Jude pinned Paul face-down on the bed, his left arm forced high behind him, Jude's knee in the small of his back. Paul twisted and squirmed on the mattress, bucking and thrashing to no effect . Michael sat on the floor. Paul felt a small satisfaction as the blood poured from Michael's nose again. He had only managed a couple of punches before the two fell on him, but the chain around his right fist would leave evidence of its passage across Michael's face tomorrow.

"Brother Michael," said Jude panting with effort. "I really need you to restrain his other arm. As soon as we have him settled we can see to your injuries, but for now you must gird your loins."

"What are you going to do when this doesn't work, Michael?" said Paul. "What about you, Mary? How long are you going to keep me chained up here? What are you going to say to the police when they arrive?"

Michael grabbed the chain and started to work his way along it hand over hand. Paul wriggled and thrashed his arm around, but he only had one arm free to Michael's two, and there was only so much he could do with his face forced into the mattress.

"Just think it through, for Christ's sake. Kidnap, assault, where's it going to end? You really want to be a party to this?"

"It's for Christ's sake, and yours, that we are doing this, Brother," said Jude.

Michael reached the end of the chain and leant on Paul's wrist with all his weight, trapping it on the bed.

"It's for your own good," said Michael, but he didn't sound totally convinced. Unfortunately, he appeared sufficiently convinced to keep Paul's hand pinned down. "We're saving your soul."

"Bring the handcuff key here, Sister," said Jude. "Bring his wrist here, Brother."

Paul pushed and pulled, but it was hopeless. His wrist joined its partner behind his back. He lay still. He could do nothing to stop them.

"You're going to jail, you know that, don't you?" he said, as Jude cuffed his wrists together.

"By your own admission, you have a demon. The fact you are resisting us so much is proof enough that we are in the right. When we have freed you from it, you will thank us."

It seemed to Paul there was an 'or else' hanging in the air after the last sentence. But perhaps he would. The nausea and pain had left him. Maybe Scarth had left him as well. Perhaps all that was needed to rid himself of the demon was separation.

Convincing Jude and co Scarth was gone might be another matter though.

The weight lifted off his back and the two men stepped back. Paul twisted onto his back. Jude sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on Paul's shoulder in a paternal gesture, though coincidentally holding Paul still.

"I know it's hard, Paul, but hang in there. We will cast this demon out."

A siren call sounded in the distance. It sounded familiar. Paul's heart sank.

"Listen to me. This is important. He's coming." Paul looked from face to face. "Scarth. I can hear him. He's tracked me down. Let me go. I've seen him do this before. He'll kill you."

Paul kept his voice low as the distant shriek continued.

"We have our faith to protect us," said Jude. "Let him come, Paul. Let him rise to the surface."

"No, you don't understand. It doesn't matter about your faith. I saw him eat a priest." Privately Paul had to admit that Father Mike's faith had seemed somewhat informal. Would a strong faith be proof against Scarth? Paul doubted it. The demon was too stupid to understand faith. He was too stupid to understand you couldn't eat toasters.

"He will not be able to prevail against a true believer," said Jude, and the tone of his voice suggested the circle of true believers did not extend beyond this cellar. "Let him come."

"But he's not in me. Can't you understand?" The howl had stopped. Did that mean he was approaching? "Handcuffing me isn't going to do anything. He's coming now. Get out. Leave me here if you must, but get out now, before it's too late."

Jude turned to the others. "Satan is the father of all lies. See how the demon is trying to lie his way out of trouble? That's a measure of how frightened it is of us."

In the distance, the howl started again.

"For the love of God, at least let them go!" Paul shouted, his desperation lending urgency to his voice. "If you want to commit suicide, fine, but don't drag them down with you." He turned to the two acolytes standing up against the wall. "Run! Now, while you have the chance."

"Nobody is leaving, Paul. Or should I say Scarth? It's the demon talking though him now."

"No it's not. Scarth can't string three words together." Tears formed in Paul's eyes, partly from frustration and anger, but mainly for the scene he dreaded was coming. Why should he care? These people had kidnapped and beaten him. But he did.

A third howl from outside, and this time it was closer.

