The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 98: The Power of Numbers

Chapter 98: The Power of Numbers

In crowded places, there are things best not spoken of too openly. Or acknowledge outright.

For instance, meeting a being of questionable existence might be the kind of thing you try not to bring attention to. Crowley knew this well, though by now he had enough drunken discourse for 300 people to witness.

In his strange way of rationalizing, he himself was of questionable existence, and therefore everything canceled itself out.

Normally.

But did these humans unbalance that? Newt had that strange curse, and maybe he was just occult enough to avoid the universe's attention. But all Shadwell had was a furvert belief in his finger.

Crowley felt better knowing that soon they'd increase their numbers. It was a good thing Tracy had bent his ear at the flat, and then made a little phone call.

In other words, a bit of help was arriving soon to ensure the universe just went about its business, nothing to see here, move along please...

The meeting with the dead.

It would have been preferable to have the ladies here. More numbers, more feelers. But Anathema had insisted they stay behind. After that conversation about missing pieces...

Crowley shook himself, trying to ignore the vague and terrible gnawing concern. She had looked at him, dead in the eye, both of him and the angel. She could finally sense the old scabbard lingering on Aziraphale's hip, feel Crowley's vibrations all over it. Asking for a thing she couldn't see until it was placed in her hand. "Just in case," she swore to him, "and I'll give it back. But I have to know. So, YOU will know."

"You know I used this?"

"How often have you picked this up?"

"Twice, ever. But I threw myself into them, every time."

"Is there a change in you, when it happens?"

"My eyes turn green."

Her silence spoke volumes. She pulled back her hair back. "Leave it here. I'll...know when you return."

That was B.G. All business. On the outside.

He nodded, and pretended nothing was happening, that there'd be no terrible revelations tonight and that he was simply going out on the town with the rest.

And now he was pretending nothing out the ordinary would happen. It was easy to pretend when you're half-soused, as is your party.

Their guests arrived artfully.

Olivia was the first, gliding in like a wraith herself. She pulled up a chair before the others had a chance to even rise, perching like a small falcon. and was seated as they all half-stood. Everyone but Crowley, who didn't observe formalities unless it suited him. Then, he'd flourish a bow like nobody's business.

He only smiled a greeting to her, his jaw resting in his hand, his forefinger lazily placed by his cheek. "We need to stop meeting in pubs." The woman in dark returned his smile, but her eyes had this continual study on him. He really didn't mind.

Shadwell and Newt didn't know what to think of her. Another meddler in the occult, Shadwell didn't outwardly approve of Tracy's old friends. Her very presence stunned him abit. It was something in her mysterious carriage.

Newt was used to women in dark by now, but he was taken aback that this one wasn't yelling at him.

She caught a passing server and to Shadwell's surprise, ordered a stout. The angel attempted to introduce her as she gave him a gentle nod. But he flummoxed until Crowley kicked his knee, then turned to him. "You don't have to go into details, angel," he pointedly remarked. "She's just a friend of Tracy's we met abroad."

Aziraphale smoothed his vest very slowly and blinked several times. "Of-ofcourse. Just...a friend."

"That's right," the woman agreed in her high alto. "Just a friend."

"Had to cut you off," Crowley hissed into the angel's ear. "Otherwise, you will make Newt's head explode."

"He's not a child, Crowley."

"He also has the life experience of a five-day old banana."

"Ah. Yes. But he does learn fast."

Crowley looked back at Olivia as she spoke to Newt. "We don't have room for those kinds of lessons tonight."

The next guest, or guests, appeared with a pool cue in one hand, and a beer in the other.

The first thing they noticed was the uniform. Or lack there-of. Gary had finished his tour of duty and was staying after a bit. Didn't make him retired. Just made him less cameoed.

The second thing was that he was perhaps the darkest man they had ever seen. "Blue," he told them, when they glared, except for Newt and Olivia. He shrugged. "That's what most people think, but don't say. My folks came to the States from Mozambique, about a generation ago." He was straight jawed, and had thick, dark eyebrows over ovoid eyes. The tip of his septum bent down like Crowley's, and flared like Crowley's. He also didn't blink much, like Crowley. But he didn't have much expression either, unlike Crowley.

"That one's a deep well," Crowley noted. Aziraphale readjusted himself. "Whot is it?"

"Dear boy, don't you see the resemblance to Adam? The first Adam? It's a little unnerving."

"Or spooky?"

"Stop it, Crowley."

Newt introduced him and instead of pulling up a chair the Marine just squeezed in next to Newt, pushing Shadwell hard against the wall. Olivia made room for him as if it was nothing, and he smiled politely at her. "Where are my manners? Really Ms--?"

"Olivia," she cooed.

"Ms Olivia," he rolled the name around as if it were a hard candy. "There are bigger tables I can wrangle."

"How?" Shadwell spouted. "By shaking out da people there?" Gary was also very large, and didn't move like a large person. Shadwell registered, therefore, that a table would be fast in coming, but not worth the screams.

"I agree it is very crowded in here tonight," the angel stammered a little. "It would be hard to procure a table." Shadwell grunted.

Gary bodily shrugged, taking the grunt as a no-thanks, then stretched out, making himself bigger, just like Crowley. The pool cue leaned against his shoulder and down his lap. "All the same." Then he spread his hands out, "Shall we proceed?'

Newt touched his shoulder, and he slowly looked over. "Is Ester here already?"

He chuckled almost wearily, "She never really leaves."

"That has to be...interesting," Shadwell mumbled.

Those brown ovoid eyes regarded him, making him shiver. "Having a blond white woman from a parallel world take up space in your head? I mean, I guess so." He looked back out into the crowd. "But I don't know what's really worse: that's she's CIA, or civilian."

"But you're a civilian, now, aren't you?" Crowley pointed out. Gary eyeballed him, but saw beneath the remark and smiled openly.

"On the outside, cous, but I guess you know something about that."

Crowley raised his mug, and they both drank to that.