Absolution Black: Book 3

[Absolution Black]

Book 3, Part 1.

(It is best to read Book 1, 2 and then both interludes before this book, to understand it better!)

It was almost three hours since Black had left them in the safe-house, the bolt-hole that he ran to when his main residence was compromised. And it had certainly been compromised, the Guild still performing a ‘clean up’ operation after the earlier incident.

Lydia sat back in the tall chair, letting her hands rest on the arms to prevent her from rubbing them together nervously. She watched as Abernathy just seemed to go about his business as if nothing was different. I guess he’s seen this kind of thing all before, she thought, and chided herself for feeling so skittish.

She had begun to feel a chill since Black had left, as if an unearthly presence had enveloped her in it’s grasp, yet she couldn’t determine what this meant. She smiled at Abernathy as he walked past, folding a large travelling cloak and placing it into the battered case lying on the small bed. The candle flickered in a breeze that came from nowhere, and then the pain started.

Lydia doubled over and fell to the floor. At once Abernathy was at her side, rolling her over so he could see her face. She couldn’t focus on him at all, her vision hazy and the candle light blinding. She threw her head back hard and screamed, yet no sound escaped her lips. She could feel Abernathy’s hands on her as he sought to loosen the tunic about her throat, her breathing coming hard and shallow. Her sight clouded over once more and she drifted into unconsciousness, and into a nightmare she knew all too well.

She came to with a start, her lungs pulling in air with a drawn out gasp. She sat upright clutching her chest, sweat making her clothes cling to her skin. Abernathy was there, concern etched on his face. She tried her best to smile and must have managed it, as Abernathy gave her a weak smile back.

“How long was I out?”. She coughed as her lungs drew in air too fast.

“Only a few seconds ma’am, though you certainly put the frighteners on this old man!”.

She grasped his offered hand as she pulled herself to her feet, her legs still a little groggy. Recollection of her vision came flooding back to her then and she buttoned up her tunic, grabbing a cloak from the chair. She pushed the blade Black had given her into the waistband of her breeches. Abernathy moved to block her path as she strode towards the door.

“I can’t let you go ma’am” he apologised, “Black said to wait for his return, no matter what”.

She pushed the older man aside and opened the door, pausing only to explain.

“If I don’t go now, he won’t be coming back at all”.

And with a slam of the door she was gone.

She reached the bridge just as the coach began to cross it, swerving madly. She saw the footman fall from the top and then get crushed beneath the wheels, causing the carriage to lurch dangerously. To her horror, she saw and heard the yokes and harnesses snap loose from the coach. As if in slow motion, the carriage flipped over onto its roof and crashed through the low wall, tumbling over out of sight.

She ran hard, her lungs almost bursting, until she stood at the broken barrier. She looked down into the roiling waters below, the coach having sunk out of sight. She glanced around, noticing the horses further down the cobbled road. It was happening exactly like in her dreams. Only this time she knew what to do.

Closing her eyes she outstretched her arms and concentrated hard, visualising the coach. With that image in her mind she began to draw it to her, wishing the coach to be back on the bridge, needing it to be. The strain began to show on her face as droplets of sweat formed and then trickled into her eyes. Lydia didn’t notice the horses crashing to the ground, their skin and muscles withering from their bones, blowing like flakes of black snow in the breeze. She didn’t hear the birds falling from the sky, a mass of bleached bones and feathers peppering the cobbles.

She didn’t notice the unfortunate couple taking a romantic stroll along the bridge, never saw them turn to face each other in horror as they watched their faces shrivel and then fall from their silently screaming skulls, before they collapsed to the ground in a plume of dust.

Then the coach was beside her on the cobbles, water pouring from the broken doors, splashing to the ground around her feet. She made her way slowly towards the dark holes, unsure of what she might find within. Taking a deep breath she looked inside the cabin, recoiling slightly as she saw the bodies of her dead husband and his brother. Yet of Black there was no sign.

