. It was easy to see why people didn't like him.

"They're all looking, but they haven't found. They're scared that the Great Detective will get there first."

"Sherlock Holmes, isn't real, Pollus."

"They'll be watching you," he said seriously. "Here, your date has arrived."

I looked around to see that Jules had walked through the door.

"I'll be seeing you, Pollus," I got up. "And thanks."

"My pleasure as always. Friend," he snickered again, but I knew he meant it.
CHAPTER TWELVE

"Nice place to meet," I said sitting at a booth with her.

She looked at my drink before answering.

"I won't bother, you know very well why I chose here."

"I do and I don't like it," I said angrily.

"Oh, stow it."

"Me stow it? I'm not the one who uses everyone; I'm not the one who thinks they're better than the rest."

"I'm not the one who wanted to meet up," she said calmly.

I let my anger drain out. Man, I hated the Venators and their attitude.

"Talk of the Box came from you lot."

"So?" she asked.

"Got a leak?"

"You know very well that information gets traded. Look around, it's happening all around us. The Box isn't important, the coup is," she looked around.

"They could be one and the same."

"The Box probably doesn't exist, Harker."

"But people are looking for it."

"So?"

"Seriously? You can't see a link?"

"We hunt demons, Harker, we trade information to find them. The only reason the world isn't run by sickos or Avatars is because of us."

"Spare me the induction spiel."

"Yeah, you turned that down."

"Bitter, much?"

"No," she said. "You're not a Venator."

"Damn right I'm not."

"So what do you want?"

"You can't, you just can't not see it," I frustrated.

"The Box doesn't matter to us. Until it is something more than a myth it doesn't help us."

"But you heard something on it. That's how Farouq knew. You came to me, Jules, so tell me what you know. Where do I find the boyfriend?"

"OK. Yes, I came to you. I came to you because you might find something. I came to you because there is talk and it includes you. Maybe you are onto something."

"So why not tell me this back at the office?"

"With Fairfax there?"

"You brought him. And you had plenty of time after," I was getting angry. "And before."

"Get off your high horse, Harker, it was talk, that's all. So far it has nothing do with what we are looking at. We were doing you a favour by visiting you."

"Oh, some favour."

"Once again we're getting nowhere with you," she said.

"No, but you're watching to see where I get."

"And you're getting nowhere."

"The boyfriend," I pressed.

"All we've got is that no one can find him. Suggests magical protection. And that there are demons looking for him."

"Come on, Jules, that is something. At first it was just humans looking."

"But why are they looking for him? To get the Codex? That becomes nothing if they have already made contact with demons. And the Box? It's a myth. There are other leads talking of a coup, they're the ones that are important."

"No," I shook my head. "You're playing me. You came to me, along with Fairfax because I might be onto something to do with the coup. Nothing I can think of links me to it other than this. You want me to keep going, but you don't want to share."

A frustrated expression waved across her face, quick and indistinct, but enough for me to know I was on the right track.

"We're not playing you, we're on the same side. We just want to know if you hear anything about the coup."

It came to me in a flash, so quickly that I nearly blurted it out, but I held my tongue at the last minute.

They wanted the boyfriend, but they couldn't find him. They had hoped that I would find him and pass on the information thinking it was linked to the coup. Which meant that it was. But they weren't letting me in on that. Maybe because of Fairfax, but she could be telling me it now and she wasn't.

"You're right," I said instead. "We're on the same side. I don't know why my name might have come up in conjunction with it, I haven't found anything, but I'll pass on anything I find that links to it."

She scrutinised my face and then nodded to herself. I should play more poker. Gotta be better than chess.

"Good. You do know what it would mean? A war between the Pit angels and the Air angels?"

"Yeah," I sighed like a teenager.

"Good."

She stood up and walked out. She got a few looks and I thought she might be the one to start some trouble, but everyone looked away at her gaze.

I looked at my soda and considered ordering something stronger because I am weak and stupid, but instead I sipped at it. Pit and Air angels, angels from the first and second fall. Those that fell with Satan inhabit the Kingdom of the Air, but those that left Heaven for the sins of Earth, who had their way with Earthly women, they got sent down to the pit, or worse, beyond it. While their leaders were chained awaiting judgement, Satan and his followers got dominion over Earth.

You couldn't blame them, I suppose, for wanting to move up in the World. Pun intended, but it would mean a war in the spiritual worlds and, as they were connected to Earth, there would be consequences for Earth. Wars breaking out, natural disasters. A kind of mirroring of what was happening in the spiritual plane. Not to mention the actual fighting between sickos and Avatars, maybe some of the Fallen. No, it wouldn't be good.

And that annoyed me more.

She knew how bad it could be and she wasn't playing straight with me. The stupid Venators, so busy with their own agenda they couldn't see any other angle.

They didn't like me because I had refused to join them. Demon hunters, they were the ones that made sure that the World wasn't run by Fallen, demons or their sickos. Or worse Satan himself. They hunted them down and stopped their plans, but they were only interested in stopping Satan pulling people down to Damnation along with him. They preserved the Christian message and they fought a losing battle, but they could make sure it wasn't worse than it was.

It was a noble goal, it made things better than it could be. At least in the Western world, but they were too proud, they thought themselves too important. They couldn't see a bigger picture; thought other things, and people, were beneath them and they were angry that I should point that out when I turned them down. It wasn't my fault; I probably would have joined them if Gabriel hadn't visited me before that. I'd already set about on my journey, that's how they noticed me and tried to recruit me. By then I already had a journey to make and they couldn't believe someone like me would have anything higher to do than to join their ranks.

But they couldn't shake me. I did good and it just rankled them further that it wasn't in their name. Of course it didn't help that I'd already met Adelaide by that point, and well, that's a whole other story.

I rang Garret.

"What?"

"What have you got on the Peter's boyfriend," I asked.

"Not a lot."

"What do you mean, 'not a lot'?"

"He's not a suspect."

"He's not? A girl gets tortured and killed, the boyfriend cannot be found and he's not the prime suspect?"

I could hear her breathing down the line.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "I mean... yeah. You're right."

"I've got the files, but I need anything else. When can you meet me at the Library?"

"It'll take me a couple of hours," she said still in a daze.

"Good. Meet me then," I hung up. Or pressed a button, whatever you called it on mobile phones. Disconnected, I guess. Not as catchy as 'hung up' though, but that was the modern world for you. Not as catchy.

"Hard to know who your friends are," he said sitting down.

I didn't want to, but my whole body clenched as he sat. Not just a Fallen, but the one I had seen before.

"Relax," he smiled.

"Hard thing to ask in the face of scum."

"Very brave," he continued to smile.

"Not something I get credited with often, but I like to think so."

"The trademark wit," this time he seemed to smile to himself. "The Man Who Walks Alone."

"Never heard of him. Sounds handsome."

"Foolish to walk alone along such paths. Wolves around, you know?"

"No one will put up with me," I sipped my drink, but it tasted sour.

"I've heard that."

"Then you hear wrong, I'm mister popular. What do you want?"

"The same as you."

"Chips and a nap?"

"You are annoying, aren't you?"

"Maybe it's your eternal death and damnation. That's what I want."

"You might get that, but not if we have anything to do about it."

"You're a loser, you and your boss. You lost the moment you stood up to God," I said.

He chuckled.

"Oh, you'd all like to believe that."

"I don't remember Him being cast from Heaven."

That got him angry.

"He's greedy and vain," he spat.

"I've heard that from demons, thought you'd be more eloquent."

He sat back and smiled to himself.

"It's just a passing 'hello', I mean nothing more by it," he was smiling again.

†

"It's all in the seal," I told the Librarian after telling him everything else.

"Why?"

"Because it's always where you start. I started looking into that seal and now everyone's interested in what we find."

"There are those that want us to find nothing."

"Yeah, and they're already having their crack. Don't be such a downer."

"I'm a realist," he said.

"And I'm really fighting them. What have we got on the seal, what are we missing?"

"They want a coup."

"According to others. Everyone is waiting on finding this boyfriend because what he knows is important to all sides."

"The Box?"

"Exactly."

"Or not," he mused.

"No?"

"You're forgetting the Codex."

"Right. It's being played down, maybe deliberately."

"So why can't they find the boyfriend?"

"The police aren't even looking which means he's got some kind of spell over him. That means they're using these humans to look for him and they don't have the resources to do so," I said.

"Why not just possess a policemen?"

"Because then they would be under the spell too."

"Would they?"

I thought about it. Maybe, but maybe not. So they had tried that and it hadn't worked. But then surely they could sense out the magic.

"It's the Angels of the Air. They're protecting him. They don't want him found."

The Librarian nodded.

"It makes sense. They would know how to mask their magic."

"Yes, he couldn't cast a spell over a police department and not be on the spiritual radar."

"So he's working for the Air?"

"No," I shook my head. "I don't think so. It still goes back to the seal."

"How?"

"They did it because they thought they knew where he was, they knew what he knew. They were reaching out with that information."

"How could they?"

"I don't know. Farouq got his information from the Venators. They knew of him before he disappeared."

"But you're getting nothing from them."

"No," I shook my head in frustration. "Wait. She came to me with Fairfax. They're working together to keep him hidden. As soon as all this coup stuff came out."

He thought for a while.

"Then let's drop it," he said.

"No. That's not it, why would they come to me? They want to find this boyfriend."

"Back to square one."

"Not quite. They had him and they lost him. They wanted him hidden, maybe helped him to stop this coup, but they lost him."

"Then he's smart," the Librarian said.

"Or had help. Pollus said that the Exorcist was looking for me," I remembered.

"That can't be good."

"That's what I thought."

"I don't think he would get involved."

"No," I sighed in frustration.

"You're right though, we need to start back at the beginning and they are the last people who knew where he was. If you're right. Take your pick, Fairfax or the Venators."

"Are you here?" Garrett called.

"In here," I called back.

Garrett walked in with a manila envelope that she threw on the desk.

"Everything we have on the boyfriend."

"You seem annoyed," I said.

"I am. I'm pissed at you guys and all this stuff. You're right, this should have been our major attack, it would be, but you and all your magic or whatever is stopping us doing our job.

The Librarian sat in silence so it was up to me.

"We're not doing this."

"I don't care. I'm a detective, the Police. I do this to make sure the bad people get put away and all I've got recently is that that isn't happening."

She sat down heavily.

"That's why we're here," the Librarian said.

"Oh, stow it," she said angrily.

"You've looked through it," I said.

"Of course I have," she said still angry.

"And?"

"And nothing. There's nothing on him. No one knows anything about him."

"But no one's looked into it," I said flipping through the files.

"No," she said.

"Nothing new," the Librarian asked.

"No," I agreed. "Some follow up, but by then they were put off the scent."

"So it's up to you, Detective," the Librarian said.

"What?" she asked looking up.

"We can't break the spell; then your fellow officers would start looking into it," he said. "You have to be able to go back and look into it."

"You need to explain to me what's going on here," she demanded.

"I will," I said. "Over a drink. Somewhere nicer than this."

"Oh, thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," I smiled.

"Whatever," she said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We found ourselves in a nice pub and I bought her a drink, the universal apology/buy-off amongst friends. Though I didn't think Garrett and I were friends. Well, I liked to think it, but I don't think she did.

"Don't think buying me a drink makes up for all this," she said.

Nope, she didn't.

"I was hoping."

She looked at the drink after having another sip.

"You know what annoys me the most?"

"Usually the answer to that question is 'Harker'," I admitted.

She thought about it.

"You know the thing that annoys me the second most?"

"That you never knew."

"You are annoying."

"Like you said, you're a cop and you're doing a job only to find that it's being hampered by things you didn't believe existed."

"Like finding out that all the Top Brass were criminals and all we did was just a façade of good."

I opened my mouth to say something.

"Don't bother," she snarled and I shrugged.

"The thing is, demons and the Fallen and all that, they come from a different plane of existence, right? But they're not omnipresent, nor omniscient. They can't just look into some magic ball and find this boyfriend so they're leaving it up to a couple of detectives to do so."

"Us."

"Yeah, kinda flattering."

"Not really," she replied. "And what does this boyfriend know that they all want?"

"Dunno," I shrugged again. I don't know what muscle you use to shrug, but mine was getting a workout.

"So why bother?"

"Because he knows something, something about this Box of Phillippe, maybe something that could lead to some bad stuff happening."

"I don't like bad stuff," she said.

We both took a drink.

"It gets worse, I said.

"Of course."

"I think that a certain group of people might have been hiding him and that he escaped or was taken."

"And?"

"And they haven't admitted that."

"And yet you still believe it," a statement, not a question.

"I do."

"But you think they might be hoping that you'll find him for them."

"Yes. Again, they're not detectives, they don't have those resources. At least as far as I know."

"Which is how far?" she raised her eyebrows as she drank.

"Pretty far," I said self-satisfied.

"I don't know whether to believe that," she replied. "So the fact that we're involved at all makes me think this is all linked to the people who made the seal, did the murder."

"Yup. They thought they had the boyfriend, or maybe they do have him, either way they made the seal on the basis of having the knowledge or knowing where it could be found."

"What's your plan?" she asked with the air of someone who didn't want to know.

I told her. She was right, she didn't want to know.

†

It was only the middle of the afternoon when I got back to the office and was surprised not to find someone in my chair. Adelaide failed to greet me as I walked past her despite, apparently, not doing any kind of work. I went and sat behind my desk and realised that it was a new chair. I pressed the intercom.

"New chair."

"I can hear you through the door," she called.

I got up and closed the door. It took some effort, but then I was back behind my desk and hit the intercom.

"It'll take some wearing in," I said.

"I'm sure you'll be able to manage it," she replied over the line.

"Hey, I've been beating the streets all day."

"You've been in bars by the smell of you."

"Work related bars," I replied.

"Of course," she ironicalised.

I switched off the intercom and leaned back in my new chair. I swung around to look out the window behind my desk. Not much too see except for the street below so I spun back around and put my feet up on the desk. This was why I kept hold of her; she was a good chair buyer.

I spent the afternoon going back over the seal and translating it. I also spent time on the case files of the two murders, trying to spot something I had missed. I even went back to the books that the Librarian had given me on the Box and the Codex. The writing was drier than a Martini in the Sahara, but something kept coming through it. What's in the box? It was the great question that no one could answer. Everyone thought it was something important, but no one could point to why they thought that. There was one though.

One story.

It told of the Box, of a woman who had held it in her hands, who had run her fingers across it. She had had a vision then, a vision of a great abyss filled with fire and she had risen above it and into the land beyond. She looked back and could see all the World spread out on the other side and in front of her was a desolate wasteland where seven great stars hovered, bound to the ground by chains of darkness. The stars howled at their imprisonment and she felt their anguish at not being free to do what they wanted. She looked up and could see no stars in the black sky, but as she looked back she could see stars in the sky above the World. That was where they wanted to be.

The Box was, she said, a map to that desolate wasteland, it was a map to the World beyond the abyss, beyond the sky and Heavens themselves. It was the Box, not that which was in it.

I put away the books and opened another that I had bookmarked. It was about the Codex of Solomon. I'd kinda forgotten about it, we'd assumed they were looking for it in order to be able to contact the demons in the first place. But now we knew different and we hadn't come back to it. I read again and it struck me, as the Librarian had said, that people thought this less real than the Box. And that was saying something. Still there were a few stories of people who had read it, or parts of it, and they were not pretty. I liked to think they had some validity as I was not happy with thinking that man's mind could come up with such things. Most of the things told of were sexual in nature, the idea of exploring the fleshly nature of man while ignoring the spiritual. Separating the two.

There was one comment that caught my eye. 'How can man navigate the Kingdom of the Air, the Pit, or the land beyond the Pit, if he does not understand the lay of the land?' That struck a chord, but before I could think on it further my phone rang and I grabbed it out of habit.

"Harker?"

"Usually on this number," I said.

"You need to come to my house."

I hadn't looked at the caller ID, but I recognised the voice as Garrett's and her tone made me wish I hadn't been so flippant.

"What is it?"

"Just come. Now."

She gave me her address and I grabbed my Driza-bone and bag as I ran out the door to my car. Her tone wouldn't let me walk.

I got there and knocked to find the Captain answering the door.

"Good. I have to call the police," he said as I let him in.

"You are the police," I said.

"I've noticed."

He led me into the lounge and I stopped dead. Well, less dead than the man lying on the floor. Garrett was sitting on a couch with a cup of tea in both hands. She looked up as I entered.

"Weird décor," I commented and she even managed to smile.

"Long day, I was getting ready to curl up in bed with a book and fall asleep. Sun's setting earlier," she said as if she needed to explain.

She put the tea down and stood up.

"Broke in through the back door," the Captain said.

"He had a gun, so did I, this is how it ended," she said.

"Rather him than you," I said. "Who is he?"

"Don't know. One of your seal makers," she said.

"Why?"

"He was spouting off. Saying that we were smart, too smart and that would be our end, was my end. Something about big mouths that needed closing. Mentioned you by name."

"I'm famous in all the wrong places."

"I have to call this in," the Captain said. He was edgy.

"Why haven't you?"

"Because she called me, because she wanted you to see this before everyone else arrived."

"This is linked. You wouldn't get a look in once the circus arrives," she said.

"Do you recognise him?" the Captain asked.

"Nope."

"Then I must call it in," he said.

"Do it," I said.

He walked out and I knelt over the body. I put down my bag and rifled through it. Seriously, I always packed the things I needed before I even knew I needed them. I pulled out latex gloves and a finger printing kit.

"Don't leave any traces," she warned.

"I won't."

I finger printed him and wiped the ink away before carefully opening his shirt. I found what I expected. Tattoos that were meant as protection, both from God and those that were riding the train to Hell. I took photos of these and then buttoned him up. As I stood I saw that the Captain was back.

"So?" he asked.

"So I'm glad you let me in," I said. "I can work on this."

"Who is he?" he asked.

"He's a sicko, he's part of the group murdering people believing that they can summon demons by doing so."

"Right," Cap said with a stern jaw-line. "Can they?"

"Yeah. Sacrifice and blood are key to many spells. Powerful emotions cross all planes."

His jaw got sterner.

"We'll find out who he is. Put a stop to it."

"You'll struggle, Captain, he won't have any records. He won't be on any file you have."

"But on one's you have."

"Maybe."

"You should leave."

"Are you alright?" I asked Garret.

"I didn't ask you here because I'm weak and in need of comfort," she returned.

"It's not fun though."

"No," she shook her head and shivered involuntarily. "The thought of someone in your house. This is meant to be your stronghold. I feel violated."

"I know."

"Do you?" she shot back.

"Yeah, there was a time I considered replacing my locks with a welcome mat. It's why I moved into a small apartment, less places for them to hide."

She looked at me intently and finally nodded.

"Come and sleep on my couch tonight if you want. When the circus ends," I said.

"I'll be fine."

"You need to get out of here," the Captain urged.

"Yeah. Thank you, Sir," I said and walked to the door.

I looked back at Garrett and she just nodded at me. I turned and left. I pulled away as the first sirens were reaching the street.

†

That night I did my quiet time. I read the verses that were for the day and they were this:

For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment; And spared not the old world, but saved Noah the eighth person, a preacher of righteousness, bringing in the flood upon the world of the ungodly; And turning the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah into ashes condemned them with an overthrow, making them an ensample unto those that after should live ungodly; And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy conversation of the wicked: (For that righteous man dwelling among them, in seeing and hearing, vexed his righteous soul from day to day with their unlawful deeds;) The Lord knows how to deliver the godly out of temptations, and to reserve the unjust unto the Day of Judgment to be punished: But chiefly them that walk after the flesh in the lust of uncleanness, and despise government. Presumptuous are they, self-willed, they are not afraid to speak evil of dignities.'

It was certainly linked to what I was going through and God certainly spoke through the Bible, but I didn't want to think of it like that. It seemed too easy. I read the thoughts that came with the reading and it focussed on how God had saved Noah and saved Lot. How God saved the righteous from amongst the sinners. I wondered again if I really was one of the righteous and that made me want to drink. But it was the drinking that made me think I wasn't one of the righteous. We let our sins overcome us and hide us from God's love. God, I knew, forgave me my sins because He loved me, but I couldn't see anything in myself to love and so couldn't see why He would. But then I'm not God. I'm not a father, if I was maybe I would understand a father's love for his children.

I didn't want to think of the case despite the verses, I wanted to be quiet and enter the Courts of the Most High, but I couldn't help it. Especially that last verse, about keeping the unrighteous under punishment, especially those that lust and despise authority. That sounded like the Pit Angels. As did the first verses.

Angels chained up, forbidden from Heaven, the greatest curse they could know. To be bound to Earth instead. And not even like the first of the Fallen. No dominion over Earth, but to rot in and beyond the Abyss. Again I could see how there could be a coup.

But this wasn't the time to think on it, this was my time with God. So I tried to clear my mind and pray.

You are the Most Holy, You are awesome and cool and You know my thoughts. You know I am not cool, not holy. I'm an idiot, if I'm honest, but You already know that. You are firm, but fair, you know everything and I know nothing. You have plans for us and I do not always follow them. I walk away from Your light on a daily basis and I pray that You would bring me back to it every day.

I don't know what's going on, Lord, I don't know what I should be doing. Bad stuff is happening, that I know. I pray that You would guide me and give me wisdom. I seem to be once again fighting against the Venators, but they too do Your bidding. Is there really a coup? And who is this boyfriend? I need You to show me these things. I dunno. I don't know Your plan for me, but You have chosen me to do this. What is it that I should do? How can someone like me do anything? How can I stop this? I'm not the person for this. But You have chosen me to do it.

Why me?

But I've asked that many a time and never got an answer other than that I've continued on. I just want to do Your will, Lord. That is all I've ever wanted, but this all seems so hard. I need You.

I pray for the Librarian, that You would give him wisdom and I pray for Garrett, that she would find peace after this break in. I pray that it leads somewhere, their first real mistake, but I also pray that through all this she would find You.

Protect me, please, from the evil forces that I fight against, but also from myself.

Amen.

I got up and went to bed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Early the next morning I was up and at the Librarian's place. I didn't even bother going to the office first or leaving a message for Adelaide. I was a rebel like that.

He had a map out on a table and was looking from it to a book. Looked to be an old map of China. Or at least a map of old China.

"It's early," he said.

"I assumed you would be up. Actually I assumed you didn't sleep."

"Sleep is good for the mind," he told me matter-of-factly.

"I won't disagree."

"You should get more."

Ouch!

"Leave the jokes to me, Librarian."

"Nobody wants that."

"Remind me never to come here in the mornings. I like the grumpy afternoon you better."

"Why have you come?"

"Tea?"

"No thank you."

Tough crowd.

"Someone broke into Garrett's house last night. She shot him and I got fingerprints."

He didn't say anything, just walked off to his office and so I followed.

"Give," he held out his hand as he sat behind his desk.

"Please," I said.

He clicked his fingers impatiently and I handed over the card with the fingerprints. He scanned them into his computer.

"It will take a while," he said looking up at me.

"Cool," I took a seat and he sighed with despair.

"What's in the Box?" I asked.

"I told you, I don't know."

"And if you don't know and if Farouq doesn't know then two questions. Why does anyone care and how did this boyfriend find out?"

"Who says he did?" the Librarian leaned back in his chair.

"Right, 'just anyone'," I quoted. "So maybe he only knows where it is. Again, how does he if you don't?"

"I haven't been looking for it."

"Rubbish, you and Farouq have your ears and eyes out everywhere for stuff like this."

"OK, true. So how did he?"

"It wasn't rhetorical. You have to ask yourself if he really knew anything."

"The people who made the seal thought so."

"Exactly. Which leads to another thought, but go back to my first question. If no one knows what's in the Box, then why the interest in it?"

"It's always been the what-ifs, hasn't it?" he leant forward, leaning his elbows on the desk.

"OK, but that doesn't make it serious. Somewhere there is something that is definite, something that makes people want the Box; believe that it has something of worth in it."

"Maybe not," he mused. "Maybe that definite only came along with the boyfriend."

"I don't think so, because the Venators hid him away. They would only do that if talk of a coup was already happening."

"No," he shook his head. "He comes out and talks about it. People hear and form plans and then the Venators swoop in and snatch him."

"It's possible. Either way, the people who made the seal knew about him, knew what he knew and felt that they could hand him over. Someone sold him out."

"Fairfax," he said.

"Right."

"It would be like him and those he follows."

"Right again. Everyone wants to keep the boyfriend hidden from the Pit angels, but Fairfax is going to give him to them, betray the Air angels."

"So they have him?"

"No. He found out and escaped, that's why they came and saw me, they're hoping I might find him."

"So this person, whoever he is," he nodded to the computer, "is most likely one of your seal makers and is trying to stop you and Garrett."

"Right. We find the boyfriend first and Fairfax's plans are blown. The Kingdom of the Air destroy him from the soul out for betraying them."

"It gets all the more dangerous," the Librarian said leaning back again. "Leave this with me. You need to find these seal-makers; you need to stop them before they stop you."

"Right again. Again," I said and stood.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I got back to the office to find Adelaide doing her nails behind her desk.

"Busy day."

"Terrible," she replied not looking at me. "How was the Librarian?"

"Who said I went there?"

She just gave me a look and I walked into my office. To find Garrett. I backed out again.

"Were you going to tell me we had a guest?"

"Garrett's in your office."

"I know that now."

"Well there you go, job done," she flashed me a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Geez, what a secretary. I walked into the office.

"Detective."

She turned in the chair and watched me walk to mine.

"Any luck?"

"It's a bit early."

"Nothing seems to be happening at the office. Other than me getting questioned. You think they'd be rushing an ID through," she said with irritation.

"There are people out there that wouldn't want that to happen," I reminded her.

"You think there is someone in the department?"

"No," I shook my head. "I just think things can be messed with."

"So no news from the Librarian?"

"No one said I went to see the Librarian," I pushed.

"Adelaide did."

"Well what does she know?"

Garrett just looked at me.

"Alright, alright, I went to see him."

A smug 'ha' came from the reception room which I stoically ignored.

"And?"

"And nothing. He's running the prints. We can't work magic."

"Can't you?"

"Well, OK, yes, sometimes, but not in this."

She deflated a little in the chair.

"Don't be like that," I said.

"I just want to catch them, how dare they break into my house?"

"You're gonna. Seriously. They're out looking for us and they know where we are."

"What does that mean?"

"They're looking for this boyfriend, they knew where he was so they made the seal, right?"

"OK..."

"I think Fairfax sold the boyfriend out, was going to give him to these guys and he found out and escaped."

"So these seal-makers are looking for him and want to stop us finding him first."

"Exactly. The dude came to your house to rub you out, but that didn't happen. Now they'll either be cautious or desperate."

"Either way they'll be coming for us," she said sitting upright again.

"So we need to find them first."

"I can't sit around and wait for a hit on the finger prints," she said.

"I was hoping you'd say that. Want to go to some dark and dingy places full of weird and awful things?"

"Sounds like a day at the office," she grinned.

†

We sat in the corner of a bar and watched as it began to fill up with the lunchtime crowd.

"So what is this place?" Garrett asked.

"There're a number of places like it, places where those involved with demons and the like come to meet, talk and have fun. If you can call what they do fun. Which you shouldn't be able to."

"I get it."

"Right. So a lot of business with demons needs to be kept quiet so it's done in places like this."

"What do you mean, business?"

"I mean business. Demons helping people get ahead, helping to run big businesses. They like that people are obsessed with stuff rather than God.

"Now, they're not the only ones, there are people, like me I guess, on the other side that also need info. Everyone's willing to sell information to get ahead or stay ahead. The point is that these places are meant to be neutral, some more than others."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that some places are not so welcoming of people from our side of the fight. And there are some that we wouldn't want to go in anyway. Sick stuff," I frowned.

"And this one?"

"Pretty friendly," I shrugged.

"The bartender didn't seem happy to see you."

"Yeah. I have a habit of causing trouble in places like this."

"I can't imagine."

"I know, right?"

"Irony."

"Oh."

"So why are we here?"

"For him," I said spying Pollus.

He walked through the thickening crowds to our table.

"Well, well, The Man Who Walks Alone has company," he said in his reedy voice.

"Sit down, Pollus."

"You are buying me a drink?" he grinned.

I threw money on the table and he went to the bar.

"And he is?"

"A free trader. Money to be made even with no interest in either side."

"They won't hurt him for talking to you?"

"Nah. Everyone ignores Pollus, that's his genius. Anyway, everyone does it, very rare to hear that someone got popped for talking in one of these bars."

"But it happens," she pushed.

"Yeah, if it's serious enough."

"This is pretty serious."

I thought about it for a second.

"I suppose so."

Pollus came back and sat down.

"Still not dead then," he said.

"As far as I know."

"That's good. Yes, good. Who's your friend?"

"That I'm not willing to share. Not with you anyway."

He frowned as if I had hurt him. I hadn't, he didn't have a heart, just a piggybank where one should be.

"Charles Underdown," Garrett said.

"Never heard of him," Pollus said eyeing her as if he were a scanner.

"Aimee Peters' boyfriend," I said.

He frowned and shook his head slightly. I took out a 50 note and laid it on the table.

"Know what this is for?" I asked.

He looked at it and then at me before chugging his drink as if he felt he wouldn't get time to drink it.

"Yes," he replied uneasily.

"So the people who murdered Aimee are the ones you seem to think are out to get me. I want to get them first."

He looked at his empty glass, obviously wishing he hadn't been so rash.

"I'll get us all a round as long as you don't talk until I get back," Garrett said and got up.

"Much obliged," Pollus said and then snickered to himself.

I looked at him while I drank my drink.

"She seems nice," he said and snickered again.

"There's not enough snickering in the world," I mused.

"Don't be mean," he said and he really did seem hurt.

"I'm sorry," I actually felt bad; it was a new experience for me.

"So who is she?" he pressed again.

"Ahh, come on, Pollus, I just felt bad for you and you go and ruin it."

"New experience for you?"

"Yeah, kinda."

He snickered and I considered garrotting him with my shoe lace.

Garrett returned with drinks and sat back down. The place was quite full now and she had gotten a number of looks as she walked through. Most that followed her passage met eyes with me and looked away. Bad for business.

"So," she said.

"Yes. Outsiders looking for a way in. Making big claims."

"Like the Box," I interjected because I'm the type of guy that interjects.

"Right," he nodded far too vigorously. "No one gave them much time of day, but some did."

"Who?" Garrett pressed.

"Good technique," Pollus smiled.

He'd worked out who she was, or at least what she was. I rested a foot on my knee and played with my laces.

"Who?" I pushed.

"They've been at Henry's recently, not making such big claims, looking for help."

"She's going to ask it again, then me and then the garrotting begins," I said.

He looked at me confused and I realised I'd only thought about the garrotting. I considered explaining but decided against it. I was so much better at staring than talking.

"Who?" Garrett said.

"I hear they've met a number of people, but they're meeting Streep tonight."

"Thank you," she said.

"And what do I get out of this?" he asked.

I picked up the note from the table. He nodded and got up with his drink.

"Be careful, Harker. Bad people," he nodded to himself.

I was surprised he didn't snicker, but he turned away instead.

"Pollus?" I said.

He turned.

"Yes?"

"Don't be at Henry's tonight," I waved the note before putting it in my pocket.

He shook his head, almost as if to clear it, and then turned and left.

We finished our drinks and then left. Once outside we agreed to meet at my office in the evening and go to Henry's together. She needed to go back to the Station and I had to prepare for what was ahead of us.

"Just one thing," she said as I was about to turn away.

"Just one?"

"The 50. At first I thought it was a bribe, but what was it?"

"For the bar. To cover the cost of damages," I said and walked off.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Adelaide and I sat in my office. We sat on the L-shape of sofas that I had for clients. It was a trade, comfort without being long enough for me to sleep on.

"I hate it when you do this," she said.

"Gotta beat them to the punch," I replied.

"I know that, I just prefer a bit of detective work first."

"Yeah, so do I, but I don't know when they're going to strike. They've tried twice and failed, they won't a third time."

"No word from the Librarian on the prints?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that? I mean, you're the secretary, right?"

"I wish he'd call me," she huffed.

Yeah, I'd be foolish to go there. And amazingly I didn't.

"I don't think it will come back with anything, certainly not soon enough. I don't need to ask if you'll be alright," I said instead.

"No, you don't, but you could."

"Will you be alright? Safe?"

"Of course," she said indignantly and I smiled.

She returned it.

"Let's pray," she said and closed her eyes as she took my hands in hers. "You are great and merciful. You give to us in both Your grace and mercy and we thank You for it, Lord. We are nothing compared to You and yet You keep your watchful hand upon us. We thank You.

"I don't know why You called this man to do this job, Lord, he's an idiot, as you surely know, but perhaps I am wrong, Lord. For You have called him and he has been successful, no doubt due to Your intervention, and he does it because he believes in it. He believes in You and doing that which You want. He lives according to Your plan, O Lord, please keep him safe this night. Even if what he is doing is stupid, he does it to try and keep the rest of us safe.

"There are dangerous people abroad this night, Lord, I pray You will keep your hand upon him and bring him back to this office in the morning.

"And agree to my holiday request. Amen."

"Amen," I said. "Except to that being an idiot stuff. And that holiday request. Oh, go on then. Keep us safe, Lord, once again we approach the Abyss. Amen."

We looked at each other and then she dropped her hands from mine.

"I'll start booking flights," she said happily.

"Not until this is all over," I said.

"Wouldn't think of it," she said and then she put a palm to my cheek.

We looked at each other for a minute and then she dropped her hand, got up and went back to her desk.

"I'm going home," she called through the open door.

"We spent good money on an intercom," I called back.

"No. You did."

"Damn right. Very professional," I said to myself as I got up. I leant over the desk and pressed the intercom. "Very professional," I said into it.

"I'm going home" she called through the door.

†

We ended up meeting at Henry's and Garrett looked striking in a trousers and jacket ensemble that barely hid the bulge of her gun.

"Expecting trouble?" I asked.

She looked me up and down.

"Yes," she nodded.

"Good."

I was wearing smart trousers, an open collared shirt and fastened waistcoat. Fancy, I thought.

"Fancy," she said.

"That's what I thought."

"And ease of movement. You're not so stupid."

"I take the compliments where I get them," I grinned.

We walked into Henry's and I signalled a waiter to follow us to the table.

"Do I need to say that the proprietor is not looking for trouble?" the waiter asked.

"Nope. Whiskey straight. No ice," I looked at Garrett.

"Screw it, I'll have the same."

"Very well," he said and walked away.

"You said these places were all about business."

"Yeah," I said looking around.

The half-naked pole-dancing girls didn't make it seem very business-like.

"So demons are in business?"

"Yeah, some."

"What about higher up?"

I looked at her.

"No. Not generally. There are people who stop that from happening, stop demons and Fallen from getting too much power."

"Oh yeah?"

"The Venators," I answered her unasked question.

"Who are they? Like you?"

"No," I laughed. "They don't like me."

"Shocking."

"I know, right?"

"No."

"I like me," I said as the waiter came back and put our drinks down. "There's Streep," I nodded across the bar.

She looked around to a booth in the corner where a fat man in a suit was surrounded by muscle and pretty girls.

"Looks hard to get to."

"You scared of pretty girls?"

"Funny."

"The muscle aren't the people we need to worry about. Whether he has demons around."

I sipped my whisky. Why the hell had I ordered booze? Because I didn't want to associate this to my life. Because I didn't want to be here, didn't want to remember.

"So we wait?" she asked.

"Yeah. For as long as I can."

"What does that mean? We want who he is meeting."

I cracked my knuckles, I was feeling edgy, all this evil around me.

"It's gonna get pretty sick soon," I said.

"How sick? I thought these places were neutral ground."

"No," I shook my head. "These are demon places. It's just understood that people like us can come in for information without getting killed and in turn we don't cause trouble."

Scantily clad women and men had come into the bar and were performing various sex acts on people in the booths and then the lights dimmed, the music boomed and naked women came out dancing.

They dragged a naked man out, he was struggling and gagged. The women went about the room with knives offering them to people for money. One man paid and went up and cut the bound man across the chest. There was applause from those in the room as a woman went up and cut into his forehead.

"Harker, what are they doing?" she asked in shock.

"He signed up for this, thought it would grant him more power or something," I said.

"You can't just sit here and watch this," she urged as someone else cut the man deep in the leg.

"We're here for the seal makers. We need to find them before they find us and we still need to find the boyfriend. You need to get it together; need to accept some things."

She looked at me with hurt in her eyes, but then slowly nodded. I was right, she knew I was right and I knew that she knew. She wasn't weak, she was just unaccustomed; this was not her world. It was her job to see things like this and stop it. But of course she understood that she had to let some things slide to get to others. It didn't mean she had to like it though.

"You'll get your chance soon enough," I assured her.

"Good," she said and took a drink.

There was quite a lot of blood now and the man was still thrashing around as if in a nightclub. I understood how Garrett felt, the man would bleed out soon enough and then be dead. I wanted to shoot him now to save him the trouble. Wanted to shoot all the people and demons that were doing this to him.

But I wanted the people behind that seal even more. I was supposed to be a detective, we both were, but this had become a case of stopping them before they stopped you. Or me. Me more than you. At least you hope. With the seal-makers out of the way, I didn't even know if there would be a case to follow. Would it die with them, or were there others involved?

"Heads up," Garrett said.

I looked over at Streep's table and sure enough three men and a woman were walking over to it. You could tell they didn't fit. Not because they were looking around, but because they weren't. They were trying desperately not to look, trying to act as if they fit in.

"Decision time. Do we take them now or wait and try and pump Streep for the information later?" I asked.

She looked at the table. The pretty girls were up and leaving, not looking too happy about it, and the four arrivals were sitting down.

"I don't think we should let them leave."

"No, I agree and we can always find Streep later."

"Then let's go and say hello."

"It's going to get messy, Garrett."

"Will others get involved?"

"Some will. We're breaking the rules and they'd love to have a crack at people like us."

"Then we crank it straight up, show them we mean business."

I nodded.

"On the same page then."

We gave it enough time for information to be passed before we walked over to the bar and I signalled to the barman. As he came over I laid down two notes on the bar.

"Oh, no. Harker come on."

"Hey, we just want to talk. Others might want to get rough and you know they won't pay. Think of this as insurance money."

I walked over to the booth that thankfully held nothing more than drinks on their table.

"This is a private booth," one of the bodyguards said, standing up and trying to block me off.

"You must be new," I replied.

He looked at his boss, unsure.

"He is, don't hurt him," Streep said.

"Sit down then, pussycat," I told the muscle.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," he said and Streep sighed.

I took a sip of my whisky and then broke the glass over his forehead. He stumbled, tried to grab the booth and fell away to the floor.

"I didn't want to do that," I said.

"Oh, but you did," Streep smiled in glee.

"Not to him."

"But you've made your point, haven't you?"

"Have I?" I asked looking at the four seal-makers.

"Harker. Oh, we know who you are. You don't scare us."

"Well, no, I haven't used my scary voice yet," I said.

"Oh, you should hear it," Streep said. He was enjoying this.

"We have an issue. You want to rub me out and I don't want that," I told them.

"You're not a bother to us," the man sitting closest to us said.

"Oh no?" Garrett asked and in one quick motion grabbed his hair and pulled his head down onto her raised knee.

There was blood and he collapsed back holding his broken nose.

"The fact is you're a bother to us and so we need to stop that," I said.

"Enough, Harker," another bodyguard said standing.

"Sit down, Paul," I warned.

"You can't..."

"I said sit down," I commanded.

He did, but we'd already garnered the attention of others in the bar.

"Now this can be civil," I said.

"Seems we've gone beyond that," Streep mused.

"You're sickos. Except for Streep here. And his muscle, who are just trying to earn some dough. I don't even know if you count as sickos yet, to be honest. Who do you work for?" I asked.

It was a futile question.

"Do you really think..." the woman started to say when I flipped the table over.

It went sideways and landed on the poor bodyguard who was still picking glass out of his face. I felt sorry for the guy, I really did.

"Now, come on, Harker," Streep insisted.

"Nope. All bets are off, the problem is you guys don't count, you're too low, not even proper sickos. I'll ask again."

One of the men stood up, but just before he was fully standing, Garrett lamped him across the jaw and he fell back.

"We don't play nice," she said.

"Harker," a voice came from behind me.

"Back off," I side without turning. "I start it and it's murder, I don't do that, but if you start it, it's self-defence. I do that."

I heard the shuffle of feet.

"Where were we?" I asked.

"You were leaving," the woman said as her eyes flicked over my shoulder.

It was always going to happen, as soon as we started pressing people for information others would come to help them.

"You don't know who these people are, they're here to bring trouble on everyone," I said loudly without turning.

"Only trouble I see here is you," he sounded big.

"But you haven't even looked," I protested as I turned around.

He was not a small man, with a face only a mother could love and biceps bigger than my head. He was also an Avatar. You could see it in their eyes, and if you knew what to listen for, hear it in their voice.

"Reckon I'd be pretty popular for taking care of you, Harker."

"I haven't broken the peace, are you willing to?"

"You smashed our table and our drinks," Streep pointed out.

I looked up at the brute, meeting his gaze.

"I'm just here to make sure you leave these nice people alone," he said eventually.

Yeah, he knew the types of people that would come after him if he took me out and apparently today wasn't a good day to be hunted down.

"Not happening, scumbag, these people rolled the dice and now it's come calling."

"The dice have come calling?" he asked.

"Yeah, mixed metaphor, not to worry."

"No one's going to sit back and watch you cause trouble," Streep helpfully pointed out.

Garrett had kept her eyes on the seal-makers but now I saw her look around the bar.

The woman smiled.

"Your move," she said.

The odds weren't great, but I was willing to take them. Problem was that we probably wouldn't make it out alive. If we did it would be in an ambulance and someone would finish us off in the hospital. On the other hand we couldn't let these seal-makers go; this would only make them more eager to kill us quickly. It had never been a great plan, but it was what it was. First thing first I was going to have to take out this brute.

But I didn't have to.

He crumpled at the knees with a surprised look on his face and as I saw the culprit I turned and grabbed one of the seal-makers by the hand, pulled him out of his seat and let his chin meet with the palm of my hand. He fell back into his seat unconscious.

"Heard there was going to be a fight," Jules said.

Adelaide.

"Well there will be now," I exasperated, but boy, was I glad to see her.

The only uninjured male seal-maker leapt to his feet at a distracted Garrett, but she saw him and sidestepped. He lunged past her and she grabbed an arm and twisted it so he buckled to the floor. It made a nasty noise as it broke.

"Cuffs," I shouted to her, I knew she'd have some on her, she was police.

She threw them to me and I deftly cuffed Streep to the booth before clonking his head against the other body guard, Paul.

Now the whole bar knew what was up. We had broken the rules and were fair game.

The woman went for Garrett as someone tried to bottle Jules. I ducked a swinging fist and rammed my own fist into their gut.

We were trapped in the corner and I had a bad feeling this might have been a trap. It was pretty coincidental that Streep had been meeting them on the very day we were looking. Could Pollus have sold us down the river? Of course he could.

