"What's the final count?" Deacon asked, the early morning sun beginning to shine through the murky fog rolling through the strangely empty street.

       "I've never seen anything like this," Joe Lanson, Coroner, said, "From what we can tell, there are over twenty bodies in there, and a lot of parts that don't have owners. How's the girl?"

       "Terrible. She's been in there, for what we figure, to be at least two years."

       "Are you shitting me?" Officer Hale asked sickened as he stepped out of his cruiser.

       "I wish. I won't even say what she's been eating because..."

       "How's the girl?" Deacon asked, still shaken from the nights events, trying with all his power to keep the coffee in his cup, and not on his hands.

       "Not good, she hasn't said anything since that son of a bitch landed right in front of her. She just kept screaming though." Officer Hale leaned back on the hood of his car, shaken in his own right, but no where near as much as Deacon. "You did good tonight, there wasn't any choice you could have taken to avoid..."

       "Why the hell did he get away with it for so long?" Deacon snarled, his coffee spilling onto his clenched hand, but in his rage this wouldn't register for hours. "Years, Matt! That girl was in there for years! Around corpses and filth and that sick bastard! Did you see any food in that place, Matt? What do you think she was eating!" Deacon's fist slammed against the hood of his car. "Those people in that building let that happen for years!"

       "Deacon, just calm down. There isn't anything we can do about that. You got the bad guy, he can't hurt anyone else..." Deacon's demeanor grew cold.

       "Dreams, Matt. Dreams. That girl is going to be hurt by the skinny man until the day she dies."

       "Well you how it goes. The greatest evil is when good men and women do nothing to stop..."

       "That doesn't make them good men and women! There is no way the people in that tenement didn't smell that, didn't see something!" Deacon hurled his coffee against the red brick wall of the cursed tenement. Matt simply shook his head.

       "Maybe you should take some time off, Deacon. Try to get your head straight before you have to deal with another case."

       "Look, we have a series of killings and disappearances apparently that all seem to involve markings like the ones on that girl, Gauge, and that son of a bitch up there and it's my job to find out exactly what the hell is going on."

       "Deacon..." Matt walked slowly to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "A smart guy once said 'He who fights monsters should look into it that he himself does not become a monster. When you gaze long into the Abyss, the Abyss also gazes into you.' I really think you should just step away from all of this."

       "That's not going to happen." Deacon sighed and put his hat back on. "I'll call you when the abyss looks back."

       "What's this next case about then?"

       "How did you know I was going onto another case?"

       "I just had a feeling. You overwork yourself when you want to get a case out of your mind."

       Deacon nodded and stepped back away from his car. "Apparently someone knocked off that new Chinese food place, the "Black Dragon". It seems like small fry stuff, nothing like this thing. A few witnesses said a group of well-groomed Asian guys killed the old man at the register and a few things were stolen. According to reports, a bunch of cash, some meat, books, personal effects. You know how it goes. It'll be an easy one for you, Joe. Single bullet wound to the head. See how long it takes you to figure out cause of death."

       "Lead poisoning, of course. Damn, I'm good!" A brief laugh followed. The only thing that helped sometimes was the gallows's humor.

       "So are you starting on that one tonight?"

       "Tomorrow most likely. I doubt I'll get to sleep tonight, but I should try to veg out for a bit. Watch some sportscenter, something like that. Get my mind off of this crap 'till I gotta do the follow up." Despite the effort, Deacon would not sleep that night.

________________________________________

       "Tatsuro, what did you bring me?" The old, stately Japanese man turned in his chair, resting his elbows on the dark brown desk. Tatsuro approached, flanked by his own generals. He had been Yakuza for most of his life, and began to have doubts in Matsunagi's leadership. Over the last few months, he'd been assigned to what appeared to be base killings and theft of old books, inks, and nonsensical items that could bring no true value or reward to the organization.

       "The book you asked for, sir. The filthy Tcho-tcho attempted to resist, so we had to kill him."

       "Very well, one less of those filthy cannibals alive." Togo stopped for a moment, and looked curiously at the meal he stole from the Black Dragon. "I hope you didn't grab the bak bon dzhow, Togo."

       "He said it meant white pork sauce..." Togo slowly lowered his meal.

       "Human Ganglia Paste, actually. Learn the languages of your culture, fool. Now give me the book." Togo dropped to his knees, expelling the contents of his stomach in a steady stream. Tatsuro approached and handed the book to his master. The book was unusual. The binding was ancient, appearing to be made from an unusual leather. Matsunagi's breathing grew still as he gingerly took the tome in his hands. Slowly, he opened the text, researching the front pages carefully before sighing in relief. "Send for the Artist . I will be requiring her service." Matsunagi stood and began to disrobe, revealing a torso covered in numerous tattoos. Tatsuro nodded and turned, barking at one of his men to get Togo cleaned up as he left the room, already dialing the number of the Artist.


