Chapter Twelve
Of Calculations and Occurrences
Prophecy 1412:
'gainst the hordes of evil, the serpent and the dove shalt unite, until the struggle between wrong and right doest end
Fell was reading over The Nice and Accurate Prophecies again. He was working on distracting himself.
The pad of paper by his elbow was covered in small neat rows of writing, some words in English and other symbols most people on earth couldn't read.1
The only two human beings who could read this text were a genius who had invented a method of making energy using the quantum theory and the other had lived out his days in a padded cell.
Fell was calculating how much time was left. He was going by the prophecies. There were a few he couldn't decipher, but he was almost sure they had eleven days at the most. Maybe only seven. His math might be a bit off.
Fell took off his glasses and sighed.
His cup of tea was cold and had been for hours. Caudery had been soundly asleep since the previous night and was still on the sofa, curled up under the tartan blanket. Last Fell had seen, he was in human form.
Fell looked up from the book as a groan came from the sofa behind him. He turned and moments later Caudery stumbled to his feet; eyes blurry from sleep, hair in complete disarray and clothing consisting of only his shorts. His torso and thighs had remained tightly wrapped in white bandages. The various scars on his body looked worse in the morning light. The new injuries appeared to be healing, however. Fell tried not to stare at the snake tattoo. 2
"You're awake," Fell said.
"Ngk." Caudery shrugged, leaning on his elbow against the bookcase, one eye half closed.
"Sleep well?"
Caudery only yawned.
"Dream of anything?" Fell inquired.
Caudery drew a hand over his face, thinking. "Uh, no."
"Excellent," the angel said, closing the book.
Fell had put a lot of lavender and chamomile in Caudery's tea. Its effects were positive.3
"Where am I?" Caudery asked.
"You're in my bookshop, Caudery."
"Eh."
"Don't you remember last night?"
Caudery opened his eyes a bit more. "Vaguely," the sleepy demon replied. "What happened to my clothes?"
"They're drying," Fell said, standing. "I washed them. I had to get the blood off."
Caudery's eyes widened, revealing full orange. "Oh!" He looked down, his hand went to his bandaged chest. He looked at the angel, embarrassment playing over his face. "Um, think my stuff might be dry yet?"
"Should be. I'll check."
Fell went upstairs to fetch the clothes where he'd hung them: trousers, shirt, waistcoat, tie, socks and jacket. They were all miraculously dry and free of stains. Fell had left Caudery's belt and chain on the coffee table. Since both were metal, they hadn't needed to be washed.
Caudery was lingering by the desk when Fell came back down.
"What are you doing with those scissors?" Fell asked sharply.
Caudery almost dropped the scissors. "Hair," he said timidly. "It's-s-s too long."
Fell reached out to grab the pair of scissors and Caudery yanked them away from the angel's range.
"I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself," Caudery grunted.
"If you say so."
Fell deposited Caudery's dry clothes on the sofa, avoiding the discoloured portion. Caudery found the gold-framed mirror in the bookshop and started hacking at his scraggly black hair. Fell pretended to be cleaning up his desk, while really watching Caudery. Caudery's mental state worried him. He wasn't sure if it was a wise idea for him to be handling sharp objects. Nothing dreadful happened, however. Caudery's hand seemed to be steady and a pile of black locks built up on the floor around his bare feet. Finally he stepped back and turned to Fell.
"Er, what do you think?"
Fell thought it looked like he'd just cut his hair with a pair of dull scissors. But he didn't say so. He said, "Trim a little more on the left," while subtly circling his finger. Caudery's hair returned to his normal style; short and wispy down the back and around the ears with longer fringe falling over his forehead.
Caudery cut a bit more, not noticing the miracled evening.
"Better?"
"Yes," Fell said.
"Good." Caudery gathered up the cut hair in his hands. "What should I do with this?" he asked, referring to the hair.
Fell watched a few strands fall to the floor. "Just leave it. It's not really all that important right now."
Caudery opened his hands and let the rest of the hair drop. Fell opened his mouth. Caudery's face twitched. Before Fell could react, Caudery was on his knees, brushing all the hair back into his palms.
"Can't leave a mess like this," he grumbled.
He stood and dumped the trimmings into the wastebasket to the side of Fell's desk. Then Caudery paused and looked at Fell, opening his eyes all the way. Fell had a good look at Caudery's face and was pleased to see the swelling had gone down. The bruised colour around his right eye was less and the shade more of a sunset than a banana peel. Caudery's hands were on the edge of the desk.
