John Sinclair: Demon Hunter Volume 5 (English Edition)

By Jason Dark and NAMCOOo

Demon hunting might be dangerous work, but it comes with travel benefits! John Sinclair and Suko travel to Greece in pursuit of a mysterious magician and the secrets of Atlantis! But even the Mediterranean depths are full of threats... Bound by a promise, the gang return to Britain to slay a vampire coven, before taking flight for New York! But with the meter running on a cursed taxi, will Sinclair make it to Romania in time to prevent Dracula's descendants from rising again - or will a certain Impaler beat him to it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J-Novel Club
• Release date: Dec 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781718351288

Book preview

Table of Contents

Cover

The Compilation

About the Author

Episode 17: The Demon’s Eye

Episode 18: The Witches’ Mill!

Episode 19: The Horror Taxi of New York

Episode 20: The Impaler

About J-Novel Club

Copyright

The Compilation

Episode 17: The Demon’s Eye

As old as the world itself and a terrifying weapon in the hands of the Black Death! Assured of victory, he looks through this eye at everything unholy, setting this strange weapon against humans and demons alike in pursuit of total chaos and the ruin of all that’s good. John Sinclair’s newest mission: to destroy the Demon’s Eye...

Episode 18: The Witches’ Mill!

Defenseless, I was bound to the mill’s sail, murderous vampire’s fangs getting closer to my throat. The vampire - Elena - stroked my body with her cold, undead hands. The tips of her fingernails traced a path along my skin, and a shiver went down my spine. One bite, and I’d be done for. It was a harrowing incident that I’d never forget...

Episode 19: The Horror Taxi of New York

Jeff Dever stumbled out of a New York dive bar.

Taxi! Taxi!

Seconds later, a car raced toward Jeff, tyres squealing against the pavement. The cab jolted to a stop, and the passenger-side door flew open. Jeff jumped back in shock at the shadowy driver in his long, dark robe. The faceless figure spoke with a hollow, dull voice: Come to me! The Horror Taxi awaits!

Episode 20: The Impaler

The vampire loved the pale moonlight which granted him a renewed sense of vigour. But Marek clearly recognised those immeasurably large jagged wings flying straight at him. With an iron grip, he took hold of the stake. Suddenly, the vampire pulled back and rose like a proper black bird with his wings fully extended. He felt like the ruler of all Transylvania, the land he considered his realm. Marek managed to keep an eye on him for a few seconds longer, but the vampire ultimately faded into the black of night. The Impaler had seen the bloodsucker. Soon, he would see just how strong he really was...

About the Author

Jason Dark (real name: Helmut Rellergerd) was raised in Dortmund and wrote his first story in 1966, a mystery in the Cliff Corner series. Seven years later, he left his day job as a chemical engineer to join the editorial team at Bastei Verlag, writing and editing for various crime series including Jerry Cotton, Kommissar X and John Cameron before creating John Sinclair. Since Sinclair’s debut in 1973, Jason Dark has written over 1,500 adventures for the Demon Hunter, and his stories have been adapted for comics, audio dramas and a TV series.

Episode 17: The Demon’s Eye

Jane Collins was fighting for her life!

I’d laid her down on a camp bed. Her face was even paler than the white towel that she rested on. The bandage around her wound was soaked in blood, and her lips were drained of colour.

Would she make it? Would she be all right?

I knelt down next to the bed, seeing only her face, with her gaunt cheeks. My eyes were stinging; the fear that she wouldn’t pull through made my throat feel tight.

Two oil lamps burned at the top end of the bed, their light filling the room with a blurry twilight glow. My eyes wandered up to the lamps, and I suddenly felt like they were closing in on me, creating a whirl of fire that brought forth pictures of the past.

Behind me was Suko, my friend and partner. He held his hands clasped together. Every now and again, I heard his heavy breathing.

How did things get so out of hand and end in Jane lying here, fighting for her life?

It had all started when Jane met her neighbour by the lift. The young lady — Sandra Moran was her name — offered Jane a drink in her flat. That was when the horrible incident took place. Sandra had collapsed. Death came for her. But just before she died, Sandra began to say things that startled Jane. The detective had told me that Sandra had promised to return from death.

