"You don't cage a rabid dog, Loomis. You kill it. The Dark Ones are predators. Allowing them to live

would be too great a threat to the human race. We cannot act like police officers in this matter. We must

act as hunters. Because if we don't, we will be the hunted."

"You don't cage a rabid dog, Loomis. You kill it. The Dark Ones are predators. Allowing them to live

would be too great a threat to the human race. We cannot act like police officers in this matter. We must

act as hunters. Because if we don't, we will be the hunted."

"I'm painfully aware of that," said Modred. "Which is why I advise you to go home and get some sleep.

You look exhausted and you'll need all your strength, believe me."

"Sleep?" said Loomis with a snort. "You've gotta be kidding. How the hell am I supposed to sleep

knowing what's going down? Besides, that field agent should be checking in with me and Paul this

morning."

"I know," said Modred. "And I'm going to ask you to keep what you now know to yourself. At least

until I can ascertain whether or not this agent can be trusted with this knowledge."

"But you trusted me. Or at least, Paul did. And I'm just a tired old street cop, not a Bureau adept."

"Don't underrate yourself, Joe. You're a damn good cop and you know it. And as a cop, you'll know

that in highly sensitive investigations, certain details must be restricted to the investigating officers alone.

Otherwise, if they become general knowledge throughout the department, leaks are unavoidable. The

Bureau is no different. Aside from which, if it should become necessary, I could easily make you forget

what you've learned tonight."

Loomis pursed his lips and nodded. "I almost wish you would," he said. "But I'm going to feel real funny

holding back information from the Bureau."

"Perhaps it won't be necessary," Modred said, "but I'd rather you let me and Paul decide that."

"Suppose you decide you can't trust the agent with this. How the hell are we supposed to do what we

have to do with that B.O.T. agent looking over our shoulders—hell, running the whole investigation—and

not knowing what it's really all about?"

"So far as the Bureau knows, they're up against human adepts who have gone bad," said Modred.

"What I've told you about the so-called cult is what the Bureau believes. Not knowing anything about the

existence of the Dark Ones, it's the only thing they can believe. And we have certain trusted contacts in

the Bureau who help that belief along. From the killings that have taken place in London, Los Angeles,

Paris, Tokyo, and now here, they've concluded that there is an international organization of criminal

adepts, much like the powerful organized crime families of the pre-Collapse days. And in a sense, they're

not far wrong. The only difference is the Dark Ones aren't human and, fortunately for us, they are not

organized."

"Jesus, if they were . . ." said Loomis.

"If they were, we'd be in very serious trouble," Modred said. "However, their own ambition works

against them. If they had gone along with the other Old Ones who were led by the Council, the Mage

War never would have taken place, only their lust for power was too strong. That is the most

dangerously seductive element of necromancy. Once an adept has tasted that sort of power, it becomes

overwhelmingly addictive and the desire for control, and need to manipulate others, tends to override

everything else.