"Oh, God, he's here," sobbed Paul. "Jesus, you stupid bastards. I tried. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Brother Jude?" Sister Mary's voice was quavering with uncertainty.

"Have faith, Sister. It is a ploy of the demon, that's all." Jude grabbed Paul by both shoulders and shook him hard. "We will not fall for your lies, Scarth. Now, in the name of Jesus, leave this body."

Paul looked into Jude's eyes and saw the bind conviction in them. It was hopeless.

"He's here," said Paul, quietly. He was resigned to their fate, now. "You might want to let go of me, Brother. He killed the last person that he found attacking me."

There was a crash from upstairs. That sounded typical of Scarth's progress through the world. Mary gave a frightened squeak.

"Is that the demon?" asked Michael.

"In my experience, demons do not use doors, Brother Michael. Go see who it is, and get rid of them."

That was true enough. Scarth probably wouldn't use a door, he was more likely to crash through one.

Jude clamped his hand over Paul's mouth. Paul thrashed his head about, but Jude held it still with his other hand. "Shh!" he crooned, as though to a fretful child. Paul tried to tell him with meaningful looks and eyebrow movements that, with his mouth covered, he would not be able to command Scarth to cease and desist, and without such a command the likelihood of any of them avoiding Scarth's ravenous appetite was slim. It was a brave attempt, but he suspected that all Jude saw was a Groucho Marx impression.

"What if it's the police?" said Mary in a stage whisper.

"It isn't," whispered Jude back. "It will be a seeker, or kids. Have faith, Sister. Michael will deal with it."

The three of them waited. Would Scarth be able to find him down here? How had he found him in the first place?

Paul tried to free his mouth, but Jude had his head firmly clamped front and back. He tried to bite Jude's hand, but couldn't get anything to grip in his jaws. Finally, he thrust his tongue hard between two of Jude's fingers.

"Eew," cried Jude, jerking his hand away in disgust.

"Scarth," shouted Paul. He heard the noise of someone descending the stairs. Jude, stood and turned to face the door. It burst open, and Michael staggered in, held by the collar by Oz. Oz casually tossed the lad aside and walked up to Brother Jude.

"You!" shouted Jude. "How dare you come into the house of God, you heathen!"

Without breaking his stride Oz launched his fist at Jude's midriff, throwing all his considerable weight behind it. Jude's feet lifted off the ground as he folded over Oz's extended arm and he fell to the floor, curled up and gasping.

"Technically, I'm a pagan, not a heathen," said Oz. "You all right?" he asked. Paul nodded. He whirled on his heel and advanced on Michael.

"And you, there aren't sufficient words to describe you, you viper in the nest." Oz grabbed Michael by the neck and pinned him to the wall. Michael tried in vain to swing a punch at Oz's face.

"Master!" Scarth appeared in the open doorway and bounded over to the bed like a puppy. "Master!" he repeated, wrapping his arms around Paul's legs.

"Scarth, by the seven scrolls of the beast of pain, I adjure thee not to hurt anyone," shouted Paul. "You hear me? No hurting anyone, and no eating anyone."

"Master!" said Scarth, apparently happy just to hold onto Paul's legs for the moment.

"Aw, that's so sweet," said Ess from the doorway. "He missed you."

"Yeah, wonderful," said Paul, without enthusiasm. "Just sit on the bed, Scarth, and don't touch anything. Be good."

"Scarth good," said Scarth and sat on his hands.

Meanwhile, Oz continued his rant at Michael.

"I brought you into my house, my own home, I gave you extra tuition, I let you make me cups of tea, and how did you repay me? By betraying me, you turncoat, you traitor, you ... you ... little shit!"

Michael had given up on trying to punch Oz and was instead ineffectually swinging away at the arm that pinned him to the wall.

"I should let that demon eat you, you toerag. Piece by little piece. Oh, hello." For the first time
Oz noticed Mary standing by the wall. "Who are you?"

Mary worked her jaw, but no sound came out.

"That's fine, Sugar. In your own time. No need to rush."

Mary took a deep breath.

"Sister Mary," she stammered.

"Ooh. Sister? I've always had a soft spot for nuns. Were you named after the Virgin Mary?"

"Not ... not a nun," managed Mary.

