The Book of Josiah - Chapter 20

    And there it was: a mountain in the heart of London, a snow-capped needle of glass and steel piercing the night sky. The Cathedral of the Steel God watched the world the way an earthly lord might survey his domain. Soaring amongst the clouds, it claimed a place in heaven. The icons of the Steel God were crusted in ice and snow, white on grey metal. The everlasting torch flicked from the top of the glass pyramid, a beacon for the lost.
    But the sight brought no cheer to Josiah as he trudged along the twenty-eighth skyway. He did not feel that stirring of heart that true believers felt on approaching the cathedral, nor did he feel the thrill he had once felt on nearing his place of work, looking forward to seeing Elijah. It was bitterly cold up here. He could have taken a lower skyway but this was the most direct route - Josiah begrudged any waste of time.
    Visions of Amber filled his mind. Tortured, caged, beaten. What were they doing to her? Anxiety gnawed at his gut and ate away at his stomach. If only the skycars had been running. This damn snow. The skyways were covered in a layer of black ice, slippery and treacherous. If he had had a car, Josiah might have taken the risk, but like everything else in his life, the Circle had taken it from him. He had known nothing else, and they had thrown him to the dogs. And now they had Amber. What more did they want from him? The machine - his last act of heresy, the last corner of himself. All he had left was his life, and what was that worth?
    When he had last rode the skyways he had been with Amber, driving till dawn. Now it was 3am Central Europe Time, and dawn was out of reach. Shivering violently, Josiah gritted his teeth, pulled his cloak around him, and marched on. Not far to go now, it was almost over.
    Josiah had not thought he would look upon this place again - he had thought that he had escaped the past but he was finding that he could not. He had spent fifteen years of his life in this place, his first memories were of steel fists and full moons. The Circle had been his family, Elijah his father and teacher.
    The Cathedral loomed ever larger as he approached, filling his vision, making him feel small and insignificant - as it was intended. For the last five years he had made this journey every day, and it seemed that each day his excitement had dwindled. Now there was simply a hole inside him.
    What would he find? And more importantly, who? If he got his hands on Lovecraft... She would be alright, they would both be alright.

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 11 - JOSIAH

    The sounds, smells, the vibrant colours, all of it was totally bewildering - like waves of nausea they assaulted his mind, far worse than usual. The crowds poured past him on all sides, threatening to drag him below the swelling tide of flesh. The whirling masses crushed against him, until he felt like a tall tree in a storm, struggling to keep upright. Even the roof seemed close and suffocating. And above it all was the stench of sweat, stale alcohol and putrid tobacco. He fought back the urge to throw up.
    Above him, from every side, strange creatures loomed menacingly, breaking out of the very walls of the buildings. A rhino was frozen, mid-charge, his horn lowered to do battle, semi-absorbed by the stone. Opposite was a white unicorn, horn of polished pearl, white wings spread to embrace the darkness. She seemed about to spring into the air and ride the thermals up to heaven. But this was the Deep, and heaven was a thick layer of cement.
    Clouds of incense wafted above the crowd, forming a thick layer of smog that blocked the fluorescent lights but did nothing to disguise the all-pervading stench. It billowed out from market stalls and the open doors of shops, curling and twisting, a madman’s dance; it caressed those who walked the streets and gently played across their clothes - the incense cloud welcomed him with open arms.
    Above the shops, and through the haze of smoke, were delicate arches, formed of finest marble, Greek style, that seemed to support the roof of the tunnel. But the paint was peeling, and revealed the pillars as a mere façade. The real roof supports were hard and straight, of red iron and blackened steel, criss-crossing at random junctures. The smoke embraced everything, sharp lines were swallowed in a vague fog.
    All around him half-seen faces lurched out of the mist, laughing madly or making obscene remarks, never quite looking in his direction. A man with a stud through his eyebrow and several across his head staggered along the road, barely keeping his feet - a low weeping sound trickling from his open mouth. A woman in black leather smoked a rolled cigarette slowly, staring into the trail of smoke as if divining the future in its strange formations.
    And above it all was a low murmur, a hum of conversation drifting through the incense cloud like wine through water, broken by hoarse shouts or stuttering laughter. And somewhere there was a shop playing music, just below the level of conscious hearing.
    Josiah swam through the crowd with Amber close behind. Camden always made him uneasy, and it was worse today than usual. With the temperature below freezing, it seemed that all the Deep had gathered to keep warm. He dodged a few drunkards and neatly side-stepped someone on a skateboard. He hoped that they would soon find their informer.
    They reached a clearing, a large cavern lit by burning braziers. A crowd had gathered and were toasting bread over the ethereal flames.
    “The end!” a voice shouted, loud and clear, breaking over the hum of conversation and silencing it in an instant.
    “The end is coming! It is already here!”

The Book of Josiah - Chapter 2 - JOSIAH

 One moment he was scurrying along the city bottom, the next he was lying face down on the concrete. A taste of copper told him that his lip had been cut in the fall. A sharp kick in his left side knocked the rest of the air out of him.
    Dazed, Josiah found himself being lifted off the ground. A huge, leathery hand held him firmly  by the scruff of his neck. He wasn’t going anywhere.
    “Give us your money, and we might not have to hurt you,” growled the man who held him. He was very tall -  well over two metres - with mismatched eyes, a chin covered in bristles and a stud through his lower lip. His nose was reddened by too much drink, his teeth burnt from too much smoke.
    “I don’t have any money,” Josiah protested, struggling vainly.
    “We think you is a liar but it’s more fun this way. We think we start with an ear or two. You ain’t using them, right?”
    He chuckled to himself - empty and cold - and leered at Josiah, revealing blackened gums. A knife flashed in his hand.
    And then he crumpled to the floor, part of his torso obliterated. Blood spray hit the walls - a sombre red against the psychedelic spray paint.
    Josiah put his gun away and hurried off down the tunnel.  He glanced from side to side. There was no one else around. That made his life a lot easier. He wanted to get off these streets as fast as possible and into the Lock. He quickened his step; kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
    Then it hit him hard, like a blow to the chest. He had killed a man. Shot him with the gun he held in his hands. He had never used it before today. There had been no time to think, no choice. Him or me. Josiah’s guts twisted themselves into painful knots, the smell of blood still clung to his nostrils like a stain, the dying man’s eyes, suddenly and paradoxically alive with shock, filled his mind. I had no choice, he thought furiously, fighting down the urge to panic. I have to focus on my objectives. Where am I going?