Chapter Eighteen
Of Downfall and Hellfire
Prophecy 2285:
The nest be destitute; the last of the birds has't flown. A Queene's song shall end and the chariot of the serpent ride nay moo at which hour the Beast calleth his own.
Newt awoke as early morning sunlight crept in the window. Newt furrowed his brows. His small flat didn't have a window over his bed.
He took a breath as he gathered his sleepy thoughts. If he wasn't in his flat, where was he? He smelled roses and raspberries.
A smile spread across Newt's face.
It was Saturday morning. He was in Tadfield. He had been married to Anathema for one whole day and night.
He turned to his right. Anathema lay next to him, her curly hair cascading over her pillow like a chocolate-coloured waterfall. The pale light was dancing over her closed eyes and slightly parted lips. Newt raised himself to an elbow and planted a kiss on Anathema's forehead. She opened her eyes.
"Hello," she said, smiling up at him.
Even though she looked blurry to Newt without his glasses, she was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. And now she was his wife. 1
"Good morning," Newt said. "Shall I make you tea, Ana?"
Anathema yawned. "Maybe. Let me get dressed first."
Newt snorted. "You have to be dressed to drink tea?"
"I don't like to be at the kitchen table in my nightgown, Newt."
She giggled and Newt laughed along with her. He sat up and leaned back on the pillow while she got up and went to the wardrobe. Newt watched her take out a pastel top and matching scarf.
"So I was wondering," Newt said, "How did you get your name, Ana? Is it an old family name?"
"That's what I like to say," Anathema replied. "It's easier than explaining. My mother saw the word in a book once and thought it sounded like a nice name for a girl. So when I was born, it was the name she wanted. My father tried to talk her out of it. He suggested some perfectly regular names like Elizabeth or Katherine; good old-fashioned names without negative meanings." Anathema sighed. "But, Mum was determined."
"What does Anathema mean?"
"A curse, misfortune or an unpleasant person." 2
"Oh."
"My mother likes to go on about how I could prove to be the opposite of my name; a blessing instead of a curse. Names can be powerful. The names we choose or are given."
"Huh," Newt said, thoughtful.
Anathema rummaged some more in the wardrobe. "What are we doing today?" she asked.
"Don't know," Newt replied, stretching and putting on his glasses. Anathema suddenly came into focus, her face even prettier than before and her figure more curvy.
"Does it matter?" Newt asked.
"Well, I need to know which skirt to wear."
Anathema held up two mini skirts, both black and identical in every way to Newt's eyes. Newt for a moment thought she was being serious, until a mysterious smile stole over her lips.
"You, witch!" Newt said jokingly.
She smiled, putting the first skirt back. "But, seriously, Newt, what are we going to do? The end of the world is still coming. Today."
Newt groaned, his blissful paradise shattered as reality made its ugly appearance. He had forgotten about the impending doom.
"Do we have to?" he said, sitting up all the way. Newt could think of at least a dozen things he would rather be doing, starting with having breakfast.
Anathema was pulling a jumper over her top. "It's today, Newt. This afternoon. Not next week. We still don't know how to stop it."
Newt sighed and got up. "Okay, love."
The M25 blazed to the heavens with a bright orange glow. The outer queue of cars had vanished completely in the flames and were now only a burning ring of fire. No one could get through it into London and no one could leave. The glowing, burning wall circled the city entirely, cutting it off from the rest of the country.
Newt had missed being trapped in it by an entire day. Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy's bus had lumbered through with almost hours to spare. Had the bus not been on time; had Newt's little car died any earlier, then they would have been toast. It wasn't a thought worth thinking of.
Caudery was thinking of being twice toasted as he and Fell sat staring at the wall of fire. Toasted once in the flames, then toasted again in Hell was Caudery's line of thought. 3
Caudery's sunglasses slid down his nose. "Oh, no," he breathed out.
"Dear Lord," Fell muttered, watching the flames burn steadily, even in the downpour. "That isn't hellfire, it is?" he asked.
"No," Caudery said. "No, no. I've never seen hellfire do this. It's… something different. Something evil. And it's my fault again."
"Why is it your fault? You didn't do anything, you were just driving the car!"
"Um, I may have done something to the M25 back in the 1970s," Caudery said apologetically, while turning colour. "Changed the shape a little."
