Judas was angry with himself. The girl had died, she had been murdered, and now the boy too. When he had been sworn into the Police Force and taken the shilling as it were, he had promised to protect both sides of London’s underworld, without fear or favour, as the old saying goes. But, here he was, filling in a report that no one would ever read with the details of a young man’s end, a life snuffed out by some manner of evil creature with links to a monastic set, somewhere in the past. He took the file to the wall of metal cabinets, pulled out a drawer and placed it inside. Closing the drawer felt like the lowering of a coffin.
without fear or favourHe made himself a coffee, moped about the office for a minute or two, and then gave in and turned to the window and the skyline. In the midd
