"It is an amazing piece, isn't it?" asked Ariana Helsington, museum curator. For her own personal thoughts, she wasn't sure if she was referring to the statue before her, and the striking man beside her. He was very good looking-tall, with long brown hair that was tied into a pony-tail. She also noticed the expensive looking diamonds in his ears - one on the left and three on the right lobe. He was dressed in black leather pants and a long black leather jacket. He smelled good as well, like vanilla and cinnamon incense. Above all else though, Ariana noted, it was something else that had drawn her to attempt a conversation with the man. He had a certain aura - an air around him that exuded a power, which she was very attracted to.

The man smiled, and shrugged, never taking his eyes from the statue encased in glass before him.

"Quite fascinating," replied the man, after several moments of silence. "What is it? Where did it come from?"

Ariana smiled, happy to gain his attention. "It is a representation of the spirit Amduscias, one of the seventy-two spirits evoked by King Solomon, as detailed in the Goetia. The body of the great duke and his horse are the finest black obsidian. The eyes are beautifully cut rubies. It is one of the most important pieces of a fine collection donated for this show by Lady Elianne Turac . . . "

The mention of Turac brought a snickered and some eye rolling from the man.

"It figures . . . " mumbled the man, almost incoherently.

"You know Lady Turac?" asked Ariana curiously. This conversation was becoming more interesting by the moment. Lady Elianne Turac was famous for two things - having one of the most extensive collections of magic items known, and being amazingly eccentric. Nobody saw Turac outside her home in the rural French countryside, and she was not known to entertain guests often. Turac's friends were only the most powerful and influential.

Ariana watched, as the smiling man turned his attention from the statue to her. He had amazing blue eyes. She saw something underneath them though, a sadness, deep and profound.

"Lady Turac and I have met," said the man, "on a number of occasions. The collection she has allotted you for this show is . . . impressive . . . but it is but a fraction of what she has. She is a very . . . avid . . . collector, especially in the fields of demons and vampires."

The man turned back to the statue; "I am surprised she let you take this piece though . . . "

"When I spoke to her," replied Ariana, "she said she wanted this piece, especially, to be part of the collection. She mentioned it was very special and would garner a great deal of attention."

The man laughed at that last remark. It wasn't a joyless, mirthful laugh, but rather a dry, sarcastic one.

"Yes," said the man, finally suppressing his ‘humor', "it is a very special piece indeed."

Suddenly, the man turned, and prepared to walk away.

"Well," he said, "it was a pleasure meeting you. You have a wonderful museum and this is an exceptional show. Have a nice day."

Ariana found herself disappointed he was leaving. "It was a pleasure meeting you Mr . . . ?"

"Hex," said the man, walking away, "Jonah Hex."

Jonah Hex stood solemnly outside the doors of the museum. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and began to imagine the very spot he stood upon earlier speaking with Ariana Helsington. While concentrating on that visual, he began to chant an incantation under his breath. Slowly he pulled a small pouch of red sand from his belt and threw it into the early morning sky. As the words of the incantation finished, Hex felt himself shift as if he were the sand. His body twisted and unformed, floating through the cracks around the front door. The body of sand blew quickly, by a window nobody else could see or feel, eventually landing in the very spot that Hex had stood in all those hours earlier.

Upon reaching the spot, the sand became flesh, and was human form once more.

"I was wondering when you were finally going to show . . . "

The voice startled the unexpecting Hex, almost forcing him to jump. He quickly turned himself to confront the person speaking, preparing in his head a number of offensive spells to attack the person should it be necessary. Hopefully, Hex thought, it would just be a night janitor.

Jonah Hex just wasn't that lucky. No janitor stood before him. It was much worse than that. Jonah recognized the man, and realized he had just stepped into nothing but trouble.

"Hello, Silas," said Hex, the annoyance in his voice unmistakable, "long time no see . . . "

"Indeed," replied Silas Androvich, "it has been quite a while. Last time was when? Ah yes, that would be Pakistan, wasn't it? You and that lover of yours beat me to finding the Crown of Wisdom. Worse still, when I got there, I had to deal with the irate owner and his small army. That was a most . . . unpleasant . . . experience."

"Sorry about that," said Hex, pulling a cigar from his pouch, "had to get to it before either you or Shadow Cabinet got their paws on it. Hope there are no lingering hard feelings about that. It was a long time ago and it looks like you got out of that spot all right . . . "

"No," replied Silas, "I am long over that. I wouldn't light that in here, the smoke alarms will go off, very sensitive. My real question is, why are you here, Hex? Visiting hours are long over and people don't visit here at this time of night to browse anyway, especially when they already have seen it . . . "

"Well," said Hex, smiling, "two things. First, I think Ms. Helsington should learn to keep better company. Second, I really doubt she would miss this fake that much . . . "

"Fake?" asked Silas, confused.

"Yep," replied Hex. "The ‘centerpiece' of the collection here is a sham. The ‘Amduscias' here is a piece of crap."

"And how do you know this, Hex?" asked Silas.

"Well," said Hex, happy to explain, "first of all, being a longtime practitioner of magic, and reader of the Goetia, I can tell you that this statue is of the spirit Seere, not Amduscias. Second, I have seen the Amduscias in Turac's possession, and it is much prettier than this. Thirdly, this little hunk of junk has a piece of the Darkhold medallion housed inside it . . .

