It was much more run down up close than from afar. Rotten, untreated oak wood surrounded windows that looked brittle enough to crumble in a moment. They entered and the interior was marginally nicer; At least there were a few dirty banners draped around the place.

An old priest was sitting up the front, reading from his bible and murmuring to himself. When he noticed the two he hauled himself up to his feet.

“Hello, out-of-towners. What brings you to the house of the lord?” He asked, cheery but somewhat resigned.

“Greetings,” Tandy said, forgetting what century it was. The priest lost any hint of holiness and stared daggers at her.

“Greetings,” Danton cut in, “Father, we have noted strange goings on in this area, and we fear for everyone’s safety.”

“Ah yes,” The priest said, thoughtfully, “Our regular merchant spake of this. He said he found a puddle of entrails on the ground of the hills being gnawed at by a mighty beast.”

It seemed like he had embellished things a bit. Luckily in his selfishness he had left them out of the story. “We believe that a stranger comes to bring ill-tidings. I spotted him casting dark magic upon dead creatures.”

He raised his eyebrow. “We?”

“Me and the townsfolk. I have arrived but recently and shared this knowledge with others.”

“Hm,” The priest pondered. “And you do know what the lord says about casting aspersions?”

Danton stood in stupid silence. It would have been a good idea to read the bible before coming to medieval Europe. “I do, father. But I am faithful. I walk with the lord in this and in all matters. I simply must know the location of this agent of the devil.”

The priest adjusted his gown and coughed awkwardly. “I suppose there would be room for me to absolve you of your sins and give you what you require in your hour of need. However, there must be atonement.” He coughed again and pointed to a gold dish that stood proudly at the front.

Danton sighed and solemnly strode over to the dish, being the moral christian citizen that he was, and dumped a substantial amount of coins in. They had been provided more than enough money by The Bureau, even for greedy priests. He dropped each coin one by one and Tandy could see the satisfaction growing on the priest’s crinkled face.

“Very good, my son.”

He raised his hand above Danton when he returned and tokenly waved it around. “In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit. I cleanse this soul of his sins.” He nodded, Danton nodded. “Now, what is the description of this dark artist you speak of?”

“He has wild, brown hair like an animal’s. His nose is much like the beak of a crow and his eyes glow green like a cat.” Danton looked back at Tandy briefly, who was grimacing at the faux-poetry of it all.

The priest held a fist up to his chin and nodded. “I do happen to remember someone like that entering the village close behind Mrs Smith, Edward’s wife. If he is a guest of theirs you will find the house on the other side of the village, toward the sun. It will be a two storey home with a forge at its base. God help their souls”

Danton and Tandy looked at each other, realising what had happened. The victim wasn’t alone. And now the worst case scenario was playing out before them.

“Thank you for your time, father,” Danton squeaked out. They disappeared out the door and around the back of the church where nobody could see them freak out.

“Shit!” Tandy whispered, popping open the genealogy scanner and inputting the name ‘Edward Smith’ in the record for that red puddle.

EDWARD SMITH, BLACKSMITH, WARWICK VILLAGE, DISAPPEARED EST. 12^th^ CENTURY

NO LIVING DESCENDANTS

NEVER MARRIED

Tandy slapped it closed and rested her hand on her gun. “I’m not imagining things, there’s no record of his marriage. But now the fugitive has a fucking hostage.”

Danton sighed then returned in kind with more swearing. “For fuck’s sake. He’s already killed someone and now this!? This is a shitshow.”

“We can’t wait for extraction teams to come in. We don’t know who this Mrs Smith might be related to and she could be dead before the team even makes it here.”

“What about what she’s seen? Even if we save her, she clearly had a gun at her back when she was being brought in,” Danton said.

“Everyone here knows if you start spouting off about technology and magic you’ll be labelled a maniac. She’s not telling anyone, but we need to pay a visit to the smithy.”

They both agreed and moved in a pained fast walk, trying not to arouse suspicion. They wound through the tight alleys and out into a grand square, flanked on all sides by businesses and craftsmen. Dead ahead of them was a blacksmith’s workshop. It wasn’t hard to find a two-storey, solid stone building with smoke petering out the sides.

Tandy rapped on the door and out came a woman in a modest bonnet. Her eyes were red and filled with tears, which she was clumsily trying to wipe away.

“Hello, Mrs Smith. How are you, today?” Tandy asked.

“I-I’m sorry, my h-husband isn’t in. If y-you require his services please come back later.” She made to close the door but Tandy stuck her foot in, forgetting her shoes were made of cloth and squishing her foot in the process, wincing. Tandy stared in and noticed Mrs Smith mumbling something to herself. It almost looked like… “Are you reciting the Prayer for the Dead?” Tandy whispered, leaning in. “Are you in danger?”

Mrs Smith looked at her, wide eyed. Tandy hiked up her tunic and rested her hand on her gun. She looked back at Danton and nodded. He unholstered his gun and held it inside the tunic at his side. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Me and my…husband can—”

Before she could get another word out, a bolt blasted out from the window and landed at Danton’s feet. Tandy sprinted back through the rain of glass and the two returned fire at the top floor. The shadowy figure in the top window was firing away at them, leaving plumes of dirt and dust in their wake. The once languid morning crowd was now screaming and running in every direction. The two hopped behind the nearest building and caught their breath.

“I WON’T LET YOU TAKE ME BACK,” He screamed in modern English over the crowd. “Just leave me in peace!” Tandy was stunned, he had said this in broad daylight in front of these terrified peasants.

People were confused, he may as well have spoken in an alien language to them. The words “tongues” and “devil-speak” were floating around the crowd as they murmured to themselves. More screaming came from the smithy, this time from Mrs Smith, as she was hauled up to the top floor. “Leave me alone, or she dies!” He shouted, his voice wavering.