Mid morning in Tadfield. The kitchen of the old farmhouse at Crowley's Croll Farm. Ammun, Uriel, and Crowley are seated at the antique kitchen table, sipping tiny cups of hot sweet Moroccan coffee.

. . . and that's how I wound up being uncle to a platoon of disposable demons.

Bunch of sassy scamps like DeeDee? Or Handsome and sinister like the Erics?

Mixed bag. Mostly Erics, then DeeDees. But also a generic Asian corporation. And a sort of brown-skinned black-haired type that could fit in just about anywhere around the Equator. Didn't you see the video of their lobby dance?

No.

Well then. Let's adjourn to the living room. This really requires the flat screen.


Crowley clicks off the video.

Fookin' Hell. Hekla's got sand, to confront something like that. Letting their eyes go fiery was a nice dramatic touch.

She was welcoming back her lover, Ammun.

Even so. Scary little pack of fiends.

Yep. Strong. Clever. Sly. Coordinated. All they lack is power. They can do basic smiting and simple miracles like levitation, but that's about it. With the possible exception of London Eric. I observed that he's sporting Prada boots like Hekla's. He explained that he can magic changes to his wardrobe now without my having to give him a model.

Uriel and Ammun regard one another. Uriel murmurs,

I suspect Hekla can do a few more interesting things now, too. Do you know her story?

Unh-uh.

I took her bicycling around the village yesterday. We met Janet and Georgia for lunch. Georgia can interrogate like nobody's business, even through a couple bottles of wine. She extracted Hekla's tale from her.

Well c'mon, c'mon. Tell us.

The short summary is, about six centuries ago she got stationed to a Viking outpost in Greenland. The humans burned her at the stake as a witch. Or sorcerer, actually. She was male at the time. Got sent to Housekeeping for getting herself discorporated. When her sentence was up, she didn't put in for Earth reassignment. It was the 16th century and the humans were still burning witches.

I can see how that might have spooked her. They didn't just burn them, you know. Preliminary torture was part of the package.

Yes. At any rate, she got left in Housekeeping and forgotten.

Just how did she wind up in a shop on Savile Row, then?

Michael. Called her on the carpet and accused her of malingering. Gave her the choice of Earth or filing personnel records on Metatron's floor. She told us how she liked the freedom of being a sweeper. Could go anywhere and be completely unnoticed. The mere thought of being stuck at a dusty back desk was intolerable.

Crowley looks alert.

So she knows Heaven's layout pretty well, does she? They must be keen to find her.

Uriel regards him sharply. Then sighs in exasperation.

Not so sure about that.

How could they not be keen? Six hundred years of poking in corners? She knows where all the bodies are buried. As the humans say.

Do you know, they haven't even officially contacted me yet? All I know is what crumbs The Twins drop. And they're still in Shanghai. I doubt they even know that Daji has been extinguished. Have you checked your messages, Ammun?

I got a bulletin to be on the lookout for Hekla, with her description and picture, but they didn't ask for my assistance.

Crowley is looking more interested by the minute.

So Heaven still thinks Hekla was merely a ranker accidentally abducted by demons?

That was before we left London last night. Don't know what's on the phone now. Left it in the drawer in London.

And once again Beelzebub outmaneuvers the Heavenly Host.

The three remain silent and thoughtful for a long while. Then Crowley murmurs,

Got any deliveries in London today?

No. We're taking the day off here.

Excellent. You can truck my platoon to the meeting that Adam has called for tonight.

Bloody fookin' Hell, Crowley. Angels transport a truckload of demons? Have you lost your fookin' mind?

Well, they don't know how to drive yet. And the Young Master wants to meet them. I know you're not scared of them, Ammun. You and Uriel could smite them to ashes in an eyeblink. So what exactly is the problem?

Ammun's angry face morphs into a speculative gaze. Then he grins at Crowley.

Bollocks to Heaven. Where do we scoop 'em up?