For now we had to fight our way to the door.

"Bring her with us," I shouted at Garrett.

She punched the woman again and grabbed her hair.

A bar stool came sailing towards us and Jules grabbed it in mid-air and smacked two men with it. I was impressed. I just kicked a couple of people and got punched a few times.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"It was incredible. Jules grabbed a bar stool out of mid-air," I enthused.

"You kidnapped someone," the Librarian said disapprovingly.

"Kinda."

"We did what we needed to do," Jules said.

"Oh really? And since when did the Venators care about anything but their own machinations?" the Librarian accused.

Jules looked hurt. Not in her face, it just passed through her eyes. That's about all the emotion you get from a Venator.

"If they know where the boyfriend is then we're interested."

"But they don't," Garrett said.

"No," I agreed. "They were hoping Streep had some info."

"Then why have we got her?" Jules asked angrily.

"Because they're trying to kill us," I exasperated.

"She doesn't care about that," the Librarian said.

"That's not true," Jules shot back.

"Whatever."

"Can we focus?" Garrett asked. "It's like a soap opera in here."

"They do much kidnapping in soaps these days? I must catch up," the Librarian sarcasticised.

The 'in here' in question was a small warehouse in a storage yard. And while it actually did store stuff closer to the door, the back was empty save a chair that was bolted to the ground. In that chair was the woman, blindfolded and tied to its arms by thick leather straps.

"Yeah, about that. Hadn't really thought this through. Are we going to torture her?"

"Do you want to?" Jules asked.

"No," I said emphatically.

"So be it," she shrugged.

The woman laughed.

"You people are pathetic."

"Just him," Jules said.

"Well that's great, isn't it? A united front," I whinged.

"What then? You want information, but you don't want to get it," Jules spat angrily. "What are you going to do? Just ask her?"

I shrugged with a 'you don't think that'll work' type of face.

"Er, who do you work for? Who's trying to kill us?"

"And why?" Garrett added.

"I thought we knew that?" I said.

"I'm starting to question what you know," she replied.

"Do you really think I'll tell you?" the woman grinned.

"I don't think you know," I said.

"I also question what you know," she continued to grin. It was good to see someone was enjoying all of this.

"I could hit her for you," Jules offered.

"You're too low level," I told the woman.

"So you've said."

"Name one demon you met in all of this," I demanded.

"Why? So you can chase them down?"

"You're right, she doesn't know," the Librarian said.

"Anybody who had met a demon would tell us for protection," Jules said.

"Agreed," I, er, agreed.

"What do you mean?" Garrett asked.

"It's not like normal criminal activity where you hide your bosses. Here we're dealing with stronger powers and you want everyone to know you're aligned with one. You hope that the demon or Fallen you're with is enough to scare people like us off," I explained.

"And so she just told us that she doesn't know any demons," Garrett stated.

"It's trickery," the woman decried.

"No one will miss her," Jules said. "Think about it, one less person trying to kill you."

"That's not how I work," I said angrily.

"And that's why you're not a Venator," she snapped back. "We work for the greater good."

"That's not how it works," I said. "Librarian?"

"Actually I agree with her this time. She works for evil, you work for good. I'd rather have you around than her."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," I exasperated.

"This is pointless, she is pointless," Jules said emphatically. "Just go, let me find the information."

"This is not me. I don't need this, I'm gone," Garrett said and left without another word.

"Well now the law is gone we can do what we need to," Jules said.

"She'll tell," the Librarian said.

"No she won't," Jules replied. "Who would believe her?"

"Good."

"I'll ask you again," I said to the woman.

"What will you do? Nothing," she replied, but her calm had broken.

"Once we've pulled her fingernails, we'll move on to teeth and then limbs. I can keep her alive a long time, long enough for her to tell us."

"And the worst part," I said.

Jules nodded.

"That she will want death, but won't. She must know the eternal torment laid out for those who side with Satan, worse still for those that cross him. She will not be able to stand the pain, nor will she want to die knowing that greater pain awaits her.

"Fine, whatever," I said dejectedly.

"Samyaza," the woman bleated.

"Oh come on," Jules said.

"She lies or knows nothing," the Librarian agreed.

"Nelchael. That's what I was told," she pleaded.

"You expect us to believe that?" I asked and then sighed. "We'll have to force it out of her."

"No. I can't stand here and watch you torture someone. This is not who we are, Harker," the Librarian said.

"It's what we have to do," I replied.

"I won't."

"Then go," Jules said angrily.

"Fine."

"They won't protect you," I warned.

"I don't want their protection, nor anything to do with you," he snapped back.

"Then get out of here, you're wasting our time," Jules commanded.

"God have mercy on your souls," he said and left.

"No more lies," Jules grinned.

"Wait. Please. It's true. You're right, I'm nothing. That's why they sent us, to lure you in. But the names I give you are true."

"Where are your superiors?" I asked.

Jules took her hand and held a fingernail with a pair of pliers. The woman began to talk; it spilled from her mouth.

"I don't know, I told you, I was just a decoy. They knew you would go in to stop us. I was just trying to prove myself. We were contacted and told what to do, we were told that we would be let into the inner circle, that there would be great rewards for our service. It was Streep, I think, he wanted you. I don't know. I told you names, names I had heard, but I wasn't supposed to know them."

"It's enough," I said.

"We can get more," Jules urged.

"We can't, she doesn't know."

"Don't go soft on me now."

"The Librarian was right, this isn't us."

"Isn't you."

"So be it. I'm taking her."

"To do what? Have a cuddle and a cup of tea?"

"Letting her go."

"She'll go to them," Jules told me.

"So be it, I won't do this."

"Then you're on your own, all of you," Jules said angrily. "Come on, Harker," she almost pleaded.

"No," I was firm.

"Then I leave you all to your destruction."

With that she left.

Later I pulled the woman out of my car and stood her up next to the river as the moon was sinking through the clouds. I untied her hands and then pulled off her blindfold. We stood there looking at each other for a minute before she spoke.

"You're seriously letting me go," a statement not a question.

I looked around.

"Apparently."

"You're an idiot."

"So they tell me."

"This is why you will fall," she told me.

"This is why I'm the good guy and you're not," I told her.

"As if there are such distinctions," she scoffed.

"You see? That's why you'll fall. There are definitely distinctions. I'm sorry, but the world doesn't revolve around you and what you want it to be, it revolves around Him, whether you like it or not."

"Weak and pitiful," she spat.

"Yup, that whole making the Universe thing, absolutely weak," I smiled at her and saw her eyes fume.

"His time is over," she said haughtily.

"He created time."

"I could just kill you now," she threatened.

"No you couldn't," I shook my head.

She thought about it, or what approximated thought in her silly little head, and decided not to try and find out. Instead I walked back to my car, got in and drove off.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Back at my office I was surprised to find Adelaide there. I mean, she wasn't working or anything, just reading a magazine. I decided to ignore her and go straight to my desk. I didn't even know why I'd come back here, but I knew I didn't want to talk. What I wanted was a drink and I cursed myself for my weakness. It didn't work though. I still wanted one. I didn't even bother to look in the places where I hid bottles, I knew that Adelaide found them and got rid of the alcohol. Bless her, she was doing what was right for me even though I didn't want her to.

In the corner of the room where the door opened I had two sofas at right angles with a little table. I used it more than I thought I would when Adelaide had bought and installed it. You see, the guest chair was actually made purposely uncomfortable to encourage people to want to leave. Only those who were truly serious about help stayed sitting in it. And then I would take them over to the sofas. Sofas put people at ease, help them to talk through what sounded silly coming out of their mouths. I really didn't think I'd get that far with most clients.

It was here that Adelaide put down the bottle and two glasses.

"You're going to anyway. You'll try not to and your head will feel like it's going to explode and then you will. You'll go overboard."

I watched her from behind my desk as she put down the whisky and sat down. She was right. I hated myself for it, for my failing and addiction, but she was right. I hated it even more that she knew it too, it wasn't a secret shame, but a public one. She poured a glass for us both and I got up and sat on the couch opposite to her.

"How did it go?" she asked.

"Better because of you."

She took a sip of drink instead of answering. I knew she didn't like calling upon the Venators, didn't like them at all.

"So did you learn anything?" she asked.

"Yes. I think so," I told her everything that had happened. "I need to go back to the start, need to lay it all out."

"Go on then."

"They knew, the Venators and this lot that made the seal. They both knew and the seal makers thought they were close to getting to the boyfriend and the Box. But they didn't have him. The Venators also knew about the boyfriend, I think they had him at one point."

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't he go to his girlfriend? Because he couldn't."

"Or because he knew too much was at stake," she said.

I shook my head in frustration.

"It doesn't make sense. There would be no point torturing her if they weren't in contact with him. If they were in contact with him, why couldn't they just go and get him?"

"But if the Venators had him then they couldn't be in contact with him."

"Unless Fairfax was selling him out."

"That sounds like him and his lot," Adelaide agreed.

"So he's feeding the boyfriend the information hoping that he would leave the Venator's protection, but instead he escapes into hiding."

"Which is why they came to see you, they couldn't find him."

"Right. But that's some powerful magic right there. Where does he suddenly get that from?"

She thought about it.

"I don't know. What if it wasn't the boyfriend, but the Peters girl all along?"

"No," I shook my head. "If they got information from her then this would be a different game and if she didn't give it then all this would have ended there."

"What if nobody had him? What if he was already protected?"

"Then why would the Venators want him? It makes sense that they teamed up with Fairfax to chase down these seal makers and end it. They wouldn't do that if they knew this boyfriend was safe."

"So your theory still stands," she said and took a drink.

"But Jules has never said anything on it. Never said they had him."

"She wouldn't admit that to you. You're just a source of information to them."

"But again, why would he leave? Why not just tell them that Fairfax was selling him out? Why would someone else protect him from the good guys?"

"Maybe someone thought the Venators weren't the good guys."

"Maybe, but despite our feelings for them and their methods, they are working for good."

"You have a sound theory," she pressed.

"And it doesn't get us any closer," I said angry with myself. "I said we had to go back to the beginning, what was that? We came into this to try and catch some people who were murdering innocents and we've gotten side-tracked."

"And now they will find you."

"Right. But what does everyone keep saying? That people are talking about me. Right from the start. Why?"

She waited for me to go on.

"We never came into this at the beginning," I said. "If we're ever to solve this, stop this, then we need to know."

"How did the boyfriend, these seal makers, as you call them, and the Venators know about the Box."

"And the Codex. Right. How did this start? Everyone says the Box is a myth, Jules said that it wasn't important, that the coup was. How did everyone know about this coup? How come we didn't hear anything?"

"The boyfriend knew."

"Right, that would have to be it, but how the hell did this guy know? How do you come out of nowhere with such information and then also have the magical ability to hide from people whose job it is to find such things?"

"Including you," she smiled a little.

"Not me. The Librarian; Farouq. How did a group of humans find this knowledge? The seal tells us that they were using it as leverage, meaning the demonic world didn't know of it. It doesn't make sense."

She stood up.

"I'll call a taxi for us both. I'm taking the bottle with me. Tomorrow go back to the start."

I got home to my apartment and wandered through it to make sure I was alone. Satisfied, I plonked myself down on the sofa with a bottle and a glass. I took a long drink. Once again I regretted not having a clear mind, but it was too late for that now. I was spiralling. Hating myself for drinking instead of being sober and drinking to dull my self-loathing.

I wanted to be better than this, I wanted to be a better Christian, I wanted to make Him proud of me and once again I wondered if I had Him all wrong. The people at church seemed so good, so happy to be Christians while I struggled with it. They had been saved and they were thankful for it while I still fought against God and the World. If I didn't have the joy they had, maybe it was because I wasn't really a Christian. Maybe I had it all wrong, maybe I was lost in a delusion of being saved when, in reality, I was not. But that couldn't be true, could it? Salvation came to all those who declared God as true and Jesus as their personal Saviour, it didn't matter who you were. What you did or had done. It was what the World could not understand. No justice for those that repented, no crime too bad for Forgiveness.

But as others eschewed their previous way of life, I continued to wallow in my own sins rather than start a new life. I was the one that was deciding that I wasn't worthy enough and I was making sure that that was the case.

I looked at the drink in my hand and I should have poured it away and promised to do better, but I knew that that was a lie and instead I drank the alcohol down to wash away my thoughts. Filled my glass back up while hating myself for doing so. Purposely doing what I didn't want to do to try and prove to Him that I was unworthy of his Love.

No.

Trying to prove to myself that I wasn't. Trying to decide my own judgment rather letting Him save me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN

She rang early.

"Didn't think you were talking to me," I said.

"That was the plan," Garrett replied.

"But?"

"There's been another murder overnight. I'm calling you in as an expert on the Occult."

"They're not hiding it this time then."

"Apparently not. And Harker?"

"Yeah?"

"People know of you, there were a few groans at the mention of your name."

"I normally get sighs."

"Try not to be annoying."

"I always try," I said.

"Try harder," she gave me an address and cut the connection.

I finished my strong coffee, poured another one, showered and then drank it. Then I went to the address she had given me.

I was led into a house that had been taped up with crime scene paraphernalia and could see from an instant why I was being allowed in. It certainly looked occult, but looking past that it was just a brutal slaying of a normal family.

I was thankful for the sickness I felt in my stomach and mind, it showed that I wasn't immune to this kind of thing. Once again there were the signs of Voodoo, but they were rushed. Those that had done this were desperate, that I could see.

"Second one in a matter of weeks, we need to nail these religious freaks," a detective was saying.

I felt sicker. I knew it wasn't Voodoo, but what could I say? Oh no, this only looks like Voodoo, actually it's a demonic ritual? I couldn't protect those that were innocent, nor blame those that were guilty. No one would believe me. No one but her. She came over to me.

"I don't want to know what you see. Not here," Garrett said.

"Not Voodoo," I replied.

"I know that," she spat.

"Harker," a detective said.

"Just having a look," I told him.

"You shouldn't be here."

"But here I am, so why not let me help, huh?"

"Never known you to be of help," he said and wandered off.

Ahh, he had been a detective on the last bad run we'd had. He'd wanted answers that I couldn't give, at least not to him, and that made me seem like a hassle not a help. No one wanted to believe in spiritual matters, they wanted facts as science dictated them. Or at least what they thought science was. Even science made the Universe seem weird, but ordinary people didn't want to know that. They didn't want a science with more questions than answers any more than they wanted a religion that involved sacrifices. They just wanted to believe that what they were doing was OK and the best way to do that was to keep your head in the ground.

The murder scene was abhorrent, it was difficult to understand how anyone could do this to their fellow human beings. That in itself was a reminder of who these people were and those that they worked for, or wished to be a part of. There was something more to be had and that was more than what mere humans could imagine, we were just cattle. If the death of a couple of unassuming, unknowing people led to something greater, then it was worth it. They didn't believe in Heaven so they were nothing.

And that was the point.

Everyone wanted Heaven. It was just that some didn't want it as controlled by God. Or others who wanted it, but simply didn't want to be told how they had to gain it, they thought they deserved it. They were the saddest, like the people who had committed this heinous crime. Those that would do anything to gain Heaven other than the accepted way. They didn't want to kowtow to anyone, didn't want to be told how, when or why they had to do things; didn't want to earn what they believed should be theirs anyway. By breaking the rules they thought they were finding their own way in without realising they were kowtowing to another, more evil, entity.

A family butchered, their insides outside, formed in death to be a family unit. The blood that had pumped inside of them had been pumped out. Their corpses had been made to hold hands, something I knew had been denied to them as they died. There had been no God in those moments, no goodness, no Truth, only pain and evil and questions that I hoped would be answered as they were embraced by Him Himself in the next life.

Anger.

It enveloped me.

I had to force myself to look at the crime scene, take in all the details, take photos even though I knew I would never look at them. I knew what this was and I knew it was pointless. I should have looked deeper earlier, it should have been the first thing I had done. I should have gone to the root, but I hadn't, I had been distracted.

"What is it?" Garrett asked me outside.

"Fortune telling. They're trying to find the boyfriend. It's a method for seeing beyond this plane," I said bitterly.

"Has it worked?"

"They'll be coming for you now. You shouldn't have found this so fast. How did you?"

"Anonymous tipoff."

"Of course," I smiled bitterly. Just add lemon and lime to me. "Too many mysterious people."

"What do you mean?"

"Doesn't matter."

"It does" she pushed.

"It will, not now."

"I joined up with you to stop murders, Harker, doesn't look like that's happening."

"No," I shook my head sadly.

"Is that all you've got?" she asked angrily.

"No. Yes. I've messed this up, but I'm on track now, I promise."

"How?"

"What?"

"How did you mess this up?"

I looked back at the sad suburban house.

"This isn't the time or place."

"No, you're right," she agreed. "So when and where."

"They're coming for you," I said again.

"We knew that."

"But this has forced their hand. They'll come today."

"I don't care about them, I can handle them. I want to know what you know. I want to stop this."

"Then we do both at once," I said.
CHAPTER TWENTY

"I've put up the closed sign for you," I called through the shop.

We met at the counter.

"There's a saying about you, Harker," Farouq said.

"Something about my sparkling wit, no doubt," I replied.

"They say," he said ignoring me, "that a visit from the Man Who Walks Alone is bad luck, a second visit is trouble."

"And a third?"

"The only people who the Man Who Walks Alone visits for a third time are dead without yet knowing it."

"I've visited you more than three times, is there a prescribed gap or something?"

Farouq laughed.

"I don't think anyone has ever thought about it. I think anyone who sees you regularly prays for their soul each and every morning they awaken."

"I'm not that bad."

"No. You're that good."

"You're annoying me now, Farouq and I'm already angry."

"Second time is trouble," he said and crossed himself.

I'd never seen him do that before, but then I'd never come here this angry.

†

I'd gone home from the crime scene and I would have drank, I would have drank the day away, but I knew I couldn't and that made me angrier, angry that I had to face this. I didn't want to see evil, I didn't want this life, I wanted a house in the suburbs rather than a flat that was too small to hide demons. I wanted a wife and kids and a 9 to 5 job. I wanted to pretend that the world was a nice place and that bad things happened to other people.

He stopped me from drinking. Maybe he knew I would.

He sat in my armchair singing a tune, my Bible was in his hands.

"Really? Now?"

He kept singing as he motioned for me to sit on the sofa. I did.

"Nice tune."

"It's called 'Lilies'," Michael said.

"I'll share it at church next time; I'll be famous for knowing it."

"No you won't."

"What do you want?"

"You know where it comes from."

"Psalm 69. For the director of music. To the tune of "Lilies." Of David".

"Very good," Michael nodded. "Quote it to me."

"No."

"You're angry."

"Of course I am," I shouted.

"Not with me though."

"No, I'm sorry."

The Archangel nodded. He waved my Bible at me.

"Quote it to me."

"Save me, O God; for the waters are come in unto my soul.

I sink in deep mire, where there is no standing: I am come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me.

I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God.

They that hate me without a cause are more than the hairs of mine head: they that would destroy me, being mine enemies wrongfully, are mighty: then I restored that which I took not away.

O God, you know my foolishness; and my sins are not hid from you.

Let not them that wait on you, O Lord God of hosts, be ashamed for my sake: let not those that seek you be confounded for my sake, O God of Israel.

Because for your sake I have borne reproach; shame has covered my face.

I am become a stranger unto my brethren, and an alien unto my mother's children.

For the zeal of your house has consumed me; and the reproaches of them that reproached you are fallen upon me.

When I wept, and chastened my soul with fasting, that was to my reproach.

I made sackcloth also my garment; and I became a proverb to them.

They that sit in the gate speak against me; and I was the song of the drunkards.

But as for me, my prayer is unto you, O Lord, in an acceptable time: O God, in the multitude of your mercy hear me, in the truth of your salvation.

Deliver me out of the mire, and let me not sink: let me be delivered from them that hate me, and out of the deep waters.

Let not the waterflood overflow me, neither let the deep swallow me up, and let not the pit shut her mouth upon me.

Hear me, O Lord; for your lovingkindness is good: turn unto me according to the multitude of your tender mercies.

And hide not your face from your servant; for I am in trouble: hear me speedily.

Draw nigh unto my soul, and redeem it: deliver me because of mine enemies.

You have known my reproach, and my shame, and my dishonour: mine adversaries are all before thee.

Reproach has broken my heart; and I am full of heaviness: and I looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none.

They gave me also gall for my meat; and in my thirst they gave me vinegar to drink.

Let their table become a snare before them: and that which should have been for their welfare, let it become a trap.

Let their eyes be darkened, that they see not; and make their loins continually to shake.

Pour out your indignation upon them, and let your wrathful anger take hold of them.

Let their habitation be desolate; and let none dwell in their tents.

For they persecute him whom you have smitten; and they talk to the grief of those whom you have wounded.

Add iniquity unto their iniquity: and let them not come into thy righteousness.

Let them be blotted out of the book of the living, and not be written with the righteous.

But I am poor and sorrowful: let thy salvation, O God, set me up on high.

I will praise the name of God with a song, and will magnify him with thanksgiving.

This also shall please the Lord better than an ox or bullock that hath horns and hoofs.

The humble shall see this, and be glad: and your heart shall live that seek God.

For the Lord hears the poor, and despises not his prisoners.

Let the heaven and earth praise him, the seas, and everything that moves therein.

For God will save Zion, and will build the cities of Judah: that they may dwell there, and have it in possession.

The seed also of his servants shall inherit it: and they that love his name shall dwell therein."

"This is your prayer, is it not?" he asked me.

I shrunk back; this knowing of my heart.

"This is why you are angry. That you think your Lord has forgotten you."

"No. I know He forgets no one, loves everyone," I said forcefully and Michael nodded.

"He sees you, He sees that your struggle is His struggle. He sees your anger and He reaches His right hand out to you."

"I'm left handed," I said.

"Always so contrary, I don't know what He sees in you, but He loves you nonetheless. The Man Who Walks Alone. That is what they call you."

"So?"

"So you don't walk alone. You never have. He has always walked with you. All of you," he picked up a chess piece that sat on the side table there.

It was a knight and he considered it before placing it on my Bible that now sat in his lap.

"You know what I do?"

"You're the leader of the Armies of the Lord," I said.

"I am. I wage war. What does that tell you?"

"That you've been demoted to messenger?"

He snorted a laugh.

"Don't let Gabriel hear you say that."

"I'm assuming he just did."

"Very true. It means that even we fight, Harker. Fighting is OK if we are protecting that which is right. These are verses for you, Harker, I'm sure you see that, but there is something more to them, is there not?"

"John 2 verse 17," I said.

"Yes. Righteous anger, Harker."

And then he was gone. Never a goodbye. I got up and looked at the chair. The knight stood on the opened pages. I read and understood.

†

"You said someone had come to see you, that's how you knew about the Box. Who came to you?"

"I'm neutral," he almost, almost, pleaded.

"No one's neutral now, Farouq. You should have known, I think you did."

"I didn't," he insisted.

"This wouldn't have passed you by. But who? Who came to see you?"

"You can't ask me to tell you that," now he was pleading.

"I am asking you," I said.

He could see the anger in my eyes, it must have exuded from me. He was scared.

But not as scared as he was going to be.

"Harker there is a balance," he argued feebly.

"Nope. Not anymore. John 2 v 17."

He shook visibly.

"No."

"I've been commissioned, Farouq."

"I haven't done anything wrong to invoke His wrath," he trembled.

"Then don't withhold from me. This doesn't have to have anything to do with you."

He regained his composure somewhat.

"I should have known, I always saw it in you," he said. "The Man Who Walks Alone."

"I'm not in the mood."

"I had a visit from a Venator, Tyrell I think, talked about a coup, wanted to know what I had heard. He was very open with his information. For a Venator."

"But you hadn't heard anything."

"No."

"What did he say? How did they hear of it if you hadn't?"

"That he didn't say," Farouq shook his head. "He said that the Box had surfaced, maybe also the Codex. Wanted to know what I knew of either of them. Said that others were looking, looking to upset the present balance."

"He say who they were?"

"No. I asked, told him I needed to know who might come asking questions, but he wouldn't say. Told me I'd know if they came here."

"How, Farouq? How did these guys find this information? Where's the source?" I shook my head in frustration.

He looked at me silently, knowing that I wasn't really asking him. I kinda hoped he'd give me an answer though. His silence told me he didn't know.

"What do you know about the Box and Codex?"

"Nothing more than your Librarian can tell you, but I can think, I can reason."

"And?"

"Travel guides."

"Travel guides?"

"Yes. What we know of the Codex is that it is a documentation of Solomon's travels into pleasure and pain. It could be that it outlines not just his experiences, but where he went and how he got there."

I thought about it. It meant nothing for now, didn't help me in my quest for the source, but it was something to squirrel away in the back of my mind.

I nodded.

"OK, Farouq. Thank you."

"I try to help, Harker, just like you."

"Yeah."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I got two phone calls as I drove back to my office. The first was from the Librarian.

"Troy Colby," he said.

"Wrong number," I replied.

"Funny, Harker. The man who broke into Garrett's place."

"Anything on him?"

"Not much, that's why it's taken so long. I found a few minor arrests abroad, nothing the local cops would hit on in a normal search."

"So he was a small time crook," I said. That wasn't very helpful. My sentence or the fact.

"Looks like it, but I've searched him up on the dark web."

"Oh yeah?"

"It took some time, hacking aliases, but he's been fishing for some bad stuff."

"So he's small time before he meets a demon or a sicko and then..."

"Yeah. Looking for the big time."

"OK, I'll swing by. Wait I've got another call coming in."

"I never knew you were so popular," he said before disconnecting.

Neither did I. It was the divert from the office phone.

"Hello?"

"Harker?" A gruff voice asked.

"Couldn't have been me, I'm not even there, Kev."

"No, it's your friend; at least they tell me she's your friend. Didn't know you had any."

"This isn't the time to be trying to be funny, Kev."

"She's here, she's making a fuss. I dunno, I thought you'd want to know, she could get in a lot of trouble."

"I'm on my way, don't let anything happen to her, Kev."

"I don't want trouble, Harker."

"You'll have it if she's hurt," I warned.

†

I got to the door and Kev let me in, telling me where she was sitting. He told me he'd had a word to leave her alone, she was just drunk and not a problem.

"Still, people are eyeing her up, Harker. My threat will only stop them for so long."

"I'm here now," I smiled.

"That doesn't make me feel any better, Harker."

"Just close the door behind me and don't come in until the screaming has stopped."

"Don't joke," he moaned.

"Who says I'm joking?" I winked at him. "I am though," seriously. "Don't worry."

The bar was dark, lit with red bulbs and the odd roving spotlight. There were girls dancing with more snakes than clothes. I'm pretty sure there were people drinking blood; it was alleged to extend your life, but I think most of the time demons just liked watching people drink the blood of others. There was only one person I had met, and a handful I had heard of, that had lived extraordinarily long lives through demonic help.

I walked through and got the usual glares, though some knowing glances and smiles. It wasn't hard to find Garrett, she was sitting alone in a booth, drunkenly shouting at others in the bar. You could see they wanted to shut her up, wanted to kill her, but they were wary. Was she really just a drunken no one? If she was how did she get in? Would killing her cause them more trouble than it was worth? Would drinking her blood really extend their life, or just give them a stomach-ache in the morning?

I saw them before they saw me and I diverted to the bar (much to the bartender's chagrin) and ordered a drink after the usual not causing trouble spiel. I reckon they give it out on a card to new employees along with my photo. 'Oh, Mr. Harker, hang on a minute, I have a card here. No, not this pocket, hang on, here it is [scans it], we don't want any trouble, Harker...'

I promised nothing.

I barely had my drink in hand when they were reaching her booth. I don't think they saw it, but I did. It passed across her face, just briefly before she started verbally abusing them. They'd come in force for her, you had to give her the credit. She was new to all this and therefore the weakest link and they'd still sent six people to get her.

I took a sip of my whisky and got up. They hadn't seen me, but others had. They were keen to watch. I wondered if the earlier glances and smiles were because they knew these others were coming for Garrett. Had they been following her or had someone tipped them off? Probably both.

The seal makers knew we were split after the questioning of the woman and so they were making their move while we were weak. I had to wonder if the others were under similar attack and I thought of the office I hadn't gone back to. Was Adelaide alright? Pssh, Adelaide would be wearing their guts for garters long before I got back there.

I should have been more worried about those in the bar around me, but I didn't see anyone who I thought would be backing the seal makers and their plans for a coup. It just wasn't good for anyone other than those who would take power. It would be a time of unrest before everything went back to normal; what was the point?

The seal makers were already standing at Garrett's booth and as I approached I could hear their conversation.

"As I said, I was hoping you'd come find me," she said with a drunken grin.

"Well, your wish is granted," the lead man said.

"You should have walked away," a woman said from next to him.

"How was I supposed to know? I'm a cop," Garrett spat back.

"That is not our problem," another man said.

"Your friend, The Man Who Walks Alone, he told you fabulous stories, you should not have believed them. Most wouldn't," the first man said.

"Curiosity killed the cat," she shrugged and knocked back her drink.

"It certainly seems that way," the woman said, I assume with a smile.

I grabbed a drink from a table I passed.

"Excuse me, drinks coming through," I called barging through them.

I plonked the drinks on the table and turned to face the seal makers.

"Who are your friends?" I asked happily.

"Well, well, well," the man said.

"The Man Who Walks Alone," the woman said and did I detect a hint of awe? I like to think so.

"Fancy meeting you guys here," I said with gusto.

"We're not here for you," the third man said.

"No, bet you have other guys ruining my apartment right now," I said.

"What do we do with them?" Garrett asked standing.

They pulled guns.

"It is us who will be making such decisions," the man said.

I thought about it.

"Wait. You're going to decide what we do with you? I don't think that will work. Conflict of interests and all that."

"No," he said crossly. "We will be deciding what we do with you."

"You've got guns. They've got guns," I told Garrett.

"I can see that."

"Right. And you guys can see Garrett here isn't really drunk. What does that tell you?"

"It matters not, we will dispatch of you both. We are armed and you are not."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious. Garrett, no matter what happens, we leave one alive. OK?"

"OK," she said tentatively.

"Don't get carried away," I warned her.

"Enough of this," the woman demanded.

"Unarmed," I said and spread out my arms to show them.

My hands were just a foot away from my hips, palms open and facing forwards.

"You should stick to what you are good at," the woman sneered.

"I do," I said.

With that I crossed my hands, my pistols appearing on my hips as my hands reached them and I pulled them up and forwards. I took out the two furthest and moved forwards until only the first guy was left. I shot his gun and it clattered to the floor where Garrett scooped it up and returned.

"He told you this was a trap," she exasperated. "He pointed out that I was playing drunk all along. It was a stupid thing to do and you still ignored it. You're stupider than he is."

"Hey," I said with hurt.

"You won't get away with this, not in here," he told us.

"Look around, hotshot, no one here wants your coup."

"Coup?" he smiled. "Oh, but you were wrong, Garrett, he is stupider than I."

Then there was a wet popping sound and the smile was obscured by blood as it fountained out of his mouth before he collapsed to the ground.

"Dammit," I said and put my guns away.

"I thought that only happened in movies," Garrett said looking over my shoulder.

"It wasn't cyanide or anything, not a false tooth. That was a demon silencing him."

"A demon killed him?"

"They would have made a pact. As soon as he said too much he was dead," I scratched my throat with the back of my fingers. "Didn't think they'd have those kinda connections."

We both looked down at the body and then around at the bar. Everyone was looking at us.

"Wasn't me," I proclaimed loudly. "Well the other five, yeah, but not this one." They all stared at me. "So that's something, right? Oh come on, you've seen worse."

It seems like they agreed with me as they turned back to what they were doing. Some burly looking men and women came and took the bodies away.

"Trouble, Harker, always trouble," one of them commented, but not to my face.

We sat back down.

"Same with the car that was following us. Remember how it caught fire?"

"Yeah, you're saying a demon did that?"

"Seems they couldn't be trusted if caught."

"But not the woman," she said.

"Can I check your pockets?"

"Why?"

"Because I think you stole my thunder."

She just looked at me, blank face, blank eyes.

"I will shoot you," she promised.

"The woman was allowed to get caught, the whole thing was a set up.

"We knew that. That's why we played that whole charade for her."

"Right. Except we didn't know that it was a set up, we thought we were setting her up."

She thought about it.

"Yeah. But wait. They didn't set it up. They thought they had us, even we didn't know that Jules was going to turn up."

"No. That whole meeting was a set up. If it turns out we set ourselves up and it was all a dream, then I'm going home," I said.

"So we walked into a set up," she ignored my glibness. Glibbity. New word. "And turned it into a set up of our own, but the fact that she wasn't killed means it was a set up allowing us to capture her."

"Yeah. Or they chose to play along instead of killing her."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Information? A chance to listen to us, gauge us as a team?"

"But they couldn't know we would let her live."

"They could have bet on it, we're nice guys," I admitted.

"Right," she nodded to herself. "You and the Librarian, you're not soldiers in this."

"Scholars," I said.

"Scholar. Singular."

"You're mean," I pouted and took a sip of my drink.

She went to do the same.

"Wait, where did you get this?"

"Idunknow," I shrugged.

She put it back down.

"Let's get out of here."

I looked around the room; I'd kinda forgotten where we were.

"Yeah. Let's do that."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

"So the big question," she said after we found a table with drinks.

Not that the table came with drinks, we bought those first. I guess that's obvious.

"No. Two big questions," I cut in.

She sifted through her mind.

"Well one is who set it all up in the first place."

"Yup, but the other, more important question is where all this is coming from in the first place."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we came in because of the murders, but this started before then. The first murder was about this Box and the Codex, but how did they know about it?"

"And?"

"And I'm working on that."

"So what about the other?"

"Streep. The seal makers were meeting Streep when we caught the woman. They were bait so it was he that wanted us."

"Why?"

"I don't know. We're on the back foot here, Garrett. While others know how all this started and we don't, we can't put the pieces together."

"Like having a jigsaw without the picture to make?"

"Good enough."

"Good enough?"

"I can't think of an analogy for it. You're a detective, Garrett and this is a case like any other. But it's a case we've come in half way through. Like being asked to question a suspect, but not told any details other than it's a murder. You don't know the best questions to ask or what information is important."

I looked at her, hoping she understood my rambling. She nodded.

"You're right. With all this other stuff I've forgotten that this is still basically a murder case. We're still tracking down a group of people responsible for three murders."

"Right. So what do we have?" I asked.

"I hate to say it, but you tell me."

"Troy Colby, he was the man who broke into your house."

"You found him."

"No, the scholar did."

"Don't be childish."

"Then don't be mean."

"Who was he?"

"Not sure; small time crook, nothing more."

"Streep," she said.

"Yup. And the Venators."

"The Venators?"

"So far everything we have about the Codex and the Box, about them being found, comes from them."

She knitted her brow, but dropped a stitch.

"You don't like them, do you?"

"I don't like their methods. And I no longer trust them."

"You think they're in on this?"

"No," I half laughed. "They're still the good guys."

"So what now?"

"Now we meet the others back at the office."

†

I'd called ahead and they were all there by the time we got there. Not in the reception, oh no, but in my office. Jules was even in my new chair.

"Seriously who sits behind someone else's desk? Seriously?"

"Make yourself comfortable," Jules said magnanimously.

I walked back out to where Adelaide was behind her desk.

"They came?" I asked and she nodded. "And?"

"And nothing," she didn't raise her face from her computer screen.

"They cause you trouble?"

"Pssh. It was amateur hour," she disdained.

"And...?"

"And don't worry, no one will find the bodies."

Many different comments flashed across my mind, but I decided to keep them all to myself.

"Just glad you're OK," I said.

"Uh huh."

I walked back into my office. Garrett had taken a seat on the sofa along with the Librarian. They were chatting away while Jules watched with disdain and perhaps a hint of jealousy.

"So. How'd we go?" I asked.

"Not much to report," Jules said. "They were better than the ones we fought at the bar, but they weren't good enough."

The way she told it was that she had gone to Venator HQ, a safe place, let them wait outside for her. She'd then headed for the Library knowing they would strike. They had and she had dispatched them before reaching the Library to help the Librarian deal with his intruders. Not that he needed much help, the Library was set with dastardly booby-traps. She just mopped up, according to her. She was wonderful according to the Librarian and I swear she blushed for a millisecond (the standard time for Venators to show emotion). If you can't quash an emotion within that time they chuck you out, so I'm told. Though my source on that might be myself. I made it up is what I'm saying.

"But we're no closer for it," Garrett said.

"We've rid ourselves of another layer of people trying to kill you," Jules said.

"I really should be sitting there," I said.

"But it doesn't matter. That's not the point. The point is finding them and bringing them to justice," Garrett pushed.

Jules laughed.

Garrett looked at me. I considered sitting on the sofa, but wouldn't that tell Jules she could sit in my chair? Maybe if I just perched on the edge.

"Forget you stupid chair, Harker," Garrett blasted me.

"Alright, alright," I held up my hands. "She's right. We're no closer to stopping a bunch of murderers, but you're also no closer to stopping a coup."

"We're decimating their numbers," Jules shrugged.

"One tenth won't stop them," the Librarian said.

"The scholar," I said to Garrett.

"We're stopping a coup by wiping them out," Jules pointed out.

"Rubbish," I countered. "You know they're already in league with demons, maybe even Fallen."

"We're pushing them into the light," Jules said leaning back in my chair.

"But we don't care about your coup," Garrett exasperated.

"Streep," I said as this was going to get us nowhere. "It was a trap that night. Streep was using the seal makers as bait to lure me in."

"So?" Jules asked.

"So he must know something. Or want something," the Librarian said.

"Right," I said. "And then there's Troy."

"Troy?" Jules asked.

"He broke into Garrett's place, tried to kill her," I explained.

She looked over at Garrett and her face seemed to show sincere sorrow.

"I'm sorry, it's horrible, isn't it? Them coming into your home."

"It's happened to you?" Garrett asked.

"More times than I would like. One time is more than I would like."

"We can agree on one thing then," Garrett said.

"We're friends again. Good," I smiled. "Maybe we should swap seats?"

Jules' face told me she wasn't moving from my chair. I sighed.

"Librarian?" I asked.

"Not much on him. Not much, but maybe a crack, maybe a slip up."

"What? Jules asked.

"They need to communicate; it's mostly through the dark web and on protected sites. Passwords and invitations. Lots of checks and firewalls. But someone, not this Troy guy, someone linked to him though. He or she, I assume he, talked off site."

"Off site?" I asked.

"Not on a protected site. I found it because I could track, well, if you're anything like Harker, then you don't care about the hows and wherefores."

"Nope," I said.

"He doesn't talk for all of us," Garrett said glaring at me.

"Do you want to know?"

She grimaced.

"Not really."

"Ha, we're like two peas in a pod," I grinned.

"Why didn't we let these guys kill Harker?" she groaned.

"What he said was," the Librarian forced the conversation back, "about this cool new group he had become a part of. He was trying to convince a friend to join."

"Like spending the heist money instead of sitting on it," I said.

"Yes. He was doing something he thought was cool and wanted to boast about it," the Librarian agreed.

"How does this help us though?" Jules asked.

"I have his address," the Librarian said.

"How're we going to do this?" I asked.

"No," Jules said. "This is Venator business."

"Like hell it is," Garrett argued hotly.

"This is what we do."

"She's right, Jules, you came to us, not us to you. This is ours."

"It's not a competition," she argued.

"Then back off," Garrett warned.

Man, she was not going to let someone else solve her case.

"It's information you can both use," the Librarian said.

"He's also right. We find out what this guy knows and you can use it to stop your coup thing and we can stop these murders," I said.

"Fine. Whatever," Jules pouted.

She hated not being in charge.

We talked around it for a while and Jules decided she was going to scope the place out and left.

"She's not going to..." Garrett started.

"No,' I said. "She's agreed to do this with us and she will. She can't risk having us off side."

"What exactly is the deal with you and the Venators?"

"That's far too long a story for me to stick around for," the Librarian said and stood.

"Wait. I have something more."

He sat back down.

"I was attacked by demons in the park."

"I know."

"You what?" Garrett almost exploded.

"Calm down, it's pretty normal."

"Pretty normal?"

"Think about everything we've done in those bars, Garrett. You think they just let that stuff slide? Every now and then they try to take meddlers like me out of the picture."

"So what's the point?" the Librarian asked. "And why didn't you bring it up with Jules here?"

"You. You said people were talking about me, so did Jules. Why? What were they saying?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Stuff about not letting you interfere in things, ways of torturing and killing you, general discussion about how you'd messed things up for them."

"Nice," Garrett commented.

"Meh," I shrugged.

"Why?" the Librarian asked.

"You both mentioned it. Jules said it was 'bad people'. It doesn't seem ordinary, especially now we know all of this was happening."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I think people knew I was going to get involved, or were trying to stop me before I did. Maybe that demon attack was pre-emptive. Why? I'm not that exciting."

"You want me to go back over it?" he asked.

"Gee, honey, would you do that for me?" I smiled at him sweetly.

"I may concentrate on the aforementioned torture techniques," he told Garrett.

"What about the second part of his question?" she asked.

"I don't trust the Venators at the best of times, they work for themselves and for their own interests, I watch what I say in front of them," I thought about it. "Perhaps we shouldn't have let her go to the address."

"If she is going to screw us over she will," the Librarian stated.

"True. Anyway, I trust them less with this. Everything we know outside of our original case comes from them. Everything about the Box and the Codex."

"Except for in the seal," the Librarian said.

"Yeah, but I also wonder if these seal makers didn't hear about the boyfriend from the Venators or someone who knew they had him."

"Had him?" Garrett asked.

"I think they were protecting him, hence his no show for his girlfriend, but I think he left them."

"Hence their coming to the Great Detective," the Librarian flourished his hands at me.

"In the hope that you, we, would find him," she nodded.

"It's kinda our jobs. Librarian, look at all the traffic you can for the time when this started and just before. All our answers lie in how everybody, anybody, got any information about the Box. Where did this boyfriend come from? How did he get it?"

"There are many ways," the Librarian said.

"Yeah? Apparently both you and Farouq missed them."

He looked hurt.

"What I meant was I don't buy that he could have and you couldn't. You don't miss a trick."

"No. You're right, I missed this one. Didn't hear anything about it until you brought it up," he continued to frown to himself. "I should go and look at those conversations."

He got up and walked to the door.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't make me come over there and give you a big hug. You do a sterling job, Librarian, everyone says so. You didn't miss this because you're bad at your job."

"Then how did I?" he challenged.

"That's the question, isn't it? How come it didn't come up on our radar? We need to know how all this started."

"The Venators," Garrett said. "You said all the info came from them, you're thinking of investigating them, aren't you?"

"It's been playing through my mind, yeah."

"The Man Who Walks Alone," the Librarian shook his head and left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Four days.

Four days of soul crushing surveillance. The Librarian wouldn't do it, he said he was merely a source of information, not one of our merry little gang. Both Garrett and Jules could do some, but Garrett still had to work and Jules begged off for 'important things' she had to do.

