Chapter 2
Her long, lithe body hung there, floating as though upon a sea of air. A light sheen of sweat covered the length of her nakedness, glistening under the harsh glare of the overhead lights as she slowly twisted left then right. She groaned softly under the leather mask that encased her head and shut out all sensation - save for that of the hooks.
With neither sight nor sound, the sensations of the six hundred hooks embedded in her flesh were all that there was for her. The curved silver spikes were everywhere upon her, piercing her body from her feet to her abdomen, to her breasts and outstretched arms. The cruel metal tines stretched her skin upwards as she hung, face up, in a pose of horizontal crucifixion. She was suspended there, helpless, from a myriad of almost invisible strands that ran from the flesh hooks to the metal frame attached to the ceiling. Her leather-clad head lolled back - her unseeing face toward the wall behind her, as she no longer possessed the strength to raise it.
A drop of liquid flowed from the her pussy, down the cleft of her buttocks and dripped to the floor - joining the small puddle of juices that already stained the floorboards. She groaned with aching pleasure once more.
The suspended, pierced girl moved, kicking her leg gently. The movement increased her gentle rocking motion. The legions of hooks implanted in her increased the tug against her already stretched flesh - her nerves sending waves of electricity flowing through her body. This new rush of sensation was too much - her body began shuddering subtly from the pre-orgasmic spasms. A viscous cycle began as the jerking intensified the sensations, quickly sending her into orgasm. She bounced on the myriad of hooks like a fly caught in a spider's malevolent web. Her motions were too vigorous now, she could not stop her body reacting, the pain became too much and she began to scream under her mask. Sounds of tortured, agonized pleasure filled the room. She climaxed repeatedly.
After a time the convulsions abated, the cries receded. Silence fell through the room.
The suspended form twisted gently, waiting for the cycle to repeat once more. Anticipating.
Two men, of roughly similar height and build, stood and gazed down the main street of Boston. The road bustled with Saturday morning activity and life. A wagon, drawn by a pair of immensely unenthusiastic oxen, lumbered through the muddy, rutted street, loaded with goods.
People were everywhere. Some, dressed in the bright finery of the privileged classes, walked with straight backs and squared shoulders, avoiding wherever possible any contact with the mud and occasional filth that lay on the street. Then there were those that wore the drab garments of the less fortunate members of society. Those people tended to walk with a more rounded back and stooped shoulder - as though the weight of their station in life, the realization that for most of them the future offered nothing but a lifetime of toil for little reward, weighed upon their minds. In between these two extremes lay the middle-classes - those who through hard work and perhaps good fortune had raised themselves above the ranks of the poor, and placed themselves within sight of the rich. These people held a tenuous position in the middle of society, neither rich nor poor, their economic position and so social status fragile and uncertain; at the slightest disaster they might sink down into the ranks of the unfortunates.
Flin delivered these observations to the man standing next to him.
"Yes, they are remarkably tolerant of hierarchy aren't they," Marcus agreed. "And inequality. Fascinating. It's one thing to be informed about it, another to actually observe the phenomena."
"It is their strength and their weakness."
"True."
They looked upon the scene for some minutes more, both silent and expressionless. The two men were dressed much the same as the others in the street scene they were part of. Their garments were not of the standard of those of the highest echelons of society, but far from the worst. They were both oddly clean though, as though they had just put on freshly washed clothes, not even their trousers were splashed with mud. Otherwise they looked unremarkable.
"We must formulate a plan of action," said Flin.
"Valid."
"Present some proposals."
"Why not you." Marcus turned his head slightly to look at the figure next to him.
"I will play the role of critical reviewer of your action plans. Thus, allowing the rapid development and review of proposed activities."
Some silence ensued while Marcus returned to staring straight ahead.
"I await your proposal."
"It is undergoing formulation."
More silence. A small boy paused in front of the two unmoving figures and stared at them for some moments before his mother caught up with him and dragged him off. She muttered apologies to the men. They did not reply.
It was Flin who spoke. "In view of your obvious cognitive deficiencies I will present a proposal. I suggest we seek out and overpower likely individuals, take them to a place of seclusion and extract the information from them by exploiting their susceptibility to pain."
