BAD GRACE - quantum witch © 2005
see Prologue for warnings, rating, and summary
In which a further three years pass, Disciples are met, Horsepersons and Sins continue their fun, and final preparations for the Apocalypse begin.
6:02 – THE MARCH OF TIME, 2
1996. A musician is arrested for drugs after another band member is found dead in a hotel room. The Unabomber strikes again and again, but is finally caught. There is a bombing near the Olympic stadium in Georgia. The Middle East is criticised for its program of oil-for-food.
AZIRAPHALE HAD BEEN FAIRLY DEPRESSED about the fact that many libraries and schools were beginning to install computers with internet access. It was so dreadful to think books could be utterly replaced by electronic media.
Then along came one particular children's book by an unknown British author. It was quite charming on its own, with a wonderful moral lesson, but the best part was how it had renewed the interest of children worldwide to actually read a solid book made of paper. He foresaw good things for the boy wizard throughout the following six sequels. His hopes for the future of readership were renewed.
But otherwise, he was still fairly depressed. Especially since he'd been thinking of Crowley almost constantly lately. Dreaming too. Painfully erotic and distressing dreams due to years of pent up desire and, he still had to admit, love. But knowing that he might well not see the demon again or, if he did, maybe centuries from now… was it was possible the feeling might fade away, that he might let it go just to stop hurting…? That thought depressed him most of all.
It felt as if his heart was being stabbed over and over with tiny needles of ice, trying desperately to either freeze and preserve the love for all time, or to kill it and spare him the pain that eternity alone would bring.
ADAM AND RACHEL WERE AT THE PIT, and Rachel was crying seriously for the first time since she'd been a baby. Adam was leaving for college. He'd tried to explain that he needed to go, because Tadfield didn't have a school for art.
"You dunt need a stupid ol' school, you're already good 'nuff," she begged.
"Yeah, maybe so. But I'm trying to fit into this world, just like you are," he said pointedly, "and sometimes you have to just give in and play the game. You go to school, even though you know way more than anyone else there. You also know that you have to be quiet about it."
She sniffled. "So what? You could jus'… you could… make it all change."
Adam sighed. "I could, but I can't. It wouldn't be right. It nearly happened once, and it might happen again for all I know. But it won't be because I do it. I just can't."
"Okay," she whispered sadly. "But you hafta come back. You hafta."
"I will." He smiled and hugged her close. "This will always be home to me, it's my Garden and you're… my best girl. You know I'll always be around, and I'll always protect you." He gave her a very serious look then. "You're important. I have to watch out for you."
Rachel hiccoughed a little, but her tears stopped. "Never toldya what I see…"
"What you see?"
"When I look at people. When I look in the mirror, or at you."
He raised an eyebrow. "You see something besides people?"
"Sometimes I see what they really are. The lights an' darks."
"Their auras? Like your mum?"
"Different. She dunt see everythin'. I do… And sometimes 'm not sure what to do…"
"Tell me."
She took a deep breath and backed away, sitting down on the ground by the Pit. She was trying to find the words to explain what she'd been seeing since she was two.
"Okay, 's like… I see the person all the time. But sometimes I see the light 'round 'em too, layin' on top of 'em. 'S all different colours, an' sometimes one's brighter than the others. So I know what's happening to 'em. Like, my mum's blue and purple, but when she's mad 'bout something it goes kinda orange, like opposite of her normal colour… Anyway, I can also see inside the person. I still see the outside but it's like they're… open, I guess, sorta see-through. I see all the stuff they really are, not just what they feel. They have all sortsa colours there too, and it gets all messy if they don't take care of themselves or do what they needta. Like I see… when I look at Uncle Zirfal… 's like he doesn't even have room for everythin' anymore. There all this white light but it's mixed up with everythin' else, like somebody finger-painted all swirly. Right 'round his heart there's a pretty red-purple spot, and that's where he loves Uncle Crowley… but 'round the edges he's getting' these little black thorns, and it keeps hurtin' him. It hurts me to see… but I know Crowley'll come back 'fore the thorns make the purple spot go away... He's gotta." She took another deep breath and fell silent.
Adam was spellbound by her recounting, but when she stopped he said, "What do you see… when you look at me?"
She gazed past him with distant eyes. "Same thing as when I look in the mirror."
