Cowboys and Angels

33. Hell's Angel

An-Nafud Desert, Saudi Arabia

EXT. TENT

The tent was surrounded by torch flames.

INT. TENT

A man in white robes entered the tent, joining three other men who were conversing in Arabic. They sat for a drink, but the tent began to shake as the wind gusted outside.

Crowley arrived and asked in Arabic, "Where is he?"

One of the men gestured the way, pulling back curtain for Crowley to enter. There was another man inside, lying in bed.

"Noel, I came when you asked," Crowley said. "You're looking a trifle peaky." Noel chuckled weakly. "Do you truly have it?"

Noel nodded. "And it's yours... if you hold up your end of the bargain." He got up slowly, sighing with relief at the sight of the contract that Crowley had pulled from his jacket. "I've had a good life... thanks to you. Very few of the world's secrets I haven't cracked. It seemed worth a soul... at the time."

"Oh. It always does."

"Destroy that thing."

"Show me the object first."

Noel nodded to the other man, who opened a wooden box and pulled out an item wrapped in cloth. He showed it to Crowley. "A shofar. The Horn of Joshua, touched by the hand of God." Crowley reached out to take it. "Easy. Easy there."

"It's authentic. I can feel it."

"Now tear that thing up." Crowley broke the contract in half and Noel smiled and sighed with relief. "Thank God. I don't think I have long."

"How very prescient of you."

Crowley twisted his hand and Noel's neck snapped. He was dead. The other man quickly left the room. Crowley picked up the Horn of Joshua and smiled. He pushed the curtain aside and walked into the other room. Four men had guns aimed at him. A man spoke in Arabic. Crowley raised his hands, but did not surrender. As he turned his hands slowly, the men turned to aim their guns at each other, moving against their own control. Crowley dropped his finger and they fired, killing each other. Crowley looked across the room. The four men were bloody and dead.

"Amateurs," Crowley said.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT

Crowley walked along a dark city street. Torrential rain was falling.

He spoken the phone. "Are you not hearing me? I said I have in my possession the solution to our collective problems. You should be doing a jig."

INT. BUNKER

Dean said, "I don't jig. Now, how do I even know you escaped Lucifer and he's not making you say all this?"

"Honestly, your cynicism is depressing. I'm glad Lady's not around to offer more." A siren wailed in the distance as Crowley ducked into an alley, trying to stay out of sight. "Why would Lucifer force me to discuss the very means of his destruction?"

"What are you talking about?"

"A weapon... one that channels divinity." He glimpsed at a truck coming. There were demons aboard carrying angel blades. They were searching for Crowley who sighed and continued. "Yes, powerful enough to help destroy a force like the Darkness," he teleported to the top of a building site as he went on, "or Lucifer. Tell me you haven't been searching for such a thing."

"A Hand of God? Of course we have."

"Thought as much. St. Louis. The old post office on Beekman." He hung up and watched the truck drive by below.