"Patently inefficient. Your allegations of cognitive inadequacies appear to be misplaced."
"Specify."
"Much as it may seem otherwise, intra-species violence is securely regulated in most social contexts. We will inevitably attract undue attention to ourselves and thus risk losing contact with the target."
"And your proposal is..."
"One based around a non-intrusive, participant-observation based methodological paradigm, and serendipity."
"You mean we wander around and hope we...'get lucky'. I believe that is the correct expression."
"It is."
Flin took almost exactly one minute to reply.
"Acceptable, until a more comprehensive action proposal is tabled."
Without any apparent further communication between the two, they began to walk down the street - one looking to the left, one to the right.
The tall man stepped out from the alleyway with which he had been using as cover while observing the two men; two strangely still figures amidst the bustle of the Saturday market.
"Now that could be a problem," he muttered to no-one in particular.
The targets of his observations had disappeared down the street by now, and he stared hard after them for a while more. Then he snapped out of his reverie, and the grin returned to his face.
"Now where was I? Ahhh, yes - here priesty, priesty, priesty..."
He turned and set off down the street, in the opposite direction to the two men, heading towards the church spire visible over the houses. A few of occupants of the street scene paused long enough to glance at the large figure, giggling inanely as he passed, before returning to the more important issues that occupied their lives.
Elizabeth waited patiently as the crowd began to file into the church. The atmosphere was still crisp with the Sunday morning air and a slight dew lay on the grass. The throng consisted of largely familiar faces and she acknowledged polite inquiries into her health and general well being in a socially appropriate manner.
Two men stood apart from the crowd, motionless, and made no move to join the rest of the churchgoers and enter the building.
Mr. Chalmers put his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders and gently guided her forward. He had his other arm around her mother, and, even though she enjoyed the familial closeness of the moment, Elizabeth feigned irritation.
"Oh, Pa'pa! Must you treat me like a child? I am twenty two you know."
He laughed in response, but it was her mother that spoke for him.
"Oh twenty two is it? Well, young lady, when you're married and set up in your own home with a husband to look out for, well then you may call yourself grown-up. Until that day you'll show your father some respect."
"Maud, don't be so hard on the child," Mr. Chalmers laughed gently, "she's just doing what's natural for a girl her age - wants to show she's moving on in the world, eh pumpkin?"
Elizabeth's cheeks burned at the use of her childhood nickname in such a public forum.
"Please, Pa'pa!" she hissed, "You are deliberately trying to embarrass me!"
Her father laughed again and hugged them both tighter as they entered the church.
As they seated themselves Elizabeth noticed that Father O'Connell was not at the pulpit, rather the Verger, Mr. Timms, was standing in his place. Verger Timms began by explaining that Father O'Connell had taken ill quite recently and would be unable to give today's sermon. However, if the community would permit it, he would do so in the Father's stead. The expected murmur of ascent went through the assembled crowd and he began.
It quickly became apparent to Elizabeth that Verger Timms was a very boring sermonizer.
The stranger who called himself Will, seated in the last row of church pews, watched the back of Elizabeth's head as it began to tilt forwards, her attention on the sermon waning. Clearly she wasn't finding her god's exploits enthralling.
Curious, he thought. If it was my god I would be riveted to these stories. Mainly because if my god found out I wasn't listening my existence wouldn't be worth having. Perhaps these people's god is more forgiving? It didn't sound like it from what the Verger was saying though. Odd.
His face took on a look of concentration, staring in Elizabeth's direction. The verger droned on, something about turning people into salt. Good idea, he thought vaguely, only half listening. Must remember that one.
Elizabeth's head snapped up slightly, as though she had just woken from sleep. He could see her cheeks were flushed red. Her hand went to her mouth in a shocked gesture. He smiled as he guessed what that meant.
"Come on, baby. I know you're in there. We haven't got eternity - I can see your flesh sack decaying before my eyes."
Elizabeth appeared to look intently at the Verger, and then to the left and to the right.