EXCEPT FOR THE BIG CITIES scattered around the edge of the continent, Australia was so much like Africa that Crowley didn't see the point. He began to understand why Aziraphale thought it 'uncivilised'. True they had that lovely opera house in Sydney, but going there wasn't much fun alone.
He'd begun to admit he was missing the angel. And that meant trouble. He didn't dare go back. It would be too hard. It had been years now. Aziraphale was undoubtedly pissed at him, and would be cold and prissy and they might even be enemies again… And his circular reasoning was driving him insane.
Besides, lately he'd been having dreams about the damned angel. Intense and sticky and beautiful and happy and fruitless. It hurt. It ached like he'd been punched somewhere deep inside where he couldn't see it or heal it. That made him mad enough to keep running away.
Australia was about as far away as he could get and still be on the surface of the earth. But they had an amazing array of deadly poisonous wildlife. Going on a tour here was virtually asking for discorporation. Trying to discuss things snake-to-snake wouldn't get him very far with that sort.
Then a mad gunman went on an eighteen hour killing spree along the coast, and Crowley figured it was the sign to get the hell out. Indonesia looked good and was relatively close by.
1997. Blogs and MMORPGS are introduced. A religious cult in California commit mass suicide. New York police severely beat a man in handcuffs. A well-loved princess is killed in an accident, and the former 'other woman', who bad-mouths the dead princess, is the only one not allowed to attend the funeral. The first death connected to the Breatherian diet makes headlines.
RACHEL STARTED KEY 1 YEAR AT Edengarth school, and though a little nervous at first, she quickly saw something special. There were six girls sitting in a row and together their auras overlapped one another, making a perfect rainbow of colour. This was very important, Rachel could tell. So she would have to meet them soon, in the right way.
The instructor directed them all to draw, after which they would take turns telling a story about their home life. Rachel drew doves, and crosses with circles on the middles, and the teacher asked if she knew a lot about Jesus. Rachel nodded silently, not wanting to tell anymore about it. She knew that she could only trust one person right now, and that was Adam.
Rachel told her story about home. She said how she liked to help her mother work in the garden, how they dried herbs for her mum to sell, and how her dad held her up on his shoulders so she could pick apples straight off the trees. She showed everyone the stone with the hole she'd found last year, which she now wore on a string around her neck. She told about the doves who nested in the trees every year, and about her nice uncle who owned a bookstore downtown, and that she had another uncle who was traveling the world but she hadn't seen him in years. She didn't talk about Adam just yet.
The six rainbow girls liked her story, and during break they gathered to her. Everyone had gone out onto the playground and Rachel was painstakingly drawing a large hopscotch on the pavement. She drew it with all circles instead of squares, in a slightly different configuration, and this intrigued the other girls.
"That looks fun, c'n I play too?" one girl with reddish-brown hair asked. "M'name's Mikaela, but I dunt like it very much."
"I'll call you Miki, then," Rachel smiled up at her. "You can play first, if you want."
"Thanks, I like that name." She found a rock and began to hop along.
A girl with blonde hair came forward, "Um, hi, um, I'm Chloe, and, um, I like hopscotch too, um, and I think 's a really good game, and…"
Rachel smiled. "Then you can go second, Chloe. We're all gonna be friends anyway. Right?" She looked at all six, and they all beamed delightedly.
Finally, one by one, they got into line and were having a wonderful time, though none of them made it to the top circle. Yet.
Miki wasn't very good at first though, and she was unhappy that she could barely get halfway. The smallest girl, a dark-skinned brunette name Selina, was very kind and told Miki that if she kept trying she'd make it. Belle, the smiling one with black hair and dark almond eyes, gave Miki her turn twice so that she could keep trying. Lexa, auburn-haired and tall for her age, made it to the eighth or ninth circle every time, but never pushed when the other girls took too long. And Chloe, the talkative one, hopped and skipped very daintily, making sure her skirt never flipped too high.
The only who stayed aside was Deedee, a brunette who was slightly heavier than the rest. Rachel tried to encourage her to play, but Deedee was too shy and said maybe next time. Rachel nodded silently.
Then she took her final turn. It was time to reach the top and open the circle. She hopped and skipped, she bent over carefully on one leg, she picked up the stone, and she reached the top circle. Which was named Heaven.
