Trigger warning: this chapter contains a bit of language and severe bodily harm is caused to one character. Whether she survives or not is not told. The true nature of demons is also depicted. Read with discretion!
Chapter Thirteen
Of Failure and Misfortune
"He who is unjust, let him be unjust still; he who is filthy, let him be filthy still; he who is righteous, let him be righteous still; he who is holy, let him be holy still."
-Revelation 22:11
"Are you positive this is it?" Fell asked as Caudery slowed and pulled the Bentley into the stone-lined drive.
"What do you mean 'are you positive?' Of course I'm sure."
"Well, it was foggy."
"It's the place," Caudery said, putting the car into park by the line of bins. He could have parked closer to the entrance, but he didn't feel like it. Too many unpleasant memories.
Fell raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Yup, it's the same place," Caudery asserted. "It's the manor. Stone lions out front, black iron gate. Can't be two in a village this size. Let's go attack some nurses. Not literally, of course," he added at the look of alarm on the angel's face.
"Weren't they nuns?" Fell asked, getting out of the car.
"That was our story, Fell. Entirely ours. No nuns here. It's a perfectly normal hospital run by perfectly normal, ordinary people. Not Satanists." 1
"Who took in an infant demon spirit," Fell put in, straightening out his jumper.
"No need to rub it in," Caudery mumbled in embarrassment, thankful that the dim light hid the reddening of his face.
Fell made sure his bow tie was even.
"Well, then, let's go talk to some nurses."
The manor doors were unlocked and they went in. The pair were greeted by a brightly lit and empty foyer. There was no one at the reception desk. A little sign stated that the receptionist was out for tea.
Caudery consulted his watch. "Bit late for tea," he muttered.
"I suppose we should wait?" Fell suggested.
"Ngk," the demon replied, hands in his pockets.
Caudery was not going to stand around and wait. He instead wandered down the hall. The dark wood paneling was familiar to him. He remembered the paintings as well. Several period portraits of various saints and religious icons decorated the walls. Caudery distinctly remembered a large one which depicted St. Frances of Assisi. 2
"It is a rather handsome building, I must say," Fell remarked, admiring the woodwork about him.
Caudery was studying the painting of St. Frances.
"Interesting chap," the demon said. "St. Frances, that is. I meet him a few times."
"So did I," Fell said and joined him.
Fell also looked at the portrait, trying to see what it was that Caudery had seen in the painted face. He had to confess he had found the actual saint more striking than this depiction of him. The painting came off as flat and not very realistic, either. The only feature which had been captured well was the eyes.
Fell shifted his feet restlessly.
"Shouldn't we be looking for someone who works here?"
Caudery snapped out of his contemplation.
"Right, forgot. Let's-"
He didn't finish the thought.
A nurse had appeared from down another hall, with teacup in hand. She looked up and noticed Fell and Caudery by the painting.
"Ah, good evening, gentlemen," she said. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"I do hope so, my dear." Fell gave her a heavenly smile.
Caudery had no time for smiles. He was studying the nurse's face. She was the same nurse he had handed the basket to, a one Mary Hodges.
"It's you," he said.
Nurse Mary stared at him rather blankly for a moment, then the black hair and sunglasses struck a cord in her distant memory.
"Oh!"
"Yes, oh," Caudery said.
"Would you mind if we asked you a few questions?" Fell was being all politeness, perhaps trying to make up for Caudery's rudeness.
"Not at all." Nurse Mary smiled back at Fell. "What would you care to know?"
Caudery was more direct. "What happened to the baby?"
The nurse looked thoughtful. "Baby," she repeated.
"The one I gave you two years ago," Caudery prompted.
Recognition spread over the nurse's face. "I remember now! Goodness, that was a while ago, wasn't it? You're the father."
This caused Fell to glance at Caudery in puzzlement. "You're the father?" 3
"No!" the demon sputtered. "I told you it's not, oh, never mind. Whatever. Tell you later." He turned back to the nurse. "Please just tell us what happened to the kid."
"I would help of course, if I could," Nurse Mary said, some hesitation coming over her, "but I don't remember."
Caudery stared at her. "You don't remember?"
The lady shook her head. "I'm afraid not."
"How could you possibly not remember?!"
Caudery took a step closer to the nurse, who backed away from him in surprise. Fell put out a hand on Caudery's sleeve, stopping him.
"Don't frighten her," Fell said.
