ABE SAPIEN SAW THE shape diving out of the sun, flashed his lights, stepped on the gas, closed the distance between him and Abby, saw her glance in her mirror with her eyes open in recognition, pointed up, shouted even though he knew she could not hear him, and by the time she'd understood his message, the giant bird had landed on her car and lifted it clear of the road.
Abe gave chase, amazed. Abby's cars wheels were still spinning — he looked down at his own speedometer and saw that he was doing more than eighty — yet still the bird moved ahead. It followed the course of the road for a few seconds, and Abe instantly saw why. Drivers terrified at the sight of the thing swerved across lanes, crashing into the sides of buses, spinning from the road, and tumbling a dozen times across fields and into ditches, and he had to use every ounce of concentration to negotiate his way through the accidents happening all around him. Someone broad-sided him, and he fought with the wheel, letting the Jeep swerve across two lanes before halting its drift and bringing it back on course. He dodged past a white van shaking from side to side, ducked in front of a little two-seater sports car, then put his foot down and cleared the jam of traffic. At last free of the accident, he looked up, only to see the huge bird — he thought it was a rukh — turn sharply to the left and head off across the countryside.
Abe steered onto the hard shoulder and slammed on the brakes, leaving a cloud of smoke in the air behind him. He scrambled across the front seats and jumped from the Jeep, staring after the rukh and the car and Abby trapped inside. He had never felt so helpless.
"Now what?" he shouted. "Now what do I do?"
He called Hellboy on his satellite phone, but the ring was not answered. Maybe the big red guy was busy.
Abe jumped back into the Jeep and, lacking any other course of action, headed for London.
* * *
London Docklands — 1997
"COME AROUND AGAIN!" Hellboy screamed. "Don't turn your back on it!" The pilot swerved the helicopter. Hellboy swung from the open door, and his fist crushed metal as he struggled to hold on. He reached the pivot point and swung back in, and the griffin filled his whole field of vision. Someone shouted behind him, but there was no time to turn and look. He raised the pistol and let off three shots, seeing at least one of them find its target. The griffin raised its head in pain, and the rotor blades took a slice of skin and feathers from the top of its head.
It screamed, went into a dive, and disappeared below the helicopter.
"Go up!" Hellboy shouted. The helicopter rose, and he leaned out again, looking below. All he could see were the streets and warehouses around Docklands and the Thames widening as it neared the sea. The griffin was gone. "Left side?" he asked.
"Yeah, its there!" the pilot screamed, and the helicopter dipped suddenly, lifting Hellboy from his feet.
He looked at his right hand where it was fisted in the door jamb. It had crushed straight through the door, and metal was tearing with every twist and turn the pilot performed. He glanced back at Liz and Jim where they sat strapped into their seats. Jim was praying. Liz was trying to light a cigarette, but her finger kept going out in the breeze from the door.
"Liz!" he said. "Can you — "
"Not in this wind. I'll fry us all."
The pilot brought the helicopter under control again, flattened it out, and Hellboy could see the griffin circling them, maybe fifty feet above. He let go of the door — having to tear his hand away, ripping the metal even more — and ducked briefly back into the cabin.
"Hey, Hicks," Hellboy said. "You're doing great. But there's no way we can outrun this sucker, so I want you to chase it."
"Go after it?" Even through the intercom, Hicks' voice was terrified.
"Take the fight to it, rather than wait for it to knock us from the sky."