And she felt the surge of energy that the others wouldn't feel until they made it that far. As soon as they could, she would know they understood, and they would be with her at least until the end of the world. Beyond that… she could not tell.
Finally Deedee took the stone, determined to try. She made it halfway then fell over. The others encouraged her to get up and keep going. She cried a little because she'd skinned her knee, but she continued and made it to the top. There, she felt an odd tingle in the air. When she opened her mouth to explain, she suddenly caught Rachel's eye and didn't speak a word. Everyone else was cheering that she'd made it, but Deedee simply smiled and went to Rachel.
"Thanks for helping me," she said softly.
Rachel bent down to examine her knee, and said, "There, it's not as bad as you thought."
The bloody scrape was entirely gone. No one else but Deedee noticed.
ADAM SELF-PUBLISHED HIS FIRST COMIC BOOK based on the Apocalypse, with ten more issues to come. It went over very well, due to what his instructor called 'psychic resonance of Jungian archetypes'. Whatever. They sold like mad, and he was quickly approached by a professional publishing company. If he could do what he really liked doing and make money already, school was just a formality. He would complete the year, get the first part of his degree, and continue to sell his comic.
Then he would move back to Tadfield forever. And wait for Rachel to grow up.
BRIAN WENT TO ONE YEAR OF NORTON POLYTECHNIC, where he and Pepper ran into one another. They began to hang out, and realised soon that they still had a lot in common. And then they began to date seriously. Brian left school and began working for the Tadfield Advertiser (replacing Tina, who had finally moved up to junior copy editor), but he had higher ambitions, one of which was to silence R.P. Tyler's nonsense. Pepper continued college, but her future desires were starting to revolve around her old friend Brian.
WENSLEY HAD BEEN WORKING PART TIME in storage at the British Museum, when he'd met the owner of an interesting private collection of reliquaries. The collection was often loaned out to various museums, and the owner asked Wensley if he would be interested in assisting him. It was indeed a fascinating collection, bits of saints and prophets dating back many centuries and even millennia. It was the sort of history he found intriguing, and the methods of preservation on some items was also science that appealed to him. He accepted the position. And then he left school.
What he didn't see was the virtually invisible spectre of an attractive woman hovering amidst the collection. She had hated pushing his mind, just a nudge, but it was worth it and necessary. Soon, she would be going home. At long last.
1998. Viagra comes to the market, declaring massive and embarrassing cases of impotency. A US president is discovered to be having an affair and later faces impeachment hearings. In Texas, three KKK members drag a man to death behind a car. An upgrade to the Vis-A-Vive is announced, which will include video games manipulated solely eyeball movement. The ten thousandth Mocha Dick's is opened and a new set of specialty drinks called the Seven Sins begins to sell like wildfire.
THEN THINGS SHIFTED. The Time was coming. Or rather Time was coming to an end, again.
WENSLEY'S BOSS SENT HIM, quite by surprise, to Tadfield's small museum of history. They had requested a few pieces only, those that belonged to any saint or prophet that had lived in the British Isles. It was all part of a school project for the older classes, their final grade in local history. Wensley was sent alone, as there were only a dozen pieces.
He was glad to be back home. Especially when others found out he was back and they told him the news of Brian and Pepper's engagement.
RACHEL AND HER FRIENDS WERE PLAYING inside Lexa's house, on a rainy Sunday. And unlike normal days, Rachel was brooding.
"What's wrong? Rain is a big bummer, huh?" Selina laughed gently.
"'S not that. It's… something big is comin' soon…"
"Yeah, Deedee's birthday!" Miki said, poking the arm of the girl in question. "She's gonna be eight before all of us."
"Old lady!" Belle giggled. "We'll buy you a cane."
"And, um, a zimmer frame, and, um, a manky old wig, and-"
"Chloe, only your old granny wears a manky wig," Lexa sighed.
"Um, okay, then… fake teeth!" Chloe laughed and fell over, delighted by her own jokes.
Deedee rolled her eyes, and went over to Rachel by the window. "C'mon. What's really goin' on? What's comin' that's upset you?"
"I need to… I need you all to listen, okay? And to believe me, please."