Fell looked at him.
"It was just for fun," Caudery groaned. "Didn't mean anything." He hit the steering wheel.
"And now it's a burning ring of infernal fire," Fell stated.
Caudery groaned again. "Hastur must have thought up this piece. Hell!"
Caudery gave a strangled scream, causing the angel to jump in his seat.
Fell let out a breath. "We'll get there."
"How?!" Caudery cried. "That's infernal fire, angel! It's not heavenly fire, it's not hellfire. It's worse. Much worse. We can't get though it unless we want to discorporate ourselves very painfully."
Caudery was breathing heavily, hands gripping the wheel and terror written on his bleached face.
Fell was not about to give up. He had no ideas, but he didn't say so.
"We'll find a way across it, Caudery." He said this with a firm, calm voice, even though he hadn't the vaguest clue how they were going to leave London.
Caudery looked over at the angel.
"Maybe we will," Caudery said.
He pushed his sunglasses up with his middle finger and switched on the radio. A loud beat began to vibrate through the Bentley.
Mr. good intentions,
So much I wanna do.
My mouth just keeps on running,
But I never follow through…
Caudery threw the car into reverse, and slammed his foot on the accelerator, almost smashing into the car behind him.
"What are you doing?" Fell cried, feeling slightly uneasy.
"You'll see," Caudery said with a hint of a grin on his lips. 4
He edged the Bentley out of the queue of stopped cars onto the shoulder. Then he twisted the wheel around and drove.
Yeah!
I've been captured by the unimportant
Locked in and now it's time to break free…
"Caudery?!"
The demon was driving directly towards the wall of fire. The Bentley was increasing speed rapidly, every second taking them closer. The smell of the flames was filtering into the car.
There's more to life
Open my eyes
Someone is needing You
So I gotta make a move…
"Caudery, please stop!" Fell pleaded, his eyes large and round, his chest tight with alarm. "I was being rhetorical. You can't drive through that! You said so. It will discorporate both of us!"
What good are words
When this world hurts
Real faith will come through
When I make a move…
"Nonsense." Caudery kept his grip on the wheel. "We'll be fine. Use your imagination." 5
"I don't have an imagination!" Fell was beginning to feel moisture run down his face as the heat inside the car reached a dangerous temperature.
"Oh, yes you do," Caudery said over the music. "You've got the best imagination of the lot, angel. Think of all the books you've read."
"All I think of is burning."
"You are not going to burn," Caudery declared. "I am not going to burn and my car is not going to burn. Don't you dare discorporate on me now."
Fell tried to be calm. He was gripping Caudery's shoulder with one hand, the other on the dashboard.
They were almost at the wall of fire. Flames were engulfing the car. Fell's fingers were just starting to catch.
All the cars around them were now only charred shells.
Caudery looked like he was on fire from the orange glow. The heat in the car was almost unbearable. Fell couldn't breath. Caudery's teeth were clenched like plates of steel, his dilated eyes a deep red behind his glasses. His suit was smoking and still he drove on. A smell of hot leather and paint hit Fell's nose.
The radio continued to shout.
To show love and compassion
Where ever way it may be
To put faith into action
Do more than just believe…
Fell shut his eyes and put his powers to work.
He was not going to burn. Caudery would not burn. The Bentley would remain a fully operational car. Leather, paint and metal would not melt in the heat.
The burning sensation was creeping up Fell's arms. He concentrated even harder. Over the buzz of the Bentley's stereo came Caudery's voice. He was chanting something.
"Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine," Caudery said. "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." 6
The smell of smoke was gone.
Fell opened his eyes. He looked at his hands. There were no burns to be seen.
The whole interior of the Bentley was clean, no sign of fire anywhere. Caudery was still in the driver's seat, his face like that of a crazed person. His hands appeared to be welded to the steering wheel.
There's more to life
Open my eyes
Someone is needing You
So I gotta make a move…
"Keep it up, Fell," Caudery somehow said without moving his lips.
"You are not going to burn," he said to the car. "We started this journey in the Bentley and we are damn well going to finish it in the Bentley. 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…'" 7
When I make a move…
We shall make it, Fell thought.
He looked at the solid wall of orange ahead.
It was impassible.
It was impossible.