Black came around slowly, coughing and spluttering, retching the cold water from his lungs. It was dark and he had no idea where he was. He could feel wet earth beneath his hands, cold wet earth. He reached up and his fingers hit solid rock. No, not rock, it was too smooth. He realised it was piping as it had a curved shape and he cursed. He was in a storm drain somewhere near the river bank.

He remembered banging his head whilst trying to escape the falling coach and then hitting the icy water. The impact had stolen the breath from his lungs, and then he was swallowed into the water’s deathly embrace. He recalled struggling to free his leg from under the wooden seat, flailing madly as the lack of air in his lungs made them burn, fit to burst.

Somehow he must have got free and washed up on the banks of the river. He could be anywhere now, though he was confident he was still within the confines of the city, due to the wll built drain he found himself in. His hearing had been deadened, probably due to pressure from holding his breath for so long, and it disturbed him to be so disoriented.

He felt a cool breeze from in front of him and reasoned the river must be that direction. He began to feel his way forward, tracing his fingers along the edge of the tunnel. He heard a scraping noise from behind him and a sickly voice broke the silence.

“Uh-uh, my friend. You’re not getting away from me. My master will pay good money for a specimen like you”.

And then he felt the needle plunge into his leg, and instantly the cold numbness spread throughout his body as he slumped to the floor. The last thing he felt before slipping into unconsciousness was his body being dragged along the cold, wet earth.

Edited March 24, 2011 by Absolution Black

[xxXhayzelXxx]

oh no!!!

[Absolution Black]

I assume that meant you liked it! Or was it 'oh no' because it sucked lol!

Hope to get the next part up soon, before the ideas I have escape me!

[Dark Alleycat]

Awesome as allways.

[Absolution Black]

PART 2

The cellar smelt of damp and mould. A faint light streamed in from a small grill set high on the wall opposite, that allowed Black to see his surroundings. His arms and legs still felt heavy, a result of whatever drug had ravaged his system. As he forced himself to get up he found his legs were shackled to the floor by solid metal restraints around his ankles. Although the chains were rusted and old, they still held firm against his efforts.

Looking around he saw that he was alone in the cell. It had thick stone walls that in places were covered with a thin layer of moss where water had trickled across the rock over many years, he suspected. He could hear the sound of running water through the grill and deduced that he was still near the river. Well, a river at least. The floor was covered with old dirty straw and one corner had obviously been used as a latrine by the cells previous occupants.

A large wooden door, typical of the sort found in the Guild Gaol houses seemed to be the only way in and out of the small room. Feeling the muscles in his legs returning to normal he stood up completely, leaning against the wall at his back for support. He found the ceiling was too low for him to stand completely upright and, though the chains afforded him some degree of movement, they pulled him up agonisingly short of the rusted grill.

Hearing footsteps from a corridor behind the wall, he turned to face the door, listening hard to determine the locks and bolts that held it shut as they were opened one by one. He saw the door slowly open outwards and the tip of a revolver slide through the widening gap.

“Stay over there whilst I open the door” the voice said and Black recognised it as the man who had attacked him in the storm drain.

Black leant against the wall, slipping down to squat on his haunches, opening his hands wide in a gesture of compliance.

The door opened fully and the man entered, still waving the gun – Black noted it was his gun - as he stepped into view. He was a squat, fat man in bad need of both a bath and a shave. He wore dirty clothes that suggested he spent the majority of his life down here in the underground. He dragged a thin, shuffling man hidden by a shawl into the cell, before chaining him to the floor. With a last flourish of the gun, the fat man backed out of the cell and slammed the door behind him, locking it swiftly.

The newcomer collapsed onto the filthy bed of straw almost immediately. The large shawl that covered his head was dirty and stained with blood. Some of it fresh, Black noted. He waited for a few seconds before he painfully made his way across the cell to the prone man.

