Hellboy: The God Machine by Thomas E. Sniegoski Page B

walked across the thick dust to slip his arm about her shoulder. "We won't be seeing him anymore."
    "Oh, how sad," she said, allowing him to lead her from the room. "I quite liked him."
    "Yes, he was a kind soul," Absolom agreed. "But there are still so many others in need of my help, desperate for my talents to communicate with the world beyond ours."
    So many others hungry to believe.
    He felt the god Qemu'el's gift to him vibrate against his chest in anticipation.
    "You're a kind man, Absolom Spearz," his wife said, as she gave him a loving peck upon the cheek. "Always concerned with the needs of others."
    "Yes," he agreed. "Now, let's find a broom and clean up that mess before our next appointment arrives."

    Tom Manning sat at his desk and took the crumpled piece of notepaper from his briefcase, a sickly feeling of foreboding churning in the pit of his stomach. He'd thought about staying home, but it just didn't seem like a place he really wanted to be. Now here he was in the neatly appointed office he'd had ever since becoming Director of Field Operations for the BPRD. The view outside the window revealed a gorgeous Connecticut landscape, but inside all was drab and practical.
    He felt cold and alone, and wondered if he was going a bit crazy. It ran in the family, after all.
    The minutes from the morning's staff meeting had been left on his desk, and he placed the mysterious note down beside them. When he'd come awake earlier that morning, lying upon the floor of his office at home, he'd felt disturbed--violated--but now he was beginning to entertain a creeping suspicion that there could be much more at stake here than just the intrusion on his bizarre-free zone.
    He glanced at Kate's notes--reviewing the unique items that had been reported missing, then compared those to what had been written in his note.
    ...King's cup...stone Queen...Virgin wall.
    Manning felt the uncomfortable prickle of perspiration upon his balding scalp and lifted a hand to wipe it away.
    It was clearly a warning. Something-- or is it someone --was attempting to alert him to some kind of threat involving these thefts.
    Don't take any wooden nickels.
    He read the odd phrase again. All morning, memories buried deeply by the passage of time had slowly forced their way to the surface. In his mind's eye he could still see the man, healthy, vibrant, full of life, a sly smile upon his face as if he were the keeper of a secret that could rock the world to its very foundation.
    Manning found himself smiling, warmed by the recollection, but the image was instantly replaced by another; the same man--older, frailer, restrained in a hospital bed, begging to go home.
    "Are you okay?"
    Kate Corrigan stood in the doorway to his office, frowning at him in concern. From the position of her hand, he presumed she'd knocked on the doorframe, but he hadn't heard her until she'd spoken aloud.
    He welcomed the intrusion. Kate had chased away painful memories with things of a more immediate nature.
    "Sure," he said, covering the note on his desk with his hands. "I'm fine."
    "Hellboy and Liz should be up shortly," she informed him. "Do you want me to sit in on this one or...?"
    "No, no, that's all right. I can handle it."
    She nodded and started to leave, but paused. "Are you sure everything's all right?"
    Tom felt a sudden urge to share what had happened to him earlier in the morning, but it wasn't time. There was still too much he didn't know.
    "I'm fine," he said again, forcing a smile.
    She left then, and Manning was alone with the nagging remnants of his past. Wouldn't it be just like him?
    Hellboy and Liz arrived soon after and took seats at his small conference table while he gathered his materials for the briefing. He didn't yet have his answers, but it did not change the fact that something had used him as a conduit to get across a message--a warning of some impending threat.
    Stop them. Was right. DANGER! Go to Waldoboro. Stop them.
    He had no choice but to