________________________________________

       "Can you tell me anything about why they took what they did?" Deacon asked the curious looking older man. He couldn't have been taller than 4'8, with a bizarre bowl cut hairdo and tight skin pulled hard across his harsh features.

       "The book belongs to the Tcho-tcho. It can not be trusted in anyones hands but ours..."

       "The who?" Deacon had never heard the phrase Tcho-tcho before, and the words were no place on the report.

       "My people. It is our tribe's name. We come from Burma, if that helps. The book that was taken contains....certain histories of our people. It's something like a community bible. It's called "Rituals of Hali", but you won't be able to tell that from the words on the cover, different language of course. They also took some of our meat, but that isn't a problem, the pork we use is relatively cheap in this country. But other things will be harder, if impossible, to replace. The book is one of those items. Other things, family heirlooms, herbs, inks, things of the like, were also taken."

       "Alright, any clue who could have done it?"

       "Japanese boys. Well dressed, wore fancy shirts. Had tattoos on the arms." Deacon nodded and left the table, leaned out the door, and asked one of the other police to bring in a file of convicts from the area that matched the description. A few moments later it was there. He walked back to his seat and opened the file up.

       "Could you identify them if you saw them?" The old man nodded. With that, Deacon handed him the files, and watched as the man poured over them, picking out three.

       "These boys here." Deacon knew instantly what he was dealing with. Over the last several years, Japanese interests had started to take root in the states, and newly in Ironside City. These were all three members of a Yakuza organization calling themselves the Poison Fang.

       "Thank you very much for your time. I'll do what I can to recover the goods for you. My main concern is the murder though, so there is a possiblity anything that's foudn will be kept for evidence. But for now I'm going to head over to talk to these men tonight."

       "No, thank you, Mr. Cole. You can eat free at the Black Dragon whenever you wish. I suggest the White Pork Sauce."

       "Thanks, I'm sure I'll take you up on that someday. But I'm allergic to pork so I may just settle for my normal diet." Deacon grinned as he held up a nearby coffee cup.


________________________________________


       The old bosses body was a canvas of bizarre images. A serpent curled from his left wrist across his torso and down his other arm. Nearly all of his flesh was covered in ink with the exception of his chest. That was the Artist's new canvas. Matsunagi flipped the pages of the crumbling text procured earlier in the morning, before stopping and smiling.

       "This one." It was a symbol. A strange, three pronged star-like drawing, all growing from a central yet separate circle, and around it were letters of unknown origin. The Artist nodded.

       "The inks?" She spoke, her almost golden hazel eyes studying the old tome. Matsunagi nodded and took the pouch from his desk, another reward of the earlier theft.

       "They say these inks were taken from ancient sea gods, you know. There is a power to them."

       "Then I hope they're worth this. I take them as my payment. My work is very expensive you know." Matsunagi nodded and sat at the chair. “Though you will find that having the 'Kitrinos Sfragida' is more expensive than you ever thought. This will be the last time we meet.” She waited for his decision, a stern look across her face. This did not deter him.

       "Begin." With that, she took the yellow ink from the rest.

________________________________________

       They called the small area of Ironside "New Tokyo". In the years of the big iron boom of this central Texas city, the immigrant workers brought not only hard work, but custom with them and settled a small township which was eventually overtaken by the now massive Ironside City. Deacon was never comfortable there, a tall, somewhat fit redhead, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Nonetheless, he did what he could to find his suspects, finally leading him to a local market where his main suspect, Tatsuro Hiyabusa would frequent the gaming tables.

       "Mind if I sit in on this one, Tatsuro?" Deacon pegged him instantly, a bit of a dragon tattoo was peeking out of his short sleeve shirt. Not to mention the clearly pricey clothing compared to the relatively normal dress of everyone else in the room. He looked up as Deacon took a seat next to him.

       "Sorry Gaijin, we don't have any open games."

       "You're using that word wrong, pal. Technically, you're in America, and you were born overseas, so that would make you the 'gaijin' in this case." Deacon couldn't resist. His grampa was an army man who was stationed in Japan in the fifties, so Deacon knew the word. It meant something like 'stupid or unwashed foreigner'

       "Really funny, who the hell are you?"

