* * *

"This is unacceptable!" Roberto DaCosta said, throwing open the doors to his office. The Grey Knight followed him inside. "You and I are supposed to be the only people who know about our 'guest'." The Black King continued. "And yet you tell me now that someone has attacked her - and escaped without your knowledge? You are responsible for the Brownstone's security, Knight! I am not impressed!"

"If you are dissatisfied with my service, Milord King, You can release me from the contract."

The Grey Knight spoke with his usual, impassive tone, but the Black King shuddered involuntarily. "N-no!" he said. "No, I don't think I'll be doing that."

"As you wish." The Knight intoned.

DaCosta walked across the room to a bookshelf set against the far wall. Pulling out a specific volume he activated a concealed switch, and the entire shelf noiselessly retracted into the ceiling. Behind it, a small elevator was revealed. Stepping in, DaCosta and the Knight began to descend rapidly, while the bookshelf clicked back into place above them.

"As you know, this is the only point of access to the chamber." The Knight said, continuing his report. "It has not been activated since our last visit..."

"...which means that our unwelcome guests were teleporters." DaCosta finished.

"But not mutants." The Knight added. "My monitoring devices detect the unique energy signatures given off by mutant powers, and they recorded nothing. Given the nature of our 'guest', I would suggest that, like her, the intruders were powerful practitioners of the mystic arts."

The elevator arrived at its destination and the doors slid apart. The Black King stepped out onto a metal gantry, a walkway that ran around the circumference of a broad natural cavern, deep beneath the lowest sub-basement of the Hellfire Brownstone. Rising in the centre of the chamber was a broad metal pillar, connected to blinking computer screens and tangled masses of power cables and wires. Imprisoned in a metal suit attached to the pillar was a tall woman, her head hanging forward so that her long black hair fell across her face. This was Zhoe Kahn: Sorceress, and ruler of the other-dimensional realm of New Salem until her schemes for world conquest brought her into conflict with the Hellfire Club. For months she had been their prisoner - her powers siphoned off to be used by the Black King - but something had clearly gone wrong.

"What happened to her?" DaCosta asked, as the Grey Knight descended a flight of steps and approached the prisoner.

"Look." The Knight grabbed hold of the sorceress by the hair and raised her head. Her face was covered in blood. "Her tongue has been cut out." The Knight reported, impassively. "Clearly whoever visited didn't want her to tell us what she had seen."

Zhoe Kahn moaned feebly as DaCosta looked down at her with contempt. "But if their purpose was to silence her, why not just kill her?" he said.

"Unless that was not their purpose." The Knight forced the witch's mouth open. "Look." He said. "The wound was cauterised instantly - as if the blade that did it was white-hot. They didn't want her to bleed to death - left her here for us to find."

"We've been sent a message, Knight." The Black King said, descending the staircase. "We've been sent a warning. I think it's time we found out who our visitors were. Kahn!" he demanded. "Kahn can you hear me? Do you understand?"

The sorceress nodded.

"Kahn, you will use your mystical abilities to find your attackers. I wish to speak with them." The King commanded. Zhoe Kahn's eyes widened with terror.

"Are you sure this is wise, Milord King?" the Knight said. "After such a traumatic ordeal, pushing her to use her powers so soon could be fatal."

"If she is incapable of carrying out my orders then she has outlived her usefulness anyway." DaCosta said sharply. "Do not question my orders again, Knight."

Bowing, the Grey Knight crossed to one of the computer terminals and activated it. Instantly, power began to flow through the cables and wires into the metal pillar - through the maimed body of the witch whose shrieks of pain and fear drowned out the keening wail of the generators. DaCosta stepped back, as vast amounts of raw electrical energy bombarded Zhoe Kahn - and through her was converted into mystical power - power that radiated out of her in bursts of coloured light, a vortex of rainbow colours that swirled around him.

"Is it working?" DaCosta asked, shouting to make himself heard. Suddenly, without warning, the lights converged on the sorceress, who gave a last, horrific shuddering scream. Then her head fell forwards.

"Careful!" the Knight warned, as the Black King was edging closer to the pillar. "The readings I'm getting make absolutely no sense!" The room was in near darkness again, but the mystical energies were still there - the air seemed alive somehow. Heedless of the warning, the Black King approached the prone form of the sorceress.

"Puny mortals!" Zhoe Kahn's head snapped up, a malevolent smile on her bloodstained lips. Her eyes were narrow black slits in her face, and the voice - formed impossibly in that ruined mouth - was not her voice. "Did you think you could spy on the Horde?"