Lydia was suffering conflicted emotions as she sat in the Downtown Inn waiting for the man to arrive. She felt glad that she was finally free from the clutches of the Dometellis, that her life was now her own. Yet she needed to know what had happened to Black. His body hadn’t been in the coach, and she had tried to ‘wish’ him out of the water for several minutes afterwards, but her failure to do so told her two things: that he was out of range of her influence, meaning he had more than likely been washed further downstream. The only question was whether he had been alive when this had happened.

She couldn’t explain it but she had a feeling he was still alive, a connection. She had run swiftly away from the scene when she had noticed the horses, birds and the unfortunate couple. She had long realised that her gifts had unfortunate side effects on those around her. The Dometellis had made her do unspeakable things, abused her powers for their gain. She shook her head to forget the memories, if only for a while. She knew that everytime she used her gift, the power needed to perform the action had to be channelled from elsewhere. Unfortunately this leeched the lifeforce of anything within range, quickly ageing and destroying whatever it touched, including her father.

She jumped suddenly as a large tankard thumped down on the table and a Guild officer sat down opposite her. She recognised him as the man from Black’s house the previous day. He opened a pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth before gesturing to offer her one. She shook her head and watched him light the end after several failed attempts and curses. He took a long drag, then a swig of ale from the tankard, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

“Lydia, I presume?” he enquired, leaning back in the rickety wooden chair.

She nodded, unsure as to how this was going to go.

“Captain Knoffler at your humble service ma’am” he said, not without a hint of sarcasm, before tilting his hat slightly.

“Abernathy tells me ol’ Blackie has got himself lost”.

She nodded, and quickly explained the situation to him, leaving out the parts that involved her powers. He just sat and listened, smoking the cigarette to the butt and swilling the remainder of his beer. When she had finished he smiled across at her.

“Well, that tallies with what Abernathy tells me. I’d hoped it would. Now, I’m not going to ask how a coach that had disappeared into the river suddenly appears back on the bridge. I kind of think I won’t like the answer. And I took the liberty of having a stroll along the riverbank for myself before coming here”.

“Did you find anything?” She leant forward, hope appearing on her face.

He leant forward too, until they were no more than a foot apart, before he spoke in a low voice.

“I think he’s been taken. By who, I don’t know. Where, I don’t know either, but one of the storm drains had signs of something being dragged across the earth outside”.

She stood up, pulling her jacket on over her tunic. He looked up at her enquiringly.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” she scolded.

“I knew you’d say that” he smiled, “ that’s why I have a wagon waiting outside!”

As Black touched the man on the shoulder, the stranger jerked back in fear, his eyes wide and bulging. His features were drawn and his cheek bones were prominent through his skin. It was obvious he was malnourished and dehydrated. As the man scrabbled backwards awkwardly, the shawl fell open. To Black’s horror, he saw that the man’s lower left arm had been amputated, leaving a crudely stitched wound that had begun to fester.

The man leaned forward grabbing at Black’s arm with his good hand.

“Help me” he wheezed, “ You have to get us both out of here, now”.

“Who owns this place?” Black asked.

“ A madman. A madman. He did this to me” the man raised his deformed arm, “He tortures us, the others before me. He takes us apart, piece by piece to use in his experiments”.

The man broke into deep sobs and slumped onto the floor as he remembered his ordeal.

Black cursed to himself, realising exactly what danger he found himself in. He was in the clutches of a Resser. A damn, filthy Resser….

[Dark Alleycat]

Oh sure blame it all on the ressers *grins*

Awesome story Black,keep it up.

[Absolution Black]

Oh sure blame it all on the ressers *grins*

Awesome story Black,keep it up.

Lol, yeah you ressers are such easy targets though. I mean, look at who you hang around with!

Glad you like it, two more parts to come (sometime!). I haven't decided whether to keep the resser as a recurring character yet (even though we haven't actually 'met' him yet).....hmmmm, we shall see.

