I had been told the priest would be carrying the box with him in person to pass into the care of his bishop; it was as he made his way between the car and the Cathedral door that I would have my best chance to take it from him. Working on that scenario, I was almost tempted to throw the job in straight away. Superstitious, as always, I had something against a job on a priest; but a job on a priest outside his own Cathedral, that just seemed to compound the sin. Maybe I was getting too old for this line of work. I didn't want the job, and said so. Get some junkie kids to do it, I said; there's people'd rape their own mothers for you if you give 'em enough smack cash.

But the client was persistent, and he wore me down. I need a professional, he said, this Mr. Samurai; it can't be fucked-up; the prize is too important. The prize, I asked, and what would that be? A... religious relic, came the shaky answer. Worth much? Priceless, he said. Where'd this priest get it? A deathbed, said Samurai, and you don't wanna hear the confession that came with it. He was right, I didn't. There were two things I did wanna know though. If it was worth so much, why was the priest giving it away? Samurai didn't answer. He just said, and the other thing? How much? I asked.

So there I came to be, sitting on the cathedral steps, waiting. I smoked a cigarette. It was mid-morning. A cold winter's day. You could see your breath. The street was wide and bare. There were derelict tenements across the way. Litter blew in a chill wind. Winos argued somewhere nearby. It was a mess. I threw my cigarette down, and stamped on it.

A taxi pulled up at the cathedral steps. I stiffened. A priest got out, and as he was paying the fare, I got a good profile look. Yep. This was him all right. As the taxi pulled away, the priest (an old, stooped man) began to shuffle up the steps towards the huge wooden doors. I stood up, then hurried down to meet him.

Our paths crossed. For a second he glanced at me, hardly noticing I was there. Now was the time. The gun came out of my pocket, into my hand. His eyes widened. I shot him. The sound was like a thunderbolt from God in that empty street. As he fell, I grabbed him. The box was in a parcel in his hands. I tried to wrench the parcel away from him, but he wasn't letting go. He held on for dear life. I had to shoot him again to make him let go. In the face. His nose and lower jaw disintegrated. I was sprayed with blood and teeth. But his eyes kept staring. Long after the light went out.

I'd attracted more attention than 'd hoped I would; and even in this apathetic age, no-one walks past when the priest's in danger. I heard shouts and running footsteps, so I clutched the parcel tightly, and ran. People gave chase; but I'm fast. Across the street, into one of the tenements, and soon I'd lost them in the labyrinth of abandoned homes, abandoned lives.

About an hour later I made it back to my car. The window was broken, glass all over my seat. Someone had stolen my radio. This fuckin' city. I drove to Mr. Samurai's house, changed my clothes before I went in, feeling cold and kinda sick. It wasn't a nice area. I was surprised. But then it wasn't the only property he owned. Just the most convenient, the most secluded. When ready, I banged on the door. The bodyguard opened it, Uzi at the ready. I didn't have to speak. I just showed him the parcel. He nodded and let me in.

Samurai was the gushing convivial host that he always was when a job went well, when there's blood on his hands. He called for drinks, and he called for my money, and he handed me them both, at least once I'd handed him the parcel. He ripped it open. I looked at the 'prize', without much interest. A black box, held in the palm of one hand, with gold detail and patterns on it. Didn't seem very much for a man's life. I said so. I don't know why.

Guess I'm feeling weary in my old age. Sick of it all, sick of myself. Samurai looked startled. Then he laughed. Said it meant nothing to a man's life. But it meant everything to his soul.

He asked me to stick around whilst he opened it. I said no. I had places to be. He offered me more money. I said I'd stay. Because I'm a whore, because I'm scum, because I'm only human, okay? But I said I'd wait in the hall. They could call me if they'd need me. Fine, said Samurai. They closed the door behind me.

I waited. I don't know how long. I ate an apple to kill the time. It was rotten. I sat in a very large and expensive chair. It was uncomfortable. I drummed my fingers. All I could see, all I could feel was the priest's eyes. Staring. I rubbed my temples, partly to dispel the image, partly because I could feel a migraine coming on. Felt like a thousand bells ringing in my head.

Then: the screaming. I was alert and running, both guns out, in an instant, heading down the corridor. I heard the Uzi fire off one burst. Just one. Then silence.

I stopped at the door. It was slightly ajar. Strange blue light shone dimly through. No chance of a sneak entry. I was just going to have to go in blazing. It was the only way into the room. Not my preferred kind of fight. But better than blowing an old man's face off. That decided me. What the Hell? If I died, I died. I didn't care anymore.

With my foot, I swung the door open, and then dived in.

I've never seen anything LIKE what I saw then. The box, the one in the parcel, was floating in mid-air, glowing. There were black chains coming out of it, and hanging on the end of those chains, hooks holding him by the flesh of his face, arms, torso, was Samurai. Standing in a semi-circle around him: things. Creatures. They were human-shaped, but... I can't describe them. Never. And I've seen the worst, or thought I'd seen the worst, that humans could do to one another. But this...

Of the bodyguard there was no sign; but blood, meat and bits of rags coated the walls as though someone had exploded in there; or been ripped apart. No prizes for guessing which.

For a moment I just stood there, awe-struck. Then one of the things, a woman(!) I think, looked in my direction, looked at me. I felt her gaze. Like the priest's. I felt my scrotum shrivel. She hissed, and out of nowhere, chains and hooks came flying towards me, almost faster than I could see.

Almost. But like I said, I'm fast too.

My guns blazed. The chains, severed, dropped to the ground, where they writhed as though wounded. The woman-thing looked at me in wonder. I shot the bitch in the face. She howled, Didn't kill her, but she sure didn't like it.

Good.

Another one, something with it's face ripped up round the jaws by cheesewire, came menacingly towards me. I had plenty of bullets. And a couple of knives. Without their hooks they weren't so tough. I could take them, if need be. Five years before, when I was a real pro, I'd almost have enjoyed the fight. Now... now I truly didn't give a fuck one way or another.

A voice. "Stop."

The creature turned, and looked (at least I think it did; I ain't sure that it had eyes), and so did I. Another creature, pins banged into its head, had appeared from nowhere. I reckon it was in charge. I remained alert, ready to fight at a micro-second's notice.

"Stop?" said the she-thing.

"Stop." the leader repeated. "He did not call us.

Not hands, remember. DESIRE!"

It, he, whatever, looked at me.

"You lack desire. Correct?"

An image of the priest flashed before my eyes again.

"Yeah," I said finally. "You're pretty sharp."

It smiled; or something like it.

"Oh," it said. "I am. Sharp."

There was a pause.

"We could give you your desire back. Desire like you've never known."

There was something in that voice that told me it wasn't telling a total lie; but I was having none of it.

"No." I said flatly. "Nothing can."

It grinned again.

"That is your hell. Leave us now to ours."

It walked to where Samurai hung, and plucked the box from the air. The chains detached themselves, from the box at least, although not from the man, who fell to the ground whimpering. The creature placed the box on a table nearby. Then it turned its attention back to me.

"Go now!" it commanded. "This is not for your eyes!"

I looked down at Samurai for a second. He stared back up at me with imploring in his terror-struck eyes; they shone like jewels in his blood-soaked face. The priest had looked the same when I killed him. On this man's orders. But the priest had done nothing wrong.

I looked back at the pin-thing, and nodded. It nodded too. I about-turned and left the room. As I closed the door behind me, I heard something wet ripping.