The lead brought me to a man called Azarin. He owned a small modelling agency that he ran with a lady called Marga. When I tried to investigate the couple, it all led to a dead end, but Jane had been kidnapped by the pair and was being held captive in their basement.

Sandra’s dark prophecy came true. She did return. Suko, who was waiting outside the mortuary, saw her come out and get into a car. He started to follow them, but got into an accident on the wet street. Azarin had picked Sandra up and taken her to the basement cell where Jane waited with two other girls: Franca Corelli and Karin von Rodeneck. These girls were also walking dead. They were awaiting a fourth girl, Colette. When she didn’t arrive, Azarin knew that I was on to him. He couldn’t wait any longer and took the three undead girls and Jane Collins to the airport, where his private jet was waiting for them.

In the meantime, I had started to follow my instincts and went to the agency.

There, I was greeted by Marga and the fourth member of the group of undead. Marga had already started to make preparations and had carried a few canisters of petrol up to the agency rooms. Then, while Marga was provoking Colette to kill me, a spark from my pistol set the petrol alight. It was bloody awful. I only just made it out of the inferno. Though I managed to get Marga out of the building alive, Colette was already done for. But the agency worker had only minutes left to live. In the throes of death, Marga gave me the information I needed, telling me about the Greek island of Delos. There, the undead girls were to be sacrificed in order to raise the demons of Atlantis and herald in a new era for the sunken continent.

Suko and I flew to Greece. In Athens, we visited a man called Kiriakis, who was said to be the enemy of evil. Marga had given me his name. The man could help us, and he knew Delos. With his assistance, we managed to journey across dimensions to the island, where we found four stone statues that resembled the undead girls and managed to prevent their magical resurrection. But this came at a price.

Jane Collins had been severely injured after being stabbed with a knife by Azarin. Having fallen out of favour with his master, the Black Death, he killed himself with the same weapon.

Once again, I witnessed the name of my nemesis. However, I also heard another term: the Demon’s Eye.

The eye was supposed to form the all-important connection between the Black Death and our own world. According to legend, the mysterious eye enabled him to see into the future. It had to be destroyed.

I set myself the task. The only question left was how to do so. But for now, all of that faded into the background.

My focus was on Jane and saving her life.

Suko and I had taken Jane back to Kiriakis’s flat, down in a cellar in the old centre of Athens. Due to the labyrinth of streets and alleyways, and the lack of tourists, the people here lived away from the rest of society.

Kiriakis was nowhere to be found. He had taken his leave and gone to collect something, though he hadn’t mentioned what exactly he was collecting.

I wiped my brow and took a deep breath. Then, I looked back at Jane’s face, trying to see if there was any sign of life.

She lay there as if she were already dead. I stroked her cheeks with my fingertips. Was it me, or were they colder than before? Was this the start of rigor mortis?

‘Jane!’ I whispered. ‘My God...’

I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. ‘It’ll all be fine,’ Suko said quietly.

I shrugged. ‘It’s hopeless. There’s nothing we can do. We can’t defend ourselves, or even...’ I fell silent.

‘Her fate is in someone else’s hands now, John.’

‘Yeah.’

I got up and looked at the pentagram on the floor, a five-pointed star with magical symbols at the intersections. The pentagram had recently saved us when the armies of Hell had invaded our world from another dimension. I could still hear Kiriakis’s voice ringing in my ears: ‘My son! Azarin is my biological son!’

How horrible it must have been for him to learn that his own son had joined forces with the powers of darkness. Indeed, we all had heavy burdens to bear. I felt the pressure of my pistol against my side. If only it had been loaded, Jane wouldn’t be in this position. But I had emptied my pistol, leaving me with nothing to defend her with when Azarin stabbed her. My spare magazine was in my suitcase. My suitcase was in our hotel.

‘Where the hell is he?’ I asked impatiently.

‘He’ll be back soon,’ Suko answered. My Chinese partner trusted Kiriakis completely, which was rare for someone like Suko.

I, however, was finding it hard to breathe in this cellar. My nerves were on edge. I wanted to get out of here and do something, but there was nothing I could do except wait. For Jane’s death... or her salvation.

We could only hear faint signs of life from the old town. At times, I felt like we were in a crypt.

