The Chronicles of Jonathon Postlethwaite: The Seed of Corruption by David S Denny Page B

real and pure emotion, untainted by asexual lust, had confirmed her sexual humanity.
                                Together they sat high on the roof ridge and watched as the Tallmen's mimicking of the dawn cast its wan light over the city. It was strangely beautiful. They felt strong, they had fought together and won, reinforced by a powerful, untainted love.
                                The malignant soul of the city had been defeated, it had retreated. Now it watched and waited. These two could not be tolerated, their seed could spread. It had failed once, but there were other channels to use, other means to defile them and destroy them.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
                                In the dark alleyway where Silus Flax had encountered Jonathon Postlethwaite for the first time, seven top-hatted men came across the prostrate form of their leader.
                                The High Hat search party had ventured into the Lower city following information on Flax's whereabouts from Bolster, now struggling to rectify a failed engine in hall nine, and the city gate guard and the two Tans who had challenged him on his exit from the city.
                                The High Hats had news for Flax which necessitated the normally taboo disturbance of when he was at play. They had a good idea of where and why he was here, but his prolonged absence from the Halls of Machines disturbed them a little, as was  his  shocking state when they found him.
                                After a few moments of attention, Flax began to regain consciousness.  His insensible  eyes  opened   to  regard the black coated, High Hatted men, who stooped anxiously over him, with a confusion brought on by the concussion he had received. He sat stupefied for a while, mumbling incoherently, until eventually he regained his senses. Now he could recall the events immediately prior to his enforced sleep.
                                The disfigured body of the street woman had been removed by his minions so as not to attract the attention of the rats, at least what the their vanguard number had left of it and, to avoid the questions from any Tans who might come this way during the morning shift round up. Her remains had now joined the many other hapless victims of the  nightly  ritual  of  murder  in  Dubh,  who  floated anonymously in the stagnant mortuary of the black river. Flax felt his blood encrusted head gingerly. “Where’s the boy?" he demanded.
                                The  surrounding  High  Hats  shook  their  heads and shrugged their shoulders. Flax remembered the moments before he was struck senseless.  The  wild and unsatisfying woman, the smell  of  warm  blood, the boy's sweet aroma of innocence and purity, the odours of his own growing excitement brought about by his contemplation of his forthcoming pleasures, then.... Flax growled - then the scent of two others above him.
                                He leapt to his feet, punching the nearest High Hat to vent his anger. Deprived! Flax took in a deep breath as the High Hats around him cowered away, expecting another outburst of violence from their master.
    Instead he laughed softly. Another time, another place he thought. He would never give up a prize such as the boy. He was something special. He would find him again and those who had deprived him.  He  knew their scents, he knew where they had gone. He peered upwards toward the rooftops high above.
    A High Hat, with one eye and a scarred cheekbone,
    cleared his throat and spoke. “Your Eminence, we have news." Flax turned to the man.
    “News?  What  now!"  howled  their  leader.  The  one eyed  man  bowed his head,