The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 104: You Need a Great Big Eraser for This One

Chapter 104: You Need a Great Big Eraser for This One

The thing in the mirror regarded Crowley's threat with distaining laughter. He watched her leaned back and shake her blond streaked ginger hair. "I mean really, that was overkill. You try too hard."

"I don't see you reaching out." Crowley plopped back into the seat.

Her face went grim.

Then she twitched, and flicked her hair. Her face writhed with smarminess. "Well," she countered. "It's just a matter of time. Sooner or later, you will hand them over. I can work you over for a while, knowing the outcome."

Crowley's ears perked up. "How do you know the outcome?"

Coyly, she blinked her eyes. "Oh, didn't you know? It's been written."

"You are so full of shit that you astound me."

"Oh, no, it's true. Eventually you hand everything over to me. Crawl on your belly to do it, groveling."

"You really expect me to swallow that? Aziraphale was created for prophecy. By now we'd know all we need of 'it-is-written,' and how to wiggle around it. It's what we do. We're experts by now!"

"But you can't change the future."

"Only because it hasn't been written! Predictions don't equate to commands!"

"I'm beginning to think you believe me."

Crowley checked himself. He was standing, practically frothing at the mouth, his heart thumping. Calming down, he lowered himself and added, evenly, "Aziraphale read them front to back. There is nothing there, and even if there were, fuck it." He stuck his thumb at his chest. "I write my own story now! I walk my own road!"

"There are other prophecies," the girl giggled, fading away. "Not written, but painted. And they say you will grovel to me before your angel's eyes..." it echoed in his stinging ears, "You will grovel and scrape....be reduced....before those lovely blue eyes...to nothing he recognizes....nothing he loves."

When she vanished all that was left was Crowley's reflection. He studied it. The glasses, the frown.

Calmness reigned there. And it was a nothing but a mask.

***

In a room full of mirrors, a woman walked, and checked her teeth.

She regarded more of herself. A pinched nose, eyes large and wide apart, and a full very wide mouth with a firm jaw. A small but rounded brow.

Red hair. All of it inherited down through the ages from a great, great, however-many-times-great aunt. None of it from a demon.

Her clothing was new, expensive, polished. But not showy. Causal in a 1% kind of way. Her manners, on the other hand, weren't so hoity-toity.

Her fingers grazed her teeth, trying to get rid of the lipstick mark. It just didn't matter how much cash you slammed down for good lip stitch: it always found its way to your teeth.

If you bore them enough.

Her hand reached into a small purse that could be sold to feed a whole town, and she withdrew more lipstick and applied it, then blotted, and turned her head left and right. As she put it away, she said to the air," Darling, you can rest now. The bad man is gone."

From a dark and stinking corner, a shuttering voice crackled like a dying fire. "I did good, mama?"

"Oh yes, darling. You make me proud."

"...so weak....mama..."

"Don't worry, child." The woman smiled at her own reflection and patted her hair. "That's what mothers are for. You did a very good job, throwing you voice over mine. If I have to pretend to be you, that's fine!"

Something gurgled.

"But, we have to change gears," the woman whispered, pulling lent off her lapel. "He's edgy, but he's cunning. I underestimated both of them. Mama can't let you come to harm, after all." Now she twisted around and smiled like a fiend. "You're too much of an asset."

"...mama..."

"So, for now, you just recoup, and regroup."

"...hate it here, the mirrors, can't see myself, can't see who I am..."

"Not to worry, dear! I'll keep you informed of the wide, wide world." She turned around and glared hatefully at the glass. "Obviously you can't snipe from the windows anymore. His control over these is too strong now." She tapped her lip with a French-tipped fingernail. "Suppose I'll have to do something about that. You've done very well, clearing the way for me, darling. You have him so on edge all it will take is a few extra pushes."

A soft moan came out of the corner. Signing, the woman rolled her eyes and turned, a false smile plastered all over her terrible face. Crossing the space toward the dark reeking corner, she knelt but still balanced on her nice shoes. "Come on out, deal. Let mama see you." She put out her hands and something...tarnished...took them.

The woman kept her fake grin, though her eyes creased in disgust. Slowly the creature emerged, and looked forlornly at her. "I disappear...mama."

The creature's skin was nothing more than a grubby mirror. Smooth and vaguely humanoid, and filthy, it held no identity to be seen. No face. Only a slash of a mouth filled with needles, and stinking of sulfur and decay beneath its shiny skin.

The woman tisked, and petted it on its pitiful head. "There, there, love. I can't lend you my image just yet. It's taking too much out of you." And me. You may amplify my powers, but you drain them as well. Stupid thing, letting yourself be raided like this, exposing my image to that punk's possible control!...

The creature moaned longer, and drew back into the shadows. And the woman rose and backed away.

"There, there, love. Now you just rest. Your time will come." Then she turned, and cracked her lovely neck. "As for me," she muttered to herself," Now I must go to clean up your mess."