It was terrifying; able to both freeze and fry a human being in half a second, killing everyone within a block of its reach. It was the product of nightmares, straight from the deepest pits of Hell.
But it was only fire.
It wasn't bigger than God. A ring of infernal fire was nothing to Him. Even if all the legions of Hell arose and surrounded earth, it still wouldn't be too much for the Almighty. They were but a breath. He had brought the universe into existence out of nothing with the breath of His mouth. At a word, galaxies came into being.
Another word could end everything. In an instant. The blink of an eye. Nothing was too difficult for the Great Creator. 8
Fell shut his eyes and began to pray in words no one could understand. Only God knew. The language of angels was for worship and prayer, and Fell lay out his supplication in words he could never have fully expressed in any language of the human tongue. Thus he prayed.
Caudery could no longer utter the words of his first language, but he could still pray and he did so, in English, Latin, Hebrew, Aramaic, Russian, Italian and every other language that had ever existed under the sun; praying the promises from the Holy Book as he did so, the sounds of the Bentley's stereo accompanying him in the background.
The Bentley continued on and the people who were still alive in their stopped vehicles could only watch as the large black car sped forward.
The flames quickly encircled it and then the wall of fire swallowed it whole.
It was the head doctor of Tadfield Manor who opened the door. He had heard Dog's scratching and whimpering from down the hall.
Whimpering and crying were not at all unusual in the manor, as there were often babies and little children around. This sound was not of a baby's cry, however, and the doctor had left his desk and cup of tea to investigate. The cries were coming from outside the manor. The doctor wondered who would be outside at such a late hour and in such weather.
He passed the still forms of Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell, asleep in the lobby chairs. The sergeant was quietly snoring.
The head doctor reached the heavy oak front doors just as the whimper rose into a pitiful howl. The doctor heaved open the door, fighting against the fierce wind that threatened to rip the door out of his hands. The doctor pushed his weight against the door, trying to let in as little of the elements as possible.
He let in a hurricane of rain, leaves and a small, wet, black dog.
Dog was cold and thoroughly drenched to the skin. He was very grateful to the man in the white coat for opening the door. Dog had just begun to feel a little desperate. He shook himself vigorously, expelling most of the nasty water from his coat. He was still cold, but more dry and it was warm inside here, even if the place did smell like the vet's.
The doctor looked down at his coat and trousers, clean thirty seconds before and now splattered with mud and dirty water. The doctor sighed.
"You really shouldn't be in here," he said to the dog.
Dog looked up at him, one ear inside out, making the little canine look very comical. The doctor had to smile. He hadn't the heart to turn him back out into the storm.
"Alright, you can stay," the doctor said. "Just keep out of the patients' rooms, please."
The dog gave him a happy yip, as though he understood him perfectly. The doctor got him a dish of water from the kitchen and left him on his own.
Dog lapped up the water thirstily, then reevaluated his mission.
He was inside. That was good. The man who had let him in didn't seem too keen on his being here, but he also hadn't kicked him right out again. Dog decided to be on his best behavior.
No barking, drooling or unneeded sniffing. No annoying the adults who might be around. He didn't want to hear anything along the lines of "Scat," "Shoo," or the dreaded "Bad dog."
Dog would be the ideal model of canine excellence. He would be quiet and unobtrusive. No one would notice him. 9
Dog finished the water, smacked his chops and shook himself again.
Time to hunt.
He took a whiff of the air and headed on down the large corridor to his right, past the two funny humans asleep in the chairs. One smelled of warm spices and flowers, the other of cigarette smoke. Dog sneezed. The two humans didn't stir.
Dog went on his way, wholly ignored by the hospital staff.
No one perceived Dog except for one.
Two gleaming red eyes followed him, listening to the jingle of Dog's tags, smelling the wet-dog scent and trailing silently after him in the shadows.
"So… what do we know about the Antichrist?" Newt asked. "How do we find him, or rather it?"
Anathema held up the box of note cards and her exercise book.
Newt groaned. "Not Agnes again."
"Well, what would you suggest, Newt? Going around the village and knocking on doors? Then saying, 'excuse me, but is there an Antichrist living here?'"
Newt had to laugh. "So, my methods aren't the best," he said. "What's Agnes have to say that we don't already know?"