"What day is it?"
"Tuesday," Fell replied.
Caudery's fist connected with the wood, nearly spilling the cold tea. "I have to get out of here."
Caudery was at the sofa the next moment, pulling on his clothes.
Fell closed The Nice and Accurate Prophecies.
"Caudery."
The demon was trying to yank his trousers on over his boots. Fell reflected it would have been much easier if he had put the trousers on first, then the boots, but refrained from saying so.
"S-s-so wrong, so very wrong," Caudery was muttering. "Gotta fix it, have to stop it somehow."
Fell left his desk.
"Caudery, will you cease for a moment? We need to talk about this."
Caudery looked up. "Can't, angel- I mean, Fell. It's my fault. All my fault. Hastur found the manuscript and decided to use it for his own benefits. It's no longer fiction. It's real and I have to stop it."
Caudery was on his feet; shirt and waistcoat pulled over his bandaged chest, the rest of the snake tattoo disappearing from view. He was working on the belt.
Fell shook his head.
"You're not going anywhere, Caudery."
"Eh?" Caudery stopped tucking in his shirttails. He suddenly looked worried.4
"You're not in a fit state to be heading out alone," Fell explained gently.
"But I have to! I have to-"
"No, you don't."
"It's the end of the world I'm talking about!"
"Yes, which is why we are going to do something about it, together," Fell said. "Now here, put these on and tell me everything."
He handed Caudery his tie and chain necklace, and pulling a chair close, he sat down and looked expectantly at Caudery.
The demon tossed the tie and chain around his neck. "There isn't time for this," he said.
"There is always time." Fell had the whiskey bottle open and poured some into a glass. He pushed it towards Caudery. "Drink this."
Caudery stared dubiously at the brown liquid on the table in front of him. He looked at Fell. Concern was written across his face. Fell reached out a hand and held up the glass. Caudery took it, shaking a little.
"Heaven would object to us working together," he said softly. "You know that."
"And Hell wouldn't?"
Caudery's fingers tightened around the glass. His eyes squinted at the whiskey.
"Doesn't matter and I wouldn't care if they did."
He downed the alcohol in one swallow. He shook out his hair and began to knot his tie with fervour. The old Caudery was back. Caudery knotted the tie and grabbed the whiskey bottle.
Fell waited as Caudery drained two more glasses.
Then Caudery sat back and began to talk. The angel listened and he listened intently.
When Caudery had finished both talking and the entire bottle of whiskey, Fell stood and got his coat. He handed the demon's coat to him.
"Where are we going?" Caudery asked.
Fell straightened his collar.
"We are going to Tadfield."
The men from the moving company helped Anathema carry some of her larger items into the cottage. She had agreed to rent it furnished, so she didn't have to worry about tables and chairs and squeezing bulky chests around tight corners. All she had with her were the essentials.5
When the men had finished, they gave Anathema a smile and drove off. Only when she was alone did Anathema sigh. She looked around at her new surrounds.
It was a snug cottage, with a sitting room, sunny kitchen, and two small bedrooms upstairs. A fair-sized garden circled the house and was bordered by flowers and a boxwood hedge. It was, in every respect, the perfect English cottage. Even the wisteria vine out front trailing up the side of the door was perfect. Just the place for honeymooners to spend a quiet, romantic week together.
Anathema went into the kitchen and began unpacking. It really was a shame she would only be here until the end of the world. And she would be here alone.
There was no husband to join her, no boyfriend or fiance. No groom would come through the front door all smiles and she was no bride.
Anathema took out a box of first aid supplies and placed it in the cupboard near the sink. A row of jars containing medical herbs and tinctures sparkled next to the kitchen window.
It didn't take Anathema long to put everything in its place. She had brought very little with her in reality, as she wasn't going to be in the village of Tadfield for very long. It was a pity. She wanted to explore, to walk the dusty lanes without worrying about burning skies and an Antichrist and raining fish and all that jazz.
Anathema laid out the last of her personal possessions on the dining table. These consisted of a worn Bible, (New Kings version), an exercise book, a set of colored pens, map of the surrounding countryside, a calculator, and lastly, the small wooden box of note cards.
