Then, during the attempted invasion of Earth, they had discovered the strange joys of a foul beer named Spiggit’s Old Peculiar and had never looked back. For a while they had not looked anywhere at all, Spiggit’s tending to cause temporary blindness and an overwhelming desire to be dead. Back in Hell, they attempted to brew it themselves, with mixed results, but they had never stopped trying. When they eventually managed to escape from Hell, their ability to consume large quantities of Spiggit’s without actually dying, combined with their sensitive taste buds, had brought them the job of a lifetime: as chief tasters and beer experimenters at Spiggit’s Brewery, Chemical Weapons, and Cleaning Products Ltd.⁶⁰

Yes, they were demons. Even Old Mr. Spiggit himself, whose eyesight was very poor, and who was generally regarded as a lunatic, could see from the start that Shan and Gath weren’t your usual employees. On the other hand, they didn’t stand out as much at the Spiggit’s Brewery as they might have done elsewhere on Earth. Years of exposure to Spiggit’s had caused biological changes to many of the company’s employees. Mr. Lambert in Accounts had to shave his hands at least twice a week, and had so much facial hair that the only way to be sure that you were talking to his face was to look for the bulge where his nose was; Mr. Norris in Sales had a third thumb; and Mrs. Elmtree in Quality Control had grown small but noticeable horns. They didn’t mind, though, as Spiggit’s paid well, and nobody else would employ them anyway because they looked so distinctive.

Shan and Gath had proven particularly good at looking after the more experimental brews, including the lethal Spiggit’s Old Notorious, a beer so dangerous that a batch of its yeast had once stolen a car and held up the Bank of Biddlecombe. The yeast had never been caught, and was now believed to be living somewhere in Spain. Shan and Gath had put an end to that kind of nonsense. No yeast was going to cause trouble on their watch.

Very few things could lure Shan and Gath out of their comfortable home at Spiggit’s Brewery, but the invitation that had landed on their doorstep a few days earlier had contained the magic words FREE BEER, which was why they were now standing outside Wreckit & Sons wondering where the party was.

Shan approached the occult field. He suspected that it was dangerous, but he wasn’t entirely sure. To test his theory he pushed Gath against it. There was a buzzing sound, and the back of Gath’s coat disappeared, leaving only a smoking hole where the material had once been.

“Hurh-hurh.” Shan laughed as Gath put out the last of the flames.

“Hurh-hurh.” Gath laughed before grabbing Shan’s right hand and sticking Shan’s index finger into the field. The finger promptly vanished, leaving only a smoking stump in its place.

“Hurh-hurh.” Gath laughed again.

“No, hurh-hurt,” said Shan.

He would have wagged his finger disapprovingly at Gath, who always took a joke too far, but he was still waiting for it to grow back. When it had done so, he looked again at the invitation.