Caudery was visibly seething, with his teeth clenched and eyes glaring behind his glasses. Then he blew out through his nose and calmed down.
"Okay. Do you recall anything about that night?"
The nurse looked at the man in the dark glasses nervously.
"Please." Caudery softened his tone even more.
"It is very important," Fell added.
Nurse Mary's smile returned. "Well, let me see. I took the basket from you," she said, addressing Caudery. "Got the baby all ready and took him in to the Youngs. They were interested in adopting a baby at first, but then Adam came in, and the baby girl was taken away by Julie. The Youngs ended up taking Adam, not a baby after all."
"Wait a minute, who's this Adam?" Caudery demanded.
"Our oldest foundling," Mary said with a smile. "The Manor had him since he was a little boy of two."
"And this other baby you mentioned?" Fell asked gently. "A girl, I believe?"
"Just a week old at the time. The Dowlings took her. Mrs. Dowling said she had the sweetest face and the most adorable shade of strawberry-blond hair."
"Lovely," Caudery said, not caring about hearing anymore of an infant human's virtues. "What happened to the other baby, the one I gave you?"
Nurse Mary frowned. "I don't know."
"You don't know."
Caudery felt his temper threatening to rise again. A nurse couldn't remember what had happened to a baby left in her care? Mary Hodges struck him as being a bit on the scatterbrained side, but not so dim as to actually lose a child. 4
"Are you sure?" he asked. "Completely sure?"
"Yes, I'm so sorry."
"Would you-"
Fell cut him off. "Really, Caudery, let her be. She has already told us everything. You don't have to go on asking her. She doesn't know."
Caudery glanced down at Fell. "Sure?"
"Yes. Perfectly." The angel's face was sincere and genuine. 5
"Fine." Caudery let out a dissatisfied sigh. He turned and started down the corridor.
Fell gave Nurse Mary a smile. "Thank you so much for your help. I'm sorry we troubled you-"
"Angel, come on!" Caudery hissed over his shoulder.
Fell bowed to the nurse and followed. Nurse Mary went back to the receptionist desk with her tea, wondering who the odd pair were.
Fell found Caudery out on the gravel, pacing in an agitated manner and kicking at the stones with the toe of his boot. When he saw the angel, he tossed the cigarette he'd been smoking. Caudery swore, but Fell noticed the slump of his shoulders. The demon was feeling defeated.
"Dead end," Caudery said bitterly.
Fell wished to disagree and couldn't. They got in the Bentley. Caudery sat for a moment after starting the engine, flexing his hands on the steering wheel.
"Where to next?" he asked Fell.
The angel squared his shoulders. "To London."
"Right."
Caudery pulled onto the main road, switching on the headlights. He didn't need them, but he knew they made the angel feel more assured that the car wouldn't hit something. They drove in silence through the village. Fell glanced at the church as they went past. He couldn't keep his questions at bay any longer.
"Wasn't that a bit of a risk?" he asked, "Treading on holy ground?"
Caudery didn't look at him. "Eh."
"Why take the risk in the first place?" the angel insisted. "Why risk the possibility of being discorporated, incurring shame from your superiors and, well, destroying your demonic reputation?"
"None of it matters," Caudery said.
"What do you mean?"
Caudery shifted the gears and put his foot down on the accelerator as the village fell away behind them.
"I've been discorporated before," he said. "I've been shamed before. And I have no reputation. Well, I do have one, but it isn't bad. Well, bad for a demon, that is, but I can't help it."
"Can't help…?"
"Being kind. Helping people. Doing good where I should be doing evil. I'm a creature of passion. It's my nature. How I was created. It never went away, it- it fairly oozes out of my pores. It's like you and your books, Fell. I've tried to do evil, tried to fill my job description, and I can't. I'm just not cut out to do this. I just can't be a demon!"
The Bentley's speed had increased while Caudery talked. Caudery's foot was now down to the floor, his entire body tense, his face flushed with emotion. The speedometer arrow was clocked off the numbers. If Fell had to guess, he'd say the Bentley was going close to 205 mph.
"Caudery, Crowley…"
"You can just stick with Caudery if you want. And I know, I know, I'm speeding."
Caudery eased his foot off the accelerator.
"I wasn't referring to that," Fell said, though he was happy when the car slowed to a more normal and reasonable speed of seventy-five. 6
"Oh, well, um… I don't know what we're going to do about the Antichrist."
"Shouldn't we pay a call on the Dowlings?"