We should have done longer, we couldn't risk bracing this guy only to find a couple of Avatars hanging out at his place, but we also couldn't wait. The seal makers had gone up against us and each time failed. They would send better people, or at least more, to tackle us and they wouldn't wait long. They'd underestimated us and that told me something important; they weren't in the loop. People hadn't warned them about people like Jules, maybe even people like me. Others of their ilk in the bars weren't helping them.

Which, of course meant that they didn't have the support to raise all those demons to attack me in the park. So who did that? Maybe it was just a run of the mill attack. But if it wasn't then it raised a lot more questions. Serious questions.

Not the type of question you consider sitting in a car for six straight hours watching a house. The type of question you have is can I fit another wee into my empty soda bottle without it spilling over?

Our man, Thomas Greene, or Boner, as he went by on the internet, didn't do a lot. The Librarian was looking into all of the places he did go and was working out if they were of interest. He spent a lot of times at bars, both normal and satanic and a lot of time sleeping off hangovers. He went to another house twice and the Librarian was looking into that as our best possible lead on more of the seal makers.

We met up in a quiet pub on day five, satisfied that we knew 'Boner's' comings and goings and all of us had to shake tails before getting there. They were ramping up again, looking for a chance to strike at us. The Librarian wasn't with us and I rang him to make sure he was alright considering the tails, but he was fine.

"And they don't know we're watching him?" Garrett clarified.

"First time I've seen a tail," I said.

"Same here," Jules agreed.

"Yeah. Same, but..."

"If they'd been tailing us and seen then they wouldn't have risked tailing us today, they would be setting a trap," I said.

"Yeah, makes sense," she agreed.

"We be careful though," Jules added.

I had picked up the tail straight away, from my office to here. I was sure I would have picked one up on any other day. It would only have taken one tail to know that we were staking out 'Boner's' place and then they would have stopped. They'd laid low and re-evaluated their enemy, set new plans that had come into action today.

"They'll tail us to Greene's place," Garrett said.

It was a good point. All that surveillance and bottled wee could be wasted. Well, not the wee, I hear it's really good for tomato plants. Rich in potassium.

"We deal with them," I said firmly.

"You've changed," she looked at me.

"I've been allowed to use more force," I half explained.

Jules looked at me.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said quietly.

Garrett smiled between the two of us.

"What?" we both asked at the same time.

"You look impressed and annoyed at the same time. Like you simply can't believe this guy."

"Can you?" Jules simply asked.

"I don't think I know the half of him. Why does it annoy you that he's been allowed to use force?"

"Because I never have been. Because he's a two-bit detective who hangs out with angels, alright?" Jules angered.

"Whoa, I'm sorry," Garrett said.

"No. It's alright. He's just annoying."

"I haven't left yet, you guys realise that, right?" I asked.

"How are we playing this?" Garrett asked.

"You're the copper, how would you?" Jules asked.

"I'd have one more person, two in the front, two in the back."

"But we know he's not having visitors," I said.

"I've watched similar places only to break in and find five or six people who just never left the house."

"This isn't a druggy," I said.

"We don't know who or what is in that house. We have seen people come and go," she insisted.

"Alright, I know someone who can help," I said.

"Oh no, please don't."

"He's fine."

"He's not."

"He gets the job done."

"Like using a tornado to move house," Jules countered.

"Still moves your stuff," I tried.

She sighed.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Bruce," Jules said with disdain.

"We can't get anyone else on short notice and you know it," I told her.

"OK, OK," she held up hands in surrender. Hers thankfully. "I get Garrett though."

"Fine."

"I don't understand. Who is this?"

"Biker muscle, did some very bad things before he found Jesus. Or Jesus found him, came to him in a dream-stroke-vision."

"And then Bruce found Harker," Jules continued. "Told him that he had no gift but his fists to serve the Lord with; to repent."

"I tried to turn him away, but he quoted a verse at me, told me Jesus had told him to say it. It was my morning Bible verse, in fact there had been a printing error and it was my morning Bible reading every day for that month."

"He's very gung-ho about repenting," Jules couldn't help but smile.

"He came in use, a few weeks later we had, well, something big and his need to repent came in handy," I finished.

"Sounds like someone we could use," Garrett agreed.

"Something like this and He puts it in the hands of a bunch of misfits," Jules exasperated.

"You're part of this too," I pointed out.

"Right," she answered. "No one's tailing him so get him to meet us there. I need to get some stuff so I'll deal with my tail and meet you there too. Think you can deal with yours?"

"We'll see you there," I pouted.

"Tail free?"

"Or between my legs."

"Good."

She got up and left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The day had turned grey, the clouds low and dark. The air was as full of water as it could be without actually raining. A chill wind ran through the streets chasing the last people home from work. I spotted the tail parked across the street from my office as I parked up. I considered wandering over to them and saying hi, but then they would have changed cars and generally tried to make it harder for me to spot them tomorrow.

I walked up to my office to find Adelaide still working at her desk. I say working, she was on her computer, I couldn't believe it had anything to do with my business. Maybe she ran an Internet company or something. We didn't greet each other as I walked through, she didn't even look up. Sometimes I suspected she sent a robot double into work.

I went to my desk and phoned Bruce while I looked through the blinds at the car across the road.

"Harker," he said with glee.

"How's it going, big fella?"

"Oh, you know."

I knew what he meant. The guilt of his crimes still weighed so heavily on his soul, so heavily that he couldn't let them go. He knew that God asked to take them from him, but he couldn't let them go. He was one of those self-flagellating monks from the Mediaeval period. Big word, huh? Means whipping.

I watched two other people walk to the tail car and one talk through the window. I looked down the road to see another car pulling to the curb.

"Oh, no."

"Are you in trouble," he asked alarmed.

"That wasn't why I was calling, but apparently so."

"You at the office? I'll be right there."

"I don't think you'll make it in time," but he'd already hung up.

More cars, more people, had pulled up and were running out of sight, around the back.

"Adelaide?" I called, then hit the intercom. "Adelaide? We've got trouble."

She appeared at the door with a sword in her hand.

"How heavy?"

"Heavy," I said. "Front and rear."

She nodded and disappeared. I ran out to find her.

"Stay here," she told me slotting a gun into a holster.

"No."

"Yes. They're looking for you."

"Not happening."

"I don't want you getting in my way," she warned.

"Are you going full ninja?" I asked.

"If you say so. Stop wasting my time. Go upstairs."

She slipped out of the door and was gone.

We were on the first floor, and shared the floor with a couple of small businesses. The floor above held more businesses, a solicitor; a call centre, something else. The ground floor was a pool hall. I assumed Adelaide had gone down and so I snuck across the corridor and up the stairs. I broke into a business far from the stairs. Yeah, I had keys to all the offices, but don't tell.

Adelaide was right, they would come straight to the office to find me. Not finding me would spread them out through the building. I heard footsteps on the stairs and then a pop from downstairs and shouting. More pops and then silence. There were careful footsteps coming up the stairs. They didn't know where she was. I could only guess that at least one person was in my office and I couldn't have that. I pulled my guns. I let the masked person reach the corridor and ease along it. They were well equipped and armed, but obviously freaked, not expecting such resistance. Another followed them up and I took aim before exploding out of the door, shooting the first and then the second without stopping to the stairs and taking another down there. I jumped the body on my way down and was back on the floor of our office. I slowed down. There was a scream from somewhere in the building and I knew Adelaide's sword had found a victim.

I moved slowly along the corridor and shot another masked intruder as they came out of a door. I noticed my door was open, but so was the closest to me on my right. An office where they fixed computers. It was linked to a shop down the street. Nice guys, spending their days in a tangle of wires and motherboards. I eased into it. As this wasn't a shop there was no reception, just straight into a room of computers and bits of computers. There was a door at the back wall, a little break room, I knew. I walked towards it and stepped through, gun first. It was empty. Or at least the bit in front of me was. Someone clubbed me hard from behind, thankfully between the shoulder blades and not the head. As I fell forwards I twisted and landed on my back. I shot the guy as he was taking aim.

The wind was knocked out of me and I lay there looking up at the precarious towers of computer innards between comfy armchairs and a kitchenette. I looked at the distance between the door and my foot and considered just kicking it closed and staying there for the duration of the firefight. But even now someone was in my office, reading my graphic novels or sitting in my new chair. I did one of those fancy flips back onto my feet and knew I would regret it later. I went back through the shop and peeked out into the corridor. It was empty, but now my door was closed.

Dammit, they were taking turns sitting in my chair, maybe adjusting the height and leaning back on it. This wasn't fair, it wasn't cricket; you can't just do that to a man's chair. I ran to the door, took a second to admire the font my name was in. I chose it myself. And then Adelaide overruled me, but it was still nice, still my name.

I burst into the reception and nailed the baddie sitting at Adelaide's desk trying to hack the computer. He slumped forward and started bleeding all over her desk. I grabbed tissues to mop it up before I realised I had more important things to do.

Or did I?

She'd kill me for it, longer and more painfully than any of these schmucks could think of. I decided to dab at the pooling blood a little, show I'd made the effort before walking into my office.

Dammit, she was in my chair.

"Jacob Harker," she said.

"Really? We have the same name," I replied.

"Your famous wit," she smiled with her mouth, but not her eyes. I don't think she ever smiled with her eyes.

"You're in my chair," I said.

"The least of your worries," she said.

"No," I said angrily. "No, it isn't. It's very important actually."

"And everyone said you were a worthy foe," she tutted.

"Everyone? You haven't met everyone yet, doll."

"Oh no?"

"No. If you had, well, it wouldn't be you sitting in my chair."

"Perhaps I'm here to gloat. Even now your secretary is dead and you're surrounded."

"She is, is she? Shame. Hard to get good secretaries," I thought about it. "Not that she was particularly good; I could do better, you're right."

"Now we're going to talk."

"Talk? You could have just made an appointment. I don't get to talk to many people."

"Yes, the Man Who Walks Alone."

"I don't think you understand the reference."

"You're going to tell me where the Codex is."

"Am I?" I laughed. "You're pathetic. You're no one."

"Really? I'm the one who has you cornered. Dead."

I didn't have to look behind me, I could feel at least two people behind me, I could smell the oil on their guns.

"Now you will tell me where the Codex is."

"The Codex? But you don't have the Box yet."

Oh, God. Do you set up these awful situations just to teach us, or do you just choose to use them to teach us? He envisioned a perfect World, but damn, does He use the fallen moments in our lives to teach us. In the fires He purifies us.

"Well maybe you can tell me where that is also."

"Can I talk to your boss?"

"I don't have a boss," she exploded. "You will tell me and then I will let you die quickly."

Small fry.

"You're in over your head. Everything you've said since I walked in tells me that. You're nothing."

She looked over my shoulder and I heard guns being raised.

"Oh no, you're going to kill me and then I'll go to Paradise to be with my Lord. Oh, have mercy on me," I dead panned.

"Tell me," she shouted.

"What's in the Box?" I asked.

"What?"

She didn't know.

"You don't know."

"I've been polite. Now it's time for torture," she smiled a wicked smile.

I felt hands on my shoulders.

But the floor had already creaked. It was one floorboard that we never got fixed because it only creaked under a certain weight.

"This is the last time I ask nicely. Who's your boss?"

"I am..." she started.

"Don't bring me down."

And then her face fell, went white. I felt the hands on me slacken as I heard the bodies fall to the ground.

"Bruce."

"Harker. She's in your chair."

"I know, right? New chair too."

"New chair?" he asked.

"Yeah, I had much worse than her sitting in the old one. Had to pray over it before I burned it."

"Tsk."

"Now I told you last time was the nice time."

"Building's clear," Adelaide said from behind us.

"Adelaide," Bruce said brightly.

"Bruce," she replied just a brightly.

I know. Brightly. Adelaide. Who knew she had that in her.

"How have you been?" he asked her.

"Oh, you know."

"Yeah. How did...?

"Not in front of him," she said sternly.

"But it went well?"

"It did," she said happily.

"Good," I could feel him nod.

I walked back so I could get Bruce in my sight as well. Adelaide was behind me at the door.

"You're OK," I said.

"Better than my desk."

"I tried to wipe it up."

"I saw that, the old Harker 'try'."

"I'll sort it," Bruce said.

Oh, come on. Really?

"More important things here," I said.

Adelaide strode past me and said a number of prayers that would protect the woman from demons that might silence her. She stepped back.

"So what's she telling?" Adelaide asked.

"Not a lot. Who's your boss?"

She smiled at me with venom in her eyes. She pulled a hand up from under the desk and had something in it. Suddenly she was on fire and by the time I had shielded my eyes she was already a pile of ash on my new chair.

"My chair," I moaned.

We all walked over and looked at the pile of ash.

"Incendiary," I said.

"I'll go and check the others," Adelaide said and left.

"It's been a while," Bruce said a little sadly.

"I know," I replied guiltily. "Stuff."

I looked at Bruce, he was a big man who'd let his muscle go and was trying to reclaim it. He was as tall as me, but twice as wide with a big beer gut. His hair was a buzz cut that stood up on top and his face had that lumpen look of someone who had been in one too many fights. Which, for me, was one.

"This is interesting," I said.

"Seems fairly standard," he said as we walked back into the centre of the room.

"The last one of these I had like this got popped by a demon, she did this herself. She was willing to do it too, as to prove herself, prove her mettle."

"She was higher up than you thought?"

"No," I shook my head.

"All the same," Adelaide said from the door.

"I'll get a dustpan and brush," I said.

"Why did you ring me?" Bruce asked.

"What? Oh, yeah," I looked at my watch. "B&E, brace a suspect. If he doesn't spontaneously combust on us."

"Breaking and entering, I understand. The last bit? Not so much."

"The first bit's the important bit and we need to get going."

"I'll get the dustpan and brush then," Adelaide said.

"Thanks," I smiled gratefully.

"And put it on your desk."

"Oh."

I walked over and looked at the scorch marks and melted fabric on my chair.

"Maybe order a new chair too."

We walked through the reception to the door.

"And, hey, Adelaide?"

"What?"

"Thanks."

"I needed the practice," she shrugged.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

We picked up Garrett on the way.

"Tail?"

"Sorted. This is Bruce."

"Hi there," he said happily.

"Nice to meet you."

"So, you're a cop."

"That a problem?"

"Once upon a time. You a Believer?"

"In what?"

"She's one of the Heathen," I grinned.

"You should find Jesus," Bruce told her.

"Why? Is he lost?" she asked.

"Ouch," I said.

"Yeah, yeah, I used to be like you. Lost and I didn't know it."

"Don't mope, Bruce, it spoils your pretty face."

"Everyone should have what we have, Harker."

"They should," I agreed.

"You know what got me?" he asked her.

"No."

"Isaiah 55 verses 8 and 9, "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.""

"OK."

He wasn't going to let go though, not while she was trapped in a car with him.

"I knew what I was doing wrong, I had already been thinking about it and then this verse. How God's ways weren't mine. I realised that His ways must be better."

"Can't argue with your logic," she replied.

"I bet you would be interested to hear Harker's verse though."

She did sit up at that. I was touched at her interest.

"Yeah. OK, you got me."

"Lots of weather we've been having," I said loudly, but to no effect.

"From Isaiah again..."

"Enough," I said forcefully. "That's mine."

He looked at me as I drove and frowned.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright, big guy. Just private."

"Then let me tell her the other. Ezekiel."

"I'd rather you didn't."

"But you had it again, didn't you? Before you rang me."

"Yeah," I admitted.

"She should understand."

"Tell me already," Garrett said impatiently. "I never liked Bible study."

"So you did go to church!"

She groaned.

"Then you have understanding of these things."

"The verse?"

"We're here," I said seriously and pulled up to the curb.

We got out and met with Jules.

"No tail?"

"Hello to you too."

"Hey, Jules."

"Bruce. Tail?"

I shook my head.

"You sure?"

"No tail," Bruce said.

"Fine."

"And you?" I asked.

She gave me a sour look.

"How does it look?" Garrett asked.

"Quiet, but hard to know how many are in there. A car pulled up just after I got there so at least four plus our guy."

"Great," I said.

The streetlights were on now and the darkness would not only cover our movements, but if we did it right the lights in the house would leave little room to hide.

"Sounds like a party," Jules said.

"Premature celebrations," I said

"What does that mean?" she scoured my face.

"Later. Let's do this before anyone else shows up."

We walked down the street to the house and we could see the lights blazing and hear the music as we closed in.

It was decided that Bruce and I would go in the front, more likely to flush people to the back where they would be met by Jules and Garrett. It was to be a hard takedown, but we wanted anyone who could talk to be able to talk. I made that clear. We weren't Venators, I didn't say that, but I think Jules got the point by the daggers in her eyes. She didn't like to be told how to do things she knew how to do, but this was our game, Garrett's and mine, and we were doing things our way.

Bruce and I stood either side of the front door.

"You really want to keep doing this?" I asked him.

"No, But Jesus led me to you. For this. I know you hate it, hate that it's your calling, but it's a good thing you do."

"That doesn't mean you have to."

"What else am I good for?" he asked me.

"More than this, Bruce, you're better than this."

"When you lay down your sword, when I know there are no more fights to fight, then I will."

"You know that's not going to happen," I frowned a little.

"Then so be it. We fight the good fight, Harker."

"Yeah. Literally," I said and kicked down the door.

Nah, just kidding, as if I could. I left that to Bruce.

The door collapsed inwards like a 1920s housewife in front of a mouse and we barged in. I had a gun out, Bruce never used them. Never had, had never needed to; his fists were enough.

The front door led into a short hall with a room to the right and stairs running up the left. There were two guys in the front room hitting a bong, the air was thick with weed smoke. I looked at Bruce, who looked at me before holding his breath and striding in. He knocked them unconscious, well, tapped, they were already halfway there.

Now we had a choice, there was music coming from further in, but there was also the upstairs. The hallway ended in the kitchen and I watched as the back door swung open and Jules entered followed by Garrett, professionally sweeping the room. Garrett saw me and I pointed up. She nodded.

"Up we go," I told Bruce.

I went first, taking the corner at the top quickly to find another empty hallway. Three bedrooms and a bathroom. First bedroom was empty; in the bathroom was a girl, passed out next to the vomit filled toilet. They must have started this party early. We moved to the next room, door closed. Bruce pushed past me and checked the last room. He shook his head and then I slipped the door open. There were three people in a tangle on the bed.

"Hi," I said over the grunting. "Excuse me? Hello?"

The woman saw me and yelped, one of the men looked up, saw the gun and fell off the bed. The other guy didn't seem to notice.

"Do you think you could stop that?" I asked.

The woman nudged the man hard.

"What?"

She nodded to me.

"Hi," I smiled. "Downstairs."

We lead them down and to the back room. It was the largest and the most full. Garrett and Jules had the five men and three women covered with their guns as I pushed the other three in.

"Sit," I ordered.

Bruce walked in and looked big, mean and angry, which wasn't a stretch for him. The only times I ever saw Bruce looking truly at peace was when he was reading the Bible.

"Well this is disappointing," I said.

"Screw you," someone said.

"What are we celebrating?" Jules asked.

There was stony silence from the gathered. One girl began to cry.

"OK, well how about someone here owns up to being 'Boner'."

No one admitted it, but there were a couple of sideways glances.

"The man with the skinhead, you are the chosen one," I smiled. "Stand up," with force.

He did so, reluctantly. I pointed my gun at him and looked him in the eye before scanning the others. He had a defeated look, a disappointment. He'd rolled the dice thinking he couldn't lose, that he was onto a good thing. No doubt he'd been promised that. Told that the risk was minimal, the odds were in his favour and the rewards would be beyond what he could imagine. He was young and dumb and was still staring at the double ones as they took his money away.

The others, however, just looked scared and bewildered. They had drugs in the place, but we didn't look like coppers. Except Garret. My guns were way too fancy and Jules face was in shadow from her hooded tracksuit.

"It's just you, isn't it?" I asked Thomas Greene.

He nodded slightly.

"This was meant to be your night, wasn't it?"

Again with the nod. I actually felt sorry for him.

"You're supposed to be dead," he said sorrowfully.

"And yet here I am. The rest of you can leave."

There were complaints until guns were raised and, more threateningly, Bruce cracked his knuckles. They poured around us and Garrett was nice enough to go upstairs with the three so they could get their clothes. She returned without an issue.

"Oh, Boner," I said putting my gun away.

Bruce now covered the door, filled it to be exact.

"Sit down," Garrett said.

"Wait," Jules said and then recited prayers out loud to stop demons killing him.

"Better frisk him too," I said.

She looked at my expression and then did it anyway before pushing him down onto the sofa.

"Do you know, Thomas? Do you know what's in the Box?" I asked.

"No."

"No," I agreed. "You have no idea about it, do you?"

"I know enough," he sulked.

He did. He knew enough to throw a party to celebrate being let into the big time, to being a sycophant, but he couldn't have been involved with the attack on my office. This here wasn't the mastermind type. He was more likely to be one of the ones with the guns, an expendable foot soldier. So what else?

"You know much about the Venators?" I asked him.

"Scum," he spat.

I yawned serendipitously.

"You know much about demons?" Jules asked.

"More than you," he smiled nastily.

"I don't think so."

"The Venators are finished, we have nothing to worry about from you," he sneered.

An amazing range of emotions.

"Ahh, I see," I said.

"No, you don't. You don't see anything, you are blind to the truth."

"It is you, young one, who is blinded to the light," Bruce said.

"I've seen the true light," he said and smiled to himself. At some memory.

"You don't fear the Venators?" Jules asked.

He barked a laugh.

"No."

"Do you fear him?" she waved her gun in my direction.

"Of course not."

She sighed.

"Then he really is nothing. A no one. He doesn't know anything we need to know."

"I know more than you think," he boasted.

"Perhaps, but you don't understand it. You're spurred on by the promise of fleshly desires. Nothing more," she said.

"Agreed," I said. "Deal with him as you do," I told her.

I walked to the door and Bruce walked out, Garrett following. There was a gunshot as we reached the front door and then we were out into the cold night air.

Garrett looked back at the house, obviously uncomfortable at the turn of events. She looked at me and my eyes were hard.

"They're going after the Venators," she said.

"Yeah. For the boyfriend."

"No. To take them out, they must have a solid lead to take out their opposition," she said.

"We need to get to that other house," Jules said joining us.

"Yeah."

I got on the phone to the Librarian.

We got the address and went to our cars. Once again we parked down the street.

"Same as last time?" Bruce asked.

"Worked well enough," Garrett said.

"OK, we'll give you a chance to get around the back and then hit the front."

"It's not the same as last time," Jules warned. "We have no idea what or who is in there."

"Something that our late friend was involved in that made him think he was getting into the inner circle," I said.

"Let's find out," Garrett said.

They left and went around the back of the house as Bruce and I slid up to the front door. Well, I sneaked, Bruce just walked. In Bruce's past life if he got to your door it was already all over. I held up a hand to stop the bulldozer and picked the lock. I ran in gun up. There was no one in the front room as I flicked the lights on and then off again and then Bruce and I went up the stairs. All the rooms were dark and empty. We risked hitting the lights long enough to be sure before going back downstairs.

When we got there there was a light on in a bare room that Garrett and Jules were standing in. It was bare of furniture but a single table in the centre. The walls were less than bare.

"All clear upstairs," I said.

"Clear down here," Garrett responded.

"What's all this then?" Bruce asked.

"Good question," Jules replied. "That looks like a plan of you building, Harker."

"Right. About that."

I told them what had happened.

"Well couldn't that be it? Be why he was throwing a party?" Garrett accused.

"No. Why throw a party until after the deed was done? And anyone could have come and knocked me off, it wasn't a big deal."

"Anyone would want his head before they gave anything in reward," Jules said. "And it wouldn't be enough, Harker is just an annoyance."

"Something everyone can agree on," Garrett smiled smarmily at me.

"Hey," Bruce chided.

"Thank you, Bruce. But Jules is right, killing me doesn't bring them any closer to the Box or the coup."

"So what else do we have here?" Garrett asked.

We looked at the walls, covered in papers.

"Who are these people?" Bruce asked.

I filled him in as best as I could in the quickest time possible.

"Doesn't seem like a group that could have pulled off that attack on your office," he said.

"You're right. Either they're more than we thought..."

"I don't think so," Garrett said.

"...Or they've already got support," I thought on it. Dammit, I was always on the back foot, always trying to catch up. "We know that by the time we found the seal they already had help from a demon."

I thought about it, thought hard, but it wasn't something my mind liked to do. The same way my legs thought about running. They could, but they'd rather not. I looked at the walls.

"Oh," I said.

"What?" Garrett demanded.

"Get photos of all of this and email them to me," I told her.

"What is it?" Jules demanded.

"Yeah," Garrett agreed.

"Just do it. We need to get out of here."

She glared at me and then got on it.

I walked close to Jules.

"Office," I whispered and then went and began photographing the walls.

We were out five minutes later and I promised them all I would call a meeting tomorrow or the next day. I needed to process the information. Jules seemed edgy and covered her head in her hood as soon as she could without looking suspicious.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I walked into my office and turned on the light. Jules was already there, sitting in my chair.

"Out," I commanded.

"You don't get to call meetings with me."

"Out," I angered.

She got up and walked around the desk to the other chair.

"Better?"

"Good," I said, walked over and sat down.

I could feel where the fabric had melted and shifted to get comfortable.

"We're being played," I said.

"If you say so."

"No, I'll say it again with added emphasis; we're being played."

She narrowed her eyes at me.

"You're an idiot," I sighed and leant back in my chair.

"Oh, am I?"

"You and your Venators."

"I'm glad I came here to find that out."

"It's a freebee," I shrugged.

"Don't think you understand this, Harker."

"Don't think I don't."

"What?"

"Who watches the watchmen?" I asked.

"Don't get philosophical, it doesn't suit you."

"Plenty of people."

"What's your point?"

"Misdirection."

She narrowed her eyes at me again. This time it was brief, but I knew her too well and caught it. It was interesting.

"Go on."

"What's in the Box?"

"What?" the change in direction caught her off guard.

"What's in the Box? It's the big question."

"It's not the important question. If anything it's just a means to an end."

"You keep saying that, keep painting the Box as unimportant."

"It is."

"It isn't. It's the key to this coup of yours, without an idea of where it was or what it did, no one would be planning a coup."

"There are plenty of other ways to start a coup," she said.

"There are, but are you trying to tell me they were planning one and then the Box coincidentally appeared?"

"Would it satisfy you?"

It was my turn to give her a look.

"So far all the information about the Box and the boyfriend have come from you and yours," I said.

"And the seal. And these idiot seal makers going round talking to sickos about it."

"Got me there," I admitted.

"So still, what's your point?"

"No one seems to know what's in the Box, but everyone's looking for it. Why? Have you seen the Box? Or the Codex?"

She shook her head.

"What if we're being kept busy? Like you said, there's plenty of ways to start a coup. What if we're chasing a ghost?"

She thought about it.

"Then what? And who?"

"Streep," I said. "I want to know why he tried to lure me in."

"You didn't bring me here alone to tell me this."

"You saw what was on those walls."

"It's no secret where our HQ is in this city. Yeah, they had some surprising plans, but it would be suicidal to try and break in."

"Agreed. Keep you guys busy though."

"Not for long."

"Maybe 'not long' is all that's needed."

"OK, Harker."

"But those plans weren't enough to let our Boner into the secret society, not make him a real sicko. So what was it?"

"I'm guessing that was rhetorical. It's getting late, Harker."

"Fine," I shrugged. "Get to bed."

"Tell me."

"I already did."

"They're getting let in, getting to hang out in bars with demons because they are misdirecting us," she said less than convincingly.

"No. I don't think they know it. But here's the real question. How'd they find out about the Box in the first place? How did you?"

"You're not a Venator, you turned down the privilege to our information," she stood up.

"Keeping me in the dark isn't really helping your situation," I said and then decided to stand as well.

Then I decided to walk from behind my desk.

"Come on, Jules. How'd you hear about the Box? How'd the boyfriend get that kind of information?"

"There's a cycle. Ask your Librarian about it. I need to go and warn my superiors of an impending attack."

She walked out the door without a glance back nor a goodbye.

I sat on the corner of my desk and sighed.

†

At home I got out a bottle. Rum this time and sat in my chair. It's OK though, I had already justified it to myself. My mind was blurring with thoughts and pieces of a jigsaw, I would never sleep without a drink or two and I needed to sleep, needed to work tomorrow. That was justification, wasn't it? No. I knew that, but I also knew it was true. The problem with passing out is you forget how to go to sleep.

So I sat in my chair and thought. Thought and drank.

Who watches the watchmen? Plenty of people. If you knew where to look. The Venators were big and they were a thorn in the side of those who wanted to use demons to gain money and power. And a thorn in the side of demons who wanted the same. Or pleasure. Demons often sought pleasure as they knew that their time was limited; they knew God would ultimately win so they tried to enjoy it while they could. When they weren't, they were trying to fight the War, trying to turn it so that it wasn't God that won.

People wanted money and power and they thought that through demons and the Fallen they could get them both. Not only that, but they were told that if the War was won they could take it with them. That made them greedy, greedy for the most they could get, the most they could take into eternity with them. The Venators stopped that.

What I'm getting at is that there were a lot of people who wanted to see the Venators fall, wanted to find a chink in their armour that could be used to destroy them. But it was more than that. You could follow what was going on by following the Venators. You knew who was trying to influence an election by whom the Venators were targeting. It was good knowledge for business, good to know where holes might open up. It paid to watch those that were watching those that might try to rise too high.

So who watches the watchmen? Plenty of people. And I needed to ask them some questions.

But first, the Aimee Peter's case.

†

I got up in the morning and pulled the files. I wasn't being a very good detective, things were rolling too fast and I wasn't going through everything thoroughly. I was also, if we're being honest here, looking at things through the events that were happening. I was focussing on what I needed to know to understand the events as they unfurled, but I needed to go back to the start.

The whole reason the Peter's case had caught my eye was because of mentions to the Codex and the Box, but how had the investigating officer known about them? It seemed to come back to the boyfriend. Seemed he had been involved in some dodgy dealings and Aimee herself had told a friend about said Codex and Box; that they could be onto something big if they got their hands on them. What it didn't tell me was how they had heard of it in the first place. I needed to talk to this friend. And the detective looking into it. For that I would need something that would aid his investigation.

Again it bugged me that all the information I had heard seemed to come from the Venators. It bugged me that neither the Librarian nor Farouq had caught wind of it. That meant it was either too high for them, or was being deliberately kept amongst a chosen few.

I rang the Librarian.

"The Box appears in cycles," I said.

"I'll call you back," the line went dead.

I went back to the case file. How had the boyfriend heard of them both? There wasn't enough detail on him, as of the time of writing no one had found him and there didn't seem to be anything on him. That was strange in itself and I should have picked up on it. I knew two people who had such scant information on them in Government files and one of them was me. The other was Jules.

Ahh.

My phone rang.

"Rubbish," the Librarian said.

"How so?"

"You could read a cycle into it, but not if you analyse it. It only looks like a cycle."

"Cool."

"Good," he hung up.

Must have a new delivery, this was how he was when he was engrossed in his work. Maybe the restaurant permits had finally come through.

Venators weren't supposed to have family, you were supposed to renounce those that you had and you certainly didn't have boy or girlfriends. It was based on a Bible verse, Luke 14 verse 26:

'If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple.'

I don't think that was quite what Jesus meant. He meant that He had to come first, His plan for your life. Not the plans of your family, not even your own plans. Why? Because His plans for us are infinitely better, but also because sometimes He calls us to do something for Him. Like Peter or Paul. Or John. I like John's Gospel the best, I like John. The way he opens his Gospel, you get the feeling that he really got it, on an emotional level. Really understood Jesus. It says that he was Jesus' favourite Apostle and I wonder whether Jesus' human side was a lot like John's. They bonded over being the same and Jesus liked hanging out with him. John's Gospel in many ways is a character study of Jesus. But I'm getting away from myself.

Here was a new theory. The boyfriend was a Venator, the torture was to make him do what they wanted. But who was they? Fairfax was involved. They'd brought him in as a united front against a coup, but it wouldn't be unlike him to betray any or everyone to come out on top. I'd thought he had sold the boyfriend out, but maybe he had targeted him as a weak link to the information about the Box. But that still didn't work. They would have had to know about the Box or the Codex to start thinking about a coup.

Or did they? There were other ways. I thought on it, but time was against me. I needed something to bring to the detective in order to swap information and I had nothing. Could I just brace the friend?

Hang on. Jules had told me the Box appeared on a cycle, but the Librarian said that was rubbish. Either he wasn't seeing it because he didn't have all the facts (unlikely) or she lied about it. She underestimated him. She thought he would see the pattern and agree it was a cycle. Typical Venator, thinking all the rest of us were beneath them. But I was getting away from myself again.

There was no way to brace Fairfax on it and Jules wouldn't tell me the truth so I had to guess and I started to like the idea that the boyfriend was a Venator even more. But why would Fairfax share it with some nobodies? Nobodies that needed connections to be big enough to attack my office? Wouldn't it have been easier to go to sickos and Avatars that would have an interest? Would that have been too visible? Fairfax was aligned to the Kingdom of the Air, if he was playing the other side he would have to keep that hidden.

I was getting embroiled in it all again. I wasn't on this case to solve the Venator's coup for them, but to bring murderers to justice and clear the Voodoo church. A weird idea for a Christian, but I'm pretty progressive. Not that I think Voodoo is legit. I belong to a club because I think that club is right; therefore I think the other clubs are wrong. There's nothing wrong with that.

This is why I'm such a bad detective, I can't stay on track. What was I talking about? The murders, right? OK. But another thing was bugging me. Who watches the watchmen? Lots of people, as I've said. If the information on the Box did come from the Venators there would be a lot of people picking up on that. Streep would be one of them. He had lured me, or us, in with the promise of seal makers and I still desperately wanted to know why. It had been bouncing around in the back of my brain since last night and I couldn't focus on the other stuff because of it. Could it give me a clearer perspective of my role in all of this? It had been said that people were talking about me and Streep seemed to think I knew something worth kidnapping me over.

But I didn't know anything. I needed to talk to Peter's friend first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The friend, Michelle King, agreed to meet me within the hour. It was her day off and she wanted to talk about it, felt the Police weren't doing enough. That was good; she was passionate about the case and willing to talk on it. We met in her local pub just down the road from where she lived and I ordered a soft drink feeling both strong for not drinking alcohol and weak for ordering such a lame beverage. She got a pint of beer out of me, the first of a number I knew. The price of information.

"So you're a private detective," she said slurping on her beer.

"Yup."

"Must be cool. I work in my local video store. I'm between jobs, you know?"

"I know," I assured.

"You get much work?"

"I get enough. It's not as exciting as the books make out."

"What books?" she asked after another slurp.

"Movies."

"Oh, right. Those old ones are kinda cool. No one makes private detective films anymore, do they?"

"No, I guess not."

"Shame."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"Who was that actor? That played them?"

"Humphrey Bogart?"

"Yeah, if you say. He was kinda cool."

Kinda? Bogart was, still is, the man. He is the epitome of cool.

"You like him?" she asked.

"I try to be. Now tell me about what Aimee told you."

"I've finished my beer," she said.

I went and got another.

"What Aimee told you about the score, about the Box?"

"Right," she slurped more beer. "They knew where some box and some book was, Codex, thought it would get them a lot of money. At first anyway."

"What changed?"

"He didn't want to do it. That was the last time I saw her. I asked about it and she said it wasn't going to happen."

"What I really need to know here, Michelle, is how they found out about it in the first place."

"Dunno," she shrugged and drank more beer.

"Do you want this solved or not?" I asked angrily.

She glared at me.

"What are you saying? Of course I do, she was my friend," she came back with more anger.

"Then help me," I said soothingly.

She took her hand away from the glass. It was good beer and part of me was annoyed at the way she chugged it, but I pushed the thought from my mind.

"I don't know. He'd been involved in some dodgy stuff."

"What do you mean?" this had been in the police report.

"Nothing really, nothing anyone knew about. His name had been linked to some police cases, weird stuff, but Aimee told me it was part of his job, nothing bad."

"Secret kind of job."

"Yeah, I reckon some Government thing. Like a spy," she drank more. My window was closing unless she was a talkative drunk.

"So how did they find out about the Box?"

"I told you, I dunno."

"Come on, anything. When did it start?"

"She told me, what? Five months ago? No details, just excited, like they might win the lottery."

"And then?"

She drank more.

"Three months ago? She mentioned this Box you're so interested in. I dunno, she seemed to think they could get it, but it wasn't a done deal."

"How?" I pushed.

"She didn't say, it was Charles who was leading it. But I think she was more keen than him," she looked around conspiratorially. "I think she was pushing him into it. Maybe he had mentioned it and she had come up with the idea."

"OK, good. I guess that's all," I smiled thankfully.

She tapped her nearly empty pint glass with a finger nail. I sighed.

"I've got something more," she teased.

I got up and bought another pint.

"You're kinda cute," she said when I had sat down again.

"I bought you another pint to tell me what I already know?" I asked sternly.

"Funny too."

I liked this girl, I always had.

"What did this pint buy?" I asked reaching over and tapping the glass with a fingernail.

"The last time I saw her, she was worried. She told me not to say anything about what she had said. She said that she could get in real trouble if I did. I hadn't, y'know?"

"Of course not."

"Right. Or course not. She said the lonely walking man would be looking if he heard and Charles didn't want that."

"The lonely walking man?"

"Something like that."

"The man who walks alone?" I asked.

"Dunno," she managed to shrug and drink at the same time.

"OK, well thanks for your time," I said and stood.

"Yeah. Whatever. Just catch 'em, y'know?"

"I know."

I dropped some money on the table. Yeah, I know it was bad, but so was her remembering too much about our meeting. I walked away.

†

I walked into the office and Adelaide was sitting up straight and not engrossed in her computer. Something was very wrong.

"What?" I mouthed at her.

She flicked her eyes to my office, they were serious eyes.

Ahh, man. They'd be in my chair. I walked into my office to be pleasantly surprised. They were sitting in the client's chair on the correct side of the desk, but it was short lived as I realised why they were in the client's chair. To him anything else would be disrespectful.

The client's chair was deliberately uncomfortable. It meant that anyone who wasn't serious about the Mash they came to see me about would leave quickly. Only those really disturbed would put up with the chair. The smart ones would ask to move to the sofas.

The uncomfort would not bother him. He would bare it. He could have been here for hours.

"I have been seeking a word with you," he said without looking around.

"I'd heard."

"And yet you did not seek me out."

"You're a hard man to find."

"Not for those that seek me," he said. "Take a seat."

"It's a little scorched."

"I saw that."

"Of course you did."

"Still sarcastic," he said sadly.

"Still mysterious," I said back.

"I've told you before why I won't explain."

"Yup," I said and went and sat down. "The Exorcist. What can I do for you?"

"It is more what I can do for you," we both said at the same time.

"You mock me," he frowned.

"You're predictable."

He frowned deeper at that. He wore a black cloak with a hood that masked his eyes. Masked everything, it was all long and flowy. You wondered how he went shopping without garnering attention. In fact, for a guy who worked on mystery and not being known, you wondered how the whole cloak thing worked for him at all. You'd think he'd stick out a mile in the local supermarket. I had learned to read his chin though; it was the most visible part of him.

"Do you know why I'm here?" he asked.

"If I did, you wouldn't be here," I pointed out helpfully.

"That is true."

"You know I've seen you're face, right? You don't need the cowl."

"It is true," he said and drew it back.

His head was shaved, but he sported an amazing handlebar moustache. It grew out beyond his jaw line it was so big. I knew why too. He told me the last time we met.

They weren't fun times, I remembered with pain and a frown.

He had a shaved head and a big moustache because both needed constant dedication in their upkeep. It was like meditation for him, keeping them trimmed and/or shaved. I still reckon he just loved a good moustache. I'll be honest, I started growing one after the first time I met him, but Adelaide nixed it.

"There is more to all of this," he said.

"I'm already behind, I don't need to know that."

"But at some time you need to think of the bigger picture."

"No. I don't."

He shook his head.

"Still you won't accept your calling," he said a little sadly.

"I don't have a cool cape and cowl to help."

"Everyone who meets you should believe, for only God would put up with you," he sighed.

"You're still here," I shrugged.

"You don't like the Venators," he said.

"I don't like their approach."

"No. I can understand that, but they do good work in keeping the World from the grip of evil."

"As do you."

"I do what I am called to do. As do they."

I sneered at that.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"To tell you to look bigger."

"What's in the Box?"

"I know not."

"I don't believe you."

It was his turn to shrug. He used his moustache, rather than shoulders, to do so.

"That is not my concern, my concern is that you are involved in bigger things than you realise."

"No," I said forcefully. "I'm not. I'm involved in stopping murders. Nothing more."

He shook his head, sadly it seemed, though that could just be me reading it into him. He was a tough nut to crack emotionally. If he had any.

"You were given two choices and you chose a third. As did your secretary who even now is listening in to us."

"She does that with everyone, it's not you," I said. "Though she is a big fan of your work."

"I do nothing that I am not called to do," we both said at the same time.

"Am I?" he asked.

"Predictable? Yeah."

He frowned and I actually felt sorry for him. He meant what he said and he didn't expect anyone to be as infantile as I am.

"I apologise," he said.

"Shut up," I countered. "You know me."

"Perhaps I should be more like you," he pondered.

"Please don't," Adelaide said from the other room.

He broke a smile at that. Actually smiled. The Exorcist! Smiling. It was a strange World, after all.

"Your cheeks will ache in the morning, you do too much of that," I said.

"I see why He likes you."

"I don't."

"No," he said seriously again. "Hard on yourself, distance yourself from the Throne."

"I'm not worthy, you know that."

"And you know that Jesus' sacrifice brings us to the Throne, worthy or not."

I couldn't argue with that. I knew it to be true.

"Tell me one thing then. What am I looking for? How is this bigger than I am already seeing?"

"You think not that the Snake has a hand in all of this?" he asked.

"He can't know everything," I retorted because I'm fancy like that.

"He knows enough. This coup? You think he hasn't heard?"

"There isn't a coup," I said suddenly, leaning forward in understanding. "Or at least that isn't the whole truth. You wouldn't be here if it was."

He smiled and pulled his hood back up so his face was obscured.

"I am here to tell you to look bigger, look beyond in order to find the answers to the things in your view."

He stood up.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I walk."

"Then tell me everything."

He looked at me intently. Or at least it felt that way; I couldn't actually see his eyes.

"But I don't know everything. Isn't that why He got you involved in this? To put it together?"

I just looked at him as he walked to the door where he turned once more.

"Do you know why the demons fear to be defeated by you? If they cannot die?"

"No. I assume it isn't pleasant."

"Indeed. The answer is in Luke 8 verse 31."

I thought it through.

"The Story of Legion," I said.

"Very good. What is the verse?"

"And they begged Jesus repeatedly not to order them to go into the Abyss."

He nodded and walked out.