Anathema opened the box, and to Newt's dismay, started taking out cards. A lot of cards.
"Oh, Ana, couldn't we at least have coffee first?"
"I made it last night," she said. "Here's a mug and a pot."
She handed him the items with a large smile.
Newt poured a single servings worth of cold coffee into the pot and placed it on the hob. He put the remaining coffee in the fridge with a grumble.
"You agreed to help me, hon." Anathema tickled the back of his ear with a finger.
He responded by kissing her nose. "I know. Shall we compare notes?"
Anathema opened her exercise book and Newt got his extensive folder from his bag and added it to the spread on the kitchen table.
Newt raided the pantry while Anathema organized.
"How many of the prophecies mention Tadfield?" Newt asked, sitting down with a package of ginger nuts.
"These." Anathema said, holding up several cards.
"Okay, how many mention the Beast?"
She held up two more.
"And named persons?"
A few more cards were added.
Newt put the ginger nuts aside. "Let's focus on those for now."
The coffee on the hob was completely forgotten until the smell of it burning reached the couple's noses.
Darkness was over Tadfield. It was over the entire county, the whole nation of England and soon would blanket Earth. In less than a week it had spread from the village, creeping over the sky and land like a layer of slime oozing over the surface of the ocean. It was silent, stealth and deadly.
There were a few people who observed and a few who worried.
The black clouds, the blood-coloured rain and the restless seas were a great cause for worry, but as one demon ascertained, most of humanity didn't see. It was as though they were asleep; walking, talking and breathing, yet asleep without knowing it. Humanity was slowly drowning in waves of darkness and only a few saw the danger. The warning was sounded without being heard. 10
The internet was being flooded with images of the skies and the seas. A few blurry photographs of a large sea creature claimed to be the Krakan. Others thought it was a giant squid. The question was not to be answered, for the ship investigating had disappeared and all connection was subsequently lost.
The fascination of a legendary monster was shortly afterwards buried in a landslide of the burning London motorway, the M25.
Now this was something new, something not out of books or myth. The towering wall of fire quickly surpassed everything else to become the latest online sensation. It pushed the news to the back pages and for the first time in years, cute photos of kittens were not the top trending item on every social media platform.
For a solid twenty minutes, it was all about the M25.
Then the internet crashed.
All communication with London was severed.
Mobile phones died a fiery death and computer screens went black all across the metropolis. Nothing would revive them. No amount of swearing or cursing technology would breath life into the glass and plastic devices. The electronics were most throughly dead. It was a beautiful job. Caudery would have been proud of it if he had pulled it off.
Every means of communication was gone. The burning wall of infernal fire had literally sealed London off from the rest of the world. No one could get in and no one could get out.
Except for one car. One large, vintage black Bentley. It had gone into the fire and it was still running. It was engulfed in a ball of moving flames and showing no signs of slowing.
And the car was not burning.
The temperature inside the inferno was estimated to be over ten hundred thousand degrees centigrade and also negative twelve hundred thousand degrees below freezing. Everything that had tried to approach the flames had been burned to dust within five hundred meters on all sides, on ground as well as in the air.
The Bentley went through unbothered, the tyres spinning on liquefied blacktop, the metal almost white from the heat. The car passed through the fire like a bolt of pure energy. It went into the heart of the flames and shot out on the other side, music blasting and the two occupants alive and well.
The driver was grinning like a maniac, a strange red glow coming from behind his sunglasses. The passenger was gripping his seat with both hands and looked to be in intense concentration, or intense pain. His face was white like snow and when he opened his eyes, no iris or pupil was visible, only a light too bright to gaze on; as though he was full of some sort of supernatural power. His mouth was moving in a silent continuous chant. The dark-haired man behind the wheel was singing along with the music at the top of his lungs, belting out the lyrics as if his life depended on it. 11
The enveloped car roared on down the road, trailing fumes behind it like a banner. It had passed through the M25 and come out on the other side in one piece.
It swung around the barricade onto the M40, still traveling at a speed close to one hundred miles per hour.
A group of firefighters and police officers stared as the ball of fire sped on by.
The driver of the Bentley waved to the onlookers, then floored the accelerator, the flaming car left in a cloud of black smoke and exhaust.
