Standing Outside the Fire

44

INT. WAREHOUSE/FACTORY – DAY

Screams came from behind a closed door. Crowley was torturing Samandriel with an angel-killing knife.

"What do you want?!" Samandriel asked. "I've given you all the names."

"No," Crowley said. "No. No. And no. That's not what I want to hear." He cut Samandriel again and Samandriel screamed. "This hurts you more than it hurts me, so I can go on forever. Which, in your case, forever means... well, forever."

"When the angels find out what you're doing..."

"They'll be what – put out? I'm quaking, really. The power grid is so whacked out in Heaven, they don't even know you're not there. So, on the count of thee... one, two..." He plunged the knife into Samandriel, who screamed.

"What happened to three?"

"I lied. I do that. Just give me the other names."

"There are no other names! The next generation isn't born yet."

"Truth?"

"Truth."

"Well, I suppose there's no reason to keep torturing you, then." He plunged the knife into Samandriel again. "Sorry. Once you get going, it's really hard to stop."

Crowley put down the knife and took off the apron he was wearing and spoke to a demon standing next to the door. "Keep him on ice. We've only just scratched the surface with this one."

---

Aaron, the boy who was finger-painting in the playground, ran away as Crowley entered the room.

"I hope the ruckus down the hall wasn't too off-putting," Crowley said as he walked to an octagonal table, around which six people were sitting, and set a stone tablet on the table. "Construction standards aren't what they were during the Inquisition." The six people were silent. "I see. No niceties. All right, then. I suppose you're wondering why I convened this motley group."

ABANDONED BAR

Kevin entered and water poured down on him from above, breaking a salt line. "Mom! You've got to stop drowning me in holy water every time I go out!"

Mrs. Tran stood up from behind the bar, holding a cord and Kevin fixed the salt line as he cried, "I'm not possessed!"

"Not yet," Mrs. Tran replied. "Not now. They got to me, remember?"

"We've got hex bags that make us invisible to demons. We've got demon traps painted everywhere! I've got a sigil tattooed on my arm! If we keep moving, we'll be fine!" He placed a plastic bag down on the counter.

"What, and keep living in rat-infested hovels and running from cursed creatures? This is no life!"

"It's my life. I'm the one dragging the prophet load. I'm sorry I pulled you into it."

"Don't be sorry. Be ready. We've got to stop running and start taking a stand." She unpacked food from the plastic bag.

"Okay, you know that's crazy."

"No, it's not! Not if we have the bomb you used on Crowley's demons."

"The stuff I made had ingredients from all over the world. All right? Demons had to get the stuff."

"That's why I went to an expert."

Kevin frowned. "What? Who?"

"I hired a witch," Mrs. Tran replied.

"A witch?"

"Off of Craigslist. Her name is Delta Mendota, and she is a smart cookie. She's scrappy, reliable, and she's willing to kill. Look, I'm your mother, and I did this for you."