Chapter 9

Thomas was rudely wakened by a hefty thud bedside him. He opened his eyes and stared for a long second at the sky. Where was he? He looked in the direction of the noise; sprawled out alongside him was a man.

Slowly the recollection and the pain returned, the man laying beside him, that was his assailant. Thomas went and collected his staff before flipping the unconscious man on his back. He was amazed by the amount of injury he had caused with a simple staff. It was clear that the demon was dead.

"Aye, see devil, even an old man can smite thee with god's help!"

Just to the right of the demon lay a small pocket book, Thomas retrieved it and flicked through the pages. The strange symbols made no sense at all, clearly this had been written in the language of hell itself. Thomas slid the book into his pocket for safe keeping. Then he knelt beside his fallen foe and uttered a short prayer.

"Lord, forgive this beast, be it ever so fell & foul. Please grant its soul peace. Amen."

Thomas stood and walked without hesitation to the manse and entered. The hallway and ground floor were unnaturally quiet, even so, Thomas cautiously searched the area. Eventually his quest brought him to the twin icons. Thomas gazed at the depravity depicted with true hatred. He picked up the gloves.

His decision was made. He would not suffer these images to exist. He smashed the frames on the desk and tore the canvas from them. He shredded the despicable depictions with ease. He inadvisably ignored the dust that flew up around him. Coughing through the haze of particles, Thomas began to laugh manically. The drugs began to take their effect.

He stopped giggling when something flickered past him, just out of the arc of his vision. He swung around quickly, facing into the room. He watched incredulously as garishly hued Imps formed in the walls -and then dashed out into the room as if to taunt him.

His confused mind turned to Mary. He must not let the spawn of hell find her. Upstairs, she must be upstairs - Thomas ran out of The Reverend's study followed by a horde of bickering, argumentative imps. He upped his pace and for a man of his years, flew up the vicarage's stairs.

Dashwood struggled to pull on his gloves, never once taking his eyes from Holmes. "I know you from somewhere! You have been trailing me, Dashwood paused, "You were at the George and Vulture. So you know something of my history."

"Yes, and I am not impressed - it seems you are as foolish as your forebears," Holmes sneered, before slapping Dashwood hard around the face, "Sir, you are a cad. I challenge you!"

Just as Holmes had calculated, this provoked Dashwood into a rage. Impatiently he cast aside his gloves and launched himself at Ned. Brighton grasped the gloves and threw them with all his force far through the window.

By the time he swivelled back - a life and death struggle was going on. Dashwood repeatedly smashed Holmes' head into the skirting board. As Brighton dashed to his friend's aid, he was struck by the incorrigible contrast between the carnal wrestling on the bed and Holmes' desperate defence.

Before Hove could intercede, Ned struck back. He had managed to force his legs under Dashwood. With a mighty roar he straightened them into Albert's unprotected stomach. The surprised attacker was launched across the room. For a brief instant, the carnality on the bed was stilled by Dashwood's unexpected arrival in the very midst of it. Then he disappeared in a sea of curves and legs, the giggles raising a tone in their intensity.

"Get off me you whores, I have no interest - our enemies are upon us!" Screamed Dashwood.

Unfortunately for Dashwood, Thomas had arrived on the landing. He was just in time to hear the agonised outburst. He headed directly toward the third bedroom on the left of him. What he saw there pushed him over the edge of sanity.

To his hallucinating eyes, he saw Satan himself cavorting with his lustful demoness's. Then one demoness turned to face him and he realised his error; this was no child of hell. No, it was an angel with Mary's face - and Satan was trying to ravish her!

With a terrible roar, Thomas launched himself bodily into the tangled throng. Naked demoness's reared away from him, leaving his way clear for an assault on Satan himself. To his eternal dismay the Lord of darkness was too cunning for him. The Devil grasped the angel and used her to shield himself. Then Satan bellowed his rage.

"Get this madman away from me! What is wrong with him? His eyes! - Save me."

Thomas gently manoeuvred the angel to one side, before targeting his hand accurately - his aim was true. Despite the burning pain he felt, Thomas gripped hard and closed his fist securely. He, Thomas Green, had the Devil's own distended genitals trapped in his tight hand.

Satan screamed, clearly trying to summon his foul kind. In immediate response, a wise Thomas twisted his wrist as hard as he could. The Devil released the angel and attempted to flee. Even hampered as he was, by having an irate farmer attached to his most sensitive nether parts, he managed to escape the bed. Slowly the Lord of pain crawled to the door.

Dashwood painfully dragged himself and Thomas out onto the landing. Albert rained blows down onto the old man's head and shoulders, but the stubborn fool clung on grimly. The forced strangulation of Dashwood's testicles was intense, and finally it crushed them to a pulp. Albert winced and felt his grip on reality fail, the world started to darken.

Holmes recovered from the stupefying events first and dashed out to try and prevent Thomas from emasculating his shrieking foe. Ned caught up with the oddly coupled pairing and attempted to calm Thomas.

"Thomas, I do not think our friend will escape. You may let go of him now."

"I have the devil by the tail Mr Holmes, you and Hove just keep the imps away from my angel."

"Thomas, calm now they are just girl's - they will not harm Mary."

"No, not the demoness's, fool! The imps that came out of the walls when I destroyed the foul images." Thomas groaned.

Holmes looked more closely at Thomas, his hair and face was coated in fine dust.

All became clear to him in an instant.

"When you destroyed the images you inhaled a poison Thomas. The things you see are not real."

"Not real? Then why does he struggle so." Thomas asked, before tugging violently on his hand hold.

Dashwood barely reacted, for he was part-way into a swoon.

"Just let him go, you have trapped the Devil well Thomas. Hove and I will take care of him now. You should attend to the angel."

"My Mary, the angel - yes. You are right Mr Holmes."

At once, Thomas stood and walked calmly to the bedroom. He left Dashwood comatose and a mere shadow of the man he once had been. Hove joined Holmes and stared down at Albert Dashwood, whose form twitched slightly at their feet.

"Well, I think he is not too much of a threat, old chap. Nasty thing that!"

"True, remember this event well Brighton. Noxious substances have a habit of catching up with those who abuse them." Ned sighed, and lit his pipe, "A salutary lesson for us all."

"Indeed, most wise." Coughed Brighton.

Hove heard a call from below.

"Mr Holmes, Mr Hove I'm back, with the police!"

"Up here Reverend!" Hove replied.

"Hove?" Asked Holmes.

"Yes, old bean."

"Perhaps you could dress, and encourage the ladies to do likewise. Before our guests arrive?"