Chapter 9: A Slight Hiccough in Plans

Holly folded her new clothes- so carefully picked out by Alexandra- and shoved them into her suitcase. She wasn't entirely sure what she needed or how much she needed, so in went shirts, jeans, skirts, leggings, hijabs, underwear, and several other small items that she thought would be useful: like her brand-new lamp, for example. Also stuffed into her suitcase were a couple of books, one on demonology (which she thought would be extremely useful, considering) and her copy of the SBR, handy for emergency djinn situations or a makeshift doorstop. Bound up with a rubber band were the cards on famous djinn, the top card of which read "Iblis Teer, Ifrit. Extremely dangerous, avoid at all costs. Adept at trickery and diminuendo bindings. Known alliances: Ifrit, Jonathan Teer, Rudyard Teer..." At the bottom of the card, scrawled in Nimrod's carefullest (and for once legible) handwriting was "Out of circulation. No longer a threat." It made her feel a little bad that, after all Nimrod, John, and Philippa had gone through to stop this Ifrit's wicked machinations, she was maybe going to undo it all. She had to keep reminding herself that she was literally choosing the lesser of two evils. Next to the cards she tucked the little wooden box with the letter and the tin of tobacco. Regretfully, she took a few more puffs of her pipe, and put it out so that it could go in the box as well.

After going to the bathroom to collect her toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner and other toiletries she might need, Holly was finished packing, and her suitcase was groaning uncertainly with everything she had stuffed in there. She actually nearly had to sit on the thing to get its buckles snapped shut.

"Oh good, you're ready." Casca's voice came dolefully.

"Gah!" Holly jumped at his sudden return. "You know, you could at least knock. I could have been packing my underwear!"

Casca shrugged. "It's a good thing you did pack, you know. We're going to be traveling for awhile." He looked so gloomy that Holly forgot her irritation.

"What is it? Can't you just zoom us around on your angel wings? That's what Gabriel does."

Casca's frown deepened. "Gabriel's an archangel, and I'm a complete novice. I asked Michael for permission to take you on leylines, but he shot me down big time."

"So... what does that mean? We're still going to ask Iblis for help, aren't we?" Holly fretted, worried that their apparent only hope was slipping out of her reach.

Casca smiled. "Of course. Michael did agree that Iblis Teer was likely a long shot, but one worth taking in this case. It just means that instead of getting there in a timely fashion, we'll have to take a plane."

"Aw, schist." Holly muttered. "Really? I hate planes, though."

Casca cocked his head to one side. "Did you just substitute the name of a metamorphic rock in place of a swear word?"

"Schist is metamorphic? Cool, I didn't know that." Holly brightened a little bit with the information.

"Is this a new development or are you just messing around? The words, I mean."

"I don't know what the frangipani you're talking about." Holly smiled, then let out a sigh. "I guess if we have to take a plane, it's not the end of the world. I just gotta find my passport again. You have tickets, right?"

"They're waiting for us at the terminal. I left them with a friend for the time being."

"Great. Ah, here it is! Let's get going. You think we can get a taxi?"

"I've already arranged for transportation to Heathrow," Casca smiled mysteriously. "Let's go."

Holly had intended to sneak out of the house without causing any disturbance whatsoever: after all, she'd left a note (making it as vague as possible so Nimrod wouldn't try and stop them without knowing why,) and with Mark in the hospital, Holly and Casca found it easy to sneak downstairs without interruption. Nimrod was still holed up in his library, and Alexandra hadn't returned yet, so Holly actually had her hand on the doorknob of the front door when the one person she hadn't accounted for spoke up quite suddenly.

"And where are you going in such a hurry, Miss Holly?" Groanin asked suspiciously, a bottle of wood polisher in one hand and a rag in the other: he'd been polishing the banisters. Holly winced. She'd become so used to Groanin's presence that she hadn't even registered him as she'd passed him on the stairs. That was the danger of having a butler who was good at his job: after awhile, he started to become invisible, part of the scenery.

"Um... Nowhere?" Holly said hopefully, trying to hide her bright red suitcase behind her back.

Groanin frowned at her. "Sneaking off somewhere on your birthday, Miss Holly, really? What would your parents think? I ought to go and fetch Nimrod at once, you know."

Holly bit her lip. This certainly was a pinch. She glanced around at Casca to find him smiling impassively.

"And who's this chap, hm? What would your brother say? I don't believe we even know this lad, and you're-" Groanin broke off as he approached them and squinted at Casca with disbelief etched across his wide, pink face. "Young Castiel?" He asked incredulously. "Is that really you?

Casca smiled. "It's nice to see you, Mr. Groanin. Holly and I are going on a trip. It's rather urgent, so we'd appreciate it if you let us go."

Groanin bristled. "Certainly not. I say certainly not. There'll be no sneaking out of the house as long as I'm here, no indeed. Nimrod would fire me for sure! And if not Nimrod, then the Missus, certainly. Where did you intend to go, anyway?"

"China." Holly answered simply. Then with a grimace, she sighed. "You can't wipe his memory or something?" She asked Casca, who shook his head.

"That would be unethical." He explained mildly.

"I figured as much." Holly sighed, then looked back at Groanin with a steely look in her eyes. "You're coming with us, Mr. Groanin."

Groanin bristled with indignation. "After I expressly said you were not to leave?" He asked incredulously. Holly smiled serenely.

"Well, Mr. Groanin, the fact of the matter is that I'm a djinn and Casca here's an angel, so we're both quite capable of leaving here with or without your permission. I just figured, since you don't want to lose your job, and seeing as how we're leaving for China one way or another, you might like the chance to come with us and keep an eye on us."

