The Don held Gwendolyn's arm as he ushered her into the back door of the Brentish Watch. Grendal and Inspector Brick pulled up the slack, making their way through the motor pool. A couple of greased smeared mechanics looked up from the hoods of some Watch cars bewildered as to the recognizable face gliding through their workshop. A couple of constables  spilt honeywood tea from their mugs as they casually chatted to the grease monkeys and observed the unusual entourage of Baroness Pendragon make haste through the garage.

Brick gave them all an accusatory glance. 'Not a goddamn word.'

The Don made his way up a long and cold corridor where the Commodore waited with a constable. The old soldier clicked his heel and saluted the Baroness.

'That's quite enough of that Commodore. Please, no fuss. Let's just get on with the nitty gritty. I have a campaign to promote and there isn't enough hours in the day.'

The Commodore nodded sincerely. The Don observed the old man. It was almost hero worship. She wasn't just a woman. She was a noble woman. And he loved the pomp and ceremony.

'I beg your pardon, Baroness. It's just that I served with your father in the Frugalmeyan Fusiliers. A great man.'

The Baroness smiled lovingly. 'Ah, daddy. A great shame. Him and his soldier boys always having fun.'

The Don cast her a curious eye, that the very idea of fusiliers killing and maiming children in Darklands could be categorized under 'fun' didn't fill the Tatterfox with much hope for a Socialist Party. Even the Krazzi's moss-brows seemed to shudder at the very idea.

'It's reassuring that a soldier of your caliber is in command of such stalwart officers and . . .' she looked the Krazzi up and down. '. . . authoritarian chaps.'

'They are a credit to the knowledge passed down from your father, Baroness.' The Commodore replied.

'Oh stop, Commodore. You really are a cad.'

The Krazzi and the Tatterfox noticed a hue of flushed red hanging over the Commodore's white beard and they exchanged a glance.

The rodent pulled himself from the depths of The Don and Brick and announced himself to the Commodore. 'Could we speed along the proceedings please? The Baroness has an awful lot to do today and we are terribly pushed for time.'

The Baroness placed a hand on the secretary's shoulder. 'Now, now Grendal. Let's not forget our manners. The Commodore is just being courteous.'

'But you have an appointment in Katta-mah-geer in two hours. It would be polite if-'

'It would be polite if we could help these esteemed gentlemen in their investigation, Grendal. Remember our duty.'

'But the campaign –'

'The campaign will still be there in two hours, Grendal. How would the people perceive us if we didn't do our own duty. Besides,' she nudged her secretary in the ribs, 'Even bad press is good press. Leader of the Socialist Party helps the Brentish Watch bring notorious villain to heed. Imagine the front page news.'

The Don noticed her rub her hands with glee as the Commodore guided her through the doors and down into the interrogation rooms. The constable leading the way opened the door to the observation room The Don and Xindii had frequented only three hours earlier. Behind the glass screen sat the Ravnor riddled form of Godrich Felstrom.

The Baroness glided up to the glass window, her hand effortlessly untangling from The Don's arm. She observed the monster behind the cage and sighed with an almost sexual longing.

'My monster, what has become of you?'

She touched the glass in a way that looked like she was caressing Godrich's head.

It seemed the Baroness's words could be heard through the glass as Godrich turned his gaze to the window and swallowed so hard an artery burst in his neck, turning his once brilliant white shirt into a deep crimson rag.

'Here be dragons.' the Baroness remarked. 'Don't fret gentlemen. He won't hurt me. Now will you show me the way?'

The Commodore was flummoxed as to her request. 'Sorry mam?'

She turned about, her face a blank canvass. 'Let me in, Commodore.'

'Well, that's highly irregular, Baroness. You can communicate through the glass surely?'

Grendal jumped in, concurring with the seasoned soldier.

'Ah so sweet. Protecting your lady. But, rest assured he will not hurt me. As the Inspector and The Don have pointed out he has been waiting for me.'

'I must insist, Baroness.' Grendal cried.

'You can insist all you like, Grendal. I know that monster better than anyone. He isn't one to impromptu attacks. But as you feel necessary please, post a constable in the corner in case of any undue violence. But there won't.'

She turned back to the glass. 'Look at him. If he sneezes it's likely his brain will crack like an egg and seep through his nose.'

Brick stepped up to the mark. 'I'm inclined to agree chief. I'll stand at the back.'

'The hell you will Inspector. Not after the last time.' declared the Commodore. 'Francis?'

The young constable who had stood and greeted the Baroness with the Commodore moments earlier turned about.

'Commodore?'