Anathema looked at the box, then turned and went upstairs. She opened all the windows in the bigger bedroom. A cool summer breeze came in, rustling the curtains. Anathema looked out over the garden and the top of the village square into the distant fields. A snatch of birdsong reached her ears. 6
Anathema found herself wishing Newt could see this, wishing Newt was here with her.
But Newt was in London. And she was in Tadfield.
Anathema went back to the kitchen. She made herself a large cup of hot, strong tea, no cream, no sugar. She sat down at the table and opened the exercise book.
She took a deep breath.
"Okay," she said.
She could do this. She knew how, she had spent her entire life preparing. She would find the Beast, even if it took her days going without sleep. She would do it.
Anathema switched on her little portable radio for some background noise. Even the news would do. A brief second of static and music came on.
Everyday, it's a gettin' closer
Goin' faster than a roller coaster…
Anathema opened the note card box. Beginning at the back, she picked out all the cards marked with a colored sticky tab. These were the relevant prophecies, all related to Armageddon.
Everyday seems a little longer
Every way, love's a little stronger…
Anathema adjusted her glasses, took a sip of strong tea, sharpened a bunch of fresh pencils and got to calculating where the Antichrist was.
Everyday, it's a gettin' closer
Goin' faster than a roller coaster
Love like yours will surely come my way…
Fell let Caudery take the Bentley. He even let him drive, (mainly because Fell actually couldn't drive himself), though it was not without slight apprehension. He knew Caudery was going to put his foot down. He did. The car reached an extreme speed within mere seconds of Caudery engaging the gears. Fell went back in his mind over what they had just discussed to distract himself.
"So what you were saying, is the world is about to end," Fell said, hinting.
"Yup, and very soon," Caudery replied.
"On next Saturday," Fell said, trying to not look at the speedometer.
"You calculated it out that exactly?" Caudery glanced at him.
"Eyes on the road, please."
"Saturday, just after tea," Caudery quoted, while reaching across Fell to the glove compartment. He pulled out a new pair of sunglasses and put them on, while driving with one hand.
"They copied everything from our book?" Fell asked.
"Eh, with a few minor changes. They aren't going to wait eleven years for the Antichrist to grow up a little, that's for certain. They want Armageddon now. Two years is all the demons needed."
"And for most of those two years you were asleep," Fell said pointedly.
Caudery groaned. "I was scared, okay? I didn't know what to do. I couldn't go to anyone or anywhere, definitely not you."
Fell visibly blushed, but Caudery ignored it. He popped a disc from its plastic case and stuck it in the CD player. Queen began to play.7
Ooh, let's go!
Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one bites the dust, yeah
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too
Another one bites the dust…
"So now we've only got eleven days before everything burns," Caudery bluntly stated as fact.
"Everything doesn't actually burn in Revelation," Fell put in.
"We don't know that!" Caudery threw his hands in the air. "Remember what it says in 2 Peter, chapter 3!"8
"Please just focus on driving the car," Fell said stiffly, hoping his stomach would stay where it was supposed to.
How do you think I'm going to get along
Without you, when you're gone…
Fell sneaked a glance at the speedometer and instantly regretted it.
"We really shouldn't interfere anyway," he said.
"Oh yeah? Why not? We wrote this, remember. If we don't interfere, then Armageddon will happen prematurely, countless scores of people will die and it will be all our fault. Do you want that happen?"
"It's an omen," Fell said.
Caudery hissed, a sound Fell was not used to yet. "Omens," Caudery said.
"Yes, it's a bad omen." Fell was trying to talk some sense into him.
You took me for everything I had
And kicked me out on my own
Are you happy? Are you satisfied?
How long can you stand the heat?
"Omens." Caudery was looking mad. "You know what the Word says about omens," he howled. "Good omens or bad omens, to bloody Hell with them all!"
Fell stuck out his chin. "There is no need for language like that, Caudery," he said with reproach.
"You might as well call it conflicted omens," Caudery continued, talking over the angel like he wasn't even there. "Or bad luck, signs or some other superstitious shit."
There are plenty of ways you can hurt a man
And bring him to the ground…
Fell was offended by Caudery's mouth almost as much as his driving was making him feel sick. He didn't say so. He just gripped his seat and bore it. He didn't want to do anything else to alienate Caudery again. What Fell didn't realize was Caudery's swearing meant he was again feeling comfortable around him. The only other beings9 Caudery swore at were the Bentley and his houseplants. And they couldn't talk to him.
Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust
And another one gone, and another one gone
Another one bites the dust, yeah
Hey, I'm gonna get you, too…
Fell swallowed his pride and defended the supernatural. "It's in the prophecies, you know!"
"What prophecies?" Caudery growled.
"Haven't you heard of Agnes Nutter?"
"No, should I?"
"She wrote a book of prophecies four hundred years ago."
"Big deal."
"It is a big deal!" Fell retorted. "It's the only true book of prophecies."
"Oh, good for her," Caudery said satanically. "What'd she do, win the spiritual gifts lottery or did the Almighty just think she was special and give her an extra dose of blessings?"
"Don't joke about it, if you please," the angel glared at him. "I am perfectly serious. I've spent a good portion of time studying the book lately. Each of the prophecies in it relating to events which already have occurred were right on the money. I made notes."
"Did you now?"
"Caudery, I know you're a bit over-emotional, but please at least pretend to care about what I'm telling you. It's important."
Caudery sighed, easing his foot off the accelerator, much to Fell's gratitude.
"I know. Fine, I'll listen. But I'm not over-emotional, angel. It's more like petrified nervousness."
"I see."
"So what's this Agnes Nutty got to say about all this?"
"Her name is Agnes Nutter. Most of the prophecies she wrote had to do with her family and were written specifically for their benefit. The book even has little notes in the margins from various descendants."
"Okay… and her other prophecies?"
"The end of the world. It's all in here; the Antichrist, fire, blood, and us. She also mentions omens specifically."
"She wrote about us?!"
The demon almost slammed on the brakes as he roared up Eastbourne Terrace past Paddington Station.
"Yes," the angel managed to calmly reply.
Caudery regained control over himself. "Ngk."
Fell took that as a sign for him to go on. He took the book out from under his jacket and carefully turned to one of the dozens of small paper scraps he had put in for bookmarks. He skimmed down the page then read out loud:
"Prophecy 923: In a conflict of omens, the fates shall beest hath decided and thee of the Light and thee of the Devile shall turn to each other whither the ordinary shall end."
He looked at Caudery. The demon was silent, his forked tongue sticking out over his teeth. For a moment, the only sounds were of the Bentley's engine and the music coming from the radio.
"Wow," Caudery said at last. "What else does she say?"
"A lot, dear boy. An awful lot."
"Shoot," Caudery said.
It took Fell a couple of seconds to realize he was talking about the book. Fell turned to the very beginning and started to read. Caudery was silent and listened. The car's stereo was also quiet, even though Caudery hadn't touched it, almost as it the Bentley were also listening to the angel. Caudery occasionally uttered some syllable of exclamation if called for, but mostly remained silent as the angel read out loud. Fell eventually had to stop as Caudery's driving was making him feel a trifle unwell.10
"So," Caudery said after a pause, "Agnes knew all about this business before we did. Tadfield, the book, the Antichrist and everything."
"It appears so." Fell was working on not thinking about his stomach. It wasn't working.
"You sure you didn't read up on this ahead of time?" Caudery inquired. "You aren't pulling my leg here? You haven't just been orchestrating events all along to line up with the prophecies?"
"Of course not!" Fell protested. "I told you I didn't open my safe until the night when you stumbled in babbling about it being the End."
"I wasn't babbling, angel."
"You had been drinking, however."
"Yeah, I don't deny it. So what?"
"I don't know." Fell's confidence had been on the wane since Caudery had begun to drive. "And I'm not even touching you, so I couldn't possibly be 'pulling your leg,' whatever that means."
"It's an expression, Fell, figure of speech. Means putting one over, kidding around, joking."
"I never joke about serious matters."
"I know that, angel. Known you long enough now. Offended you during the second conversation we ever had, at the cafe, remember? I seem doomed to offend you."
"I wouldn't say doomed-"
"Oh, come on. Use your intelligence. If I, if we can't sort this out, I don't know. It isn't looking pretty, angel."
"Don't call me that, Caudery!" Fell said. "I can't risk anyone else finding out."
Caudery scoffed, twisting the Bentley around a corner.
"It's all to the wind now," he said. "All reality is at stake, no matter whether Agnes Nutter predicted it all or not. It's still wrong. Secrecy doesn't matter anymore. So call me Crowley. No more Caudery."
Fell looked at him. "Crowley?"
"My real name. Concealment is pretty pointless now, you agree?"