       "Deacon Cole, Ironside Police, and we need to have a talk. Ever tried the white pork sauce at the Black Dragon?" Deacon heard a gagging sound near him. Togo again, lost his lunch.

       "I don't know what you're talking about."

       "Your friend seems sick. You may want to look to that. Here's the deal, pal. I'll give you a day to turn yourself in, or I come here with a warrant for you and your friends, and we trash everything you have your fingers in. I understand you guys have a strict code around here, and so do I, so do the right thing, alright?" With that, Deacon turned and started back to his car, just a little curious about the sick man behind him.

       Tatsuro watched as Deacon pulled away, relatively upset at the lack of composure his own right hand man held during the meeting. Police usually kept out of the way of his work, and this insult would not go over well. He had to report to Matsunagi.


________________________________________


       The artist folded hers tools into a fine cloth, and placed them inside a sturdy black leather case. Matsunagi admired the work in the near mirror finish of the darkened windows overlooking the stained stonework of the town below. The echoing sound of the knocking diverted his attention. A nod directed at his security lead to the door being opened, and Tatsuro striding in.

       "We have a problem, a Detective has been asking questions." Matsunagi barely seemed to notice as he appraised his new markings.

       "In the old ways, this symbol was a symbol of great power, a sign of a pact between a man and the Gods of Order." Tatsuro slowed, but continued walking towards his superior.

       "A detective was asking questions! They know we took the book and killed that old man! What are we going to do?" Matsunagi finally looked up.

       "This is all?" Matsunagi turned again to his markings.

       "All?" The Artist glared at Tatsuro for just a moment, be turning back to the door, a wicked smile dancing across her blood red lips before disappearing into the hall.

       "You come in here crying like a woman because of one detective? We own this territory! Nothing happens here without our say, and nothing happens here that we do not control. Now leave, I tire of your presence." With that, Matsunagi crumpled. Tatsuro for an instant stepped towards his buckled leader until something caught his eye. Something seemed to crawl across Matsunagi's left arm. It shined in the pale moonlight creeping through the paneled glass, reaching around Matsunagi's body. It slithered down his arm as Matsunagi writhed in agony.

       Matsunagi's tattoos were coming alive. He was convinced of it. Tatsuro turned and began to run towards the door only to be stopped dead in his tracks as his boss again screamed. Tatsuro turned just in time to see the red plume of liquid explode from his boss' torso as the serpent began to climb free. Tatsuro managed to push the still stunned guard out of his way as he charged through the doors, the scent of copper filling the air as he fled.


________________________________________


       Deacon didn't get his job because he was cautious. In fact, it was the exact opposite. On a number of occasions, he was the first on the scene and the only one leaving with any blood on him. He had a feeling he'd get a little more blood on him that night. He parked and began his slow walk towards the large, tinted windowed building that Tatsuro's bosses worked from. It took some work, but he got a warrant issued that night, but was refused any backup or the right to arrest without enough evidence to gain conviction without a doubt. They weren't the best odds, but Deacon didn't mind it. He was feeling a bit numb. He had to review the autopsy earlier, and had the strange paper found in the barrel of Gauge's gun in a bin in his back seat. It made him uneasy.

       The "Skinny Man" was covered in the exact same glyphs as those on Guage's body, and "Alice" as he called her still hasn't been able to talk after what happened. Likely they were going to ship her off to Rivas Asylum for the next few years. The thought of the place truly disturbed Deacon. It reminded him of Haley. He was glad he could visit her now, and glad that she wasn't locked away in that madhouse anymore. He was lucky though, she recognized the style of writing on the paper earlier in the day.


________________________________________


       Deacon knocked with a mild reluctance. It had been a while since he saw Haley. She was currently living with a sweet older lady named Angela who took care of Haley like a mother would. She had only been back with Angela for a week, as she had an episode just two months ago.

       Haley saw things. Deacon met her when he was a child in a grief counciling group. He was the only witness to his sisters drowning death and through that he became close to Haley, who was accused of killing her father brutally when she was a child. Deacon didn't think she did it, but she saw it and she's never been "right" since. One time she put it to Deacon like this. She claimed to see “the things that move between blinks”.

"Deacon! It's good to see you dear, how's work?" Angela was always absurdly cheery.

       "It's partially why I'm here actually. We have a case which involves a bit of strange...um, dialect, I guess. I was wondering if Haley could take a look?" Over the years in and out of the asylum, Haley had taken up learning languages in her spare time. They didn't edit books like that in there, and she had plenty of time to learn. By her 16th birthday, she could speak eight languages fluently, and read thirteen without fail. She didn't count the dead languages among those, and Deacon had a feeling that she would be able to at least guide him on the right track.