"They don't have it," Caudery replied.
"How do you know?"
"When I handed the basket over to that ditsy nurse, she commented on what an adorable little man he was. The Dowlings have a girl. I'll bet it's a real baby, too. Oh, hell. Put another CD in, will you?"
Fell pulled a few plastic cases from under him. One was cracked. Fell put that case stealthily under The Nice and Accurate Prophecies. He looked at the other CDs in his hands.
"What sort of music do you feel like hearing?"
"Don't care. Just put something in."
Fell opened a case marked Reasons for Revolution and fumbled with the disc.7
"It goes in label up, shiny side down," Caudery said.
Fell balanced the disc between his fingers and popped it in the stereo after removing the disc that was previously in there.
This world's a tortured place to be
So many things to torment me
And as I stumble down this road it takes a toll…
"Where are we headed?" Caudery asked after a few moments. "We could go to my place, I suppose."
"Definitely not," Fell said. His side would object most strongly, as did part of his angelic being. Caudery might be his friend, but there was still a wall between them. They were still an angel and a demon.
Beyond this physical terrain
There's an invisible domain
Where angels battle over souls in vast array…
"Why?" Caudery swerved the car around a bend. "Afraid I'll try to corrupt you by my demonic influences, Aziraphale?"
"Don't joke about something like that," Fell glared sideways at the driver, then regretted it as a wave of carsickness washed over him.
But down on earth is where I am
No wings to fly, no place to stand
Here on my knees I am a stranger in this land…
Fell waited through another section of the song before attempting to speak again.
"Drive to the bookshop and we can talk this over."
"Nah, don't feel like it," was Caudery's reply.
"What do you suggest we do, then?" Fell asked, trying to keep his eyes straight ahead on the road.
I need an intervention
A touch of providence…
"Sleep on it."
"We don't need to sleep. Heaven and Hell don't sleep, and you have already slept on it for two years!"
Fell gripped the seat under him.
God is there, there's no denying
The signs are everywhere, the signs are everywhere
God is there, there's no denying
It's supernatural, it's supernatural
Supernatural…
"Supernatural," Caudery sang along in his deep voice.8 "I'll buy the last one," he said to the angel, once again increasing the Bentley's speed.
"What do you mean buy it?" Fell responded. "You can't just buy years like something in a shop!"
"That isn't what I meant, Fell. I meant, I agree with you on the last statement you said."
"Then why didn't you just say so, Caudery?!"
"To drive you nuts!"
Caudery let out a strangled laugh. Fell glanced at him. The demon was grinning crazily, his eyes wide, practically all orange and no pupil.
But I can see You coming
You're not so far away
'Cause I can feel Your power
Surging through the whole of me…
"Please just drive the car," Fell said with as much dignity as he could muster.
Caudery continued to grin.
Some things just can't be explained…
Newton heard the faint jingle of the door lock from the backroom. It was accompanied by the sound of raised voices. Newt instantly recognized them as belonging to Fell and Caudery and they were arguing.
Newt carefully replaced the papers on Fell's desk. He turned out the lights and slipped into the main shop, just peering around the edge of the nearest bookcase. 9
The front doors swung open. Fell came first, removing his key from the lock. Behind him followed the slender form of Caudery.
"I don't care, Caudery, my answer is still no," Fell was saying.
"Oh, come off it, angel," Caudery replied surly. "You know just as well as I do, it's as good a shot as any."
"Meaning what, exactly?"
"Meaning, we're on our own. What I suggest is-"
"So far your suggestions haven't been of much use!" Fell snapped.
Newt decided to make his appearance. He stepped out into the open, switching on the shop lights dramatically. Both Fell and Caudery visibly jumped. After a moment's confusion, they composed themselves. Fell tried to be calm and Caudery tried to be cool.
"Oh, Newt, you're here," Fell said, hanging his hat on the stand beside the gold-framed mirror.
"Yes," Newt said. He crossed his arms.
"Been here long?" Fell was smoothing down his hair.
"Several hours," was Newt's reply. He wasn't going anywhere just yet. He was feeling stubborn, perhaps due to the string of strange current events or some hidden mountain of strength he didn't know he had.
Newt scrutinized the two men before him. Fell was trying very hard to be his usual self. Though the silent, brooding Fell was gone, he wasn't entirely back to being himself. He was nervous. For one thing, his bow tie was sideways, as was his watch-chain.