"Good girl. She's done the math - as she used to say." He grinned to himself at the cleverness of his own thoughts. "Now look."
Elizabeth's head turned and she scanned behind her, her eyes stopped and she stared intently at him for several seconds, her eyebrows raised. He stared back, the grin slowly broadening. Elizabeth quickly turned back to facing the front. Her mother to her right glanced at her, before returning her attention to the Verger, who appeared to be building up to a finale. Elizabeth's father had not moved; he was either enthralled by the Verger or somehow managing to sleep with his head upright.
Elizabeth cast one more look behind her at him. Will raised his eyebrows in a querying expression. Elizabeth remained steadfastly forward looking for the remainder of the Verger's sermon. Still gazing at the back of her head, but less intently now, he took out of metal hip flask with the inscription "To my esteemed colleague Tony O'Connell" and took a swig of the strong liquid it contained. A worshipper to his left quietly "'Ahem-ed" at him. Will took the flask away from his lips at looked at the offending "Ahem-er".
"It's medicinal," Will whispered, sounding slightly affronted, "It helps me come to grips with this thing you call reality."
The man, obviously unsure of what to make of that, returned his attention to the Verger, who was in the dying throws of hellfire and such the like. Will thought he didn't sound particularly well informed as to the realities of his subject, but then they never did.
Elizabeth's head sank forward as she drifted away from the service and into her own thoughts. Random images floated into her mind, of things past, things present, and things that had to be. The pew in front of her went from sharply detailed to fuzzy as her eyes glazed over.
...She was stretched out on her back, on a bed, its soft, yielding warmth comforting. She could not move her arms and legs. Of course, they were bound to the bed, her naked body forming an inverted 'Y'. This situation didn't strike her as odd because her body felt warm and safe and... aroused. A large form moved and straddled her chest, crushing her breasts. She could plainly see the chiseled muscles on his powerful thighs and abdomen. His engorged penis was within inches of her face - and as her gaze fell upon it she felt it to be a beautiful thing. One of his hands guided his member toward her mouth while the other cradled the back of her head, lifting her up and towards it. She knew she wanted it - desperately. Opening her mouth greedily, she felt the smooth sensation of his member sliding betweenher lips, the sweet foul taste of it. Her tongue began to work, slowly at first then increasingly busy. He groaned and started to slide it back and forth inside her beautiful mouth, deliciously degrading her with each thrust...
Elizabeth's head snapped up and she gave a slight gasp. Oh my Lord, what a daydream - those disgusting nightmares were starting to intrude on her waking times! Her hand went to cover her mouth - she could almost taste that... thing! What foul depravity had she dreamt up - and in the house of the Lord too! What was wrong with her? It couldn't be that her disgusting dreams were starting to invade her day! She would have to find some form of penance to drive these unclean thoughts from her mind - if Father O'Connell found out what went on in her head.
Father O'Connell! Where was Father O'Connell?! Sick?
The strangers words at the ball floated back into her mind, "...have some sport with your local priest."
The blood in her veins went icy cold and thoughts of her recent daydream disappeared. Oh my good Lord, it couldn't possibly be true! Was that curious man still here?
Elizabeth turned and searched the faces in the church and found him almost immediately. Her gaze settled upon the stranger's face, his twisted grin growing as he stared back at her.
She abruptly turned back to the front.
"Please pay attention to the Verger, darling," muttered her Mother.
"Yes, Ma'ma," she replied automatically.
Her mind raced with the possibilities. Perhaps she had imagined it? One more quick look behind her showed that it was true. He was there, and still staring right at her!
She fixed her gaze on the Verger but her mind was a rush of thoughts and emotions. Could it be true, had he done something to Father O'Connell, or was it merely a coincidence? Bloody hell!
Please don't swear, she silently told herself - it's not very ladylike.
As the satisfied attendees filed out of the church, Elizabeth searched the crowd for that face. She did not find it, but those two men were still there in exactly the same place as before. Ordinarily this would have been regarded as strange, but today Elizabeth was mightily distracted and their existence passed from her attentions as she continued her furious search for the man who called himself Will. She was out on the lawns of the church grounds, only vaguely aware of her parents discussing the content of today's sermon, when something made her turn around and look back.