'Stand at the back lad. Don't take your eyes of that thing in there. It's okay. We will be watching through the glass.'

'This is a tub of shit.'

The Don reached for the Inspector's arm. 'The Commodore has a valid point, Inspector. This monster works on a twisted basis. That it is above everyone else. A lowly-' The Don held his hand up to the constable, 'Sorry, a low ranking officer will prove only window dressing to Godrich. If you were in the room he wouldn't utter a word.'

The Baroness looked impressed with The Don's hypothesis. 'He is correct, Inspector.'

The Commodore reached for his temple and massaged it. 'Alright. Alright. Francis? You okay with that? If not I'll get someone else.'

All eyes cast themselves to Constable Francis and his shaking hands. 'Sure, sir. No problem at all. Not at all.'

But all those eyes knew he was lying through his young teeth.

Constable Francis was the first to enter, followed by Baroness Pendragon and the Commodore. Godrich looked up from his musings, shocked and comforted by the fact that Gwendolyn had come to him one last time.

'Gwendolyn?' he chirped. His jaw cracking as he blurted her name.

She stood behind the chair, in awe of his bloodied visage or ashamed at the degradation of his flesh. It was a hard job to tell.

'Hello Godrich, it's been a while I imagine. How long have you been playing the role of Gustaf?'

Right there and then you could see the theatre of his charade deflate. He looked like an infant who had had his ice cream taken away. The black pits of his eyes almost pitiful.

'It's alright they know,' she said, nodding at the Commodore. 'You can take those lenses out.'

Godrich just smiled a skeletal grin at his audience. Nothing more.

Gwendolyn pulled the chair back and sat down opposite the walking corpse.

Constable Francis made his way to the back of the room. The Felstrom didn't even acknowledge him. He was more interested in the Baroness, his chest heaved at her demeanour, elegant; conservative. Well mannered.

She sat opposite him and smoothed down the lime green cotton of her skirt and licked her lips. 'Would it be possible to have a glass of water, Commodore? I'm rather parched.'

The Commodore thought about it quickly and shouted through the door. 'Jenkins? Glass of water for the Baroness. Make it one of those plastic ones from the water cooler.'

The Baroness and Godrich chuckled in unison, no doubt thinking the same thing. 'Most conscientious, Commodore.'

'Just doing my duty, mam.'

'And he does it so well, doesn't he?' Godrich remarked.

The Commodore didn't even dare acknowledge the fiend's high praise. Jenkins came moments later with a beige plastic cup of water. The Commodore placed it on the table and gave the Baroness a weary look.

She touched the old soldier on his arm affectionately. 'It's alright, Commodore. Please. We will be fine.'

He gave Constable Francis a sly wink and then turned about and made his way out. He quickly jogged around the corner to the observation room where Brick and The Don sat interested. The Commodore joined them.

'So, where would you like to start, Godrich?'

'Start?'

'You've waited patiently for me to arrive. Now you remain, what? Shy? Tongue-tied?'

Godrich looked at the glass and smiled. 'Why did you murder Gustaf? Gwendolyn.'

The Commodore looked at The Don and the Inspector, shocked; perplexed.

'Well,' said the Krazzi, 'That's one hell of a coal breaker.'

'Son of a whore is playing with us,' remarked the Commodore. 'He looked straight at the glass when he said it.'

'I don't think so.' The Don interjected.

'What?' demanded the Commodore.

The Don held up his paw, calling for quiet. Behind the glass, Godrich and Gwendolyn continued.

'I didn't murder Gustaf. What makes you think I would be capable of such a horrible thing?'

'We are brothers, Gwendolyn. Always sharing. Always true to each other. We both knew the depths of your descent.'

She smiled. 'Descent? My dear Godrich. What level of descent have you brought yourself down to?'

'You know my crimes Gwendolyn and if it make you feel any better then I apologise wholeheartedly.'

'Apologise? I was a victim of your own sordid games. Rape? Brutalization? Attempted murder? You think you own me, Godrich? It was in you and your darling brother's snare where I grew. Learned not to be bullied. To be a victim.'

'And you have flowered beautifully, my dear.'

'It's just a game to you isn't it? Which one of you was it? Which one did I fall in love with? Which boy from Nuttergut Hill won my heart and blinded my self-respect?'

The bloodied skull smiled, mini waterfalls of blood seeped from decaying muscles. His shirt and jacket a wet blanket of oozing bodily fluids. 'You will never know. And as the Auditors take my number I will relish in the fact that you never found out. Besides, it never really mattered. Gustaf and I always thought you never really cared who it was. It could have been a Nelka off the street. As long as you had something long and hard driving you, you never really cared.'