[Absolution Black]

Part 3

Lydia sat in silence as the wagon rolled through the streets of Malifaux, on the way to the riverbank. Opposite her, Captain Knoffler took a drag from his cigarette blowing the smoke into the air in neat little rings. She waved her hand to waft the plumes away, frowning at the guardsman as she did so. He just smiled back. They were not alone in the back of the wagon. Three other Guardsmen sat on the hard wooden benches, faces set in grim expressions. This didn’t help Lydia’s worry: did they know something that she didn’t. Captain Knoffler obviously expected trouble otherwise he wouldn’t have brought back up. Well-armed back up she noticed.

Rain began to fall hard, the drops smacking against the wooden roof of the coach as they felt it pull to a halt. She heard the footman jump off from the top and then the door was opened. Sheets of rain obscured most details but through the gap she could see the river flowing swiftly, grey and formidable. She shivered as she pulled her hood up over her head before stepping out into the downpour. Tiny streams of water ran across the cobbled street as she turned to speak to the captain. Behind her the remaining guardsmen stepped out of the wagon and pulled their hats down low to deflect as much of the rain as they could.

The captain cut her off from speaking with a wave of his hand, before indicating that she should follow him. The small force walked to the low wall bordering the riverbank, the captain vaulting it easily. The other guards followed suit and then it was her turn. She placed a hand on the slick stone and jumped. The riverbank was muddy and she almost lost her footing as she landed, a guard grabbing her arm in a firm grip to keep her upright. She recovered herself, and nodded thanks to the man who just shrugged and turned to follow his comrades.

They reached the storm drain within a few minutes, though now all traces of Black would have been washed away. A steady flow of dirty brown water poured from the tunnel and joined the swelling river on its journey to who knew where. She turned her nose up at the smell as she looked into the gloomy passage, and she heard the Captain stifle a laugh. She shot him a hard glance and his smile straightened. He stepped into the tunnel and lit a lamp he had been carrying under his coat. It shone for a few feet ahead of them, and she grimaced as she saw the large black body of a rat running for the cover of darkness. As the captain walked further inside, the guard next to her indicated she was to go next. She took a deep breath, and entered the passage, her feet ankle deep in the foetid water.

Black paced the floor of his cell impatiently. His captor had come back just a few minutes earlier and dragged the screaming man away with him again. He had tried to intervene but the fat man had pointed his revolver at Black’s forehead and forced him to move away whilst he walked backwards out of the cell and bolted the door behind him. He could hear the man’s protests and begging for several seconds until they faded into the silence.

Now he knew he had to escape and soon. It wouldn’t be long before he became the next experiment on the Resser’s slab. He pulled at the chains holding his ankle to the floor but they wouldn’t give. He tried to slip the restraints over his ankle but it was futile. To slip them off he would have to break the bone and that wouldn’t help him in his escape at all. He strained hard trying to reach the frail looking grill, but agonisingly his fingers just brushed the rusting metal yet nothing more. He even tried calling through the grill in the vain hope that his cries would be heard. But the thundering noise of the swollen river drowned out any chance of a passer by hearing, if they were anywhere a passer by might actually be.

He sat back down against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes. His only chance of escape would come when it was his turn to be led from the cell, yet he believed that wouldn’t happen for some time. His captor would wait until he was weak from starvation before trying anything, or he would be drugged. He was disturbed by the sound of scuffling outside the cell door and as he opened his eyes, he saw an envelope being pushed through the small gap under the door. He stood up and moved over to the small package, stretching his fingertips to grab it and pull it closer. It contained a key. The key to his restraints. Quickly, he slotted the key into the mechanism and sure enough they popped open. He said a silent prayer of thanks and rubbed the life back into his ankles.

Then he noticed a strange symbol on the back of the stained envelope. It was a symbol he recognised and it hit him like a tonne of bricks. It was the symbol of an assassin’s cult from Earthside, the cult his father was an agent of, and in turn himself too. But that wasn’t the most shocking revelation. The symbol was in fact his father’s personal crest.