There he was, leaning against the side of the church, drinking from a metal flask. He was staring straight at her and Elizabeth held his gaze for a moment. She made up her mind.
"Oh, Pa'pa - could I take a moment to see the Verger, I would like to inquire as to poor Father O'Connell's health and wish him well."
She looked up into her father's weathered face.
Thomas considered the request for a moment. "Well, I suppose so. What do you think, Mother?"
Maud Chalmers looked doubtful for a moment, but then remembered that it was a priest's health after all.
"I suppose so, we'll wait for you here."
"Oh please don't wait up for me. I would rather like to take some air and walk home - after all, it is a lovely day."
Her parent's exchanged glances, her mother's brow furrowing, her father's raised his eyebrows at mother.
"Well, Lucy," he said, "she is twenty two you know. That's almost grown up."
"Hmmmph, well," there was clearly a mighty internal debate occurring within Elizabeth's mother, "I suppose so."
"There you go then. Now run and give Verger our best regards."
"Yes, Pa'pa," she said gratefully, "and thank you, Ma'ma."
Both her parent's smiled, her mother somewhat more doubtfully than her father though.
Elizabeth turned and, gathering her full dress around her, began to walk quickly back to the church. Her heart leapt as she thought of her frightfully clever ruse, and then sank as it occurred to her that she had just betrayed her parent's trust.
"Bother," she thought, "why is everything so complex and never clear-cut like in the stories?"
Mr. and Mrs. Chalmers made their way toward their buggy; Mrs. Chalmers quietly berating Mr. Chalmers for falling asleep in church again as they went.
Elizabeth entered the dimmed interior of the Church, turned just inside the entrance and watched from the darkness as her parents mounted their buggy and began to drive off down the road.
A voice from behind startled her.
"Elizabeth, my dear child. Can I help you?"
It was the Verger.
"Oh, yes, Verger, ahhhh, just wanted to say delightful sermon you gave today. Quite enjoyed it really. Ummm, especially the ummm...the ahhh...the bit about all those people being killed by God. For whatever reason it was. I can't remember the reason just now, but I'm quite sure God had a frightfully good one. After all, he would hardly go round slaughtering whole cities of men, women and children just for a laugh now would he? I should jolly well expect they deserved everything they got!"
She gave a short, little laugh.
"Well, yes...yes, of course, God is after all ineffable and I don't think..."
"Yes, exactly my point Verger, exactly. Couldn't have said it better myself! Now do give my regards to Father O'Connell won't you - and God too, of course. Oh, gosh is that the time? Loved chatting with you Verger but must run. I do believe Ma'ma and Pa'pa are waiting for me."
This had all come out as a frightful babble and, as Elizabeth dashed back out of the church entrance, the Verger looked somewhat dumbfounded.
"Well my, the youth of today. They grow up so fast you know," the Verger somberly intoned to himself "It's not like in my day when the children had real respect for authority."
He shook his head sadly and shuffled back to his office.
Marcus and Flin observed the young woman in the light blue dress break away from the two older individuals she was with - her genetic precursors presumably, noted Flin. Marcus nodded in agreement. Her long blonde locks caught the sunlight as she moved hurriedly back to the church.
"The indigenous personnel appear to have all but returned to their domiciles."
"There is still some native presence."
"The probability of valid data gathering in this context has dropped to unacceptably low levels."
"I concur."
"I put forward that the serendipitous observation methodology so far employed is proving to be unacceptably inefficient."
"This is possible."
"Increasingly salient temporal constraints indicate we should expedite the development of a more overt action plan."
"Specify."
Flin was silent.
"Specify," Marcus repeated.
"We agreed that action plan development was your area of functional authority. I review said proposals."
Marcus turned slightly and looked at Flin for a long moment, before returning to gazing at the Church. The girl in the blue dress had reappeared, as she scampered down the wooden stair leading to the church, her white-cottoned ankles flashing as she disappeared around the corner. Marcus reflected for a moment.
