“How do you know my name?” Clement managed as the heavy wooden doors closed behind them.
“My Lord?” the woman ignored his questions and pushed him through the foyer into a long, wide hall. A huge hearth took up the opposite end of the hall and even though it blazed high, it did little to ease the chill gripping the room. Two stout wooden tables hogged most of the floor space.
“Lady Eilyn?” A brawny old man sat at the head of one of the tables. A neat stack of newspapers stood at his elbow as he typed at a laptop. “We have a guest?”
“Yes, my lord,” Eilyn said, “The man from the Gathering Light Historical Society is here.”
“You caught him this year?” the man laughed.
“What do you know of the Gathering Light?” Clement demanded. His cover was blown and the Superiors would be livid.
“He can see the demons behind the gargoyles!” Eilyn said in a breathy rush. The man’s laughter died and the smile fell from his face.
The man stood up and pointed at a huge stone dragon lording over the hall’s gallery.
“You can see that?” he asked.
Clement paused then took the apparatus out of his pack. He held the scope to his face and nearly fainted. The spirit attached to the dragon was huge and inky black. It swirled and dipped, attached to its stone prison by only one taloned claw.
“What happens if it breaks free?”Clement’s hands shook as he lowered the viewer.
“One of us will be dragged to hell.”