The creature that occupied Zhoe Kahn's body looked about itself with glittering black eyes. "Did you think to learn our plans? We are beyond your comprehension, mutant! We have eclipsed you! We have transcended!"

"What are you?" The King demanded.

"We are the Horde!" The voice from Zhoe Kahn snarled. "We prepare the way!"

"Who do you prepare the way for?"

"The sleeper beneath the mountain! He will claim back the earth and make it his own!"

"There are many who would oppose you." The King said, firmly.

"They will be crushed!" the voice snorted with derision. "Already, the few who could stop us are falling beneath our might. When the last has been taken, when the Chaos Engine is sated, then we shall create our own Hell on Earth!" the voice trailed off, and as it did so, Zhoe Kahn's eyes began to return to their normal colour. Back in control of her own body, the sorceress began to scream.

* * *

Half way around the world, another member of the Inner Circle had already encountered the Horde. "How dare you come here?" Synn scowled. "Don't you know who I am? You are speaking to the White Rook of the Hellfire Club!"

Perdition laughed. "What do you know of hell-fire?" she spread her segmented bat-like wings wide behind her, and out of her ominous shadow - a gateway to some black dimension - the distorted malformed bodies of lesser demons crawled out into the room, reaching for Synn with clawed hands.

Synn backed away, towards the bed where her current distraction - the Hollywood star Stephen Chapell - was sleeping. She realised that she had to stall for time while she got a grip on what was happening. The creatures appearing in her hotel room was bad enough, but Nero, the black lynx that had been her constant companion and protector, had turned tail and fled at the first sight of the demonic woman. His desertion had shocked Synn most of all. Nero was fanatically loyal - what could make him run like that? Who was this woman?

"Stephen! Wake up!" Synn shook the sleeping man, who stirred and opened his eyes. Synn grabbed his head with both hands, forcing him to look at her as she exerted her emotion-controlling powers to their fullest. "Stephen, do you love me?" Chapell nodded. "Then defend me!" Synn said, pointing towards the demon. "Kill her!"

Chapell lunged towards Perdition. He was unarmed, and had no powers - but Synn held no illusions that he would be able to defeat the demon. She knew he would probably be killed, but as long as he bought her a few seconds more... she rolled across the bed and pulled at the doors to the balcony - they were locked!

Perdition didn't move as Chapell leapt at her, then with a dismissive motion, swept one of her wings around, catching the actor in mid-air and smashing him into the wall. Unconscious, Chapell slid to the floor.

"Why prolong the inevitable?" Perdition grinned. "You belong to the Horde now, Synn. Accept your fate."

Cornered, Synn set her back against the doors and faced Perdition. The White Rook usually avoided fighting - preferring to stay behind the scenes and use her powers to manipulate - but she was no coward. "You think you've won, Demon?" she said, reaching out for Perdition with her mutant powers. "I think not. You love me demon. You worship me! You are my willing slave!"

Suddenly Synn screamed as she felt her own power turned back at her, but amplified - many times more potent - and completely irresistible. Her will was shattered - conscious thought subdued by passion. The fact that she knew that these passions were not her own made no difference. Synn was lost - enraptured - her scream now of ecstasy, she fell to the ground at Perdition's feet.

"Fool." Perdition spat. "Did you think you could control me so easily?"

Synn writhed on the floor as if the demon's displeasure was causing her physical pain. "Forgive!" she wailed, "Forgive me!"

Perdition laughed. "Do you desire me, Synn?"

Synn tried to respond but the sound of the other woman's voice was too beautiful. She nodded dumbly.

"Then follow me, Synn!" Perdition grinned. "Follow me to the Chaos Engine. Follow me to your death."

The demon turned to where her bat winged shadow still clung to the wall, and stepped through it, her demonic attendants following into the void. Intoxicated by the other woman's influence, Synn stumbled after them. Somewhere, in the back of her subconscious mind, did she realise that this was how her many victims had felt? Did she, on some level, feel shame at the misuse of her abilities? Did she feel guilt at the way she had manipulated people, played with them like toys and discarded them when they bored her? Perhaps she did, but in the end, it made no difference. Synn stepped through the shadow portal. The White Rook had been taken by the Horde.

As the portal closed, a small, lithe black form dashed across the room and followed them, unnoticed, into the darkness.