Again, I looked at Jane. Her posture and the expression on her face had not changed. She rested on the improvised bed, silent and pale.

I had wanted to take her to a doctor. To a modern hospital with all the latest machines. But Kiriakis was against the idea. ‘Soon,’ he’d said, ‘I shall return with something that can heal Miss Collins.’

Weirdly, Suko was on his side. He was also from a country where people still believed in the power of ghosts and magic. He trusted Kiriakis.

And me?

So often in my career, I had seen and had to come to terms with things that could not be explained by modern understanding or science. But I refused to believe that this old Greek could do anything to help Jane.

‘He’s coming,’ said Suko, interrupting my maelstrom of pessimism.

Suko had better hearing than I, and indeed, a few seconds later, a shadow fell over the entrance to the cellar.

A man walked in.

It was Kiriakis.

***

The Greek held a flat earthenware bowl in his hand. It was covered with a cloth, so I couldn’t see what was inside.

I walked up to him. ‘Finally!’ I said.

Kiriakis smiled. ‘Surrender your impatience, John Sinclair. Hurry harms even the wisest of men.’

It was his own unique way of speaking, I knew that. Somewhat haughty, and sometimes hard to understand. He also liked to disguise his requests with metaphors. For Suko and I, it was not always easy to follow him.

‘She’s still alive, isn’t she?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘That’s good. I knew it... He told me.’ Kiriakis walked over to where Jane was lying.

‘Who told you?’ I asked.

The man stopped halfway and turned his head, looking at me thoughtfully. As he did so, a smile came across his wrinkled face. ‘Try to contain your curiosity. You will soon get to know him. He can pave the way to the Demon’s Eye for you.’

There was that name again.

The Demon’s Eye!

What on earth did some demonic eye have to do with Atlantis, the island of Delos, and Jane Collins?

I was more nervous than I’d ever been. I felt sweat form on my palms, but that was also due to the humidity, and the ceiling in this place was so low that I could barely stand up straight.

Kiriakis took his place next to the detective. I hurried over to his side.

The sight of Jane almost broke my heart. Her complexion seemed even paler and more translucent. She just lay there, unmoving.

Was she even breathing?

If she died, I would blame myself, even after... I shook my head and tried to banish such horrible thoughts, but they didn’t seem to want to go.

I could have saved her.

Could have, would have, should have.

But I was going to hunt down the one pulling the strings. And then, once I’d dealt with him, I would hand in my resignation. I knew that I may not even survive the fight, but at this particular point, I didn’t care.

Kiriakis pulled the cloth off the crock bowl. Inside was a green, smelly, porridge-like substance. It was still warm. Swaths of steam rose up to the low ceiling.

‘This salve will close up the wound,’ he said.

I cleared my throat.

A small smile flitted over the Greek’s lips. ‘You don’t believe me?’

‘Let’s just say I have my doubts.’

‘And they will soon be banished, my friend. Jane Collins will live.’

His confidence was contagious. I was suddenly sure that Jane would make it.

‘Take her bandage off, carefully,’ Kiriakis said.

He took a step back so that I could get closer to Jane. I stroked her chin and her long, silky blonde hair.

I opened the bandage with infinite care, my fingers shaking. I had to pull myself together and force myself to calm down.

Then I saw the wound. It wasn’t big, no larger than half a fingernail. The blood had already coagulated at the edges, but not so much so that I would have reopened the wound when I took off the bandage.

My hands slid over to the left side of her chest, where her heart was. I wanted to feel her heartbeat, even as weak as it must have been.

My fingers found the right place, where I should have felt it beating. Sweat gathered on my brow as I inhaled through my mouth.

Then, like an evil bolt, the penny dropped. I wanted to shake it off, get rid of it, but my fingers didn’t lie.

Jane’s heart had stopped beating. The detective was dead.

***

Jane Collins had seen John when he’d appeared in the cave, which lit a spark of hope within her. Then, she saw Azarin’s distorted face.

His arm came crashing down. For a second, the blade glistened in her eyes... and then she felt it. She felt the ripping pain, and then... there was only darkness.