Hearing the seriousness of her voice, they all stopped being silly and gathered around, sitting on the floor below her chair. Rachel sighed deeply, then said, "It's gonna happen on the week of Deedee's birthday. Not sure the exact day, but… some people are gonna come and… It doesn't matter about that yet. I just need you all to trust me on that day. To help me."
"We'll always help you, Rachel," Miki said, patting her knee and looking worried.
"Of course, you're our friend," said Belle.
"But there's more… I need to show you all something. And you can't tell anyone, okay?"
They looked at each other with further unease. But they all nodded.
"Okay…" She reached out to the window sill where there was a dead insect, some sort of beetle. "One of you pick that up. Make sure it's really dead."
Lexa picked it up and they all looked closely. "Yep, it's dead all right."
Rachel inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and held out her empty hands. "Give it to me." The insect was dropped into her hand. She closed it and breathed gently through her fingers. Then opened them again.
The beetled flickered its wings, spread them and flew away.
She looked down at their stunned faces, hoping she wouldn't see fear or disbelief, or that they would think it was just a party trick.
Instead, they all declared excitement. "That was so cool!" Selina yelped. "I wish I could do that. I have a hamster than died a week ago."
Rachel shook her head. "I'm not sure I can teach you that one. But… one day you'll all be able to do something big, even if it seems really small. If you can trust me. I'll show you, when the day comes."
CROWLEY HAD LOST A GOOD DEAL OF HIS MONEY, thanks to a bad investment. He'd been in Indonesia for about a year. There had been talk of a brand new gold mine and he'd thought it a great idea to be in on the ground floor, so to speak. But it had been a hoax. And now he was very strapped for cash. He barely had enough to keep his Bentley stashed away safely, and he would rather sell himself before selling it.
It was starting to look like a distinct possibility. And he sighed, preparing himself.
Fortunately, he could still scam his way into parties with no effort. He was handsome, he was well-dressed and groomed, he knew it, and he didn't need to worry that others knew it because, duh, they had eyes.
So he attended a very high-tone party, and with little effort caught the attentions of two lovely ladies. He recognised the blonde right away, as her face and body were plastered everywhere around the island and most of the world. The other was vaguely familiar, but since he didn't watch the news as much as entertainment, he didn't know her instantly.
But he got to know them both fairly intimately within a short while.
They were permanent guests of the queen, which honestly impressed him. Saffet and Iona chatted him up successfully, not that it would have taken more than a piece of cobweb tied around his pinkie finger to pull him. He was ready to say any number of affirmative words in whatever languages they spoke, from the minute they looked at him.
Now they were in Saffet's suite, naked, in the ten person-sized Jacuzzi, drinking champagne that looked like liquid gold and was five times as expensive per ounce.
Crowley leaned his head back in bliss. Oh, how he would like to stay like this forever. And the feel of lips and hands all over him wasn't a bad bonus. Between two mouths and four hands, they were successfully finding all his erogenous zones and making up a few more. He simply could not manage to keep up with them, and that was saying something indeed. And this was all before they even left the Jacuzzi.
Boneless with exhaustion, Crowley felt himself dragged out of the water and onto a huge bed, and saw they were preparing for Who-only-knew what further carnal adventures, when the queen herself entered the room. Crowley lifted his head, and wondered briefly if she would join in and thus reduce his flesh to helpless sponge, but she merely spoke to the others and they left together.
He wasn't sure whether to be insulted at being left so casually, or grateful for the reprieve. Two seconds later, draped face down over the edge of the bed, he began to gently snore.
THE MUCH-BELEAGUERED DELIVERY MAN from International Express had been traveling the globe again, delivering odd packages with uncertain contents to people of deeply suspicious origin. But he was a professional and always kept up his cheery façade, even in the face of the exceptionally terrifying individual who had hired him for these deliveries.
He'd started a few days ago by going to the United States. There he had arrived at a tall office building and delivered a set of silver scales to a terribly thin man (whom he was certain he regonised), and a sceptre lined with sapphires to an equally thin woman. They had thanked him, signed the delivery forms, and then excused him just before they all but molested one another. The International Express delivery man tsked at such impropriety, which was just another sign of the decay of morality in this day and age, my word.
