Chapter Five
Two weeks had passed since Murron's encounter with Rose, and so far, there hadn't been a peep. Crowley continued to come and go at random, though with far more caution than before. He knew something was on the rise. His playful moods had grown fewer and fewer. Murron often found him pensively gnawing on the knuckles of one hand, his eyes focused on something very far away.
Meanwhile, the rest of the world was quickly falling to pieces. Reports of freak weather patterns, animals dying or behaving in strange ways, and escalating crime rates poured daily from the television and newspapers. Many people were shouting about it being the end of the world, and they would be right. The other times Murron ventured out, she found countless rows of Bible thumpers linging the streets, bearing signs of 'Repent!' and 'God is Here!', and shouting at anyone who made the mistake of crossing their path. If she'd kept her distance from them before, she tripled those efforts now.
Demon sightings grew in terrifying numbers, as did the level of mysterious deaths. Crowley had revealed the causes for those deaths: demons hunting for meat-suits and souls for Lucifer. At the mention of the infamous fallen angel's name, Murron couldn't quite believe it.
"The demons against you, they're siding with Lucifer?" she asked, incredulous. Crowley nodded.
"I seem to be the only one with any sense around here, which isn't at all unusual," he replied. "Everyone else thinks Lucifer will favor the demon race once he's won, but I know better. He might be our technical creator, at least according to the loyalists, but he has no love for demons. We're just human souls gone corrupt and we both know how he feels about humans."
"If I'd known it was Lucifer, I would have warded against him, too. Why didn't you say anything?" Murron asked.
"Lucifer won't sully his hands looking for me. I'm but a very unimportant speck in a very large problem. Oh, if he manages to pull this off, he'll certainly come for me then. I hold a title in Hell. I was Lilith's right hand man for a space before all this started. Now I'm more than famous: I'm infamous."
"So, it was Lucifer's supporters who torched your house?"
"Yes," Crowley nodded. "Once the legions got wind of what I'd done, it was only a matter of time. I thought I'd dodged them by agreeing to your deal, but obviously that wasn't the case."
Murron overlooked the mention of her deal, preferring not to think of his accepting it simply as a means to an end. She was neck-deep in it now; there was no point in protesting his original reasons. Now he was more dependent on her protection than ever. She chose to focus on that, rather than what could've been the case had he been able to hold his own completely against Lucifer's loyalists. She understood now the severity of the situation and vowed to do everything in her power to ensure Crowley's security. He hadn't been the only one making an investment that first night!
Murron placed a supportive hand on Crowley's arm. "So long as you're under my roof, I'll do my best to keep you alive. I know it might not mean much coming from a witch and a new one at that, but -"
"But nothing," Crowley interjected. "It does mean a lot, I swear. I don't want to think about the alternative."
"I'm going to assume you're referring more to personal comfort than personal preference?" Murron quipped, eager to raise the mood to the usual levels of mirth. Crowley grinned a bit at that. "It's okay. I'm not offended." She winked at him, encouraging the weak grin to grow wider and more like his usual expression. "That's better. Now," Murron leaned in earnestly, "what happens now?"
"Funny you should ask me that," Crowley said. "I do have to get back out there. Something I'd left stewing on the backburner has proven fruitful; I need to address it before it's too late."
"Can I ask what it is?"
"You can."
"Will you tell me?"
"Maybe."
"How about if it works out and you get back alive?"
"Deal."
"Where's my kiss?"
At that, Crowley laughed, genuinely amused by her response. Murron shared his laughter, red in the face at how easily that had come to her. Normally he'd been the one doing the play-flirting. Still, she had to admit that it was liberating. And grand fun. So amused by her own wit, Murron was shocked into utter silence when Crowley leaned over and placed a very soft kiss on her mouth. When he drew away, it was but a few inches. He smiled in that slow, almost seductive way and murmured, "Now it's a deal."
Before Murron could react, he was gone, leaving her alone with her burning cheeks and quaking knees.
During Crowley's absence, which was already proving longer than the last one, Murron put her plan of severing ties with her coven sisters into action. She choose a neutral spot - a combination coffeehouse and eatery in the shopping district downtown - and invited them all to meet her for tea.