       "Of course! She's in her room right now. Just go on ahead, hun." Deacon smiled and tipped his hat at her as he stepped inside, but he made sure to take it off when he got in. She was a stickler for the little things. Deacon walked up the stairs alone as Angela returned to the living room, probably working on a crossword puzzle or something.

       "Haley?" Deacon opened the door slowly and, sure enough, she was there reading one of her old dusty tomes.

       "Deacon! Hey! How have you been?" She jumped into his arms. She was a fit young woman with dark hair, and unnaturally dark eyes, either from lack of sleep or just years of stress. There was always the idea in the back of Deacon's head to just settle down, get a normal job, and act like a white knight and carry the girl off into the sunset, but there was still that lingering doubt about the strange death of her father.

       "I'm not bad, I'm actually dealing with a few strange cases though and I thought that you would like to help with it a little bit. I brought some gloves for you to handle it with, we can't dust it for prints due to the age, but you know how these things go." He let her go and handed her the old bloodstained piece of paper, still in it's protective plastic and a pair of gloves. She quickly threw them on and gingerly slide it free of the plastic protection.

       For a moment, she looked at it like a child would a rubix cube. Then she sat at her study without a word, and began to study it carefully. Deacon always found this aspect of Haley amazing. She could read just about anything if you gave her a few minutes. When he first met her she was reading "Dante's Inferno" in Italian. It only took her a few days to master everything about the romantic languages and she was always able to read the most bizarre things.

       "Ooo, I see. See, this is a few different languages, if you can call them that. Symbology, I guess, works. But anyway, these are found in a lot of old texts found in places like the ruins of Hyborea, Sumeria, places like that. Pre-Bible Arabia." She smiled as she continued to study. "Anyway, I remember reading about stuff like this in some old history books. These right here would be called summoning sigils. And this one is called the Yellow Sign. I'm not sure what it's roots are but it's found in a lot of books banned by the Vatican." Deacon leaned on the desk next to her.

       "So these are satanic?"

       "Well, not quite. Depends on how you mean the term. These are from before the concept of the Devil as we know it existed. But they are adversarial to whatever gods were worshiped at the time and place from what it's preaching. I've seen stuff like this in really old stuff up at the university when they let me use the library. A lot of these symbols stopped being used well before the start of the first century. This page is most likely a reprinting of the original. Can't be that old, maybe...a few centuries old, five or six...maybe longer. But anyway, this page is all about summoning things. See this sign right here? They called it the 'Episimi Egkrisi Kokkinos Basilissa'. Though a lot of the time it was just shortened to 'Sfragida Kokkinos'.”

       “Which means?”

       “Red Seal. It's apparently what is supposed to give life to something in exchange for the life of something else. Crazy stuff. There were other ones, each one had something to do with a different color. Like the yellow one is supposed to focus on bringing life to artificial creations. Spooky stuff."

       "Alright, so how did Gauge get it?"
 

       "Who?"

       "This was found rolled into the barrel of a hunting rifle that a guy that I used to know used to shoot himself."

       "Who put it in the gun?"

       "Well, I think he did. See, powder burns, blood...yeah. Grizzly stuff. But he had marks like these carved all over his body. We also found a few other bodies over the last few years with similar things carved into them."

       "Whoa, so you think it's..."

       "A cult. If this was put in by Gauge, he meant for it to be found. He's was trying to tell me something but I really can't tell what."

       "Wow, I still don't get how it could have survived the blast, it's practically falling apart."

       "Yeah, it's seriously creepy stuff."

       "I've seen worse." She smiled slightly, letting out a nervous chuckle.

       "I don't doubt that." Deacon tried to smile back, but it only made him feel awkward. "Anyway, I have to head out, finishing up a homicide slash theft case tonight."

       "How do you know?"

       "I'm lucky that way. Um, do you want to keep looking at the page until I can get back over here?"

        "Yeah!" She turned in her chair. "I should have a translation of some of it done in a few days so just remember to come back." She stood, hugged him tight, and walked him to the door. The sky had turned a purple hue as the sun began to set. Angela made sure he had his hat, and that he 'would get some food, he was skinny as a rail'. With that, he started the short drive back into town. Time to meet the "Family" at the Matsunagi Building.