Time passed. Jane no longer knew whether mere minutes or even hours had gone by. She wasn’t dead, but she could no longer feel anything. She didn’t know that John had carried her onto the boat. She didn’t know that his hands had shaken as he stood beside her, or that he’d brought her into Kiriakis’s hovel.

At some point, the darkness started to clear. Jane’s spirit left the deep labyrinth of unconsciousness, woke up, was driven to the surface, and...

Suddenly, everything was different.

Jane felt a pain in her chest, right where the weapon had gone in. Her heart started to beat heavily, her heartbeat ringing through her head like a peal of bells. She wanted to scream, to make herself heard... but she couldn’t.

She opened her eyes slightly. It took a while for her to recognise things. She was lying in a room that she’d never seen before. The objects all around her were blurry, as if she were looking through water. She saw people who were moving carefully. They seemed to be floating.

Then a figure came towards her.

It was a man. She could see that. And she knew him. Very well, actually.

It was John Sinclair!

At first, Jane wanted to scream loudly. She wanted to reach out her hand and let him pick her up, but she was paralysed. She couldn’t move her fingers at all. Some cruel fate kept her where she was, despite the fact that help was so close. John stood right next to her.

Why didn’t he say anything? Why wasn’t he speaking to her, to give her hope?

He was kneeling beside her bed, his hands stroking her cheek. She felt it, the soft touch that had all the tenderness that John felt for her. His lips formed foreign words. What was he saying?

Jane didn’t understand it. She started to rebel. Why doesn’t he help me? Why is he leaving me lying here?

A different man approached the demon hunter. It was Suko, John’s partner. He put his hand on John’s shoulder and spoke to him. Once again, Jane Collins understood nothing.

John got up and started to walk away. His form started to blur.

Why is he leaving?! Jane wanted to scream. Why doesn’t he stay here? John, please, don’t leave me. I’m begging you!

Jane thought she was screaming, but nothing came out of her mouth.

The detective remained silent.

The images blurred once again. Something was happening to her that was affecting her senses and reactions. Suddenly, her heart began to hammer furiously. Jane thought her chest would explode any second now. At the same time, she felt an icy chill creep upwards from her feet.

Death was announcing its presence.

Deep in her subconscious, Jane recalled the stories she’d once read about people who had died. They talked about a cold, creeping feeling that slowly worked its way towards the heart, before squeezing it and making it stop.

But seconds before death, the heart starts to rebel. It fights against its final, cruel end. It wants to stop time...

John, please, help me! Please... Please...

Jane’s thoughts were screaming, but John couldn’t help her. He was so close to her, yet couldn’t have been further away.

Suddenly, Jane could see everything clearly again. A third man walked into the room. He had something in his hands. She could see his wrinkled face: the pointed nose, the bright eyes, and the long grey hair that came down to his shoulders. She thought that she’d seen this man before, but she couldn’t remember where. Her memory had forsaken her.

The man walked over to her and John, and said something.

At that moment, Jane felt a stabbing pain around her heart. She felt like she was being torn apart. Then, everything stopped.

No heartbeat... Nothing.

Instead, she felt a certain lightness, the kind of feeling she knew from being tipsy.

Jane could have danced, floated...

Floated?

Yes, she was floating. Or was it her spirit?

She was invisible, gliding over her bed and towards the ceiling.

Now, Jane Collins didn’t miss a thing. She even heard the men talking to each other and understood every word.

‘Dead, she’s dead!’ John said. She saw him collapse, fall to his knees before her bed, and bury his face in his hands.

John was crying.

Suko, too, wiped his eyes.

But I’m not dead! Jane wanted to tell everyone. I’m here! Look. I feel great. I’m even really happy. Come on, guys, dance with me...

They couldn’t hear her. Instead, Jane saw the strange third man take some kind of paste out of the crock bowl and smear it onto her wound. Suko pushed John aside.

‘You’re in the way!’ he said.

Jane wanted to protest, but she couldn’t speak. She managed to project her thoughts, but no one heard her.

With his wide back covering her view, she couldn’t see what Suko was doing to her body. She assumed he was doing chest compressions.

But why? She felt fine. Brilliant, actually. She didn’t want to go back into her body. She had seldom felt so free. She was floating and could have cheered, sung even...