"Does that appear to be in any way strange to your perceptions," he said.
It was Flin's turn to look at Marcus for a long moment.
Elizabeth, hitching her skirt up as far as decency would allow, dashed around the side the church. Will had disappeared from sight but she knew he wouldn't have gone far. She rehearsed what she was going to say to him in her mind. By God she was going to give a jolly good talking to, that was for sure!
Now she rounded the corner and there he was, standing near the back of the church with that blasted grin still on his face. Elizabeth felt the outrage grow in her. She stalked up to him and let fly.
"Right you, now what have you done to nice old Father O'Connell?"
"I showed him his truth."
"Eh? Enough of your gobbledygook, sir, you are a rotter and a scoundrel who should be..."
As she was gesticulating at him during her tirade he, with such lightning speed that her mind barely registered the movement, grasped her by the wrists and pushed her back against the church wall, pinning her arms above her head.
This unexpected course of events completely deflated her sense of moral outrage. His body pressed along the length of hers, her breasts crushed against his solidity.
"Oh...oh...ahhh, please stop that. I say - you...you're hurting me."
"I'll teach you to enjoy it."
He continued to grind against her. The sensation was... unusual.
"Look, if you don't..."
Another protest died stillborn as he shifted position explosively, his powerful hands moved down to her thighs - grasped them firmly and lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his torso. It was as though she weighed nothing. The back of her head bumped against the wooden wall of the church, causing her to cry out. Her hands had instinctively rested upon his broad shoulders in a feeble attempt to push him away.
This was a position she had never been in within any man. The closest she had been to this was with her pillows on her bed at home, late at night. That, she concluded as he began to nuzzle her neck, did not prepare one for an event such as this.
With her legs extended out in front of her, and his 'attentions' starting to get increasingly vigorous, panic began to creep into Elizabeth's mind, and the ability to think rationally left with it. He now had one hand under her ass and the other supported and rubbed against her back - he began to move her up and down slightly in a motion that she recognized. She was not entirely the innocent her parent's believed her to be - she had read about what goes on and understood how things... developed. Now her blood froze as she felt her groin rub against a lump that hadn't been there before. The realization of how much trouble she was in struck home, and terror gave her a voice.
"Please...please, what do you want of me?"
He paused in incessant nuzzling and licking of her neck and shoulders and looked at her, his lips now inches from hers. She could feel his breath mingling with her own. He spoke with a softness she had not heard from him before.
"I want to fuck you. I want to torture you for eternity in an agony of ecstasy the likes of which your mind cannot comprehend. I want to rip your soul from your broken body. And I want to hear you beg for me to do these things to you over and over again."
She stared at him, her lips quivering, her mind only partially registering what he had said.
"Oh...I see. Ummm...I'd rather that you didn't." She struggled ineffectually. "Please...please, don't."
"That's what you always say. But I know your truth."
She was helpless now and begging. Control of the situation had slipped far away and all avenues of escape seemed cut-off. Where was Pa'pa? Where was her voice to scream? She felt hot tears on her face.
His expression grew cold as his both hands moved down to her rear and began to fumble with her undergarments. He pushed her skirt and petticoats up to her waist, above her long white stockings, tied above her knees with pink ribbons. Her firm thighs were exposed in a public place for the first time in her life. Inane thoughts about what this would do to her reputation if she were discovered in this position crossed her mind. Some part of her said it was better to let him do this to her than allow her reputation, and that of her family's, to be destroyed by such a finding. She really didn't know what to do now.
She felt his hand tearing and pulling at her undergarments, felt her slip tear and now the sensation of a man's rough hands on her rear end, felt him explore her ass cheeks and cleft of her buttocks.
She pushed feebly at him once more, and her eyes looked to the heavens, where she knew the stars were hiding. Was God really up there? Why didn't he help her?
He fumbled at Elizabeth's undergarments with an increasingly desperate passion. Normally this was not like him, he was usually devoted a lot of time to foreplay terror but this was no ordinary woman. He could feel the energy and was so close to it that it drove him to fervor.
