"Demon hunters are the most alone folk in the world,"  Hornsby said, with a puzzled look.  "Didn't Lady Chang tell you that ?  And...40 years, that's a magic number around here, and ten of them, well, that's powerful, it's a quarter way to the end of the world."

He finished his coffee, and then thoughtfully began picking his teeth with a toothpick.  "I guess you could say," he said, after mulling it over, "that the religion around here is mickle different than the one you know.  Not that what you got ain't valid, just that things are..."  He shrugged, "...different here."

Brother Clary shook his head.  "Never met the Lady.  I dealt only with Billy."



"The Deluge lasted 40 days and nights, the Children of Israel wandered 40 years in the wilderness, Jesus fasted for 40 days in the desert...." The preacher's voice trailed off as he thought about that "magic" number.  "End o' the world, huh?  Guess that's maybe why I'm here," he added thoughtfully



Brother Clary wiped his mouth and gathered up his rucksack and shotgun.  "Well, I reckon we oughtta git started then.  Different or no, I still beleive that My God is big enough to deal with this situation.  And ifn' he doesn't, well, that jest means He's got other plans..."

Hornsby smiled, a smile that had undertones of bitterness.  "It's gotta end sometime," he said, of the end of the world.  "Most things do.  All right, then, Padre, let's get going."  Finishing his coffee and flipping the girl a couple of coins, he got up and sauntered off in a leisurely fashion.

The town had a thriving rubber industry, and already the smell of rendering the sap was tainting the air.  Hornsby led Brother Clary down to the docks, pausing to purchase a burlap bag of tuberous roots, another one of flour (which Hornsby stacked on his shoulder like a navvy), and a big wooden canteen.  Eventually they arrived at the docks, where a number of long, low-built river boats were waiting.  One was cruising past, with the stunning Hispanic woman standing at the prow.  Hornsby had hidden, quick as a wink, and did not show up again until the boat was long gone.

He offered up a guilty grin, then went to a small, blue and white painted boat, where a native man in a simple loincloth was waiting patiently, a bow and quiver of arrows by his bare feet.  "This here's Billie," Hornsby said. "Billie, this is..." he looked back at Brother Clary, "you know, I'm bad with names, takes me forever to remember 'em.  Did you tell me who you were ?"

"Brother Clary," he said, sticking out his hand to shake the hand of what he presumed would be his "native guide."

The smiling little native man touched Brother Clary's hand, apparently unfamiliar with handshakes, and uttered a lot of high-speed babble. "Says he's pleased to meet you,"  Hornsby said, and set his purchases down, covering them with a tarpaulin.  There was enough room in the boat for the three men, enough to even stretch out and sleep, and from the look of the rolled-up blankets, that was going to be the way of it.  Then Hornsby spoke in the strange fast language, adding the word Senorita in there, and the little man laughed.  "I asked him to steer clear of her boat,"  Hornsby added, sheepishly.

They got in, and the little native started up a tiny engine, which did indeed push the boat along at a steady pace.  They had begun to move along the mighty Amazon.  Traffic was heavy; barges bringing in barrels, taking raw materials, and plenty of smaller boats.

"What did you do to that woman to make her so angry with you and you so scared of her?" Brother Clary wondered aloud.  "She looks as if she would bite your head off and use the hole in your neck for a spitoon."



As they slowly made their way up river, the preacher looked over at Hornsby.  "Tell me about the Lipani."

Hornsby gave a raffish smile that implied that the Devil walked beside him all too often. "Got a little too close, I reckon," he said. "Some women, you can't depend on them being soft and gentle when they're crossed.  But I reckon it's cos I told her daddy where to find a cure for illnesses, and he went off and left her."

The emerald green foliage and black water was definitely different, and the heat of the day was wearing in, sending Hornsby into a doze while the little Indian silently, cheerfully, guided the boat on its course.  The white man startled at Brother Clary's query.  "Huh ?"  he asked. "The Lipani ? You mean, the Lupino."
"G'chai-de-ollo Lupino," Billy said, with a nod, patting the side of the boat. "Che-lugannz, ch'gkh a ha diloka."
"They live where we're going," Hornsby said. "They're an old people...oldest in the land.  They know the old ways.  About the Earth, how it formed, the old animals...life, death, plenty of questions that they have all figured out, but sometimes the answers, they're not what you were looking for."  He shook his head slightly, lost in a reverie. "They know all about good, and evil though.  All about it."

"Sorry 'bout that.  Reckon my accent got in the way," he added with a sheepish grin.  "Lupino," he repeated slowly, allowing his lips to form the word correctly.



From his rucksack Brother Clary pulled out the carefully wrapped cross.  And how does this figure into the story?"