Groanin was at a loss for words. He was torn somewhere between utter outrage that he was being effectively ignored, curiosity as to what business Holly had in China, and a rather overwhelming feeling that he should be reporting to Nimrod right now.

All he managed to say, and weakly at that, was "I hate China. They eat all sorts of terrible things there, you know."

Holly shrugged. "Think of it as a business trip. I'm not going to make you eat in Chinese restaurants if you don't want to, you know. I'm not sadistic."

Groanin blinked at the two teenagers for a few more minutes, thinking how different Holly was from her father, when Casca frowned impatiently.

"Your suitcase, coat and hat." He announced, and quite suddenly, he was carrying the items and offering them to Groanin.

"What, you want to leave now?" He blustered. "But I've yet to pack- and you, young man, how did you do that without your focus word?"

"I told you, Cas is an angel now. Well, this Cas is, anyway."

Casca smiled goofily at her. "Aw, thank you, Hol, that's so sweet of you to say."

Holly pulled a face. "Since when do you say things like that?" She asked with disgust. Casca laughed.

"It's fun to see your reactions." He explained cheerfully, and turned back to Groanin. "But in all seriousness, I am an angel now. I go by Casca, and the djinn version of me goes by Cassius. Just so you know." He placed Groanin's bowler hat on top of the butler's bald head. "We shouldn't keep our ride waiting, you know, it's rather rude."

"'Ride?' What do you mean, 'ride?'" Groanin asked, unrolling his sleeves and buttoning the cuffs scrupulously before accepting his jacket, a quiet admission of defeat.

Casca smiled. "Ariel Angelou's Taxi service."

"We're going to be taxied around by the bleeding Little Mermaid?" Groanin asked incredulously. Seeing Holly's curious (and somewhat amused) look, Groanin felt obliged to explain, with some embarrassment, "I have nieces, you know."

Casca's smile widened. "You probably shouldn't mention that movie to Ariel. He's a little sore on the subject."

"He?" Holly queried.

Casca nodded. "Come on and I'll introduce you. Ariel's a nice guy, he won't bite." He handed Groanin his suitcase, all neatly packed and as polished as a butler's suitcase should be, and opened the front door to let in a gust of chilly, damp early April air.

Waiting at the curb, leaning against his black taxicab, stood a man as tall and lanky as a string bean, with thick brown eyebrows, thick brown hair to match, and sun-browned skin. He was smoking a cigarette and wearing sunglasses, which he lifted when the door opened.

"Casca, buddy! Ready to go yet? I got places to be, ya know." He waved his cigarette, trailing smoke through the air.

Casca waved back, and led the way down the driveway to the cab to shake Ariel's hand. "Ariel, nice to see you again. Guys, this is Ariel. He goes by Ariel Angelou when he's pretending to be a mundane, so don't blow his cover if you see him working. Ariel, this is Holly Godwin and Mr. Groanin."

Ariel smiled at Holly and took her hand respectfully. "Ah, who doesn't know the djinn Prophet? Everyone's talking about you Upstairs these days."

Holly frowned. She didn't particularly enjoy being gossiped about, even among angels. "That reminds me, where did you all go awhile ago?"

Ariel shrugged. "There was an incident. It's not important, just Lucifer stirring up trouble again. There are people taking care of it. And you," he turned to Groanin, who flinched, all too aware that he was out of his depth when it came to dealing with angels. Djinn were bad enough, honestly. "Butler, right? Nice. And to deal with all this djinn stuff, I must say I'm rather impressed. Though you're probably uncomfortable around angels, huh?"

Groanin frowned and shook Ariel's hand with all the strength in his super-strong right arm. "Actually, I wrestled an angel once." He pointed out, in an attempt to make himself seem less pathetically mundane. "Sam, I think his name was. I won, too, I'll have you know."

Ariel wrestled his hand away from Groanin's vise-like death grip, wincing. "Yeah, well, Sam's a character." He laughed, massaging his sore hand. "Always liked a good fight." He glanced over at Casca with a grimace and mouthed the word ow. Casca shrugged apologetically, and Ariel sighed. "I'll load your bags in the back."

"Oh, thank you." Holly smiled and handed her overstuffed suitcase to the stringy angel, who took it carefully.

He shook his head. "Not at all, Prophet. Just doing a favor for Casca here." Gingerly, he took Groanin's suitcase too and walked round to the back of the taxi, where he busied himself trying to keep ahold of both suitcases while attempting to open the trunk.

Groanin frowned at the angel's futile attempts not to drop the luggage, and leaned over to speak to Holly and Casca in a low voice. "Are you quite sure about this? We can always just go back to the house-"

Holly frowned at Groanin. "Mr. Groanin, haven't you accompanied my father on all sorts of wild adventures? Compared to those, this is running an errand on a Sunday morning." She said sharply. Groanin's frown deepened.

"Why aren't you telling Nimrod, eh lass? Why China, hm?"

"This is our last chance for getting Azazel out of our hair without resorting to wanton violence, Mr. Groanin." Casca explained sternly. "My orders come from the highest authority- besides God Himself, of course."

"Yeah," Holly agreed. "Mickey the angel, right?"

Casca sighed. "Michael the Archangel." He corrected.

Groanin was struck speechless for a few moments. "He... he's that chap in all them paintings, isn't he?" He asked, hoping that he might be wrong. To the butler's considerable dismay, however, Casca nodded.

"God's second in command," he confirmed.

Author's Notes: I have been criminally neglecting Groanin and it must stop immediately because there's so much I can do with his character but I've been avoiding him because he's hard for me to write. I think at least part of that is due to the fact that Kerr said that Groanin was the character who reminded him most of himself and consequently I've long felt unable to write him well. For now, though, I feel like experimenting, so as always, leave a review for me in the box below and thank you so much for reading!

~Lucinda