Shit, undergarments are complex in this age! How the blazes were these people expected to reproduce wearing all this? Finally, and after a distinct lack of subtlety, he began to make progress and felt the delicious sensation of her firm young buttocks in his hands. His erection was threatening to burst out of his trousers on its own; he had better do something to relieve that pressure quick. He held her up with one arm under her perfect ass and the other began fumbling at his trousers.
"Azrael," Elizabeth's voice was cold, calm. "Look at me, Azrael."
"Huh, what now?" It took a second for the icy tone of her voice to register in his passion-addled mind, and he looked up before he thought about it.
His victim's pretty face was a twisted mask of controlled rage. Those innocent blue eyes were ice-cold now and it was Azrael's turn to be locked into that gaze.
"Would you like a kiss before we start then?"
"No, I thought I'd just fuck you," replied Azrael hopefully, his mind just about caught up with the change in her demeanor.
Elizabeth's forehead crashed into the bridge of Azreal's nose with an audible crunch, bone breaking under the impact. Azrael dropped her and staggered back - she landed with her legs slightly bent, ready.
"Bitch!"
His huge fist snapped out towards her head, but she had anticipated his response - ducking and swaying to the left and hearing wood splinter behind her under a mighty impact. She snapped three quick punches into Azrael's exposed right ribcage, shoulder moving to give maximum power to each shot. His arm snapped back down to protect his exposed flank, also exactly as expected and she rocked to her right side, twisting her torso and delivered an explosive punch - smashing the heel of her right hand into Azrael's damaged nose.
He cried out and staggered backwards, holding his face in both hands.
"Oh, huwo dere, Wil," he said after a few moments, "gud to zee yew are back again."
"What the fuck do you think you are doing?!"
"Well I jus fought dat if I could give yew a bid ov a shock..."
Her foot lashed out and caught him in the groin. He let out a strangled squeak and sank to his knees.
"You were going to rape me! Fucking rape me!! You know you need permission! If you do me without permission it don't count, got it?"
Azrael nodded - looking up at her he seemed almost childlike in his contrition.
"I sobby."
"Like shit you are! As usual you were going to get your fucking rocks off. And as usual it was gonna be at my fuckin' expense!"
Azrael's bloodied face broke into a smile.
"What the fuck have you go to smile about!"
"You look so sweet in that dress. It just makes me wanna," he looked at her visualizing, "rip it off you and...you know. Oh good, my nose seems to have healed."
Her face softened from its snarl.
"Awww, how nice of you to say. Hey, what's that over there?"
She pointed behind him and his head snapped around.
"I don't see anything, just some houses and a cow..."
As he turned to face her, a flying foot caught him square on the nose, smashing it once more. He gave a short scream and flopped onto his back, gasping.
"Sweet my ass, you cocksucker. You ever call me sweet again and I will..." She ran out of threats as she remembered the limited options she had against him. "Well, I'll do something that's for fuckin' sure. Asshole."
She turned and stomped off, leaving Azrael positioning his nose in an attempt to get it to set straight.
"I fink dear is sum fings I should be delling yew about wot az 'appened."
"Later, asshole, 'cause right now the way you're talking reminds me of Jar Jar fuckin' Binks and being reminded of that sorry excuse for a fuckin' character is really pissing me off. You come and see me later when I've calmed down an' maybe I'll be able to control the screaming urge I have to cut off your worthless testicles!"
She whirled and disappeared around the corner of the church, still muttering and cursing under her breath.
"Oooh," groaned Azrael to himself, "we 'ave made contact."
"At great bersonal 'spense," he added, still holding his nose tenderly. "Everyfing shood be blain salin' frum ear dough. Cum to daddy, baby." He giggled and began to writhe on the ground, one hand massaging his groin. Then he sat bolt upright, an intense look on his face.
"Shit!"
They stood there for some time more, while Flin waited patiently for Marcus to produce an operational plan for him to critique.
The girl who had disappeared behind the church some minutes ago hadn't yet returned.
"Please expedite your calculations. Our bodies are dehydrating in this heat."
"Noted."