"Ah. Really? Are you not a virgin either?"

Mary looked at Michael. "Are you going to kill us?" she asked.

Oz followed her gaze. Michael's face had turned from red to purple, and his attempts to beat Oz's arm away were more sporadic. Oz appeared to weigh the pros and cons for a few seconds, then reluctantly relaxed his grip. Michael slumped against the wall, coughing and gasping.

"Listen to me, you self-righteous little prick," said Oz. "You've failed my course. Not because of you joining this church. Your beliefs are no more ridiculous than mine. Not because you acted on those beliefs. Faith without works is dead. But as soon as you force your beliefs on others, you sanctify tyranny, and God knows enough people have been put off religion because of that. Now piss off, before I really do call down Satan and all his demons on you."

Oz grabbed Michael's shoulder and propelled him towards the door. Then he turned and smiled at Mary, smoothing his hair back in place. "I'm so sorry," he said. "I expect you'll be wanting to trot away now, too, hmm?"

Mary nodded, wide-eyed. Oz stepped aside and swung his arm aside in a sweeping invitation to the door. Mary edged along the wall, keeping her face to Oz.

"Wait!" Oz suddenly cried. He reached into his pocket and gave a small card to the frozen girl. He extended his little finger and thumb and held it to his ear. "Call me," he said, and winked. Mary bolted for the stairs.

"And what are you lying about for, young man?" he boomed at Paul. "Don't you want to leave?"

"I'm handcuffed," said Paul, struggling to a seated position on the edge of the bed.

Oz walked over to the prone preacher. "Keys," he said.

"Fuck off!" gasped the preacher.

"That's probably the most honest thing you've said for years. Well, let's see what we can do. Stand up." Oz grasped Paul under the arm and helped him to his feet.

"Oh, they're just toys," he said, turning Paul around and looking at the furry cuffs. "Do you have a hairpin, my Venus?" He turned to Ess and looked at her mass of frizzed hair. "Um, never mind. That brooch will do."

Ess removed a genuine replica of a Celtic cross from her blouse and handed it to Oz. Oz worked at the cuffs with the pin.

"You can pick locks?" asked Ess, amused.

"No, put these aren't real handcuffs. They're easy to jimmy open. I once knew a woman who was open to experimentation." Oz sighed wistfully, and one of the cuffs sprang free. He attacked the other. "Wonderful girl, but very absentminded. Had a touch of attention deficit disorder, I suspect. Anyway, one afternoon she left me on the bed and went shopping." The other cuff clicked open. "If you think this is impressive, you should have seen me pick the lock with a rose stem held in my teeth." He handed the red furry handcuffs over to Ess. "I know you're thinking about me chained to the bed naked, so here's a little souvenir."

Ess took the cuffs carefully between a finger and thumb. "I'm going to need therapy to erase that image from my mind. And a bucket of bleach too, probably." She dropped them into her cotton shoulder-bag, then looked defensively at the raised eyebrows of the other two. "What? I'm not going to leave them here for him to use again, am I?"

Brother Jude sat up.

"You are up shit creek, you bastards," he said. "I am going to have the law on you. Trespass, assault, blasphemy and anything else I can think to charge you with."

Oz bent over, resting his hands on his knees. "Such language!" he said, in mock horror. "And from a holy man too. You're not going to the police, Brother, and this is why. You abducted our young friend here. Kidnapped him against his will, beat him, chained him to a bed with what I can only describe as sordid bondage sex restraints and goodness knows what else. We effected an heroic rescue, just in the nick of time, by the looks of it. I dread to think of the practices you were about to visit on his poor, helpless body. At least, that's the story I shall give to the papers while you preach to the big guy with the olive oil you share your cell with.

"You are not going to call the police, you are not going to attempt to kidnap my friend again, in fact, you are not going to make any attempt to contact us ever. Because, my friend, whether you realise it or not, we have done you a big favour. We have, in fact, saved your life from a vicious demon with a voracious appetite for human flesh. So chew on that before you do anything rash, while we bid you adieu."

Oz turned and walked to the door. He paused and said over his shoulder. "Come on you two. That's our dramatic exit speech. Don't spoil it. Let's get out of here."