I sat there and looked at the empty doorway. It creaked slowly shut behind him. I'd never seen it do that. I can't remember the last time I could get the wretched thing all the way closed.

I don't know how long I sat there, staring at the door and trying to put everything in place in my head. Trying to look beyond it all, perhaps finding the key beyond the facts that I had.

I went back to the coup. What had Jules said? Between the Pit angels and the Air angels. I hadn't bothered with it as it didn't seem relevant to stopping these seal makers killing people, but maybe it was. What did it mean?

OK, so the Pit angels were the Grigori, the Watchers that according to the Bible, and more so according to the Book of Enoch, lusted after human women, left Heaven to mate with them and gave birth to the Nephilim, or Giants. Goliath was meant to be related to them. God wasn't best pleased with them for this and cast them out of Heaven. 2nd Peter 2 verse 4:

'For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them in chains of darkness to be held for judgment;'

They were a different lot from the one's who got cast out for following Satan. Satan's bunch got the Kingdom of the Air. They were thrown down to Earth where they proceeded to try and turn men and women away from God and to the same destruction that awaited them. Satan wanted to hurt God and knew that taking people away from Him, separating His children from Him, was the most painful thing he could do.

That's what's preached in church and it's true, but do you really think Satan's given up on his rebellion? Do you really think he's just sitting there waiting to be destroyed? No. He's still looking for a way to usurp the Armageddon and take over Heaven.

What the seal makers were, apparently, a part of was a coup by the Pit angels to swap places with the Air angels. What I needed to do though was check that I was right and that meant talking to Jules. I decided the best way to do that was by upsetting her. OK, no, the best way was to call her, but I felt like upsetting her. She deserved it.

After that? There was one question left to answer before I could put all this together. Who watches the watchmen?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

She walked into her office and I give her credit that she didn't scream in her surprise. She screamed in her face, but that was just a simultaneous twitch of the corner of her mouth and her right eyebrow.

"This is the most fortified place in the city, how did you get in here?" Jules asked.

"I just dropped in."

I'd like to say that was true, but I'd actually been sitting there for an hour waiting for her to return.

In that time I'd thought about the case, I also ran over the conversation with Adelaide after the Exorcist had left.

†

I'd been lost in my thoughts when she pushed the door slowly open. It refused to move at anything faster than the pace of a sloth.

"So?"

"So what?"

She gave me an angry face.

"Oh, him. Just a social call."

Exasperated face followed by angry face.

"Sit down," I said and she chose the sofa over the chair. "Quite taken aback are we?"

"There's a reason I work for you, Harker."

"The generous pay, sick leave and holidays?"

She thought about that.

"Other than those."

"He wants me to think big."

"Don't we all?" she retorted because she is also fancy.

"No. No we don't. I don't," I said poutily.

"You want to keep investigating Ouija boards?"

"It helps people."

"So would this," she replied.

"Oh, really? From you? You who tries to play secretary? And not very well at that."

She gave me a face that was a third scorn, a third hate and a third hurt.

"I came to work for you to make a difference," she said and walked out.

I called for her, but she left the office. I felt bad. I felt really bad.

†

"What's the coup?" I asked Jules.

She walked in and sat behind her desk. Her chair was a lot nicer than mine, but I wasn't going to play an-eye-for-an-eye by sitting in it. I had prodded it a little bit though. Nice leather.

"What does that mean?"

"It means, what are the details, what do you know?"

She sat back and looked at me. She narrowed her eyes briefly and then went back to just looking.

"It's taken you a long time to ask."

"It hasn't been important."

"But it is now."

"I'm going back over everything," I shrugged. "Back to the beginning."

"I don't believe you."

"You don't have to."

"Why are you doing this?"

"A local Houngan asked me to clear his temple's name."

"You're doing all this to help a Voodoo Temple?" she laughed. "The Man Who Walks Alone, huh?"

"I don't remember ever calling myself by that moniker."

"No, you call yourself much worse," she looked at me unblinkingly.

"And I've called you guys even worse. So tell me, what about this coup? How'd you hear about it?"

"It's Venator business," she brushed me off.

"You came to me for information."

"Which you obviously still don't have."

"Why are you so mean?"

"I'm not being mean. You know how we work," she replied calmly.

"Yeah. Meanly."

"Very mature."

"No one's ever called me that before. Oh, right. Sarcasm."

"The Great Detective."

"I am, aren't I?"

"That was also sarcasm."

"But that's why you came to me."

"What?" her eyes narrowed again.

"The Pit angels are trying to overthrow the Air angels," I changed the subject.

"Yes," she said with relief.

Again, you wouldn't know it because you don't know her, but I do and I could detect it.

"Doesn't work that way. Pit angels don't get to come out. Not the ones that count."

"No, others are doing their work for them."

"Still doesn't matter, the Pit angels don't get out. The seal makers, or whoever, would take over."

"But what if they could? There are ways," she said.

"Like the Box."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" I arched my eyebrows

"No one knows anything about the Box."

"The boyfriend does."

She paused for a second.

"No. He knows of the Box, but not what the Box does."

"There are theories," I pushed.

"There are. One says the Box holds this Universe and within it is another Box that also holds this Universe like a never ending Russian doll," she smirked.

"I hadn't heard that one."

"Tolson's Demonologica."

"Haven't read it."

"Don't bother."

We both smiled despite ourselves and I remembered a time when we were friends.

"How'd you hear about the coup?" I pushed my luck.

"You're pushing your luck," she said.

"I am. Why don't you want to help me help you?"

"You don't get it, do you?" she exasperated. "We offered you an in and you refused it. Do you think we're now going to share everything with you?"

"Don't be bitter."

"I'm not bitter, I just wish you were a Venator."

"I can still help you."

"It doesn't work like that and you know it."

"Your frowny face makes me feel sad," I said.

"Don't mock me," she warned.

"Then don't take yourself so seriously."

"This is a serious business. You seem to be the only one who doesn't think so," she scorned.

"Meh," I replied.

"See?"

You think you're the combatant, but you're not, you're just the sword wielded by God, is what I wanted to say to her, but I didn't. But that was their issue. They thought they were the ones making a difference, forgetting that everything was in the hands of the Maker.

"If you were taking this seriously you'd tell me."

"Various sources, Harker. We're a worldwide organisation. We've gotten reports from across the globe of movements and deals. Artefacts being traded or being looked for."

"Like the Box."

"No. That never came into it until here. The coup was well underway without it."

"So it's not important."

"No. Not in the overall scheme of things. If it was then it would have been forefront of it all."

"So what is? Forefront, I mean."

"Will that help your Houngan?" she asked with a twisted smile.

"No," I had to agree. "You're right."

†

I stood once again on the street, the evening had fallen and the wind was cold as I wrapped myself up in my Driza-Bone. Waterproof and warm, best thing I ever bought.

It hadn't been a total waste of time breaking in there, she had given some away. Mostly it was about me. About me being a detective, how she'd opened up because I changed the subject. It must have been important for her to be willing to share information to keep me off that topic. My involvement. It kept coming back to that, but I couldn't see why. She was playing me, that I was now certain of, but had she been playing me back then? I'd have to go back through it all later. I was coming close to that point. That time of sifting through all of it, but I still had one visit. One piece of the jigsaw to obtain before I tried to put it all together.

Before I could do that I got a phone call and a summons to the Library.

"Where you at? I'm busy?" I called from amongst the shelves.

"And I'm here at this time for fun?" he called back.

"Er, yeah?"

"OK, but not this time."

"Great," I muttered.

I walked into his office to find not him, but Garrett standing there.

"No," I said and turned.

Bruce was blocking my exit.

"No, Harker," he said disapprovingly.

"Come on, Bruce."

"No."

I sighed and turned back to Garrett.

"I'm a detective, Harker, you think I wouldn't put it together?"

"It's not that," I said.

The Librarian somehow squeezed his way past Bruce and took his seat.

"You as well?" I asked him.

"She asked me. It's for your own good."

"No," I shook my head. "You guys not getting involved is for the best."

"Not happening," Garrett shook her head.

"I'm with her," Bruce said unshiftingly from the doorway.

"So, what?" I asked.

"You said you'd call a meeting, we heard nothing," Garrett said. "That made me think. What would you want to talk to Jules about, what was on those walls? I looked at the photos."

"You were supposed to send them to me," I said.

"You don't need them, you know already. The real thing is Streep. He's the only thread you haven't followed."

"You followed me? No, I'd have seen you," I said. "Jules," I realised.

She gave a little smile.

"You think no one else noticed your little exchange with her?" she asked.

"I didn't," Bruce admitted.

"And you?" I asked the Librarian.

"Actually I had ulterior motives for getting you here. There is some talk of you worth noting. Considering."

"Let's hear it," I said trying to deflect just about everything.

"It was at the beginning, just as talk of the Box and the Codex appeared. There were warnings not to let you know, that you would find them before anyone else."

"I'm touched," I smiled.

"Don't be. It doesn't make sense. It comes out of nowhere, there's no talk about you before it and you weren't even involved at that point. I don't know, it just struck me as unimportant."

"Like someone was flagging him up?" Garrett asked.

"Yes," the Librarian nodded. "Like when you start to say something and then say 'don't worry'. People always want to know then. If you hadn't said anything no one would have cared."

"You're saying I'm a small fish," I said with a mock frown.

"Compared to this? Yes, we all are. Except Jules. But it was something a little later that really made me think of it. They mentioned Garrett here."

"Yeah? What did they say?" her interest piqued.

"Egotist," I said.

"Just that people should watch you as you were working with Harker. The thing is, this was at the very beginning of your involvement. Why would anyone worry about Harker talking to a cop? You're an exception to the rule when it comes to people coming on board with us and our work," he sat back and looked between us.

"Misdirection," I said again. "Getting people to focus on us."

"Who?"

"Who'd you think?" Bruce asked. He wasn't as dim as he made out.

"I really need to go and see Streep," I said.

"Which is why we're here," Garrett said. "It's dangerous. He tried to lure you in rather than just talk to you. It wasn't going to be nice, it won't be this time."

"We can't all go," I responded.

"No, but we can get you out," Bruce said.

I thought about it and nodded. Probably not a bad idea.

"OK."

We all sat down and talked about it, forming a plan.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

"Oh, please no, Harker," the doorman moaned.

"I come in peace," I held up hands.

"This is not a good idea," he said.

"It never is, Hotdog."

"Seriously, Harker."

"Seriously, I'm not here to cause trouble."

"That's what you always say," Hotdog reminded me.

"And it's always true. At the door, at least."

"Listen, Harker, I like you, you've done right by me in the past," I had. I'd gotten him this job. "But after what you did a few nights back? People are gunning for you. Especially for what you did to Streep."

"Who I'm here to see. Apologise, maybe."

Hotdog shook his head.

"They'll look for anything to justify it. And Harker? Fallen are in tonight. Two of them."

"Then maybe I'll beat them up too."

He frowned deeply.

"Relax, I'm joking," I said lightly, but I was actually worried. Fallen being there was not something I had bargained for.

"I'm not. I don't want to be disposing of you."

I smiled, that was nice of him, and then walked into the bar.

"Harker," he called back to me.

"Alright, alright. I won't cause any mischief. Promise."

The Triple Six Bar was packed and the level of depravity was up high. There were naked men and women everywhere and a lot of sex in the booths and, well, anywhere there was space and a few places where there wasn't. There was a crowd around a table where they were furiously betting on a game of Russian roulette and in another corner was a pool of blood that had two women trying to drown each other. Again with people surrounding it placing bets. As ever I had to swallow my revulsion and the urge to just shoot everyone in the room. Except those poor individuals forced to serve or play the 'games'. There was a loud crack and a cheer as someone lost the roulette. His or her body would be dragged out and disposed of and another poor soul would be forced to play.

I had to walk past the roulette 'game' to get to where I knew Streep would be sitting and as I did so there was a break in the crowd. I saw her sitting there, the seal maker that we had captured and questioned. She caught my eye and her face was drawn and defeated. I don't know what else they had forced her through before this. I knew that she had relayed the information that we were split and rather than gaining the reward she had expected, had been tortured and abused for other's enjoyment. Her eyes pleaded with me, not for help, but forgiveness. I crossed myself and she closed her eyes as she pulled the trigger and blew her brains out. I sent up a prayer for her soul.

"She talked," Streep said as I reached his table. "She had to be punished."

"She didn't talk," I said flatly.

He shrugged.

"Then take it as a lesson not to be so damned forgiving. You know you kill quicker than we do."

"How's the head?" I asked.

"I've had worse than you can deliver, Harker. And had it for pleasure," he smiled a wide, defying smile.

"Each to their own," I shrugged, "but I was asking Paul."

Paul didn't say anything.

"I assume you've come to apologise," Streep said.

"Yup. I'm sorry, Paul."

"Your humour will be the death of you. While you are here cracking jokes there are many eyes upon you, many wishing to cause you harm."

"I've noticed that."

"And you came here all alone? Seems foolish, even for you."

"You set those seal makers up. They were a lure for me so I thought I'd come and find out what you wanted," I told him.

"Without back up? I can't believe that."

"They wouldn't let me come if I told them. I hear it's a foolish idea."

"I have no interest in dealing with Venators tonight," it was his turn to shrug.

"I don't roll with them, you know that. I want to know what you wanted to know."

"Any other night I would turn you away, but we have special guests here tonight, guests even your Venators wouldn't want to mess with," he grinned smugly.

I had already felt their presence behind me, a slight smell of burnt electricity, and I knew who they were. Fallen.

"Take a seat, Mr. Harker," one of them said from behind me.

Paul, the body guard, slid out of the booth.

"You're an idiot," he whispered as he moved past me.

"I am, aren't I?" I said brightly and took his seat.

There were two of them, as Hotdog had said, one male, one female. Or at least that was how they looked in humanoid form. They were taller than me and both wore black suits with a dark red tie and had short, blonde hair that was slicked back.

"Twins," I said happily and they looked at me darkly.

"You have interesting friends and so do I," Streep said with glee.

"I have interesting friends, yours are scum. Much like yourself," I noted.

"You hurt me," he ironicalised.

"It's on my resume under hobbies," I replied not looking away from the Fallen. "Next to staring."

"You're an annoyance," the male Fallen said.

"You're a loser," I replied calmly though I felt anything but.

He bristled with anger, but the female smiled.

"You are the weakest link, Harker. Hung out to dry," she said.

"I see you've been reading my dating profile."

"You will tell us what you know," the male said sternly.

"You've already told me more than I needed," I shot back.

"I don't think so," the female said, but I could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

"Why don't we cut to the chase? What was it that Streep was so interested in knowing?"

"What I wanted to know is what you know," Streep said almost kindly.

That was his shtick, the nice guy, but those that believed it found themselves in unimaginably bad places. The kind of place I was likely to find myself in very soon.

"And what makes you think that I know anything?"

"This is the second time you have been involved in serious matters where the Box, or at least talk of it, have surfaced," he said.

If I'd been alone I might have slapped my forehead. I was an idiot. I'd mentioned it to the Librarian, mentioned that the Box had come up, but hadn't played a part in events. I was an idiot not to factor that in, but I was also an idiot for thinking that all that nastiness had been forgotten. I had done what I had and I had won and then I had moved on with my life. Could I really have believed that others would have just moved on? Just have forgotten what I, and those I had worked with, had done?

"Coincidence?" I asked innocently.

"No. I think you know more about it than you are letting on. Even to your friends," Streep said with a dark smile.

"Let us go somewhere more conducive to talk," the male Fallen said.

"Yes," Streep mused.

"Up," the female Fallen ordered and I had no choice but to obey.

I was getting into very dangerous territory here, but I had known that. I could get out now, but I would have learned nothing and, it seemed, there was more I should know than I had realised. Still, though I was an idiot, I wasn't so stupid that I wanted to go with them. I knew where we would go, a room out the back, somewhere designed for torture. Sadly just as much for pleasure as for gaining information.

I was roughly guided to the back of the bar and many people watched with smiles on their faces. They knew what was coming, and they were glad of it. I was finally going to get my just desserts. Still, that was not yet a definite, Streep knew that there would be retribution for anything that was done to me and the question was whether he could defend his actions. After what I had done to him and to others recently, he might be able to justify it to the Venators when they came. Thinking about it as I walked I realised I should have left the seal makers and come straight to him. We'd taken one into questioning knowing we could always come back for Streep, but it should have been the other way around.

We walked through a door to find a line of men and women. They were in poor shape and their eyes were either empty or pleading, they knew they were going to fight for their lives and many weren't sure they wanted to. Resigned to the fact that they had chosen dark paths to wander and the wolves had come out and devoured them.

Less and less these days people wanted to work to gain something, if they could get it for free then they would. They should. They deserved it. Christianity offered something good, but you had to work for it, you had to change, to sacrifice and people didn't want to. Certainly not for the promise of something in the future, something intangible. They no longer held a belief in Evil and so they did not even see the path they walked down. They got what they wanted, carnal knowledge and delight with no thought that nothing good came free. No thought that this might be a lure. Like the stranger with candy we were all warned about as kids.

We continued down the stark corridor, thankfully passing the end of the line and those who used fists and clubs to keep the order. Here there were doors on either side. Someone came out of one and walked back to the bar without even looking at us. Someone else walked up the corridor with cleaning equipment and entered the room. We stopped next to a door and one of Streep's bodyguards opened it and I was pushed inside. The room had plush sofas around the walls with little tables to hold drinks and in the centre was a chair with arms and a hospital gurney. Both were bolted to the floor and both had restraints.

I was shoved into the chair and restrained by the Fallen as Streep took a seat. One of the Fallen then whispered to a bodyguard who disappeared.

"I can see why we moved here, so much nicer than the bar," I said happily looking around.

"Oh, yes," Streep said with a smile. "So much more fun back here."

"I can't imagine," I replied.

"You won't have to very soon," the male Fallen said with his approximation of a smile.

"Seems like a huge waste of time," I commented.

"Oh yes?" Streep asked.

"Yeah. I just got on board this train to stop these seal makers from murdering people."

"I would like to believe that and save us all this," Streep said. "But I don't," his face fell seriously.

The bodyguard walked in with a video camera on a tripod and set it up in front of me.

"You're going to film this?" I asked with surprise.

"Indeed. If you won't talk maybe your Venator friends will to spare you."

"You know I don't have Venator friends, right?"

He smiled to himself.

"You don't seem to understand who you are in all of this."

"Depends what 'all of this' is."

"The Man Who Walks Alone. You are a dangerous entity, Mr. Harker."

"I don't mean to be."

"No, perhaps you don't, but it is who you are."

"Where is the Box?" the Fallen male asked. Rudely, if I say so myself.

"I don't know," I told him.

"Come now, Mr. Harker," Streep said genially, "let us see what you will tell us cooperatively."

The female Fallen opened a box on one of the tables and pulled out a scalpel.

"Well that's sorely going to depend on what you want to know. I'm just here to stop the seal makers."

"So you've said."

"So tell me," I looked from Streep to the two Fallen.

"It is you who tell," the female Fallen said slicing her own thumb open with the blade.

"From what I hear there is some coup in the works. No good for anyone."

"No. No good for anyone," Streep agreed.

"Except you. You're an opportunist."

He shrugged contentedly. "I am."

"And the coup doesn't worry you. You had the seal makers in your hands and you just used them to lure me in."

"They were looking for the Box, like many of us are. They are useless. You want them? I can give them to you," he shrugged smugly.

He was too smug. Too comfortable in his position, or his perceived position. He thought he was better than those around him and because of that he'd just let something important slip.

"Let us stop wasting time," the male Fallen said looking over at the scalpel.

"Not if we don't have to," Streep said. "But cut him, let him know we're serious."

She walked up to me and drew the blade slowly over my cheek. It wasn't deep, but it hurt and I could feel the warm blood leak out and down to my chin.

"All being well you will have a scar to make you more interesting to the ladies," Streep smiled.

"I have struggled in that department," I said. "Thanks," I grinned at the Fallen.

I thought she was going to slit my throat then and there.

"Where's the boyfriend?" Streep asked.

"I don't know. No one does, do they?" I looked at the video camera. "Except them. Do you really think they'd swap him for me?"

"No," Streep shook his head. "But she'll come for you. And then we'll swap one Venator for another."

"OK, so you want me to talk? How'd you hear about the coup?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Harker, you're not the one asking the questions," Streep told me pleasantly.

"Here's how this is going to go. Before I walk out of here I'm going to send these too buffoons to Tartarus. Oh," I realised.

"What?" Streep asked earnestly, leaning forward.

"Nothing. Where was I? Oh, yeah. You two are gonnas and then, Streep, you're going to tell me how you know about the coup and then you're going to tell me where the seal makers are so I can stop them once and for all."

He laughed. A big belly laugh.

"Cut him again. A good one this time."

The Fallen approached me.

"Remember earlier, I was happy you brought me here?" the scalpel was getting close to my eye. "Bet you thought it was my shtick, right?"

"You hide behind what you call humour," Streep said.

"Right. People always think that. The reason I'm so happy to be here is that it's soundproofed off from the bar."

Streep looked at me seriously.

"You wanted my friends to come, didn't you?" I nodded to the camera. "Paul? You should leave."

The bodyguard looked at me and then his boss. He took a step to the door.

"You need to think who you fear the most," Streep warned.

Paul looked at him and then me and then walked to the door. He motioned to the other bodyguard and then walked out of the door. The other bodyguard didn't know what to do, he moved from foot to foot and then followed Paul. I grinned at Streep.

"You're right, I am more important in 'all this' than I realise," I grinned.
CHAPTER THIRTY

"Cut him bad," Streep said angrily.

"You talk too much, Streep," I said as the Fallen weighed in her mind where to cut me.

The blade wavered up and down as she thought on the best place to cut me and still let me talk. She was deciding between face and thigh by the look of things.

There were two almighty bangs, head and heart, and the female Fallen stood erect with a look of shock on her face. That expression quickly turned to understanding, anger and then fear.

"Enjoy the Abyss," I said as she crumpled in front of me.

The other Fallen didn't have time to do anything in defence, two cracks, head and heart, and as he fell to the ground I saw her standing behind where he had.

"Adelaide," I said. I looked to the door to see Bruce and Garrett entering.

"It's just Streep," I said.

Garrett moved to cover him with her gun as Bruce came and unshackled me. Seriously, if he hadn't been there, I don't know that I would have gotten free.

"How was it getting in?" I asked standing.

"Tell me you learned something from all this," Adelaide asked disapprovingly.

"Yup. And now we're going to learn more. What did I tell you, Streep?" I kicked his foot.

He stared up at me silently.

"What I said was that before all this ended he'd tell me how he'd heard of the coup and where the seal makers are. Isn't that right?"

He just glared at me.

"Kill him and toss him back into the bar, no one will know he was a target," Adelaide said.

"Come on," I chastised. "You sound like one of them."

It was her turn to glare at me.

"I'll tell you what you want to know," he burst out.

That was the problem with these guys, so desperate to hold on to life. We could hold the threat of death over them and they couldn't do the same to us. You kill me and I gain everything. If I were to kill Streep then and there he would lose everything.

"I know. I already told you that," I said.

He called me a very bad word and Bruce slapped him for it.

"Bruce," Garrett chastised.

"You don't talk to people like that," he said.

"Now, Streep. Earlier you told me to take it as a lesson to not be so forgiving, but you know what? I'm still a forgiving man. You can still walk out of this."

He looked at me deeply and I wanted to turn away from his eyes.

"No," he smiled. "You're right, you are too forgiving, you won't kill me."

"No. But I will," Adelaide said holding the scalpel. She looked in the box and pulled out a battery operated drill. "This'll do nicely."

I pulled a pained face at him.

"She has a history with you guys," I almost apologised.

"You want the seal makers? I told you I can give them to you," he said with an edge of panic.

"First you're going to tell me where you heard of the coup. That and the Box."

He looked at me and then barked a laugh.

"You really don't know anything, do you? All of this," he waved at the room, "for nothing."

"You're going to enlighten me," I said and Adelaide pulled the trigger on the drill.

"OK, OK, I'm sure we can work something out here, can't we?" he held his hands up in supplication.

"Talk," Garrett warned.

"The coup? It's been going around for a while. If you were a Venator you'd know that. There are disadvantages to Walking Alone," he smirked at me.

"Not that I can see," I told him.

"Very well. But you did what you did, that last time, with no knowledge as to what you were doing. That can be dangerous."

"You're gonna have to start making sense soon," Garrett said firmly.

"Right. You wouldn't know. Got yourself involved in things way beyond your station in life," he smiled at her.

"I will shoot you," she said.

"No, you won't."

"No. I'll let her use the drill," she said flicking her eyes over to Adelaide.

Fear passed over Streep's face. He knew who Adelaide was. She spun the drill bit just to make the point.

"You wouldn't," he turned to me.

"I've been commissioned," I said. "And I bet you know my verse."

"Ezekiel 25 v 17," he said and his face lost all composure. "OK, alright. Listen to me. You stopped Hamzel, but what was he trying to do?"

We all just looked at him and he sighed wearily.

"He was trying to undermine the Pope, yes? He was trying to throw the whole of Catholicism into disarray. But that wasn't it. They were trying to get into the Vault. The Library."

"That actually makes more sense," I said.

"Right," he said with relief. Relief that he might actually be buying his way out. "Do you think it finished there? It was just a hiccough to them. Me? When the Box came up again I thought I could wrestle some power, a bargaining chip if I got to it first. And the word was that you would find it before anyone else."

"I want to know about these seal makers," Garrett said.

"Right," I nodded. "I told you what I was in this for."

"Fairfax. From what I hear they are his minions, but good luck on that one."

Of course.

"Tell me."

"He's made it clear what side he stands on, but he's playing both sides. Like me, he wants the power, but not like me. He wants something more. He wants to usurp the Snake."

"That's stupid," Adelaide said.

"It is," Streep nodded his head vigorously.

"You can't know that without the Venators knowing it," I said.

"Don't believe their hype. They don't hear everything. We know their game and we know how to protect ourselves from them."

"Not very well," Adelaide said.

"No," he admitted. "But they don't hear everything. You of all people should know that."

"I should have killed you back on that beach," she said.

He shook his head.

"Then you really would be one of them. You're better off with him."

"You're full of lies," she said angrily.

"I am. But look at you," he actually smiled with emotion. His eyes softened.

"You won't last after this," she said to him. I'd say it was tenderly, but I didn't know she had that emotion.

"No. So get it over with."

"No."

"There's no coming back from this for me. Not for long. Harker?"

"Streep?"

"It's not common knowledge, Fairfax is keeping himself hidden as you can well imagine. I chanced on this information. Put two and two together."

"Why tell me this?"

"This coup? Freeing from the pit to take to the air?" he shook his head. "They're not looking for the keys to Tartarus, they're looking for a bridge."

"Prove it to me. That Fairfax is behind all this," I challenged.

"I can't. Ask your friend Farouq about the Last Theorem, a man of your talents might be able to put it together from there."

"I'm a man of my word, Streep, we're leaving."

"No," he stood suddenly. "I warned you on forgiveness. Kill me quickly that I might not endure torture in this world as well as the next."

"I don't do that, Streep," I said. "I leave you to your own."

"I will," Adelaide said.

I looked at her, she looked at me. Her eyes said everything and nothing. I nodded. We left.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I sat in my apartment and stared at a print on the wall. It was Caravaggio's painting of David cutting off the head of Goliath. I had it up to remind me that whatever I went through, I could face it. And, with God's help, win. It also reminded anyone breaking in of the same thing, I hoped.

It was time for me to sit down and go through the evidence, put the case together and hopefully solve it. There was just one problem. I didn't have evidence for the case I was trying to solve. I had evidence about the Box and the Codex, or at least leads and ideas on them, but what would they tell me? Not where the Box was, but perhaps why everyone was looking for them. No. I had evidence to tell me where this had all started, I had evidence on this coup and what the seal makers were doing and why. But none of that interested me. I was doing this to stop them, to stop more innocent people being murdered and the answer to doing that had come simply enough. If I'd gone and talked to Streep straightaway then maybe I would have gotten that answer straightaway. Probably not, probably he would have tried to make me work for it and that was something I wouldn't do.

It fitted that the seal makers would be working for Fairfax, it also explained where they got the manpower to attack my office. That meant, however, that they were a lot bigger than we thought. If we were to look at crime reports, how many similar murders would we find in this city? This country? This continent? If he was looking for the Box then he would have people everywhere. Or, more likely, the person he was working for would.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle and a glass. I didn't really care what it was as long as it was booze. I didn't want to be here, I didn't want to be doing this. I didn't like to walk the dark paths and listen to the baying of the wolves that so desperately wanted to devour me.

If I was going to face Fairfax, and I already knew I would have to, then I was going to need to understand more than just the seal makers. I needed to understand what they wanted and why; and that meant getting dragged into this coup.

But what did that mean? I still didn't know where it all started. I'd been looking for a time before I'd gotten involved, but according to Streep this had all started much longer ago. Back to that last unpleasantness.

It made sense, in a way, that it had all started with the Captain and here I was working with one of his detectives. A sense of connectedness, that this flowed on from that. I'd thought about that off and on since it happened. I had gotten involved in something, I had dealt with it and I had moved on, though it had never really ended. It still kept me awake at night, it still drove me to the bottle when I thought on it. How had it gone from that haunting of the Captain's house to what it had become? More so, why? Why had they haunted the Captain's house? It didn't fit into anything that followed other than to get me involved, and considering the ending, why would they want me involved? Would going back help me to go forward?

Could I even get any answers by going backwards? After everything had settled I had gone back and tried to find some reason for the fallen angel to haunt the Captain's house, but had turned up nothing. I'd nearly burnt myself out with my obsessive sifting through the Captain's life, before Adelaide stopped me. It always bugged me, still did like an itch you can't scratch, that I was missing something. But if I couldn't find answers back then I doubted I could now. At least not from that angle.

The whole thing was somewhat similar to what I was doing now, in that I got involved in something that then turned out to be much larger. The difference was that there wasn't a direct link from the Captain's house to Hamzel and his plans.

I'd gone to the Librarian and Farouq looking for answers as to why a Fallen angel would have been, in amongst demons, haunting the Captain's house. In both cases I'd been told that Venators had come to ask questions on things very similar to what I had found in my exorcism, if you could call it that. And so I went to the Venators looking for answers and had been pulled into something much larger. It hadn't been all bad, I gained a secretary out of it. If you could call her that, but I had never gotten around to answering my first question. Why would a Fallen angel want to haunt some random guy's house? In the light of what was now happening, could I find that angle? Could I really believe that the Captain had been hiding something for so long? And so well? A connection to the Box maybe? No, I couldn't. If I were to believe that these were all moves on the chessboard then that itch got itchier. I said I needed to go back to the start, well that was there, but I couldn't see how it could throw up any light.

No. The Captain was a dead end, I didn't have the time. Instead I pulled up my notes from that last time. The battle with Hamzel. I flicked through it as I didn't want to read it, it was burned in my heart. It had been a slaughter and I had been a part of it. But here was the mention of Phillippe's Box. I scanned back to something that had caught my eye. The Codex was mentioned first, before the Box.

It was intercepted talk on the dark net, somewhere it shouldn't have been. It was referenced for a long time as The Guide and I remembered what I had recently read. About how the outside of Phillippe's Box was a map. I spent half an hour digging through my notes to find the book and page number. Then I dug out the book and read it again. Then I went back to my notes and then to another book. I put it down again and poured myself a drink. I drank it quicker than I had meant to, but that was no surprise with me. Nor was the fact that I then poured another. Then I pulled myself up from my chair and went to bed.

I lay there in the darkness and thought on what Streep had said:

"They're not looking for the keys to Tartarus, they're looking for a bridge."

And then the two parts of the books I had noted down:

'That dastardly covering, that carved prison that I and none I knew, knew what was inside. It mattered not, or very much, but that box. The box itself was a map to that desolate wasteland, it was a map to the World beyond the abyss, beyond the sky and Heavens themselves.'

And on the Codex:

'How can man navigate the Kingdom of the Air, or the land beyond the Pit, if he does not understand the lay of the land?'

As I was on the edge of sleep I thought of that verse from 2nd Peter:

'For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment.'

That translation used hell, but the original Greek used Tartarus, the abyss or pit. I briefly wished I hadn't drank so much so that I could get up and look into it, but then I was asleep. OK, no. I passed out. I'm not proud of that fact and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for turning to the bottle and then not being able to do the things I want to do. Be the person I wanted to be.

I hated myself.

It's a curse, but one of my own destruction. I want to run away, I want my mind to slow down, I want to think, but by using alcohol to do that I find myself in a position where I can't do it. Prayer, meditation, fasting. All these things would be a better way, but I shunned them. Why? Because I was scared of what He might ask me to do. God has a plan for all our lives, but I was scared to take it. It didn't matter though, did it? I was still here. Still doing this, walking the dark valley and listening to the wolves. The Exorcist had said it, so had Adelaide. They wanted me to look bigger, but I sabotaged that through my drinking, tried to stop God from taking me further along this path.

But.

As I walked the edge of oblivion each night I could admit the truth. God's plans were from good. Not to harm us, but to prosper us. To take that next step, however scary it was, would lead to a better life for me. My drinking, my sabotage was what stopped me, what kept me from leaving the valley, kept me staring into the Abyss.

†

I awoke early as I always do when I'm on a case, whether I like it or not and this morning I didn't like it. Strong coffees and a long shower helped a little, but I hadn't slept well because booze doesn't a good night sleep give. It was stupid, I was stupid. I knew I'd wake up early, I knew that I had a lot of paper work to do and still I drank last night. It was a worse demon than all that I had ever faced. I forced bacon down my throat even though the smell of it cooking made me want to vomit. Bacon is actually a pretty good cure for a hangover, but sobriety is better one.

I sat down at my computer and pulled up my notes. They were all wonderfully organised and clearly laid out because I had a secretary and I promised to not make any more jokes about her laziness. Reading over it all I still felt I was missing some building blocks, a solid foundation with which I could face Fairfax. He wasn't someone to be messed with lightly. I think I had one thing clear though, the Venators had their hands in all this.

The Venators were the ones who knew of the Box. Going back through my notes from the last time I saw that the first mention of the Box had come from a Venator. I'd mentioned the Codex and he had urged me to looked further, try to find mentions of the Box.

Back then we had all been scrambling to find information, trying to find where Hamzel and his minions would strike next. We'd won a minor victory, but it had meant that no one was quite sure how things would proceed. We were trying to second guess our enemy, find anything and everything that they could use to reach their goal.

You'd think I would have thought about all of this when we found the seal, but I hadn't really thought about it at all since that time. Not properly. Things kinda snowballed from that moment, all our hands were forced and I had ended up going toe-to-toe with Hamzel himself. I shouldn't be surprised if Hamzel had something to do with this, he would have done his time in the Abyss by now. If that's how it worked. Demons seemed to come back after a while and I knew I didn't have the power to lock demons, let alone angels, in the abyss for good. Could that be how it started? Hamzel going down to the pit?

Streep had brought it up, said that Hamzel was trying to get into the Vatican's vaults. Why? I probably should have asked him that, but we got side tracked and didn't have much time. If we'd stayed, people, if you can call them that, would have come to silence him and we would have struggled to get out alive. Still, I should have asked. I've been resolute on finding the seal makers, stopping the murder, but there didn't seem a way without solving the bigger puzzle. A puzzle I didn't want to get involved in.

So, the Venators, more than anyone, knew of the Box. They hadn't mentioned it when Jules and Fairfax had come to see me, but news of it was already out there. Most likely from the Venators. They call in Fairfax, trying to get the Air angels on their side to stop a bloody coup, but why had they trusted him? They knew what kind of worm he was. They knew he wasn't to be trusted. And he had proved that correct; he had found a Venator with a weakness, a girlfriend, and had had her tortured to get him to spill the beans about the Box.

Jules was playing the Box down while Fairfax seemed desperate to get his hands on it. If what the Exorcist had said was true, then I had to look back to find the truth. Look at the bigger picture. Hamzel had been looking for the Box or something similar and Fairfax had taken over that job.

All that didn't gel with the seal though. These seal makers weren't seal makers, but detectives like me, searching for clues to artefacts of power that could kick start the coup. OK, not like me, more like hired help, numbers instead of skill. And some of them had dreamt bigger. Some of them had taken what they'd been taught and used it to advertise. They were looking to sell what they had for a bigger slice of the pie than Fairfax was offering them.

I brought up the pictures from the safe house that our Mister Boner had visited. Yeah, there were pictures and plans of Venator HQ, and that still had to be considered, but I'd brought them up to divert attention away from what else had been up there. I didn't want Jules or her ilk looking into them before I did, but something had struck me then and been pushed to the back of my mind with the whole Streep thing.

Seals. A regular how-to on them.

Boner, or at least those that were in that house, were the seal makers and he had sold them out. Sold them back to Fairfax. He had been a double agent and that had been enough to warrant a party. To move up to the big time.

I laughed aloud to myself.

It made complete sense, that's how they had information on the Box, that's why they couldn't claim to actually have it. That's how someone got accused so quickly, how a demon got involved so quickly. Fairfax had stitched that up in order to take care of the seal makers himself. The only ones actually involved with the seal were probably the ones Streep used as bait. Everyone else was working for Fairfax.

All this time it had already been over. There were no more seal makers, they had been double crossed and killed. If we were going to stop the murders then we were going to have to stop Fairfax, but I didn't think we would have to. The murder of the family was risky, but he knew we were looking and he knew what the seal makers had done. No doubt he had risked the murder to do a sweep for the Box and/or Codex knowing that we would believe it was the seal makers. He couldn't be too brazen if he didn't want the Snake to notice.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

"So that's it?" Garrett asked.

"Yup," I replied.

We sat in a busy coffee shop. I'd explained how the seal makers had tried to get ahead and been sold out to get ahead.

She shook her head.

"I'll need more than that."

"I can't give you more than that. Anything else similar that comes up, you're know what you're looking at."

"Oh, gee, thanks," she said angrily.

"Well, what? What do you want me to do? Go back through your unsolved cases and you'll now be able to stamp 'Demon' on them. Some of them. It doesn't happen often, but it will still happen, just not by those we investigated."

"No," she shook her head. "No. We didn't investigate them, did we? We never even found them. All this spiralled out into something else, because it was always something else. Something you're not telling me."

"What does it matter?" I exasperated. "OK, no one will ever know it, but you solved the case. It's done."

"No," again. Very negative today, she was. "You're not done and so I'm not done."

"This is too big. You think you'll solve it? You won't."

"But you will?"

"We're not thinking in the same way, but no. I won't," I admitted.

"It's not even about that anymore. It never was about the seal makers."

"It's not something you have to get involved in, is what I'm saying, Garrett."

"I'm already pretty involved," she snapped back. "I asked the Librarian and he told me the poem, I get it, why they call you that, but it doesn't mean you have to do everything alone."

"Sometimes it's better," I replied evenly.

"Like when you were tied to that chair about to be tortured?"

"Exactly. I only got into that chair because I knew I had backup. But what if you guys never made it through the bar? Then what? We'd all be dead. Sometimes it's better, safer, to go it alone."

She looked at me looking at her and she nodded very slightly.

"But Fairfax is dangerous, isn't he?" she said more passively.

"He is," I nodded. "Extremely."

"Why do you do it?" she asked and I could tell from her tone that this was a change in topic.

I jutted out my bottom lip and shrugged.

"Who watches the watchmen," she said rather than asked.

"What?"

"You said it when we came out of that house, the one with the plans on the walls. You meant the Venators, who was watching them, that's why we went for Streep."

"Yeah. I think everyone is hearing about this Box from them."

"Right. But it's not just that is it?"

"Er, yeah. Pretty much."

"No," she looked at me intently. "You do. You watch the watchmen, that's why they call you the Man Who Walks Alone. You watch them all, but you're not alone, you pull people into you. The Librarian, Bruce, me. Adelaide. Who watches the watchmen? We do. And that's why you're not going to face Fairfax alone."

I looked at her just as intently. I didn't like it, but she was right. I was angry at myself for letting it be that way, I shouldn't be pulling these people into dangerous situations that they weren't called to face. Or maybe they were, maybe God did not call me by the same nickname as those on Earth.

"OK. Let's call a meeting."

†

I sat behind my desk pushing my new chair back into recline and then back up straight. Swivelling this way and then that; jacking it up and letting it down again. Breaking it in. I had wondered if there was any point, how long would it be before the next scumbag came and sat in it? I mean, why? Who goes into someone's office and sits in their chair? I have two perfectly comfortable sofas that they could relax on. Was it a power thing? Hey, look at me, I'm sitting in your chair, I must be better than you? I mean, wouldn't that just make you as good as me? Or in the case of someone like Fairfax, worse? I'm sure he had a nicer office than me with a much more comfortable chair, why would he want to sit in mine?

Fairfax. It all came back down to him. Except it didn't. He would be working for someone else. Fairfax was a businessman and banker who was into power.

Tangent! Name the worst sin imaginable. What was it? Did you say greed? If you did, congratulations, you win something. Think of any crime and see if you can insert greed in there somewhere and I bet you can. If you go back far enough into the reasons for most crimes it comes back to greed. Robbery is obvious; rape is a greed for carnal pleasure or the greed for power over another. Even when it's something like murder where the reason is something else, you can usually pare it back down to greed because greed is wanting what you want and getting what you want at any cost. You've heard the saying that money is the root of all evil, but it comes from the Bible and the actual verse is 1 Timothy 6 verse 10: 'the love of money is the root of all evil'. And what is the love of money? Greed.

You want to see true power? Talk to God, the Creator of Everything, but don't expect to get any of that sweet, sweet power. God knows we can't handle it and God knows that we don't deserve it. He can see everything and as a creator over His created, He knows He is more powerful than us. And he doesn't care. He doesn't want us to be concerned with power because He knows it's physically impossible for any of us to be as powerful as Him. When you start on the search for power you can't stop until you are the most powerful and that can never be, so why worry about it? Love and peace and sharing are so much cooler.

That's why the people who look for power don't follow God, because the power doesn't belong to them. They can't do what they want with it and if they could they wouldn't use it to help others find power, they'd use it to keep their own power.

So what do you do? Well you try to find the most power you can within the created orders and then either pretend God doesn't exist or try and take him down. Fairfax was in the second camp. He wanted power and so he had aligned himself with Satan. The greatest power on Earth, perhaps within all of creation. Now all he has to do is destroy God and then usurp Satan and he would be the most powerful person alive.

Think about that. You know anyone who has the ambition to not only usurp Satan, but overthrow God Himself too? Yeah, Fairfax was dangerous. More dangerous than most of the demons I had faced.

So what did I need to know before I faced him?

I spun my chair around to stare out the window as I thought and spun it back as I heard Adelaide force the door open.

"What?" she asked.

"Er, you came in here," I replied.

"To say I was going home, it's five o'clock."

"Cool."

"But your face tells me to stay."

"I am a good looking man, but..."

"Shut up."

"OK."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Fairfax."

She nodded.

"I thought you would."