The lack of symmetry in Fell's attire reminded Newt of the rug in front of the shop doors, (which both Fell and Caudery had stepped around), and of the mess in the back room.
Newt shifted his gaze to Caudery and stared.
Caudery looked terrible.
Even the dark glasses didn't mask the distortion of his face. Most of his tan skin had gone black and blue, the right side of his face being particularly bruised. Faint ghosts of old burns were slightly visible across his cheek. Various cuts and surface wounds in different stages of healing were matched by lips that had clearly split and bled.
Newt looked back at Fell. The bookshop owner had no sign of mark on him. Newt narrowed his eyes. He pushed on the bridge of his glasses with a forefinger.
"So, Mr. Caudery lost, I take it?"
The words were out of his mouth before Newt knew what he was saying.
Fell looked perplexed. "Lost, what, Newt?"
"The fight," Newt said.
Caudery's eyebrow rose and his damaged lips began to curl into a sort of grin. "Wasn't a fight," he said.
"It sure sounded liked one." Newt stood his ground, staring hard at those sunglasses.
"Why, Newt," Fell cried, "I can assure you-"
"Save it," Caudery cut him off. "Three rounds, no decision," he said to Newt. Caudery grabbed Fell by the sleeve. "We're going to talk. Now."
Caudery pulled Fell through the shop to the backroom, paying no heed to the protests made by Fell. Newt didn't need to eavesdrop to hear the conversation this time.
"Really, Caudery, we've been over this-" Fell started.
"Shut it, angel."
"Caudery, please. Newt will hear you."
"I don't give a damn if he does. What could he do? Besides, he's paid to listen. Might as well give him something to report."
"Paid? I don't really…"
Even Newt could hear the lie in Fell's voice. He wouldn't have fooled anyone, let alone Caudery.
"You do," Caudery replied in something of a mocking tone. "We're both paying him to do the same thing. To spy. Courtesy of the witchfinder army."
"Army?" Newt heard Fell squeak.
"Yes, army. You're their benefactor, too, aren't you, Fell? Stop lying. The colour of your face gives you away."
"Alright, yes, you might as well know. I pay them an annual fee to help with their activities."
Something Newt took for a scoff came from Caudery.
"Activities," Caudery said. 10
"Well, I do. You do the same, I gather?"
"Yeah, so we're both idiots."
"I am not an id-"
"I'd call it a coincidence, but there's no such thing as a coincidence, is there, Fell?"
"No," Fell replied, somewhat testily. "Can we get back to the other matter at hand? The more pressing matter about the baby?"
"I told you, it wasn't a baby."
"Fine. Creature, then. What are we going to do about it, Caudery? Er, Crowley."
"Just call me Caudery. I'm out of ideas. You didn't like any of them anyway."
"I never said that," Fell protested.
"Yeah, you did, angel."
Newt had quietly worked his way closer to the backroom as he shelved books. He was now in the history section near the chessboard and could pretty much see everything that went on in the backroom, besides hearing it.
Fell was cleaning as he talked, folding the tartan blanket and clearing the mess off the coffee table. He picked up the pair of broken sunglasses.
"Do you want these?" he asked Caudery.
Newt didn't see Caudery's face as his back was towards him, but he did see Fell's. Fell seemed to be attempting to control his temper, yet Newt couldn't recall ever having seen the bookshop owner angry before.
Caudery turned and took the broken glasses from Fell. Newt then saw Caudery's face. Caudery had taken his own sunglasses off. Newt blinked to make sure he was seeing correctly.
Caudery had orange eyes.
Newt shook his head. No one had orange eyes. They must be contacts. Could just be his imagination, though, because Caudery turned his back to Newt again and all sight of his eyes were gone.
Caudery tossed the broken glasses into the wastebasket by Fell's desk. Caudery didn't say anything until Fell had finished tidying up. Then he spoke.
"Look, if we don't do something, if we don't try and find that thing, it's going to turn ugly very quickly. The storm is already brewing out there."
Fell had picked up his cup of cold tea and promptly set it down again, (or rather slammed it), sloshing the contents over the desk.
"I know!" he said with heat, glaring at Caudery. "You don't have to remind me. What do you think I've been trying to help you do for the last few hours?!"
Newt saw Caudery growl, sharp teeth forming into a snarl. "That's not what I meant."
Fell had grabbed a rag and was cleaning up the spilled tea. From Newt's position, it looked to him like the rag had fishy dark stains on it.