They had been walking through these tunnels for what seemed like hours but was realistically only a few minutes, and had seen nothing save for rats and litter. The water flow had slowed to a mere trickle now and Lydia realised they must be above the water level now. They had taken a couple of turns along the way, the captain taking a long time to decide on the correct path. Well, she hoped it was the correct path. She was about to say something but the guard next to her grabbed her arm and placed his finger to his lips. He motioned ahead. In the flicker of the lamplight she could make out a shape hunched over in the tunnel, its back to them. Their appearance didn’t seem to make any difference to whoever it was. It looked like it was eating something, the sounds echoing around in the stone passage.

Cautiously they approached the squat figure, getting to within a few feet before it suddenly turned. Lydia gasped in horror as she saw the bloodied form of a rat hanging from its mouth. But that wasn’t what caused her to turn away: it was the dead eyes that scared her, dead eyes in a heavily stitched face.

And then all hell broke loose. Seemingly from out of nowhere more of the grotesque figures appeared, moving surprisingly fast considering they looked half dead. The guards began to let off shots from their revolvers as they formed a protective wall around her. She watched as a bullet sliced through the eye socket of one of the attackers, blowing away a large chunk of its skull. Yet it never faltered, advancing on the small group quickly, it’s mouth grinning wildly. It was then she realised what they were: undead constructs, the work of a resurrectionist. It was also then she realised they were in big trouble.

She drew her hunting blade from her jacket and prepared for the close quarter battle that was surely coming. The guards had succeeded in dropping several of the constructs, the severing of the head from the body the only sure-fire way to stop them. They continued to move along the tunnel, further inside the underground maze, dispatching any of the foul abominations they came across. They lost one of the guardsmen soon after the initial assault, dragged down under a sea of clawed hands, his flesh torn from his bones as he screamed in pain. His suffering was thankfully ended by a bullet to the head from the captain.

The desperate chase continued for what seemed an eternity until the small group burst into a larger cavern lit by daylight from a grill several metres above them. Re-grouping in the centre they waited for the inevitable attack. Yet it never came. Suddenly, everywhere was quiet, the tunnel they had fled down empty save for the faint noises of the retreating ghouls. Catching their breath they checked their weapons and took stock of their surroundings. The cavern was empty save for a further tunnel opposite leading into darkness, and the realisation dawned on Lydia that they had been herded in this direction, like sheep to the slaughter. But for what reason?

Steeling themselves for what dangers lay ahead, they drew their weapons once more, and with the captain holding the lamp in front of them, they stepped into the dark tunnel…….

[Absolution Black]

Part 4 (final part)

Black listened carefully by the door and on hearing nothing, he tentatively pulled the door towards him. He felt it give a little and grabbing his fingernails around the edge he tugged harder. To his surprise the door swung open into the cell, and he quickly slipped into the musty corridor outside. A body lay further down the corridor, a pool of blood forming under it on the cobbled floor. It was the fat gaoler, his throat slit from ear to ear, and he was most definitely dead.

Black rummaged in the big man’s jacket and found his revolver. Checking the cylinders he had four bullets left. He tucked the gun into his waistband hoping that would be enough. Taking a few seconds to get his bearings he began to make his way slowly down the gloomy tunnel, heading in the direction he hoped would lead him to a way out. There was a strong smell of chemicals in the air, and it stung the back of his throat.

He paused when he turned the next corner. Ahead was an open doorway that cast an orange glow into the corridor from the lanterns flickering within. Sounds of someone at work came from the room and Black knew that he had stumbled across the Resurrectionist’s laboratory. He pulled the gun from his waistband and crept softly along the tunnel until he stood next to the open doorway. Looking through he couldn’t see any sign of the resser, and he debated whether to carry on and come back when he was more prepared, or to take out the problem once and for all right now.

His mind was made up for him when he heard the low moan from inside. He hadn’t noticed his companion from the cells at first, but now he saw him. The wretch was strapped to a large slab in the centre of the room, next to a table of bloodied tools and saws. He cursed, realising he owed it to this poor man to at least try and help him. Sometimes Black wished he didn’t have a conscience. He stepped quietly into the room and to his relief it was empty save for the prisoner. Wooden shelves lined the walls of the room, stacked high with glass jars crammed with body parts and organs. The smell of formaldehyde was almost overpowering and Black knew he couldn’t stay in here long.

