Chapter Nine
Chuck stuck a finger in the air above the sigil, tasting it. Knowing Lucifer, he half-expected to find a lingering flavor of lemon scented furniture wax, or perhaps stinky tofu. Disgusting stuff. He should never have talked the Doctor into showing the Chinese how to ferment… anything.
But no. The air above the sigil was only a bit dusty. There were bones everywhere though, and crumbling stones and waste and mystery stains. Still, he could smell Lucifer's exquisite hand in the craftsmanship, the ark of a chosen finger dipped in archangel blood as it traversed the large long-buried megalith which would become the link between the Super Secret Hideout and the deep chasm that was Nemeton Monastery. It was too good a choice morsel for Father's old school chum to pass up.
Like any good author, he considered the Plan as he walked to the edge of the bone shard pathway to check on his pursuers. The Four Archangels were busy pretending to guard the TARDIS; the Doctor and Castiel were sleeping off Lucifer's little hazing prank. The Boy Wonders were with them, thanks to an extra blood sigil mickey, also courtesy of Lucifer.
Ah, boys will be boys, he thought as he began to glimpse the countless pairs of sightless eyes that festered in the dark.
Hearing the cries of the seething newborn masses come ever closer, he snapped his fingers. His lawn chair appeared, unfolded and standing and everything, complete with a mint julep and a Panama hat; not the cheap Chinese paper version, but a true Montecristi superfino. He moved his finger upward, levitating the whole set-up over the sigil.
Then he sat down, donned his Panama, and began the short wait before the party.