Fell gripped the dashboard. "But I've worked so hard at this image-"
"To Hell with that," Caudery growled. "Do you think they care? I can't imagine we're very high on the to-do list."
"Caudery, Crowley, look, if they knew we'd been fraternizing-"
"Fraternizing?! What do you mean by that, Aziraphale? I was already in the bad books, never mind whatever's happened with the Antichrist."
"That wasn't your fault!" Fell said. He was feeling too ill to comment on Caudery's use of his celestial name right then.
"Nah, they don't care," Caudery went on. "Had me marked out as a problem from day one. Hastur just won the perfect excuse to turn me into sausages. You, too, if Heaven finds out. So now we just have to find the creature before they do, angel. Easy."
"Right," Fell said.11
"If we don't find the demon," Caudery said, "we're all doomed."
"Doomed," Fell said, hugging The Nice and Accurate Prophecies to his chest.
The Bentley increased speed, shooting around two parked cars and a pedestrian on the crosswalk.
Fell squeezed his eyes shut, desperately praying that the Lord wouldn't let him be discorporated in this infernal machine.
"Caudery- Crowley, please slow down!" Fell pleaded feebly. "You can't go a hundred and fifteen miles an hour in central London!"
"We're not in London anymore, angel," Caudery looked over at his cowering passenger with something like entertainment. "And why can't I go 115 mph? If the car wasn't supposed to go this fast, it shouldn't be on the speedometer. "
"You'll get us- or someone else killed! And besides, you're speeding!"
Caudery shook his head and floored the accelerator. Speeding was the least of his problems. The worst that could happen was he would get pulled over and booked. Speeding was the only way to get out of London quickly. Anyone who was anyone knew this. There was no way Caudery was going to sit in traffic for hours on the M25. Despite being a speed demon,12 Caudery had never yet killed anyone by his driving. You simply arranged matters so no one was in the way and then no one got hurt. Easy. There was no point in trying to explain this to the angel, however.
Caudery glanced over his sunglasses at Fell. The angel looked positively green. Caudery got on the freeway and eased his foot off the throttle a little. Fell opened his eyes again.
"How far is it to Tadfield?" he asked.
"Eh, about a hour and a half," Caudery replied, "Ideally that is."
"And at the rate you're driving, we'll arrive…?"
"In about fifteen minutes."
"Ugh."
"Oh, come on, angel. Loosen up. Read some more from that book."
"I can't. I am going to be sick."
"No, you're not. Open the window. You are not going to be sick in my car."
Fell rolled down the window as advised and sat leaning his shoulder against the door. He did feel better, though he wasn't sure whether it was from Caudery's firm declaration of his state of heath or the cool evening air on his face. Perhaps both helped.
Caudery noticed the angel didn't look quite so pale anymore.
"Better?" he asked.
"I think so," Fell admitted.
"You could let your wings out," Caudery slyly suggested, watching for the angel's reaction.
"In public?" the angel cried. "Are you crazy?!"
"We're not in public," Caudery said with a straight face. "We're in my car."
"My wings wouldn't fit in the car anyway- they're, they're too big! We've have to cut a hole in the roof!"
Caudery had to grin. "You're missing the point, Fell. It was a joke. I was proving something. Your car sickness is gone. Isn't it?"
"Oh, yes, I suppose it is."
The angel blushed, feeling foolish. He opened up the book and began to read to himself.
Caudery put a new disc in and cranked the stereo up.
Fell didn't seem to mind and they listened to the Best of Queen as the city fell away and the night continued to deepen all around.
Newton Pulsifer had arrived to find the bookshop locked and closed.
All the shades were drawn. The lights were off. There was a note clipped to the door and it was addressed to Newt. He unfolded it. In Mr. Fell's wavy handwriting he read:
Dear Newt,
Just popped out for a bit. No need for you to come in, unless you feel like doing some tidying, (key is under the loose brick to the left side of the door, third one down). There's not a reason for you to worry about anything. Absolutely no reason at all. It's not like we're trying to prevent the end of the world or anything. Well, it seems Caudery is getting impatient, so I'll leave the decision regarding the shop up to you.
Sincerely,
Fell
After he had finished reading the note, Newt stood and puzzled.
The note didn't sit right with him.
Mr. Fell hadn't left the bookshop in months, not since Newt had given him the information on Caudery's apartment. Caudery had been out of the picture completely. Neither Newt nor Mr. Fell had seen or heard anything of him in almost two years. And now he was suddenly back? Newt didn't like it. He didn't like the coincidence of this happening just when Anathema was leaving. It felt like it was more than a coincidence, almost like something which was already arranged or planned, like a prophecy of Agnes Nutter.