He began to undo the thick straps that held the man down, then stopped. It was then he realised that even if he could untie the man in time, he wouldn’t be able to get him out. His left leg had been amputated from the knee down and crudely stitched. His right foot hung limply from his ankle, severed almost completely from the leg. It leaked blood from a wound that was not fully treated. Gritting his teeth, Black knew there was only one thing he could do for the wretch now, and that could doom him also. He put the gun to the temple of the drugged man and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the stone, as the skull of the experiment shattered and sent a plume of blood across the slab.

“You shouldn’t have done that”, a deep voice growled from behind him, “I had such plans for him”.

Black spun on his heel, his gun raised to see the resser himself standing in the doorway. In the moment that he took to pull the trigger, he felt his arm gripped tightly and something sharp pierce his skin. The sudden attack pushed his aim off and the bullet pinged off the wall several feet from the watching resser. He turned to see his arm clasped in the jaws of some foul beast, a creation of madness. The head that held him was of a hound of some sort, yet two further heads drooled and lolled as he struggled to break free, one of a bird, the other was once human. The beast stood as tall as a human, though its legs were that of a horse, cloven and covered in shaggy hair. The torso was unmistakeably that of a man, all of the parts sewn together roughly. A green light glowed from behind the eyes of each of the heads, the resser’s power fueling the abomination.

As black crashed to the floor under the weight of the beast, he caught sight of the resser advancing with a crude circular saw held in both hands. He activated the power and the blade began to turn slowly at first, but gradually gaining momentum. The resser moved alongside the struggling pair and raised the saw above his head, his eyes filled with madness. Then the saw began its downward arc…..

Lydia slipped on the damp stone beneath her feet as they ran blindly down the tunnels, stopping every now and then to fire wildly behind them. They had been running for several minutes now and whatever it was that was tracking them had been keeping pace, yet far enough to be out of range. She had seen the glowing eyes as it had struck without warning from a side tunnel, grabbing a guardsman in its massive jaws, before crushing the unfortunate man’s windpipe. They had hardly had time to retaliate before it had disappeared once more into the gloomy darkness. Knoffler cursed, goading them into a run, stopping momentarily to recover the dead man’s guns before following. Sweat poured down their faces due to the stifling heat in the tunnels, and their exertions in evading their hunter.

“It was a Sabretooth” Knoffler panted, “well at least the head was. God knows what else went into the mix before he resurrected it”

“You mean, its not alive!?” Lydia questioned, firing a shot blindly into the darkness behind them.

“Save your ammo girl” Knoffler hissed, “wait until you see it. No, whatever it is, it hasn’t been alive in a long while”.

She swallowed hard, her breathing strained now. They had run down what seemed identical tunnels and they had no idea how far underground they were or if, should they survive this, whether they would ever find their way out. She knew they had to do something soon, before they either collapsed from exhaustion or their ammo ran out. She knew what to do, but she didn’t want to do it. She motioned the other two men to stop. Bending over to get her breath back, she heard the creature stop further back, again just out of sight and reach. She leant in close to Knoffler, whispering in his ear, making sure the other guardsman couldn’t hear.

“I have an idea. But it would mean your man would almost certainly die”.

“This idea” whispered Knoffler, “ I need to know two things: Would it work, and would we get out of here alive?” He motioned to the two of them.

“I don’t know, and if it works then yes, we will get out of here alive, so long as there are no more of those things”.

“Then that’s all I need to know. Tell us what to do”.

“You need to stand back there captain, and when the creature appears make sure you kill it”

She motioned the remaining guardsman to stand next to her. She felt a tear form in her eye as she realised she was murdering this poor man, he was the sacrificial lamb. She turned to face him as she raised her arms, and whispered softly.