"Can I not?" I asked seriously.

"No," she shook her head, but then smiled.

"I was hoping for a yes," I said.

"It wouldn't matter, you'd still go. As much as I hate to say it, you need Jules."

"I'd prefer you."

She shook her head and walked to the couch. She fumbled behind it and found a bottle of rum I'd hidden there.

"You found that, huh?"

"It's the only one I haven't thrown away. I hate you drinking, you know that, but I'm not going to stop you. You have to stop yourself."

I got up and got two glasses and joined her on the couches. She poured some liquor into each and I handed her one.

"It's not my fight anymore," she said having taken a sip.

"I can't trust her. The Venators are involved in all this."

She laughed.

"Jules hasn't joined the dark side."

"No," I shook my head. "I don't think any of them have, but I think they're playing their own game."

"She came here with Fairfax," Adelaide said. "You think she's playing him?"

"I think the Venators play everyone."

"They do, but she brought him here why? To help fight this coup? Or to bring him out?"

"Play it out."

"She got you involved in this. She got him involved in this. Now you're going after him."

I nodded and scratched at my throat.

"I don't suppose it makes a difference," I said and took a gulp of my drink.

I hated the way I seemed to be pulled deeper into things.

"No. But it means she may be willing to help."

"I don't know..." I erred.

"If it's true, you can lure him out. Oh, don't think I don't know."

"What?" I protested.

"You were going to just go in there and hope it all worked out," she said a little crossly.

"Worked so far," I shrugged and waved my glass for a refill.

If looks could kill I wouldn't have had my glass refilled, but I did because they don't.

"If he's looking for the Box, then you have a lure," she said.

It was, I have to say, a better plan than the one I had. Which wasn't going to Fairfax's office and hoping it would all work out. Honest, it wasn't.

Really. Honest.

"Alright. It's a good point. A good plan," I admitted.

She nodded to herself, as if scoring a point for making me listen, and finished her drink.

"Now I'm going home," she stood. "Go home. Prepare yourself. Mentally, that is where he will get you. Defeat you. Even Paul admitted to having worldly thoughts and desires, don't think Fairfax won't try and play on yours."

"I'm not sure I have any," I said glibly.

"Oh no?" she looked at the glass in my hand.

I grimaced.

She walked out the door.

†

I went home and thought on what Adelaide had said. She was right, you had to be mentally prepared to fight people like Fairfax. I had learned that the hard way in the Captain's house, I'd never fought a Fallen before, not one to one like that and it nearly broke my mind.

Something else bothered me though. I needed proof, evidence. Fairfax was a scumbag and no one would be sorry to see him go. There were plenty of Avatars and even sickos who would like to move into the spot he vacated; a flimsy excuse would be all I needed. For them, but not for me. I had to know he really was behind the murders, that he really was to blame and then- and then I would send him to the pit to await judgement and Hell and stop the murders. I also knew that neither Garrett nor the Librarian would back me without some evidence. Bruce would, but he wouldn't like it. No, the only one who would was Jules and that would make me just like them.

I sat in my comfy armchair with a drink and realised I was drinking more than usual. When it was just the Mash I didn't drink so much, when it got heavy I got more stressed and drank more, even though there was a greater need to be sober and sharp minded. It's funny because I never really thought about these things until after I had already been drinking and by then it was too late. If I thought about it before I drank then maybe I wouldn't. Or maybe I'd find an excuse anyway. Probably the latter.

What I needed to do more than anything tonight was to accept my fate. I had to accept that I was in this, that I was involved whether I liked it or not and that I had to be ready for what might get thrown at me. I had to face this challenge with a united mind, united in facing and defeating my foe. Without that acceptance there could be no confidence and without confidence in myself and my ability, then I could not win. As Adelaide had said, he would destroy me mentally.

And I had to pray. I had to pray that this was what God wanted me to do, that I was on the right track. Nothing meant anything if I wasn't following His plan. Even if it wasn't the way I wanted to go, or thought I should, it was the best way. He knew everything and He guides us to a better tomorrow even though we sometimes have to travel through the Valley of the Shadow of Death to get there.

'Is it?' I asked Him. 'Is this the way to go? You are wonderful and excellent and True and Right and I am nothing. But I want to follow Your plan for my life. OK, so I don't always want to, but I do. I'm kinda hoping that counts for something. If I am not supposed to go after Fairfax, if I'm not supposed to bring others with me into this fight, then please put a stop to these things. I wish Your Will be done in this.

'And God? Please protect us.

Amen.'

You wouldn't think I could drink after talking to God, that it would be disrespectful. Asking Him for help and then doing something I knew He didn't like. But I did. Because I'm an idiot, because I am selfish and a bad Christian. Because we all fight demons and we don't always win.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

I stood on a desolate plain, above me the sky was pitch black though it was still light enough to see. Physics and logic had no place here. I say the sky was pitch black, but I knew that there was no sky, what I was looking at was nothingness. The nothingness that the scientists say the Universe is expanding into. This was beyond the Universe then. Beyond the Earth and the sky and the waters.

In front of me were seven massive balls of fire hovering above the ground. They were strangely not what lit the place nor were they like the sun. I could see dark patches as if the fire was guttering, going out. Or at least struggling to keep ablaze. There were great chains lashed around them, fixed into the ground and the balls moved as if they were trying to break free and soar into the sky once more.

Seven stars.

I looked behind me and I could see the great abyss and beyond that the green hills and blue skies of Earth. From the pit I saw hands reaching up and trying to find purchase in order to pull their body's up behind them. I had nowhere to run, but wakefulness.

†

I woke up feeling surprisingly good and took a long hot shower followed by a short cold one. I felt good and I felt ready. I had committed my future to God and was ready to follow His lead wherever that took me. So, yeah, I did it by drinking and deciding I didn't care anymore, that I had nothing else to live for, and that wasn't the best way of doing it, but it was done. I was prepared to see this through wherever God led me and I didn't care what the outcome was for myself as long as it was His outcome.

I was nonchalant.

First things first was to see the Librarian. Streep had said that I should talk to Farouq about the Last Theorem and the Archangel Michael had mentioned it as well. What was most interesting was that Streep had mentioned Farouq, but not the Librarian. That meant it wasn't just information, but that Farouq knew something specific. Like maybe it had come up recently with him in connection with Fairfax. It was perhaps not the Last Theorem itself, but the person or people asking about it that led Streep to Fairfax.

†

"You don't need me to tell you about it," the Librarian said as we stood in front of a glass case.

Inside was a book and a small statue of a large breasted woman. Seriously, she would have had major back issues if she were real.

"Found in Hoia Baciu Forest," he told me.

"World's most haunted forest," I replied.

"You know it?" he seemed surprised.

"One," I said testily, "it's my job. Two, you mentioned it before."

"Have I? Oh. Anyway, it was found there. The book is blank unless the statue is near it, but even then it is in some kind of code. I can't break it, I think maybe I need another statue."

"Fascinating," I ironicalised.

"It is actually."

"You're probably right, but my mind is on other things."

"Right. Centaine and her theory."

"Pretty much."

"What do you know?"

"You think I understand stuff like that? Something to do with bending science and magic to travel to Heaven or the Kingdom of the Air or something?" I trailed off. I really didn't understand what little I knew.

"The mathematics are incomprehensible," he admitted. "It makes sense, you can see that it does, but only if you know something that we don't."

"See? Even that doesn't make any sense."

"You have to understand Mathematics. It follows rules," he looked at me and sighed a little. He knew he had to dumb this down. "If I show you a complex Maths equation, you might not have the first clue as to how to solve it, have even the faintest idea where to start, but you still recognise it as Mathematics."

"OK. So you know it's Maths, but it's too complex even for you guys," I nodded proudly.

"No," he burst my bubble. "It's not that it is too complicated, it's that the variables are completely unknown. Like she's using a whole branch of Mathematics that we don't even know about."

"Then how do we know anything about it?" I asked.

"Because it's a Theory. She wrote about it, though in cryptic terms."

"So what did she say?" I exasperated.

"It's philosophy," he shook his head in frustration.

"Philosophy?"

"Yes. She talks as if we should already understand what she is talking about. She doesn't explain the basics, but philosophises on them and the Mathematics involved. Lots of parables."

"Right up our alley," I grinned.

He looked at me sharply.

"I'd never thought of that before."

"Whoa, whoa, come back," I snapped. I could see his mind start to wander. "Think about that when I've gone."

"What more can I tell you?"

"What do people think?"

"Like you said. Some kind of travel. To Heaven, to other Galaxies or Universes, time travel. It's the one constant between nearly all of the scholars. That it's about travel."

"Tell me the exceptions."

†

"What about four visits?" I called as I turned the sign to closed.

There was silence from the shop, but there was also a funny smell. I charged through the shop and leapt the counter at the back. My feet barely touched the ground as I bolted through the door and into a surprisingly spacious back room. Farouq was there struggling with a large man. An Avatar and he was losing the battle. The Avatar had his hands around Farouq's neck and began lifting him off the ground as I pulled my sword without stopping. Farouq began to kick and prise the man's hands away, but to no avail. I spun to the right and stabbed the Avatar in the side. Deep enough to wound, but not kill.

The Avatar dropped Farouq and grabbed at his side reflexively before turning to me. More demon than man I could see by its eyes. All blood shot and dark. It grinned at me and its teeth were stained red with blood, it had bitten its tongue in its blood lust.

"Harker," it rasped.

"Ta da!"

It laughed a gravelly laugh. Farouq was on his knees massaging his neck, but he began to recite the prayers.

"I was hoping you would show up."

"Hence the unlocked front door. Well, here I am, what should we do? Press flowers? Knit? Ooh, quilting."

"Your attempts at humour are as pathetic as you are," it grinned at me. Its bloody tongue lolled out and seemed way too long for a human.

"From you, I'll take that as a compliment. How's the abyss this time of year?"

"I wouldn't know," it smiled at me.

"You will in a minute," I smiled back.

"Let us see."

It struck with speed, low and to my left and I dodged right and brought my sword across. I missed and the Avatar sprung upwards forcing me to go low and to my right and giving up my sure footing. I dodged Farouq and thrust forward, but the Avatar swatted my blade down as it punched me in the side of the head. I fell and dropped my sword, but just managed to roll before my head got stomped on. I was up again and punched the Avatar in the back of the knee as I came up. It grunted in pain and fell to one knee as I came up standing and punched it in the back of the head. It hurt my fist more than it hurt him. I staggered back as it got up and we faced each other again.

"You think you can beat me in a straight fight?" it leered.

"I should think so," I sort of shrugged with my head. It grinned back.

And then it came at me and we were grappling. Whoever the dude was, he would have been strong without a demon inside him; with one, I didn't stand much of a chance in a straight fight, but in a wrestle? Then I was in close and everyone has pressure points, even Avatars.

It had its hands around my throat, and because of its height, I had clear access to its armpits. Yup. Armpits. Sorely overlooked in fights, very painful. I held my hands open and pushed the fingers together before jamming them, fingertips first into its armpits. It howled and as the grip released I put all my force behind a blow to the sternum, another pressure point, there in the centre.

It staggered back involuntarily and as it did I brought a foot up and into its kneecap. The Avatar buckled as I leapt to the side and landed a foot in the sword wound in its side.

"Told you," I said holding my sword to its throat.

It was now on its knees and losing a lot of blood. It was in even more anguish as Farouq was praying a prayer that was trapping the demon in the body.

"Now we talk," I said.

"You think I will talk?" it asked without looking up at me. All its energy was going into trying to break Farouq's prayer.

"If the body dies, then you're in even more trouble than you would be normally. I dunno what happens, but someone once said you get dragged in front of Jesus along with the person's soul."

It just grunted.

"Tell me what I want to know and we let you go. I hear the abyss is lovely at this time of year."

"I was promised a place in Heaven," it said.

"By whom?"

"The Police Captain," it looked up and grinned at me that bloody grin.

Then the body arched and shook. I looked over at Farouq who was toppling over as I watched.

"I'll see you in Hell," it said before the body shook violently and then collapsed to the floor. Dead.

I pulled out my phone without a witty one-liner and punched a number.

"What?" Jules asked irritably.

"Find and protect Garrett now," I ordered.

"What is this, Harker?"

"Now," I shouted.

She hung up on me. A sure sign she was in action. I went over to Farouq and cradled him in my arms. His eyes flickered, he'd fainted. His head rolled back in my arms and I could see the bruising on his neck. I picked him up and walked him to the other little room where I laid him on one of the sofas.

He came around to the smell of rich Arabic coffee and his red eyes focussed on mine.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"Can you drink?"

He nodded slightly and I helped him sit up a little more before giving him a cup of coffee.

"I fainted," he apologised after a few sips of the strong coffee.

"I noticed," I smiled, but he grimaced. "Come on now, most people keel over at the hands of a demon."

"Except you," he managed a smile. "The Man Who Walks Alone, taking on a demon with his bare hands."

"I had help."

He took another sip and was quiet for a moment.

"To answer your question. A fourth visit normally means someone else will try and kill you," he gave a weak smile.

"Now you're just making it up," I smiled.

"Help me up."

"Rest."

"No," he tried to get up and I had to help him to sit. "You came here for a reason. You saved my life by doing so."

"Now isn't the time."

"If it wasn't then you wouldn't have come."

"Centaine's Last Theorem. Streep told me to ask you about it."

A sad look came over his face.

"I am neutral, I don't take sides," he said.

"How's that working out for you?" I asked over at the door.

"I have no interest in fighting; I merely collect relics and antiquities."

"Come on, Farouq," I said a little testily.

"Is that so wrong?" he shot back.

"No, just misguided. No one cares if you see yourself as neutral."

"No, maybe not," he took a sip of his drink. "Conslow's Spiritual Warfare in the Crusades."

"What?"

"It's a book about the alleged true purpose behind the Crusades. A cover for the Venators to retrieve holy relics, fight a few spiritual battles. Other things, if you believe the book."

"In a war no one would notice a few other battles."

"Indeed. Constantinople held many Holy treasures when it fell," Farouq nodded, winced, and rubbed his neck.

"Like Phillippe's Box," I said.

"Someone came asking about it. If I had a copy or if I knew where to get one. Asked about your Librarian, whether he had one, they were obviously too afraid to go and ask him themselves."

"Who was it, Farouq?" I knew why he had looked sad at my mention of it.

"Keyana," he said with a little shame.

I sighed internally.

"One of Fairfax's right hand men. Woman," I corrected myself.

"How was I supposed to know?" he pleaded. "People want access to all kinds of books for all kinds of reasons."

"But you didn't think this was important when I came asking about the Box?"

"I don't know; why should it be?"

"Because not everyone's neutral, Farouq," I blasted and then felt bad. "I'm sorry."

"No. I deserve your scorn," he said into his coffee cup. "I have been naieve."

I rubbed my throat with the backs of my fingers.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why did she want a copy of the book?"

"It's a second-hand account. Told to Conslow by someone who had claimed to have read the actual book."

"Actual book?"

"If there is one then the Venators have it locked up in their vaults. I see no reason why they wouldn't have records of their operations."

"But that doesn't answer my question. Why did she want the book?"

"She told me it was to try and verify a piece someone was trying to sell to her. That is often why people come to see me. I offered to try and verify it myself, but she declined to bring it in."

I chose to ignore this as a lie. If it wasn't and she did have another relic linked to the Box and/or Codex then it was too much to consider anyway. I needed to keep it simple and get my evidence.

"And so. How does any of this link to Centaine's Theorem?" I asked tiredly.

"There's a code, so they say, mentioned in the book. The code can help break Centaine's Theorem," he put down his coffee cup just to hold his hands up in a hey-I-don't-know gesture.

"Alright," I said and stood. "I'll make a call and someone will come out and clean this up."

"I know who to call," Farouq said also standing. I nodded. "Harker?"

"Yeah?" I turned at the door.

"Am I safe?"

"Yeah. I have to assume Keyana is working for Fairfax and I have to assume killing you was not worth it unless they thought you would talk. They're watching me and decided I shouldn't talk to you. Now? They know you've already talked, no point killing you anymore, is there?"

"That's not wholly comforting."

"What is anymore?" I walked out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

I called Jules back from my car.

"She's fine," she said rather than your usual hello.

"Hello," I said.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Are you going to tell me or should I come over and beat it out of you? Actually, please don't tell me."

"Funny."

"One of us has to be."

Ouchy.

"The Library. I'm on my way now."

"Harker..." but I cut the line.

†

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"Farouq was attacked by an Avatar."

"Is he alright?" the Librarian asked. He seemed genuinely worried and I wondered if the two of them met up to discuss ancient stuff.

I had always assumed they were competitors.

"He's fine. Well, he's a little battered and bruised, but not, you know, dead or anything."

"Good," the Librarian nodded to himself in internal relief.

"They're trying to shut us down," I said.

"They?" Jules asked.

"Don't play dumb with me," I snapped at her.

"Don't you..."

"Oh, shut up for once. I'm not in the mood for your silly games."

Amazingly she did shut up.

"I'm," I looked at Garrett. "We're going after Fairfax; he's behind the seal makers."

"No, Harker," Jules said.

"Yes. I tried to ignore all this coup stuff to solve the murders, but it's all been interlinked from the start. Cut off the head."

"It's too big," the Librarian said.

"Too big for God?" I asked him and he kept quiet.

Yep. Though we all worked for Him, we still had a tendency to think of our own skills, abilities and limits.

"He'll only help you if it's what He wants," Jules said.

"I'm not asking any of you to be involved in this," I said.

"I'm in," a voice said from the door.

We all turned.

"Sorry I'm late, I ran into a little trouble."

"Oh, Bruce," I said.

It was Jules who ran and caught him as he collapsed. It was only Jules who had the strength to catch him. The Librarian ushered us into another room, one with a sofa that we could lay him down on.

"Sorry, Harker," he grimaced at me.

"It's cool, Bruce."

He was badly beaten up. Jules checked him over and he winced here and there.

"Nothing broken as far as I can tell," she said.

"And how far is that?" the Librarian asked.

"Pretty far."

He nodded, satisfied.

"You need to see a doctor," I said. "Rest and recuperate," but he shook his head.

"What happened?" Garrett asked.

"Gang of sickos."

"They're trying to get rid of us," I said.

"Who?" Jules asked.

"Fairfax, who do you think?" I snapped.

"Why?"

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Why now all of a sudden."

"We're not finding out what you and he wanted us to find out, instead we keep digging deeper. The plan has backfired."

"What plan?" she asked a little more angrily.

"The plan to get me to dig out the Box. That's what you wanted wasn't it?"

"No," she jabbed a finger at me. "What I wanted was to know if you heard anything about the coup."

"Well that's not what he wanted, but now we're getting a little too close to the truth and he's shutting us down."

"Why did you bring Fairfax in on this?" the Librarian asked her.

"He came to us. He had heard rumours and he wanted us to know that he wanted any inkling of a coup crushed. There had been talk of Harker, we'd heard it, so had he, that's why we went to him."

"But surely you knew he couldn't be trusted," the Librarian pushed.

"Of course. We were careful; we kept a watch on him."

"We hitting him?" Bruce asked from the sofa.

"No," I shook my head. "Not yet. I need proof he's behind the murders."

"The seal makers?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, but bigger than that," Garrett said.

"As I said, I'm in."

"You need to rest," Jules chided.

"Then get your evidence and call me," he grinned at me.

"And what is this magical evidence?" Jules asked.

"Your dealings during the Crusades," I said.

"Tell me not Conslow," she sighed heavily as if I were an idiot.

"It's what he was looking for."

"I'm not getting involved in this," she said. "I can't even if I wanted to."

"Yeah. But if and when we go up against him, we'll need you there," I said with my serious voice.

She looked at me for a moment and then nodded slightly.

"I'll get Bruce home," she said and saw the look on my face. "I can take care of myself, so can Bruce."

"Right. Yeah. I'll be in touch."

She took Bruce's hand and helped him to his feet.

"Don't forget me now," he said. "This ain't nothing a good night's sleep can't fix."

I nodded.

"I'll be in touch."

They left.

"And what was all that about?" Garrett asked.

"You know what? I don't really know. Nor do I overly care. Can we use your computer?"

"Of course," the Librarian replied.

We went back into his office and he got behind the computer. I told him to search for any occult-like killings, more specifically any like the ones we had been involved in.

"Where?" he asked.

"Everywhere."

He typed in all the relevant data and got a long list of cases.

"You need to narrow the search down," he said.

"No. That's the point, isn't it?" Garrett said. "He's doing this all over the World."

"Right," I said and the Librarian nodded. "I, we, can't know the full extent of what he's doing, or why. What I do know is he's looking for the Box and the Codex; who knows what else. And he's killing people to find them."

"And I have to say, that's the only part that interests me," Garrett said.

"Understood," the Librarian nodded.

We did a lot of nodding. Partly because we weren't used to having someone from the outside in with us, but partly because we were working this out as we went along. Nodding to ourselves as we understood things. We'd never really done anything like this before, nothing this big on our own and it was just getting bigger by the day.

"But why can't Jules be a part of this?" Garrett asked.

I told them what Farouq had told me.

"Yes," the Librarian said in deep thought. "A poem."

"What?" Garrett asked impatiently. I took her meaning.

"Centaine was a Mathematician and, apparently, a philosopher. The dates are a bit hazy," I looked at the Librarian.

"Yes. Different sources give different dates and even the earliest manuscripts haven't been proven to be originals."

"And what is the earliest manuscript?" Garrett asked.

"1943 give or take a year," the Librarian said rather sheepishly. He didn't like not knowing exact facts.

"You're telling me in the middle of World War 2 there was someone just coming up with Maths problems?" she exasperated.

"No. Just that that is the earliest copy," the Librarian said.

"The war was a good cover for a lot of other stuff, Garrett," I said. "And don't tell me after all you've learned that you don't think demons were involved in it all."

She looked at me for a moment and then shook her head.

"No. I don't believe it."

"Why not?"

"Because people are bad. I can't believe that every bad thing that happens in the world is because of demons."

"It's not," the Librarian said.

"No, it's sin," I continued. "But they get themselves involved if it will help their cause. Millions of God's chosen people killed?"

"Alright, alright. But what has this got to do with us?"

"All I need is to link Fairfax to the Box and/or the Codex. Then I'll be satisfied that he is involved with the killings," I said.

"But why? I mean, I'm a police officer, I need facts, I need evidence to bust people, but you? You don't. You could just go in and take him down."

"We need to prove things to ourselves; we need to be upright and holy. We can't just go around killing people on the suspicion of evil. God gave everyone a choice, we can't kill them just because they didn't choose the same as us," I explained.

"Seems ropey," she replied.

"Perhaps it is. And if we're wrong then we pray that God will stop us and lead us on the right path."

"Harker will kill Fairfax if and only if it is an act of judgement. If and only if he is the arm of God's vengeance against the wicked," the Librarian said.

I was kinda touched that he was sticking up for me. I even smiled.

"As a police officer I shouldn't even be listening to this," she frowned.

"You don't have to be a part of this," I said softly.

"And I told you before that I was. The police aren't going to stop this guy; at least we can have a police presence," she said.

"I'll start looking into murders that could be linked to Fairfax," the Librarian said. "What else?"

"Where do we go from here? Where would Keyana have gone next?" I asked him.

"They didn't come here so she would have tried Bulson's library."

"But they did come here, didn't they?" Garrett said.

"Right," I agreed. "After we questioned the woman. They came for us all."

"You think it was a cover to get in here?" she asked me.

"Could have been. I'm not sure we'll ever know. We've come in and had to try and work backwards and forwards on this."

"It doesn't matter," she said.

"Maybe not. Maybe it does," I replied.

"It does," the Librarian said firmly.

"Why?" she asked, no doubt as intrigued as I was by his stance.

"Because I understand where you are coming from, Detective Garrett, but it is not the be all and end all."

"It's people's lives," she insisted.

"It is, but we are trying to stop a lot more than that. It's not just people's lives, it's everything. People like Fairfax aren't bad, they're evil. They're not serial killers, killing people doesn't interest them. They're not a product of their society; they're not lashing out at an unfair society. They are conscious of what they do, they know they are evil and choose to be so. They don't want money or power in an Earthly sense.

"They want everything, they want it their way and they'll do anything to get it. They want to see the very fabric of the Universe undone. They want to take the Throne of God and watch Heaven burn."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I travelled out alone, from one city to another. I hadn't been out of the city for a while and it was nice to travel through the countryside even on a grey, overcast day. It gave me time to think too and I had a lot to think about.

This had all started with the seal. An unknown group of people who thought they knew where the Codex and Box were and thought they could go it alone. But it meant that Fairfax thought he knew where they were too and he had had the Peter's girl tortured for the information. He would have been able to talk to the boyfriend, no, that would give him away, he would have made it possible for someone to contact the boyfriend. Whatever happened to the boyfriend, I wondered, he hadn't snapped, hadn't given Fairfax what he wanted, but had lost his girlfriend in the most brutal way. Was he still a Venator or had he disappeared? Walked away.

Either way, what was important now was that Fairfax had thought the Venators had the items, or at least knew where they were. Why did he think that? From watching the watchmen?

Stop.

The coup. It came first and it brought Fairfax to the Venators. Fairfax wanted the Box and or the Codex and thought the Venators had it. Was there ever a coup? Had Fairfax invented it as a cover? Or was it real and he was using it? Either way, it gave him an in and he used it. He discovered that a Venator had a girlfriend and tried to use that as leverage. Somewhere along the line a group of his minions learned enough to think they could get to the Box first. Maybe they had tortured Aimee Peters and learned enough. Thought they could persuade the boyfriend.

So what had it all been for? The Box. It occurred to me then that it was the Box not the Codex, but I threw it aside as maybe it had been just me focussing on the one. TI gnawed me that no one was telling me what was in the Box, but Fairfax had to know enough to want it so bad. I could only assume that it would somehow lead to his own power.

Step back. Once again I was getting pulled in and I had to ask myself, did I need to be? Did it matter in finishing this? Those questions could come later if they needed to be answered, for now I merely needed to know if Fairfax was murdering people. I had to have a case to argue for those people who would be unhappy with his demise.

Samyaza. That's what the woman had said. And Nelchael. We hadn't taken her seriously, but if she had been working for Fairfax then maybe she had heard something of that ilk. It was a lot more terrifying than I am making out; the idea of Samyaza being involved. I checked all of my mirrors thrice, as if he might have heard my thoughts and come for me.

Samyaza. Leader of the fallen Grigori, the Watchers that left Heaven through their lust for human women. There was no way he would have contact with anyone like the seal makers.

I couldn't call them that anymore, could I? They weren't, they were Fairfax's henchmen. The Henchmen? Good enough.

Anyway, the Henchmen wouldn't be talking to the likes of Samyaza, but someone like Fairfax could. It would make sense that he would be if he was helping, or pretending to help, engineer a coup. I thought again of Hamzel being sent to the abyss. Was that the link?

And what of Nelchael? We're really getting out of the Bible here, but there are texts that say he teaches astronomy, mathematics and geography to other demons. But this is in Hell and he ain't there yet. Neither is he bound in the abyss as far as the writings go and I know that not all of the fallen Grigori are. I've met some on Earth.

What was it that Farouq had said? He reckoned the Codex and the Box were travel guides and she had mentioned a fallen angel who taught geography. And what had Streep said? That they weren't looking to get into the abyss, but beyond it. To that place where the likes of Samyaza were bound in their chains of darkness.

If the Box and Codex were guides to that place, maps, then you would need someone who could read them. But what then of Centaine's Theorem? I sucked in a lung full of air and let it burst back out before sucking another one in and letting it out slowly through my teeth.

It was like getting kidnapped and dumped in a completely foreign environment and having to work out how to escape. I had no bearings and I wasn't any closer to finding some. I was just flailing through the dark hoping that I was heading towards the light.

I had to stop thinking about it as I entered the city and drove around a little before I got my bearings and headed for the library.

†

It had been a long time since I had been here, but nothing had changed. It was called a library, for that was what it was, but it was nothing like the Librarian's. It was much smaller and more specific to books, in fact perhaps the Librarian should have been called the Curator as his was more of a museum in comparison.

I walked in expecting to find a body. Actually I had been expecting it to be locked.

"Hello?" I made myself an easy target though the shop was obviously empty.

The shop was a decent size and the walls were lined with book filled shelves. There were a few lower bookcases in the middle as well as chairs to sit and read. All very comfortable.

"Coming," a young woman's voice replied.

I was tense, but the voice sounded friendly and familiar and then a friendly and familiar face was looking at me from between the shelves.

"Help you?" she asked.

"I'm looking for Bulson," I said.

"You're looking at her."

"I was expecting you to get older since last time, not younger and more feminine."

She laughed.

"You knew Grandfather."

"Apparently so. My name's Harker."

"Ahh," she ahhed.

"Ahh," I replied.

"Two years ago now," she said.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"I'm not. He was in pain and has gone Home now."

"It's a better place, so I'm told."

"He talked about you."

"I'm not that bad."

She laughed again. It was weird. Or normal and I just hung out with too-serious people. The latter probably.

"He only said good things about you. He wished you would have visited more often."

"I didn't realise it had been so long, but I guess it was," I frowned.

"Don't frown. He understood. I think he understood you more than you realised."

"Then he definitely is in a better place."

"He said you were funny."

"He did?" I said with surprise. "I mean, he did."

She smiled again. Have I mentioned it was weird? She was, what's the word? Happy.

"I guess you've come because of her."

"I guess so."

"Lock the door and come through to the back."

I ran through all the scenarios in my head as I walked through the shop. They had obviously decided that killing both Bulson and Farouq at the same time was too obvious, but I had to wonder why they chose Farouq first. It could have been months before I heard of Bulson's death. They must have thought that Farouq was more important and that made me wonder if he knew more that he hadn't told me.

Or they just thought Bulson's granddaughter wouldn't know enough to be a bother. Not that that would stop them; they'd kill her just to be on the safe side. And that meant I had to stick around for a bit. I couldn't leave knowing that she was a target.

I walked past an L-shaped counter in the corner and through to a reading room. There was a door on the opposite side of the room with a sturdy looking lock in it. I knew that the door itself only looked like wood, but was actually steel. Steel and prayer.

Bulson's granddaughter was finishing the second cup of coffee from a machine and she handed it to me while taking hers to a couch. I sat on another.

"So," she said.

"Where's your Dad?"

"Away."

"As ever."

She smiled a little at that.

"Yes, I guess you know that. He's always away looking for books."

"Must have been hard on you growing up," I said. It seemed paternal, but she couldn't have been much younger than me.

"I won't lie to the Great Detective, it wasn't always easy."

Seriously, was everyone sarcastic about me?

"But I had Grandfather," she continued, "and Dad was back for long stretches of time. He just missed so much."

I didn't need to ask about her Mum so I didn't.

"So tell me about this her," I asked instead.

"Grandfather always tried to be neutral, as you know. He said that the information belonged to everyone. He expected to be able to buy and read freely, it wasn't his place to deny others once he had his hands on the information."

"That I know."

"Right. I'm not my Grandfather. I didn't like her from the moment she walked in. There's a war going on, Mr. Harker..."

"Apparently it's just Harker. And I know."

"Of course you do," she blushed. It was cute. "I don't think information should fall into enemy hands."

"It's not wise to get involved in the War," I cautioned.

"We're all in it, whether we like it or not. The only question is whether or not we fight," she came back at me with bite and I couldn't fault her.

"What did she want?"

"Spiritual Warfare in the Crusades by Conslow. Or Drachen's Artefacts of Christianity."

"Do you... wait? The second one?"

"'Artefacts of Christianity' by Drachen. A right-hand man of Hitler that history has either forgotten or never knew about."

"Spear of Destiny and all that," I said.

"Right. That was Drachen. The Demon world thought that Hitler could gain enough power to find such objects for them. Some say he did. Or Drachen did."

"And..." I started.

"Yeah. I sold her a copy of Conslow's book."

I stood.

"Calm down."

"Calm down?"

"You're thinking of the code. It's not in there."

"It's not?"

"No."

I sat back down.

"When was all of this?"

"Three, four weeks ago?" she said and her voice said she didn't know exactly.

Didn't matter, it was around the right time for them to know they could get nothing from the boyfriend. They'd changed tack. Or maybe not, perhaps they had realised that the boyfriend didn't know where the Box was. But if they were still trying to get the code, they must have thought it was still close at hand. This was already information that led me closer and knowing that Farouq was still alive and had talked? Well, they would definitely be coming for her.

I'd told Farouq 'it wasn't the time' and he'd responded 'if it wasn't then you wouldn't have come', suggesting that the Big Man Upstairs had a hand in my visit. If that was so I could be in the right place at the right time once again. Or wrong place/wrong time, if you see things that way. You know, which I tend to.

"So if this code isn't in there, then why did she want the book?" I asked.

"It's generally believed to be in there. I could bore you if you want."

"No thanks."

She shook her head just a little.

"That's not the attitude to have."

I shrugged and sank my now lukewarm coffee.

"It's all I generally have time for."

"It's a mistranslation, or a mistelling," she explained. "People just don't read anymore, or don't read enough. If they did they would know that."

"I'm pretty sure the Librarian reads a lot."

"And I'm pretty sure he knows," she smiled back at me.

"He better not. So where's the code really?"

"In the Box of Phillippe?"

"Seriously?"

She shrugged.

"It's a theory."

"Great," I exasperated quietly.

This was not getting me any closer to anything.

"So why would she want this Nazi book?" I asked.

"Location of artefacts. She is looking for one, right?"

"The aforementioned Box and Solomon's Codex," I told her.

She stood.

"Come with me."

I followed her to the steel door as she unlocked and swung it open. We walked into another room lined with books.

It struck me that this girl was tougher than she looked. I knew the lock was magical, in that it had prayers inlayed into it, but why hadn't Keyana just forced her to unlock this room? She must have known she wouldn't do it and the door would never have been opened.

Said door swung shut with a dull thud and I felt oddly enclosed in the room. As if the knowledge from the books filled the air, stifling it.

She walked over to a bookshelf and scanned it before pulling down a book. She motioned me to a table in the centre of the room and we sat side-by-side at it. She opened the book at a random page.

"It's in German," I pointed out helpfully.

"And you don't read German?" she asked with ironic surprise and the ever present smile.

"It is important to note that many do not believe in such things and that is good for us. Christianity should be played down against science at every turn. In this way we are free to search without hindrance," I read.

"I'm impressed," she said in an impressed voice.

"This is Drachen's book then."

"'Artefacts of Christianity'," she agreed.

"Then this is a more important book than the Conslow."

"Yes. Very much so."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

They came the next day.

"Hello? We're looking for a book," one called from the shop.

"Give me two secs," she called back from the reading room.

"We'll just browse," came the response.

"Well hello," I grinned from one of the sofas as the three men entered.

"Harker," one of then spat.

"Hurrah," I waved my hands above my head.

"Well killing you will save your little friend's life," another said.

They all looked kinda the same. All dressed in dark greys and blacks with sunglasses on. Like a uniform of their own choosing that they thought made them look cool and dangerous.

"You guys are the knife brought to a gun fight," I said.

"One of you, Harker, three of us."

"I know, right? Unfair advantage to me."

One of them laughed, one of them seemed uneasy.

"We brought back up," the lead man said.

Suddenly he was convulsing and I was up on my feet.

"Just in case you got to her first," he said with a low, gravelly voice.

Even his buddies looked a little scared.

"Pfft," I said.

"Very brave," it smiled.

"I thought you'd brought actual back up," I said. "Now, you other two are probably scum bags, but that doesn't mean I'm going to kill you if you want to back out."

They both looked at me and weighed up their options. The uneasy looking one took the opportunity to run. The Avatar cracked its knuckles. I sighed.

It came at me as I pulled my gun and shot the other guy, then the Avatar was on me, smashing my gun away and grabbing me by the throat.

"Stay back," I croaked to Bulson's granddaughter. "All under control."

He lifted me off of the ground. I put my hands on his shoulders and swung my feet in. I pushed off of his legs so that my body swung back and the change in weight caused him to topple forward. As he let go of my neck to break his fall I pushed myself up off his shoulders so that I came to land, feet first on his back. His chin smashed to the ground.

"Start praying, you know what I'm talking about," I shouted at Bulson's granddaughter.

"To stop the demon leaving," she hurried back.

"Get on with it," I shouted.

I got up and walked over to the other guy who was holding his leg where I had shot him.

"Your Avatar friend is unconscious," I pulled my other gun, "I'm about to shoot him so that he bleeds. If the body dies, the demon inside will get sent to the abyss or worse. It's going to want to inhabit you to finish me off. With that nasty leg wound? You won't make it."

"Please," the man moaned.

"Here's the question. You want an ambulance or you want a demon?"

He talked. At length. I didn't even have to shoot the other guy. The demon, unfortunately got to leave and the other two got a special Venator ambulance service. They probably hate me about now.

†

"I want to come with you," she said.

"No," I shook my head.

"I want to fight," she urged.

"I don't. It's not fun. You have a job here; there are people in this city that need your knowledge."

"There are people from all around the World who come for my knowledge, that doesn't mean I don't want to do something more."

"And what happens to all of this? You become a fighter instead of a scholar and all of this goes to waste."

She looked at me intently.

"It's just frustrating to hear of people like..."

"No," I cut her off. "It's not nice, it's not heroic and it isn't fun. I look forward to the day I don't have to do this."

"Will you pray with me?" she asked quietly.

"If you want."

"No. If you want."

"I'm not great at prayer."

"Do your best," she smiled and then closed her eyes.

"Ahh. People got hurt here today, Lord. Were they bad people? Yeah, but I sometimes wonder if that's their fault or the fault of others that pull them in in this broken world. You're not too popular, you know? No one wants what You are peddling. And, er, I don't know your name."

"Annie."

"And Annie here wants to fight, but she's missing the point, isn't she? It's not about fighting, it's not about war, but peace. It's about letting people see the Truth of who You are. Help us to remember that, help us to follow Your plan so that we can make the world a better place for everyone.

"Help us to resist sin. Amen."

"Amen."

†

I drove back after a quick lunch and a scan through Annie's books. On the drive I mulled over what the Henchman had said.

I couldn't believe my luck, though I knew it wasn't luck. I thought I was going to have to piece together evidence, but it was coming to me.

Fairfax's secrecy was becoming his undoing. He couldn't risk doing anything that would draw attention to himself unless he really had to, but at any point where he might be found out he had to move. If that didn't work, as it hadn't with the attempts on Farouq's and Annie's lives, he risked being outed.

Keyana could have visited Farouq for any number of reasons and no one would have questioned it. Unless I was closing in on the Box, then it would be enough of a coincidence to look into. And so there was the attempt to silence him, but it had failed. Now it looked even worse for Fairfax. It would be hard, but not impossible for him to explain it away; she could be working on her own. It could be coincidence and no one was saying that Fairfax had any interest in the Box or Codex, he could deny everything.

The attempt on Annie would be harder with what the Henchman had told me. He'd not been briefed by Fairfax, or even Keyana, but by a woman he didn't know. She had been stupid enough to let him see her face and though he couldn't name her he could describe her. I knew who she was; she had been sitting with Bobby and Geoff at the bar where Bobby had given me the lead to Farouq. Where I had seen the Fallen. There was no way that she would still be alive, but I could bet that they hadn't touched Bobby. Yet.

I understood what Streep had meant about putting two and two together. You could hide in the shadows, but you couldn't keep something this big a secret. There would always be one or two people who could work it out; who were just in the right places at the right times.

I had a lead, just like a real detective and it was time for some interrogation. But for that I would need an actual real detective. Actually, after the last time in one of those bars, I was going to need a lot more backup.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

"You've got a nerve coming here," the doorman said.

"I do, you're quite right," I replied.

"Come on, Harker, what you did at the Triple Six?"

"I was kidnapped," I exclaimed.

"You went over to talk to them. Streep hasn't been seen since."

"He hasn't?" I asked with genuine surprise. No corpse.

"You know he hasn't."

"I was kidnapped and my friends saved me. People shouldn't have tried to stop them," I explained rationally.

"Right," he wasn't buying it.

"I'm only here to talk to someone. I don't want to spend any more time in here than I have to, you know?"

"Right," he wasn't buying that either.

"You can't stop me."

"I could."

He was a big man.

"OK, you might be able to, but it wouldn't be a good idea."

His face drooped a little.

"If the crowd turns on you, I'm not coming in to help you."

"You're sweet," I smiled as he pushed open the door.

The bar was dark and noisy like a ship's engine room lit only by strobes. It wasn't the ideal place for a conversation. I went to the bar and pretended not to hear the spiel about not causing trouble. I could feel the eyes on me, the hate and lust to attack me. I looked around and smiled at as many people as I could. This was the end game and I was bored of playing. If Fairfax was pulling the strings then he would know how close I was and he would be looking to shut me down. Coming here would be the perfect opportunity for it, tidied away as people taking revenge for what happened in the Triple Six Bar.

I got my drink and walked through the bar. It was mostly a dancefloor with tables radiating around it back to booths at the walls. I said it wasn't an ideal place for a conversation, but actually it had been built so that the booths cut out a lot of the noise, but anyone trying to overhear would struggle over the pounding music. And, of course, there were the private rooms overlooking the bar along one wall. All this meant it was a great place to swap secrets and I saw more than just sickos, Avatars and their affiliates here. There were business people, neutrals and Venators in tonight.

I walked along the edge of the dance floor that was full of young people drawn to the carnal pleasures they could get here and nowhere else. It was a good recruitment ground for Evil. None of the young people knew who I was and that was a good thing. They would not be an issue. It was the looks from the tables that I should have been worried about, but wasn't.

I had a solid lead from a reliable source that Bobby would be here tonight and if he welcomed me then everyone else would think twice about interrupting. I'd made sure said source was right before entering, so now it was just a matter of finding him and I assumed he'd be in one of the booths. As I walked through the tables and pretended not to hear some quite derogatory comments about myself, my mother and my God, I looked up at the windows overlooking the bar. The private rooms. It was then that I knew we were in trouble. In one, looking down, was the Fallen that had come and sat with me. If Bobby was still living and breathing then he wouldn't be for long and the demon inside of him would be tossed into the pit without a second thought.

I continued walking but had a nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach that the Fallen had seen me looking at him. I reached the booths at the back and quickly scanned them until I spotted a still breathing Bobby. I casually looked around as if I was still looking for someone and tried to clock anyone who was waiting to pounce on me. It was hard to tell in a bar full of people who would like a go at pouncing on me anyway, but I noted a few people to keep an eye on. I pretended to spot Bobby for the first time and walked up to the table. He was with a man and two women.

"You've got some nerve coming here," the man said.

"So I'm learning. Now shut up. Bobby you need to come with me. Now. It's a trap and unless you're going to smile evilly and say 'I know' you're going to end up dead."

"What are you talking about, Harker?" he said brusquely.

"I'm talking about you being bait for me and here I am. They're going to silence us."

"I don't think you understand who he is," one of the women said. She was older and draped in finery; jewels and furs.