One police officer managed to pull himself together enough to take his cap off and mumble, "Well, that's a new one, eh?"
"Why do you have a bread knife in your bag?"
Anathema was carefully packing the prophecy cards in the wooden box, in order of the number of the prophecies and relevance. The cards with no impact on the present went to the back of the box.
"I thought it would be a good idea to have a weapon with me," Newt replied.
Anathema paused, looking at her husband over her glasses. "But a bread knife?"
"It's all I had!" Newt said in his defense. "Oh- and a pin."
He went over to where his jacket was hung and pulled the witchfinder pin from the lapel. The tip of it glinted in the light from the kitchen lamps.
Anathema glanced at the pin. "Well, that ought to cause someone some harm."
"My thoughts exactly," Newt said, replacing the pin before donning the jacket.
"How insightful of Sergeant Shadwell," Anathema said with a smile, getting an outer layer of her own from the hall. It was a long coat with a sizable collar and cuffs. She tucked the box of note cards into a deep pocket.
Newt had his jacket buttoned. "I think the pin was more for poking witches than for hand-to-hand combat."
Anathema pulled a scarf around her neck. "In a pinch, it might do for both."
"Ha ha, very funny," Newt said.
He searched in his messenger bag for his own scarf. He found it under the map of England. The scarf was old and the tartan didn't go with his plaid shirt or the jacket, but it had been his father's, and Newt was fond of it. Newt eyed the garden through the kitchen window. The wind had not subsided over the night and was just as wild as before. Rain was lashing at the windowpanes.
"So, what are we going to be looking for out there?"
Anathema was fixing a few loose curls of her hair.
"Unusual frequencies, tremors or shifting laylines, I think. The laylines around here have been going crazy."
"Ana, I'm not the one who's physic! I can't see auras or sense if someone is human or a demon."
"But you can sense evil," she said.
"I guess so."
"Just follow your instinct. It got you here. It can lead us to the Beast."
"With some help from Agnes," Newt said.
The wind swept debris into the front hall when Anathema opened the door. The rain was turning heavy and almost seemed thick, like it wasn't water.
"Looks ugly," Newt remarked, pulling his scarf tighter. A strange smell hit his nose. It smelled like burnt metal. "That's odd," he said.
A moment later, the smell was followed by music. Loud music.
Buddy, you're a boy, make a big noise
Playing in the street
Be a big man someday
You got mud on your face
You big disgrace…
What in the world, Newt thought, looking all around, the wind lashing his hair against his face, while thinking, that sounds like… 12
Anathema gasped. "Oh my God, Newt!"
She was looking up the road into the village. Newt also looked and his mouth dropped open.
A giant ball of fire was coming down the road. The full smell of smoke and burnt leather hit Newt in the face as the wind changed direction.
We will, we will rock you
We will, we will rock you…
The fire ball was a car and it was on fire. The car was still moving. It still had tyres and still looked like a car. It in fact looked like a car Newt knew. As it drew closer, Newt recognized it as the Bentley and the two occupants he placed as Fell and Caudery. The music was Queen and it was coming from the car's radio.
Buddy, you're a young man, hard man
Shouting in the street
Gonna take on the world someday
You got blood on your face
You big disgrace
Waving your banner all over the place…
Everything about the car looked fine, except for it being encased in fire.
The Bentley roared past the cottage, trailing smoke and flames. The rain didn't decrease the flames and oddly enough seemed to fuel it. Newt just caught sight of a lunatic in sunglasses and his bow-tied partner before the car was around the bend.
Newt grabbed Anathema's hand and they ran into the storm.
We will, we will rock you (Sing it out)
We will, we will rock you…
It was to Tadfield manor that Newt and Anathema went. They followed the smoke from the burning car and the deafening rift of an electric guitar solo.
The ball of fire cruised through the manor's gates, nearly catching the hedges aflame, while the rain continued spitting from the thick clouds.
Newt was beginning to have second thoughts about this. A car on fire was probably not the worst thing they would encounter. He had to think of Anathema. He paused at the gate.
"What is it, Newt?" Anathema asked.
"Aren't you worried?" he asked.
"Of course," she said, her face flushed, "but we can't quit now."
Newt nodded and took her hand with a smile. They went through the gates.
