Free The Fourth Figure by Brian; Pieter; Doyle Aspe

similar lines. Real disciples of Lucifer don’t wear penta­grams, don’t spit on crucifixes, and don’t indulge in blood-drenched rituals.”
    â€œYou’re almost making it sound attractive,” said Van In.
    â€œPlenty of people would agree with you. Look around. Everyone wants knowledge and possessions. Would you accuse someone of being a satanist just because they’re ambitious?”
    â€œSo we’re all satanists when push comes to shove?”
    â€œThat’s what Frank thinks. According to him the gods—the devil included—only survive by the grace of the people who believe in them. In a world of egoism and indifference, it makes sense that Lucifer’s scoring better than the God of love-thy-neighbor.”
    â€œI’ll try to remember that,” said Van In.
    The waiter took advantage of the pause in the conversation to clear the table. “Can I interest you gentlemen in dessert?”
    â€œI’ll stick with the Duvel,” said Van In.
    â€œAnd for you, sir?”
    Guido opened the menu and ran his eye down the list of desserts. The waiter seemed irritated by the delay: “May I recommend the passion fruit and chartreuse sorbet?”
    Guido ignored the suggestion and ordered vanilla ice cream with hot chocolate sauce, a traditional favorite. “Is it only me, or are waiters losing their manners these days?” he said when the smirking waiter had turned on his heels.
    â€œDon’t exaggerate, Guido. What if he’d suggested a cheese platter? You know you’re a sucker for cheese!”
    Van In smiled. As far as he was concerned, good and evil were an essential part of the human psyche. Every individual was free to choose the path he or she preferred to follow.
    Jonathan made his way down Ezel Street, his thoughts elsewhere. He was carrying a shopping bag with fruit, vegetables, and meat—he had offered to do the grocery shopping for the cop’s pregnant wife, but he had another motive for escaping her oversight. Venex lived nearby, and the need to score was getting more urgent by the minute.
    The cop’s wife was okay, but how would she treat him if he told her the truth? He hadn’t used for three months in a row. That’s what he had promised Trui, but now that she was gone, there was no more promise to keep. Life was meaningless without her. Only death could reunite them.
    He turned and headed toward Slede Street in the fervent hope that Master Venex would release him from his suffering.

4
    Christ the King was once a respectable residential corner of the city where Bruges’s nouveau riche had clearly enjoyed architectural carte blanche. Many of the buildings were nothing short of tasteless, and the streets were named after the big shots of the day. Its former inhabitants were exceptionally proud of their neighborhood and back then the upper-middle class preferred Cardinal Mercier Street to Green Street.
    But Christ the King had lost much of its luster over the years. As the city expanded, the elite of old moved out to the leafier suburbs, and the neighborhood’s former inhabitants made way for average two-income families who earned just enough to save their now dilapidated town houses from the wrecking balls.
    â€œ Sic transit gloria mundi ,” said Guido as he turned onto Keizer Karel Street.
    He parked the Golf at number 79. The Simons family home was a product of the fifties, a brick box for which some brainless architect had probably been granted an award. The people who lived here were clearly true-blue natives who hadn’t been able to afford a move to the new housing developments on the outskirts of the city.
    â€œI wonder if he’s home.”
    â€œWe’re about to find out,” said Van In, sounding detached. In reality, he was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Sleepless nights, Duvels, and a solid meal were a deadly combination. He grabbed his jacket from the backseat