"I don't think you understand who's really important here. Here's a hint, it's not you," I told her. "Bobby?"

"I don't buy that you're here to save me, Harker."

"I wasn't. I was here to interrogate you, but I won't get a chance if we don't leave now."

He looked at me. One of the women tried to say something, but he slapped her across the face without taking his eyes off of me. He slapped her so hard her head snapped back, hit the wall and knocked her out.

"Alright, Harker."

"Well, well, well," a voice came from behind me.

I closed my eyes and scratched at my throat with the backs of my fingers.

"What did the man say when he saw three holes dug in his garden?" I said as I turned.

In front of me was a large man, an Avatar by the look and smell of him.

"What?"

"Nothing. We were just leaving," I beamed.

"Not anymore. Some people have some issues with what you did at the Triple Six."

"I know, I shouldn't have gotten kidnapped. Schoolboy error, but I've learnt and grown."

"Four people died," the Avatar said.

"And if that had been me I would be facing something more official than a lynch mob in a bar."

"Oh, but you are," it grinned.

"Hello again, Harker," the Fallen said as it pushed the Avatar out of the way.

"Hi, how's it going? My friend here and I were just leaving."

He made a disappointed face.

"No, no, no. You and Bobby are not friends."

"We do business sometimes," Bobby said, now standing behind me.

At least he had realised how much trouble he was in. I had only one thing on my side, this was a rush job. They'd followed me and the path I was on and had realised where I would come next. They had quickly put a plan together to ambush me. The fact they hadn't just killed Bobby meant they needed me out of the way and the fact that the Fallen was the one to do it meant they couldn't afford another mistake.

"Oh, really? What kind of business, Bobby?"

"Information. He's not as dumb as his jokes."

Oh, nice.

"Well Harker here is now closed for business. Streep's death needs to be atoned for," the Fallen said.

"Are we all just ignoring the fact that he kidnapped me?"

"You shouldn't be playing where you're not wanted," the Fallen chastised me.

There was now a decent sized group behind it.

"It's you guys that came and ruined the sandpit," I replied.

He made a cross face at me. And then pulled a sword.

"Lots of Venators in this evening," I pointed out.

"Yes," he nodded with a smile. "And all will be well aware that this is in return for the Triple Six murders. There's no one here to help you."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," I grinned at it.

The semicircle of assorted sickos and Avatars was now surrounded by my, admittedly smaller, gang. The Fallen looked around and smiled.

"Hardly an army. You will be cut down."

"You think? Because I have a small, but highly trained group of fighters and you have a bunch of hedonists."

Its face gave nothing away, but I could read its eyes. It was uncertain. I used my eyes to point behind it and it turned to see the Venators in the bar standing up to see what was happening. Someone cut the music and I could see bouncers trying to herd people out.

"This man killed Streep in cold blood, along with killing or injuring a number of other innocents. We merely ask an eye for an eye," the Fallen proclaimed loudly.

"He didn't kill Streep, I did," Adelaide proclaimed even louder. "He and I were friends once and I wouldn't leave him to scum like this."

To say that caused a fuss amongst the sickos would be an understatement.

"Venators, she is no longer one of you," the Fallen declared. "She has denounced you. They work for themselves and defy the rules."

This caused noise from the Venators, not all of it against the Fallen. Plenty of Venators that would like to see me get my comeuppance. And those that were with me.

The air was so thick with tension that a wrong move, any move, could lead to an all-out brawl. I looked at my gang. Garrett, Bruce, Adelaide and even the Librarian, who could handle himself in a fight better than he let on. I looked at Adelaide, who nodded.

I looked around the room; I had to believe that someone had some brains here.

"Then I draw my sword against you," I said to the Fallen.

It smiled.

"Good."

I think everyone was a little surprised when I actually drew a sword out of thin air. Everyone knew what kind of sword that made it and even the Fallen showed a little surprise in its eyes. It had no choice but to fight. If it backed down or lost then there would be retribution from those orchestrating the coup. If I got out of that bar alive then they had to believe it was knowing exactly what was going on. Even though I didn't.

We faced each other, our swords touching lightly, waiting for the other to make a move. I could see out into the bar, through the flashing strobes and disco lights, the Venators had moved into the crowd to better see what was happening. It struck me that there was an unusual amount in the bar, but I pushed it to the back of my mind.

I swept my blade down and to the right where the Fallen stepped back and used his own blade to push it further around before trying to stab forwards. I stepped back with my left foot so that the blade passed through empty air and I was now standing side on to the Fallen. I raised my sword up, underneath his outstretched arm and he stepped back so that it passed by his face and then we both stepped forward to face each other and our swords clashed.

"I'm impressed with your ego, thinking you can take me on," it grinned.

"Maybe I have a death wish."

"Oh, but I won't let you die, not for a long time, not until you Renounce."

"Does that make me immortal then?"

"I will make you Renounce, little man and then you can join your parents in Hell knowing your God had no wish to save you," it sneered.

We duelled as the others looked on. Apparently everyone was more interested in seeing who was going to win than actually fighting amongst themselves.

The Fallen angel matched me for every stroke of the blade, no doubt knowing that I would tire long before it did. All the while it kept up a monologue of my sins and failures; all the ways God had left me and the World, all the reasons He didn't care for me. Mentally trying to break me.

I needed to make a move and I needed to make it soon. I tried once, twice, three times to break out of the duel and land a blow, but every time I was matched by the Fallen. Kept in the duel.

It was Garrett, bless her, that took the initiative, that realised I was going to lose soon and then we would lose Bobby. She walked around and then pushed through the crowd at a place where she could grab him. He let her pull him through the onlookers. The Fallen pulled back and held up it's sword as I took a much needed breather.

"Stop her, you fools," it commanded.

And then all hell broke loose. Lower case 'h'.

"Now, of all the times, now I really need Your strength," I prayed.

As the fighting erupted around me I swung low and cut a deep wound across the thigh of the Fallen. It howled in pain and brought it's blade down upon me, but I just managed to bring my sword up to meet it. I was in a bad position and forced to roll back as the Fallen slashed down at me, catching a nasty wound across my back as I rolled. Then I was up again to deflect another blow. I slid my blade along it's blade and then flicked it to slice it's chest. It stepped back in pain and surprise, which was the wrong thing to do as I was able to slash back down across it's belly.

It stopped it's monologue to roar at me and swung in wildly, but powerfully and I only just managed to duck before launching myself forwards and landing on the floor slightly behind the Fallen. It was no good, I couldn't win in a fight, it was just a matter of time before it beat me, I wasn't mentally ready for it. I wasn't physically ready either, they are much stronger than we mere humans.

"Get back here," it roared and I rolled as I heard the blade come through the air.

It had thrust it straight down and the tip buried itself in the floor. I brought my arm up and out and lodged my blade into the Fallen's arm and it cried out as it let go of its sword. I was rolling away again as it tried to stamp on me. I was up on my feet as it pulled it's sword out of the hard floor.

"Think you can beat me, little man?" it grinned at me with bloody teeth.

"Walk in the park," I grinned back.

It charged at me and our swords clashed. The vibration from the sword rolled through my body and I stepped back giving the Fallen an opening. It brought it's sword down and across slicing me in my left side. I brought my sword up in the air as I stepped back in waves of pain, lifting my face to the ceiling and giving the Fallen access to my neck. It went for it and I brought my blade down as hard as I could to block it. The two swords clashed again and I gritted my teeth against the vibrations as I used all my strength to stop his blade and then I stepped right, turning my body sideways and as his momentum carried him forward I slid my blade along his and then lifted to bury into its throat. I pulled the blade back and out, severing the arteries. Blood gushed and the Fallen staggered forward a few steps before it turned to look at me.

Its face was one of shock and unbelief. It dropped its sword and put a hand to the deep wound before collapsing to its knees and then slowly dissolving as its spiritual form was sucked into the abyss.

"Walk in the park," I croaked before I too fell to one knee.

"Come on, Harker, no time to rest," Bruce said as he lifted me up by one arm.

"Seems like a good time to me."

"Garrett's got Bobby out, time for us to leave."

"So we can rest?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Cool," I smiled woozily sheathing my sword.

I don't remember much of Bruce fighting his way out of the bar. The next thing I remember was being on a sofa in the Library and having bandages around my body.

"How'd we do?" I asked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

I could have felt a lot worse. My wounds weren't life-threatenly deep and they had patched me up good. Due to their fast acting I hadn't lost too much blood either and after a litre or two of water and a sugary soda I felt a lot better.

"Slowly," the Librarian warned as I got to my feet.

"I'm fine," I said before losing my footing and being grabbed by Bruce.

He sat me back down.

"Thanks. Where's Bobby?"

"Safe," Garrett said.

"I need to talk to him."

"In time," the Librarian said.

"No. Now," I stood again, this time with Bruce's help.

Man, I was sore. Body, mind and soul.

"You gonna be OK?" Garrett asked.

"I didn't ask you here because I'm weak and in need of comfort," I grinned at her.

"I'll poke you in your wound," she threatened.

"She's mean," I told Bruce.

"So I see," he smiled.

"Just take him downstairs," she told Bruce with a smile of her own.

We were all smiles, joking together like a real team. It was nice. Touching. It would have to stop.

We drove out to another secret hideout, this one just a house. The drive wasn't wonderfully comfy for me, but I managed to sleep nonetheless. My body badly needed sleep, but I wasn't sure any of my muscles would work when I woke up again.

The house was pretty empty except for one room which held Bobby, Adelaide and Jules. No one was talking, which wasn't surprising; it wasn't exactly a room of friends.

"Harker," Bobby said standing. "You saved my life."

"And look what you got in return," I said looking around. "Chilly in here."

"It is that," he nodded while heroically not looking at the two women.

"You should be resting," Adelaide said.

"That's what I said, but they were all, 'you have to do this, work is more important'."

"Funny," Garrett said sitting down.

"That's the second bar you lot have trashed," Jules said.

"Technically it was your lot," I said. "Surprising amount of them in one bar at one time."

"Why have you got Bobby at a Venator location?" she asked in reply.

"I don't know, I didn't bring him here. What are you doing here?"

"I heard all about it," she fumed.

"Right. From all those Venators fighting in the bar."

"Why fix him up? Why not let him bleed out?" she asked the Librarian crossly.

"Because then we'd just be left with Venators," the Librarian replied acidly.

Ooh, that stung her.

She looked back at me and let out a long sigh.

"So you killed a Fallen in one-on-one combat, huh?"

"Apparently."

She nodded.

"It's pretty impressive."

"It's very impressive," Adelaide said.

"Alright, Mater," Jules snapped.

"Play nice or leave," I warned.

I walked over to an arm chair and sat down. Bruce stood in the doorway while the Librarian leant against a wall.

"Sit back down, Bobby."

"You saved my life," he said again.

"And here you thought we were enemies."

"We are enemies, Harker."

"Right, so I must want something."

"It's a fair trade," he admitted.

"It's just delaying the inevitable."

"Get on with it."

"That night you told me about Farouq, remember?"

"Sure."

"Who was the girl you were with?"

"Jeanette. I know where this is going. You want to know what happened after you left."

"Yup."

"That Fallen? You kill him?"

"As much as one can."

"He was in the bar that night, you saw him, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"Thought you left in a hurry. He came over and Jeanette talked to him at another table. Obviously it was private stuff, but talking to a Fallen isn't something you hide, you wear those connections on your sleeve. You know me, I've got a demon inside me and she needed something to show she could run in the same league."

"So she talked," Garrett said.

"Of course. Not everything, just enough to show she was working with him."

"Spit it out, Bobby," Jules commanded.

"She'd had some deal with him, doing some leg work and then something else had come up. He talked to some people that night and then got her to take on the work. Lead a team."

"That's all?" I asked.

"Pretty much. Something about spying on the watchmen, she got pretty cryptic when we tried to get more information. She wanted us to know, but she couldn't tell us, you know?"

"Not really," I shrugged. "No connections? Who was the Fallen?"

"Dunno. And if I did, that would still be my answer."

"Look at me, Bobby, I'm a mess and it was all for nothing."

He shrugged. He didn't care, he was paying off a favour. As I've pointed out before, he wasn't a very nice person.

"You think you're safe now?" Jules asked. "Now the Fallen is gone? It wasn't the boss, that's clear from what you've said."

"True. Jeanette's got to be dead by now, Geoff too. You were only chosen as bait because of the demon inside you. You think they were going to keep you alive much after they killed me?" I asked.

"I got a good chance now, thanks to you," he smiled a jokes-on-you kinda smile.

"I'm sure a Venator would like to wipe both of you off the face of the Earth. Shame we don't have one handy. Oh, wait," I smiled the same smile back at him.

He stood up. His eyes were dark and I knew that he was letting the demon out of its cage.

"Don't be foolish, Bobby," Jules warned him.

"Bobby's not at home right now, can I take a message?" the demon said in a gruff and crackly voice.

"Sorry, I have always wondered. Who are you exactly?" the Librarian asked.

'Bobby' looked at him with malice.

"Is this the time?" Garrett asked uneasily.

"Nope, but I've always kinda wondered that too," I said.

"You saved us, we paid back the debt, all is in balance and yet you talk of violence," the demon said.

"Fair point," man, chastised by a demon. "But the point still stands. You think you're safe?"

"And how will helping you help us?" it sneered.

"We're looking at taking down whoever it is that wants to silence you," I said.

It snorted a laugh and looked around at us.

"Look at you. So pathetic and yet so dangerous."

"And good looking."

"You're a man of your word, Harker, never thought that was a good quality, but it helps me out now, doesn't it? I've paid my due, I'm leaving and you won't stop me."

It was right. I stepped aside. It walked past me to Bruce who looked at me. I nodded and he moved away from the door.

"I'll give you one thing," it turned and said. "Because none of this is good for any of us. Ask your friend Pollus about Raymond Courts."

With that he left.

"Well that wasn't as useful as I'd hoped," I told the room.

"Who's this Courts guy?" Garrett asked.

"Dunno. Anyone?"

I looked around the room. Bruce shrugged and Adelaide shook her head.

"I can look into him back at my office," the Librarian offered.

"Good. Jules?"

"Nothing to me."

"You sure?"

"Back off, Harker."

"Come on, out of all of us you'd be the most likely to know."

"Well I don't. And that annoys me," she said.

"OK. Well I guess that's enough for today. Good work, team, I'll let you know what we find."

†

I sat slumped in my armchair at home with a bottle of whiskey. I didn't need it, not having lost blood, but I drank some anyway. It went straight to my head and I sat there in a daze. I think it was fair to say that it had been quite a day.

I had tried putting it all together, but to no real avail. Everything kept getting bigger, spiralling out away from me, and as it did more questions arose.

I'd set out to put straight a murder pinned on a voodoo temple and I hadn't managed to do that. Instead I'd found myself entangled in a much bigger battle, one I couldn't hope to stop, let alone win. And I didn't want to, I was too tired and beat up to want to carry on. Heck, if I'd ever wanted to get involved in stuff like this I would have taken the invite to join the Venators.

At odd times like this, and it was rare, I wondered if I would ever meet someone nice, settle down and raise a family. Could that still be in my future considering what I did? Do you get to leave a life like this? Surely you couldn't keep on a job like this with a family. Could I go and get a normal job? I dunno, I guess I'd have to meet someone to know that. Perhaps the real point was, could I let go of this life? Could I ever truly walk away from it? It's like a celebrity, a one hit wonder, do they go into normal jobs and live bitterly at what they had and lost? Would I ever be able to be 'normal' knowing what is out there? Would what is out there even let me leave and live peacefully? Could I bring a child into the world knowing so many demons hated me?

I was getting away from myself. The fact was I had started this to stop murders and that was what I had to do. That meant bracing Fairfax, either as a culprit or a lead. Either way it had to be done and either way, it was dangerous.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

I tried to get up the next morning, but my body told me no and I slept in late. When I awoke again my body was still protesting any kind of movement, but my mind wanted to get up and at 'em. Already it wanted to get to the Library and find out what the Librarian had learnt and I knew he would be mad that I had left him alone for so long without being able to share his new information. Still I laid there a little longer feeling every ache in every muscle. The fight with the Fallen had taken a huge toll on my body and I couldn't believe I had come out of it alive. Couldn't believe that I had won.

"Thanks, God," I whispered and smiled at the ceiling.

I dragged myself out of bed and into a long, hot shower before appraising my cuts and bruises in front of the mirror. My new skin colour was officially black and blue.

†

I found the Librarian looking through some ancient tome.

"I've been waiting for you," he said calmly.

"Sorry. A little sore this morning."

He nodded.

"I'm not surprised. I have a pot of coffee as well."

"You're the best," I grinned, but that hurt too.

He put the book away in a glass case and we walked to his office.

"Light reading?"

"The Candlewood Prophecies," he replied.

"Any good?"

He stopped and turned.

"You haven't read them?"

I shrugged slowly.

"Bits and bobs, someone told me some of them."

"That was me."

"Right. There you go then."

He shook his head and then continued on to the office. We sat either side of his desk after he poured us coffee each. He watched me lower myself gingerly into the chair.

"That bad?"

"Just sore. I'll be better as the day wears on, work out the kinks and knots."

"Jules was right. Defeating a Fallen is impressive."

"I didn't have much choice."

"Do you think Jules could have done it?"

I thought about it.

"Yeah."

"No," he shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Come on."

"She trains, she prepares. What you did was spur of the moment."

"It doesn't matter either way, does it?"

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"What about this Raymond Courts guy?"

"Hmm, yes. Interesting."

"In what way?"

"In no way."

"Is it me or are you not making sense?"

"There is information on him, but nothing to suggest him as a person of interest. At least not on the surface."

"OK, give me what you get on the surface."

"Sicko. Low level. Seems to be, or was, part of a supply ring."

"People?"

"Yes."

"Local or connected?"

"There's suggestion he's connected to human traffickers, but that could be bluff to make him look more connected than he is."

"But when you looked deeper?"

"Yes. There were a few leads. I won't bore you with how I chased them down, but I will tell you I worked late into the night and got up early this morning."

"If you're trying to make me feel bad, I know that both of those things were because you were too excited to sleep."

"Believe as you wish."

Which meant I was right.

"His name, or at least that which I believe to be his alias, comes up in connection with The Ghost."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

The Ghost was a near mythical figure. A trader in almost anything. If the stories were to be believed then most of what was in the Library would have passed through The Ghost's hands at one point. But he wasn't on our side, wasn't quite neutral as he had a definite tendency to the other side. He (or she) was called The Ghost because no one seemed to know who he was, or even to have met or seen him. It was believed by many that he didn't exist, that people were merely attaching his name to items to increase their perceived value, but others thought that was a foolish way to think.

"OK, the Box, the Codex and The Ghost, I can see that, but I can't see how that connects him to Fairfax. Or helps us in any way."

"No. Well maybe. It shows he's not a low level sicko, but wants people to think he is," the Librarian said.

"In a world where it pays to show you're connected to more powerful beings."

"I'm no detective, but wouldn't Bobby telling us to look into him suggest he's linked to Fairfax?"

"Not necessarily, but, yeah, it's a good bet. What you're telling me though means he won't be so easy to corner," I scratched my throat with the back of my fingers.

"Forewarned is forearmed."

"Yes," I nodded still in thought. "Thanks for that, we could have approached this all wrong if not for you."

"It's what I do."

"It is, isn't it? And you do it so well," I grinned at him. "Time to see what Pollus knows."

†

I called Garrett, but got no answer. I felt sorry for her, having to do this extra police work in her free time. Well, she didn't have to, but, well, maybe that was unfair. Could I have turned my back on it?

I called Bruce instead and picked him up. We drove to Pollus's little office.

"How you feeling?" Bruce asked as we drove.

"How about you? You got pretty banged up too."

"Just by sickos, not a Fallen."

"A beating's a beating if you ask me."

"It's taking longer to heal up," he admitted. "Muscles ache that bit longer, think I'm getting old."

"Aren't we all?"

"You'll still a young pup, Harker."

"Geez, thanks, Grandad."

He smiled to himself and that made me smile.

"Everyone needs someone, even The Man Who Walks Alone."

"I'm not alone now," I pointed out.

"You're not walking now," he pointed out.

"The Man Who Drives with a Passenger just doesn't have the same ring, does it?" I asked.

"Nope."

"We're here."

†

Pollus didn't seem overly surprised to find me leaning on his desk as he walked in.

"I didn't know anybody knew where I worked."

"You'd be surprised what I know."

"No. I don't think I would be."

"Sweet chilli sauce," I said.

"What?"

"Sweet chilli sauce, I know how to make it."

"Why are you here, Harker?" he asked pushing past me to his desk.

"Are you surprised?" I asked, but he just looked at me darkly.

I stood up and pulled up another chair. He seemed annoyed that I knew where his office was, but he was trying to hide it. It doesn't do for people to know where you work or live.

"Hey, at least I didn't sit in your chair," I smiled.

"What?" he asked sitting his small frame into a big office chair.

"I'm here about one Raymond Courts. I heard you might know something about him."

"From who?" he tensed a little.

"Relax. You're safe. I won't let harm come to you, Pollus, we're friends remember?"

He sniggered at that.

"Is that enough to keep me safe? Yes, perhaps so. Heard what you did, killed a Fallen in a fair fight."

"Things get exaggerated through the grapevine."

"Always so humble," he began to snicker and then his face fell.

Bruce was standing in the door.

"He's with me," I said. "Thought you might bolt for the door."

"Why do you think that?"

"Seems a lot of people don't like a visit from me," I shrugged.

"Yes, yes," he nodded. "First visit is bad luck, the second is trouble."

"They're my only friends. Wait. That's not really a saying is it?"

"I've heard it," Bruce confirmed.

"Well, one, it's not very nice and two this is only my first visit."

"Yes, true, but now I am one step closer to trouble," Pollus wrung his hands and looked genuinely worried by the idea.

"Raymond Courts. Why was I sent to you to find out more about him?"

"Are you sure this is your first visit?"

"Why?"

"Because Raymond Courts is trouble, Harker. Just talking about him to you."

"Now you're piquing my interest, Pollus."

"Forget it, Harker. Please."

He looked really uncomfortable now. Seriously worried.

"Why?"

"Heavy hitters, Harker. Big league," he squeaked.

"I just had a sword fight with a Fallen, remember?"

"Pah! There are Fallen and there are Fallen, Harker. You think angels that lusted after women are in the same league as ones that tried to overthrow God himself?"

"Some of those Grigori were high up angels. The leaders at least," Bruce said.

"Yes and where are they now? Locked in the pit. The leaders of the rebellion still roam the Earth. Please, Harker, you know all this."

"And how do you? Courts sells himself as a low level sicko. How do you know he isn't?"

He twisted his face up in a cross between annoyance and fear.

"Please, Harker," he beseeched.

"I'm aiming high, Pollus, I need to know."

"But you won't survive," he whined.

"So be it," I said firmly.

He sat back in his chair and was nearly engulfed by it. He played with his hands and looked at the ceiling before talking.

"I thought I had a bead on Phillippe's Box. There were some rumours it was in the city or very close by. I thought I'd have a look, no one notices old Pollus. Thought maybe I could take it from under their noses and sell it back to them.

"The best I had was on Courts so I followed him to see what he might know. Work out his angle before I worked on mine. He met some odd people, Harker, but all were traders so I knew I was on the right track with him. Then he started meeting with some heavier people; round about meetings so I knew they were meant to be secret. They went to a lot of trouble to stop people knowing they were meeting, but no one notices Pollus. Did my own detective work," he added a little proudly.

"Who?" I asked.

"I think he was trying to make contact with The Ghost, Harker. Or already had, this is a bad deal," he shrilled.

"Who?" I said again.

"Fairfax," Pollus said with more than a trace of fear. "It was short and the hardest trail to follow. I think Courts was working for him, or the other way around, but I couldn't find any concrete evidence. They went to a lot of work to hide the fact they met."

"Fairfax," I said.

"Gotcha," Bruce said.

"Oh, no, Harker," Pollus whined as he understood.

"I have to."

"Listen, Harker, and you Bruce, oh I know who you are. Listen to me. Some say Fairfax is an Avatar, some say he is a demon. Some even say he is possessed by the spirit of a Fallen, but he's none of those things, he's much worse."

"What then?" Bruce asked.

"He's human, Harker."

†

Before we left I got Pollus to tell me everything about his search for the Box and spent a few hours at the office putting it together. Where he had heard about it, why people thought it was in the city, who he had spoken to, anything that could be useful.

It was equal parts enlightening and frustrating. Pollus knew a lot and he seemed to think the Ghost was in town and that was pretty strong because usually, unless you were meeting with him, you didn't know. He had a rough idea when The Ghost had come to town too and it was, if he was right (and it was a big if), after the Box had surfaced. He'd heard that the Box had been touted, but it was low-key; something like that you didn't want just anyone finding out about.

It was frustrating because Pollus knew so little and he usually knew so much. But that, in itself, told me something. I've said that the problem we had was that we were coming in in the middle of something, but every time I'd tried to go back the start I got nowhere. This was why. The problem wasn't that we came in late, but that the start of this was way out of our league. Some very serious people were doing some very serious dealing and that's why Farouq and the Librarian hadn't heard anything. We were a tiny part of something much larger, something we couldn't comprehend.

Garrett finally returned my call and I filled her in. I asked if she wanted to grab a bite to eat, talk in person, but she said she only wanted a shower and some sleep. Hard day at the office.

And so I sat in my chair at home and thought about the ride home.

"What did he mean? About being human?" Bruce asked.

"Fairfax is high up, everyone knows that, but it seems he's not only in league with Fallen, but in charge of them. How evil do you have to be before Fallen angels and demons take orders from you?

"We're not talking rape or murder or fraud or theft, we're talking angels who looked God in the face and defied Him. What do you have to do for them to think you're one of them?"

"Why do we do it? Why are we bad?" Bruce mused to the ceiling.

"1 Timothy 6:10," I said.

"For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows."

"And what is the love of money? Greed. It's behind pretty much every sin we commit."

People, unlike demons and the Fallen, were not inherently evil. We all have good in us. Christians are not necessarily nice people and non-Christians are not necessarily bad. Christians don't have the monopoly on charity or volunteer work. In some ways we can be even more legalistic and judgemental. There's long been this confusion by both Christians and non-Christians that we think they are bad because they're not Christians. That's not it, we just think they've got it wrong, that they're missing out on something wonderful. It doesn't, I can admit, always come across that way though.

For Fairfax to hold the position that he seemed to, then he was a human who had rid his soul of all good, all mercy or kindness. Or he was being played like a puppet on a string.

I got up to get a glass of whiskey, but went to bed instead.
CHAPTER FORTY

I sat in my office for most of the morning doing nothing. Just staring into the middle distance and thinking. Kinda mixing work and pleasure. Things had gotten well and truly out of hand, but considering I had first heard of the Box and Codex by accident, I had to think that my involvement had been planned from the start. Why would God want me to go after Fairfax? Or maybe He didn't, maybe He wanted me to just find the Box before anyone else. No, everything led to Fairfax, I had to assume that was the endgame unless I was told otherwise.

This stuff with The Ghost had come out late in the game and I couldn't see myself being able to follow it without interruption. You don't send a Fallen to the abyss without attracting attention. It was three now, Adelaide had dispatched two while I was captured by Streep.

You had to wonder about that woman, I know they had been caught by surprise, but she still managed to kill two Fallen without any trouble. I had a general idea of who she was before she was my secretary, but it seemed obvious that she was a lot more than that.

Still, The Ghost and the Box. No wonder it hadn't popped up on the Librarian's radar. Could it be that the Box really had been in the city? Or still was? That this hadn't just been a wild goose chase? I had long ago come to the conclusion that rumours of the Box and Codex were spread by the Venators to see who would come out of the woodwork for them, but now it seemed that they might have been true. If they were true then maybe the Venators had a bead on The Ghost, but they wouldn't tell me if they had. It was too big for me, I had to focus on my part in it all. Stopping murders.

So it came back to Fairfax. The Venators had brought him in, no, he had gone to the Venators, either way maybe he knew of the lead on The Ghost. That told me that the Venators might have a hand in the deal, but Fairfax didn't. Someone was, maybe (big maybe) selling the Box and the Venators were helping. Fairfax wanted the Box, but was going to take it by force rather than buying it. But why? Because the buyer was The Ghost? It was a one-on-one trade, not an open sell. If that were true I had to wonder what The Ghost had that made it worth it. Did the Venators know or were they, like me, being used?

My mind jumped to Jules, I wondered if she would join us in going after Fairfax; I wondered if it was fair to ask anyone to join me. It was dangerous and nothing like anything we'd done before. Garrett in particular. Though she was one of the better trained for this sort of thing, it seemed weird to ask her to risk life and limb for something she didn't even believe in. It was like being asked to fight for a country you'd never even been to. Yet I knew she wouldn't say no and I knew she'd be angry with me if I just went ahead without her. She wanted to see this finished, she wanted to see an end to the murders.

And that was it. Fairfax was murdering people in search for the Box, but it hadn't worked, which again told me just how high up this was. Whoever had it could protect it. But Courts was linked to the Ghost which meant Fairfax was too and that meant he would get a bead on Phillipe' Box as soon as the deal went down. I had to admit, Fairfax had guts if he was going to hijack The Ghost. I was here to stop murders and I didn't like the idea of what Fairfax might have planned if he was going to hijack the sale. It would be messy and was no doubt a last resort.

And then, what did Fairfax want the Box for? Nothing that I had heard of it told me a good reason. Except for the coup, the idea of freeing angels, but how would that serve Fairfax?

And what about this coup? My mind bounced once again. I hadn't heard anything about it, nor had I investigated into it. Should I have done? Should I have made that my investigation? No, I couldn't have known I'd get dragged into anything more than a bunch of people making seals. Or I should have known, should have accepted, that this was all much bigger once Jules had come in with Fairfax and started talking coups.

"You've been in here for hours. In silence. It bothers me," Adelaide said from the door.

"Huh?" I huhhed looking up. "Oh, right. Just thinking."

"It's a dangerous pastime," she noted.

"Less dangerous than what I'm thinking about doing."

She walked over and sat in the chair at my desk.

"Still Fairfax."

"Yeah. I reckon he's the source of all my answers."

She nodded. "Dangerous indeed."

"Indeed," I agreed (for I am a poet).

"How will you do it?"

"Dangerous to try and catch him at a bar. I think I should avoid them for a while."

"I think that's wise," she said with a little smile.

"So that leaves making an appointment."

"Which he wouldn't accept. He's onto you, trying to get rid of you. He'll be wary, scared even, after you took down that Fallen."

"You've taken down more than me."

"Never in a spontaneous fight like that. If you're going to go after Fairfax you can't sell yourself short, Harker."

"You think I can do this? Because I'm not so sure," I admitted.

"Yes. Yes, I think you can do this. I told you I came to work for you for a reason."

"To sit around and not do much?"

"Pretty much."

I made a thinking face.

"Seems fair."

"I decided after that first time we met that someone needed to look after you, Harker. Someone needed to push you when you needed to be pushed. Now is one of those times."

I made another face.

"Can I fire you?"

"No."

"Didn't think so," I sat in silence for a minute. "I'm scared."

"Good."

"Gee, thanks."

"You should be scared. You think Jules isn't scared?"

"I am," she said from the door.

"Weirdly serendipitous timing," I commented.

"I wanted to talk."

Adelaide got up.

"No, stay," I said.

She looked at me and I could see she didn't want to as she stepped away from the chair, but didn't leave.

"Sit down, Julia," she said.

Jules walked up to the chair and gave her a look of disdain, but sat down anyway.

"He'll be ready for us," she said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "You think he'll put on a spread? Mini sausage rolls and stuff? I like them."

"Stop it, Harker," Adelaide warned me.

"Alright, alright. Yes. He will be, but we have to move on him before he moves on us."

"Why are you doing this?" Jules asked suddenly.

"Dunno."

"Harker," Adelaide warned.

"I honestly don't," I argued. "It's just where we've got to, isn't it?"

"That's not a good enough reason," Jules said.

"No, it's not. But everything points to him being the centre. He was looking for the Box and Codex, it's been his Henchmen that have been murdering people, his Henchmen that killed the person that got me involved in the first place. It was he that came to you and then you came to me about this coup."

"You don't have proof that any of these people are or were working for him," Jules countered.

"Why are you sticking up for him?" I fired at her.

"I'm not," she fired back at me. "I'm sticking up for you. I don't want you to go running into something like this unless you're sure."

"Tell me about Charles Underdown, Aimee Peter's boyfriend."

"No, Harker."

"Tell him," Adelaide commanded.

"He was a Venator, wasn't he?"

"Still is," she affirmed.

"Not supposed to have relationships," I said.

"No. And he paid the price for it."

"Why? Why'd they think you had the Box?"

"They didn't. He thought he had a bead on it, made it clear to potential buyers," she said.

I knew this, Aimee's friend, Michelle, had told me as much.

"And?"

"And what?"

"And you said he's still a Venator, you must have questioned him," Adelaide said.

"Yes. The Ghost came up and that was about it. He couldn't give us anything much more than that."

"And he's still a Venator?" Adelaide asked with surprise.

"He messed up and paid a high price for it. We're Christians, we forgive," Jules said sternly.

"And you can't believe that..." I started.

"That Fairfax wasn't mixed up in it?" Jules finished. "I have no evidence. The Venators can't go after him without something. Do I trust him? No. Do I think this Box you're so obsessed with has anything to do with anything? No."

I shook my head.

"No. Fairfax is killing to find the Box. Fairfax came to you guys because he'd heard you knew where it was. Underdown was a lucky break for him. You don't get to come here and lie to me. Not now. If there is a coup then Fairfax believes having the Box will unlock it. Give him access to beyond the Pit."

"The Great Detective," she replied po-faced.

I sighed and stared at the ceiling. There wasn't any point asking who she was working for. If she knew she wouldn't tell me. If I was right, then this was bigger than even the Venators. Not hard to play to their egos to get them to do a task, but it would have to be someone special for them to follow.

Bigger.

Think big.

I sighed mentally.

"Harker?" Jules snapped and I looked at her.

"What?"

"Listen. I telling you that you still need evidence before you go for him. Postulate what you like about boxes, books and even us, but you take Fairfax down and we can't back you up then you'll be Judged.

"Well I've got enough to go after him," I said grimly.

"Then I'll have your back. When all is said and done, we'll make sure the facts are known and that you are not deserving of Judgement and Vengeance," Jules said.

Then she stood and looked at Adelaide. They stared at each other for a moment and then Jules was gone.

"Do you believe her?" Adelaide asked.

"Doesn't matter. She only came to show that she would come, but not be held accountable. Nothing's changed, I still need to talk with Fairfax."

"What do you hope to learn?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "That's why I need to confront him."

†

I went out for lunch and walked it off for an hour or so, long enough to get hungry again. It was quite a pleasant day, warm for the time of year, as I sat outside of a little café and drank a coffee and ate a sandwich. Rain and a cold front were predicted for the evening so people were out making the most of it while it lasted.

So many people in this city alone, most of them believing the idea of a God or spiritual beings silly. A number would tell you only idiots believed in such things; the weak minded or those that needed a crutch to get through life. It was generally believed that science had proven somehow that God didn't exist and most people were happy with that. Science worked with facts, it could be tested, so it must be right. The real fact was that most people who took on this idea knew little to nothing about either religion or science. And they didn't want to know, they just wanted to live their lives as they wanted, not be told how to, or live under some perceived judgement.

To be fair to them, we Christians can get bogged down in the rules and the 'thou shalt nots'. We pick fights that aren't important, we judge others despite the Bible telling us 'judge not lest you be judged'. We pick and choose the bits of the Bible we want to follow at any given time. We seem to forget the whole 'love your neighbour' thing quite a lot.

Still I found it strange, being in the profession I was, that all these people had no idea of what was going on around them. I'd seen two Avatars and a number of sickos in the short time I had sat there, I had seen three people who I knew by their faces, were suffering from some kind on 'haunting'. There's a certain look, mainly fear, but mixed with incredulity and rational explanations.

I put down the last of my sandwich, I wasn't looking for curly hair anyway, and finished off my coffee. I couldn't remember what it was like to be one of those people, people with a subjective rather than objective right and wrong. The thing I heard most from clients was that 'if they weren't hurting others, then it was OK, wasn't it?'. People wanted to be assured that they were the good guys. It was, I guess, generally true. Most people weren't consciously bad to others, most tried their best to be good, or at least nice, to others. Nothing wrong with that. The whole thing with Christianity wasn't that people were bad and we were good, but that we were called to a higher morality, one which ultimately led to a truer happiness.

I was taking up a table that others were eyeing so it wasn't until I was back at the office that I continued my thoughts. I thought again on how I had stopped being one of those ignorant and blissful people to one who walked the dark valley of the wolves.

It started, I could now see, much earlier in life. I had come into some money and decided to use it to travel while I was still young and single. I was only supposed to go away for six months to a year and ended up being out and about for three. Quite the educational time, I can tell you. I look back and can see how God sculpted me through those experiences and challenges, taught me about the World and life. I saw great riches and extreme poverty; I began to understand how different cultures saw the world and civilisation. I saw places where so called civilisation had not been adopted and they were quite happy. I saw cultures that had been ruined by Western civilisation.

But what I had seen more than anything was the human heart, human spirit. I had made friends everywhere I had been and had found us all to be the same. That included the bad stuff too. I saw people just doing their best to get along and make the most of what the world had to offer. It didn't really seem to matter who you were, where you lived or how much money you had. You were still just doing your best, learning as you went along. You couldn't blame people for not believing in a religion, there wasn't a handbook or roadmap to life that told you what was important and what wasn't. For many people life was OK or hard enough on it's own without throwing spiritual beings in there too.

Except there was a handbook, the Bible, and it led to a happier, fuller life. It led to a relationship with not just an all-powerful being, but one that loves you and has a plan for your life.

And that was why it was so important to face down people like Fairfax. They didn't care about normal people, they didn't care about saving or destroying lives, they cared only about themselves and they would see the World burn, see Heaven burn, to get what they wanted. It was like Fairfax had said about the coup, 'good for no one'. But of course, people like Fairfax didn't care about anyone else. I should have picked up on that then, back when they first came to me. I was starting to understand the sarcastic references to being a great detective, I was missing everything.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

We met at the library once the ground work was done. It hadn't been easy, we'd had to lie low, or at least seem to. Fairfax was trying to get rid of us because we were pushing too hard, too far, so it was time to stop pushing.

I began accepting clients again and spent a week tracking down the culprits of some satanic-esque graffiti. 'The King is Imminent' with this symbol:

It was two teenagers who folded as soon as the police were mentioned. Not actually satanic at all, not as far as I knew, but to some people any weird symbol was satanic, including Asian and Arabic script.

In this time there were two murders that Garrett could now see as similar to those that had brought us into this. Fairfax, if I was right, was still looking for the Box through the Black Magics. It had to be close. Had to be here, I thought one night, for him to be so eager in his looking, but I didn't have time to think on it. I had to concentrate on getting to him.

We weren't the only ones to lie low. Fairfax hadn't been seen in public since about the time I had fought with the Fallen. We couldn't go around asking or interrogating people; that would tip him off. Not that anyone would talk to us anyway. Even Pollus had declined to meet up with me. Seems we were too hot; no one wanted to risk getting on Fairfax's hitlist.

So we did it the old fashioned way; we banked on him being in his offices and we staked them out. Garrett managed to get her hands on blueprints for the building and shook up what security info she could.

The night before we met I got my expected visit.

"Comfortable?" I asked him.

"The springs are going," Michael replied from my armchair.

"I hadn't noticed."

"You will in about a month. Buy a new one now."

"I like my chair," I emphasised the 'my', but he ignored me.

I sat on the two seater sofa. I felt bad for the other chair, but I couldn't move now, it'd look weird.

"So," I said.

"Yes," he replied.

"I love our talks. So enlightening."

"You are on dangerous ground," he said.

"Really? Because if you hadn't told me..."

"Yes, yes," the archangel said testily.

Things must be bad.

"What is it?"

"Skirmishes."

"Oh," was all I had.

I didn't really understand warfare in Heaven. Mostly because I didn't really have an idea what Heaven was. In church it came across as small, just a throne room maybe, but when you considered how many angels were there you had to guess it was more Earth-like, at least in size. It was hard to know what was metaphor or poetic and what was factual. The Bible talked about a city, did angels and the Saved live in cities just like they did on Earth? Did they work? What did they fill their time with? And if there was war between the angels as told in Revelation, could they die? And if they couldn't then could anyone actually win? My brain, my imagination, was too small for such things.

"But you," Michael said. "You walk a dangerous path."

"It's why you pay me the big bucks," I tried a shrug.

"You are going after Fairfax."

"You know him?"

"He is known to us, yes. Full of evil, his pride is boundless."

"He is well connected?"

"Yes. Many follow him, many more than you might know. But he is human, he is flawed by sin."

"As am I."

He looked at me, straight in the eye and I had to look away. His eyes burned bright with righteous anger and pity. Not pity for me, but pity for all that had turned away from the Almighty. Perhaps pity for himself; that he had to be the leader of an army; that such a thing should exist in Perfection.

"You are an idiot, yes. But that is partly because you refuse to see the righteousness of your own heart. Everything you do, both right and wrong, is because you want to do the right thing."

"Only partly?"

"And partly because you are too proud to admit you are not as bad as you think and come before the Throne at His invitation. Proverbs 16: 18, Harker. You would be well to remember it."

And with that he was gone. As if he had never been there. The brain can't process the appearance or disappearance of an angel, there is no slow fade, no there and then gone, it is faster and more complete than a bubble bursting.

†

And so I found myself in the Library with the little group I had grown around me. And they said I walked alone. Seriously, they should see this. Actual real people hanging out with me.

"What do we have?" the Librarian asked. "Enough?"

"I don't think so," Garrett said.

"I agree," Jules agreed.

"But it's gonna have to be," Garrett added. "This has to stop."

"There is no this," Jules retorted.

"Innocent people dead," Garrett said forcefully.

"Innocent people die every day, officer, it doesn't mean you attack the first suspect you come across."

They glared at each other for seemed like an eternity.

"No, you're right," Garrett broke her eyes. "But I'm not playing by my rules. Not by the rules of this country, not even this world. Now I'm playing by your rules."

Jules looked away, with nothing to say.

"OK," I said brightly. "Either way we're going to go and talk to Fairfax and either way you're coming with us, Jules."

"What if I say no?"

"You don't get to say no," I said seriously and she knew what I meant.

She didn't get to use me with no payback.

"We're playing into his hands. We attack his offices and he gets to wipe us out with a legitimate reason. You're giving him what he wants," Jules said.

"Then you better not get caught," the Librarian noted.

"Suffice to say he's declined to join us," I pointed out helpfully.

"Oh, so he gets to choose, does he?" Jules asked.

"He's not as good in a gun fight as you, Jules. Tends to run away and hide or get distracted by a book."

"I can hold my own," he indignated. Also a new one for the dictionary.

Is anyone noting these down?