"Oh, isn't it?" Fell said to Caudery. "The End is coming and here we are arguing. It's ridiculous!"
"It is ridiculous," Caudery agreed. "You're ridiculous. I'm ridiculous. This whole thing is ridiculous. I don't even know why we're still talking about it."
Fell flung the rag into the wastebasket, startling Newt who nearly gave himself away by dropping a book on the floor. It went unnoticed.
"Completely ridiculous," Fell spat, glaring at Caudery.
Newt saw Caudery's shoulders stiffen. "Bloody hell, I don't even know why I'm s-s-still here," he hissed. He turned and shoved on his sunglasses.
For a brief moment, Newt caught sight of the look on his face. He was positively livid.
Caudery started to leave, then Fell spoke.
"You're here because you have nowhere else to go."
Caudery stopped.
Newt stood still behind the shelf, holding the armful of books to his chest.
"That's right," Caudery said in a low volume. "Nowhere else. And neither have you, angel. We're on our own. Both alone; the same."
"We are not the same," Fell said.
Caudery's mouth formed into a hard line. He spoke with his back to Fell. "No, we're not," he said. "I once thought we were, but we're not."
"We're nothing alike," Fell said acidity.
Caudery looked ready to break something. He turned towards Fell.
"Like being right, don't you? All righteousness and smugness, a bit Holier-than-thou, eh? Does it make you happy to always be right? A bit of a complex, isn't it?"
Fell's face had gone an angry shade.
"I am not always right, Caudery. I have been wrong. I was wrong about you. You really are just a serpent and I am a great deal holier than you. You are Fallen."
Caudery stepped towards him. Quick as a flash, he grabbed Fell by the coat collar and shoved him forcibly against the wall. Fell's feet barely touched the floor. Newt caught a glint of orange flash from behind the sunglasses.
Newt was still as stone.
Caudery's sharp teeth were exposed as he clenched them in a snarl. He and Fell were barely inches apart, noses touching. For a moment, Newt was sure Caudery was going to either kiss Fell or strangle him.
"Shut up!" Caudery hissed. "Don't ever say that again. You are a hypocrite. A bloody pharisee, Aloysius Fell. It's a dangerous pit you're walking on the edge of. Be careful you don't fall in."
Caudery removed his right hand from Fell's collar and pointed a long accusing finger at him.
"I don't need you, angel. I never did. Don't you forget it. I can get along perfectly well by myself. I have for years and can damn well do it again. Have Newt put that in his report. Then you can read it in black and white. How will you like that?"
Caudery poked him the bow tie with his finger, then released Fell, who tumbled backwards into his desk.
"Have a nice doomsday," Caudery sneered over his shoulder on the way out the door.
The bookshop doors slammed, the bell rattling furiously.
Newt jumped, knocking part of the shelf on the middle ages to the floor. A screech of tyres in the street outside indicated Caudery's swift departure.
Fell came into the main part of the bookshop. Newt quickly busied himself with the books. Fell stood staring at the doors.
Newt handled the books more slowly.
Fell took out a pocket handkerchief and dabbed at his neck.
Newt stopped pretending to work.
"Did you hear all of that, Newt?" Fell asked.
"Well, um, yes, I did," Newt admitted, "but not if you didn't want me to."
Fell looked at him. His face was flushed, and the anger had passed. "Doesn't matter," he said, half to himself.
Even though no physical blows had been exchanged, Newt concluded Caudery had won that round. Words spoke far louder than actions in this case.
Newt's glasses slipped. He pushed them up with a finger.
"Should I keep moving books or go make some tea?"
Fell wiped his hands on the handkerchief and put it away. He didn't answer the question. "Aren't you seeing Anathema today?"
"No." Newt felt his annoyance return. "She's gone."
Fell gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry. You seemed to be getting on so well together."
"So were you and Mr. Caudery," Newt boldly ventured to say.
Fell shook his head. "It's different, Newt. Not similar at all."
Could have fooled me, Newt thought.
"I think tea is a very good idea," Fell mumbled, going in search of the kettle.
Newt put all the middle ages books back on the shelf, and wondered just what else could possibly happen next.
Caudery was angry. He was very angry.
He had of course been aware of his temper, but he was almost beyond exasperation.
