Chapter 2

His head hung low like a man aslumber. His craggy, pale features were partly hidden by the robes loose hood. He stared intently at the dark surface of the wooden table before him, his lips moving in a silent incantation. The door opened and she entered.

"Well, do you have news?" He asked, without moving.

"I have news Brother Dashwood. The foolish Reverend has employed a private investigator, he wishes to recover the 'Madonna'."

"Excellent, so he believes in our subterfuge - we can use this. An investigator you say, that is of no concern. Our plans are bigger than one man, one country, or even one continent!" Dashwood smiled manically.

"Yes brother, we will crush them. The cleric is strong though, he has a true faith."

"Faith is good, we just need to shift the object of it, and we shall have him. He will have no recollection of the meeting?"

"No mental recollection, I did leave him with a reminder of our meeting though."

Dashwood roared his approval "You took the Vicar! You had the man of god?" he guffawed.

"Oh yes, and he has the passion as well as the faith. He needs some training in the ways of lust, but he shows real promise."

"So he is marked and vulnerable?" Dashwood asked.

"Marked yes, but strong. It will take time and resolve to weaken him."

"Clarice, you have done well. But your skills of dark seduction are for a more select audience. Do not waste your time on this fool."

"Brother, I sense he is a strong one. A worthy addition to our flock."

"Worthy maybe, but not influential. Our aim is higher Clarice."

"I have needs Dashwood. Needs you gave me, I demand diversions."

"And I have one for you. One I selected personally."

Dashwood snapped his long, bony fingers. A panel slid back and two hooded figures emerged, between them stood a teenaged girl. Dashwood nodded, and the trio walked forward.

Another nod and they stopped. Dashwood smiled briefly, he clicked his fingers once more. The brethren each grasped one shoulder of the girl's tunic and pulled, the garment fluttered to the floor. The blonde girl's barely mature body was exposed to the cold cave air; her nipples puckered.

"But she is a woman, I have not taken a woman." Whispered Clarice.

Dashwood smiled sardonically, and closed his eyes for a moment of intense concentration. When his eyelids pulled back his eyes had taken on an electric blue hue. "Do as thy wilt shall be the whole of the law!"

All hesitation left Clarice, she walked directly to the shivering girl and brought her hands up to cup the generous globes of her bosom. Insistently her fingers tugged at the indolent tips.

The girl sighed, shifting her weight slightly and parting her trembling legs. Clarice fell to her knees, bringing her mouth close to the girl's navel. At the touch of Clarice's tongue the girl's stomach drew back. "Oh nooo..." she gasped. Her hands did contradict her words and fell to ruffle Clarice's auburn hair. Encouraged Clarice swept her tongue down in long, liquid arc's targeting the fine patch of fair hair. Succulent lips met crinkled labia and fused.

Reluctantly Dashwood walked away from the charming tableau, indicating to his brethren that they should follow. The chamber they left was soon filled with gasps and tender cries.

"Well Holmes! That was incredible. Do you believe him?"

"Which part of our discussion do you reference Hove?"

"All of it I suppose, is he a madman? - That picture was just - impossible."

"The icon is possible, his description of its qualities I doubt."

"Ah you doubt what it depicts?" Brighton sighed.

"I really can not comment, I am a man of science, not of religion. My rational mind tells me that the icon is not indestructible. Logic tells me that no inanimate object is capable of renewing itself."

"But the Reverend told us of its survival through fire, storm and attack. Whatever happened to it, the following day it was all ways renewed, untouched by events - no matter how extreme they were. What does that tell you?"

"It tells me there may be more than one icon." Holmes smiled.

"More than one? I do not understand."

"Let us surmise that the illuminati have a vested interest in the propagation of this blasphemous untruth. They would have the resources to replace a damaged icon with a duplicate, knowing it would only add to the images repute."

Brighton grimaced. "Holmes this is too much, how do the illuminati come into this?"

Ned wrapped an affectionate arm around Brighton's shoulder. "I apologise, I am not making myself very clear am I?"

Brighton shook his head. "As clear as mud old chap. Maybe the lack of clarity lies in my mind?"

"You know who the 'Monks of Medmenham' were?" Holmes asked.

"Indeed, the Hellfire club, but that tomfoolery was done with a hundred years ago. Ned, it is history."

"Now, I am not as certain as you of this, there was a rumour that Sir Francis met with the illuminati during his 'grand tour' of Europe. If that is the case the Hellfire club could have had their blessing. The fabled 'Monks' may have passed on but the illuminati are still with us. Still waiting."

"Sir Francis?"

"Sir Francis Dashwood, 15th Baron le Despencer - the founder of the Hellfire club. A club fabled for its orgiastic and satanic rituals."