"Fine," Jules huffed.

"So what do we have?" Bruce asked, getting us back on track.

"He's staying in his office suite. Not entirely unheard of," the Librarian said. "It takes up one whole floor and is said to contain living quarters."

"Jules?" I asked.

"I've never been there, I wouldn't want to."

"The blueprints are sketchy, looks like they've been tampered with to hide that floor," Garrett said.

"Yes," the Librarian agreed.

"What I can tell you is that you can only reach that floor by lift," Jules said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, that's the information I have too," Garrett said.

"No fire escape?" I asked.

Jules laughed.

"If they were afraid of fire they wouldn't be doing what they're doing."

"Fair point," I smiled. I assumed it was a joke; you couldn't always be sure with Jules.

"I managed to get a look in," the Librarian said.

"You did?" I asked with surprise. "I mean, you did?" I asked sans surprise.

"I considered that I was the least recognisable one."

"Well, yeah, no one expects you to leave this building," I said.

"There are a number of businesses in the building and in amongst the people to-ing and fro-ing I spotted a number of sickos and one Avatar. Security, no doubt."

"And there'd be others. Just normal humans," Garrett said.

"Yes," the Librarian agreed. "Building security plus the security team we know he hires. I don't believe they have access to his office suite though."

"We'd be spotted straight away," Bruce said.

"Yeah," I scratched my throat with the backs of my fingers.

"Well there we go then," Jules said and stood. "At least we've learned one thing, Fairfax's offices are impregnable. Useful to know, thank you, Harker."

"He can't stay in there forever," Bruce said.

"He could," the Librarian replied.

"Not much fun, but yeah, he could run operations from there."

"We can't wait for him to get bored," Garrett said.

"No, we couldn't corner him in a bar anyway. Not after what we've done recently," I agreed.

"So it's over," Jules said.

"We could corner him somewhere else," I said.

"But like you said, he won't be coming out for a while."

"He would if he had something worthwhile to come out for."

"Like the Box," the Librarian said.

"Exactly."

"But you don't have the Box," Jules said.

"So?"

"So he'll know that."

"So we get the stupid box," Garrett said with frustration and Jules laughed.

"It's not so funny, it's here, it's close," I said.

She looked at me closely and then shook her head.

"You know I think you're an idiot, Harker; you know I think you're barking up the wrong tree, but you've helped me out in the past so here's a tip, OK? You want to stop the murders, you think it's Fairfax? Focus on him. Trying to find a mythical box will set you back and in that time more murders will occur."

"You do think it's him then?" the Librarian asked.

"No. But Fairfax and murder doesn't exactly surprise me."

"We'll need your help luring him out. You told me to let you both know if I knew something about the coup, right?"

"Right," she sighed.

"Cool," I grinned.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

"Hi," I said.

"Oh, hi," Annie smiled with surprise.

She seemed genuinely pleased to see me. Which was weird. That saying about two visits equalling trouble passed through my mind and I hoped it wasn't true.

"You said you wanted to help."

Her smile dropped and her face became serious.

"Yes. I do."

"Then I need that book. By Drachen."

"Why?"

I'd weighed up how much to tell her and had decided on honesty. It was her book, if she wouldn't give it to me for the reasons I needed it then so be it. I wouldn't trick her into it.

"Lure someone out."

"The woman who came here?"

"Her boss."

"Who"

I shook my head.

"Doesn't matter. Here's what does. In your line of work you've heard of The Ghost."

"That's her boss?" she asked with shock.

"No," I held up my hands as if to placate her. "But I want to find him. Or her. It?"

She looked at me deeply.

"Come through to the back."

She locked the door and then followed me through. She made tea while I waited and I knew she was doing it partly to get her thoughts in order. From what I knew of her she would want to ask the right questions, get all the information out of me that she could before I blocked her.

"Yes, of course I know of him," she said handing me a cup of tea.

We both sat on sofas so we could face each other.

"According to Grandfather he is a he. The Ghost, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"Father met him. Or so he said. Oh, I know that he isn't meant to be real."

"Who knows? Different people say different things."

"I can tell you one story."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"I'd like to hear it."

"Do we have time?"

"Always time for a story," I smiled.

"You've heard of the Candlewood Prophecies?"

"They've come up."

"Dad went looking for one that was rumoured to have surfaced. Missing from the other books. He started in the United States, Texas, I think, but it was in New Orleans that he first came across The Ghost, or someone who worked for him. A Local. He ended up in a local Hounfour, that's..."

"A Voodoo temple, yeah, I know," I smiled.

"Of course, of course," she blushed.

"Continue with your story."

"Right. They said that the prophecy had been in the city, but a man had come looking for it, a bad man. The Houngan wasn't sure why the prophecy had come to the city, a deal he thought, but this man had put a stop to that.

"It was in a bar later that night that a man came and joined my Father at the bar and talked antiquities with him, old books and the occult. Feeling him out, my Father would say later.

"My Father chased the prophecy back through Texas and down into Mexico. From there into Colombia before he got close to the prophecy. This man, he followed Father every step of the way, but Father was always one step ahead, always got the information before this other man.

"He knew it couldn't last though, one mistake and this man could get ahead of him. So he took a risk, he knew that the man was following him, perhaps hoping to just take the prize from him in the end. He went in the opposite direction to where he believed the Prophecy was. He arrived there and waited 'til night before driving all the way back again.

"It worked, he lost the man and got the prophecy, I have it here in the vault. It was on the long journey back that he met The Ghost. He came and sat with him in a booth in a dingy bar. I know the conversation, according to Grandfather, off by heart, but let me just tell you this. The Ghost threatened to, but didn't kill Father. He could have taken the prophecy, and Father told him he could come and read it anytime he liked. He laughed at that. He didn't take it because he deemed my Father a worthy rival. He liked that. That was what brought him out, to meet a worthy foe before disappearing again."

"I think Phillippe's Box is in the city. I think either he's brought it or he's here to buy it. I need a decent enough reason for people to think I'm a worthy foe, Annie."

"The code."

"Right."

"I don't get the link; though I think I should."

"Travel. They're all about travel. I think the Theorem and the Box are linked, at least in broad enough terms to get people interested."

She looked at me and you could see her mind working behind her eyes. Her head began nodding slightly as she thought and then my phone rang.

Serendipity of the type that makes you suspect there's someone out there pulling the strings.

"I think I've done it," the Librarian said excitedly.

"Good. Good for you."

"You don't even know what."

"No, you haven't told me."

"What you said. About parables being up our street," he was almost breathless with excitement. "Are you with Bulson?"

"His granddaughter, yeah."

"Annaleigh, yes. Bring her with you."

"What is all this?"

"Parables, philosophies, mathematics," he fired off before hanging up.

I was aware that he was trying not to say too much over an open line, even though our phones were supposed to be encrypted. Perhaps not, I'd rarely heard him so excited, maybe he just couldn't string a sentence together. I had to say, I was contrigued.

"We have to go see the Librarian."

"What about?"

"Are you going to bring that book?"

"Yes. OK. What about?"

"Cracking Centaine's Last Theorem."
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

We walked through the aisles of what can only be accurately described as stuff. Annie of course stopped at the bookshelves to read the spines forcing me to look at the shrunken head of a witch doctor. According to the Librarian he had turned his tribe against a group of missionaries visiting a neighbouring tribe. It turned out that they were administering medicine and the witch doctor was scared of losing his position of power. When the tribe realised this they turned on him.

"Lot of dangerous books here," Annie commented.

"More dangerous than your collection?"

She thought about that.

"Yeah. Mine is bigger, but more general, this is more like keeping books out of circulation. He has a copy of Bardot's Grimoire. I don't know of another copy. Muhleisen's Book of the Dead, the full book by the width of the spine."

"Full book?"

"Even I only have the Shadow Chapters, and that's seen as rare," she was truly impressed.

Before we got to the office she stopped to look at a painting.

"Ratner's 'Battle in the Jezreel Valley'," the Librarian said.

"A battle of the Venators in the crusades painted to reflect the victory of Gideon and the Israelites over the Midianites."

"I'm impressed," the Librarian smiled.

"I learned a lot from my grandfather," she said.

"As did I," he admitted. "He was a great man and I mourned his passing."

"Thank you," she looked to the floor.

"I hate to be that guy, but..." I said, hating to be that guy.

"Yes. Right. Come to my office."

We sat either side of his desk and he tapped on his computer.

"You seemed pretty excited on the phone," I said to him. "He rarely does 'excited'," I notified Annie.

"Sombre befits our vocation," she informed me.

"Right," I said as sombrely as I could.

"It was what you said, about parables being up our street," the Librarian said looking up at me. "It got me thinking and I took the time to review some of the Theorem with that in mind."

"I'm sorry, I feel like I've come in half way through a conversation," Annie said.

"So do I," I lamented.

"I was telling Harker about the Theorem, about how it is all philosophy and parable and he commented that it was right up our alley. I'd never thought of it like that, I don't think anyone has. Linking the Theorem back to the Bible, back to the Evangelion."

"He means the Gospels."

"I know what the Evangelion are."

"I didn't," I frowned.

"There's one, just one so far, that I think I've cracked," the Librarian went on, ignoring my interruption.

"Am I going to understand this?" I asked.

"No," he replied bluntly.

"Can you give me some kind of summary that I'll understand?"

"Yes. I think so. There's a mathematical problem laid out in the book and I've linked it to the Parable of the Sower in Matthew 13."

"How so?" Annie asked.

"You can link each of the places the seeds fall with one of the equations Centaine is talking about. So..."

I have to admit I zoned out not long afterwards. I didn't understand what he was talking about, though Annie seemed to by her nods and sounds of agreement. I thought instead about what I was going to try and do. I needed to get to Raymond Courts. If he was working for Fairfax then he could spill the beans on the whole operation. And if that meant exposing Fairfax as a traitor? Well he would have to come and silence Courts.

The problem was finding Courts, we were going to have to lure him out, but that meant having a bead on The Ghost. If Courts thought The Ghost had the Box then we couldn't pretend we did. We needed to be competition to be dealt with, a worthy foe to interest The Ghost.

Unless he didn't have it. It could be that The Ghost had been lured here by the promise of the Box. He too could be looking to buy it. If that was true then we would need to fool both him and Courts into thinking we had a bead on it.

I realised the room was silent and looked up to find Annie and the Librarian looking at me.

"Really? Interesting," I nodded in an informed manner.

"You weren't listening, were you?" he asked crossly.

"Well, I asked you for a summary I could understand, I didn't understand the first sentence of all of that," I gave him my best 'poor puppy' face.

"Don't give me the 'poor puppy' face," he said so I dropped it. The face, not the puppy.

"In short the parable was the key to understanding it. Now it doesn't make complete sense on its own, but it seems to be talking about levels. Levels of Maths, but perhaps also levels of understanding. Maybe it's even talking about levels in a physical sense."

"Ahh. 'Therefore speak I to them in parables: because they seeing see not; and hearing they hear not, neither do they understand'," I quoted verse 13.

"What?" he asked. "Yes. ' And in them is fulfilled the prophecy of Esaias, which says, By hearing you shall hear, and shall not understand; and seeing you shall see, and shall not perceive: For this people's heart is waxed gross, and their ears are dull of hearing, and their eyes they have closed; lest at any time they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears, and should understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them'."

He thought about it.

"I need to work," he said seriously.

"What?" I asked.

"Go," he said.

I looked at Annie who looked at me with perplexion.

"He gets like this," I shrugged.

"You're still here," he said, now looking at his monitors and tapping away on the keyboard.

"Off we go."

We got up and walked to the door.

"Harker?" he called.

"Yeah?"

"You want to lure certain people out of the dark and into the light? This could be your bait."

I nodded to him and he nodded back before returning to his monitor.

†

Back at my office and Adelaide actually looked up as we came in. In fact you could see her burning desire to follow us into the office and find out who this girl was. I wasn't going to give her that pleasure and said nothing as I walked past. Annie however:

"Hi there."

"Hello."

"Annie," she extended a hand.

Adelaide looked at it. There was a pulse before Annie retracted the hand.

"Bulson," I said.

"Really?" with renewed interest.

"Really. Come on," we walked through to my office.

I showed her to the sofas so that we could go through the book together.

"So what's in it that's helpful to us?" I asked.

"OK," she opened the book on the coffee table and started flipping back and forth. "Here's a good start."

The book told of the Box's reappearance in Constantinople. Reappearance because it is assumed that the Box was created in Christian Europe and therefore had passed from there over to the East. From there it made an appearance in Egypt and then Italy before disappearing again.

"This is great, but not helpful," I frowned.

"OK, how about this?" she flicked through more pages and then sat back.

This stuff was about the Codex. This had allegedly gone the other way around the World; mentioned as having been in England it was next seen in Romania with some suggestion it had turned up in Switzerland. It too travelled through Constantinople.

"About the same time," I said.

"Yes," she smiled. "It's thought that this was when Centaine had them both."

"Had them both?"

"What do you know about the code?"

I thought about how close to nothing I knew of it and settled on: "nothing."

"Right. Well here's the code," she flipped through the book again.

It was a block of numbers and letters, most of which were English, some Arabic, and some were runes. It was seven lines long.

"Now this is where Conslow got it wrong. Firstly he just copied the seven lines, but there are those, myself included, that think the paragraph above and below it are part of the code as well. Secondly, Conslow linked the code to the Box, but in Drachen's book it seems to be more clearly linked to the Codex."

"What difference does that make?"

"The reason the Last Theorem is uncrackable is the same reason for the code. And for the Box. They rely on each other. The Last Theorem was written, they think, when Centaine had the Box and the Codex together, you can't understand it without them. The code can't be cracked without the Theorem and that can't be cracked without the Box which can't be cracked without the code. Except it's the Codex that the code cracks. Getting the Box won't help."

"Hang on, hang on. You're saying that the Theorem cracks the code which cracks the Codex which cracks the Box?"

"Exactly."

"But you can't crack the Theorem without the Box."

"Or the Codex."

"Confusing."

"But the Codex is the key. The Codex should give you enough new insight to see the Theorem in a new light, a better understanding."

"And from there you could, maybe, understand enough to crack the code which would, what exactly?" my brain was beginning to hurt.

"Centaine's Theorem isn't about the Box, or the Codex, it's much bigger than that. Have you read it?"

"Nope," I said proudly.

"It's big, Harker. The Box and the Codex were just parts of it; they helped her put the puzzle together. The Codex is the same. It was originally thought that the code would help crack the Theorem, but when no one could they started to think that it would tell you which part of the Theorem would help you crack the Box.

"For ever, people have wanted to open that stupid Box. When it didn't lead them to how to crack the Box they thought that it might open the Box. What they all missed was the idea that the code shows you the parts of the Codex that are needed to open the Box."

"This is way over my head."

"And it doesn't matter," she smiled. "What matters is that we know what we're doing, that we have enough information to put out there to make us look interesting."

"And, I'm sorry, but do we have that? What do we have?"

"We know that we're not looking to crack the Box, we just need it to put enough of the Theorem in the right light to begin cracking the code which in turn will help us crack more of the Theorem which will show us which parts of the Codex we need to crack the Box."

"And that's good is it?"

She smiled again.

"Trust me."
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

It all started two days later. Before it did I went back to the Librarian to find out what he knew.

"How's it going?"

"Slowly, but I'm getting somewhere," he said from behind his desk.

"Really?"

"You seem surprised."

"Well. Yeah. I thought this was all super difficult."

"What are you implying?"

"Funny. What I mean is if we're doing this now..."

"We?"

"You're doing this now, why hasn't anyone done it before?"

"No one's tried. It was obvious that we couldn't work out the Theorem, like I told you, we're missing the knowledge, so most gave up."

"Most?"

"Look," he said with 'the little irritation'. That's when he acts annoyed at my lack of knowledge, but actually enjoys being able to school me. "You don't seem to realise what a niche market you've found yourself in. This is high level stuff. You're not finding these guys in those bars you keep fighting in. This is serious stuff. Heaven burning stuff."

"OK."

He slammed his palm on the desk.

"It's not OK. This is serious; this is getting close to the Snake. This is the War, and these are serious people involved. Dangerous people, Harker. Very dangerous."

I just stared at him and he deflated.

"I'm sorry."

"No, I should be apologising."

"You can be so annoying sometimes."

"I've heard that."

"There you go again. I worry, OK? That you don't take these things seriously."

"I do."

"I know you do, but I worry."

"So what have you got?"

"It's aggravating. Every time I think I'm getting somewhere I hit a wall. Even with the information from Annaleigh. Do you know of the Pindarian Nightmare?"

"No."

"No. Neither do I, but Centaine mentions it a lot. I've looked and looked, but I cannot find a single reference to it. She had knowledge of things we can't comprehend and without that knowledge we can't understand her writing."

"Well let's be positive. What have you got?"

"This, perhaps, will be of the most help to you. It is a passage about the Codex and the Box. She says: 'Alone this means nothing, there is nothing on this plane that can be used as a measure against it, except the Box, but this does not tell us enough unless we can understand the Travels of Solomon. For he broke the chains of darkness that bind it, having his father's prayer as he walked through the valley of the shadow of death. But, of course, he knew not of the Box; that came later. It is only through the Box and what it tells that we can truly understand the Codex. It is this understanding that sheds light on Zhao's equation and the Pindarian Nightmare that it suggests. Looking at the equation thusly we see...'" he trailed off. "And then it goes back into the realms of the unknown."

"That's still good, that's enough. Get that to Annie."

And I also had another meeting.

†

"Right on time," I said from behind my desk.

"I told you I would come if you called," the Exorcist replied.

I stood as he reached the desk and took a seat.

"We could go and sit on the sofas, more comfortable."

"I'm quite comfortable here."

"You're not," I said sitting. "And you know it."

"It is by the by," he replied lowering his hood.

"Don't you get looks in the street dressed like that?" I asked.

"People tend not to notice me."

"That's quite a feat."

"Why am I here?"

"Adelaide thought you might get lonely."

"You are sent by God to try my patience."

"I'll try anything once," I said.

"Thou shalt not murder," he said.

"What?"

"Just reminding myself," he lamented.

"I want Phillippe's Box and I want you to let your friend The Ghost know it."

"My friend? What makes you think that?"

"Alright, not friend, but you travel in the same circles, I know you do."

"You do not know as much as you think you do," he said sternly.

"Exactly. I know that, I know where my place is in all this and I know that you travel in circles beyond me, beyond the Venators. I know if you say something then powerful people will hear it."

"What is it that you want me to say? Exactly?"

I told him and he thought long and hard. He knew I was playing a game, and he knew it was dangerous. Probably knew that more than I did.

"What are you doing, Harker?"

"Following your advice. Looking bigger."

He nodded his head.

"Good," he said almost to himself. "I will let it be known, but you must tell me. Why?"

"We're cracking the Theorem. We need the Box to get to the next level."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Then I am impressed."

"You know it already though, don't you?"

"Know what?"

"The Theorem."

"No more than any other."

"I don't believe you," I smiled.

"You don't have to," he smiled back. "I travel in circles beyond you."

He stood and was serious again.

"I will do as you ask, Harker. I trust you, though only God in Heaven can say why."

"It's my eyes."

I let him get to the door before I called to him.

"You're right. I'm small fry; you don't have to do anything for me. Thanks."

"If it is the Lord's will then it is for me to do," he said and left.

†

I continued on as normal. As soon as it was known I was taking clients I was back in the neighbourhood that had the teens spraying graffiti. There had been a murder and a disappearance since I last looked into it and the symbol was being found in more places. I interviewed the two kids who were beyond terrified. They talked of a cult, but didn't want to say too much. They were sorry and thought it was a laugh, but now they realised it wasn't and were scared that they too would be murdered or taken.

I couldn't get a police report, but from what I heard it didn't sound like a ritual murder. At least not in the satanic sense and the two teens never mentioned the devil.

So while the police investigated the murder, with the assumption that the disappeared man had committed it, I looked into the occult side of it.

It was two days in when I finally managed to meet with Garrett.

"It's been busy," she said in way of apology.

"That's cool."

"What's been happening?"

I filled her in as best as I could.

"So we're set."

"As far as I can tell, yeah."

"What do you want me to do?" she asked.

"Nothing you don't want to," I replied and she gave me a face.

"I'm in. I told you that."

"This is bigger than murders."

"But it is murders."

"And what if we brace Fairfax? Will they stop? Will we even be able to stop him? At this point the best I'm hoping for is a chat with him."

"No, you're not," she looked me in the eyes. "You're going to take him down. You might not want to admit that, but you know that's what you're going to do."

I looked back at her, eye to eye, but I had to turn away.

"This is not my world, I'm not sure it's yours either," she said softly, "but if he is behind this and he talks; if I'm there then I have grounds to investigate him."

I scratched my throat with the back of my fingers and then nodded.

"I'll be in contact."

†

I was amazed I could keep focussed on the case I was on, but it engrossed me. It wasn't satanic, but had all the hallmarks of being so. It was definitely cultish, but nothing I had come across before. I wasn't sure how I was going to pacify the community. That was the job. They didn't say it, but they wanted me to tell them it wasn't occult and everything would be OK. That was easier said than done.

The day before I got the call, the police found the body of the missing person. I didn't hear anything official, but they were assuring the community that it was over. That it was extremely likely that the man had killed the woman and then fled before killing himself.

The local teacher that had hired me didn't buy it and neither did I, but there wasn't much else to do that warranted them paying me. I hadn't found much. But enough for me to want to keep digging.

But that all ended with the call.

"We've got Courts," the voice said before the line went dead.

It took me ten minutes to pack and be in the car and away.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

"What the hell is this?" Courts asked as I entered the room.

"A reading room?" I asked back.

He made a face somewhere between a grimace and a smile.

"Harker," he seethed.

"In the flesh."

"So what's this about?" he tried to raise his hands but they were cuffed behind him on the chair. "I ain't nobody."

We were in Annie's reading room and the shop was most definitely closed.

"Bruce?" I asked.

"He came in and tried to assault Miss Bulson here. Didn't know I was around," Bruce said.

"Well that's not very nice," I chided.

"Alright. I was wrong. I've been working on this a long time, I couldn't let someone else take it. It's the way things work, Harker, you know that. And if you're the Bruce then you know it as well. She should too."

"It's cool, Raymond, we all understand it, that's why you're cuffed to that chair."

He looked at me with hate, but acceptance. We were playing the same game.

"You're playing with fire," he said.

"Nope. Not us. You," I said.

Courts smiled.

"He'll see you with him in the Fire yet."

I stared at him and my thoughts ran wild, but I dragged them back.

"We're moving him," I said.

"That could be dangerous," Bruce warned.

We drove in silence. Bruce sat in the back with a still handcuffed Courts and Annie sat next to me looking out of the window.

I thought as we drove. So far it was all working out nicely. The contact point had been the Librarian though it was Annie who was officially looking for the Box. There had been a lot of interest on the Internet, mostly from people wondering if the Box was close by or about to surface, but also from people interested in the idea that the Theorem might be cracked. Of course that got shot down a lot, people didn't believe it could be, but mixed in with the idea of the Box being close, people began to wonder. The Librarian dealt with the interest, keeping people away from Annie, until we started getting some interest from a person who was, or was working for, The Ghost. It took the Librarian's knowledge and genius to spot it and focus on it.

The person was scoping us and it again brought up the question as to whether The Ghost had the Box or was looking for it. The answer was surely now that he was looking for it. He had heard of it surfacing here and wanted to secure it to sell. That was why Fairfax was killing to find the Box, he didn't know who had it.

But then who did? If they were all searching for it, why did they all think it was here? We still couldn't pin down where the information was coming from, but you'd think it was legit for The Ghost to be involved. So the information came from another source and they were all looking for it, but none had managed to find it, or at least do a deal. So who had it?

It bugged me, but it didn't actually matter. What mattered was that we had the interest; that Courts had taken that seriously and had tried to get the information for himself. If Annie was close to breaking the Theorem and that would get her the Box, then he needed that information for himself.

And so here he was.

We brought him to a Venator safe house, and when I say house I mean a normal house on a normal street. And when I say normal, I mean it was set up for keeping and interrogating suspects. Sound proofed, I hoped for the neighbour's sake.

Garrett and the Librarian met us there and we took Courts to a bedroom that had been converted into an interrogation room. Bruce stayed in the room to pray over Courts, but it was Garrett and the Librarian that did the interrogating. Garrett was obviously in charge due to her police experience and the Librarian was there to feed in the information that she wouldn't know or understand. From the little I saw, she worked well off of his information, showing no clue that she might not truly understand it.

The Librarian was also there for another reason. He was a truly terrifying interrogator. You wouldn't think it from meeting him, but it came from his bargaining skills. In his line of work he had to negotiate a lot and he was excellent at it. This translated across to an interrogation style that involved firing lots of questions, facts and data at the person until they couldn't cope with the information. Plus aggressive questioning. Yup, and you wouldn't think he had an aggressive bone in his body.

It was also something I didn't think Annie needed to see so we stayed downstairs in the kitchen and drank some tea.

"What's happening up there?" Annie asked, a little worried.

"They're breaking him," I said and she looked more worried. "Not like that. Through questions."

I'd wanted to start off, try and get Courts to talk off the bat, but Garrett had nixed it. She told me she couldn't be brought in as a second attempt, it would seem like she was the bad guy there to force him to talk. So I briefed her and she got to work.

"Then why are we down here?"

"Because it still isn't that nice," I admitted. "He's not going to want to talk, they're trying to make him. But I've told Garrett to be nice. We want him to think we're just competition."

"And this is how you do it?" she said with a little venom.

"No. I'm not normally in this situation."

"Then why are you now?"

I sighed and scratched my throat with the back of my fingers.

"Because I am. That's the best I can give you. I thought it was one thing, but it never was. It was always this."

Bruce came in at that moment to get drinks for everyone.

"How's it going?" I asked.

"Cordially for the most part, but, man, that Librarian is slick at this."

"Isn't he just," I smiled.

"Who'da thought?"

Annie found a chess set and we played that in silence as the questioning continued. The day got late and Adelaide turned up.

"How are you doing?" she asked Annie.

"OK, I guess. It's tiring."

"It is, isn't it?" she smiled. "Not much fun."

"I'm fine," I said.

"I didn't ask," she replied.

"I noticed that."

"Is everything alright?" Annie asked nervously.

"She's angry with me. Because I've brought you into this," I explained.

"I wanted to be here," she told Adelaide.

"It doesn't matter. He should know better."

"She doesn't like it when I drag others into my messes. She's always telling me to leave the Librarian alone too," I shrugged.

"It's OK," Annie promised Adelaide. "I trust, Harker."

Adelaide sighed.

"So do I, dear."

"Really?" I sprang up and grinned.

"Don't even think about hugging me."

"I wasn't... well maybe just a quick one?"

"No. I'm still angry and I'm taking her."

"No," Annie protested.

"Yes," I said. "Nothing more is going to happen tonight. It really is boring, taking shifts to guard Courts overnight and hoping he talks tomorrow. All we need to hear is who he's working for."

She scrutinised me and could see I wasn't lying because, well, I wasn't. It really was boring and I'd take Adelaide's offer over staying there. I looked down at the chessboard and moved a piece.

"Come on," Adelaide said.

Annie got up and then looked down at the board. She moved a piece.

"Checkmate," she said brightly.

I looked at the board. Dammit. I'd been moving in the wrong direction, she'd got me through misdirection. Have I mentioned I hate chess?

Adelaide stopped at the back door and turned to look at me. She pulled aside her jacket to reveal a gun. She arched an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah," I said and she nodded.

"Then be careful."

"Trust me," I smiled and she pouted before leaving.

It wasn't long after the sun went down that Jules appeared. Garrett was playing chess against the Librarian as Bruce took the first watch on Courts who was asleep in a bedroom.

"So?" she asked having given a meaningful glance at the chess game.

I nodded to the door and we walked to another room.

"So?" I asked her back.

"So I've been in contact with Fairfax. So he knows you have something about the coup, a someone who might be able to give information."

"Good."

"You think he'll come?"

"If it's him. Otherwise it's going to be a boring night. We still need to know what Courts knows, Jules. Why he is looking for the Box."

"You and that Box," she huffed.

"You and the Box," I huffed back.

"What do you hope to get out of this?" she asked.

"I don't know. That's why I'm doing it. Fairfax is involved somehow and I want to know."

"But according to you the murders are over. They were a breakaway."

"Right. But Fairfax is up to something."

"And does that concern you?"

"Apparently so."

She looked at me.

"What?" I raised an eyebrow.

"You just surprise me. That's all."

"It's your fault. You mentioned the coup."

"If Fairfax was part of the coup, I think we'd know. We've been working with him, remember?"

"Right," was all I said.

"I'm going to stick around. For the night, but I was never here, clear?"

I looked at her.

"Yeah. Clear."

I hated Venator politics.

We hadn't got much from Courts, but so far he seemed willing enough to be in his position. He'd planned on putting Annie through this, after all. He talked on the Box and there was some stuff in there that interested the Librarian. Some stuff that interested me in terms of the machinations of buying and selling religious artefacts. What he wasn't giving us was who he worked for. He was swearing that he worked for himself. That he heard the Box was coming and had been working to secure it. He also wasn't clear on whether he was buying from The Ghost, though the Librarian believed that was because he didn't know. He'd been trying to make contact with him, that he admitted, but he wouldn't say much else.

"Well we know that," I said to the Librarian as I moved a pawn.

"It's interesting though. Who has the Box?"

"Yeah, I know. If The Ghost has it, why isn't he selling it to Courts?"

"So what if The Ghost is also looking for it?" he asked.

"I think he is, but then who does have it?" I moved a knight.

"How do we even know it's here?" he asked moving his castle.

"Just because everyone else seems to think so."

"Really?" he asked a little surprised as I moved a bishop. "We don't even know The Ghost is here."

"We have to assume by the traffic we've been getting."

"Yes," he thought. "That is true. The last I checked, our man was again trying to get verification that we were breaking the Theorem. Again I wouldn't give anything away."

"Good," I nodded and moved my queen against his bishop.

"But we are, Harker. This has gone from a gambit to a truth. I really could use the Box to help break the Theorem."

"No," I shook my head while considering moving a pawn. "It's not the Box, it's the Codex. It always has been."

"That is something to think on. For now I want to know what Courts knows. I want that Box, Harker."

I looked up at him.

"Why?"

"It could change everything."

"Yeah. That's why Courts wants it."

He looked down at the chessboard. I moved my pawn and he took it with his knight.

"You're right. I apologise," he said.

"Don't."

He stared long and hard at the chessboard.

"We still have to consider that Courts and whoever is behind him is trying to do the same thing."

"And we have to stop that."

He looked up at me.

"I..." he started.

"Am struggling. I know. You're a scholar, you want to know."

"But that is not our purpose. Our purpose is to stop them."

I looked at my watch.

"Well then, let's go and brace our man."
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

"What the hell is this?" he screamed as Bruce dragged him out of bed.

"Time for answers," Bruce replied as he dragged him down the hall.

He threw him into the interrogation room where the Librarian and I were waiting.

"What the hell?" he asked from the floor, shielding his eyes from the light.

"I want answers, Raymond. I'm done playing games."

"It's just business," he complained and tried to get up.

The Librarian pushed him back down with his foot.

"You hang with some serious people, Raymond, but you're not so tough. You've got used to protection. No protection here," I said.

Courts, on hands and knees, looked up at me and smiled bitterly.

"Screw you."

The Librarian kicked him over to his back.

"Funny, I thought you'd be the good cop," he sneered.

"I am," the Librarian replied.

"All I want to know is why Fairfax is looking for the Box," I said calmly.

"Who?" Courts got to his knees, but he eyed the Librarian.

"Good one," I said. "But you're an idiot. Do you think we've got you here because of you? Do you really think you're so important? We have you; we've had you long enough for you to talk. Let me ask you this, how long do you think you'll live after we let you go?"

"I haven't said anything," he shouted.

"Tell that to your boss. We could keep you safe, the Venators would protect you. If you had information worth keeping you for."

He got to his feet.

"Ha. Again you're assuming I work for someone. I don't. No one will care."

"Oh no?" I asked him and nodded to the wall.

A light had started to flash. The silent alarm.

"Perimeter alarm," the Librarian said. "They're here,"

"OK, OK," Courts shouted. "Keep me safe. I want to live, OK? I want to live, I don't care how. I'll change. I'll tell you everything."

"Get him out of here," I commanded.

"He's not talking," the Librarian countered.

"You're right. Leave him here to them."

"No," Courts shouted. "I said I'd change. You're right, OK? You're right, I'm working for Fairfax and some Grigori. I don't know why, but I can tell you more."

"Get him out of here. Quickly," I said.

†

They did come, just not then. Jules had judged they would come at a time when we were at our lowest ebb and I wasn't going to risk a gunfight. By the time they arrived we had already been gone an hour. Jules watched it through the cameras that were wired up, she told me later that she was glad we weren't there. Heavily armed and very professional.

I may have let them know where we were, may not have used quite the secure communications channel as I should, but now Courts was well and truly off of the map. As soon as those troops hit the house she knew it was Fairfax. Only he could have put Court's disappearance together with my news of finding someone who knew about the coup. He would have thought Courts was about to expose him and sent people to stop that. To silence us all.

I sat behind my desk the next morning having had very little sleep. I knew it would happen, but I wished it wouldn't. I wanted to go home and sleep. No, I wanted to go home and drink and then sleep. I wanted to lose it all in a bottle of scotch and wake up the next morning as if nothing had happened. But that wasn't going to happen, I wasn't going to be safe sleeping until this was finished.

Instead I spent the night in prayer with Bruce until I fell asleep from exhaustion, with Bruce keeping watch over me.

I knew he'd come though, he had to. He couldn't get to Courts and he must know I was behind it, but he would have to know. Have to come and talk, find out if I did know anything, if I really did have Courts. And then silence me.

So I sat at my desk. I'd told Adelaide not to come in, she'd argued, but I'd told her to look after Annie. Apparently she thought Annie was worth looking after more than me because she agreed.

It was before business hours when he walked through the door.

"Harker," he smiled.

"Fairfax," I didn't smile.

"I hear you have information on the coup."

"Really? Are we still playing that game?" I stood and walked around the desk.

His face turned serious.

"Everyone underestimated you and your band of watchmen, didn't they? Except the Venator. What a clever little puppy she is. She knew you'd keep going with this, she knew that once she gave you a scent you wouldn't give up."

"How long did you think it could last, Fairfax? Really?"

"Well that's it, isn't it? You're moving in circles you can't understand. If she hadn't set you on the case then long enough. Long enough."

"No. You're undoing were the seal makers."

"Yes. Those fools. But even then it was you, wasn't it?" he gave a little sigh. "We all underestimated you. You were small fry, but now? Congratulations, Harker, you have all eyes on you. People will think twice before dealing with the Man Who Walks Alone.

"Ahh. I should have known it really, shouldn't I? The Man Who Walks Alone. Makes sense," he mused.

"It's over, Fairfax."

"No," he shook his head to himself. "With all you've done, no one will be surprised that you turn up dead."

"We still have Courts."

"And what? He'll say he was looking for the Box for me. So? You'll let him go and I'll deal with him. No. It's you that worries me."

"You think the Snake hasn't heard by now?"

"That doesn't worry me. You're the thorn in my side."

"I don't care about your coup, Fairfax, I care about your murders."

"The Dampner Ritual. It's an unfortunate necessity in locating artefacts," he shrugged.

"It hasn't found you the Box."

"No, it hasn't, has it," he smiled. "What game do we play? What strange magic?"

I looked at him whilst trying to hide my confusion.

"Come now, Harker. You know, or maybe not so much," he grinned.

"What I know is that you're finished, Fairfax. The Snake won't let you continue."

He pulled open his coat to reveal a sword that he pulled. It was big, double edged and inlaid with gems. The blade was dull with a coat of dried blood.

"You know why angels still fight with swords? It's about honour, I believe. About doing things personally. Death is important, Harker, it's a gateway. Like the Box. You don't send someone to the other side with a bullet from a hundred metres away. You send them there yourself, looking into their eyes. It's important, you see? If you go to Paradise, then you will know you reached there by your enemy's hand. My hand."

"You want to cross the abyss, Fairfax? I can help you with that," I said and pulled my sword.

He laughed.

"If I lose today then I will never see the desolation, only a lake of fire awaits me. It is that that I wish to remedy. Surely you can understand that?"

"Then turn to the Light."

"Never," he declared and struck.

"Lord protect me," I shouted as I deflected his blow.

I tried to step back and pull my blade down and back over his, but he pushed forward and hit my blade with the flat of his. I was pushed back until my legs cracked against my desk. I was forced to push forwards and then side step right as his own momentum carried him into the desk. I whirled around as he did and we clashed blades again. I swept my blade over and struck sideways, but he blocked it and flicked his blade to my neck. I swept it up as I stepped back, but the wall was close behind me.

I had two problems. Well, OK, I had a lot of problems, but right then and there I had the problems of little space within which to fight and tiredness. Not just from my lack of sleep, but also an overall exhaustion. I didn't know how much longer my body could keep fighting.

"You have some skill, but not enough," Fairfax grinned.

"I'm a man of peace."

"Well, doesn't that seem foolish now?"

He brought his blade in low and to my side and I deflected it before moving right towards the door and striking high. Which he met and our blades clashed to and fro before we were again locked face to face.

"Your God not stepping in to help you?" he sneered.

"No, He must think I'm capable of beating you myself," I grinned.

I didn't feel it though. In my mind I was begging for Him to help me.

"You can't win," I said as I pushed back and sliced at him. "The others will still see you outed."

"The others? Your watchmen? Guarding the city, keeping all the little folk safe in their beds?" he sneered again, he was good at it. "What? A bouncer? A couple of book worms and the police? Please."

"You underestimate them," I said as I blocked another blow having to quickly swipe away a thrust.

"No. I do not. Without you they are nothing."

"You're forgetting the Venators," I said parrying.

"They will let politics rule the day, they won't risk a fight with me."

It was my turn to thrust, my back now to the sofas. He was right, they wouldn't take on Fairfax and his organisation without ironclad evidence. It was just me, here, in this room. And I was flagging.

I managed to dodge under his blade so that my back was again to the door. I pushed forward again, but he parried once more. Every muscle ached, I couldn't do too much more of this.

"Do you really think I hadn't planned for everything? Did you really think you'd come in and catch me unawares? I knew there would be hiccoughs, I knew I might need to step in. That's all you are, Harker, all you've ever been, a hiccough, a bump in the road."

"Are you saying you're better than me? My mum thinks I'm special."

I managed to deflect another blow, my arms ached and I knew I wouldn't be able to deflect another. My strength was gone.

"Then she's wrong. You're not, and yes, I am better than you, all of you and I will take my rightful place."

"How very humble of you."

Ooh. Right. Ask and you shall receive. Thanks, Lord.

He pushed in again and this time I didn't try to fight, I couldn't anyway, but when we can do no more ourselves, God steps in. 'Those that wait on the Lord will renew their strength.'

I fell back, controlling my fall and letting my sword fall away from me. My head was almost in the doorway.

"So it is over," he grinned down at me. "You were not strong enough, your God did not save you for He is weak and we are strong. His throne is ours to take," he pointed his sword down at my throat.

"He gives free access to the Throne, Fairfax, all we need do is enter."

He barked a laugh as he pressed his sword into my flesh.

"We will not be servants in Heaven like you wish to be, we will be Freemen, we will rule in His place. His time is over and nothing can stop us."

"But you're wrong. Proverbs 16 verse 18: 'Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."

"So it does," he grinned and pulled his sword up to strike me dead.

With the last of my strength I arched my back and pulled both pistols. They appeared in my hands and, looking him straight in the eyes, I shot him dead.

I rolled as he fell forwards and, dropping my guns, pushed myself to my feet.

"God answers prayer, Fairfax. Always."

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

"Misdirection," I said as she walked into her dimly lit office.

"Harker. How do you get in here?" she asked angrily.

"It's over. I've done what you wanted."

"And what does that mean?" she asked walking around her desk and sitting down.

"Fairfax is dead."

"What?"

"Oh, don't," I said tiredly.

"Now, Harker..."

"Shut up," I shouted. "Just shut up," quieter.

She looked at me.

"How long have you known?"

"Since I began to put all the evidence together. None of it pointed to who was behind the murders. It all pointed to you. And the Box. Something was happening, something big and beyond my scope, but you guys were asked to help. Some kind of deal with or for Phillipe's Box and, if I had to guess, you were protection.

"Then Fairfax started poking his nose in and that's why you let him in, that's why you both came to see me. You wanted him where you could watch him and you wanted to stick him under my nose."

She nodded.

"Whatever you are involved in, he was a major pain and you used me to keep him out of it. It was you who put my name out there, made me a risk to him."

She nodded again.

"Yes. I knew you could do it. You have to understand that I can't talk to you about it, but I can tell you that it was important. Important enough to use you."

"You threw me to the wolves."

"I knew you could handle yourself and I was right," she leaned back in her chair. "Your so-called seal makers messed everything up for everyone.

"Yes we were employed by someone outside and yes we had Fairfax close to keep him away, but when those idiots split off it made Fairfax more dangerous and more unpredictable. And it brought you in.

"I knew that if the seal makers were connected to Fairfax you'd find that out, but I knew that if I gave you enough you'd get to him anyway. I didn't use you, I played the situation."

"Like with Underdown?" I accused and a look of hurt passed imperceptibly across her face.

"He was supposed to go rogue, be tempted by Fairfax and feed him false information. We didn't know he had a girlfriend."

"Worked out for you though, didn't it? The rogue Henchmen."

"It did, yes."

"You're despicable," I seethed.

"No. This is war, Harker, you need to remember that. Underdown accepts it. You should to."

"Tell that to Aimee Peters' family."

She sat forward and then back. In the dim light of the lamps I thought she was crying. I felt bad.

"I'm sorry."

"You think it's easy? What we do? The calls we make, the sacrifices to stop even more sorrow?"

"No," I mumbled.

"Yes, we used you. I used you. Because I knew you were good enough, better than us. The Man Who Walks Alone, who won't take sides. The man who chooses justice and righteousness, the man who walks the narrow road. How easy it must be for you?" she almost spat out that last bit.

I stood.

"Well. It's done."

"Sit down," she commanded and I did.

"And how hard," she said softly. "I know you may never talk to me again, but I want you to know we're both working towards the same thing."

"I don't question your motives," I said.

"What about yours? Why, if you knew, why did you see it through?"

"Because this is what it was. From the very beginning. It wasn't about stopping those murders, it was about stopping Fairfax. I was given a verse, my Bible was left open with a chess piece, a knight, upon it. Ezekial 25 v 17."

"'And I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and they shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them.'" she quoted.

I nodded.

"They know that now, Harker. Vengeance has been served," she said softly.

I felt sick.

†

I took some time off to heal, both mentally and physically, I was pretty beat up in both regards. I rented a small cabin in the mountains and spent my days walking, studying my Bible and praying.

