You and your lady friend and her sniveling little friends from that damnable museum. If not them, your precious Bureau. You vex us, sir. With the Daktyloi as our slaves, we will have all the power we have ever dreamed. Apocalypse will be ours. The Forge, the Hammer, and the Anvil will rise. The weapons they forge will make the Obsidian Danse the masters of the world."
He took another drag on his cigarette, the tip flaring along with his eyes. "And you might have stopped us. My brothers and sisters in the Danse were filled with such consternation when we learned of your arrival, your participation in the excavation--the foolish diggers trying to reach the Daktyloi before us. They feared you because you are like a bull. You would keep charging until we killed you, or you destroyed us, just as you have before. Even in the face of the fury of the Daktyloi, you would not stop."
The man flicked his cigarette over the balcony. His pupils changed color, taking on a shade of violet, like storm clouds at dusk.
"I told them this was not true. I told them you could not stop us, that you would not try, as long as we had your Dr. Bransfield."
Hellboy ground his teeth together so hard that his jaw ached. At length, he opened his mouth, unclenching his fists.
"I'll ask you one more time. Where is she?"
Genuine amusement blossomed on the man's face. "I have delivered a message, nothing more. You will not trouble us any further."
"Man," Hellboy said, shaking his head, "you're making a huge mistake."
"And you watch too many of your American films."
Hellboy stood taller, moved a few inches nearer. "Says the guy who talks like a Bond villain. Thing is, Hocus Pocus, I never heard of you idiots until today. If I wrecked some of your operations, it's sheer coincidence. I mean, I was doing my job, sure, but nobody in the BPRD ever said a word to me about any connection between any of that. I doubt they even knew you existed. Course, you just screwed the pooch on that one."
At last, the moron's arrogance crumbled.
"That's not possible. It couldn't all be coincidence."
"I told you, pally. It's my job. Now, I know you and maybe your other dance partners, or whatever you call them, are into magic. Someone--I'm betting on you--screwed me up bad, dropped me in the bathroom back there. But I've fought sorcerers before. Legends. And I broke them into little pieces. You can slow me down, but you can't keep me from doing the same to you.
"Bring Anastasia here. Now. The same way you poofed her gone. And I'll pretend we never had this conversation. I'd make a whole bunch of threats about what I'll do to you otherwise, but there's no point. I guess you've seen my work."
Dark and elegant, the man regained his composure. Though he'd tossed his cigarette over the balcony, another had appeared in his hand without Hellboy noticing. He took another drag. Hellboy thought about mocking him for the parlor trick, asking if he could pull a coin out of his ear--or some other orifice--but he didn't feel like talking anymore. Again, he slid nearer.
"Perhaps we did make a mistake. But now, the error is yours. Do you want her to die?"
Big as he was, Hellboy was fast. The bad guys always seemed to underestimate him on that score.
"Son of a--" he growled as he lunged, reaching out with both his ordinary hand and the massive, crushing grip of his right.
The sorcerer didn't have time to wave his hands or utter a single word before Hellboy was on him. His left hand grabbed the guy's right wrist and twisted. Bones snapped, and the cigarette dropped from his fingers. His huge right hand closed around the guy's head.
Hellboy opened his mouth to issue the threat, to tell the man with his polished English and his perfect hair that he was going to crush his head like a grape if he didn't bring Anastasia back in five seconds.
Before he could speak, the man's flesh changed. His linen suit felt even softer, and it moved, tickling Hellboy's palm. His hair came alive,
He took another drag on his cigarette, the tip flaring along with his eyes. "And you might have stopped us. My brothers and sisters in the Danse were filled with such consternation when we learned of your arrival, your participation in the excavation--the foolish diggers trying to reach the Daktyloi before us. They feared you because you are like a bull. You would keep charging until we killed you, or you destroyed us, just as you have before. Even in the face of the fury of the Daktyloi, you would not stop."
The man flicked his cigarette over the balcony. His pupils changed color, taking on a shade of violet, like storm clouds at dusk.
"I told them this was not true. I told them you could not stop us, that you would not try, as long as we had your Dr. Bransfield."
Hellboy ground his teeth together so hard that his jaw ached. At length, he opened his mouth, unclenching his fists.
"I'll ask you one more time. Where is she?"
Genuine amusement blossomed on the man's face. "I have delivered a message, nothing more. You will not trouble us any further."
"Man," Hellboy said, shaking his head, "you're making a huge mistake."
"And you watch too many of your American films."
Hellboy stood taller, moved a few inches nearer. "Says the guy who talks like a Bond villain. Thing is, Hocus Pocus, I never heard of you idiots until today. If I wrecked some of your operations, it's sheer coincidence. I mean, I was doing my job, sure, but nobody in the BPRD ever said a word to me about any connection between any of that. I doubt they even knew you existed. Course, you just screwed the pooch on that one."
At last, the moron's arrogance crumbled.
"That's not possible. It couldn't all be coincidence."
"I told you, pally. It's my job. Now, I know you and maybe your other dance partners, or whatever you call them, are into magic. Someone--I'm betting on you--screwed me up bad, dropped me in the bathroom back there. But I've fought sorcerers before. Legends. And I broke them into little pieces. You can slow me down, but you can't keep me from doing the same to you.
"Bring Anastasia here. Now. The same way you poofed her gone. And I'll pretend we never had this conversation. I'd make a whole bunch of threats about what I'll do to you otherwise, but there's no point. I guess you've seen my work."
Dark and elegant, the man regained his composure. Though he'd tossed his cigarette over the balcony, another had appeared in his hand without Hellboy noticing. He took another drag. Hellboy thought about mocking him for the parlor trick, asking if he could pull a coin out of his ear--or some other orifice--but he didn't feel like talking anymore. Again, he slid nearer.
"Perhaps we did make a mistake. But now, the error is yours. Do you want her to die?"
Big as he was, Hellboy was fast. The bad guys always seemed to underestimate him on that score.
"Son of a--" he growled as he lunged, reaching out with both his ordinary hand and the massive, crushing grip of his right.
The sorcerer didn't have time to wave his hands or utter a single word before Hellboy was on him. His left hand grabbed the guy's right wrist and twisted. Bones snapped, and the cigarette dropped from his fingers. His huge right hand closed around the guy's head.
Hellboy opened his mouth to issue the threat, to tell the man with his polished English and his perfect hair that he was going to crush his head like a grape if he didn't bring Anastasia back in five seconds.
Before he could speak, the man's flesh changed. His linen suit felt even softer, and it moved, tickling Hellboy's palm. His hair came alive,
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