thirty and four

ventilate

'i assure you, sir, the offices are quite busy this season, as you may well assume. the presence may not be available for weeks, even months.' the paige's voice trembled as he spoke, the wavering sounds echoed by clumsy footsteps on ages old brittle tile. ' i have strict orders, sir, i hope you know. i - i can't let you pass without the proper paperwork.'

jason paid the boy no mind, his sights instead favoring the ornately carved golden doors at the end of the immense seeming hallway. the enormity of the gallery, as is every other in the labyrinthine passages of the complex, was an illusion laid out by some long forgotten architect, buried by centuries and holy conspiracy. in actuality, it was a mere hundred steps, maybe less. the distance, and the appearance thereof, were not important. in this world the numbers and meters of men were as uncertain as mortality, as irregular as the far-flung home of a spattered drop of blood. time had taken its rightful throne over the rebellious nature of space and under its rule all the integral constants had become warped and malleable. and then there was the deception, and inherent inaction, that the grigori had propogated, but that is another story.

the paige, nevertheless, musters the last of his loyalty and steps in front a mere ten paces away from the door. 'i am afraid, sir, that this as far as you shall go.' from his right side, jason draws something that could be a blade, a revolver or even a stun stick. to a killers eye it could be many different things, but in truth the end result is all that really matters.

there was a flash of light, a smell of lillies, then nothing. as the body sank to the floor the paige let out one last sigh, as if contented by a tall glass of water, and then was blissfully silent.

jason opened the doors.