Not long after that delivery, he traveled on to South America. Things had been pretty dodgy down there for a while, mob actions that bordered on being civil war. But he traipsed unharmed toward a bombed-out building that might have once been a prison. Here he delivered to a pair of gorgeous red-haired twins an iron sword and an iron scourge. The two women licked identical pink tongues over their red lips and thanked him kindly in voices that sounded like the slide of metal being unsheathed. He hurried away to his next job.
Europe was less turbulent, thank the good Lord, but he had to get past a lot of security checks before being allowed into the factory for his next delivery. Once he'd gotten to the main office, he signed over a silver circlet crown to an albino boy and an orange cloak to a scruffy looking girl. They held each other's hands and smiled serenely. The International Express man backed away when it seemed that their hands were beginning to fuse together. Must be exhaustion from all the traveling.
Then came the next-to-last location, an Indonesian island kingdom. The security there was almost penetrative and he felt very put upon by being searched so thoroughly. But it seemed the queen knew he was coming, and the packages themselves were not touched. A little miffed at being so treated, the delivery man nonetheless kept his professional smile in place as he signed over a hexagram necklace to the queen, a copper lamp to the blonde beauty, and a silver censer to the wholesome looking one in glasses. They thanked him seductively, and he felt quite lucky to get away intact.
Now he had two more deliveries to make, and he knew without doubt they would be the last ones he ever did.
Mostly because he was going to retire immediately thereafter. He was getting way too old for this shit.
GINGER HAD FINALLY CRACKED THE CODE, though it did her little good. Her Boss hadn't been around in a while and she had no way of contacting him.
She knew everything she needed to about where and when the Second Coming would take place. She knew also that the Second Coming had not been the birth but the Call to Destiny taking place this year.
The date had finally been determined as 1 August 1998. She'd had to sully herself by reading pagan works, to find the day and month was called Lammas, meaning loaf-mass. The 'Bread Mass day' of the prophecies. The year she'd been handed on a platter. The Boss had been informed of the precise date, and had left immediately to prepare other matters, he said. But he hadn't returned since.
Now she had gotten enough clues to determine a town. These prophecies had seemed rather pointless and random until she combined them together.
798: The apple falleth not far from the tree.
2833: Far from the tree the Felled one falls ynto the hands of Lyfe.
3891: Lyfe becomes Lighte and groweth in the garden.
4012: A garth wherein falles the apple doth enfold the Six and One.
4199: The Circle, the apple, the stone, are Lyfe.
The first had seemed remarkably trite. So she had searched her cross-references for the word 'apple', 'tree', and 'garden', and together they had seemed to fit a pattern, though disjointed when separate. They indicated the Christ existed somewhere like Eden, and was probably already with his Disciples. The word 'garth' was old English for 'garden', of course. And this was especially of interest, as she had searched a map and found there was indeed a town called Edengarth, right here in England. If only she could get there, things would be fine.
But she was due to be somewhere else the same weekend, and she simply would not break her promise on this matter. It was her great-grandniece's birthday weekend, and she had vowed to be there. Her own sister had died ten years back and never met the child, so Ginger was determined to play granny instead. She had already missed a number of important events in this child's life, but her pride in being world's best grandmother extended to all members of her family. She would be there.
Besides, Ginger figured, if it was already pre-destined for her to be at the proper location, and since her Boss had greater means of ensuring that she get there… then it would happen. She would be there too, even if it meant being in two places at once. She would have Faith, something she worried she was beginning to lose.
Therefore, without a clue, she was driving even now toward Lower Tadfield.
ADAM HAD A SUDDEN OVERWHELMING URGE to be back in Lower Tadfield. He sensed, however vaguely, that Rachel was going to need him soon. There was a storm in the air. He rented a car and began his journey.
HE WHO WISHED THE WORLD TO END was also in Lower Tadfield. He'd taken the information given him by Ginger's work and solved the rest of the puzzle for himself. He might not have been able to touch Agnes' book, thanks to the spell the old witch had put upon it, but he could certainly handle Ginger's note cards without trouble. The clues she was unable to fully decipher led him to the very hospital where she worked, and into the birth records. From there it was all mapped out.
He wished he could be rid of Ginger, the arrogant, annoying old bat, but she was still a crucial fixture of the plan. Fortunately, it seemed ineffably designed that she be in the right place at the right time. So he sat back and waited.