Free Church of Sin (The Ether Book 1) by James Costall

part, national security or something equally abstract. What you’re asking us to do is unethical, immoral and unprofessional and I want no part in it. I don’t give a shit about society or the bigger picture. It’s bollocks. Nothing comes above my own integrity.”
    “In fact I have absolutely no intention of trying to persuade you otherwise, doctor Franchot. Quite evidently you lack the intellectual capacity to understand the significance of the task that is being handed to you and in that case you are quite the wrong person to undertake it.”
    Several things crossed Alix’s mind, all of them equally inappropriate. Her lips formed a word but, for the second time, no sound came out.
    “Maybe we’ve misunderstood something, Mrs Harker,” Ash said. “You’re asking quite a lot of people who’ve spent their entire careers being nothing but completely honest to ourselves and our professions-”
    “What would you have me do, Inspector Fielding? Perhaps if I were to ask nicely, would that make any difference? Of course not. And what is being asked of you is not earth-shatteringly illegitimate. You will be named as the officer in charge of a case that will earn you a great credit for doing nothing. That is all.”
    Ash turned to Baron for help but his superior was staring into space, hand over his mouth, a look that was utterly unreadable.
    “Well?” said Harker impatiently.
    Chapter 16
    Ernst Stranger dug his nails hard in to the back of his neck and gasped at the mixture of pleasure and pain that he derived from scratching the rash that ran from the base of his skull across almost the entire breadth of his shoulder. He had been twelve when he first took a blade and cut deep into his forearm; the ecstasy he felt as the blood trickled down and dripped on his parent’s bathroom floor had instantly extinguished the fear he had felt at the hands of the school bullies. And from that moment Ernst Stranger had been hooked.
    Things were better now for Ernst. He had found his first steady job, a career job if he was lucky, working in the mortuary, deep below the lowest basements where the public weren’t allowed to go at the University Hospital. Here, he spent his days bagging and tagging the dead. He felt strangely at home here, in this sanitised house of corpses, where his only living companions were those unseen entities that slowly feasted on the bodies of the unfortunate. There were no school bullies to kick him, or call him names, pull his ginger hair or steal his things.
    Nor could they rip his trousers down and shove pencils up his arse.
    Ernst had been working at the hospital mortuary for a few months before he finally came to terms with the enjoyment he got from seeing the bodies brought in, stripped naked as the day they were born; every scar, every imperfection, every mark exposed for his eyes, and hands, to explore. He had been uncomfortable with it at first. There was something impure, unnatural, frightening even , about having a fetish for dead flesh. He knew that there were doctors working upstairs who suspected his job satisfaction was rather more than that which was considered healthy, but they were usually too busy or to wary of him to say anything. Down here he was safe. Down here he was free. King of the Dead.
    The clank of the main door opening forced Ernst to quickly remove his hands from the rash and turn round. He was annoyed about the interruption and even more annoyed at the redness he could feel flooding his face. He was cursed with the look of the guilty irrespective of what he was doing.
    “New one for ya’, Strange,” called an unenthusiastic voice.
    “It’s Stranger,” Ernst muttered under his breath. His plan – as was always his plan when he came into contact with people who had a pulse – was to refrain from engaging in any small talk and get the visitor to leave as quickly as possible.
    Victor wheeled in a trolley on which was laid a short, green bag which bulged and swelled with