The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 128: No Light Words

Chapter 128: No Light Words

Adam opened his eyes, and looked toward the road. He nodded a very stoic nod for someone so young. And stranger still, let a small prayer fly out of his imaginings and up to the heavens.

                Adam's head was very occupied at present. Not just with plans and prayers, but people. A sort of relay system, or home base for his new colleagues in arms, as he put it. Witnesses and participants to the things going in and out of him. Warlock scoffed at the prayer. Greasy asked wtf. Adam shook his head, and gave them no response.

                One more thing. A final act before he picked up his bike and turned homeward with Dog. Another little notion performed that caused his compatriots pause.

                Mentally, he reached out to one uncle, and winced, feeling the wall. Then he waited for the other uncle to feel out his presence. He let himself be discovered as his mind was touched for just a moment. And then he drew away, not to return again until another time of his own choosing.

                If he'd learned anything from his uncles, it was when to slink away, and when to slink back, and strike.

"The boy was here," the angel uttered in a daze. He was caught completely off guard, thrown off balance, held hostage by the very fact the boy was here at all. Then the little witch cleared her throat. He shook himself and looked up at them. "But...I see you know this."

                "We didn't know it was him," Anathema stated. "Been on sabbatical. Is he gone now?"

                "Yes," Aziraphale said, closing his eyes and smiling again, feeling the young boy's goodbye. "Strategic little fellow. Oh," the angel touched his chest with his free hand. "Oh," his brow creased again. "Oh dear. He knows about...oh, he feels beastly."

                "Did he say something to you?"

                The angel's eyes misted over. "Wonderful scamp. He said,' Sorry I was late, Uncle Angel. I hope this helps. Oh, oh that precious—"

                Anathema tugged the angel's sleeve. Adam bought her time, gave her hope. He could do no more, and that had been more than requested. She was readjusting her thinking on the fly, reexamining the plans that hours before seemed too risky. Now it was up to her and whatever resources she had at hand, and she wasn't about to let the child's interference go to waste.

                Her eyes cast down to indicate the glasses. "I see you've been talking with Newt?" Aziraphale stood, confused.

                Anathema pointed meaningfully downward. "You're about try to convince me that this is a good idea."

                He looked at his hands.

                "The glasses," she said firmly.

                And with that he remembered himself and got back on the rails, animating like a wind-up toy. "Ah, yes! I want to discuss this! Don't write this contraption off, my dear. It may yet be of some use."

                "Really?" she said, folding her arms and not sounding sarcastic at all. "Do tell."

Everything sort of happened at once.

                Adam gave one last gift before he left. A nudge to Newt.

                The demon and Newt kept company in silence, in that dark cold basement with only a small lamp to read by.

                The peaceful hush was all Newt could offer Crowley, besides his vigilant study. It was a ministry of presence, and Crowley took it that way. After all, if a person's regular state of being is awkward silence, then there are times it is perhaps the best gift that person can bestow.