"We ought to call in for extraction as soon as the others get back," Steven urged as the abandoned inn continued to grow dark around them. "We need to get ourselves out of this ghost town and back to civilisation while there's still one to get back too. We can't do anything to help the dead anyway."
"Can we really be that sure everyone is dead?" Lucien questioned in response. "Let's at least hear what the others have to say upon their return before making any harsh decisions. I can't abandon this country to Livingstone's wrath."
"Feeling sentimental for your homeland, Captain?" Steven asked with a quiet chuckle.
Am I feeling sentimental? No, Scotland did nothing for me. I was glad to see the back of her, a mutual feeling no doubt. "Just doing my duty." Or maybe penance.
"Well, if we're to be staying put a little while longer you could at least let me get a fire going?" Steven pleaded with just a hint of a smile. "I'm so good at it, and I'd feel guilty if I had to sit here and watch you freeze to death."
Damn Thermokinetic Demons, always showing off, Lucien thought, watching Steven try to hide his concern behind a smirky veneer. Wish I could control my body's temperature like that. Smug bastard didn't even bother dressing for the weather.
The pair of them were both wearing the standard-issue uniform of a DIABLO officer, thick black Kevlar body armour worn over a dark red combat jumpsuit, the DIABLO's name embroidered across their backs along with its emblem, a smiling cartoon devil with DIABLO circling above and below it, patched into their shoulders. They also carried combat knives sheathed in their vests just below the shoulder and wore black combat boots and black fingerless gloves, useful for handling their weaponry and the ammunition that was kept in the utility belts around their waists, their standard-issue Demonator's holstered to their hips. In addition to all of this, to stave off the cold Lucien also wore his hooded coat, its soft thick furs as white as the snow piling up on the streets outside, hanging down to his knees, Lucien's hidden cut-throat razors sheathed into its sleeves, the silver and steel burning into his skin, the way only cold metal could, giving him a sense of calm.
"No fires," Lucien insisted, pushing Steven back into his chair. "I can't have the chimneys smoke giving away our position."
"In that case, we may not be able to sit around cooking marshmallows, but we could at least tell a few campfire stories to pass the time. You were originally from this neck of the woods. Know any good local tales?"
"As it happens, I spent some of my younger days right here in Girvan," Lucien reminisced. "I've had an old story the townsfolk used to tell on my mind. The story of Sawney Bean."
"Oh, Sawney Bean. Sounds ominous."
"A cannibalistic story of an incestuous family kidnapping travellers to kill and eat. An event so extreme that even the king of Scotland had to get involved," Lucien started as the two of them adjusted themselves in their chairs. "You see, Alexander Sawney Bean was born in East Lothian sometime in the sixteenth century. His father was a ditch digger and hedge trimmer, who was desperate to get his son involved in the family business."
"But Sawney didn't want to follow in daddy's footsteps," Steven interrupted with a scoff. "Relatable."
"Well, Sawney didn't really like good honest work, so at a young age, he decided to run away from home. He immediately became a highwayman, travelling up and down the country murdering and stealing from anyone unfortunate enough to come across his path."
"Well, that escalated quickly."
"Yes well, as the story goes, one day after days of starving he killed a traveller, dragged the body off into the woods and ate it. Apparently, Sawney got a taste for it. He would sometimes spend time at the inns of local villages, usually in the winter when it was too cold for him to survive out in the wild. One day while he was wintering in one of these villages, he met Agnes Douglas."
"Agnes Douglas. Now that's more of a Scottish sounding name," Steven chuckled. "Much more than Lucien Faraday anyway. You don't even sound Scottish. Are you sure your form here?"
"I lost the accent years ago," Lucien answered, ignoring Stevens piss-taking, quickly continuing his tale. "Anyway, Sawney and Agnes, a woman who was every bit as messed up as he was, ended up falling in love."
"Aw… Bless."
"Agnes herself was constantly accused of being a witch and had earned herself the name of Black Agnes. One day the villagers chased her out of town, so she left to live in the wilds with Sawney."
"So, a happy ending for the two love birds then?"
"This story is far from over. Sawney continued his usual of killing travellers and cannibalising their bodies, while Agnes allegedly used many of the leftover parts for her black magic rituals."
"As you do."
"Eventually, they came this way and right here in Bennane Head between Girvan and Ballantrae, they came across a cave and decided to make it their home. The cave was remote, secluded, well-hidden and couldn't even be accessed during high tides."
"Sounds like the perfect hiding place."
"Exactly. While living in this cave, the couple had fourteen children, eight sons and six daughters. Most of these children went on to have their own children with each other, leaving Sawney and Agnes thirty-two grandchildren, eighteen grandsons and fourteen granddaughters, all of them products of incest."
"Wouldn't be the first time I've heard of family's wanting to keep things…" Steven started before pausing to think. "Well, in the family," he finished with a grin.
"Indeed. So, with the Sawney clan now amassing a grand total of forty-eight strong, all of them partaking in the family trade of hunting down travellers to rob and eat, a lot of the local towns started to take notice. Everyone was very aware of the fact that so many travellers were going missing, and many of the coastal towns were reporting body parts washing up on their shores. Since these body parts were found mutilated and near the water, the townsfolk came to the logical conclusion that one of Scotland's many mythical creatures was the culprit."
"Ah, so it was old Nessie all along."