The Commodore was about to get up and break the glass but Brick and The Don restrained him. 'Fucking swine. That's Baroness Pendragon. Not some Eshreet whore.'

'Easy Commodore, I have a very distinct feeling that the Baroness has an ace up her sleeve.'

Gwendolyn pursed her lips and licked them, taking a small swig of the water to her left. She placed it down and continued, a refreshing zeal suddenly burning in her eyes.

'Oh my boys. Always thinking they were so clever. You did indeed play a beautiful game but I know who I fell in love with. Gustaf was my love. Did he never tell you?'

'He told me everything you cheap whore.'

The Baroness smiled. 'Indeed?'

The wheezing monstrosity leaned its dripping head over the table. 'We shared everything darling. The toys we inserted into your arse. The juices that flowed from your gaping quim. We shared your flesh and plucked your soul to shreds.'

'And did you share our child?'

Godrich laughed and his jaw cracked, almost falling out of its socket. 'What child?'

'Oh, I'm sorry. Did he not tell you of our loss? My miscarriage. How he was so distraught at our loss. That he wept on my shoulder for weeks. Where we talked and planned our escape from you?'

'This is a ruse. A fiction to sate your vengeance.'

'We called him Jacob. Nothing fancy. Just a nice name. Unfortunately it wasn't to be. But we cherished his memory all the same. Lit a candle every year on the day we lost him. A tribute to a life unlived; snatched.'

Godrich shook his head. 'This is pure nonsense.'

'I loved Gustaf. He was a monster in his own right for entertaining your ideals, but I saw the monster crack, and in his grief our love blossomed. I saw kindness. Why did you kill him Godrich? Had you deduced his deceit? You knew of his secret didn't you? Our love?'

The oozing skull of sinew and seeping blood began to chuckle, coughed to the point where the bones in his ribs began to atrophy and crack. But he still laughed at the Baroness's ridiculous fiction.

'I now remember why we were fascinated by you. You have a remarkable guile, woman.'

'I'm sorry that you have lost your brother, Godrich. And I'm sorry for you.'

'Spare me your pity. Do you think the Watch will believe your insane procrastinations?'

Gwendolyn took another sip of water and placed it down. 'I'm the leading candidate for Prime Minister. You are a walking corpse with blood on your hands. A degenerate rapist and murderer. I think I know which side the Watch's bread is buttered, sir.'

Godrich sank into his chair, a wheezing and decaying bag of putrefying matter.

The Baroness pulled her handbag from the floor and placed it on the desk. Constable Francis stood ready in case Godrich made a play for it.

Gwendolyn stood and pitied the creature. Even for the things he and his sibling had done to her. 'You should make peace with your god, Godrich. It's the only salvation you have left.'

The monster sighed, blood bubbles escaping through the gaps in his teeth. 'I have no god, woman. Give yours my heartfelt fucks.'

'I will.' A small giggle escaped her lips and the strap of her handbag fell on the plastic cup and spilt over into Godrich's lap. The Baroness looked genuinely apologetic. 'So sorry. Constable, I'm done. I have babies to kiss and flags to wave.'

Francis hurried over. 'Mam,' he replied, opening the door for the Baroness and ushered her through. Godrich Felstrom placed his hand in the spilt water and swirled it idly with his index finger and then stared into his reflection in the glass. A small tear fell from his eye.

Constable Francis and The Baroness met the Commodore and The Don in the corridor. The old soldier immediately jumped in, offering her a cup of tea or something stronger.

'I'm quite alright, Commodore. Thank you.'

The Tatterfox loitered behind the old man, slightly concerned. He noticed Grendal scurrying down the corridor.

'Oh thank goodness, Baroness. Are we done? The campaign awaits.'

'Of course Grendal. One moment.'

'Just a moment, Baroness . . .'

Everyone turned their heads toward The Don.

'Yes, your grace.' She asked.

'What you told Godrich in there. About your miscarriage. Was that true?'

'You think me a liar? Your grace, I'm quite upset.'

'I'm just trying to ascertain the truth, Baroness. It is our responsibility to solve this case. We noticed you were with child years ago, through House.'

'Yes, Yes of course. I have had the misfortune of not just having one your grace.'

She reached for her mouth, stemming her loss.

Grendal stepped in, now completely flustered at the pomposity of the augment

'You sir? You doubt the Baroness's testimony? We do not have time for this.'

The Commodore looked at The Don. 'What is it lad?'

'Forgive me madam, but . . .'

'What is it your grace? Please?'

'Did you see Gustaf on the night of his death, Baroness? Did he come to you that night?'

