The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 29: A Knight of Wands and Swords

Chapter 29: A Knight of Wands and Swords

The witch's glare said it all.

"B.G.," Crowley said with mock enthusiasm. "Fancy meeting you here."

Things had gotten a little weird between him and the angel after the night at Crowley's flat. Crowley's hair returned to normal, but there was a deeper change in his demeanor, and it plucked at the angel's heartstrings. An unspoken thing between them, it stemmed from the dreams and the events of last night. It manifested in Aziraphale keeping a close eye on his friend, to the point of being constantly there. Normally this would have driven the demon nuts, but right now, and after last night? Very often he found himself reaching for a hand, and that hand responding, and doing so with a tight squeeze, as if any moment now something might rip him away from the angel's side.

Now he was dropping Aziraphale off at "Ma-dame's" place. Sheesh, twice in one week, this was becoming a habit. The angel refrained from asking him inside, but Crowley offered to pop in if just to see the old girl. Might be weird, but weird was the flavor of the day.

What he didn't expect to find when they rang the doorbell what a rather fuming young woman in blue flinging the door open.

The angel took in a breath and appeared to brighten, "Well, Former Miss Device! An unexpected pleasure seeing you here..."

She didn't even say anything. For one brief second, she gave the angel the courtesy of a tiny smile before she flashed her eyes back to the demon. She just stuck out her lower lip and stabbed a forefinger downward.

Crowley sighed," Well, angel, looks like I'm being summoned."

"Real witches don't summon demons."

"No, but apparently they can scold them and send them to bed without suppa'."

Aziraphale's eyebrows rose and fell. The witch stepped aside for them to enter.

"I really should be meeting with both of you!" she growled as she closed the door," But I'll deal with him first."

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned at her. She got in his face. "Follow me, and take off those stupid glasses." And without seeing if he listened, she stomped away down the hall.

Crowley shrugged at the angel, removed his shades, and took her lead. "See you in a bit."

Aziraphale smoothed his hand over his lapels. "Oh, dear."

There was a small room at the back of the building. Not exactly a closet, a storage room, or an apartment, it must have served many purposes over the years because there was an odd collection of old and dusty things back there. There was also a desk, which Crowley promptly took a seat at and hoisted his feet onto the surface. Anathema closed the door.

The dark small-windowed room was just big enough for the young witch to pace back and forth, and berate him. But he never understood a word of it as she continued her tirade until she was fully out of breath. When she stopped, she looked around, then at him, and tilted her head.

"Can you turn on a light?"

Crowley barely moved, and pulled the cord on a lamp next to his feet. "Sorry," he said. "Forget you can't see in the dark."

"It's not so much that," she offered, smoothing her hands on her skirt, then pulling her hair back. "I mean, yes, it's dark, but not so dark I can't see you, but dark enough I can't see details but light enough—"