The sky was a slate grey and the mountains stood robust and defiant to industrialisation. Wild, free and unmoveable. The valleys wound below me, the scars of the Ice Age, a reminder that nature, and it's Creator, were stronger and longer lasting than man.

I looked down over one such valley and thought of the Psalm.

"'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me'," he said.

I turned to see him sitting against a rock.

"You read minds now?" I asked.

"You're predictable," the Exorcist smiled. "It's the wrong part to dwell upon."

"Seems fitting," I told him.

"Perhaps," he stood.

"It was you wasn't it? You have the Box."

"Does it matter?"

"You told me it was bigger and it was. I should have listened then. You had the Box and you were doing a deal with The Ghost. I don't think you were selling it. You know what I think?"

He just watched my face. Not looked at, watched.

"I think The Ghost has the Codex. I think you were doing a deal to get the two back together, but for that you needed to prove to him you had the Box."

"It's always bigger, Harker, you would do well to remember that next time."

"Next time? After all this, I'm not sure I want to be involved in bigger things," I said.

He smiled.

"Only 'not sure' though," he stood. "I am just here to revoke your commission, your fight is over."

He walked off.

I watched him go and then I couldn't see him. Despite the whole cloak and cowl thing. How did he do that?

Later I sat in my cabin with a cup of tea. I hadn't drunk alcohol since before facing Fairfax and both my mind and my body felt better for it. It was a vicious circle, I drank because I was depressed, but alcohol is a depressant. I didn't know how long it would last back in the world, but out here, alone, I had swapped my demon for prayer.

So what had I learnt? I thought on what Fairfax had said about being a Freeman of Heaven rather than a servant. He was greedy and despite everything only thought in Earthly terms. That of power over others and shiny rocks.

I thought again of the people in the street, not knowing or caring about the spiritual realms, nor about God. I had sometimes wished to be like them, ignorant and blissful, but that wasn't true, wasn't true bliss.

Fairfax was wrong. I'd rather be a servant of the Living God, whatever His bidding was, whatever His plan for my life, than be a Freeman of anywhere, for 'if the Son sets you free, you are free indeed'.

I looked down to the Bible in my lap and reread the verse from Psalm 84:

'For a day in your courts is better than a thousand. I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of wickedness. For the Lord God is a sun and shield: the Lord will give grace and glory: no good thing will he withhold from them that walk uprightly. O Lord of hosts, blessed is the man that trusts in thee.'

Then I flicked back to Psalm 23.

What had I learnt from all of this?

'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He makes me to lie down in green pastures: he leads me beside the still waters.

He restores my soul: he leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou prepares a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anoints my head with oil; my cup runs over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.'

Amen.
EPILOGUE

"They know that now, Harker. Vengeance has been served," she said softly.

I felt sick and got up. I walked to her door before I turned.

"This isn't over," I said.

"No," she shook her head. "Not by a long shot."
If you enjoyed this book, perhaps you would consider helping a brother out and rating or reviewing it? It really could change my life...

Still, while you're here, why not check out the following extracts by the same author:

The ADVENTURES IN SPACE series

The TSAR Trilogy

Book 1

The Trimedian

A NOT SO QUIET SATURDAY (extract)

"Jase? Where you been? I've been trying to call you," It was Jason's best friend Milk. Though he had no idea why he was called this and neither, seemingly, did Milk.

"Yes, that's why I've had my phone off."

"Well it's not off now."

"No, I can see that. I'm trying to have a peaceful Saturday."

"Ahhh," came Milk's voice down the line, it was one of those 'ahhh's that says I'm about to ruin whatever it was that you were doing before I came along. "Well, we need to meet up and chat, well I say chat, more like incredibly long, serious conversation that is best taken place in a pub over a number of beers, the effect of which will help you to believe it was all a dream the next day until I turn up and say it again."

"I've got a free Saturday," said Jason frowning.

"Great, I'll come over now."

"No, I mean I have a free Saturday and I'm enjoying it that way."

"Ahh, valkswagon. A free Saturday is hard to come by in this day and age."

Milk was vexed, he had seriously life changing news for Jase, news that could not wait; but at the same time you don't want to be the person to spoil a free Saturday.

"Weeeeelllll, why don't we just go to the pub for a pint or two? That's still regular fare for a free Saturday, is it not?"

"I guess..." said Jason feeling lured.

"Brilliant, see you at the 'Horse's Arse' in thirty minutes," and he hung up the phone.

Jason turned his phone off and got back to his sandwich. His phone promptly switched itself back on to pass on the information it had just heard, little did it know that this was the beginnings of the best piece of gossip in history, gossip that would make the phone famous across the globe, or at least as famous as phones can be.

As he ate, Jason thought about his friend, Milk. He had known him five years, which equated to his whole life as Jason had come out of a coma five years ago with no memory about anything before. The only thing or person he vaguely recognised was Milk who filled him in with everything and helped him get back to life.

Allegedly Jason had been in a car crash, though he had no knowledge of how to drive when he woke up. The doctors were quite frankly astounded that he could remember absolutely nothing and more astounded that despite this he made a full recovery. And even more astounded that said full recovery took him a mere ten minutes after he awoke. Jason Wellgood, they would say, was a strange case. Just how strange a case the man himself was about to find out over a pint of local bitter.

***

"Well," said Milk once they were seated with a pint each, "where to begin? Hmm, I think I'll begin with a drink."

He began tipping the booze down his neck and Jason took the chance to peruse his friend. Milk was a quite frankly huge Indian guy who had a penchant for wearing a turban merely for the look. 'Makes me feel like a real Indian' he was want to say. Milk must have been seven foot if not a bit more and was built like a brick outhouse for want of a more polite turn of phrase. He also had an incredibly posh voice when they first met, though that had slowly included more London mockney as the years went by. He was dressed in a silver tracksuit that was beyond hideous, but how do you go about telling a seven foot Indian he looks like a nonce? Jason, himself, was wearing the classic American combination of white T shirt and jeans along with his standard faded red leather jacket.

He took a deep drink of his own beer, which was logical, and asked, "So?"

"Right, yes, well. More beer?"

"No."

"No, right, well, so, er... the accident, then, five years ago."

Jason suddenly had a deep sense of unease, he also had a shallow sense of unease, but no one ever seems to care about them, do they? Did Milk know something that he wasn't telling him?

"Do you know something you're not telling me?"

"In a word, yes. That whole accident thing was a bit of a lie."

Jason put his pint down a little too hard. "A bit of a lie? What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, basically, it never actually happened. We wiped your memory."

"You... you what?"

"Wiped your memory."

Jason sat in bewilderment. He'd never been there before and though it seemed an interesting place in a Jackson Pollock sort of way, it was not a place he wanted to stay in for more than a few minutes. Much like student poetry recitals.

"Wait a minute. We? You said 'we' wiped my memory; who's we?"

"Well, I think we ought to come back to that later. There are more, er, puzzling things for you to discover first. Go and get us a pint each whilst I collect my thoughts."

Jason could have argued, but there didn't really seem any point, and he could do with more booze. Milk sat there staring at the back of his huge hands, he slowly turned them over and let his eyes follow the lines of his palms, more like crevasses than lines really. He sighed; he would miss Earth and this thought surprised him, he was disappointed to come here five years ago, hidden away from the rest of the Universe, but he really didn't have much choice if he was honest with himself and it was a cushy gig. That was what he couldn't work out, and still hadn't, why those in charge had let him come, done something so, well, nice. It was out of character.

Still he'd grown to like the planet; it was famous for a number of reasons, despite its backwardness. For one, Earth seemed to have a regenerative effect on those who did not live there and so had many famous (and hidden from Earthens) spas. Just a week on Earth could have you looking and feeling a year younger.

Secondly, the thing with Earthens was that their backwardness meant they concentrated on things no one else did. Like perfecting a good pint, inventing the guitar, jokes, TV. No one else in the Universe bothered too much with TV because if they wanted to escape, wanted adventure, they just went out and found it rather than get it vicariously through a box. On the other hand, you'd never find Jimi Hendrix on any other planet as no one would spend that much concentration on a musical instrument. He was glad Earth was as it was for this reason; the Universe without Jimi wasn't really a universe at all.

Jason plonked himself down with two pints and a packet of pork scratchings.

"So where were we? Ahh, yes, you were drivelling on about wiping my memory. I'd think you were joking, but you don't really get jokes do you?"

Milk was aggrieved. "I think I've gotten a lot better at understanding them over the last five years, I even made that girl laugh last week at the Jamestown Club!"

"Well, I'll give you that; it was pretty funny, though I can't actually remember what you said."

Milk sighed, no he couldn't either, damn his penchant for vodka jellies. He just remembered the warm surge of pride as they all laughed and now he was glad he had got one good one in before they left.

"Anyway, we're getting away from ourselves."

"I'd like to be getting away from you."

"Not going to happen anytime soon. Listen your name isn't really Jason Wellgood, you're not really a writer, and you don't even really come from Earth."

"Excuse me?" Jason didn't really believe his ears, his friend had always been a bit odd, but it seemed he had finally snapped.

"Your name isn't really Jason Wellgood, you're not really a writer, and you don't even really come from Earth."

Best to take this calmly, don't freak out, help your friend, listen to his delusions and then ever so gently suggest some help.

"So what is my name?" this was an ever so wrong moment to take a sip of his pint.

"Chase Darkstaar."

Jason splat his pint across the table, gagged and coughed at the same time, belched and then laughed. "Chase Darkstaar? That's ridiculous!"

"Yeah, I know," said Milk somewhat gloomily.

"You're serious aren't you?" Jason frowned.

As previously mentioned Milk wasn't the greatest punster and this kind of trickery would be beyond him even if he had gone mad. Jason didn't know why, but something in his friend's face convinced him that Milk was telling the truth. I guess that is what friendship is, isn't it? Being willing to trust your friend on a look; believing the most farfetched truths.

"Your name is Chase Darkstaar and you are an intergalactic hitman. Basically you hid something very important and then came to Earth and had your memory wiped so that even if someone found you, you couldn't tell them where it was."

"Er... why?"

"That I have never been able to work out."

"Right and so a/ where do you come into all this, b/ why are you telling me now and c/ what did I hide?"

Despite the obvious lunacy Jason kind of wanted it to be true so that he would not lose his friend to an asylum and so that his life might be somewhat more exciting.

"Well, c/ I don't know; a/ I'm your friend and assistant in all things, when you chose this job I had to come and make sure everything was OK. Make sure you settled into Earth life etc. and b/ I'm telling you this now because there is an intergalactic WAR brewing and it is very possible that people will come looking for you to get whatever it is that you hid."

"Right. Sooo..." He took a long gulp of beer. "What's the plan?"

"Well, I have to prove all this to you I suppose."

"Good place to start."

"Then we need to try and get your memory back so that you can find whatever you hid and divert the WAR."

"Right. So how come nobody on Earth knows about said intergalactic shenanigans?"

"It's a long story best told in space, but you will quickly discover that Earth is a very backward planet, heck Earthens still war against themselves. Idiots."

"But we are Earthlings."

"Well yes and no. We are human, our ancestry is on Earth, but neither of us were born there. Again I will fill you in in space."

"In space?"

"In space." Milk got up and Jason followed suit.

"Tell me one thing."

"OK"

"You say I was a hitman?"

"That's right, the best."

"Was I a nice guy?"

Milk blushed and looked at his canoe-esque feet. "Erm, no not really."

"Oh."

### Pray for Rain

Part 1

The Casinos of Haffir

CHAPTER 1

"This has to be your worst idea yet," Rainsford Tsyrker shouted into her comms.

" _Worse than Tornin?"_ Stephen Regrette asked.

"It's OK for you, you're not out here."

The 'out here' she referred to was crawling along the roof of the high speed train between the cities of Rachain and Faloo. It hovered over a rail that was held high above the ground by boosters and she could only be thankful that the entrance hatch was on the roof and not between the train and the rail. She was on the roof of the cargo carriage and though she was close to the loading hatch the wind was making it hard to get anywhere.

She unlocked one of her grip magnets and pushed it forward before locking it again. Then she did the same with the other hand. How had she gotten this job? Grant was in the train somewhere comfortably while Regrette was in high altitude ready to swoop in once the package was secured.

It was her own fault, back on Lancow II, the last job they'd done, she'd poked fun at them for nearly failing because they weren't fit enough to cope. They hadn't said that, but she knew that was why it was her stuck on the roof. Though to be fair, she smiled to herself, either of them would have been sucked under the train by now.

"I'm at the hatch," she said.

" _Nicely done,"_ Ben Grant replied.

"How're the cocktails?"

" _A little sweet for my liking, but I'm surviving."_

"Poor you."

" _I know, but taking one for the team."_

He sounded smug, she knew he was baiting her and she wouldn't let him.

"How's it look in there?"

" _Hard to get too close, but the guards seem bored, but alert."_

"OK, well attaching the breaker now. Gulch?"

" _I've got the signal,"_ Gulch said from the ship. _"Breaking the alarm now."_

The breaker made a helpful _ping_ and a little light went from red to green.

" _Now for the lock,"_ Gulch said as the light went back to red.

The hatch was big, used for cranes to lower large cargo in and she was going to have to use the slipstream from the train's velocity to fling it open. That would alert the guards and then they had a very small window of opportunity to grab and escape.

" _Ahh,"_ said Regrette.

"Ahh, what?" Tsyrker said angrily as she was trying to manoeuvre into position.

" _Readings on the long range scan. Moving in fast."_

" _Company?"_ Grant asked

" _Looks like Durden Raiders."_

" _Shabbus. Come to steal what we're stealing,"_ Grant swore.

"We're not stealing it," Rainsford reminded him.

" _Retrieving didn't have the same ring to it."_

" _Either way, you need to move,"_ Regrette urged.

"Gulch?"

" _There, lock is open."_

Rainsford had left one of her grip magnets down by her leg and held onto the other as she pulled a crowbar from her suit and pried open the hatch. She let go of the grip and skidded back before grabbing the other, just far enough away not to get smashed by the hatch as the wind got under and yanked it open. She then threw herself forward, grabbing the closer grip and swung herself inside.

***

As she was doing this Ben Grant was sauntering up to the guards at the door to the cargo carriage. They were bored enough not to notice him until he got nice and close.

"Stop there."

"About that," he said when there was a loud crash from the roof of the cargo carriage.

The two guards pulled guns and as they did so Grant fired an electrode at each. Hitting them in the neck it sent through enough electricity to knock them out.

He ran up and attached a breaker.

"Gulch?"

" _Easy this one,"_ Gulch replied and then the breaker beeped and the light went green.

Grant pulled open the door to find Rainsford already in.

"Where?" she shouted over the din of the wind.

He looked around.

"There."

He turned around as she went for the case.

"Trouble coming," he shouted.

Guards were coming down the train. Heavily armed guards.

"Get us out of here," Rainsford shouted.

" _Here we come."_

Above them their ship, The Wraith, dropped through the sky and thrust forward until it was keeping track of the train. A rope with harnesses fell through the open hatch and they both strapped in.

"Up," Grant commanded as the guards closed in.

The rope retracted and they were pulled through the hatch. As they did so Tsyrker dropped a smoke grenade through.

"Definitely Raiders," Grant said and she looked behind her.

There was one larger ship with three fighters and they were closing fast.

"How'd they know?" she asked.

"Let's worry about that later, shall we? Can you hurry this up a bit?"

" _The winch winches as the winch winches,"_ Gulch philosophised.

"Nice," Grant replied.

"Worse than Tornin," Rainsford said to herself.

She swung around and managed to pull her machinegun off of her back as the Raider ships got ever closer.

"You'll make us a target," Grant shouted over the wind.

"You don't think we already are?" she shouted back.

"What? Little old innocent us?"

Rainsford humphed and tried to get aim on one of the fighters. She opened fire just before their ship did and the Durden Raiders split up to avoid the laser fire.

Grant looked down to see guards in the now smoke free cargo carriage aiming up at them. He pulled Tsyrker's pistol and fired down at them. He tried his best not to actually hit them as they swung wildly on the rope.

One of the fighters was coming around behind them and Grant twisted his body so that they swung around on the rope and Rainsford blasted at it. Not that her laser fire would dent the ship's hull, but they couldn't just dangle there. It would look unprofessional and a little lazy.

The ship peeled off as it got blasted by Regrette from The Wraith, but that left the larger ship to try and swoop in.

"4 o'clock," Grant shouted and watched as Regrette re-aimed.

They were finally reaching the ship as the Durden ship tried again to get close enough to snatch them off of the rope. Or at least the case they had taken from the train. A door was opening in the Durden ship as Regrette focussed his firepower on the two fighters. Rainsford could see a man with a long range rifle in the doorway and she sprayed at him with her laser. The man ducked inside and then reappeared, but it was too late, they were finally being taken up into The Wraith.

"We're in, let's go," Grant shouted as they stripped off the harnesses.

The hatch slid shut below them and they ran to the bridge.

"Take the guns," Regrette ordered as they entered.

He was vacating the gunner's chair and taking the helm. Rainsford took the gunner's chair and pulled down the screen. From here she could control all the guns, front, roof and hull, using a joystick on each of the chair arms. There was a second gunner's chair to make the whole thing a lot easier, but she could cope on her own using a three-way split screen.

The ship pulled up and away and she spun the hull guns to blast at the larger Durden ship as it wheeled around to give chase.

"Be ready for more in space," Grant warned.

"Long range scanners aren't picking anything up," Gulch said from the navigator's seat.

Gulch was a Petruthsian, a race of large slug-like creatures who could raise up on their stubby tails to use a number of tentacles.

"Probably keeping back for exactly that reason. Didn't want to tip their hand," Grant said leaning over to look at the scanner.

"Well, game's up now, they'll be moving in."

"Not just them," Regrette said. "InterG ships inbound."

"Great," Grant sighed. "Don't shoot them."

"What am I, a criminal?" Tsyrker shot back.

"They seem to think so," Grant shrugged and walked out of the bridge.

The Wraith shot through the atmosphere and into space. The Durden Raider ships followed with the InterGalactic Police ships behind them. Neither were giving up the chase.

"What's so damned important about this thing?" Regrette said angrily.

"One of the Stones of Tampala," Gulch said. "Very rare, very expensive. Stolen from our client. Very interesting, the Stones, go way back in the mythology of the Kadinar people. You see..."

"Mssh, time and place, Gulch," Regrette said tersely as he jinked the ship left to dodge laser fire. "Coordinates plotted?."

"Right, yes, well, another time perhaps. Plotting now."

"Look forward to it," Regrette ironicalised as he dodged more laser fire from the Durdens. "Can't you do something about them?"

"Surprisingly, they're being evasive," Rainsford sarcasticised.

The arrival of the InterG was to her advantage though. The larger Durden ship had held back as the faster fighters dived in and out trying to cripple The Wraith. With the InterG ships coming up behind them, the Durden ship was forced closer and the fighters were forced to hang back and protect it from front and rear. She got a good shot at the Durden ship as it dodged fire from the InterG.

"Here we are. Durden cruiser on the long range, closing in," Gulch said.

"They won't get involved, just rescue their ships from this mess," Regrette said.

"Agreed," agreed Gulch.

"We still here?" Grant asked from the door.

"Just about to leave," Regrette said spinning left to avoid laser fire. "Coordinates?"

"In," Gulch told him.

"Then let's get out of here," he said and hit the lightspeed boosters.

***

They slowed down in the black void of deep space. Except it wasn't completely void. There was a ship there. Much larger than The Wraith which came and docked in it's hanger.

"Not using the secret hanger?" Grant asked.

"I'm not sticking around," Regrette replied.

"Busy busy."

"I actually think I need a holiday; I only get shot at when I work with you."

"Hey, now, that's because you hide in the shadows normally," Grant said.

"Use, not hide. We've been through this," Regrette chided. "Sort of the point about assassinations, y'know?"

"What about you, Rain?" Grant asked.

"I also don't get shot at. Unless I'm with you," she added as they walked down the ramp.

"What about my money?" Regrette asked.

"I've made contact, you'll have it in a few days."

"Good," Regrette nodded to himself and then turned and walked back up the ramp and into his ship.

It took off as they reached the end of the hanger bay.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Rainsford asked.

"What?"

"What he does."

"You thinking calling it Naval Special Forces is better?"

"Yes," she replied angrily. "I work to protect the UTN and it's people."

"Different packaging, same product," Grant shrugged.

"Oh, get off your high horse, Ben."

She strode off.

"You're mouth moves faster than your brain, Ben," Gulch said.

"Yeah," Grant sighed and ran a hand through his short mop of curls. "Valkswagon."

"I'll get us moving, go and apologise before making contact. I do think we should return the package before it kills us," Gulch said and slithered off.

The Book of Five Worlds

Book I

The Foreshadow of Balance

CHAPTER I

It was a horrible day, not because it was cold, but because Brandon had taken his money again. He still had his secret money so that was OK, but Brandon hadn't left it there. He had been teased through English for answering too many questions and then they had ruined his science experiment and he had been sent out by the teacher. By the time he came home he was miserable and went straight out into the garden. His Dad had some big talk coming up and was still busy in his study and that suited Dylan just fine. The evening was cold; his Dad had taught him that heat goes up from the ground and gets trapped by clouds keeping it warm when the Sun goes down. But there were no clouds this evening and it was still light outside though not for much longer.

He was playing with his plastic knights plus an evil wizard and a big stuffed toy dragon. He had gone through the portal in the shed and the red dragon was a lot bigger than him and his fellow knight and there was no way they were going to beat it unless they could convince the evil wizard to help.

He looked again at the shed; he hated school and studying and those stupid bullies. They thought he was stupid, but he wasn't, he was smart and they didn't like him for that. He wished he really could go through a portal; he wished he could find the magic on Earth and use it to go away. Take him and his Dad somewhere, bring his Mum back.

But she couldn't come back, not even with magic. He didn't really understand it, but his Dad said she had gone to a better place. If he could learn magic, maybe he could take him and his Dad to that better place to be with Mum.

And then the shed door exploded out and a great big grey pig ran out into the garden squealing, steam coming out of its nose, its snout, in great clouds and then it stopped suddenly. It looked left and then right and then straight at Dylan. He wanted to scream, but nothing would come out and then a huge man ran out of the shed.

He wore thick fur instead of a coat and Dylan could only think that he looked dirty. The man stopped just like the pig and looked around. He looked at Dylan and moved towards him and then stopped and looked at the pig which was looking between them. They both looked surprised.

And then Dylan screamed for his Dad.

The pig turned in a circle looking for somewhere to run, and the man moved again toward Dylan, who could now see he had long thick hair and a beard to match with some kind of dirty green trousers on and a metal shirt under the big fur coat thing. And on his back a big two bladed battle axe.

"Dad! Help!"

And then Dylan's Dad ran into the garden with a cricket bat in his hand and stopped as suddenly as the pig and the man had.

"Who are you?" Dad demanded.

"How do we go?" the man asked back in a deep voice.

"Get out of my garden now."

"Your garden?"

"Get out now or I'll use this," he held up the bat, but the man unslung the axe.

"And then I would have to use this. But I don't want to," at the sight of the axe the pig finally made up its mind and ran back to the shed and disappeared inside.

"Now I've lost my dinner," the man said and seemed sad.

"Sorry," said Dylan.

"It wasn't your fault, I should have grabbed it. But where am I?"

"I'm going to call the police now," Dylan's Dad said.

"The what?"

"What's wrong?" Dylan asked the man.

"Dylan, come here," his Dad said. "This man has been drinking."

Dylan understood this. When you drink something called booze you got funny in the head and did stupid things. Sometimes Dad drank booze and got sad about Mum and cried. He didn't like that.

"I haven't had a drop all day," the big man argued. "I wish I had some now for this is greatly vexing."

"Dad has some booze."

"Dylan, stop talking and come here," and Dylan walked past the man, as far away as he could, and Dad relaxed a little when he was next to him. "OK, put the axe away, man."

"Once you put down your... what is this strange weapon you carry?"

"It's a cricket bat, it's for a game," Dylan told him because the man didn't seem dangerous, just confused.

And then the man threw back his head and laughed.

"You threaten me with a bat from a game?" and he laughed again and Dad lowered the bat.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"From the shed," Dylan answered.

"The shed?" the man asked. "No, I come from the forest town of Capel in Collyshire."

"Right," Dylan's Dad said.

"And where am I now? Is this Shed?"

"No, that's the shed," Dylan said and pointed. The man looked at it and then slowly looked back at them.

"What world am I on?" he asked slowly.

"That's enough," Dad started.

"What world am I on?" the man asked more angrily.

"Earth," Dylan said and the man seemed to go white through the dirt and suntan.

"No."

"Yes."

"The Fifth World."

"What did you say?" Dad asked.

"The Fifth World."

"You better come inside."

"What's going on Dad?"

"What's your name?" he asked the man, but he didn't answer, just looked around. "What's your name?"

"What? Lucas."

"You better come inside, Lucas, we need that booze."

{+}

They sat in the study, it wasn't very big and it was stuffed with books, a desk and two comfy chairs. It seemed even smaller with Lucas in there. He stood and just looked around while Dad poured him a glass of something which he took in his big hands. Everything seemed small compared to Lucas, Dylan thought.

"Sit down, Lucas, let me find something," Dad said and started looking through his books. Lucas took off his axe and squeezed into a chair and Dylan stood next to him.

"Why do you need such a big axe?"

He looked down at Dylan. "I don't if I think about it, I just like it."

"Do you kill people?"

"Sometimes, if needs must."

"Right, here it is," Dylan's Dad said holding a big old book.

"What is this?"

"It's a collection; most people thought the writer was an idiot. He put together all the ancient references to the Five Worlds. Look," he flipped open a few pages and showed them to Lucas while Dylan craned to see.

"This can't be true," Lucas shook his head.

"But it is, isn't it? You come from a different world."

"No, this is some magic cast upon me," Lucas shouted and stood up. Dylan staggered backwards and trod on the remote control switching the TV on to the news.

"AARRRGGGHH!" Lucas cried staring at the box. "What by thunder is that?"

"It's a television," Dylan said.

"How do the people get inside?" he was scared.

"They're not inside, silly, they are somewhere else, we can just see them."

"Like a Seer's Orb?"

"No," Dad said, "it runs on electricity, look," he bent down and picked up the remote and showed Lucas how the channels changed.

"Quickly, man, what is your name?"

"Connor James and this is my son Dylan."

"Connor James, explain quickly what this electrickery is."

"Well, you burn coal to make it and then it powers just about everything we use."

Lucas stood and thought about it.

"Coal comes from the ground?"

"Yes, it's animals that died millions of years ago."

"I must go," Lucas said.

"No, stay," said Dylan.

"I will be back, but this is all too much for me. I am not a clever man."

They followed him through the house as he looked at everything, touching things here and there until they were back at the shed. And then he stopped.

"I don't know what to do. Who can I talk to?"

"I don't understand," Connor James said.

"This is too big for my understanding, yet I understand that this is important. Who will use this information for good? The wrong people would use the portal to change the Balance. What if the Chinerthian Queen finds out? But maybe we can use this to defeat her, but, but I don't know."

"Who is the Chinerthian Queen?" Dylan asked.

"I will be back, I don't know how long, but no longer than a week," Lucas said. "Farewell Connor and Dylan of The Shed," he said and then strode through the shed door and disappeared.

Dylan moved towards it, but his Dad grabbed him.

"No. We don't know what is on the other side, or whether we could get back again."

{+}

The next day at school went past as if in a dream. The bullies tried to take his lunch money, but he didn't even notice them.

"Where's my money, pussy?"

"What?" Dylan asked not really even hearing as he continued to walk around the playground.

"My money. What are you deaf?"

"Hmm, no," kept on walking.

"Hey, come back here!" they ran around in front of him, but he changed direction and kept walking and thinking about Lucas and the shed and, what was it called? The portal.

"He's talking to you," someone shouted, but they gave up chasing him as he wandered. He thought he heard someone say something about being 'crazy'.

That evening he stood in the cold back garden staring at the open shed. The doorway was pitch black even though there was enough light coming from the house to see inside. He tried to remember all the things that he should be able to see, the lawn mower, their bikes, a hose, some gardening tools. But he could see nothing. He wondered what was on the other side really. A forest he thought. Lucas had said he came from a forest town and he'd been chasing a big pig. Would the forest be bright and green or dark and scary? Was it winter there too? Lucas had been wearing big furs so he thought it must be. But what he had been thinking about all day in school was what his Dad had said about five worlds. Not just one, but five.

And now he heard his Dad come out of the house, felt him come and stand next to him and they both stood and stared at the shed.

"Can you believe it?" his Dad asked.

"Can you?" he asked and looked up at his Dad. He wasn't sure he could, but if his Dad could...

"Come inside and let me show you a few things."

They walked inside to the study and his Dad sat down at his desk and lifted Dylan onto his lap. Then he opened the big book he had shown Lucas.

"OK, so throughout all the old mythologies; you know what they are?"

"Like a story?"

"Yes, exactly. Throughout them all there are hints and thoughts and stories about the Five Worlds. From Old Norse to ancient Chinese. They were never very big because even back then people thought it was silly, right?"

"OK."

"But this guy, Dr. Fozz..."

"That's a funny name."

"Yeah, it is; anyway, he studied it for years, all the clues, travelled the world and wrote this book. You see a lot of stories and myths never got written down, but they got passed on verbally."

"Verbally?"

"Verbally means speaking. So what Dr. Fozz found was that there are five worlds all connected by portals."

"Like in our shed."

"Exactly, but as people on Earth became more interested in science, medicine and money, they stopped believing in myths and magic and the portal to Earth closed."

"Why?"

"Because something can't exist if no one believes in it. If someone was walking in the forest and they thought they saw a unicorn in the forest, just somewhere in the trees, they wouldn't believe they saw a unicorn, they would believe they saw a horse and the light or the trees made it look like it had a horn. You see?"

"I think so. But why would there be a portal in our shed?"

"I don't know. But we have to be careful; we can't go through the portal, OK?"

"OK."

"Really."

"OK, OK."

"And we have to be careful; we don't know what might come out. Remember the pig?"

"Yeah, that was scary."

"Right."

"Do you think Lucas will come back?"

"I don't know. I think so, but I didn't really understand what he was talking about before he left, I need to read more now, OK?"

"Yeah."

His Dad put him down and turned him so they were looking into each other's eyes.

"Don't go near the portal. We wait for Lucas, OK?"

"Yes, Dad," he turned to leave. "Can I at least go out and look at it?"

His Dad smiled.

"If I said no, you would sneak out anyway," he got up and found a metal poker from the fireplace that had never been used. "If you do, keep this with you in case another animal comes out. And then shout for me," he smiled and Dylan smiled back.

## Southern Hunter

PROLOGUE

It has been said that only ten percent of the Bush remains in Australia since Westerners arrived, but it still covers vast tracts of land. Enough that each year, even in this day and age, people get lost and some die. There is still Bushland that isn't crisscrossed with roads or tracks; areas that no one goes in where undiscovered flora and fauna are living and dying in the circle of life. And it is on such a part of thick Bushland in the South West of that great country that two men find themselves.

"Was this worth the boats?" the man asked sitting in a small area where the undergrowth was sparse enough to set up a little camp.

"It's just for now," his companion answered. "We're illegal, we can't expect a job in a nice office in Perth, can we?"

"No, but this? This, what do they call it?" he raised his arms to the trees.

"Bush."

"I mean we're in the middle of nowhere, no roads, no people. And you hear stuff about Australia, all the dangerous creatures."

"Snakes and spiders are more scared of us than we are of them," the other man said.

"Not when we're asleep. The Sun will set soon and then what? Kangaroos, crocodiles."

His companion laughed.

"One, kangaroos are not dangerous and two there are no crocodiles this far South."

"I still don't like having to sleep out here."

"Well it's just a few more nights. We've marked the trees and surveyed the land, tomorrow we'll start hiking to that track and get picked up. We'll be paid more money for this than we've ever been back home."

They both sat there around the small fire as the Sun sank to the tops of the trees.

"Do you miss it?"

"What?"

"Home."

"We haven't been here long enough to."

"I do," the man shrugged. "This country doesn't smell right, and it's all so, I don't know, neat and tidy?"

The other laughed again.

"It's the food, Australians eat pies and chips and drink beer. They don't cook like us, they don't live like us; you'll get used to it."

"I guess," he said and looked out into the darkening Bush.

He didn't really know what would happen. They had paid a lot of money to get here on a boat and he was glad they were one of the lucky ones, lucky not to die, lucky to land without being caught. He'd rather die than go to a detention centre.

Then they'd been moved around, from here to there, all the while disorientated by their new surroundings and finally he and his friend had been taken to a mining company.

They'd done odd jobs for awhile, they were told they would work on a mine, but couldn't fly there, so they had to wait for a chance to be driven. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of a mine you had to fly to, it would have to be in the middle of nowhere, out in what the Australians called the Outback. It would not be comfortable living, but he had to think of the money, and his family back home who would receive most of it.

But instead they'd been taken south to a small town in the hills. It was surrounded by trees, Bush as they called it, and the company wanted them to look at a certain area, mark trees for cutting down so that a road could be cleared. Survey the area where they could to work out the best place for crews to come in and clear land. They were digging a new mine here or something.

He hated it; every minute of it out in this strange Bush with its strange animals and snakes and spiders. Australia was famous for all the ways it could kill you: the animals, the reptiles, the plants, the sharks, or you could just get lost in Bush like this, it went on for ever, the same in every direction.

Was it worth it? Life was hard back home, hard to have enough, but there was television. Television that told you of all the things you could have, _should_ have. The West taught the rest of the World one thing, that you should own more things. More things meant more happiness and where once people had been content with their traditions, now they were unhappy and poor.

Yes, he was the same; that was why he was here. He wanted a good life for his family, he wanted good schooling for his children, but that was never going to happen tending bar to tourists back home. He had to do this for them, he had to remember that. There was a reason for this and maybe, maybe he could get legal, somehow bring his family here; have a good job.

But for now he was stuck in this _Bush_.

"It's not so bad," his friend said.

"What isn't?"

"This. No distractions, no noise, no complaining wife or begging children, just peace and quiet. And we get paid for it," he relaxed out on his swag.

"I miss them," the man said morosely.

"What is it they say here about glasses being half empty?"

"I don't know what you're talking about; do you really not miss them?"

His friend sat up angrily.

"Why do you think I'm here? For my family, to give them a better life. Of course I miss them, but I know that because I do this they _will_ have a better life."

"I'm sorry," the man said.

The Bush stirred behind him and he looked back sharply.

"Relax."

"What was that?"

"Who knows? We're in a forest."

"What's out there?"

"Nothing that can hurt you."

"That's not true."

"Not this again. Snakes and spiders aren't going to come here and once you're in your, what are they called?"

"Swag."

"Right. It covers you completely, nothing can get to you."

Noise came from the darkening Bush again.

"And that?"

"Wind? A kangaroo? Who knows, but it won't bother us, it's not like they have tigers here."

"No, you're right, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just worried."

"There's nothing out here."

"Not that. I mean this job is nearly over, what if they drop us?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we're illegal. We don't have any rights here."

"I don't know, I try not to think of it."

The Sun sank below the tree tops and the spaces between the trees went from bright and beautiful to dark and ominous. Those creatures that lived by the light began to scurry home as those night hunters awoke and readied themselves. Kookaburras flew and called to each other in their distinctive monkey-like laugh. One began to wind up as others joined it until the trees around the men were full of the laughter of the birds, as if mocking the men their fate.

"I'll never get used to that sound," the man said.

"I can't believe they are birds and not monkeys," the other agreed as the birds fell silent as one.

There was a crash in the Bush and the man looked that way.

"Just a tree falling."

"You've an answer for everything."

"Did you never camp back home? Forests make noises."

"I preferred the comforts of the city," the man complained.

The Bush was silent as if waiting to see what might happen next. The man turned back and began to get into his swag, a sleeping bag with a semicircular tent pole at the head so that the person could be completely enclosed. And that was what he wanted now, to be enclosed, shut off from the world and whatever might be out there in the dark.

The Bush rustled and twigs snapped. Something else cracked, a branch maybe and he was sitting up again peering around in the last of the light.

"It's big," he said and saw that his friend was also sitting up.

"Yeah. There are some big kangaroos, maybe we should make a noise to scare it off?"

"Yeah, OK," he replied, though the last thing he wanted to do was make noise out here. It was irrational, he knew, but that wasn't going to take the fear away.

His friend whooped and he cringed before shouting out himself.

They listened. There was not a noise, not the sound of something coming nor something running away.

And then the whole Bush around their little clearing shook and thrashed and he couldn't believe his eyes as a giant head, mouth open, hundreds of razor sharp teeth, burst out of the dark trees and grabbed his friend. His head disappeared into the gaping mouth and it bit into his chest. Two clawed hands appeared and grabbed his friend, tearing him in two. Blood sprayed and poured as the beast flicked its head up to swallow his friend's torso.

He shrieked, struggling up out of his swag, hands up and forward to protect him, as if that would help.

No one knows we're here, no one will ever know or care. We're illegal, was his last thought as he staggered backwards and the giant beast leapt forward and sunk its giant claws into his chest.

The Haunting of Berkeley Square

PROLOGUE - 1840

It is a cold night in London, the fog hugs the streets and wise people stay inside enjoying warm fires and families.

Others find themselves enjoying ale and friendship in any one of the city's many pubs. It is in one of these, in the Holborn area, that Sir Robert Warboys and his two friends sit drinking.

"And do you believe it?" Jeffery Anderson asks him.

"Of course, I don't," Sir Robert replies taking a large swallow of beer. "Merely native myth."

"I know of a story closer to home," Michael Roberts tells them leaning in. "That of Berkeley Square."

"The Thing?" Anderson asks and Roberts nods.

"They say that a man, a Mr. Dupres, lived there and his younger brother had gone mad, perhaps from war, violently mad," Roberts takes a sip.

"Get on with it, man," Warboys tells him.

"Well, he took over charge of his brother and had to lock him in the utmost room. They could not but let him out so they fed him through a hole in the door. Poor chap died in there, some say from lack of eating, others say he tore himself apart over many years. Fingers off, then toes," Roberts shudders at the thought.

"It is entirely plausible," Warboys offers, "but what is the point of this yarn?"

"They say," Anderson joins, "that it has been haunted ever since, perhaps even before. Neighbours tell of strange noises as if things are being dragged along corridors or down stairs, of doors banging and the signal bells ringing though no one lives there."

"Oh, what unadulterated poppycock," snorts Warboys. "You two are young and foolish, hiding behind your mother's skirts rather than adventuring."

"Fine, you go and stay in that upper room, the haunted room, see how brave you are," Anderson challenges angrily.

"My dear boy, I am merely twenty years of age and I need not tell you the things I have seen and done. You think I believe in ghosts? I don't, but I believe in money."

"One hundred guineas," Roberts says for his pride is equally hurt.

"Then I wholeheartedly accept your preposterous harebrained challenge!" Warboys raises his flagon of ale into the air with a grin full of gusto.

They pay for their beers and stumble out into the street. The cold air hits them and Anderson realises quite how drunk he has become and wonders briefly whether this was a good idea after all.

They reach Berkeley Square as the lamps are being lit and find the house. It is tall and adjoined to those each side. The square is quite lovely and upmarket except for this house, this house has seen a much better day and is in good need of a clean and paint. Anderson shudders, not for the cold, but for the truth. Why else would no one want to buy and live in such a luxuriant square in the heart of London?

After knocking a man opens the door. He is a tall, thin man with greyish skin, but black, black hair.

"Are you the owner of this property?" Sir Robert asks. He has sobered up somewhat, but is still drunk enough to be belligerent. Even sober he is quite belligerent, but it has got him so far so young that he sees nothing to change.

"No, sir, I am but the landlord of the residence."

"And no one lives here?"

"No, sir."

"Very well then, I would like to sleep in your upper room for the night."

"That is not a good idea, sir."

"Why? Because it is haunted?" Warboys laughs.

"Because it is not a good idea," the man merely replies.

"Come, let us go, this was a foolish idea," Anderson tries.

"Hush," replies Sir Robert. "Look, my good man, there is no such thing as ghosts and this is your chance to prove it. Maybe sell it on.

"Plus I will give you a nights rent and some pounds to do the place up, it is in a dreadful state."

"Very well, sir, it is you not I that will be sleeping there," the landlord says and steps aside.

They walk into the front room which is cosy enough and the landlord wanders off.

"Very well," Roberts says. "If we are doing this then we will do it right. You will ring the service bell once if you see anything and we will come and see it as well. You will ring it twice if you need help."

"This is nonsense; do not come on the first bell as you might scare the spirit off. But I will ring it if I see something, which I will not because I will be fast asleep."

"Take this with you," the Landlord says re-entering.

"What is this? A pistol? I need not a pistol for sleep, my good man."

"There will be no staying up there tonight nor any night if you take it not."

"Very well," sighs Sir Robert and takes the pistol. "Good night, gentlemen."

With that he and the landlord take to the stairs while Jeffery Anderson and Michael Roberts take chairs.

The landlord joins them and they talk about the area, about how London is growing and the price of properties. Until forty-five minutes past the stroke of twelve when they hear the tinkling of a service bell in the kitchen.

"He sees something," Anderson jumps from his chair.

"Or he is jesting with us," Roberts replies sleepily.

"Come let us look," Anderson says and so the three walk out to the bottom of the stairs.

As they get there the service bell rings twice and then starts ringing continuously. The three men run up the stairs, (the bell falls silent) to the landing and up to the next floor. As they reach the third and top floor a gunshot rings out from the front room and they speed up, slamming the door wide open.

Sitting wedged into the corner of the room sits Sir Robert Warboys, gun in one hand, the bell pull, ripped from the ceiling, in the other. His lips are pulled back in a rictus of terror and eyes popped out so that they dangle upon his cheeks.

His friends run to him and the landlord looks across the room to see what he had fired at. There is merely a bullet lodged in the wall.

Sir Robert Warboys is quite dead.

Dead from terror.

WELCOME TO THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSES

WHAT IS THE LIBRARY?

The Library was built at the centre of the Multiverse and contains histories, biographies, treaties and stories from all the Universes. Particularly those involving the likes of the Righteous, the King Imminent and those that play their parts in this wider story such as the Ten Kingdoms and the Five Worlds.

Read the book sand you will find clues and truths of this greater story within them. But beware that you don't' gain too much knowledge as knowledge is power and power gets you noticed by dark and terrible beings.

THE BOOKS

Each book is written to be read as a single story (or series), but there are overlaps so that the more books you read the more information you build of other stories.

Not only that, but they gradually build a bigger picture, a meta-narrative, a greater tale of good vs evil.

Find them at Smashwords and other online retailers

FACEBOOK

Join the fun at:

www.facebook.com/dangerous.w

or get news, updates and message the author at:

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THE VIDEOS

"Extracts with Dangerous" is a series of (comedic) videos where the author reads extracts from his books as well as poems, songs and how to tie a bowtie.

Have a watch here:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC5_wfTGLScjma4IxmF9nB0A

TWITTER

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