'There's no need for you to worry. I'll be fine. I know what I'm doing.'
Tomb visibly braced himself to disagree with her. 'I know you have a lot of faith in your potions, Rowan, but I really would be a lot happier if you'd let me call in a doctor, just to look you over and make sure it's nothing serious.'
Rowan glared at him. 'I do not need a doctor. How many times do I have to tell you, Tomb? My health and how I look after myself are none of your business.'
'But I do worry about you.'
'Don't. There's no reason why you should be so concerned. Just because I'm part of the God Squad doesn't give you the right to hover around me like a broody hen. You're an acquaintance of mine. Tomb; nothing more. Is that clear?'
Tomb nodded slowly. 'Yes, Rowan. Very clear.'
'Now, don't go all sulky on me. How long have I got before the Guards get back with Buchan?'
Tomb's face went blank for a moment as he used the Sight. 'They're just approaching the front door. I'd better go down and greet them. If you're sure you're all right now…'
'I'm fine.'
'Then I'll see you in a while.'
He turned and left the room quickly, before she could say anything else. Rowan heaved a quiet but vehement sigh of relief. She knew she shouldn't be so harsh with him, but that damned puppy dog routine of his was getting on her nerves. Always doing her little favors, so she'd have to say something nice to him… She got up off the bed, stripped off her nightgown, and reached for her clothes. She was looking forward to bearing Hawk and Fisher tell about what had happened at the Hellfire Club.
Everyone was back in their favorite chairs in the drawing room. Tomb handed round long, narrow glasses of his syrupy sherry, and everyone except Hawk accepted the wine with a smile. Hawk sat back in his chair and tried not to feel like a barbarian. There was a quiet moment as everyone else sipped at their drinks.
'Let's start with the Hellfire Club,' said Rowan finally. 'What did you think of them, Captain Hawk?'
'A bunch of amateurs, playing with magic and jumping at shadows,' said Hawk bluntly. 'No danger to anyone, except maybe themselves.'
'But did you turn up any connection to the God Killings?' asked Tomb, sitting forward on the edge of his chair, as though anxious not to miss a syllable.
'Not really,' said Fisher. 'But we did come across something interesting. Before we were seconded to you. Hawk and I were investigating the murder of a sorcerer named Bode.' She didn't miss the quickly stifled reactions from Buchan and Rowan at Bode's name, but carried on as though she hadn't noticed. 'We didn't have time to find out who killed him, but we did discover that Bode had been hired by some unknown person to carry out a secret mission on the Street of Gods.'
'Did he succeed in this mission?' said Tomb.
'We don't know,' said Fisher. 'We didn't find any evidence directly linking him to the God Killings, but we did discover that Bode had been experimenting with homunculi; that is, magically produced physical duplicates.'
'Yes, yes,' said Rowan impatiently. 'We all know what a homunculus is.'
Fisher gave Rowan a hard look that didn't faze the mystic a bit, and then continued. 'Somehow, Bode invested one of these duplicates with all his rage and hate, and set it to guard his house against intruders. He called it the Dark Man. It was huge, muscular, and very nasty. It murdered at least four people that we know of. Hawk and I killed it.'
'This is all very interesting,' said Rowan, 'but what has it got to do with the Hellfire Club? Or the God Killings?'
Fisher looked at Hawk to see if he'd like to continue with the story, but he was busy looking for some convenient receptacle into which he could surreptitiously empty his sherry glass. Fisher sighed quietly, and continued. 'On our way back from studying the murder sites of the three dead Beings, we were attacked by a second Dark Man. We killed him. A third Dark Man tried to kill us at the Hellfire Club. We killed that one too.'
For a long moment no one said anything. Tomb was frowning deeply. 'Did you notice any differences between the three homunculi?'
'Yeah,' said Fisher. 'They're getting harder to kill.'
'More than that,' said Hawk, putting down his empty sherry glass. 'They were all unnaturally strong, but the muscular development was different each time. There was no way it could have been the same body… and yet, each time we met, the Dark Man was much harder to deal with. It's as though he learns from his previous mistakes. I think there's one single mind controlling all the homunculi, jumping from body to body. It's also quite possible that there are more Dark Men out there somewhere, waiting for another chance at us.'
The God Squad looked at each other. 'Can you tell us anything about this sorcerer Bode?' said Rowan.
'Well,' said Hawk, 'apart from his having a mysterious mission on the Street of Gods at the same time as the Gods started dying, apparently he also gave Lord Arthur Sinclair the original inspiration for the Hellfire Club. Bode does seem to get around, doesn't he? Did any of you know him?'
Buchan nodded slowly. 'I met him a few times, on the Street of Gods. Seemed a pleasant enough sort, though I never did find out what he was doing on the Street. I haven't seen him for some time.'
'Was this before or after the God Killings began?' said Fisher.
'Before, I think,' said Buchan.
'Did you ever meet his girlfriend?' said Hawk.
Buchan shook his head. 'Didn't know he had one. Is she important?'
'Beats me,' said Hawk. 'Anyone else here know Bode?'
'I met him once or twice,' said Rowan. 'He was asking questions on the Street, so I checked him out, just to see what he was up to. We get all sorts down here, and it pays to be careful. He was a bit vague about what he was doing on the Street, but that's not unusual. He seemed harmless enough, so I let him be.'
'What kind of questions was he asking?' said Fisher.
Rowan shrugged. 'Questions about the Gods. Their powers, their backgrounds, things like that. The usual tourist stuff. And I didn't see any girlfriend, either.'
Hawk sat quietly a moment, letting his thoughts settle. Bode was turning out to be an important link in the case, but they didn't really know anything about him. Perhaps he should contact the Guards in charge of the Bode killing, and have them send over all the papers found in Bode's house. Maybe there was something in them that would shed more light on the sorcerer…
'Assuming all the homunculi have a single mind,' said Tomb slowly, 'the important question must be who is controlling them.'
'Well, Bode, I would assume,' said Rowan. 'After all, the Dark Men are all versions of his own body. Perhaps he knew he was going to die, so he committed suicide and transferred his soul into one of the homunculi. That way he'd be free to continue with his mission. Whatever it is.'
'Suicide?' said Fisher. 'The cause of death was a single stab wound through the heart! If it was suicide, what happened to the knife?'
'That's a good point,' said Buchan. 'But if it isn't Bode, who is it?'
'Presumably the anonymous person who gave him his mission,' said Hawk. 'Whoever it is didn't want to be seen on the Street of Gods in person. Which suggests that somebody would have known him and recognized him.'
'Or her,' said Fisher. 'Remember the girlfriend? That could have been our unknown person, emerging briefly from the shadows to give Bode new orders.'
'This is getting complicated,' said Buchan. 'If we assume the Dark Men aren't really Bode, why are they still after Hawk and Fisher?'
'Because we're dangerous,' said Hawk. 'We're getting closer to the truth, and the Dark Man knows it.'
'Wait a minute,' said Tomb. 'We're overlooking something important. Did I understand you to say that the sorcerer Bode was killed in his own house? Why didn't his magic protect him?'
'Good question,' said Hawk. 'We don't know. When we got there, there was no trace of magic anywhere in the house; no wards, no booby traps, nothing.'
'That's insane,' said Tomb flatly. 'Even after his death, the protective wards should still have been there. They usually have to be dismantled by another sorcerer. Dammit, every sorcerer has wards of some kind; you can't