______________________________



       The building was very still, almost unpleasantly so. The only people visible were a strangely beautiful Japanese woman dressed like she was just leaving a traditional wedding and a solitary old man, sleeping in an alley way. No sounds, barely any lights aside from the glare of the passing cars in the busy street. Even the security guard that should be stationed at the front was gone. Deacon wanted to turn and stop the man, but his urge was quelled by a gurgling scream coming from the floors above. Deacon produced his side arm and began to make for the stairs when he slipped. He didn't crash into the ground, just merely slide slightly. He glanced down to see a streak of cooling blood coming from the elevator doors. With gun pointed, Deacon pressed the button for the elevator, watching it open slowly. He barely had a chance to avoid the body falling hard to the ground next to him. The man's throat had been ripped out and the culprit wasn't far behind. With a blur of gray fur, a wolf pounced Deacon, catching him unaware but not unprepared. He rolled with the impact, sending the creature sliding across the floor as he managed to squeeze off two rounds, dropping the beast where it stood.

       "How the hell did you get in here, beasty?" Deacon glanced around and after insuring the creature was in fact dead he started again for the stairs. Again he heard screams from several flights up. Deacon began to move faster but still watching out for any more animal surprises.

       The fourth floor was where Boss Matsunagi kept his 'court' as it was. Deacon knew that much from what the other cops had informed him of. The hallways were flickering but well lit. Deacon took this chance to phone in for backup. He should have done it earlier but again, he didn't expect to be attacked by a wolf.

       The scream came again. Deacon charged towards the room with the screams and found the door to be locked.

       "Get away from the doors!" Deacon yelled as he put a bullet through the lock and kicked the door wide. There was silence for a moment, before Tatsuro stood up from behind the desk, a blood knife in one hand, and a hand full of human skin in the other.

       "Drop the knife!" He slowly turned to Deacon with a half lidded stare, blood reflecting like a metallic black fluid against the moon light.

       "I had to stop them...the things were coming out of his skin!" Deacon slowly approached him and glanced behind the desk to see the mangled remains, nearly skinless, of Boss Matsunagi. "There's a serpent in here! That woman did this! The old legends were all true!" He continued to mutter, now beyond comprehension.

       "I found a wolf, but no serpent...now come on, we need to go." Deacon folded Tatsuro's hands behind his back and locked them with a pair of cuffs. Deacon then got to see exactly what had happened. The guard stationed at the door had a number of dagger like wounds in his neck, Matsunagi had been nearly skinned, piles of his tattooed skin laying near the red muscled mass. The sirens outside signaled the back up was there, but there was no use for it. Investigation would show eight other dead bodies in the building, with the same dagger marks in the necks. Deacon handed Tatsuro over to be taken into custody and turned back into the building.

       "Did you find the wolf?" The crime scene crew only looked at Deacon confused.

       "What wolf?"

       "The man in the elevator was mauled by a wolf. Damn thing jumped out after me but I dropped it with two shots. It should be right over the..." Deacon's words stopped as he walked to the spot where it happened. There was no wolf, but there was one curious thing.

       A hunk of human flesh with an illustration of a mad wolf, with two fresh bullet holes piercing it. Finally, the book was recovered though. One of the younger cops brought it to Deacon with a “Can I have a raise?” smile. Deacon nodded and opened the old leather-bound tome. Deacon turned to his car as Animal Control arrived. Apparently there was a 12 foot python in one of the offices.

“Oh, you've got to be kidding me...” The pages were old, heavily inked, worm eaten, and torn but it was all there. Strange rituals, ancient language, and close to the middle was the remains of a torn page. The exact tears that were found on the page curled up in the barrel of Gauge's gun.

       As they wrapped up the scene, Deacon was already in route to the Black Dragon. The place was empty though. Even the sign was gone. Everything that had anything to do with the Tcho-tchoTcho was gone aside for one startling thing.

       The real source of the "White Pork" was found, hanging by hooks and chains in the meat locker. They too were covered in the same horrible carving found on the bodies of Gauge and the Skinny man.

___________________________________

       Deacon found out exactly what was written on the page that Haley had. It was a bizarre quotation from the strange book. It was as she suspected a summoning ritual. The Strange symbol carved on the bodies, and tattooed in the flesh of Matsunagi was in fact one of the strange symbols on Gauge's page. Deacon and others found that the Black Dragon must have been part of a larger cult operating on capturing it's victims from it's restaurant base. Drifters mostly. People no one would miss. People like Gauge. Problem this time is that someone did miss one of these people, and this time they were found out. They weren't caught yet, but the word was out and now it would only be a matter of time. But that book remained. The strange, aged yellow pages seemed to draw in his attention in the same fashion a person would slow down for a car wreck. There was one thing repeated though in the book and the same marking was found on all of the victims. It was a strange phrase that should have been meaningless, but it resonated anyway for some unknown reason.

       "Husk Walker."