seymoure

Chapter 39
“The Enemy”

The group sat around the coffee table that had almost witnessed their deaths just a few hours earlier.

“We look like the walking wounded,” Ethel Muntz said, looking at the bandaged group sitting with her.

While there were Sisters at each corner of the room, they had been able to leave quite a few back at the hospital to oversee Screed’s recovery.

Claus had lowered his sizable frame onto a couch that might have sat three, but gave him a bit of space on either side. His eye patch did not even begin to look dashing, nor did the bandaged arms and legs whose movement caused barely audible groans from the big man. His face looked as though a cadre of cats had attempted to climb him like a mountain peak, and failed.

Muntz herself was a mass of gauze. Even her palms had been criss crossed with razor like slices.

Sanchez and Vaskania were both burned rather badly, a fate the others had been spared due to the gauze coverings that, once quickly put out and replaced, prevented them from getting any severe burns. But the other two men were a symphony of red splotches and wore clothing that smelled of brimstone and burnt human flesh.

There was a knock at the door and Viskania nodded for one of the Sisters to answer it.

All eyes went to the open portal and saw the Sister stand back in awe.

In the doorway stood the man from Ethel Muntz’s dream.

“My name,” He began in a voice that would impress James Earl Jones, “Is Damien Kane. And I have a proposition for you.”