That angel. That stubborn idiot of an angel. Why did he have to be as stubborn as a jackass? Everything was going completely sideways. There was a missing Antichrist somewhere where there shouldn't be one. The Great Plan had gone totally awry and yet Fell was just going to sit elegantly and trust the Almighty.
Angels were not supposed to do nothing and sit back drinking tea.11 Angels were supposed to work unceasingly. Demons were supposed to thwart the righteous unceasingly. None of this "we'll wait and see" crap.
Was the Devil sitting around on his rear with a shot of whiskey in hand, waiting for something to happen? No, he was not. Neither was God. He wasn't waiting for anyone; angel, demon or human. So this demon wasn't going to, either. Caudery had waited long enough. He wasn't going to wait anymore. So what if Fell wasn't going to help him. He didn't need him. He'd meant exactly what he'd said.
Caudery slammed both feet on the brakes. The Bentley stopped so suddenly it almost flipped over. Caudery stamped across the street to his tenement building. He wasn't going to go down without a fight, not even if this turned into war. If Hell wanted war, he would be ready.
Caudery stuck his key in the lock. The lobby door swung limply open before he even turned the key. Caudery's eyes darted to the door frame. The metal was twisted, the hinges nearly gone, as though a monster had torn it apart with its jaws. Caudery finished the job with a blow from a snakeskin boot.
The door fell to the floor of the lobby with a loud crash.
Caudery lept over it and up the stairs. The door to Mrs. Alms' flat showed the same signs of forced entry. Caudery felt horror rise inside of his being.
They wouldn't kill an innocent old lady…
Of course they would. They were demons.12
"S-s-swine," Caudery hissed. "Bloody, filthy swine."
He clawed his way into the flat, climbing over debris, all the while calling for the little old lady who had softly worked her way into his tainted heart.
"Mrs. Alms! Mrs. Alms, are you here?"
Destruction meet Caudery everywhere he looked. The flat had been taken apart. Framed paintings had been torn from the wall, beautiful pottery was shattered into pieces, books and mementos ruined.
Caudery ran down the hall.
The kitchen floor was invisible beneath all the contents of the cupboards. All the drawers were pulled out and the cupboard doors open. The sitting room made the demon stop in his tracks. The plants were destroyed. Leaves and dirt were strewn over the carpet; flowers and stems ripped apart.
And in the middle of all this lay the small figure of Mrs. Alms.
Caudery dashed over.
"Mrs. Alms, can you hear me? Oh, dear God, no," he pleaded.
Caudery flung his glasses off and began to brush the dirt and vegetation from Mrs. Alms. Her clothes were grimy. The sweater looked like it had been burned. Her skin was cut and bruised.
"Bastards!" Caudery spat.
He gently took the lady in his arms, trying to determine if she was even still alive. He couldn't tell if she was breathing. Her face felt cold to his touch, but Caudery's hands were hot. He listened for a heartbeat. He couldn't hear anything except for his own laboured breath. Then Mrs. Alms stirred. It was ever so slight, just a motion of her head, yet Caudery saw it.
"Mrs. Alms!" he cried.
Her eyes slowly opened.
"Anthony," she said faintly.
"Yes, it's me. Are you able to talk?" Caudery asked gently. "Who did this to you?"
Mrs. Alms looked up at Caudery as though trying to bring him into focus.
"I wouldn't tell them anything," she said. "They wanted to know where you were."
"Who did?" Caudery asked, though in his gut he already knew.
"They were so ill-mannered," Mrs. Alms said, "I don't know how they got into the building… forced their way in, must be. I didn't tell them where you had gone. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have…"
Caudery gently brushed some stray dirt from the lady's face.
"It will be fine, everything will be fine," Caudery said, not at all feeling it would be. He wasn't sure how extensive Mrs. Alms' injuries were. She might live for years or only a few more minutes. She was very weak and pale.
The lady closed her eyes, then opened them again, focusing on Caudery's face.
"Anthony, dear, is your name really Crowley?"
Caudery managed a weak smile. "I'm afraid so. Wish it wasn't."
"I like Caudery better," she said, her energy slowly fading.
"Just stay with me," he pleaded. "Please stay with me, Mrs. Alms."
Mrs. Alms reached up and touched his face with cold fingertips. "You really do look so handsome without your glasses," she said softly.
Caudery's heart was warmed and at the same instance also broken. Her hand dropped to her chest. Her eyes closed and her head slowly drifted to the side. Strong, conflicting emotions ran through Caudery. The first was something he shouldn't be able to feel. Extreme sadness filled him as he looked down at Mrs. Alms' still form.
