The creature struck me across the head and I fell inelegantly to the stony ground. The thing laughed with a sound like sewage barrelling down a drain. "Die, angel. Your body will die and your soul will be rejected by Heaven and Hell. You will be nothing."
It smashed its foot on me several times I do not know how many. I wrapped my arms about my head and lay still as it stamped on me. The humans are safe, I thought. Crowley is safe. And when he realises what this creature truly is, he will know how to stop it. He has a demon's natural capacity for evil, he will know what to do.
The world around me turned pink with human suffering, and what must be my own blood.
The monster continued to batter me, but even though it was absolutely ruining my good coat, I sought strength and sent out feeble miracles to heal London, between the blows.
Above me, thin sunlight tried to peep between the clouds. There was time, there was hope.
My injuries were great, but it did not matter. What mattered was that here was a pigeon, a plump, rainbow-plumed bird, pecking its way among some dropped chips on the ground a few feet away, unperturbed by the monstrosity kicking my head in nearby.
"Bird," I called, lifting my head from the gravel. My throat was dry, or maybe broken. "Tell… Crowley."
The pigeon paused in its destruction of a chip and cocked its head.
I was running out of time. "Tell him. Protect the humans. After I am gone."
The pigeon let out a soft coo, and took off.
I let my head drop. The message would fly on ash-grey wings to Crowley, down at Brighton, and although I expected him to be a little sad, I was confident he would do as I asked.
To the monster I called, "Do it. End me. I can withstand anything."
It was a terrible lie, but if the thing turned all its hateful efforts to me, then the humans would survive. They would return to their work or play, a little confused and sore, but in good health. They would simply think they'd eaten a very bad sandwich.
"My pleasure," said the monster, and raised its limbs once more.
Only a heavenly miracle could save me now. And given I had just tittle-tattled on Gabriel to a higher authority, that is, to Internal Affairs, it seemed unlikely that he would hurry down to bestow his angelic blessing.
In a last, desperate effort, I picked up my books and hurled them towards the monster. It spluttered, and coughed, and stumbled a little as a set of leather-bound tomes struck it in the face. It stopped sending pain to the humans, and stood confused as an explosion of pages fluttered around its bulbous, bloody head.
A page drifted down to me, side to side, gently like a feather. It was the picture of the cheeky starling, unrepentant, tilting its head at the reader and showing off its glorious black wing.
I smiled, and closed my eyes.
