Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“HELLO! ANYBODY HOME!?”
The cry comes from the front door and is accompanied by heavy footsteps and a general bashing about the place that can only herald one person.
We look up as Cosmos walks in with a hemp bag containing something heavy, and apparently, bloody. He dumps it on the long table and looks around at us all with a broad grin. This man is a stone-cold maniac. There is no other way to describe him. From his blue hair to his many tattoos, to the reckless tendency to violence and murder, he is a liability — except if you happen to be an organization of demon hunters. Then he’s an asset, albeit one likely to go rogue at any time.
“And what’s this, then?”
“This is the head of Fleisch.”
Cosmos is ever so pleased with that little play on words. I allow myself a gentle smile of acknowledgement while Nina blanches and attempts to distance herself from the gory sight. I am almost entirely certain that Anita is going to try to poke the bag with something, most likely her finger judging by the way it creeps across the table. Thor slaps her hand away at the last minute, earning himself both a glare and a pout.
“We’re always trying to stop them from using angelic blood to animate whatever side of beef they think is the body of Christ. So I went there, and I killed the man in charge. Problem solved.”
“Except for the fact there will inevitably be someone waiting in the wings to take over.”
Cosmos narrows his eyes at Bryn. The two have never gotten along. I have to admit I am curious as to why Cosmos has decided to return after declaring he would absolutely do no such thing under any circumstances whatsoever.
“I’ll cut his head off too. I’ve got an endless supply of blades fit for the purpose. It’s heads all the way down. And I found something else. It’s in the back of the car.”
We follow with no small amount of trepidation, all the gang traipsing out to the vehicle which stands with the driver’s door still open and a small pool of blood on the passenger seat where the head must have once sat.
He opens the boot of the car and reveals a young woman, perhaps twenty years or so of age. She has pale blonde hair and ice blue eyes and a diminutive frame that speaks to having had very little to eat in quite some time. Her wan, terrified expression and wide eyes elicit the greatest of pity.
“Who is this?” Bryn asks the question.
“Oh,” Cosmos grins broadly. “This is my wife.”
“Why is your wife tied up in the fucking trunk, you psychopath?” Nina has erupted in outrage, her face instantly nearly as red as her hair.
Cosmos seems momentarily confused. “I… I don't know. This is just how I usually travel with people.”
“You’re a fucking nutter,” Anita exclaims. “A proper fucking bellend.”
Together, the girls help Cosmos’ captive out of the car. Anita has a knife on her that she uses to cut the bindings. I see Thor’s brow rise as she produces the blade. He should know a demoness will always be prepared to do what is necessary.
The poor thing is shaking like a leaf. It is not common, or in any way acceptable, for the Brotherhood to endorse violence against the gentler sex. Though both Nina and Anita are high spirited at times and receive the appropriate corrections, neither of them has ever been treated in this callous a manner.
“You’ve gone too far this time, mate,” Bryn announces, wrapping him up in a headlock and dragging him away. Cosmos takes this feedback by attempting to punch Bryn in the kidneys as hard as he can, while cursing at the top of his lungs. I find myself yearning for the old days, where clearer heads and maturer mindsets prevailed. But the old Brotherhood was perverted and corrupt. At least this young blood is passionate in their cause.
Mrs Crocombe comes bustling out of the house with some hot tea, scones, jam, and cream. She has an unerring instinct for knowing when someone in the area needs a cream tea.
“There you are," she says, greeting the girl as if she has known her her whole life. “Why don’t you come in and have some tea?”
“Ich möchte nach Hause gehen,” the girl whimpers.
“She’s German,” Anita announces, as if that is a piece of information not immediately obvious to everybody.
“Do you speak English?” Nina asks kindly.
“I’m not German. It’s just habit,” the young lady replies. She is fiddling with her long blonde hair nervously, avoiding the gazes of all present. Hardly surprising, given her obvious trauma. An unplanned interlude with Cosmos would test the nerves of even the most hardened of maidens, and it is clear she does not fall into that category.