Caudery stood with her in his arms. The sofa was the only piece of furniture not covered in plant matter. Caudery laid Mrs. Alms on it, arranging a pillow under her white hair and folding her hands over her jumper. He softly kissed her cold forehead.
Caudery knelt amid the debris, hands over hers. Something hot burned behind Caudery's eyes. He bowed his head.
"Lord receive her and have mercy," he prayed.
There was a loud crash overhead. From Caudery's flat. Caudery's gaze drifted to the ceiling. He stood, gritting his teeth. The sorrow Caudery had been feeling was turned to anger; anger of the deep and powerful kind.
They were going to pay for this.
Caudery left Mrs. Alms' sitting room. He paused only long enough to put through a call to the hospital.13He shut what was left of the door and ran up the rest of the stairs to his own flat.
It came as no surprise that his door was smashed in. Caudery briskly straightened his tie and was in his flat. His boots crunched over glass shards and broken plant pots. His clean floor was a mess of potting soil and pools of alcohol from what appeared to be his entire stock of whiskey and assorted liqueur.
Caudery's anger rose even more when he saw what they had done to his own plants. Then the lounge. Vinyl albums and cassette tapes were littered everywhere. Caudery's heel broke a CD from his soul music collection.
Caudery hissed. The two who had done this and harmed Mrs. Alms were still in his flat. He didn't need any powers to know this. He could smell them.14 Caudery balled his hands into tight fists.
"I'm here!" he howled.
The Dukes of Hell answered his call. They appeared moments later in the lounge, Hastur from the kitchen and Ligur from the direction of the bathroom.
Hastur sneered, dropping the bottle of gin he was holding. It shattered into glistening fragments, splashing Caudery's boots.
"The flash bastard returns," Hastur said.
"Thought he'd be too scared for that," Ligur cackled.
Caudery was shaking with fury, and was almost on the point of exploding.
"I did return," he said smoothly like silk. "I returned for a very good reason."
"You have no powers," Hastur grinned evilly.
"Maybe not," Caudery said, "but this flash bastard is going to kick your asses!"
Caudery had a chair in his hands the next moment. He caught Hastur under the chin with it. Hastur landed on the floor, followed seconds later by Ligur, who's head had been clipped by a large shard of broken pottery.
Caudery grabbed a book before the Dukes of Hell regained their footing again. Ligur's eyes were glowing intensely as a line of black blood ran down his face. Hastur growled, pulling the remains of the chair off himself.
"You're bloody asking for it, Crawly."
Caudery raised the book. "Bring it on!"
Ligur lept towards him, but Caudery was ready. There was a crack as the book binding hit bone. Ligur crumpled into the peace lily, sending leaves and flowers flying.
Hastur ignited his hand.
Caudery swung and missed.
The hand made contact. Caudery's entire face burned. He didn't need to see the damage to know the skin was blistered and red. Caudery dropped the book and grabbed Hastur's flaming limb with his bare hands. It burned like Hell, but Caudery didn't care. With a grunt, he heaved Hastur off the ground and threw him.
The Duke of Hell went crashing into the bookcase, ruining countless albums, many of them beyond price.
Caudery didn't stop to morn the loss. He lept over the sofa, grabbed the plant mister off the shelf by what used to be the rubber plant15 and dashed into his office, locking the door behind him. He had to work quickly. He had less than five minutes before the other two demons regained consciousness.
Caudery went to the wall behind his desk. Here hung a framed print of the Mona Lisa.16 And behind this artwork was a wall safe. It was the kind of safe which could survive a nuclear war. In the safe lived something very dangerous. Something that made demons quake in fear. Something Caudery had risked a lot to possess.
A thermos filled with holy water.
Caudery opened the safe, revealing the thermos, and a pair of long pvc gloves. He pulled out the gloves, and put them on, then took out the thermos. Ideally, he would pour the contents into a bucket and hang it over the door, giving the next being who walked in a disastrous shower. The bucket, however, was in the kitchen under the sink.
Caudery unscrewed the cap of the thermos and peered inside. It was only half full. He removed the top of the plant mister.
There was a crash from the lounge. That would have been the sofa.
Being as careful as he possibly could, Caudery began to pour.
There was a loud smash.
Caudery flinched. That would be the rest of the plants.
A couple stray drops fell to the desk.
There was a nasty murmur of voices. They were in the hall.
