“We’re sorry, but the number you have dialled is currently unavailable.”

Hannah’s arm went slack, the forgotten phone beeping its symphony. When Azure had arrived with Sam but no Jack, she had panicked; the explanation sounded right, but she still wasn’t convinced.

Normally, Lydia would have responded to Crow’s doubt with a line like, “but isn’t that exactly what you said last time?” rather than the stilted words she had produced.

In telling them about her battle with Malacoda, she had hesitated. Only slightly. But for Hannah, who had spent long enough with her to tell the difference between certain smirks, it was enough to notice.

What hadn’t she said? What stopped her from telling them?

After fourteen missed calls, she was sure it couldn’t be anything good.

It was possible her phone had died, or been destroyed; plenty of things could go wrong in a fight.

But she couldn’t believe that—Lydia was too careful and well-prepared.

Her mind couldn’t dismiss the idea that a kind but misguided sadist with a chip on her shoulder had seen some kind of higher purpose in the end of the world. 

It was plausible.

She didn’t want to believe it, but she knew better than anyone the bitter loneliness hiding beneath Lydia’s façade. She felt it, too.

It had brought them all together.

“Not answering, then?” said Crow, scratching behind his ear.

Licking her teeth, she returned the phone to her pocket. “No.”

The demon sighed, eying his damaged car with disgust. “What do we do, then?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “those two were usually the ones with the plans.”

Sam stepped forward opposite Hannah, creating a loose circle between the four of them. A few cars veered past, screeching and honking and yelling abuse.

“Yeah, you too!” shouted Crow, making a rude gesture at one of them.

Clearing his throat, Sam said, “if she cannot answer, then they may need assistance—Hell cannot be far from beginning Armageddon. I believe she was heading north.”

“Can’t be any worse than waiting here.” Azure unfurled his wings.

Crow mirrored him. “You carry the Paladin. I don’t want that bloody sword anywhere near me.”

“It’s not a bloody sword,” said Sam, “it’s a holy sword.”

Shaking his head, Crow eyed Hannah. “Whatever. You ready?”

She nodded, though it slowed when a bright red pillar shot for the sky in the distance.

Her eyes widened. “Is that fire?”

Inclining his head, Crow swallowed. “It would appear so, yes.”

It lit up the horizon for miles, a blinding display of burning engulfing the skyline. From there, it appeared narrow, but Hannah knew it was large enough to encase an entire district.

Was this it?

The smell of sulphur reached her, and she cringed. Her heart skipped not just a beat, not just a track, but the entire album; the floor rumbled and shook, cracks opening up and spewing gouts of fire and magma onto the street.

She heard screaming metal as streetlights melted and folded, tarmac sizzling under the intense heat.

She yelped. A strong pair of arms had wrapped around her, lifting her into the air.

“Calm down,” said Crow, “I’m not gonna drop you.”

Next to them, Azure flapped his wings, Sam making him seem like a child carrying an oversized teddy bear.

“Where are we supposed to go?” asked Azure, fidgeting.

“Somewhere that isn’t here!” said Crow.

Hannah cast a glance back at the hell-hound still whining in the back seat. “What about Buttons?”

“Well, I rather think he’s about to be in his element,” said Azure. “Natural habitat, and all that.”

Pursing his lips, Crow nodded. “I hear New Zealand is nice this time of year.”

Her chest clenched. “My mum! We have to go and get her.”

“Are you insane?” said Crow with a bemused expression. “There is absolutely no way—”

Azure made a face in response. “Oh, balderdash.”

“Did you seriously just use the word ‘balderdash’?”

“It’s making a comeback.”

Sam folded his arms. “I believe we should save her mother. Being an obvious moral choice, it doesn’t surprise me that the demon is against it.”

With a mocking chuckle, Crow nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been waiting for that one. Any others you’d like to share with the group?”

“We should, of course, provide sanctuary to as many people as we can, as Noah did.”

“Noah did the animals. Left all the people to drown.”

Sam faltered. “Really? Still.”

“Easy to say when we don’t even have a sanctuary.”

“We can work on that later,” said Azure, smiling. “For now, you’re outnumbered.”

Crow threw his head back. “Fine! Hannah, where are we going?”

The flight passed without incident, and they found themselves on the doorstep of a small terraced house.

Her front yard was a pool of molten rock.

Shoving the door open, Hannah burst inside; it was normal, and smelled comforting. It was sweltering, the hum of the boiler entering her ears.

They were in the living room, a small square decorated in blues and purples, with an ancient sofa in the centre facing a television against the window. The wall next to them had a shelf, on which books were stacked high.

Azure brightened. “My word, what a collection!”

On the sofa, her brow furrowed and mouth open, Andrea McAllister stared at the angel perusing her selection of literature.

“I see you’ve made some new friends,” she said, eying up the rest of the group.

Stepping forward, Sam bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms…?”

Andrea squinted. “McAllister. And you are?”

“Sam Bluett-Duncan, Paladin of the Church of England, at your service.”

She smirked. “A Paladin? Usually you only hear about them in stories.”

“Yeah, alright,” said Crow, peeking through the net curtains, “that’s enough flirting; we haven’t got time for this.”

“He’s right,” said Hannah, clutching her mum’s arm. “We need to go before the house gets swallowed up.”

“Wait!” yelled Azure, pulling a tome with a blue cover from the pile with eyes agape. “Crow, come and see! We’ve finally found it.”