The flaming car had come to a stop in front of the manor. On closer view, Newt decided it was indeed Caudery's Bentley, or what was left of it. The loud Queen emanating from the inside rather sealed the deal so to speak.
On the final note of the song, the roof of the manor erupted.
Anathema tumbled into a bush. Newt was thrown back against a statue. He looked up to see roof tiles fly off as though they had a mind of their own. Smoke rose from the center of the manor and with it, a small figure. Newt squinted through the rain. A crack across his right glasses lenses made it difficult to see, but the figure looked to be that of a boy.
"Newt!"
Newt scrambled off the ground and helped Anathema out of the bush. She had twigs and leaves stuck in her hair. She and Newt struggled to stay upright in the wind.
The manor doors banged open, people began streaming out.
"What matter of evil be this?!" barked a rough voice. It was a voice Newt recognized instantly.
"Sergeant Shadwell!" Newt waved an arm.
"Private Pulsifer!" Shadwell cried.
There was a flaming car between them. Anathema had Newt's arm and Newt was shocked to see Madame Tracy beside Shadwell. Nurses and doctors were running from the manor, some supporting patients, others carrying them.
"What are you doing here?!" Newt hollered over the din of cries and screams.
Shadwell tried to reply and hadn't a chance of being heard.
The doors of the Bentley opened and in a cloud of smoke, Mr. Caudery and Mr. Fell staggered out. Newt instinctively backed away from the flames, shielding his wife. Shadwell's hands went to the thunder gun.
Caudery looked around, not seeing Newt, Anathema, Shadwell or Madame Tracy. He had his tongue out, like he was testing the air and Newt was close enough to see it was forked like a serpent's. 13
"There he is!" he cried, pointing to the roof and the figure which was floating midair above the wreckage.
"Witchcraft!" Shadwell bellowed.
"What is that?!" Anathema had to yell over the screams and the howling wind.
"I think it's a person!" Newt yelled back.
Anathema stared. "Wait, it's- Oh, my God, it's Adam!"
"Who's Adam?!" Newt yelled.
"He lives down the lane from me!" Anathema replied. "You met his father!"
"It's only a child!" Fell cried, his voice was full of concern. His gaze had followed Caudery's finger, even though his eyes were not open.
"I told you he was!" Caudery retorted. "Oi, what are you doing?!"
Sergeant Shadwell had stepped from the flock of people and planted himself in front of the Bentley with his strange weapon raised. From Newt's angle, the witchfinder sergeant appeared to be surrounded by the flames.
"Away with yeh, foul demons ah darkness!" Shadwell roared.
"Don't be an ass!" Caudery replied. Newt noticed the man was standing next to the Bentley without burning or smoking. He had his hand on the top of the door.
One of the Bentley's side mirrors suddenly hit the ground.
"Caudery, I can't keep this concentration up much longer," Fell said. His eyes were shut, his face was entirely drained of all colour, the muscles contracted in intense emotion. 14
"Foul fiends!" Shadwell barked, unmoved from his place.
"Sergeant Shadwell-!" Caudery started.
"Caudery, he's moving!" Fell yelled, grabbing everyone's attention away from the sergeant and back to the boy above the roof. He was surrounded by a red glow. The glow seemed to be what was holding him in the air and it was spreading over the manor, moving like a wave of ocean water. The boy went with it, going over the road and across the fields, taking the wind and rain with him. Everyone, including a small black dog watched, too transfixed to do anything.
When the glow shifted from the manor, the dog sprang to life, barked excitedly and taking off at a run, zipping down the drive and vanishing out into the lane.
Caudery quickly turned to Newt and Anathema. "What is after the village? Any power plants? Nuclear stations?"
Newt drew a blank. He knew next to nothing about Tadfield.
"There's a military airbase," Anathema offered. "It's not used anymore."
"Why would it want to go to an airbase?" Newt voiced, staring after the red glow.
"It could blow something up," Caudery said.
"But there's nothing there," Anathema said. "No plans, no weapons or soldiers. Just a bunch of computers. Nothing that could-"
"Miss Device, it takes only one computer to start a war," Caudery said darkly.
Anathema paled. Newt felt cold.
Something else fell off the flaming car. It looked like part of the exhaust pipe.
"Angel, can you keep the Bentley together for a bit longer?" Caudery asked over the flames leaping off the car roof.
