The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 121: Conversation in the Eye of the Storm

Chapter 121: Conversation in the Eye of the Storm

Anathema edged down the stairs and lightly touched Shadwell's shoulder to wake him. With a start he snorted and looked up blearily at her. Her eyes fell meaningfully on Crowley's still form.

"He finally went to sleep?"

He glanced over, without moving his head and nodded, then rose so she could take his seat. "I took off his dressings an hour o'go. No bleedin'. No shoutin'."

"Any blinking?" she asked, her skirts swishing as she crossed her legs to get comfortable. In her lap she placed a small bundle and let her fingers cage protectively around it.

The older man grinned toothily at her and stood straighter. "Aye! Even chuckled. First time I seen his face relax in nary four hours. What did ye do?"

She patted the bundle. "Temporary fix, for now." She jerked her head. "Tracy's waiting for you. Go get some real sleep for a bit."

With that, he nodded, and planted one foot on the stairs, but hesitated, and turned slightly back. "Ye sure?"

"Yes, I don't know how long his respite will last. But long enough."

Shadwell wiped his face, and trudged back upstairs. When she heard to door click, she turned to bed, placed the bundle by Crowley's pillow, and leaned back. "Alright, you can stop pretending, demon. He's gone."

"Oh, God, that man's breath!" Crowley flung the blankets off his head and hauled himself up. His eyes were free, flashing, lively. No crimson edged or trickled downward. "Do ya' know, he likes to get this close yor face, I mean this close!" The demon pressed his palm to his nose.

Color had returned to his face, and the wasting away of his muscles seemed be reversing.

The little witch inwardly did a victory dance, beside herself at his quickening recovery, the opposite of her distress over his rapid decline. Watching his annoyed energy made her smile, just a little.

"I had to snork a few times just to get him to pull away! Just to convince him I was asleep. As if all this," he motioned his hand up and down his body, "didn't indicate enough that I was roit as rain!"

"Are you?"

"Oh, of course not." Crowley held his brow. "Head feels like I've been on an all-night bender, eyes feel like I've run sandpaper over'em. But," he rolled his head to her, "I'm betta'."

"Hmmm."

"Woja do?" he asked, noticing the bundle.

The witch looped her hands around her bent knee and leaned back further. "Unhexed the note, and the quill. Took a lot of work."

"I bet it did," he said through gritted teeth. "You'll never know how grateful I am."

The witch didn't answer at first. She had heard him shouting. But he was right: she'd never know the extent of his misery. He'd do nearly anything to keep it that way.

Anathema shook off the musings, and cleared her throat. "To keep its protection going, I'll need you show me how you intended on using it."

He nodded again, but somberly. "Won't be much more help. Not now. If that woman can find a way to filter her thing's magic past this," he tapped the glowing stone around his neck, "then she'll figure out that too, and soon. We need to put together how to use those mirror things."