There was a sharp crack from behind the church, followed by a cry of pain, raised voices and another cry of pain. Very soon the girl in the blue dress appeared. Her head was down and she was muttering something. The girl was so caught up in her private conversation that she didn't even look up at the two men as she stomped off down the road.
"Did you observe that."
"I did."
"Did you note what appeared to be blood on the front of that native's dress."
"I did."
"Would you classify that phenomena as strange to your perceptions."
"I would."
"We should investigate."
"I am responsible for the development of action plans here."
"Really, in the present context that is ridiculously pedantic."
"I am beginning to theorize that you assign task roles in deference to the difficulty of executing them at that time."
"Also ridiculous. Please retain your focus."
"I am beginning to theorize that you have become infected with the human love of hierarchy.
"And I am beginning to hypothesize that you have become infected with the human love of infighting and inefficiency."
"You cannot substantiate such an accusation. Now while you were being foolish the girl has left our line of sight."
"Me being foolish. Your attribution system is dangerously flawed."
There was a moment of almost peevish silence.
"I propose we investigate the rear of the church."
"I have reviewed the plan and found it be acceptable. Let us proceed."
They began to walk toward the church, in step with each other.
Azrael rounded the corner of the church, heard voices coming towards him, spun around and went the other way.
"Did you perceive that."
"Yes, there is a native back there," replied Flin.
They both broke into a jog and rounded corner of the church. There was no-one there. Footprints were visible in the ground and there was a fist-sized hole in the rear of the church.
"Did you obtain an effective look at it."
"Negative. You."
"Negative."
"It must been very quick. Unnaturally so."
"Either that or it used an alternative transportation system."
"Such as matter transportation or dimensional shifting."
"Yes."
"There is no evidence to support such a conclusion. It must remain speculative."
"True. However, the issue of the target's rapid disappearance from view remains unexplained.
"Also true."
"The girl."
"Yes. The girl."
"Establishing her location must become a priority. We will seek her out. You can critique that plan by establishing the exact search methodology."
Flin did not immediately reply.
"Serendipity."
"Acceptable."
They turned and walked back out to the street and proceeded in the direction that Elizabeth had disappeared.
Azrael crouched on the church roof and looked down upon the two figures as they spoke. Some things they said he did not follow but the last part he got. They finished their curious conversation and left. Azrael sat on the roof for some time more, thinking. The situation had become much more complex and he didn't really do complexity. Then the germ of an idea floated into his mind - perhaps Elizabeth was the key after all? Whatever he did, he would have to move fast as he knew it was only a matter of time before they found Wil. And that would be a bad thing, a bad thing indeed.
Wil marched down the street, the explosive rage that had taken over her mind cooling. She began to become aware of things around her. Come to think of it, where was she? This wasn't Boston that's for sure. It looked like some backward pissant country town. Perhaps it was one of those religious nut-groups that wanna be all medieval or something? And why was she wearing this fuckin' stupid dress?
Because it was a very nice dress - or was before it became all scrumpled and bloody.
Elizabeth paused - what a curious sensation. For a moment there she had been thinking the strangest thoughts. They were fading now and she couldn't quite remember what they were exactly. Her attempted recollections were replaced by an awareness of what had just been. Of what that scoundrel had tried to do. The memory of her helpless situation caused her to draw a sharp breath. She stopped walking and paused to consider why he hadn't...errr, done it, to her. She felt an aching spot on her forehead and reached up.
"Owww! Crikey!"
There was a sore lump there, and now she noticed her hands had sore spots. Of course! She knew now - she had fought the swine off!
How exciting!! She hadn't realized she had it in her, but she vaguely remembered hitting him - possibly. Then she remembered the sensation of his bare hands on her naked buttocks and an electric rush went through her. Elizabeth gave a girlish giggle and put her hand to her mouth, half ashamed and half excited by the memory.
Gosh what an adventure that had turned out to be - she simply had to get home to her diary! And she was pretty sure she had deduced what the word 'fuck' meant too.
Gathering up her skirt around her once again she proceeded to walk as fast as dignity would allow..\
Continued in Chapter 3
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