"I will try," was the gasping reply.
Newt saw the back of Fell's neck glisten with moisture in the light and when he turned, Newt was staring into eyes of white fire.
"Get in the car!" Caudery shouted to Newt.
"How?! It's on fire!" Newt blurted.
"Just get in," Caudery said in a tone not to be argued with. He opened the back door on his side.
Newt looked to Anathema. "Did Agnes say anything about us dying in a flaming car?" he asked.
"No," she said, her face pale.
"Then, I guess we get in." Newt said.
Newt held her hand tightly. He wasn't sure if he could move.
Caudery dashed around the car to the side closest to them and flung open the other door.
"Shadwell, Tracy, you get in, too," he ordered.
"In that infernal contraption?!" Shadwell cried. "An' be burned alive?!"
"You won't be. Would you rather walk?"
Shadwell lowered his rifle. He looked undecided. Madame Tracy came over and took his arm, making a choice.
All four passengers got in the back seat at once.
Newt was shocked to see that the inside of the car was not burned. It wasn't even smoking. The leather was still on the seats, the wood paneling still on the doors. Newt closed the door, shutting the flames on the outside.
Shadwell was making odd noises of astonishment, while Madame Tracy seemed to be handling the whole thing the best out of the four of them. 15
She said, "What lovely carpeting. Is it original, love?"
"Every inch of it," Caudery said, putting the car in gear.
"What manner o' necromancy be this?" Shadwell gasped out.
"Prayer, sergeant," Caudery replied. "Prayer and the power of imagination."
Newt and Anathema and Shadwell and Madame Tracy were thrown back in the seat as Caudery peeled out of the drive.
Newt could see the speedometer from his spot by the door and watched the arrow jump up it. He caught a glimpse of Caudery's face in the rear-view mirror. The man's sharp teeth were clenched and his sunglasses had dropped down his nose, revealing his intense orange eyes.
The frame of the car around them was rattling and groaning. Newt deduced it must be scarcely staying in one piece; held together by sheer willpower. 16
In front of Newt, Mr. Fell sat rigid, his hands grasping the leather seat under him. His voice was low in a steady rhythmic chant as they went.
"Eh- excuse me," Shadwell reached forward, tapping Caudery on the shoulder.
"Shut up, Shadwell," Caudery hissed.
"Eh-?"
Caudery turned around, giving Shadwell such an intense stare that the man was instantly quiet and submissive, and very red in the face.
"If Aziraphale breaks his concentration, the Bentley is done for and so are we," Caudery explained.
Aziraphale?!… Newt and Anathema mouthed at each other.
Caudery wasn't finished. "So you need to keep your mouths shut. Do you all understand?"
Four heads nodded in response.
"Good. Miss, Device, the airfield."
Anathema leaned over and told Caudery what she knew in a low whisper. When Caudery redirected his focus back to driving, Anathema turned to Newt.
"Are his eyes really orange?" she asked.
"As far as I can tell," Newt whispered back.
"Okay." Anathema pulled her coat more closely and curled her fingers over Newt's hand.
The Bentley roared down the road, music continuing to blare even though there were no speakers to be seen anywhere. Anathema and Newt held onto each other. Madame Tracy and the sergeant did the same. Shadwell was muttering something under his breath which might have been a prayer.17
Caudery's eyes were on the road, his hands joined to the wheel like superglue on skin. He was singing along with the music coming from the stereo.
Before the speed of the Bentley made Newt feel ill, the car suddenly turned sharply to the right. Through the flames, Newt could just see a road leading into a field. In the center of the field was a tall fence topped with barbed wire. A serious sign out front which talked about deadly force possibly being implied indicated it was the airbase. The red glow was hovering directly over the airbase.
The flaming car shot over the road. The fence grew closer, the gate blocking their path was shut and they were approaching it very rapidly. Newt shut his eyes just before impact.
There was a crunch and grind of metal, then the Bentley moaned like a dying horse, something clanked and fell off, which was possibly the bumper or the brake lights, and the car quickly lept forward again.
Newt opened his eyes. The gate had been cleared. They were inside the airbase.
An exclamation came from Fell.
Caudery's attention was immediately directed to Fell. "Angel, what is it?"
