Ribbons of light spiralled through the trees, dribbling across the lawn like honey. Clouds were as gunpowder, sprinkled here and there amidst the mellow blues and pinks of a sky now awoken. Sunlight and rain were a near magical sight to behold. Moments like these, Alec remembered. Few men appreciated every sunrise as he did. He felt, always, as a prisoner released, for a few hours at least.

Alec brought his mug to his lips as he eyed the myriad books beside him, their every spine coated in a fine veneer of powder grey. There was order to the man’s library, akin to all facets of his life. The uppermost shelves were reachable only by ladder, and so here he had placed the books that he wished to keep, but not for the purpose of reading again: rare titles, rarely touched. Some shelves were dedicated to the classics. Valuable editions had been collected over the years as a hobby of sorts. Alec enjoyed more so the chase than the capture. Others dealt with the realms of science, history, and astronomy. And there was the largest section of them all – the one that drew his eyes now as it did every morning, calling to him, taunting him. Here he kept the books that few reputable libraries would ever list in their catalogues and each one had been procured by Alec at great expense.

Such dark knowledge was not to be studied without due caution. It could corrupt just as easily as it might enlighten. Volumes encompassed beliefs both ancient and dissolute. They detailed experiments and theories that civilisations had burned for centuries, and yet had survived nonetheless, as man’s penchant for evil wills it so. These books Alec would return to often. Year after lonely year had been dedicated to examining and re-examining their pages, searching for answers, finding only more questions.

Numbers had long proved a lasting play on Alec’s mind. The more he researched, the more his obsession grew. The creeper had always respected, be it by duress or obeisance, the three sightings. This number alone was too complex to unravel in a single lifetime. The devil tempted Jesus three times; a messiah who in turn held the threefold office of prophet, priest, and king. Judaism called for three daily prayers. Shabbat ended when three stars were visible in the sky. Religion and moral decency be damned, soldiers in the trenches shunned the flame if they were the third to spark their cigarette from the same match. Everywhere the number three commanded some mystifying power.

But of all the numbers – that never-ending puzzle expanding beyond space and time – Alec’s fascination was drawn to the number nine. Pythagoras identified it as the beginning and the end. If Alec’s life was one such cycle then he sought that end like a drowning man yearned for air.