John Connolly - The Creeps - A Samuel Johnson Tale

The Great Malevolence had also lost its lieutenant, the demon Ba’al. It was Ba’al who had led the invasion of Earth, occupying the body of a woman named Mrs. Abernathy and then, for reasons unclear, deciding that being a woman was altogether nicer than being a demon. When the invasion failed, the Great Malevolence chose to blame Mrs. Abernathy, and she was banished from its presence. When she had tried to get back in its good graces by opening another portal to Earth, Samuel Johnson had intervened again, and that was when all of the atoms in Mrs. Abernathy’s body had been separated from their neighbors and scattered throughout the Multiverse.

The Great Malevolence was a being filled with self-pity. It now regretted banishing Mrs. Abernathy, not because of any hurt that it might have caused her, but because she had been useful and loyal, and the Great Malevolence’s strength was reduced without her. 24This was why it had ordered the creature named Crudford to find all of the pieces of her and bring them back to Hell so that she might be reassembled. Crudford wasn’t much to look at, but like many creatures that appear humble and insignificant, Crudford had turned out to be far more important and gifted that he had first appeared.

Now Crudford oozed into the Great Malevolence’s presence and added the eyeball in the jar to the other body parts that were currently lined up on a stone platform in the throne room. Crudford had been summoned to the Great Malevolence’s presence to detail his progress in tracking down the billions of atoms of Mrs. Abernathy’s being. Crudford was feeling nervous about this. He thought he’d done well in finding as many bits as he had so far. It was no easy business oozing between universes looking for tiny blue atoms. You needed a steady hand, and a good eye, and a lot of luck. On the other hand, the Great Malevolence wasn’t very keen on listening to excuses, and it had a habit of tossing those who displeased it into bottomless pits, or leaving them to freeze in the great Lake of Cocytus.

“Afternoon, Your Virulence,” said Crudford, lifting his hat in greeting. “Nice day out there. Not too chilly.”

The Great Malevolence’s voice boomed through the chamber. It made dust and pebbles and the occasional napping demon fall from the walls. Its voice really had a rumble to it.

“Show me what you have found,” it said.

It towered above Crudford, and the little gelatinous being felt himself grow cold in the Great Malevolence’s shadow.

“Well,” said Crudford, “we’ve made some progress, Your Unpleasantness.”

He began to move down the line of jars, pointing a gloopy finger at each one in turn.

“This here’s an eye, as you can see—and, I suppose, as it can see, too, ho ho. This one’s half a pancreas. That looks like a bit of an ear. That one—”

Crudford paused and squinted. He tapped the jar, as if hoping that the atoms might rearrange themselves and give him a clue. They didn’t.

“To be honest, I’m not sure what that is, so we’ll just leave it for now and ooze along,” he said. “That’s a finger. This is three-quarters of a lung. In there we have part of a lip, and most of a lower jaw. This one here—actually, you don’t even want to know what that is. Seriously, you don’t. Over here we have . . .”

This went on for some time. When Crudford was finished, the Great Malevolence didn’t exactly seem pleased, but the fact that Crudford was still in one piece meant that the Great Malevolence wasn’t displeased either.

“How much longer before you find the rest of her?” it asked. “I want my lieutenant restored to me.”

“Hard to say,” said Crudford.

“It will be harder to say if I freeze you, or feed you to the imps,” said the Great Malevolence.

“Good point,” said Crudford. “I’ll work doubly fast.”

Crudford was about to say something more, but decided against it. The Great Malevolence made a few more threats, and warned of the harm that would come to Crudford if he didn’t find the rest of Mrs. Abernathy soon. Crudford wasn’t offended. The Great Malevolence was just letting off steam. Anyway, Crudford was the only one who could find Mrs. Abernathy’s atoms. The Great Malevolence couldn’t do him any harm: if it did, then it would never get its lieutenant back.

But the search was harder than Crudford had anticipated, and each time he found some of Mrs. Abernathy’s atoms he detected hatred in them. It was almost as if Mrs. Abernathy didn’t want to be found. That was what he had almost told the Great Malevolence before good sense made him stay silent. The Great Malevolence didn’t need to hear that, just as it didn’t want to hear about the beating, somewhere in the Multiverse, of what Crudford was certain was Mrs. Abernathy’s heart.

Because Mrs. Abernathy wasn’t supposed to have a heart.

23. In the first chapter of The Infernals, Edgefast was torn limb from limb for daring to question the right of Mrs. Abernathy to enter the Mountain of Despair. Once again, if you’d read that book then you’d know all of this already. Look, why don’t we just arrange for me to give you a telephone call and I can read the book to you, or perhaps I can act it out in your back garden for you and your friends? Or maybe, just maybe, you could go and read The Infernals, and maybe The Gates as well, and then when I mention a name like Edgefast you’ll be able to say, “Aha, that’s the bloke who got torn apart by Mrs. Abernathy in the last book!” and be very pleased with yourself, instead of forcing me to pause in the important task of telling the new story just so you don’t feel left out. You’ve just kept everyone else waiting, you know. I hope you’re happy. And I bet you didn’t even buy this book: you probably received it as a gift, or stole it. Frankly, I don’t know why I bother.

24. This is the curse of kings. While you or I might get annoyed with our friends on occasion, we tend not to order their execution simply because they’ve trodden on our toes or, if we do, people ignore us, which is usually for the best. The trouble with being a king is that, when you lose your temper with someone and order his head to be lopped off, a chap appears with an ax and promptly does the deed, or someone drops a noose around his neck and—well, you get the picture. Then later, when the king announces that he misses old What’s-His-Name and wonders where on Earth he’s got to because he was always good for a laugh, a courtier has to go through the awkward business of explaining that old What’s-His-Name is unlikely to be cracking jokes anytime in the near, or distant, future owing to his definite deadness. Henry VIII, for example, who was king of England from 1509 to 1547, ended his days surrounded by a great many young people for the simple reason that he’d had most of his old courtiers exiled or executed. Between the years 1532 and 1540 alone, Henry ordered 330 political executions, probably more than any other ruler in British history. If you worked for Henry VIII, then you really didn’t need to worry about putting money into your pension fund as you probably wouldn’t live long enough to spend it.

XI

In Which We Learn Why People Should Just Call Their Children Simple Names Like Jane or John—Especially John, Which Is a Very Good Name. Manly. Heroic, Even.

THE INTERIOR OF WRECKIT & Sons was still in the process of being redesigned, but Dan and the dwarfs could see that it was going to be pretty spectacular when it was finished. Already some of the displays had been set up: there was a giant teddy bear at least twenty feet high that dominated the cuddly toy section, and a train set that followed a circular track suspended from the ceiling of the second floor. There were dolls piled in corners, and toy soldiers, and cars and trucks and spaceships. There were board games, and a sports section, and books. What there didn’t seem to be, Jolly noticed, were any computer games. Walking into Wreckit & Sons was like stepping back in time.