into the free......

11:00

I was less than impressed and my body language reflected this enough even for Xanthic to pick it up without asking my mood.

"You don't like it?  Its far better on fuel use, which is better for the planet or whatever it is you're all so concerned about."  He said walking up to the NOT JAGUAR sat inside the garage and laying his hands on the bonnet.  "Don't you think it looks great?"

I did not.

Sat where the beautiful and classic jaguar used to live was now a large metal box on wheels.

"I'm not driving that."  I said sounding like a teenager who didn't want to do.......insert pretty much anything here......."What happened to the Jag?"

"The Jag was a faithful old girl who will be sorely missed but we need to move with the times and..."
I cut Xanthic short, it is not often I can get away this this nor would I try, he is the boss after all and a demon to boot.
"There was a necessary alteration to its aerodynamics which has rendered it inappropriate for future transportation desires."  He smiled but I didn't buy it.  "O.k, I drove the thing into a wall to make a hole so I could escape a mob of zombies who were keen to retain my attention, and as pleasant and as friendly as they were I did have pressing needs to leave."

Xanthic told me of his journey to a London warehouse where he had been asked to investigate a soulless quantity by some of his more private clients.  He had tracked a lone zombie across some of London's more exclusive streets (exclusive in the meaning you really had to be in a great need to even think about entering them as you probably would never leave.)  In need to investigate further He had driven into a walled yard containing sheds, work huts and warehouses.  No business or production (of the normal meaning) continued there and the rot and dilapidation had reached irreversible levels, piles of fallen brickwork and timber lay where they fell decorated with faded spray paint and dried rat droppings.  No fresh graffiti or animal waste was present, Xanthic had checked
  One of the lessons I have been taught in my assistant role in Occult Resolution is look for the last remains of human activity and if things are bad, when did the rats move out? The last signs of abuse from our world upon an area shows when it is universally identified as being too dangerous for hoodies with spray cans to frequent the property either through a sixth sense over self preservation or they had been eaten - usually the rats go first.
  Another lesson learnt the hard way was to always have a secure egress - that means make sure the way you want to run is open and bad guy free.  It turns out Xanthic had been focusing so hard on a issue led solution than on a secondary resourcing and personnel securing plan (he was having too much fun chasing bad guys to think about running away to fight another day).

"But why drive through a wall?  why not back out the way you drove in? I asked still not beliebing anyone would be so cruel to something so beautiful,  it is almost inhuman.

"Believe me I really did not want to Vally." (I hate that nickname, it makes me sound like a hole in the ground but fitting as I'm ususlly stuck between a rock and a hard place.) "I ran out of time to do things appropriately and as I had a premonition someone was trying to take a chunk out of my favourite assistant and  I had to evacuate and ride to the rescue. Unfortunately that ride involved doing 180 on the motorway without a left wing and crabbing so much I thought thought I was going to be over taken by my own rear."
 
The disappointment of not having the Jag to myself fell away like slipping a coat off my shoulders and dropping it to the floor, I couldn't be too upset after hearing that.

The Black box on wheels turned out to be a Zafira, a large car almost of van proportions and a bit boxy, which I pointed out."
  "But."  Said Xanthic after my comment.  "it seats seven people, very useful if we need a car full and the back two rows of seats all fold flat into the floor giving loads of space;  you can get three or four coffins in there if needs be."  He winked at that, but I didn't know if that was to signify a joke or he would actually try and get coffins in there.
 
I looked around the car, it was shiny black with blacked out side and rear windows, a black sun roof and very polished wheel trims.  I expected skulls to be prominent on them (the Jag had a skull gear stick and hub caps) but there instead was a sliver spider sat in the middle of  each wheel, in a very intricate web.
The interior was very modern and it still had that new car smell.  One opened CD case lay cast aside on the passenger seat.  I could see AC/DC on the spine and I would put money on Highway to Hell being the song on the stereo when the car starts.

The address of the Country cottage was programmed into the built it sat-nav and I threw my hastily packed rucksack and bag on top of the CD case.  Xanthic gave me a few tips, turn left past the old oak tree and follow the scent of honeysuckle straight to the front door.  I found this as helpful as old people telling me to go past the old Woolworths that's now something else, left at the old tree they cut down in '72 and stop just before you get to where Roger, God rest him, lived before he died in that hard Winter; but thanked him all the same and then turned the ignition, put the car in gear and drove out of the garage and onto the road.