Martin froze, unable to do anything but watch as the Worm seemingly came back to life. He was frozen, not with fear but with an incredible pressure that had descended upon the alley. He could hear the whimpering of the man with the missing teeth as he lay pressed to the ground. The man with the scarred lips had turned away from Martin, slowly raising the gun at the Worm.

  Blood flowed in rivulets from the wound in the Worm’s chest, and his body softly swayed from side to side as he tried to stand. His head lolled once to the side with a cruel cracking noise before righting itself again. As they watched, the Worm’s jaw unhinged with a soft pop. His lips parted, and from them came a sound Martin had never before heard uttered by a human being. It sounded more like the hissing of a snake than human speech.

  The sound of gunfire pierced the silence. Blood spurted again from the Worm’s chest, and he staggered once, but did not fall to the ground. The bullet was slowly pushed back out of his chest and fell to the ground with a hollow sound. The worm’s eyes opened, not the dim eyes Martin remembered from the bar, but narrowed, yellow eyes burning with hate. In a half-hiss, half-speech that seemed to emanate both from the Worm’s mouth and from somewhere far beyond, it spoke.

  “Foolsss.”

  From around the man with the missing teeth, a circle of black miasma appeared. The ground under him turned a deep black that seemed to lead into the endless abyss.

  “Boss…” he began to say, but he got no further than that as out of the Abyss came the head of a massive white snake, which swallowed the man whole. The snake held its head out, almost arm’s length away from Martin, and looked upon the alley with the same yellow eyes as the Worm. The thin man let out a scream and leapt up from the ground. He dashed toward the exit of the alley, but the snake was faster, striking with a speed far belying its size. The snake snapped up the thin man just as it had his partner, but rather than stopping before it crashed into the wall, it continued moving. Another ring of black miasma appeared just before it, and the head of the snake disappeared inside it, leaving its massive body stretched out in the alley, linking the two circles.

  Nobody dared move, save to watch the surroundings for another hint of a black circle.

  “Listen,” the man with the scarred lip started speaking again. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I never wished for any of this to happen. Me and the lads were just looking for a bit of bread, you know? Times are tough, and a man’s got to eat. To tell you the truth, I’d much rather work for my meals…”

  “Ssssilence.”

  The man tossed his revolver and reached into his pocket for another weapon. It was a useless gesture as another circle appeared in front of the Worm, and from it sprang the head of the white snake. The revolver bounced harmlessly off its skin. The snake’s tongue reached out, shaking ominously in front of the man with the scared lips. Even from where he was standing, Martin could feel the sudden increase in pressure. The man fell to his knees, his hand slipping out of his pocket, empty.

  The snake struck, again consuming a full-grown man in a single bite and continuing into a fresh circle that had appeared under him. Martin watched the snake continue onward. The body of the snake moved with the speed of a bullet, taking nearly a full minute before the tail of the snake emerged from the initial circle of miasma where the man with the missing teeth had lain. The circle quickly evaporated behind the tail as it went whipping past Martin, as did the remaining circles. As the final drop of miasma disappeared from in front of Martin, he found himself alone with the Worm and whatever it was that had possessed him.

  Struggling with the intensity brought on by the Cosmic being that had descended into the alley, Martin forced himself into a slight bow, arm crossing across his chest in a gesture of respect.

  “You have my thanks for disposing of those men, my lord. May I dare ask which deity I have the privilege of addressing?”

  “Polite. I like that.” The voice said, a faint hint of mirth palpable in the force crashing over Martin. “I am known by many names, most unutterable in your human tongue, but you may address me in the style of my seniors as the Cyclical God. Although I am not yet as established as some of my fellow Cosmics, I have always been, and shall always be, and someday, I shall be here.”

  “It’s an honor to meet your avatar, my lord,” Martin said, bowing deeper.

  “Yesssss, it is an honor. This body, although dim, has its uses. He was actually starting to see some results. A sssshame he had to be discovered.”

  “Will he be able to resume his work for you, my lord?”

  “That he will.” The force controlling the Worm lifted the man’s hand, bringing it softly down against his cheek and in front of his mouth, where it passed along his extended tongue. “This one is engaged in a repetition. You could almost call it a form of mesmerism. Day by day, living life in an endless loop. These loops call to me. Across the boundaries of time and space, they call to me, guiding me into this world.”

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  The Worm’s hand extended, finger pointed directly at Martin.

  “You. You can join him as one of my worms, circling here until I make my glorious entrance into this world, at which time you shall be no more a worm, but evolve into a king, free to watch those who once scoffed at your existence begin their own futile and inevitable circling of the drain. What sssay you?”

  “My most sincere apologies, my lord, but I am already in the service of another.”

  The Cyclical God paused only a moment before uttering, “I care not.”

  With an unholy speed, the Worm moved. Before Martin could even react, the Worm’s hand closed on his wrist with an inhuman strength. Martin could see the Worm’s jaw unhinge as a tongue now black as night extended toward his face. Just before making contact, however, the voice, once full of the absolute certainty of its power over mortals, began to scream.