Aside from Rose, there were three others: Angela, Corrine, and Beth. Corrine held the prestigious title of High Priestess in their little coven, with Beth her right-hand, go-to witch. If Corrine couldn't be reached for anything, it was Beth who took over. Because Murron was the latest addition to the circle, Rose had been more or less assigned to mentor her. It wasn't that Corrine couldn't be bothered, it was just that she possessed a very inflated opinion of herself, both as a woman and as a witch.
Corrine was one of those effortlessly beautiful women who knew it and never shied away from letting others know it, too. Before Crowley, the women would sometimes go out, always with Corrine in the front like the most popular girl at school. That mentality had remained with her, which rankled Murron incessantly. If it hadn't been for Rose, Murron would never have agreed to the initiation in the first place.
As for Angela and Beth, they were borderline competitors for Corrine's approval. Neither seemed to dislike Murron, so she got on with them a lot better. Still, it had been frustrating to be in a coven that might as well have been the cast for Mean Girls. Murron expected this meeting to give her a splitting headache, but it had to be done.
Rose was already there with Angela when Murron arrived. Rose waved her over to a table in the back of the cafe. Murron crossed the short length of the dining area and slid into the booth beside Rose. Both Rose and Angela leaned in, eager to get a preview of what Murron had gathered them all for. Murron assured them she'd tell them everything once Corrine and Angela came. In the meantime, they each approached the counter to order their drink of choice, then sat down to wait for the rest of the coven to appear.
Fifteen minutes later, Corrine swept into the cafe like a queen with Angela close behind her. Corrine, ever the dramatist, was dressed to the nines in stereotypical witchy attire: broomstick skirt, open-toe sandals, and flowing peasant blouse. She'd even gone so far as to tie a decorative kerchief in her hair. The hoop earrings she wore were wide enough for dolphins to jump through and they danced everytime she tossed her head, which was often. This particular style had always appeared terribly artificial on her, unlike Murron who'd been sporting it since high school. It was clearly a case of what wore whom first: the clothes or the person.
"Blessed Be, sisters," Corrine greeted them, her voice heavy with effect. Beth echoed the greeting with enthusiasm, as did Angela. Only Murron and Rose kept theirs soft, preferring to keep their business where it belonged. Corrine slid into the booth, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and sent Angela to the counter with her drink order.
While Angela was gone, Corrine turned her gaze on Murron, who'd been quietly sipping at her tea. "Rose tells me you did the demon deal," she began baldly, causing Murron to choke a little on her drink. "How did that go?"
Murron dabbed at her chin with a napkin before responding. "Well, obviously. I'm healed now."
"I've been thinking about doing a deal as well," Corrine declared grandly. Murron said nothing. "I should. It's almost a rite of passage for a true witch."
"Perhaps a rite of passage for a black practioner, sure," Murron remarked off-handedly, unconsciously doing a fine imitation of Crowley's head tilt. "But you associate with demons now, don't you?"
Corrine sat up, her shoulders back in a display of pride. "Of course I do. I consult with them regularly."
"Consult?" Murron repeated with a small grimace. "Have you turned magus since we last met?"
Corrine's eyes narrowed at Murron. "What's happened to you?" she asked suspiciously. "You were never this...saucy before."
"I've sold my soul. It kind of changes a person's perspective," Murron replied with a simpering smile. Living with one changed it, too. she thought, hiding her face in her mug as she took another sip. A burning sense of pride caught flame inside her to imagine Corrine's reaction to Crowley, a very high-ranking demon, living in her house. Her. Murron. The least experienced of them all and she'd managed to catch a king. Had her head not been down, all of this would have been telegraphed in her eyes and the smile that made her lips tremble.
"Speaking of demons," Beth started, craning around Rose to look over at Corrine, "have you heard about you-know-who recently?"
"Voldemort?" Murron quipped, unable to help herself. Corrine flicked a cold look her way, then focused on Beth's question.
"Yes, they say he's managed to raise Death. It won't be long now, girls. Soon, that traitor will be caught and punished, as he ought to be," Corrine said, her lips stretching in a sneer.
"I heard he was seen in South Dakota recently," Angela, returning from the counter bearing her drink as well as Corrine's, chimed in, having caught the conversation on the way back. "He's helping the Winchesters. Again."