Grimacing, Crow strode over. “What are you so excited about?”

His own eyes widened to saucers, and he stammered.

Wondering what the fuss was, Hannah went and took a peek at the golden lettering on the cover:

The Mean and Inaccurate Prophecies of Agatha Fruiter.

***

His eyes flickered open, harsh white light stabbing at his retinas. Groaning, he looked around; he was in a steel cube, laying upon a hard mattress on a cot. The room had a sofa opposite a screen, two doors on the wall at his head, and a ladder on the wall opposite.

Next to the ladder was a counter with a sink, a microwave, and a kettle.

A figure sat on the sofa, watching over him with a strained expression. “You’re awake?”

“Lizzie,” he said, words scratching his parched throat. “What happened?”

Grabbing a glass of water from the table in front of her, she stepped over and tipped it in his mouth. He swallowed gratefully.

“Found ye in a field,” she said, replacing the glass and kneeling next to him. “Your turn.”

He shut his eyes tight, hoping he’d open them and this would all be a nightmare.

No such luck.

“Lydia happened,” he said. “Where are we?”

She stroked his hand. “My panic shelter. What did she dae?”

Of course Lizzie had a panic shelter. “Threw me into a tree and ran off to start Armageddon.” He threw the covers aside, grunting as he sat up. “Which I still need to stop.”

Placing her hands on his chest, she frowned. “Ye can’t; no’ anymore.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why, what’s it like out there? How long have I been out?”

“Three days.”

Licking his teeth, he fought against a wave of helplessness. “What’s happening outside?”

She chewed her lip. “Half the groond’s molten, there’s demons everywhere, and four dicks on horses are running roond trying to take the Hell tour worldwide.”

“How far have they gotten?”

“Birmingham.”

“Not much difference, then; there’s still time. Us two against Satan and Lydia, how hard can it be?” He could still save her from herself. Scouting around, he saw his sword leaning against the far end of the couch.

With an aggravated sigh, Lizzie shoved him down. “What can you do? She already put ye doon once, and noo she has the actual devil on her side. You cannae win, Jack. “

Rising again, he scorched her with his stare. “I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“Because she wasn’t tryin’ to kill ye!”

He was still fully clothed. Standing, he swallowed before letting his real face show; his mouth trembled and his eyes watered, but not for the thudding in his head. His heart was being twisted and torn, and he’d been powerless. He couldn’t reach her.

“Lizzie,” he said, walking over to the couch. “I spent so long on my own, in the dark, no purpose or direction. I still don’t have either.”

His life since the slaughter of his family had felt empty until he’d actually bothered to look up. Hannah. Lydia. Lizzie.

Even Sam and Russ, perpetually annoying, had wormed their way in.

“But before I realised, there was a light in front of me; I couldn’t help but run after it. Thing is, every step I take seems to put it further away. But I won’t stop. Even if it takes me to the bowels of hell, I’ll never stop chasing it.”

Groaning, Lizzie rubbed her forehead. “Then let’s go.” She strode over to the ladder, placing her hands upon it. “You and me against the world, like the Sidhe Wars all over again.”

He shuddered, grabbing his sword and following her. “That world really didn’t like us.”

She opened a hatch, and they emerged into a hellscape. Lizzie’s back garden was halfway gone, cracked paths running through to the house.

Which was crumbling.

The ground shook, and an unearthly roar shook his bones.

“What was that?” he said, like he’d breathed in helium.

“Oh yeah,” said Lizzie, “we’ve got Kaijūs as well.”

His chin fell. “Kaijūs? We just dealt with one of them last arc!”

She shrugged. “They showed up on the second day.”

Another roar sounded, twisted and monstrous; though if he listened intently, it sounded sort of like ‘free Palestine’.

“‘Course, most of ‘em are self-hating Kaijūs,” she said. “Let’s go.” She hopped along the path, expertly making her way to the gate leading to the front yard. Following her, his stomach almost fell out when he wobbled, but he made it.

They went through the gate and played more high-stakes ‘the floor is lava’.

In this case, it actually was. The heat rose and blistered his skin, sweat pouring down his back—his head was spinning.

She led him to a blue Toyota Hilux, glossy paint muddied by falling ash. They got in, and the smell of brimstone ceased assaulting him, replaced by pine forest.

“Where was this car for Lord Lost?” said Jack, not bothering with his seatbelt.

Clipping hers in, Lizzie started the engine. “In the shop.” They pulled out of the driveway, slaloming to avoid missing pieces of road. Despite the cocktail shaker treatment, she found a rhythm, and they sailed on.

Until they spotted a mounted humanoid careening towards them at twice their speed. He wore a black cloak shifting impossibly.

Jack goggled. “Uh, Lizzie…”

She said nothing, and didn’t slow down.

The shadowy figure thumped into the bonnet, rolling over the truck as his emaciated horse watched with hateful eyes.

Jack gawked. "Did you just run over one of the Four Horsemen?"

She nodded. “You know, I think I did.”

The rest of their drive was silent, agonising over potential scenarios as they both scanned the ruined landscape.

It was short, but it felt like forever. Lizzie hit the brakes as they came up to a massive fenced area, rides and coasters jutting from inside towards the heavens. A row of buildings sat in front of it, but they approached a gate barred by thick railings.

And there she was.

Shutting off the engine, Lizzie exited the car and glowered at her.

Jack did the same, stepping forward and drawing his sword. 

“Hello again, Jack,” said Lydia.