  Recoiling in pain, the Worm clutched his hand, smoking as if it had just been removed from a fire, to his chest. He staggered backwards a few steps before sinking heavily to his knees.

  “Forgive me. Forgive me.” The Cyclical God cried. “I recognized not which master you served. I would never knowingly raise my hand against so great an existence. Please grant me mercy.”

  Martin slowly rose from his hunched-over position, gingerly rubbing his bruised wrist. The pressure on him had lifted enough for him to fully stand, be that from the influence or the Faceless God or from the Cyclical God cowering in fear, he wasn’t sure. He waited a moment to see if his own master would descend on the alley, but the Faceless God remained silent. Although he wanted nothing more than to be out of the alley with all possible speed, he knew he had a role to play.

  “You know who I serve,” Martin said finally, “and you know that he is not one to bear offense lightly.”

  “I am aware. I beg thee, forgive my transgression, and spare me the life of this worm, and I shall grant you a boon.”

  Martin paused dramatically for a moment.

  “Very well. My lord accepts your offer.”

  “Then you have my thanksss.” At this, the Worm swayed softly, and the voice of the Cyclical God began to fade. “My servant shall handle what’s left. May we meet again.”

  Martin bowed respectfully once more. The Worm’s shoulders slumped, and he nearly collapsed to the ground before Martin could grab hold of him. The Worm’s eyes slowly opened, back to the familiar dullness Martin remembered.

  “You,” he said slowly. “You’re that man from the bar, aren’t you?”

  “Martin is my name, and I too am in the service of a master far beyond human understanding.”

  “Well, Martin. It seems I find myself in your debt. Help me up, would you?”

  Once he was up, the Worm made a hasty attempt to brush off the mud and blood before settling into a deep bow.

  “My name is Carl Vermes, at your service.”

  “Are you alright, Carl?” Martin gestured at the now-healed wound on Carl’s chest.

  “Ah, this, yeah. I’ll be alright. Not the first time I’ve risked death in my master’s service.” He shuddered slightly at this. “It’s never pleasant. I imagine you’ve been through something similar.”

  Carl went over to pick up the gold and recover what was left of his hat. Martin rarely met servants of other cosmics and was eager to get more information.

  “Once. How long have you been in the service of your lord now, Carl?”

  “Seven years next month.”

  “And how far along were you on your current loop?”

  “Today was day one hundred and eight.”

  Martin’s eyes rose in surprise. “I’m sorry to hear that. Will you be able to restart?”

  “The loop is broken, and I’ll have to start again from the beginning, I’m afraid. I’ll use tonight to wash up and maybe break the routine for a nice dinner, and start again in the morning. Alderbridge Cathedral didn’t rise in a day, as they say. Who knows how many of us and how many years it will take to bring our lord over?”

  “I suppose that can be measured only by our masters.”

  “Right you are. Men and worms are left with nothing but faith. Now, I need to grant you a boon. Would you be kind enough to watch the alley while I summon it?”

  Martin gave his consent and backed off to the entrance of the alley. He peeked out once, surprised the noise hadn’t attracted any attention from passersby. It was the Inquisitor’s attention he was particularly fearful of. The sound of their chanting outside the warehouse that night still sounded unbidden sometimes in his ears. Without Jacques here to guide the escape, he had little confidence of slipping through their pursuit. Both of the safe houses he had been guided to previously were on the far side of town and would serve little use tonight. He wondered if Will might be able to show him a few safe spots before tabling the thought to turn his attention back to the Worm.

  Carl had approached the wall at the end of the alley and once again knelt. His body remained motionless for a moment. As Martin strained his ears, he could hear a faint hissing noise. The hissing morphed into the same terrible language Martin had heard from the Cyclical God previously. As the hissing gradually grew in volume and intensity, the Worm’s body began to undulate on the ground, scraping against the floor with complete disregard for the damage to his clothes and skin.

  Martin felt his attention pulled by a sense of Cosmic energy emanating from the mouth-like section of the wall. He looked up and noticed a small ring of black miasma, similar to the ones that had precluded the snake devouring the would-be robbers. Foolish though it may be, Martin flexed his hand once. His identity as a Faceless Man already exposed, he went ahead and drew his dagger, holding it behind his body and out of sight.

  After rising to a crescendo, suddenly the noises and motions ceased, and the small circle of miasma exploded silently. Pieces of the splattered on the brickwork and quickly evaporated, leaving just the faintest shimmer of an object in the mouth of the wall.

  Carl rose slowly to his feet. Muttering to himself. “Twice in one day. I know a man has to eat, but still.” He walked over to the wall and took something from inside the mouth. Turning around, he gestured for Martin to come closer. When Martin drew near, Carl held up his fist, slowly turning his fingers up and spreading them wide, revealing a stone ring set with a black stone.