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his face as possible. Nightingale stood a yard or so away and leaned against the rail. No other smokers were braving the early-morning cold and biting wind. Nightingale took out his pack, fumbled out a cigarette with his gloved hands and lit it. The young man didn’t turn his head, but spoke quietly. “You’re English?”
    “Yeah. I’ve known Joshua for a while and he wanted me to help you.”
    Mitchell snorted. “You know what you’re up against?”
    “Joshua’s told me everything. I can protect you until he gets here, then you can get on his plane and go wherever you want.”
    “Give me a cigarette.”
    Nightingale offered Mitchell the pack and then lit a cigarette for him. Mitchell inhaled, then blew smoke towards the mainland. “They have so much power, they can do things you wouldn’t believe. I need money and a way out.”
    “Joshua can give you that.”
    “But he’s not here, is he?”
    “No, but in the meantime I’ll do what I can. How the hell did you get involved in all this?” asked Nightingale.
    Mitchell grinned but it was the snarl of a cornered animal. “A girl.”
    “A girl?”
    “A Goth bitch I met in a bar. Laura, her name was. Laura Lost, she called herself. I don’t know if that was her real name or not. I’d had too much to drink, she was high on something, best sex I’d had in a long time. She was covered in tattoos, all down her back. Weird stuff. Pentagrams, horned things, chalices, upside down crucifixes, the whole nine yards.”
    “And she introduced you to the coven?”
    Mitchell’s eyes hardened. “The Apostles aren’t a coven,” he said. “They are way way way more than that. Saying the Apostles are a coven is like saying Hitler had an anger management problem.” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “I went out with her for a while. Well, I say went out, I just went around to her apartment and banged her most nights. When we did go out it was to these weird bars, pop-up places usually, in abandoned warehouses. She told me about stuff she was involved in. Sacrifices. Branding. Hard core stuff.”
    “Branding?”
    “She had some, on her back and her legs. Symbols and stuff, done with a hot iron. She said branding was more ‘real’ than tattooing, whatever that means.”
    “What sort of brands?”
    “Satanic stuff.”
    “And this girl introduced you to Abaddon?”
    Mitchell shook his head. “She was only playing with it. I think it was just about the sex with her, she wasn’t about acquiring power. She showed me a few websites and chat-rooms and I started getting more interested. I could see what I could get out of it.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Little did I know.”
    “So how did you get to Abaddon if it wasn’t the girl?”
    “I started going to a few meetings. Low level stuff at first, chanting, animal sacrifice, burning stuff. Then I got approached by a guy who asked if I wanted to go up to the next level and by that stage I was hooked and I said yes.”
    “Who was this guy?”
    “Cooper, he said his name was. I never found out if that was his first name or his surname. Haven’t seen him for a while. I used to meet him in a bar on Haight. Tall guy, long gray hair, gray eyes.  He promised me I could get what I wanted, money, power, promotions, women, everything. I said I was interested, obviously, and he said he’d check me out. Eventually I got invited to a Sabbat in an old warehouse. I don’t know where, I had to park somewhere and I was taken there blindfold. It was harmless enough, chickens slaughtered, Black Mass, then sex. Sex with women, men.”
    “You make it sound normal.” said Nightingale.
    “It’s the way a Sabbat often finishes. It’s the reason a lot of people get into it, but it was kids’ stuff for me. That was the first, then there were two more, each one a little more serious. Then another guy, much older than Cooper, asked me if I wanted to move up again. I was starting to do a whole lot better in the