The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter 141: Second Time Around

Chapter 141: Second Time Around

Crowley was right. At this point Aziraphale had a glassy sheen to his gaze.

All his concentration gathered to the forefront of his mind, honing in on that home in the hills. No one else could see it, but Crowley could sense something opening in the angel's brow: a third eye focused like a laser beam. It was getting spooky.

So, when a hand came out and tugged his sleeve, the angel accidently dragged whoever five feet before he could make his feet stopped. He looked back, confused.

"It's time for the wards," Anathema explained. The angel's mental brakes seized, sending him into a tailspin, then gears locked up as they struggled to shift.

His face remained blank. She tried again. "The ritual? The one we talked about a hundred times before we left?"

"Now?"

"Now."

"But," he pointed lamely to the ridge. "We're nearly there."

"Which is why we agreed to wait until the last minute, remember?"

"Ahmmm?......"

The little witch balanced on his elbow and drew into his face. "Not waste the energies?"

Again, he blinked, and looked down, and inward again. She took him by the elbow and guided him awkwardly back. "Come on." Her voice was gentle, as if talking to a very fragile person. He just kept looking down and then back to her.

A thick wool blanket had been placed on the most level part of the ground, under some evergreens and over a bed of pine needles untouched by the snow. Marjorie messed with the corners aided by a compass, arranging them true north, south, east and west. Then, she riffled through their packs to pull out Newt's satchel, and from there all the wards they were using for protection, including the amber apple slices. Then she revealed a jar of salt, and a bundle of sage. Aziraphale was placed at Crowley's side as the little witch joined the adapt in preparing the circle.

"We did agree to this, angel," Crowley reminded him. "It had to wait, to preserve the energies."

"Yes, she said that already." Wordlessly, Aziraphale watched the women work, placing items in the center of the blanket. When Anathema held out her hand to him, and looked expectant, he reluctantly removed his ring and sword sheath with an irked thud to her palm.

"Don't need anything else off our persons, do you?" he uttered low.

"Nope," she smiled, flickering a glance to his vest. He frowned at her, and touched his lapels.

Crowley leaned to him. "Relax. You knew it would come to this: transferring all those, hmm, wonderful protections to our medallions."

"Yes, but I wish we possessed something of the tyrant's," Aziraphale whispered uncertainly.

"We don't. It's why we're doing this. Optimal coverage. Besides, we can add that later, if we're lucky."

"That's not filling me with confidence, Crowley."

"Still need to do it."

Anathema wiped her hands together, and appraised their work. Aziraphale saw a glow shimmer up around the blanket. "Ok. Let's go, angel. Time to gear up."

He swallowed, pensive and feeling on the spot. "Oh, this is very out of the ordinary. Must we do this here? Now?"

Anathema put her head in her hands. "We've gone over this!" It came out muffled, and weary.