The forms of the three men began to fade into the distance, get smaller and blurrier.

Jane Collins left the room. Walls and windows started to dissolve before her eyes, disappear, then cease to exist.

A world that Jane had never seen before began to appear.

She floated through a long, seemingly endless corridor. The walls shimmered in pastel colours, flowing into each other and constantly forming new patterns.

She was being carried forwards. When she finally reached the end, she could see out into a blooming garden. Jane had never seen anything so beautiful in her life. Crystal clear lakes; large, opulent trees with blossoms that she didn’t recognise; people who had come together to talk and dance. She had never seen people so happy before.

Jane wanted to run over to them. She started to move her legs — or at least she felt that she was doing so — but she was treading water. It looked like she was running on a conveyor belt. She couldn’t move any further forwards.

Suddenly, a figure in white drifted away from the rows of dancing people. It was a woman. She had grey hair, a fair face, and a blissful smile.

‘Mother!’ whispered Jane, genuinely moved. She couldn’t believe it. Her mother, who had died six years ago, was right in front of her.

Oh, how her mother had suffered back then. But now she stood before Jane, smiling happily. Yes, she was happy.

The figure mouthed words that Jane could not hear, but she thought that she read her name from her mother’s lips. Her mother was calling to her. Why didn’t she just come closer? She stretched out her hand and tried to grab her daughter’s fingers to pull her somewhere... but where?

Into the Otherworld!

Was where her mother stood the Otherworld? Paradise? Heaven? Was Jane now going through what she had read about in so many different books and autobiographies? The stories of the other side: the dimension between life and death. People who had been there did not want to come back. What they saw was too beautiful, too fantastic.

Paradise called to Jane. But why can’t I cross over? she wondered. Why am I not carrying on? The corridor is behind me. What’s holding me back?

Jane Collins looked down and was horrified.

Right before her very eyes, she saw a bridge in front of her, spanning an infinitely deep canyon. A canyon that was so deep that the floor was no longer visible. All she could see was a dark mist, a wafting soup from which arms and hands clambered up. The swaths of mist started to flow into one another and find forms. They formed faces, grimaces, and nightmarish creatures.

Jane was frightened.

She wanted to look at the beautiful, magnificent world that she had discovered, but it was moving further and further away. Her mother was now very small. She still held both of her arms outstretched as if she wanted to pull her daughter towards her and hold her to her breast.

Then the wonderful paradise disappeared.

What remained... was horror!

The mist started to bubble and form whirlwinds that rose from the deep — higher and higher — flowing around Jane.

When the horror had become boundless, she saw a figure emerge from the mists.

No, not a figure. Just a face.

Enormous, with dark brown skin that looked like dubbined leather. A broad nose, an open mouth, and two eyes that shot out yellow-red flames that blazed past Jane and joined together behind her.

Jane could no longer move. She was forced to stare into the face — into the grotesqueness of the thing whose eyes had begun to merge together and become one.

Jane Collins stared into the Demon’s Eye.

***

Jane didn’t know what the Demon’s Eye really was. She stared into its huge pupil that presented things to her like on a television screen.

Scenes and events from life — the past and the future.

The latter, however, were always blurred. She saw people, a city with tall buildings, and deep tunnels.

New York!

A car drove through the streets. Pitch black. The being at the steering wheel was barely recognisable. A dark hood covered his face. Only his eyes shone brightly. In panic, people ran away from the car that was racing towards them. On its roof was a huge coffin.

Only one man stood in the middle of the street. A tall, blond man holding a gun and firing at the approaching monster.

That man was John Sinclair.

But John couldn’t stop the car. In a flash, the harbinger of death was approaching, and...

The image disappeared and made space for a new one.

An old village, nestled in a haunting landscape. Mist, moors, an eerie atmosphere... and a mill!

The sails of the mill looked like skeletons. A red-haired woman with long vampire fangs stepped out, dragging a familiar woman with her.

Sheila Conolly!

Then the redhead pointed to one of the sails. A man had been tied to it.

John Sinclair!

Again the image blurred. Now all Jane could see was the eye. The pupil, now just a dull grey, no longer showed her anything. Then the eye separated back into two.

A moment later, Jane Collins saw the thing’s face for the first time.