Hornsby looked at the cross with some puzzlement, then a flash of recognition lit his eyes.  "I ain't seen that in a passle of years !"  he said.  "That's the Demon Cross sure enough; but only someone with faith, with the gifts to fight Demons, can have the use of it. Seen Padre Domingo de Santos whip down a demon bigger than that tree."  he pointed to a particularly large tree overhanging the river. "Seen little Missy Chang use it, too.  But it's not my business; you want to talk to the Wise Old Man. He's the leader of the Lupino.  Has been for time out of mind."

At the name of Father Domingo, Brother Clary's ears perked up.  "So what can you tell me about 'Padre Domingo?'  that's the name on the back of the cross, and If'n I can learn a little bit from history, it might help a little later on..."

Hornsby's face took on a wistful look.  "It's been a long time," he said. "A very long time.  He was a Missionary, Padre Domingo.  Travelled with some pirates, for a time, went to live among the Lupino.  Used to argue with the Wise Old Man something fierce, too.  It was like watching two sides of the same coin argue."  He grinned then, lost in another memory. "But...when the earth opened, and the demons came out, Padre Domingo never faltered.  He was a tough old bird.  Dead a long time now, a very long time indeed; he was a holy man, so I 'spect he's gone to Heaven.  There was only God, for him, and the other ways were the Devil's ways.  He might've been right."

"I reckon I might have gotten along with him quite nicely," Brother Clary drawled.  "How did he die?  Did the demons get him?"

Hornsby shrugged.  "He got old," the man said, "And passed away into I don't know what." He fell silent again, and Brother Clary was left with an impression of more memories intruding on Hornby's thoughts.  Billie was just guiding the boat along, smiling cheerily.

Nodding absent-mindedly, as of he was agreeing with Hornsby's unspoken thoughts, Brother Clary turned and opened his rucksack, pulling out his well-worn black leather bound Bible.  He opened it up to roughly the mid-point of the book and bowed his head.  He began to read aloud, but softly, as if he was praying:

"He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust.

Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.

He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day;

Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday.

A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.

Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked.

Because thou hast made the LORD, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation;

There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling.

For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.

They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.

Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet.

Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name.

He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him.

With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation."
(Psalm 91:1-16)

Hornsby, off in his own little world, drifted back for the last of the words. "You ain't seen nothing, yet, preacher,"  with an enigmatic, slightly sad smile.  "There are plenty of gods.  All of them answer, if you know how to ask.  I've seen the reward of the wicked...you will too.  In time.  All in time."  He chuckled then, and settled down to sleep, pulling the hat over his face.

Brother Clary looked over at his guide, shook his head, then decided that perhaps sleep wasn't a bad idea.  Holding his shotgun close, he too settled in for a nap.

Brother Clary slept, but could not escape the thought that there was a conversation going on, just outside of the wakefulness.  The voices were soft and melodic, far away, and twining themselves in his dreaming mind.

"Captain...captain, look up there...look at it !"
"Trust to my map, Jonathan, twill guide you the fastest way. I had it from a shaman himself..."
"...Drink of the blood...take the secrets to your soul...or face the monsters that the ages of the earth have spawned...."
"Beware, preacher, the worst demons are the ones that look like men.  Trust in the God you know, but be wary of the gods you do not know."
"Each has its power; earth, air, water, fire.  To the end of time, all of the strength of the ages of the earth are gathered at the end of your journey."

Forcing himself out of this strange nightmare, The black-clad preacher woke, sweating heavily.  Those words, heard, but not heard, would be seared into memory for years to come.

He immediately reached for his Bible, and sought comfort and courage once again from the book of Psalms, as he so often did:

(1)  The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
(2)  When the wicked, even mine enemies and my foes, came upon me to eat up my flesh, they stumbled and fell.
(3)  Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear: though war should rise against me, in this will I be confident.
(4)  One thing have I desired of the LORD, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to enquire in his temple.
(5)  For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in his pavilion: in the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me; he shall set me up upon a rock.
(6)  And now shall mine head be lifted up above mine enemies round about me: therefore will I offer in his tabernacle sacrifices of joy; I will sing, yea, I will sing praises unto the LORD.
(7)  Hear, O LORD, when I cry with my voice: have mercy also upon me, and answer me.
(8)  When thou saidst, Seek ye my face; my heart said unto thee, Thy face, LORD, will I seek.
(9)  Hide not thy face far from me; put not thy servant away in anger: thou hast been my help; leave me not, neither forsake me, O God of my salvation.
(10)  When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up.
(11)  Teach me thy way, O LORD, and lead me in a plain path, because of mine enemies.
(12)  Deliver me not over unto the will of mine enemies: for false witnesses are risen up against me, and such as breathe out cruelty.
(13)  I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.
(14)  Wait on the LORD: be of good courage, and he shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the LORD.
(Psalms 27:1-14)

The little native fellow, Billie, nodded and smiled as Brother Clary read his Bible.  Hornsby was sleeping peacefully.  Then Brother Clary noticed something in the water; something a pinkish colour, like an arm, and looked at it, startled.

