Crowley tries, and it might be that the wind whips the words away into their roaring wake, or it might simply be that there were no words at all; just a shout of inarticulate delight.

Impossibly - impossibly for anyone but them, for anyone who can't slip outside all governing laws and traverse the length of Europe in a night - impossibly, they're already halfway to the mountains, the great black slabs flying up out of the horizon with shocking speed.