The mouth started to move.

It seemed to smile at her, to entice her...

Defensively, Jane covered her face with her hands. She didn’t want to see that grimace anymore: the grimace of a creature in whose brain the past and the future were stored; the grimace of a face that made time absurd.

But the horror was not over yet.

From behind the face, a gargantuan creature appeared. A skeleton with a black skull whose eye sockets shone brilliant white. Jane thought she saw a yellow-red shimmer within them.

Before her stood the Black Death.

The Black Death was the reincarnation of evil. He represented the powers of Hell and only knew pure hatred.

Only one man could stand up to him.

John Sinclair!

He and the Black Death were arch-enemies. The Black Death sought destruction and complete chaos — John fought to save humanity. Until now, the demon hunter had managed to keep this demon at bay, but every so often, the demon returned like a ghost to sow death and demise.

He stretched out his arm and waved a skeletal index finger at Jane. A gesture of triumph, of scorn... Jane felt him draw her to him. She wanted to go towards him, but suddenly she felt a biting pain inside. The monstrous, misty face frayed and dissipated. The Black Death disappeared, the canyon from which the mist had come was wiped away. Only darkness remained...

The pain was never-ending. Something was hammering in her body like a metronome.

Air! Jane needed air. Otherwise, she would suffocate.

A whistling breath was drawn.

Jane opened her eyes widely.

A voice.

John’s voice. ‘Oh God, she’s alive!’

***

I looked at Jane, watched her open her eyes, and was almost overcome with joy.

We’d done it. No, Kiriakis had done it. I couldn’t put into words how grateful I was. He had brought Jane Collins back to life and her wound had closed! A higher power had helped us — good didn’t want to let evil win.

‘John...?’ The word was just a whisper from Jane’s lips. ‘John, how...?’

I smiled. ‘Jane, stay quiet, you shouldn’t be talking.’

‘No, John.’ She reached out, her fingers wrapping around my arm. I was surprised how much strength was left in her hand after what she’d just been through. But this room seemed to defy all normal human logic and common sense. The space seemed to be magical. I couldn’t come to any other conclusion.

‘I saw you, John. A while ago, when I...’ She stopped. ‘When I was dead...’

I took a deep breath through my nose. Kiriakis and Suko stood next to me. They had also heard Jane’s words.

‘You were dead?’ I asked.

‘Yes, John, I was over there... in the Otherworld...’

I shook my head, but Kiriakis confirmed what I’d thought when I’d failed to find her heartbeat. ‘Jane Collins was clinically dead,’ he explained.

‘Naturally.’ I thought about the stories that we often heard from people who had been ‘over there’. They were always wondrous stories about flowering gardens and paradisiacal beauty. Those who claimed to have returned also often spoke of meeting their dead relatives. Their mother or father.

‘It was beautiful, John,’ Jane Collins said quietly. She let go of my arms and put her hands flat on the bed. ‘I walked... No, I floated down this long corridor. I could see Paradise. I even saw my mother. I wanted to go to her, but something suddenly stopped me — I couldn’t carry on. Then I saw a bridge over a canyon. It was a deep, horrible canyon with walls of mist. I was so scared of crossing the bridge. Then a hideous face came out of the mist. Its eyes squished together and became one hideous eye...’

Jane told us about her experience and described the face that she’d seen.

‘And I saw you, John, in New York. Then you were tied to the sail of a mill! They were visions of the future. I could see the future in that eye! I saw it all as clearly as I can see you now. It was awful! John, I’m scared...’

I stroked her hand. ‘You don’t need to be scared, Jane. I’m right here with you.’

‘That doesn’t mean it wasn’t scary. After that, the Black Death came out of that mist like a ghost. It was terrible...’

I clenched my teeth. There was that name again. The Black Death! My arch-nemesis, Satan’s right hand, who had lived for as long as the world had existed.

‘Can you see the connection?’ Kiriakis asked quietly, still standing next to me.

‘Almost.’ I turned back to the detective. ‘Carry on, Jane, what else did you see?’

‘Nothing else.’

‘Did the Black Death harm you?’

‘No, but he wanted to. He just didn’t have the chance. He tried to get hold of me, but then everything was over. My surroundings changed. I felt a sharp pain in my heart and woke up here.’

