The Gates (Samuel Johnson vs. the Devil #1)(44)

“And what’ll we tell them?”

“That the church is under siege from gargoyles,” said the vicar, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right,” said the verger. “That’ll work.”

But before he could say anything else he was distracted by another sound, as of one stone rubbing against another, coming from the little room, to the right of the main altar, used mainly to store old candlesticks, spare chairs, and the verger’s broken bicycle. The room was kept unlocked, since there was little in it that anyone would be bothered to steal. The floor was made entirely of stone, but one of the slabs had a name on it, and it was this slab that was now moving up and down, as though something was pushing at it from beneath.

After almost seven hundred years, Bishop Bernard the Bad had woken up.





XXII

In Which the Forces of Law and Order Take an Interest in Nurd

NURD WAS ALTERNATING BETWEEN jubilation and absolute terror. He had discovered a crucial detail about fast cars: they can go fast. When he touched a foot to the accelerator the Porsche shot off like a speeding bullet, and Nurd’s braking technique, like his driving, left a lot to be desired. The first time Nurd hit the brake, he bashed his face against the windshield since he had neglected to fasten his seat belt. Now his already injured nose had swollen painfully, and there was blood on his hands where he had tried to wipe it. He had thus confirmed an interesting, if alarming, fact about this world: while he was an immortal being, theoretically incapable of being killed, he could experience pain here. Pain and, if he wasn’t careful, something a bit like death, except without the nice long rest afterward. Still, he was having the time of his very long life, and the Wasteland and Wormwood seemed to belong to another, far-off era.

Not for the first time, a pair of red lights whizzed by on either side of the road. Sometimes, those lights were green, or even amber, but Nurd liked the red ones best. They reminded him of the fires of Hell, fires that he might never have to see again if he could terrify this world, or even a little part of it, into submission. But before that there was more driving to be done.

A pair of flashing blue lights appeared in Nurd’s rearview mirror, accompanied by a howling noise. Despite his speed, they appeared to be drawing closer and closer. Hmmm, thought Nurd, I wonder what they are. Then the blue lights came near enough for him to see that they were stuck on the top of another car. Nurd wondered if the lights came in red. If they did, he might try to find some and stick them on the top of his car as well. They would look splendid.

The car with the flashing blue lights pulled alongside Nurd. It was white, with writing on the side, and wasn’t even half as pretty as Nurd’s car. There were two men in uniform in the car, one of whom was waving at Nurd. Not wishing to seem impolite, even if he was a demon, Nurd waved back. The men in the other car looked quite annoyed at this. Nurd suspected that perhaps he had given them the wrong wave, but he didn’t know enough about the habits of this world to be sure of what might be the correct variety.

The white car pulled ahead of him, and then braked, forcing Nurd to slam his foot down hard on his own brake pedal. If his seat belt hadn’t been fastened this time, Nurd would probably have gone through the windshield. Instead the belt pulled him up short, winding him.

Now Nurd didn’t know a lot about driving, but he could tell that the men in the white car had just performed a distinctly dangerous maneuver, and he had half a mind to tell them what he thought of them and their little blue lights. Then the two men got out of the car and put hats on, and a little warning signal went off in Nurd’s brain. He knew Authority when he saw it. His lips moved as he tried to read the word on the back of the car.

PO-LICE.

One of the police tapped on Nurd’s window while the other walked round the car, holding a notebook and still looking annoyed. Nurd found the button that rolled the window down.

“Evening, sir,” said the man at the window, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant odor emerging from the vicinity of Nurd. Nurd saw that the man had three little stripes on his shoulder. Nurd thought they looked very fetching.

“Hello,” said Nurd. “Are you a police?”

“I prefer policeman, sir,” came the reply. “That’s quite the outfit. Off to a costume party, are we?”

Nurd didn’t know what a costume party was, but the policeman’s tone of voice suggested that “yes” might be a good answer.

“Yes,” said Nurd. “A costume party.”

“Any idea how fast you were going back there, sir?”

Oh, Nurd knew the answer to this one. He could tell from the little red numbers on the dashboard.

“One hundred and twelve miles per hour,” he said proudly. “Very fast.”

“Oh yes, very fast, sir. Too fast, one might say.”

Nurd thought about this. In his current mood, it didn’t seem possible that one could go “too fast.” There was just “slow” and “very fast.”

“No,” said Nurd. “I don’t think so.”

One of the policeman’s eyebrows shot up like a startled crow.

“Can I see your license, please, sir?”

“License?”

“Piece of paper with a photograph of you on it without your Halloween mask, says you can drive a car, although in your case it might have a picture of a rocket ship on it as well.”