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After the failed execution, Hastur walked Michael and Crowley back to the lifts. The trio proceeded down the corridor in near-silence, with Crowley in the lead and his captors following behind, forming a triangle of mutual distrust and repulsion. Michael was once again carrying the jug of Holy Water that had been lent to Hell for the occasion, and Hastur was keeping a wary eye on both it and the prisoner.
The rogue demon, or whatever he was now, swaggered down the corridor like he owned the place. If he'd asked for it he possibly would. His very public and inexplicably successful act of defiance had left the assembled hordes of Hell on the brink of an outright revolt; quelling it would require a swift and brutal response even by Hell’s standards. This was of course Hastur’s speciality and favourite pastime, but before he could get started he had orders to get the traitor, the enemy and the Holy Water out of Hell quickly and discreetly before they could make the situation any worse. It was important, urgent, and immensely frustrating.
Hastur was simmering quietly, a heady mixture of terror and outrage that was fermenting well and promised to result in at least a three-Eric discorporation spree later. For the time being though, there was nothing in range that he could get away with attacking. He glared at the back of Crowley's jacket but kept his distance.
Walking beside him, leaving as much distance between them as the corridor allowed, Michael was expressionless and deep in thought. The mild loss of composure she had displayed on her return to the trial was completely gone and she was now watching Crowley thoughtfully, perhaps trying to solve the puzzle of his continued existence. She strode through Hell with the confidence of one who knows that they are untouchable even when hopelessly outnumbered. Not even Michael could hope to prevail over the legions of the damned in their entirety, should they decide to break the truce, but she would put a sizeable dent in their number and everyone knew it. Nobody would be foolish enough to be at the front of the queue.
When they were almost at the lift, Crowley actually started humming, something quiet and jolly that Hastur didn’t recognise from his own brief trips to Earth. He had never heard such a sound in Hell before and he hoped he never would again – the offensive cheerfulness grated on his nerves, and not in a Bad way. He was sorely tempted to aim a blast of Hellfire at the traitor’s back, but Hellfire wouldn’t harm a demon, and he’d been ordered to leave him alone. Besides, who knew what a demon immune to Holy Water could do when angered?
He was still considering it anyway when the lift came into view, already waiting from Michael’s trip down. Crowley sauntered in and spun round elegantly, hitting the button as he went. He smiled and raised a hand for a dainty wave. “Ciao,” he said cheerfully as the doors closed.
After a moment of tense silence, Michael stepped forward smartly and tapped the lift call button, ensuring it would return after depositing the impervious traitor on the world where he apparently now belonged. She stepped back again to wait.
Hastur’s orders were to remain with the archangel until she was safely out of Hell and no longer an immediate threat. The sooner the lift returned, the sooner he could get on with the important business of threatening, bullying and occasionally murdering the witnesses to the trial until nobody believed (or at least, nobody would admit to believing) that anything of interest had occurred. That process would be more difficult than it could have been, had he been permitted to keep some of the Holy Water, but it still promised to be a lot of fun. This assignment, on the other hand, was tedious.
They both stood waiting for the lift, Michael serene and motionless, Hastur fidgeting. Several long minutes passed, then Michael broke the silence.
“I was sorry to hear about Ligur,” she said neutrally, without looking at him. “He was a very capable agent and a pleasure to work with.”
Hastur’s already strained temper flared up; he fought not to show it. He would never admit to mourning anyone or anything, not even to himself, but Ligur had been as close a friend as a demon ever got, and his absence stung like a severed limb. The few short hours since that doomed mission had been too busy to allow for much reflection, but Hastur felt unbalanced and wounded in a way that he knew would never go away. Meanwhile, a despised enemy stood nearby holding the means of Ligur’s destruction and dared to talk about him as if she actually regretted his loss.
“He was,” Hastur replied slowly and deliberately, also without looking. “Crowley will get away with his murder because your Holy Water didn’t work.”
Michael blinked slowly, the only outward sign of irritation, and continued looking straight ahead. “Our Holy Water worked perfectly, as I gather you so capably demonstrated,” she said politely. “We will of course investigate the reason for Crowley’s immunity, as I’m sure will you, but the fault does not lie in the method.”
The return to diplomatic tones did not improve matters. “You had better,” Hastur snapped. “We supplied our side of the bargain and you have yet to keep yours.”
“Our side of the bargain was to supply the means,” Michael replied, a hint of sharpness invading the politeness. “In exchange for Hell’s assistance with our own little problem. Carrying out Crowley’s punishment was your responsibility.” She turned to look at him, without turning her body, regarding him with a slightly haughty air. “That Hell could not handle an unexpected impediment to the punishment of one of their own is no business of Heaven’s.”
She turned away again. Hastur continued to fume. “As I recall,” he spat, “you also agreed to leave him alone.”
Michael turned back to him again. “What reason do we have to do otherwise? He is no concern of ours.” She spoke as if agreeing had been merely the obvious course of action, not a spur of the moment response justified after the fact. Heaven liked to act as if everything was going according to plan, regardless of how far from the truth that obviously was. Normally, it was both laughable and irritating. Today, it was infuriating.
“He could be a concern of yours,” Hastur pointed out. “We don’t know what he’s capable of now and neither do you.”
“He is indeed unprecedented,” Michael said, with infuriating serenity. “Caution would be advisable until we know more about the threat he may pose. Your late associate would understand that.”
Hastur spun round angrily, putting himself between Michael and the lifts. Michael looked entirely unperturbed. “My late associate deserves to be avenged!”
“I am open to suggestions,” Michael said with a snide calmness that riled Hastur still further. “Until we understand what Crowley has become, there is little we can do but wait. I’m sure the door is open for further cooperation in future, to achieve a common objective such as this.”
Behind Hastur, the lift door opened. He didn’t move.
Michael took one step towards Hastur, stopping just close enough to be threatening, and fixed him with an icy stare. “Provided, of course, nothing occurs to make such cooperation undesirable. I trust you understand?”
“You will not take that tone with me!” Hastur barked.
Michael’s stare intensified, cold and deep and promising terrible power. The Holy Water in her hands glowed more brightly, highlighting her features and drawing Hastur’s attention back to its presence; the realisation carved straight through his anger and pride until it hit his survival instincts. No matter how angry he might get, he must not start a fight with Michael. He almost certainly could not win, and even if he somehow did defeat her, it would not end well for him.
Backing down hurriedly, he stepped out of Michael’s way, still glaring. The archangel gave a curt nod, satisfied that the point had been made, and the glow from her deadly burden faded again.
“On this occasion, we are allies,” Michael said in an even tone, pleasant but with iron behind it. “That arrangement is temporary. The next time we meet, I’ll be your enemy. Remember that.”
She stepped into the lift without looking back, and the doors closed behind her. Hastur glowered at them for a few moments, then turned and stormed off. He was having a very bad day, and it was finally time to share it.