It was the nose of a dolphin, a pink one, swimming alongside the boat; there were three more, around the boat like a vanguard.

Brother Clary stared at the dolphin for a long while, bemused.  Must be some sort of sign, he thought.

Catching Billie's attention, he indicated the trio with a nod of his head, and a question in his eyes

"They peoples." Billie said, his English not quite clear enough, but he grinned and nodded. "Peoples of the river."  The dolphins seemed cheerful too, and contentedly swam alongside the boat, and all of a sudden, dove below and were gone from sight.

Then a sound came to Billie's ears - he looked back over his shoulder, and then Brother Clary heard it.  There was another engine, on another boat, coming closer, but it was impossible to see it in the twisting turns the river looped along.  Finally there was a flash of white in the shadows, the prow of another riverboat, and then the crack of a rifle.

Billie's forehead exploded into a red splatter and he slumped over, the boat skewing to the right, headed straight for a heap of tree roots !

"Hornsby!" The Texas preacher shouted at the napping guide.  "We got trouble!" At the same time, he jumped up, grabbed his shotgun and levered cartridges into the chambers.  He moved toward the tiller of the boat, keeping his head as far down as possible while trying to get in a better position. to either get a shot off at their attacker, or to get the boat back under control.

Hornsby was suddenly awake, and stayed low in the boat, while most other folks would sit up and look around to see what all the fuss was about.  Brother Clary moved over to where the body of the native Billie was slumped, ducking as another rifle bullet whizzed past his ear and splintered a tree branch they were coasting past, and then the boat stuck fast in the tree roots.  The other boat drew closer.

"No !"  Hornsby said, scurrying up to pull at Brother Clary's leg. "It's the Mapmaker; come with me. Over the side.  Trust me and you'll come to no harm !"

The good brother looked at Hornsby wonderingly.  There were only two things in the boat that he was hesitant to leave behind.  His well-worn Bible, one that had all of his notes for his tent sermons, and his 12-gauge, a gift from his father.

With a grimace, he left his pack and Bible in the boat, but considering the present threat, prepared to follow Hornsby over the side, still clutching his shotgun.  "Thy Word have I hid in mine heart..." he muttered to himself.

Hornsby went over into the black water, his hand tight on Brother Clary's forearm.  The water looked terribly dark and turbid, but oddly enough, Brother Clary could see through it very clearly; he could see the worried look on Hornsby's face as the man pulled them into a tangle of roots at the side of the river, he could see the boat, and the trees, even a scrap of sky, and all the weeds and similar around them.  The water was about six feet deep.

It then occurred to him that they would quickly run out of air, and as he started to scramble for the surface, Hornsby held him down and pulled a reed from a patch of water-weeds, and gave it to him to breathe through.

Hornsby, however, did not bother with one.  He merely sat there, jammed against the roots, and watched.  A small silvery fish swam lazily along his cheek, then hid in his floating hair.

Presently, the other boat came closer; they could see the man with the rifle, a bitter-faced man with an eyepatch much like Hornsby's.  This man hopped into their boat and rifled around, taking the pack and the bible and tossing them to the man on the other boat, an older fellow in adventurer's khaki's.  The body of Billie was dumped from the boat, and drifted away on the current.  Then the rifleman was given an order by the older man, who had a British accent, and left their boat quickly. "Come on - no time to waste.  Our intention is to cause delay.  Spray the river and the boat just in case."

Then the man with the eyepatch picked up a Thompson submachine gun, loaded a clip into it, and fired into the river and the bottom of their boat with great deliberation.  Soon the boat was sinking, and then the other boat went onward.  Brother Clary looked back at Hornsby, who was clutching his right shoulder with his free hand, but when the man pulled his hand away from his shoulder, there was only a hole in the fabric, no sign of blood.  The fish blew an idle bubble and lazily swam away.

Hornsby made a sour face as the boat joined them on the bottom, then indicated that Brother Clary should stay where he was for a moment.  The man cautiously rose up, and seemed to be listening; then he went back down, miming to Brother Clary to wait.  Another boat was coming, this one silent; it was blue and white, and there was a man poling it along, a thin youth of about 17 years.  Two women, one in a blue dress, were seated in it, and another man, one with a hardbitten look and a handgun, was watching for trouble at the prow.  Hornsby grinned suddenly and went back up, and Brother Clary could hear him speak, to someone on the boat, and the replies.

(Scene Change to The Dark Amazon)