John Connolly - The Infernals aka Hell's Bells

Samuel and Nurd understood what Wormwood was trying to do, and were grateful to him.

“I don’t think it’s potential, Wormwood,” said Nurd. “They are actively troublesome. They haven’t been potential trouble since before they were born.”

At that moment the dwarfs were happily sharing Shan and Gath’s new variation on Brew 19, helped by some frozen fruit salvaged from Dan’s van. Dan, who was resigned to the fact that his ice-cream business was unlikely to recover in the current circumstances owing to the consumption of all his ice cream and most of his chocolate, had joined in the tasting, and was now a little tipsy. Even Constable Peel had consented to a “small one,” with Sergeant Rowan’s permission, and the sergeant had found some unexpected common ground with Jolly, who had explained to him that the dwarfs’ criminal behavior was all society’s fault. Sergeant Rowan also believed this was true, mainly because society hadn’t found a way to lock them up and throw away the key.

Angry, meanwhile, was demonstrating to Constable Peel the intricacies of pickpocketing, although this was less out of a desire to share hidden knowledge with the policeman than because Constable Peel had caught Angry trying to steal his handcuffs.

“I can’t help it,” Angry was explaining in what might almost have been a sincere manner. “I was just born this way. My mum says she brought me home from the hospital and found a stethoscope and two thermometers in my diaper. I can find a way to steal anything, me. It’s a gift. Sort of.”

“I stole something once,” said Constable Peel suddenly.

Angry, along with Dozy and Mumbles, who had been listening to the conversation, looked taken aback.

“Really?” said Dozy.

Constable Peel nodded slowly. His cheeks burned with shame, and a little Brew 19 that had splashed on his skin had begun to irritate it.

“I was four,” he said. “I was sitting next to Briony Andrews in kindergarten. We always got two cookies at break, and I’d finished mine, but she had one left. So-”

Constable Peel covered his eyes with one hand and choked back a sob. Angry patted him on the back and tried not to laugh.

“Let it out,” he said. “Confession is good for the soul.”

Somehow, Constable Peel found the strength to go on.

“So-”

“I can see where this is going,” said Dozy.

“Ungbit,” said Mumbles.

“Absolutely,” said Dozy. “Briony Andrews is about to be one hundred percent down in the cookie department.”

“So-”

“Very tense, this,” said Angry.

“I stole her cookie!” concluded Constable Peel.

“No!” said Dozy, almost managing to sound surprised.

“Go on with you,” said Angry, not managing to sound surprised at all.

“Hardened criminal, you were,” said Jolly, joining in the fun. “Stealing a little girl’s cookie? That’s low, that is.”

“Devious,” said Dozy.

“Underhanded,” said Angry.

“Sneaky,” said Jolly.

“I know, I know,” said Constable Peel. “And it gets worse: I pretended she’d lost it. I even helped to organize the search party.”

“Oh, the hypocrisy!” said Angry, who actually thought that this did demonstrate a certain criminal cunning on the part of the juvenile Peel. It was almost admirable. He began to wonder if he might not have misjudged the policeman.

Constable Peel uncovered his face, revealing a fanatical gleam in his eye. “But when I went home that day, I vowed that never again would I engage in illegal activities, cookie-based or otherwise. From that day on I was a policeman in spirit, and the law was my mistress. I was Bob Peel, child lawman, and school-yard wrongdoers trembled at my approach.”

There was silence as the dwarfs considered this before Jolly said somberly:

“You must have been an absolute pain in the bum.”

Constable Peel stared at him. His chin trembled. His fists clenched. For a second there was murder in the air.

“You know, I absolutely was,” said Constable Peel, and their laughter was so loud that dust from the cave roof fell in their beer, improving it slightly.

Back at the cave mouth, Wormwood nibbled on a jelly bean as he, Nurd, and Samuel, joined by Sergeant Rowan, assessed their situation.

“The car has taken a beating,” said Wormwood. “And the ice-cream van isn’t going to last much longer. We’re also nearly out of fuel, and it will take time to synthesize some more.”

“Is there any good news?” asked Nurd.

“We still have jelly beans.”

“Will they power our car?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s not really very good news, then, is it?”

“No,” said Wormwood. “Not really. Oh look, the rain’s easing off.” He frowned. “That’s not good news either, is it?”

Nurd rubbed his eyes wearily. “No, it’s not.”

Soon the skies would once again be filled with eager, hostile eyes. Their enemies knew that they were in the area, and when the rain stopped they would begin to close in on them. They had no weapons, and little hope. There were days that just seemed to get harder and harder as they went on. Finding Samuel should have been a bright spot; after all, Nurd had spent so long wishing that he and his friend could be together again. Now that Samuel was here, Nurd just hoped to see him gone. Be careful what you wish for, he supposed: he hadn’t wanted Samuel to be dragged to Hell just so that they could have another conversation. The dwarfs and Constable Peel appeared by his side, and together the little group gazed out as the rainfall grew gentler, and then ceased entirely.

“This is our chance,” Nurd told them all. “It will stay dark and quiet for a while now that the rain has stopped. It’s the way of things here. There’ll be no lightning, and we can make some progress without being seen.”

“And the plan is that we find this woman, or demon, or whatever she is, and make her send us home?” said Angry.

“Or you find her, she tears you apart, and you don’t have to worry about getting home anymore,” said Nurd. “It depends, really.”

“On what?”

“On how fast you can run once she spots you.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” said Jolly. “And we’ve only got little legs. We’re not really built for speed.”

“That’s unfortunate,” said Nurd. “Speed always helps on these occasions.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re much of a runner either,” said Angry. “Big boots, bit of a belly. You’re going to have trouble outrunning this Mrs. Abernathy too, if she’s chasing us.”

“But I don’t have to outrun her,” said Nurd reasonably. “I just have to outrun you…”

PREPARATIONS BEGAN FOR THEIR departure while Samuel watched the clouds swirl. They moved less violently than before, as though worn out by their earlier efforts, the faces less visible now. There was a faint yellow glow to the sky, and although the landscape before him was not beautiful, it was at a kind of peace. The rocky hillside descended to more muddy bogs, across which stretched a stone causeway. As before, a stinking, heavy mist hung over the bogs, and Samuel felt sure that it would hide them from any watchful eyes above as they drove.

He thought about his mother. She would be worried about him. He had lost all track of time since he had arrived in this place, but at least a day and a night had gone by, and perhaps more. Then again, time was different here. He wasn’t even sure that there was time, not really. He supposed that, if eternity stretched before you, then minutes and hours and days would cease to have any meaning. But they had meaning for him: they represented moments spent separated from those whom he loved: from his mother, his friends, even his dad. Nurd was here, though, which was something.