God Killer

'What the devil are you doing here, Charles? I wouldn't have thought this Hellfire nonsense was in your line.'

'It isn't,' said Buchan. 'But it may have a connection with a case I'm working on for the Squad. And what do you mean by calling it nonsense? I thought you were one of the people running the Club.'

Hightower shrugged. 'It's amusing. And interesting, sometimes. But I don't get carried away with it, like some people I could mention. I might have known it would take something like this to bring you back here.' Hightower looked at him steadily. 'It's been a long time, Charles. Too long.'

Buchan smiled. 'Not everyone would agree with you, Louis. I don't go where I'm not welcome. I have that much pride left.'

'You're always welcome in my home, Charles. You know that.'

'Yes. But my presence in your house would do you no good at all. People would talk.'

'Let them. You think I care more about my reputation than my friends?'

'You have a position to maintain now,' said Buchan firmly. 'You're not just a second son any longer. You're the Hightower, the head of the Family. You have responsibilities to them now, as well as yourself. And to whatever poor woman you eventually decide to marry. You shouldn't even be talking to me, really.'

'As head of the Family, I do have some authority. People may mutter, but they won't say anything. Not in public. It's good to see you again, Charles. I saw your mother last week. She's looking well. Are they still not talking to you?'

'As far as I know. I haven't been back there in a while, either. As far as they're concerned, I don't exist. And perhaps that's for the best.'

'Are you still… ?'

'Visiting the Sisters? Yes.'

'They'll destroy you, Charles. They destroy all their victims, in the end.' Hightower took in Buchan's face, and raised a hand defensively. 'All right, I know. You don't want to talk about it. And I can't ask you about the case you're working on, because you never talk about that, either. Is there anything you do feel free to discuss?'

'I was sorry to hear about your parents, Louis. It must have been a shock.'

'Yes, it was. The funny thing is, I'd been expecting my father's death for some time. He'd been looking old and tired ever since Paul was murdered. You never knew my brother, did you? He was a good sort, and always too brave for his own good. Father thought the world of him. He took Paul's death hard.

'He hated being retired, too. Didn't know what to do with himself after he left the army. Dabbled in politics for a while, but… I was out of town when he and mother died, on maneuvers. I miss them, you know. Every day there's something that makes me think I'd better ask Dad about that, or I wonder what Mother would say… and then I remember, and the day seems a little colder. I miss them, Charles. I really miss them.'

'You ought to get married,' said Buchan firmly. 'It's not sensible, you and the servants rattling around in this huge old place by yourself. Get yourself a wife and fill the place with children. Do you a world of good.'

Hightower laughed. 'Just like the rest of my Family. Can't wait to see me safely married and settled down. I always said I'd only marry for love, Charles; never just for duty. You can understand that, can't you?'

'Yes,' said Buchan. 'I understand.'

They stood together a moment, wanting to say more, but not sure how. They'd pretty much exhausted the few things they still had in common, and what remained of their lives now was separated by a gulf neither of them could cross.

'So,' said Hightower finally. 'Is there anything you can tell me about the God Squad business that brings you here?'

'You've heard about the God murders, I take it? Well, my associates turned up a lead that suggested there may be a connection between the Hellfire Club and the killings.'

'I don't see how,' said Hightower. 'It's all a lark, nothing more. Just another excuse for a party. The rituals are fun, but no one seriously expects anything to come of them. Well, most of us don't, anyway. There are always a few idiots. But most of the Club are only here to annoy their Families. A sign of rebellion, without having to risk anything that matters.'

'What got you involved?' said Buchan. 'I wouldn't have thought this was your kind of thing.'

'It isn't. But there are a great many young ladies who are interested, so…'

Buchan laughed. 'I might have known. Is it true most of your rituals take place in the nude?'

'Quite a few of them, yes.' Hightower grinned. 'And that's not all we do in the rituals that our Families wouldn't approve of.'

They laughed together, and then the double doors burst open and a sudden silence fell across the room as everyone turned to look.

The Dark Man stood in the doorway. Blood splashed his shapeless furs and dripped thickly from both ends of the long wooden staff in his hands. He was grinning broadly, and his eyes were fixed and wild. He looked slowly round the crowded ballroom, and the Quality fell back before his unwavering gaze. Death and violence hung around him like a shroud. In the silence that greeted his arrival they could hear voices moaning and crying out in pain from the corridor outside. Hawk and Fisher pushed their way through the crowd toward him, blades at the ready.

A man-at-arms appeared behind the Dark Man. Bruised and bleeding heavily, he nevertheless flung himself at the Dark Man and tried to get a choke hold on him. They staggered back and forth for a moment, and then the Dark Man twisted suddenly and threw the man-at-arms over his shoulder. He hit the floor hard and lay still, groaning quietly. The Dark Man raised his staff and brought it sweeping down with vicious force, striking his victim again and again and again. Blood flew and bones shattered. The limp body jumped and jerked under the rain of blows, even after the man was clearly dead.

There were stifled screams and moans of horror from the Quality, and a few of the braver men moved forward. Hawk yelled for them to stay back. The Dark Man slowly raised his head and grinned at those advancing on him. There was blood on his face, none of it his. The handful of men slowed to a halt and looked at each other uncertainly.

'Dammit, stay where you are!' yelled Hawk, his voice cutting across the rising babble. 'He's too dangerous! I'm city Guard. My partner and I will take care of him.'

The Quality moved quickly to get out of the Guards' way. The Dark Man grinned bloodily and threw himself at those still between him and his intended victims. He struck out furiously with his staff, not caring who he hit, and men and women alike fell to the polished floor with broken heads and stove-in ribs. The Quality began screaming again, and fought each other in their panic to get out of the Dark Man's way as he headed toward Hawk and Fisher. A handful of men threw themselves at the killer, but he shrugged them off easily, not even feeling their fists. One of them grabbed at the Dark Man's leg from the floor. Without looking down, the Dark Man kicked the man free, and then stamped viciously on his chest. The man lay still, and the Dark Man moved on. The rest of the Quality hung back. It would have been different if they'd had weapons, but wearing weapons in a friend's house wasn't done. So they'd all left their swords at the door.

And then finally Hawk and Fisher reached the Dark Man, and his grin widened. He threw himself forward, swinging his staff in a powerful horizontal arc. Fisher ducked under it and ran the Dark Man through, her sword blade grating between his ribs. His grin never wavered, and he struck at her arm with his staff. Fisher's hand went numb and she had to jump back, leaving her sword wedged in the Dark Man's ribs. Blood ran thickly down his sides, but he took no notice of it, his eyes following Fisher as she backed away.

Hawk stepped in and swung his axe from the killer's blind side. The Dark Man spun round at the last moment and parried the blow with his staff. The impact almost wrenched the axe from Hawk's hand. The two men circled each other warily, searching for an opening. Hawk felt a sudden chill rush through him, as he realized the Dark Man was a better fighter now than he had been the first few times they'd met. It was as though he was learning with each new fight, each new death… as though each new Dark Man was the same man…

What the hell am I fighting here?

He misjudged a blow with his axe, and the end of the staff clipped him just above the ear in passing. The world rocked around him for an instant, and the Dark Man pressed forward. Hawk backed away quickly, holding onto his axe more by instinct than anything else. The Dark Man swung his staff, and Hawk ducked at the last moment. He stumbled, off balance, and looked up just in time to see the staff coming round on the backswing for a blow that