Newt dug around in his bag and pulled out the bunch of cards Anathema had given him. Newt stared at the cards, determination rising inside of his chest. He would find the answer to all this.
Newt retrieved the spare key and let himself in the shop. He switched on the lights and nearly tripped.
There was a rug in front of the doors. A rug that hadn't been there before. Newt sidestepped around the oval rug carefully. The rug wasn't right. It was off-center on the floor and not lined up with all of the other elements in the room. Mr. Fell was all about symmetry. There was no symmetry here.
Newt peeled up the rug. Under it, the lightly-coloured titled floor bore a stain; a dark unpleasant stain. Newt rubbed a finger on it. The stain was fresh, the substance came away on his skin. Newt looked at the red on his finger suspiciously. He put the rug back down.
There was something going on and he really didn't like it.
Newt stowed his bag and jacket, glancing in the backroom as he did so. He spotted two glasses and an empty bottle on the low table by the sofa. Newt went over and sniffed the bottle.
Whiskey.
Next to the bottle lay a pair of dark sunglasses. They were broken. Newt recognized them as belonging to Caudery. A tartan blanket was messily thrown on the sofa.13
Newt frowned. He wasn't going to touch anything in the backroom. It wasn't part of his job. There was one thing he could do. He could finish reading that old book on the supernatural. Some feeling in Newt's gut told him it might be useful.
Newt pulled the book from the shelf and put it on the table in the corner where he liked to read. He laid the note cards to it. Newt adjusted his glasses. He might not have been the smartest in his class, but he was stubborn. Newt opened the book to the place marked and with a great deal of determination, he began to read.
Caudery was driving slower than usual.
Fell would have appreciated this if he didn't have a nagging suspicion that Caudery was lost.
"Do you remember any of this?" the angel asked.
"Yes and no," Caudery replied, his eyes staring out the windscreen.
"You were here two years ago," Fell put in.
"Yeah, and I wasn't in the best frame of mind. Everything looks different in the bloody fog."
"There's no need to to swear, Caudery. We'll find the manor. Ah, what's that up ahead?"
They had reached Tadfield. The Bentley's headlights bounced off a stone wall running parallel along the village road. A church spire was visible among the mist-shrouded trees to the right.
"It's a church," Fell said.
The demon grumbled something Fell chose not to hear.
"Just pull over, please."
Caudery applied the brakes and jerked the steering wheel, pulling over hard. Soft light was visible through the lead-pane windows of the stone church.
"Why do you want to stop here?" Caudery said.
"Because we need to ask for directions, Caudery and what better place than a church?"
"I have a map."
"That's over eighty years old," the angel pointed out. "I'll go in. You just sit here and get in a better mood or something."
The angel got out in a huff. Caudery watched him smooth out his clothes and walk across the churchyard. Caudery sat still for a moment, breathing in and out while counting silently to ten. Then he hit the steering wheel with his palm.
"Oh shit," he swore.
He locked the Bentley and made his way up the path. It was an old church, yet was also inviting-looking, perhaps from the lights inside. The fog only swirled high at the level of the treetops. The grass of the churchyard was clipped and the flowers well maintained. Caudery could see all of this perfectly well in the dim light. He had no trouble deciphering even that the windows were regularly cleaned. He pushed open the heavy doors and slipped inside.
Fell always took comfort from being in churches, especially the older kind, built of stone with hardwood beams and high windows.
This was a very old church. Fell guessed it was medieval, probably built during the thirteenth century. The sanctuary was lit entirely by candlelight, candles circled the room and were perched on the ends of the pews. It was quiet and peaceful.
Fell looked about him, momentarily lost in a cozy feeling of happiness.
"Hello? Anyone here?" Fell called.
He was answered by the creak of a door opening. A man of middle age entered the sanctuary. Fell immediately recognized him as the vicar, based on the amount of spiritual intuition the man had. Fell could almost taste it.14
Also, the man was dressed like a vicar.
"Welcome," he said to Fell. "Bit late for anyone to be here."
"Ah, yes, the ah doors were open," Fell said.
"They're always open, even in the middle of the night," the vicar replied with a reserved smile. "Anything I can help you with?"
