The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 127: Coming into the Light

Chapter 127: Coming into the Light

Anathema plugged on. She was good at it. When the odds were stacked against them, she persevered.

Until one night in November, when she nearly dropped the ball. For the first time in her life, she listened to second thoughts. She had always had second thoughts about things. But that voice that nagged, even when it was screaming at the fire under Agnes's sequel to her life, well, she had just punched it in the kidneys, and marched forward with the flag.

But tonight, seeing that slowly emerging glow of Aziraphale dowsed in the chaos, she stopped to look at that flag, expecting it to be white.

The women sat around the kitchen table, yawning and rubbing their graining eyes. More than once a head rested down, someone had to be shaken by the shoulder, someone glared at the wall in a glazed sort of way. Tea was made and no one could remember who made it. They talked. They talked about what next. Because they couldn't dwell on how unbelievably tired they were, how their muscles ached, how they felt dizzy and hollow and their mouths tasted funny. When was the last time anyone took a shower?

And they didn't mention the recent defeat. They couldn't fall to that, because now they fight for survival.

"We don't have an address yet?" Tracy asked hopefully. Anathema shook her head.

"The men were setting up the circle. Newt went to relieve Aziraphale for a time, but he brought his satchel downstairs."

"Do we need it to find her, to stop her?" Olivia asked. Anathema nodded. She looked meaningfully back to Tracy.

"Are you both seeing things again? Or feeling them, in your case?"

Tracy tried to offer up a hopeful smile, but it never reached her eyes. "I'd rather not talk about it, dearie." She was on the verge of crying again. The little witch pitied her, and the burden her gift could bring. She returned her gaze to the dom, and realized she was glowering at her.

Olivia was cool, so collected. So quick to right herself when she stumbled. When everyone else seemed so blasted, here she stood with that stupid gentle grin on her face. She had it now, though it was wilted. "I see wings. Lots and lots of wings."

The witch's lip curled. "Hmmm." She saw wings too. Fading wings. "Anything else?"

"Nothing I want to share," the other woman divulged softly, rising to make more tea. "Nothing that would help."

When the woman turned her back, Anathema glowered harder. A tired spike of jealousy crammed in her gut. Jealousy, or suspicion. She recognized it; she wasn't used to it. Mostly, she didn't like it.

As the dom put the water on the boil, the witch began to see her in a new light. How advantageous, really, that she just appeared to Crowley and the angel when she had. They had brought her into their confidence in a seeming blink of an eye. Did they vet her? Did they ever question where she came from, her motives? Surely.

Crowley by nature didn't just hand over unproven loyalty. And as gullible as the angel was, he wasn't a fool. But here they had gone, trusting her in such blatant ways they had only done with Anathema, once. The witch wondered, perhaps, had they met her earlier, if she would have been the one sanctifying their summoning on All Souls Day.

Olivia came, and happily delivered, whenever people were at their lowest point.

The dom poured the water and steeped the tea. And without turning, she addressed the witch. "I don't always have the answers. And I don't always know how to help."

Anathema rolled her eyes. "You can see it all over me, can't you?"

The woman in black shrugged, and gave her profile. "I don't hold it against you, suspecting this weirdo in your midst." She tapped the edge of the teapot. "We're all human. And these humans are close to collapse."

She turned around and leaned against the counter, and even that had poise. But the witch heard her: we're all human.

We're all tired.

We just took a huge blow, and are facing the impossible with no real plan other than marginal defense. A wing, and a prayer.

They remained quietly in their own thoughts as the tea was prepared, and brought to the table. Then Olivia cast her eyes to the window, then turned toward the living room, and in the direction of the woods beyond.

"Do you feel that? Have you felt it?"

"Vaguely," the witch admitted, smushing her face in her fist as she leaned against her elbow and sipped her cup. "Tracy?"

"Marjorie," adept signed raggedly, rubbing her face with both her hands. "I just want to be Marjorie for a while. And yes," she batted her large eyes, revealing dark circles beneath. "Chalked it up to residual magic before. Now..." she cocked her head. "It seems purposeful, and familiar."

"But different somehow," the witch added. "If I weren't so wasted, I could pinpoint it. But dare I say it, something out there is trying to help us, don't you think?"

"I don't know what to think," Tracy admitted, holding her hand to her chest. "If the angel hadn't lost his glow, I'd have more faith."

"Don't fall to that darkness," Olivia soothed, touching her wrist. Tracy offered her a grateful and weary smile. "This could be a real thing."

"I'm too tired to question it," Anathema added. "I'll take whatever rope is thrown me."

Olivia turned her head, and rose her eyebrows.

"Yes, even you," the witch grumbled sarcastically. They all returned their attention to the living room, and as one, rose and went there.

Hands drew away the curtains, staring out into the darkness.

"It's strengthening," Anathema whispered. "Do you feel it?"

"It's focusing," Olivia agreed, searching the points of the contact with the mirror items. "On the circle, on us."

"Cor," Tracy gasped. Then she turned in the other direction, and closed her eyes. "That's not all that's growing."

"The witch?" She nodded, her lips pursing.

"Got a whiff of her, now that I know what to look for. She's.... building up, slow-like." Her mouth smoothed out into an actual sneer. It looked so out of place on that pleasing face. "She thinks she has us cornered. Bidding her time."

Anathema dropped the curtain. "Let's take advantage of it then. I'm starting to feel my energy come back."

"Me too," Olivia laughed softly. "I'll get an even bigger boost in a moment." She looked to the basement door.

Anathema asked," Why?" Then her ears pricked to footsteps running up the stairs.

The angel pushed aside the door and bounced into the room. In his hands he was clutching a pair of odd glasses. And he was radiant, and beaming like a fiend.

Excitedly, his mouth fell open, and he paused. Furrowing his brow, he looked to the kitchen, and then to the living room widow. Confusion raced across his face before his brow rose high and he gasped.

"Adam."