"Thanks." Jacob says flatly, unimpressed. "You really know how to win friends and influence people mate, you really do."

Fighting him will do no good. Thumping him is appealing, but it really won't end well. He remembers the first time too well, and how long it took for the smell of burning to fade.

"Spit it out then, this big picture of yours." He says, although he can't think of what is bigger than this mess, pulling people in from all over just to feed on them, on their so-called sins. How can something like that, something so power as to pull people from different times and world, take a back seat?