"Yes, there is, actually," Fell said. "Seem to have gotten a bit lost-"
He was cut off by the creaking of the doors behind him swinging inwards accompanied by a low "ow, ow, ow."
Fell turned to see Caudery walking down the aisle towards him. Except he wasn't walking. He was hopping from foot to foot, like a man on hot metal.
"What are you doing in here?" Fell said. "I told you to wait in the car!"
"Didn't (ow) feel like waiting, (ow)," Caudery said with a grimace.
"Do you know what you're doing? This is a church!" Fell whispered harshly. "Your feet…!"
"I'm not going to go up in smoke, (ow), or anything," Caudery reassured him, shifting his feet back and forth. "It hurts, (ow), but I can handle it."
Fell wasn't convinced, but he didn't remark anymore on the subject. The vicar had been watching this exchange with puzzlement.
"Um, Tadfield Manor?" Fell asked him.
"Just up the road, past the village," the vicar said. "It's the first turn on the left. Can't miss it."
The vicar was studying Caudery as he continued to hop from one foot to the other. Caudery had quickly realized he knew the vicar. He had been the prison chaplain. Did everyone in Tadfield work at the penitentiary? The vicar was also remembering where he had previously seen this man with dark hair and dark glasses.
"You're Anthony Caudery, aren't you?"
Caudery tried to be more subtle about moving his feet. "Unfortunately, yes," he replied, through his teeth.
Fell wasn't sure what to say, and looked from Caudery to the vicar and back again.
"Why unfortunate?" the vicar asked. "Breaking the law always requires justice, though I will say your sentence did strike me as being a bit overmuch."
"Long story," Caudery said, shifting to his other foot.
"And you have no time to tell it?" the vicar said, the edges of his mouth almost turning into a smile.
Caudery shook his head, with Fell nodding in agreement.
"End of the world," Caudery said hurriedly. "Heaven, Hell, angels and demons, an Antichrist… why am I telling you all this?"
"Caudery, don't be rude," Fell scolded.
Caudery hissed through his teeth. "Er, consecrated ground, ouch, sorry."
He was trying not to dance, which was fairly difficult, as the soles of his feet not only hurt immensely, but were actually burning like bare flesh on sand in the desert.
"If I'm not being too curious, might I ask why you two are looking for the Manor?"
The vicar was looking from the face of one, who looked worried and uncomfortable, to the other who had an expression of withheld pain.
"Has to do with a baby." Caudery was biting his tongue. He was studying the flower arrangements around the altar to take his mind off his feet. The candlelight was making the colours of the flowers change from bright to dark and back again as the flames flickered. It didn't help. His feet were still on fire.15
Fell took over in explaining. "About two years ago, give or take a few days, a baby was left with the nurses at the manor," Fell said. "We are trying to trace it."
"Hmm, two years ago," the vicar said thoughtfully. "Yes, there was a baby. I remember now. It was a Friday night. An American diplomat's wife adopted a child. A lot of excitement for our little village."
"I'm sure," Caudery said.
"Anything you can remember about that night?" Fell asked.
"Some sort of noisy car sped through the village around midnight, then back again not long after. Woke up at least half the village. It was the talk of the pub next day. Usually very quiet around here."
Fell shot a glance at Caudery, who merely scowled.
"Also unusual for more than one adoption to happen on the same day," the vicar continued.
"Oh?" Fell said.
"They keep good records at the manor."
"Oh, records!"
"Records, great," Caudery said.
"But-"
"Can we go now, angel?" Caudery hissed.
Fell bid a hasty farewell to the vicar and followed Caudery.
A sigh of relief escaped from Caudery's lips when he stepped outside onto the path.
"Ah, sweet earth."
Fell kept silent until they were in the Bentley again.
"Why did you come in?" he asked.
"Eh," the demon shrugged.
"You could have been discorporated."
"Nah."
"And why not?"
"I've built up my resistance over the years," Caudery replied, turning the key. "I can enter a place of worship without being in unbelievable pain, but it does burn."
Caudery reached down and rubbed one boot unconsciously. Fell saw the action.
"But why enter at all? You're a demon."
Caudery ever twitched so slightly that it missed the angel's attention.
"Can't help it," the demon said. "I'm drawn to it, like a wasp to honey. Everything tells me I shouldn't be there. Not welcome, not wanted. But I keep going back. The holy keeps calling in the midst of the diabolical influences. Don't understand it, but there it is, angel."