“I’m sorry”

Before he could react, she concentrated hard. Wishing the creature was here, before her, in full view of the captain. She felt the guardsman gasp at her side and she knew his skin would be blistering, the black flakes dropping from his bones as he died to fuel her power. She only hoped her influence wouldn’t reach Knoffler otherwise they would all be dead. She felt breath on her face, rancid and dead, and she opened her eyes. The creature’s slobbering maw was inches from her face, its eyes bright with hunger as it padded even closer. She saw the pile of bones and cloth to her side, and then the creature moved.

“Down girl!!”

She heard the shout and dropped to her knees as she heard three shots ring out. Then there was a rush of wind and something heavy slammed into the floor before her. She looked up to see the foul creature collapse onto the tunnel floor, the glow in its eyes dimming, three large bullet wounds between its eyes.

The next minute the captain was at her side, lifting her up. She almost retched as she remembered what she had done, but to his credit, the captain never said a word. He just pulled her up, thrust her gun into her palm and shouted at her to get moving…..

The saw skimmed off the cobbles whining terribly as Black somehow managed to roll the beast over to avoid the blow. He wrenched his bleeding arm free from the jaws and rolled towards the slab in the centre of the room, eyes searching for the resser. He heard the saw a split second before it swung and hit the slab in the space where he had been crouching. Black scrambled for the open ground figuring it may be the safer option. This resser could move fast, inhumanly fast. And the beast was still a danger too, it was scrabbling to stand once more, all it’s heads focused on Black as he lifted himself up to stand.

From the corner of his eye he saw the movement and side-stepped the swinging blade, seeing the resser before somehow he shimmered into nothingness, a blur at the edge of his vision. Something was making him move incredibly fast, some sort of arcane magic no doubt. He knew he had two bullets left, and he had to make them count. The beast was on him in seconds and he wrestled with it once more, his hands frantically trying to keep the snapping heads at bay. He tried to focus on the sound of the saw, knowing that was his only chance at tracking the resser. He heard the whirring close by, and as the sound grew, he span around, using all of his strength to push the beast between himself and the sweeping blade. He heard the metal hit the creature and plumes of blood shot in all directions.

For an instant the blade lodged in the flesh of the beast and the resser became solid once more as he struggled to free it. Black took his chance and let off a shot, but it only grazed the arm of the other man. It was enough to make him release the blade though and make a run for it. With a last effort, Black pushed the floundering creature away from him and swirled the gun around, focusing hard on the blur. He pulled the trigger and hoped. To his dismay, he saw the bullet flake off a shard of stone from the doorway as the resser slipped through, making his escape. Black turned to watch as the beast crashed to the floor, the whirring saw pushed further into its torso, blood and organs liquidated in an instant, spraying the floor with a red mist, before the saw finally ground to a halt.

He wiped the spray from his face and then ran through the door, though he knew he had no chance of catching the resser. He ran straight into the captain, who staggered before Black grabbed him and held him up. To his surprise Lydia threw herself at him, her arms around his neck, her face against his neck. He held her close for a few seconds before they parted. Knoffler simply smiled a knowing look at Black.

“Did you see him?” He asked, looking over their shoulders.

“Who?” She replied, a quizzical look on her face.

“The bastard who did all of this” He snarled, before calming down. “Was there anyone else in the tunnels?”

“No, why should you ask?” Knoffler enquired

Black handed him the envelope with the crest on it. The Captain turned the parchment over in his fingers for a few seconds before he spoke.

“The Cult again? And isn’t this your father’s…..?”

“Yes” Black cut him off. Lydia looked up at him with a questioning look.

“But Isn’t your father supposed to be dead? Surely this means he’s alive, and here?”

“No. He is dead, of that I’m sure” Black replied, as memories flooded into his mind.

“How can you be so sure, especially after finding this?” Lydia indicated the sealed envelope.

“Because I killed him” Black growled……

END OF BOOK 3

[Dark Alleycat]

Dun dun dun!!!!!

spectacular writing as allways black.

[Necromorph]

Damn fine work, Sir.