‘That was the moment the chest compressions worked,’ Kiriakis commented.

Jane Collins looked at the men in surprise. ‘So... So you were the ones who brought me back to life?’

‘Yes, we are,’ I answered.

Jane smiled. ‘At the start, everything was so beautiful,’ she said. ‘I would have never wanted to come back. I felt so happy, you know? You would have felt exactly the same, I’m sure.’ She sat up.

I wanted to stop her, but I was too late. Jane noticed that her breasts were uncovered and blushed.

I passed her blouse over to her. ‘You really needn’t be embarrassed,’ I said.

She slipped it on over her shoulders. ‘You never know with you, John.’ Then her face became serious again. ‘Weird, this wound... I can’t feel it anymore. It’s closed, just a slight pull, nothing more. How is that possible?’

I pointed to the Greek. ‘You have Kiriakis to thank for that, Jane, dear.’

The detective frowned. ‘Who are you? Earlier, up there... I felt like I’d seen you before.’

‘I am a friend,’ Kiriakis answered. ‘That should be sufficient for now.’

‘And how did you manage to heal me?’

Kiriakis clasped his hands together. ‘This world has many secrets that I think should remain as such. That is why I shall not tell you, Miss Collins. Maybe one day, you will learn about this small miracle. I can, however, assure you that the wound is completely healed. You will not feel any more pain, believe me.’

‘Yes, Mr Kiriakis, I believe you.’

‘There is no need for the mister. We’re friends, and that is how it should stay.’

‘You believe that?’ I asked.

Kiriakis shrugged. ‘Who knows what the Black Death has in store for us this time.’

‘What about the Demon’s Eye?’ I said.

‘I was about to mention that.’ Kiriakis sat down. ‘You will not destroy the eye with ease. It’s as old as the Black Death himself. This terrible demon can use it to see into both the past and the future.’

‘He can see everything?’ I asked, amazed.

‘No, not everything.’

‘I’m not following...’

‘Then I’ll explain it to you. When the continent of Atlantis sank, it was the end of a people, but not the end of evil itself. This evil had also existed during our heyday. It was ever-present. Dark priests and magicians managed to find a host of people ready to serve the evil. Through visions of Hell and magic spells, they managed to maintain the loyalty of their servants. But even the demons were at war with one another. The Black Death, who had tried to rise to power at the time, had a hard task. His nemesis was Myxin, the magician, who possessed the Demon’s Eye. But the Black Death managed to steal it from him. After that, he attempted to kill Myxin, but failed. Instead, he put the magician to sleep for ten thousand years. Myxin still sleeps to this day.

‘Using dark magic,’ Kiriakis continued, ‘the Black Death was able to put the Demon’s Eye in one of his servants. That was the man whose face you saw, Jane Collins. If the Black Death wants to see a certain event, all he needs to do is look through this eye. However, he only sees evil, terror, and chaos. Everything that he stands for. But this is logical, because the eye also belongs to a servant of darkness. That is the story of the Demon’s Eye.’

‘So how can we get hold of the eye?’ Suko wanted to know.

‘We find Myxin, of course.’

Suko and I looked at each other. ‘We can do that?’ I asked in a quiet voice.

‘Yes.’

‘Then point the way.’

Kiriakis suddenly looked thoughtful. He looked at us, scrutinising each of us in turn. ‘I haven’t known you for very long, but I’m convinced that you’re honourable. Nevertheless, you ask a lot of me, if you want to find the path to the Demon’s Eye. It would be impossible to destroy such a thing without help. We will need powerful support, and there is only one who can give us that: Myxin, himself!’

‘But you said he’s asleep,’ Jane said.

‘Then we must awaken him.’

‘Isn’t he a servant of darkness as well?’ Suko asked.

Kiriakis nodded. ‘Nevertheless, we must find a way to get him on our side.’

‘So, we need to fight one evil with another,’ I said.

‘You couldn’t be more right, John Sinclair,’ Kiriakis admitted.

‘The question is whether or not some dark magician will even want to help us.’

The Greek looked at me. ‘That is the greatest risk. On the other hand, he will be grateful to have been awakened. There is always a balance.’

I