"I can't…" came a gasp.
Caudery threw the car into park and pulled the handbrake. "Everyone get out! Out!"
The doors flew open.
Newt grabbed Anathema.
Shadwell grabbed Madame Tracy.
They all stumbled from the car onto the pavement.
Shadwell had Madame Tracy and the thunder gun in tow.
Fell was barely of the car before he dropped to his hands and knees. Caudery was instantly at his side, his hands on Fell's shoulders.
"Let it go, Fell," he pleaded.
"But… the Bentley," Fell's voice was barely above a weak croak.
"Just let it go. Please, let it go."
Fell's hands balled into fists on the pavement. His body seemed to be in protest. He bowed his head and uttered a choked scream.
The Bentley collapsed.
The roof buckled, the tyres hit the ground as the rubber melted and then the entire thing exploded into a gigantic fire ball.
Caudery pulled Fell to his feet, away from the car. Fell's face was drained of all colour. His eyes were no longer glowing and back to their normal blue. He struggled to stand upright, as if he had lost all energy. He looked to what had been a car just moments earlier.
"I am so sorry," he said.
Caudery dropped his hands from Fell's jacket. He approached the smouldering mess. The Bentley's motor mascot rolled across the pavement and came to a stop at Caudery's feet, the streamlined silver B with wings now black and dull. Caudery reached down and picked up a long crowbar where it lay smoking.
"You were a good car," he said to the burning metal heap. "Farewell."
He saluted with the crowbar and turned his back to the Bentley's remains. Though no one could see his eyes, the firm line of his mouth was enough to convey his emotions.
"Let's go find the kid," he said.
Notes:
-All scripture comes from the NKJV and the NIV translations.
-Credit for Make a Move belongs to Royal Tailor, Tony Wood, Chuck Butler, Tauren Wells, Blake Hubbard.
-Credit for We Will Rock You belongs to Queen and Brian May.
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watch?v=TXGbhniTBrU
1 Newton Pulsifer was still fairly convinced this was a dream, but he didn't mind. He would dream for as long as he could. He just didn't want anyone to wake him up.
2 According to the seventh addition of the Webster New Collegiate Dictionary, "anathema" can also mean "a ban or curse solemnly pronounced by by ecclesiastical authority and accompanied by excommunication," "the denunciation of anything as accursed," or "one that is intensely disliked or loathed." So far, Anathema had fortunately never been any of these things.
3 Black toast, completely burn on both sides with no resemblance to the bread it used to be. No amount of butter will save this kind of toast. It is charred beyond all hope.
4 The demon had an idea and he wasn't going to tell Fell what it was, as the angel would hate it. Caudery was going to drive the Bentley into the fire.
5 That the imagination is powerful, is something which is universally excepted. It is not so widely known that imagination can do far more than just imagine. The universe was made by a creative God and he made the imagination. In a human it can accomplish many things. In the hands of an immortal being, much more.
6 Caudery is reciting from the book of Isaiah, chapter 43, verses 1a through verse 2.
7 Psalm 23, written by king David.
8 He is only limited by us, when we put Him in a little box and forget that He is God and we are not.
9 As much as anyone couldn't notice a small canine who was leaving wet paw prints across the linoleum and smelled strongly of rotten vegetable marrows.
10 It was a soft whisper, not a trumpet blast or gong. The warning had been whispered from of old; the voice of Him whom the people no longer knew how to recognize. There were too many voices already in their heads and too many in the world. Even when He shouted like thunder they still didn't hear.
11 And in a way, it did. The only power left to Caudery was his voice. He was going to use it until he could no longer utter a sound.
12 The rest of his thought was "That sounds like Queen."
13 Caudery was following a scent, the scent of the Antichrist. He knew what every person he encountered smelled like and he never forgot a smell. A snake's sharpest sensory faculty is their sense of smell.
14 The angel was used all the power he had on reserve. He had even shut down some of his bodily systems to divert all energy into keeping the Bentley functioning. His human body was fighting it.
15 Her brain had sort of gone into a mode of self-preservation. She was just accepting everything that was going on and would probably collapse later on a sofa and mutter things about hallucinations.
16 Which it was- only just.
17 If it was a prayer, it was the first communication with Heaven the witchfinder had ever initiated in his life.