Caudery put down the thermos.
They began to beat on the office door.
Caudery screwed on the top of the plant mister. He yanked off the gloves.
The door was weakening.
Caudery armed himself with the mister in one hand and the partly-filled thermos in the other. He climbed up on the desk.
Another blow on the door and a hand came through it.
Caudery stood in the middle of the desk, ready for them.
The door gave way.
Ligur came barreling through the doorway first. He was so mad, he had lost what little humanity he had, snarling like a feral beast with eyes red, teeth sharp as needles and claws for hands.
In a few seconds it was all over.
Ligur rushed at Caudery. Caudery flung the thermos.
The thermos flew through the air, holy water streaming from it and soaking Ligur. The demon screamed, smoked and hissed like a chunk of dry ice, ending as only a melted puddle on the floor.
For a moment, there was no sound from either Caudery or Hastur, as they both stared at the fizzling, smoldering mess. The carpet was ruined. Caudery didn't care. He was looking at what had been Ligur, partly in shock and partly in relief. He had known holy water was extremely dangerous, but not that it was fatal. If Ligur hadn't been ready to kill him, Caudery might have even felt a little pity. Then the thought of Mrs. Alms came to him and all kind feelings fled from him.
Hastur stood with mouth open and eyes wide in horror. "Holy water," he gasped. "That's- that's…"
Hastur let out a scream that made Caudery's skin crawl. Hastur looked at Caudery in a new light, as though he didn't know whether to be horrified or impressed.
"I didn't think you had it in you."
Neither did I, Caudery thought. He stiffened himself.
"Unless you want to join Ligur," Caudery said, "I suggest you leave."
"Oh?" Hastur's fear was fading. His green-toothed grin was reappearing on his face.
Caudery brought the plant mister forward, gripping it in his hand, using the other to steady the tremble he was hoping Hastur didn't see.
"This is also filled with holy water. It's a plant mister. It can squirt water as a fine mist or a steady stream, just as accurately as a bullet from a gun. And I have very good aim. So. Go. Away."
Hastur sneered, slowly shaking his head. "I can always tell when you're lying, Crawly."
"Yeah?"
"I can see your eyes, snake. They are not lying to me."
Caudery felt sold sweat form on his neck and run down the small of his back. The first plan had worked, spontaneous as it was. He had no other plan. No back up. Nothing.
Caudery swallowed, watching a bead of water slowly slide down the mister bottle towards his hand. It looked like he was going back to Hell after all, either by holy water or Hastur.
Then the telephone by Caudery's foot began to ring.
Notes:
-All scripture comes from the NKJV and the NIV translations.
-Credit for Supernatural belongs to DC Talk, Michael Tait, Kevin Smith, Toby McKeehan, and Mark Heimermann
watch?v=ISkEGUo8uFs
1 Although he hadn't thought much of it at the time, Caudery was glad he hadn't been dealing with Satanist nuns. He had a thing about Satanists. He really didn't like them, which is why they had ended up in the book.
2 St. Frances was an Italian friar, deacon and preacher who lived from 1181 to 1226, born as Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone. He was the founder of the Franciscan Order, which includes the Friars Minor and the women's order of St. Clare. He is known to be the Catholic patron saint of animals and is remembered for his miracles and compassion for birds, animals and the critically ill and injured.
3 Fell momentarily forgot that Caudery was a demon, not a human. He couldn't father a child anymore than the angel could. But that's beside the point.
4 She hadn't really lost the child, which wasn't a child, but she had lost many things before. Mary was a bit forgetful.
5 He could sense that Mary was telling the truth. And she was.
6 Reasonable and normal for Caudery's Bentley, but not for any other car.
7 The label on the actual disc said "Supernatural" on it. Caudery had lost the original case and used another one.
8 It might be noted, Caudery had a good voice for singing. It was one of the reasons why he was so fond of music.
9 Trying to be as stealth and quiet as possible. For once, he succeeded.
10 Caudery's voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.
11 Or was it hot cocoa?
12 They would kill anyone; men, women, children. Demons had no regard for the young or the frail. Evil has no restraint.
13 On Mrs. Alms' telephone which had survived the pillage.
14 The smell was rotten, like decaying flesh left out in the open air for the flies to find.
15 And was now only a sad empty pot.
16 It wasn't a print of the painting, but of a sketch made by the artist beforehand. Caudery had been gifted the sketch by Leonardo himself.