Michael

twenty-three

Passage taken from the New International Translation of the Bible.

▫▪▫

"I heard a rumour you'd absconded," said John Paul Sauvage to his master. "I wondered if perhaps you were becoming tired of your confinement."

The query was brushed aside. "It was only for a day or two: a short busman's holiday. Indulgent of me given the delicacy of the current time, but I enjoyed myself."

Sauvage caught the hint to drop the topic. "I've been busy too," he said with a tight smile. "Lady Stanley has been forced to step aside, and the Privy Council has elected me as Special Commissioner." The smile widened. "My 'supposed' remit is to control the increased threat from the old quarter. More importantly, however, I now have the power to order an invasion, as well as implement a curfew for the entire quadrant."

The chubby, deceptively-young face lit up with pleasure. "Oh yeah. That'll go down well with the vampires: early bedtime and a grounding all in one." This was said with mild sarcasm and strong amusement. He gave a rusty laugh. "Get creative on what you expect to achieve and how you plan to achieve it, then leak the details to the press. Give the demons plenty of time to work up a head of steam before the troops arrive, should make for a warmer welcome."

"Do you have any suggestions for this creativity drive?"

"You hit the nail on the head in that council meeting. I really liked the bit about the wheat and the chaff, that was a good one. Using scripture as a rallying cry should raise some blood pressures in the OQ. The lancing and cleansing bit was another solid comment. Try polishing up the victims too. Make 'em seem like they were a hairsbreadth from being bloody saints. Publish the autopsy photos. Stir things up."

"You make it sound as if we're going on a crusade."

"Exactly. A crusade against the demons, 'the blight on our society'. Love it. I can see the headlines now. Make it happen, my friend."

Sauvage had to take several surreptitious breaths before he could speak, "Certainly...and what do I get for all my efforts?"

The round face tilted, surprise was feigned in over-bright eyes. "What's this? Are you not enjoying yourself, beloved?"

Sauvage felt his innards tighten with anticipation. He always felt this way when that rough English accent smoothed out, taking on an older, finer rhythm of speech. He knew what it heralded. "I'm entertained, of course," he managed to respond, "but I had expected more of you."

"Expectations will be the death of you, John. I had expectations once," Delicate hands were spread to indicate the condition he now faced, "and look what happened to me. We're alike in so many ways, you and I." He stood, not taking his gaze from his servant. "We neither of us fit in. We want what we shouldn't and our consciences are as silent as the grave, doubly condemning us. You require constant stimulation in order to feelsomething, while I crave fear and reverence." He shook his head with mock sadness. "We're both of us abominations, John, and cast away like filth."

Sauvage tilted back his head as the other man approached on cat-like, silent feet. The guards would not come to investigate any screams, not to this cell. Even the dimmest of them could sense this prisoner was bad for their health in ways far beyond the physical. He knew no answer was required. Sauvage had his orders and this was his reward. He had to swallow a whimper when his vision was utterly eclipsed by a smile that was evil incarnate.

The first wave of pain was exquisitely drawn out.

▫▪▫

Cabrera was not a nervous man. He didn't scare or intimidate easily. Even so, the steady rise in tension inside the abbey began to get to him as night closed in. Would Thane see the broadcast and get the message? It was a question never far from their minds, or their conversation, along with a variety of scenarios featuring his possible reaction to their presence in his home.