The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 13: Willing Tools

Chapter 13: Willing Tools

Anathema balanced on the edge of the bench, her body twisting at the waist and towards Crowley. "Something is," she searched for the word," forming out there, and sniffing the two of you out."

"Not Heaven or Hell, then," Crowley said incredulously. "They know where we are, always."

The witch shook her head. "No, something a little more terrestrial."

"Not human."

"No. But there are other things besides humans inhabiting the earth, now aren't there?"

Crowley made no reply, but she let it go. "You need to look out for one another."

"Not hard now."

"Do you keep an eye on him?"

"Always."

"And he you?"

"He keeps an eye OUT for me, which is far better."

"That can mean a lot of things, demon."

"And I mean all of them." Crowley folded his arms, looking into the mid distance. The witch scrutinized him. All of a sudden he was starting to brood.

"You've changed."

He barked a bitter laugh. "How can you know that? We've had a few brief encounters at best!"

"No, I mean—Listen." She touched his shoulder, which made the demon jerk out of his dark thoughts, but she had his attention. "Where's the angel? I wanted to address you both."

"We can go back to the bookshop," he responded in a soft voice, "You obviously sound like you have a plan."

She nodded. "But I specifically asked for you both? Why isn't he here?"

Crowley didn't answer her at first. Know each other, indeed.

He looked away again and folded into himself. "I left him to sleep in."

The witch made a perfect O with her lips and twitched her head. "Well, that explains a lot."

Crowley sneered, "Now what does that mean?"

"Well..." Oh, God, she's going to explain things again, isn't she? She folded her legs and placed her hands in her lap. "It's one of the clues that tipped me off about you. You haven't really changed, but something's rising to the surface now. Your vibrations sound like a gong."

"My vibrations?" Crowley was intrigued. "This is trippy."

"See," she went on, "Principalities don't have auras. One of the first clues about you, but not a good one: I can't always see them. But what I can detect is vibrations. And that's what you and the angel have."

"And what's mine like?"

"It's more of a changing rhythm. A complete drum set doing a solo."

"And Aziraphale?"

"A sort of...humming, a tone, taking on harmonics vaguely like classical music. Sometimes he sounds like a lively folk dance, sometimes a fugue."

"Quite a range."

"There's more."

"I'm all ears now, B.G."

"Now I can feel you synchronizing. Or at least creating a complex harmony. In addition, and I've never seen this, you carry an aura."

"Interesting! What does it look like?"

"Well, not really an aura, more like an afterimage, or a shadow. Ever see the ark of the covenant?" Like this is something anyone might have seen going about their business.

"Yes. Two angels with their wings facing each other."

"Well think," she raised her hands and acted to press something together," closer, much, much closer."

He just stared at her.

"I'm saying I can see a shadow of your wings, Crowley, and an image of his covering you."

His face was unreadable. "Blimey," was all he said.

"And your wings, Crowley? They're stretched into oblivion; I assume towards him. Now look, I really, truly, have no interest into the nuances of your relationship, but clearly something's got you worried for him. Is it why you left him behind?"

He turned away.

She became stern," Now look. I'm here to help you. London's great but I'm not here to sight see. You two are integral in the prevention of another Apocalypse."

This brought a wave of distaining laughter from the demon. She had to wait until he pulled into himself once more, and by then his mood was utterly morose. "So, we're tools once more."

"Crowley," Anathema said pointedly, with such intent the demon gave her his profile, if nothing else. " This time you choose to be tools. Don't think those of us who remember don't appreciate that for its worth."

He just nodded. Then returned to glaring in another direction. She gave him time. Finally, he admitted. "Aziraphale's having spells."

"Spells? What do you mean, spells?"

"Trances, states of meditation. Goes in and out of, I don't know what to call it!"

"Take me over there."

"What can you do?"

"I can diagnose."

He finally looked her in the eye. "Really?"

She shrugged. "Worth a try. Where else can you turn, loose connections or otherwise? Besides, even if you both don't agree to it, I still need to talk with him about this thing."

"The terrestrial thing?"

"Correct."

Crowley rose and jerked his head, and she followed him. "We'll talk in the Bentley. I need a lot of convincing, B.G. But I have nowhere else to turn." Then, a sudden nervous humor took him, and he asked her, "Just out of curiosity, did you visit any tailors in town?"

" Tailors don't make women's clothes, obviously."

"Depends on the tailor," Crowley muttered under his breath.