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Our host held out his trembling hand to me but as I reached for it Holmes interrupted. “The Doctor is with me,” Holmes said. I did not understand what he meant by the comment but Willingham nodded. Pulling back his hand, he crossed the room to an open liquor cabinet.

“Can I offer you gentlemen something to drink?” Willingham said as he reached for a bottle. An empty tumbler waited on a table. Pouring himself a measure of amber liquid, Willingham looked over the table and out a large window.

“Thank you but no,” Holmes said.

Drink in hand, Willingham turned to face us. “I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you. When Wolfe was murdered I thought myself quite alone. All the members of my detachment are either dead or out of the country.”

Holmes shifted in his seat. Looking regretfully to Willingham, he spoke. “We have heard reports suggesting Pursey and Mulchinock have been killed as well.”

The color drained from Willingham’s lined face. The tumbler in his hand fell to the floor, forgotten. Fearing the poor man might faint I hurried to his side and guided him into a nearby seat.

“We have not been able to confirm these reports,” Holmes hastened to add. “Obviously, we hope the information is false and both men are well.”

“Of course,” Willingham said. He raised his hand but discovered his drink gone. Holmes rose and poured the poor devil another. The taste of it seemed to restore the forsaken figure somewhat. “It appears I am the last of the detachment. It will come for me next.”

“Most likely,” Holmes agreed reluctantly.

“So the Brotherhood sent you to check on me.” Willingham made no effort to conceal his bitterness. “To see if I’d break before the end? I’ve no assurances to offer gentlemen. You may inform them that I know what duty requires of me. My hope is that I will go down fighting, in keeping with the Brotherhood’s glorious history, but I’ll not pretend to be grateful for the opportunity.”

Glancing at the sword leaning by the door, Holmes spoke speculatively. “Perhaps the Doctor and I might—”

“Would you?” An expression of gratitude softened Willingham’s face, making him seem younger. As quickly as it appeared, the expression was gone. Willingham’s voice was firm.

“No. God bless you for offering but that’s exactly what they want. I’ve no idea how they’ve breached the gate but obviously they’re seeking out as many of the Brotherhood as they can. They can’t beat us there, our fortifications are too strong, but here — at home — we’re all vulnerable. No, my detachment may be lost but I’ve no wish to bring down another. Much as I appreciate your offer I cannot accept. You gentlemen will have to leave.”

Holmes frowned. “Is there anything you wish us to report to the Brotherhood?”

Willingham emptied his drink, rolling the spirits over his tongue.

“A deathbed statement? Very well. Tell the Brotherhood my detachment served with an honor which exceeded our situation. I know how desperately the Elders seek the forbidden knowledge of the Melvaris. Tell the brotherhood such partnerships are not meant for men. My situation is hopeless. I cannot defeat the abomination which comes for me. Even so, I would rather die a man than know victory as such a monster. Tell the Brotherhood to remember us as we were: Men who stood together beneath the red sun. We earned our conquest, fighting as comrades. Do not let the Elders corrupt that victory. Remember the courage of men. Do not let them turn brave men into a blasphemy of foreign sorcery. Alone I cannot match a creature of the Melvaris, but if we stand together, as men, none can defeat us.” Willingham looked out the large window at the lights of London. “How strange to have travelled so far only to learn we had no need of the magic we sought.”

Visibly composing himself, Willingham tore his gaze away from the window. Looking at Holmes and I, the man set down his glass. “You should leave now.”

Holmes opened his mouth to protest but Willingham strode to the door and took the long sword into