The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 42: Whatever Happens, for Good or Evil, We are Beside You

Chapter 42: Whatever Happens, for Good or Evil, We are Beside You

"Where in all nine Hells are they!"

The screech filled the cavernous room of mirrors. "Jinny" raked her claws against one long wall, adding to the reverberating, earsplitting noise. Its echoes shook the surfaces of the glass, but did not break them. Nothing broke them. She cursed the dukes of hell for putting her in this foul predicament. If only this were truly Crowley's soul, and not some pocket dimension scabbed over by the universe's disinterest.

The demon was traveling, she knew that much. The nightmares she sent him were a type of buckshot, the mirrors a mode of transport merely because the demon's soul was full of them. But she had to shoot blind, not sure exactly where he was. Some reached him, some didn't. And when they did, oh they rocked his sleep, but did nothing to sap his energy. It would have worn her down if she wasn't so uplifted by her own seething outrage.

Sometimes he seemed everywhere at once, and when she could track him she only knew from the immense barrier she kept striking against. And the barrier was thick, and deep. The angel was in there too, somewhere.

Hell knew exactly where he was, but would they tell her? Of course not. Why give Crowley a chance to see their hand? As if he didn't perceive it there already. Idiots!

The dukes of Hell....were cowards. The lords of hell couldn't be bothered.

She had been sent out as a blind test, an afterthought, left to her own devices, to form herself, with no instruction, and few provisions. All from a frightened avoidance of the demon Crowley. How much power could the little punk possibly have?

Raking her fingers back, she paused before a small ebony box before her feet, and bent down to open it. A chest the size of a small foot locker. Her meager provisions.

But what meager provisions she did possess could serve her well.

All she had to do was wait for the opportunity.

She had but a few days...

A few days.

Enough time to prepare. Enough time for Anathema to fret in places she wasn't used to fretting. It would work. But, as she regarded Madame Tracy taping boxes together in her living room, her racing brain couldn't let go of Crowley's ancient injuries....

But, the plan went thusly:

It was a simple summoning, as bare bones and practical as it could be. And why summon something that's standing right there, you ask?

Summoning the angel and demon meant creating a bespoke protection ward, binding them together through their own individual energies, so that horrible thing beyond the veil couldn't harm her friends.

And there would be no dripping candles, no incantations other than a few monosyllables, no powders or weird choking censers filled with incense. Well, a few beeswax candles, some school chalk, two sets of chakra stones, and a boiled egg, but that was it. Ok, maybe the kitchen salt, and the butter knife. But there was a pointed lack of ceremony to be sure.

It had to be as basic as possible No more and no less than exactly what was required. And Anathema had a secondary reason to drop the extravagance, now that she had the full details of Crowley's past.

This would not become a triggering event.

Crowley appreciated her wariness, but to him it was growing into a hindrance. "S'not like I haven't been summoned before or after B.G.," the demon had assured her before they left the room. He made damn sure Aziraphale could overhear them.