“Are you still going to blow him up?” I say, curiously.
“I’m not spoiling the surprise,” he replies. “But I have been considering beating him to death with his own foot.”
“I like that,” Mr Angelcakes says, “it’s subtle,” and a piece of his face falls off onto the floor.
“He’s too old for you!” says Loveheart, impaling a wind-fallen apple on the point of his sword and examining it.
“He’s a magician and he will turn you into a butterfly again.”
“I shall have to decapitate him then, my darling,” and bows very low.
“I do hope so, Mr Loveheart,” and I shut the window.
The carriage arrives for me in the courtyard. Two black horses, as the Professor had specified, with red feathers in their manes. Mr Angelcakes keeps me company. He is looking forward to today. Grinning to himself, the skin round his lips drooping like melted wax.
“You look good enough to eat,” he says fiendishly.
The carriage moves shakily along the woodland path, juddering softly like jelly on a plate. A small note for me rests on the seat of the carriage:
My Darling Boo Boo,
My prize possession, my Angel-Eater, is staying with a friend in London. She is in safe hands. I felt it best to move her since Detective Waxford’s campaign to destroy my reputation. You will serve as a sufficient amusement for me until I am reunited with her.
Your devoted,
Gabriel
“Oh dear, Mr Angelcakes, you won’t be getting your butterfly just yet.”
The carriage pulls up to the church, which is decorated with heaps of flame-red roses, even on the tombstones. A massacre of flowers. Outside the church, Ignatius Hummingbird awaits me. He will be escorting me down the aisle.
The doors to the church open, revealing row upon row of more blood flowers. The vicar, Mr Wormhole, stands with the Professor near the altar. I can see my brother, Pedrock, sitting with Mrs Charm and Mr Loveheart. Behind them, Grandpa, Aunt Grubweed with Prunella, Estelle and Cornelius, and Reverend Plum smiling nervously. Next to the door is Detective Waxford and standing in the very corner of the church, a man I have never seen before, with an eye-patch and black top hat.
“Who is that man?” I ask Ignatius as we walk down the aisle.
“Mr Cobweb. He is a friend of ours.”
Detective Waxford with a face like a grumpy gargoyle approaches us. “Mr Ignatius Hummingbird. I am arresting you for abduction and attempted murder.”
“Oh, Detective Waxford, you’re making a very stupid mistake.”
Waxford takes out his handcuffs, “Either you come willingly or I shoot you,” and he withdraws his gun and aims it at Ignatius’s head.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Waxford pulls the trigger. Pieces of brain splatter my face. Ignatius falls to the floor in a heap. Prunella screams. Mr Loveheart stands up and wanders casually next to the detective, his sword in one hand.
The walls of the church start to compress. Pillars wobble. The Professor, bright red in the face, as though he is about to burst screams; “You can’t kill my brother, NO NO NO,” and stomps his feet, “You can’t have my butterfly, NO NO NO.”
Mr Cobweb shuts the church doors and stands by them like a guard dog from hell, removing a long thin blade.
“This is becoming quite interesting,” says Mr Loveheart.
The guests are starting to run for the door: the vicar, Mr Wormhole, nimblest on his feet, manages to squeeze himself out of the side window. Cornelius runs to the door and is hacked down by Mr Cobweb, limbs flying over Waxford’s head. Waxford shoots Mr Cobweb in the stomach, but Cobweb remains unhurt and stabs Reverend Plum in the throat.
“What?” cries Waxford staring at his gun.
Mr Loveheart throws his sword at Professor Hummingbird, pinning him to the back wall like one of his specimens. I pull the butterfly blades from my boots and approach my fiancé.
Mr Cobweb has Prunella by the leg. He hacks it off and then starts chopping up Estelle. Mrs Charm, following the Vicar, is pushing Pedrock through the side window.
I approach my fiancé.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Waxford’s gun goes off again, no doubt still shooting at Mr Cobweb. A foot flies past Waxford’s head and bounces off the pulpit. Waxford is shouting, “This bloody village! I’m retiring after this case!”
The Professor is trying to pull the sword out of his heart.
“My darling butterfly.”
“Where is the Angel-Eater?” I say, my blade resting against his throat.
“Somewhere you will not find it, sweetheart,” and he starts to laugh. I see Mrs Charm’s legs going through the window to her safety.
BANG!
Mr Loveheart shoots Mr Cobweb in the brain.
Mr Cobweb grabs Grandpa and cuts his head off. Aunt Grubweed stands up, picking up a small angel statue, and hits Mr Cobweb over the head with it. He staggers about and then slices the top of her head off with his blade. He jumps out of the window, Waxford shooting at him.
I look again at the Professor. “Last chance.”