* * *

The White Queen's shuttle flew in low over New York, reducing speed. Ahead of it, the hanger doors in the upper storey of the Hellfire Brownstone were opening, the warm electric light from the interior a welcoming sight as Krystil Frost and Gillian DaCosta returned home. In the hanger bay, watching the approaching craft, three figures waited.

"How do we break the news?" Minotaur said. "How do we tell them what's happened to Damien?"

"Gill will know what to do." Shade said, rubbing his head, bandaged after his fight with Touch yesterday. "She always does." Paris Taylor had found himself taking the lead when he, Minotaur and Lamprey confronted their friend Damien over his drug addiction, and he hadn't liked it. Gillian was a dominant, often overbearing personality, but he now found himself pleased that she was back - pleased that he could pass the responsibility back to her.

The shuttle swept into the hanger, slowed and landed under the control of the automatic pilot. The Hellfire Club maintenance crew rushed forward to secure the vehicle, while the Hellions hung back, waiting for the door to open.

"I bet they've been arguing the whole time!" Lamprey smirked. "Gillian hates Miss Frost so much for marrying her brother. I can't believe that she agreed to go in the first place."

"She enjoys baiting Miss Frost." Shade said. "Probably only went so she could hassle her."

The door opened and Krystil Frost, the White Queen of the Hellfire Club emerged. As always, she looked immaculate in her white and silver dress - her blonde hair falling in perfect waves across her bare shoulders. She smiled as she saw her students.

"Good morning, Hellions. It's wonderful to see you again." Shade stepped forward to tell her about Damien, but she raised her hand to stop him. "The Knight called me while I was on my way here. I know all about what happened. You all acted very responsibly. I'm proud of you." She descended the ramp and handed her case to one of the ever-present servants. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll check up on him myself. Don't worry - we'll see to it that he gets the best possible care." She halted in the doorway and looked back. "Nothing can be allowed to ruin my wedding day, is that clear?" then she was gone. Her tone was light - joking, but had she been addressing them, or was she looking past them, towards the door of the shuttlecraft?

The Hellions followed her gaze, to see Gillian DaCosta - Teryn - emerge. She smiled as she saw them and ran down the access ramp.

"Good to see you, Gillian!"

"Great to have you back!"

"I'm amazed you both walked out of that shuttle!" Paris said, laughing.

"Why would you say that?" Teryn said, looking at him with a strange, concerned expression.

"I thought you and Frosty would have killed each other, being stuck in a shuttlecraft on your own!" Shade laughed, using Teryn's favourite expression for the White Queen.

Suddenly, Teryn twisted on her heel and slapped Paris across the face. The blow was not particularly hard, but it was so unexpected that Paris stumbled back a pace, tripped on a fuel cable and fell to the floor. Unable to believe what had just happened he gazed up at Gillian in astonishment.

"What the hell did you do that for?" he said.

"How dare you address Miss Frost with such disrespect!" Teryn scowled. "Not only is she our guardian - not only is she about to become my brother's wife - but she's also my dearest, closest friend and I won't let you speak to her in that way! Do you understand me?"

Paris - stunned - nodded.

"Good." Teryn's expression suddenly changed and she grinned broadly. "Come on, Lamprey! Miss Frost said we could pick out the flowers for the bouquet!" with that she grabbed hold of the other girl's wrist and ran out of the door, pulling Lamprey - too shocked to resist - behind her.

"What just happened?" Shade asked, still sitting on the floor, and wondering if he'd hit his head harder than he had thought. Minotaur began to sing the theme music to the Twilight Zone.

* * *

The Grey Knight closed the secret door in the bookcase behind him, shutting out the distant sound of Zhoe Kahn's shrieking. In the room behind him, Roberto DaCosta paced up and down, deep in thought.

"Assuming that the strain doesn't kill her, I see no reason why Kahn's magic can't protect the brownstone from another attack, now that we know what we're up against." The Knight said. "If you're worried about this 'Horde'..."

"Actually, Knight, I'm not." DaCosta said continuing to pace the room.

"I see the White Queen and Miss DaCosta have returned." The Knight observed, updated by the central computer. The Black King suddenly stopped pacing, and turned to face the Knight, a sly smile spreading across his features.

"This could be exactly the opportunity I have been looking for to tie up some... loose ends, which have been troubling me for some time now. This Horde may believe that the world is theirs for the taking, but the ultimate victory will belong to the Hellfire Club!"


TO BE CONTINUED...

Issue 10

Issue 8

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