'He did, sir. But that doesn't mean I had anything to do with his death.'

The rodent perked up. 'This is slanderous.'

The Baroness held her hand against Grendal's rebuttal.

'What is it you want of me your grace?'

'Besides Godrich you are a prime suspect, mam.'

The Commodore's neck swung into close proximity of The Don's ear. 'Are you mad? She could be the next Prime Minsiter.'

'Murder is murder, Commodore. Whether you have a political party or not.'

The Baroness stepped forward. 'Your murderer sits in there, sir. I cannot be seen to entertain this lacklustre investigation no longer.'

'Oh he is a murderer alright, He has confessed to such. But he didn't murder his brother. He is on death's door. Do you think he had the resolve to control his mind and rip his own sibling apart? I think not.'

The Baroness stepped forward. 'I have not come this far in my career to falter at this last step. Interview me. Question me all you like but I will not forgo my campaign, sir. I suggest you think through your candidates again. Get your Mapper to delve deeper.

'If you stand in my way or tarnish my good name I will not be held responsible for the outcome. People have funded this campaign. Powerful people who wish to see me mould this country forward. Shape its future. I suggest you turn your attentions elsewhere, gentlemen. The Guild will not tolerate any interference. Even the law can be rewritten if it suits their purposes. Remember what kind of hive you are sticking your heads into dear sirs. You could, very well get stung.'

The Don stepped forward. 'Murder is murder madam. And we will find the perpetrator.'

'Then I trust you will look under the correct rock, your grace.'

'Oh I will madam. Rest assured.'

'Well then. Come Grendal. To Katta- meh-geer and its lovely denizens.' She approached the Commodore and placed her hand on his wrist. 'Would it be at all ostentatious to ask for a car to take us back to the campaign, Commodore? Time is money of course.'

'It would be an honour, Baroness. I'll send Francis here.'

The Don sighed and turned his back on the clique. Brick casually walked down the corridor to meet him.

'You look like you've had your nose put out of joint, fox man.'

'You could say that.'

'Don't worry. I think she is too squeaky clean too.'

'If she didn't do it then she knows who did, Brick.'

'But how the hell are we going to find out? We put our noses in, we get burned.'

'You're not scared of politicians are you Inspector?'

'No, I'm scared of the Guild. But hey, what the hell? We are in too deep now. I can't turn back. How could I sleep at night?'

'Good man,' remarked The Don.

Brick pulled a cigarillo from his pocket and lit it. 'So, what's the plan?'

The Don watched Francis usher out the Baroness and her rodent, the Commodore saluting them as they left.

'First. We need a Mapper.'

Godrich felt it moving in his stomach. At first it felt like his gut was detaching itself. The last stage of Ravnor running its course. It wouldn't be long now before his insides slipped and fell through his arsehole.

Suddenly he felt his stomach turn itself about at a hundred and ninety degrees. He leaned across the table stretching his body, finding a posture where he could escape the pain but none was forthcoming. A series of stomach cramps wretched through his gut, exploring the terrain of the dark wet enclave. At first it felt quite sensual as a curious tickling mapped the soft texture of his bowels, probing and coaxing the inner sanctum for a way out. It crawled and slithered through degenerative organs, ruptured pink and yellow entrails and weeping sores. Finally it found a new aroma, the sweet tangible scent of oxygen. Using claws of bone it lurched and flapped through Godrich's gullet, using its claws to ascend, puncturing the inside of the dilapidated man in its bid for freedom.

Godrich screamed, his throat congealed as thin milky tendrils slipped from his mouth and lapped at the air, finding the smooth wet curvature of his skull they pierced the bone bringing forth the head and the beak of the Sand-Snipe, pulling its bulbous frame through his tight throat. The remaining veins that hadn't leaked due to Ravnor, did. Bursting as the slippery form of the curious Sand-Snipe breached, cracking Godrich's vertebrae, moving his teeth and gums forward to the point where his upper jaw fell from his skull with a wet thud on the table.

The last thing Godrich remembered was the Sand-Snipe ploughing its razor- sharp-beak into his brain, devouring his essence a bit at a time as the Krazzi watched on.

Brick walked into the interview room and saw a Sand-Snipe chowing into the mangled brain of Godrich Felstrom. He sighed deeply and then took a lengthy drag on his cigarillo.

'Just another day in paradise,' he quipped as he reached for Brenda.

The Sand-Snipe suddenly realised that it had an audience and opened its beak with a high pitched shriek declaring its kill and its right.

Brick fired a bullet at its grisly visage and it exploded in a burst of milky white matter.

'Runs in the family.'