"Sounds like a winner, that one," Crowley says. "She could use them to help us, help herself, but instead she uses them to kill. How helpful of her." How human.

He looks out over the town. It's so dark here. Always so dark, so small. He's spent so long in London, living among the lights of the city, among its ever-buzzing energy. The slowness of this place drives him absolutely mad.

"Does she expect us to trust her? To like her? Does she think she's going to make us with her little army of murderers?"