"And before you ask how I know that, it calls out to this . . . "

Hex pulled a piece of silver chain from around his neck. Something was on the chain. Silas recognized it, it was a piece of the Darkhold medallion.

Silas knew of the Darkhold. Anybody who practiced serious magic knew the Darkhold. It was a powerful book of spells, maybe the most powerful spellbook in existence. On it's cover was the medallion. When assembled, the medallion allowed the bearer, with the right spells, to enter other dimensions. Silas knew that Hex and his companion, June Moon, had tried to wield the Darkhold. It had been too much for them, inexperienced at the time. It had cost June Moon her life . . .

Recognition dawned on Silas, "You are assembling the pieces. You are a fool, Hex. You intend to journey to Hell and save your damsel in distress? That is madness!"

The humor left Hex, his lip curled in anger. "You are one to talk of madness to me, Silas. Do you not think I know exactly what you are doing in the Transverse? How long you have been obsessed with finding your own book, and a certain Dark City that it leads to . . . "

Silas prepared a retort, but decided to deflect away from his own quest. "Do you honestly think, Hex, that the others will let you reassemble the pieces of something so reviled as the Darkhold. Dr. Fate spread the pieces across the Earth for a reason . . . "

Hex laughed dryly. "The other magic bearers are too caught up in their own personal projects to even notice what I am planning. By the time they discover, it will be too late. I will not fail.

"Oh, and Silas, I know that you will keep my little secret. You know how I know? Because I know all your dirty little secrets, Silas. Nothing has changed since the last time we met. I know you don't want the others to know about your quest either. I know what Dr. Strange and Fate think about your Dark City. If they knew you were close, they would stop you. Hell, I might even help them.

"But that isn't going to happen, is it. You have your secret little project, and I have mine. I think we have reached a mutual understanding here, haven't we, Silas?"

"Yes," muttered Silas quietly. He didn't like it, but he knew Hex was correct. He didn't want Strange and other Sentinels of Magic to know how close he finally was to the Dark City. He didn't want them snooping around Transverse. Hex was right. They would keep each other's secrets . . . for now.

Hex could see he had won the opportunity he was looking for. He turned to the base upon which the statue stood. He was sure it was rigged with some sort of traps, to deter theft. With a wave he spread a powdery mist, and watched as it showed a cris-cross pattern of motion-detecting lasers. Hex made a note of their patterns. Next he pulled a small ring from inside one of his pouches of goodies and placed it upon his left pinky finger. Muttering a magical incantation, he felt the ring glow warm on his finger. Then it got very hot. It burned. Hex endured it because that was how he knew the magic was working.

Then the burning stopped, and with it, time itself came to a halt. Hex had to work quickly, because the time-stopping magic of the ring lasted for only sixty seconds. Quickly he pulled the statue from its place, through the lasers. Hex knew, that while light moved fast, it was held stationary when all time stopped.*

*(In truth, the magic of the ring can't stop time. Nothing can stop time. Hex is just moving at a speed so fast that he is moving quicker than light. The magic ring bends the laws of physics. - "Mr. Science Guy" Toby)

Silas was watching Hex when he felt the twinge of magic at work. One second Hex was looking towards the guarded statue, the next it was in his hands. No alarms sounded. Nothing else had changed.

Hex mumbled another incantation, and the statue turned into ashes, falling from his hands. In his palm, from the statue's center, lay a broken piece of a medallion. Silas knew it was a piece of the Darkhold. Silas watched as Hex held the piece up to the one that he wore around his neck. As the two touched, they merged back together, appearing as if they had never been broken apart in the first place. Silas suddenly felt uneasy. He knew it was the evil of the medallion.

Silas was suddenly curious. "Why do you think Lady Turac sent it here, rather than keep it from you, hidden and protected at her home?"

"The Lady has her own games she and the other Immortals are playing. She knows me. She knows I will stop at nothing to complete this mission. She doesn't want me to disrupt her little game. I know some of her dark secrets as well, ones that could get her in serious troubles with the rest of the Immortals, and have Shadow Cabinet and Star Chamber on her ass as well."

Silas smiled. "You are a very resourceful - and dangerous - man, Hex. I think it would be better we stay friends instead of enemies . . . "

Hex laughed, dry and harsh. "Don't delude yourself, Silas. We are not friends. Betray me, and I will make you pay . . . "

With his mission completed, Hex smiled, bowed sarcastically, and whispered a brief incantation. In a puff of smoke, he was gone.

"Insolent whelp," Silas mumbled to himself, walking away, "I will keep your secret for now, as I know you will keep mine. Soon though, I will fine the Dark City, and have the power I crave. Then Hex, you and I will meet again . . . for the last time."

"Damn," mumbled Dharma, holding his head in pain.

"What has happened?" asked his assistant White Lotus, standing beside him.

"A meeting between two troublemakers. Both are getting too close to their objectives . . . "

"Hex and Silas?" asked Lotus, well aware of the troublesome situations brewing.

"Yes," replied Dharma, in obvious pain. "Silas seems finally to be getting within reach of the Dark City. After all these years. We might soon have to intervene . . . "

"And Hex?" asked Lotus.

"He has a second piece. It seems Lady Turac has handed him over a piece without resistance. Make a note of that, I shall have to have a talk with her. If he can pick up all the pieces that easy, then we have a serious problem. It may indeed spell the end, for all of us."