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Wormwood blanked Balberith's screen. 'Any more?' The eleven remaining heads of Wormwood shook in untidy unison. 'Leviathan. What have you to report?'

'Then keep a watchful eye upon them, my precious.' Mother Demdike broke wind and tittered as the fire turned green. 'You'll need a firm hand once they're free.'

'Gentlemen, gentlemen.' Wormwood raised calming hands. 'I shall address you singly. Are you comfortable in your temporary accommodation?' A babble of voices rose from the terminals. That of Leviathan rose above the rest. 'I shall act as spokesman for my brothers. We are well served for the present.'

'Those boys are making merry,' said the rankest hag that ever troubled daylight.

'Good. Carry on. All of you, penetrate each and every corner of the network. You know what is required of you. I want every computer system under my direct control. Once you have achieved this then I shall release you. Give you new bodies to inhabit. Powerful new bodies.' The ten on-screen heads of Wormwood made with the Satanic smiles and then were gone.

'That's because you are an idle fuckwit,' coughed Carnivean. 'May pisspots rain upon your head.'

'What's all the rush, brother? Loosen up.' Astaroth began to whistle. A chamber pot materialized and emptied its contents over his whistling head.

'Then keep a watchful eye upon them, my precious.' Mother Demdike broke wind and tittered as the fire turned green. 'You'll need a firm hand once they're free.'

'Enough' Wormwood raised a remote control as a pistol. 'You will speak only when you are spoken to, or I will blank you out.'

'Too slow. There is no peace for me until he is destroyed.'

'Too slow. There is no peace for me until he is destroyed.'

Mother Demdike, who had escaped previous mention, tore a garish relic of the Reagan years from its frame and flung it into the fire. Nancy with the laughing eyes melted into the flames.

'Good. But make haste. I want him found and I want him brought before me. Do you understand?' That was ranting, glaring and foot-stamping. Jonathan Crawford could learn a lot from this man.

'Enough' Wormwood raised a remote control as a pistol. 'You will speak only when you are spoken to, or I will blank you out.'

Wormwood's eyes narrowed. 'Who is he?'

'Speak for yourself,' hissed Balberith. 'What do you know?'

Wormwood's eyes narrowed. 'Who is he?'

'Those boys are making merry,' said the rankest hag that ever troubled daylight.

'Too slow. There is no peace for me until he is destroyed.'

'Charities,' Olivier cackled. Wormwood blanked his screen.

'Nice one,' chuckled Gressil. 'A nice loose movement, you know what I mean?'

'What's all the rush, brother? Loosen up.' Astaroth began to whistle. A chamber pot materialized and emptied its contents over his whistling head.

'Or maybe I'll let Carnivean play a tune upon your old bones for a day or two.'

'Good. But make haste. I want him found and I want him brought before me. Do you understand?' That was ranting, glaring and foot-stamping. Jonathan Crawford could learn a lot from this man.

Wormwood nodded gravely. 'Keep at it. Sonneillon. What of my would-be assassin?'

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