Fell said no more until the manor's tall iron gates came into view.
Newt watched the bookshop doors intently over the top of his book. It was now evening. He was still waiting for Mr. Fell to return. Mr. Fell and possibly Mr. Caudery. It seemed logical that both of them would appear together, as they had evidently left together.
Newt looked to the grandfather clock as it chimed the hour. He checked his watch against it. Fell could be absent all night. It all depended on where he and Caudery had gone, and if Caudery was driving. Newt seriously doubted if Mr. Fell knew how to drive a car. It didn't strike him as likely.16
Newt swept the the tiled floor in the bookshop slowly and meticulously. It didn't take him long to clean the rest of the shop. Dusting was a quick activity. He always avoided the brick-a-brack and statues, as he was sure they were beyond price. When Newt had finished gathering dust, he returned to the book. He was going to finish reading the darn thing even if it fried his brain. Somehow he felt there was a connection between what lay in the musty pages of this book on supernatural powers and what was going on in the real world around him. Nothing about the weather lately was natural, even he could tell.
Newt hadn't really been one to believe in God or the spiritual realm, but he felt he would soon have to believe in something. Something real, something solid. A firm foundation is an essential feature for any person's life as well as any building, and up until now, Newt had been without a foundation. He had believed in science and electronics, but neither of these had never lived up to his convictions. They had always failed him.
And one couldn't build their life on theories and material objects that were doomed to fail and rust. Newt might as well say he believed in ice cream. It would all melt anyway.
Newt shut the book. He looked at the clock again. A few more hours had passed. It appeared to be just as gloomy and dark outside as it had been that morning. Wind was rattling at the windows and trying to sneak in under the doors.
Newt stood and wandered into the backroom again. Perhaps there was something there, some clue he had missed as to where Fell and Caudery had gone.
Newt picked up the tartan blanket with a finger. The sofa had stains on the cushions; stains which matched the large one on the tiles in the shop.
Blood, Newt thought.
Newt replaced the blanket.
On Fell's desk sat a cup of cold tea and a small pile of paper scraps. Newt couldn't read anything on the papers except for a single sentence on the top sheet.
In Fell's handwriting it said:
Seven days until Armageddon
Notes:
-All scripture comes from the NKJV and the NIV translations.
-Credit for Every Day belongs to Buddy Holly and Norman Petty
watch?v=Ns0G5Bc4XEY
-Credit for Another One Bites the Dust belongs to Queen and John Deacon
watch?v=PqUenEMwsdQ
1 Because most people can't read the language of angels, besides angels. Most demons have lost the ability to as a result of the Fall.
2 This was a very large tattoo of a snake and hard not to stare at. It coiled its way around Caudery's body from its tail on his right ankle, up his leg and thigh, around his stomach and up his back and shoulder, and finished with its head on his right arm. Fell didn't feel that it was right to ask about this adornment. At least, not at the present time.
3 Herbal tea has many more health benefits than most people know of. Not only can it sooth the nervous system, calm the digestive track and ease upset, but it can effect the subconscious mind and thus, dreams. The amount Caudery had consumed had put him in a sort of lavender and chamomile-induced stupor. Which really wasn't a bad thing.
4 He was still partly afraid the angel might exorcise him. He had every reason to be distressed, except that Fell's actions had so far shown he was again regarding Caudery as a friend, not as an enemy. Fell noticed Caudery's reaction and adjusted his approach.
5 She had packed no swimsuit, sandals nor any winter clothes. She wasn't going to be there long enough for it to snow.
6 Perhaps it was a nightingale? Anathema wasn't the bird-watching type, so it very likely could have been. One will never know.
7 At least, Fell assumed it was Queen. All of Caudery's music sounded pretty much the same to the angel.
8 "But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare." -2 Peter 3:10
9 Well, objects really.
10 Unwell is an understatement. Fell was feeling the worst he had ever felt in his life.
11 Caudery was being sarcastic and Fell had missed it completely.
12 And yes, he had coined that particular phrase.
13 A blanket that oddly matched Fell's pink and gray bow-tie perfectly.
14 Most humans lacked anything spiritual in their beings.
15 If the touch of an angel was uncomfortable to a demon, walking on hallowed ground was thousands of times worse. Caudery had the scars to prove it.
16 Given Fell's history with the automobile, it was an entirely logical conclusion. And it was was entirely the truth.