"Well, it's an old Celtic belief that bodies of water are portals to the otherworld which is why so many of Scotland's mythical creatures are said to live in or near bodies of water. So why would anyone jump to the conclusion that it was actually a family of incestuous cannibals behind it all?"
"First these Celtics and now you with your Norse Gods. You Scots are a superstitious lot."
"You don't believe in the god's Steven? As a Demon party member, I find that hard to believe."
"Of course, my parents raised me by the Norse ways, I'll still bathe on a Sif'sday given the opportunity, but over the years I've started to reject many of my father's teachings."
"Well, I can't fault you for that."
"In another timeline perhaps, I could have risen to be the head of my party, made a real difference, but as things stand now, I'd be better off leaving the Demons Parliament behind me and my old family name along with it."
"Well, your identity is safe with me, as is your brothers. Anyway, even with all that suspicion, the Sawney clan continued to operate for years to come, killing thousands. None of them ever went anywhere near any of the local towns, never having any reason to. They got all their food and clothing from the people they killed, and they only ever went out to hunt under cover of night, so nobody ever knew they existed."
"But this story has to end somehow?"
"Well, there was a fair happening in Galloway which attracted many more travellers from all over Scotland."
"So, lots more victims on the road," Steven surmised. "Good news for Sawney. Bad news for them."
"Yes, I'm sure Sawney thought the same thing. However, one night would set in motion a series of events that would ultimately lead to the clan's demise. You see, they made the fatal mistake of underestimating their target."
"Shame."
"On this night a man and his wife were riding home from the fair when all of a sudden the Sawney clan came charging out of the woods screaming like banshees in an attempted ambush. What the clan didn't know however was that the man was an extremely experienced soldier and cavalryman who had seen a lot of combat."
"So, this guy fought back?"
"Yes, with a pistol and horse reins in one hand and a sword in the other he fought, shooting, running and cutting his attackers down. Unfortunately, in the confusion of battle, he hadn't noticed that his wife had been pulled from the back of the horse, until he turned to see the women of the Sawney clan ripping her limb from limb with their bare hands, dismembering her on the spot. In his grief, the man flew into a complete rage."
"And he started to fight even harder?"
"Well, luckily another twenty or so others were travelling back from the fair that night and by this time had heard the fighting and had begun to charge ahead to help. When the Sawney clan saw this they retreated, the surviving members fleeing for their lives, vanishing back into the woods."
"A badass soldier like that let them escape. How disappointing."
"The men tended to the soldier's wounds and helped him gather up what they could of his wife's body for burial. After this, they were all still so shocked by what they had seen that they all immediately road for Glasgow so that they could report to the Chief Magistrate. Due to the large number of witnesses, the incident was reported directly to King James of Scotland himself, who was so horrified by the details that he and a unit of four-hundred soldiers as well as several bloodhounds departed for Galloway to hunt the Sawney clan down."
"No joke, I wish we had four-hundred soldiers. We could really use them about now."
"Indeed. We could have used them to flush Livingstone out from wherever he is hiding, just as King James did with the Sawney clan. The bloodhounds led them to the cave and with so many of the Sawney clan still suffering from their injures, were in no possession to defend themselves. The entire Sawney clan were arrested, every last one of them surrendering without a fight."
"Bit of an anti-climax."
"Well, this story isn't over quite yet. Upon searching the cave, they found clothing, jewellery, swords and all manner of other things taken from their victims. They also found pickling barrels and drying racks filled to the brim with human body parts. There were even full children's corpses found hanging on the drying racks."
"Now that's more like it."
"So, the entire clan were roped and chained, dragged back to civilisation and paraded through all the local towns and villages before being brought to the toll booth to be processed. It was decided that because the clan were so savage and of such low horrific contempt that they were technically animals, so there was no need for a trial."
"Only humans get a fair trial. Truly they were the Demons of their time."
"Maybe. It was, however without a shadow of a doubt that they were guilty of their crimes. They were immediately executed, the men first having their hands, feet and genitals cut off and thrown into a fire. They were then tied to the scaffold to slowly bleed to death while the women and children of the clan were forced to watch. After this, they too were tied to the scaffold and burned alive. It is said that during this utterly bloody public spectacle Sawney Bean shouted his last words 'This isn't over! It will never be over! Not even when the people run from Demons, fleetingly across the streets! Or when the blood mixes to bring winter without end!' so ends the tale of Sawney Bean."
"Prophetic words. So, this cave, it actually exists," Steven asked. "The same cave you asked the others to scout out? You think Livingstone could be using it as his local base of operations?"
"I had a hunch." Or perhaps an uneasy feeling.
"Speaking of the others, do you think they're doing okay? They've been gone some time."
Crack! Speak of Hel.
The sound came from the frozen streets outside, like the cracking of a great whip. Moments later, the door swung open, two figures entering, bringing a chilling cloud of mist in with them.
"God's, you'll let the cold in," Steven scoffed, feigning a shiver as the other DIABLO officers entered, Martin Brown resting an arm on the Demonator at his hip, Claire Smith, doing much the same with the hilt of her Katana. "Shut the door!"
"As if a Thermokinetic Demon such as yourself would know anything about it," Martin retorted, throwing the door shut. "You could never understand the sensation, my brother."
"Martin, Claire, what did you find out there?" Lucien interrupted impatiently. "tell me everything. Give me every detail."