Murron listened to all of this, knowing full well they were talking about Crowley, with as straight a face as she could muster. To reveal anything about him would put him at risk. She fought the urge to touch the coin as she thought about how he was reacting to this news. With any luck, he was too involved in whatever he was doing to really focus on it.
"I don't know why we're getting involved in it," Rose remarked. "We never used to listen to demons or do their bidding. What's changed?"
"The world is ending," Corrine pointed out sharply. "If we're going to be on any side, it's going to be the winning one."
"But what if they don't win?" Rose pressed. "What if it all goes wrong and we're at risk?"
"We're witches, not normal humans," Corrine returned. "There are more of us than there are of them."
"But -" Rose began again. Corrine slammed her open palm onto the table once, effectively silencing Rose's protests.
"They will win and we'll reap the rewards. Just you watch," Corrine hissed. "By declaring our open devotion to Hell now, we'll be spared when Lucifer wins."
The further the conversation went, the less Murron wanted to be there. Everything in her screamed to get out, to get back to the house and wait for Crowley. She craved his reassuring presence more than ever now. So long as he survived, be it by his own hand or hers, she knew they'd come out of the pending Apocalypse safely. Or as safely as one could when the world was ending and everything was out for your head. Even now the weather outside was changing dramatically; she could hear heavy raindrops beginning to pelt the windows, matching the beat of her racing heart. However, if she wanted to escape, she had to do what she'd come there to do, and be done with it.
"I'm going solitary," Murron declared, her words rising over the hurried conversation of her coven sisters. At that, everyone fell silent; Corrine stared at her as though she'd just announced she'd grown an extra head.
"You're bailing on us?" Corrine demanded. "Just when we're winning?"
"Hey, that's your deal, not mine," Murron clarified, lifting a warding hand towards the glowering woman. "I don't know what you guys have been doing since I last saw you, but I was never consulted about siding with Lucifer."
"You're one of us. It's automatic," Beth said. Angela nodded. Only Rose appeared skeptical and a little anxious at what this news would do to Corrine's already self-righteous mood.
"No, I don't think so," Murron directed this at Beth.
"You're being awfully hypocritical, Murron," Angela said. "You've gone dark side with your demon deal. None of us have done that. If anyone should be on Lucifer's side, it's you. He might actually let you out of your contract."
"I don't think soul contracts work that way," Murron replied.
"Oh, and you're suddenly an expert?" Corrine asked bitterly. "You're still a novice. Without our guidance, you never would have made that deal! You owe us!"
Murron gaped at Corrine. "Excuse you, but I think I would have figured it out on my own eventually."
"Not before you died, I bet," Beth sniped quietly. Murron's eyes snapped towards her.
"That's cold, Beth," Rose said, looking towards Murron sympathetically. "Murron's smart; I think she would have discovered it even without our help."
"Thank you, Rose," Murron said gratefully, though Beth's words still rankled. "Besides, I didn't get into the craft for demons or deals or supporting Lucifer." She directed all of this at Corrine, Angela, and Beth, staring them down pointedly in turn. "It just happened that a deal ended up being the only way out."
"Regardless, you can't really expect us to let you go just like that," Corrine interjected, snapping her fingers for emphasis. "You were Initiated. That's kind of binding, you know."
"Says who?" Murron challenged. "I should be allowed to go my own way if I choose. And I do choose. I don't want to be involved with Lucifer or his supporters."
"But why not? Are you suddenly above that?" Angela pressed. Beth and Corrine murmured assent, wanting to know as well.
"Despite what I choose to do now, I was raised Catholic. I know what Lucifer does, what he means. I don't want any part of that," Murron explained. "If I hadn't fallen off the God wagon, I never would have imagined selling my soul for ten years' worth of perfect health, let alone associating with demons at all."
"But you're in the thick of it now whether you want to be or not," Corrine said, jumping on the only leg she had left to stand on. "Lucifer holds your contract. If you want to go beyond ten years, you'll side with him. Otherwise, you'll regret it. If not from him, then from me." Here her tone lowered dangerously. Despite her flaky personality, there was no denying Corrine's abilities. She'd grown very adept at offensive dark magic and would not hesitate to use it against her own. And while Murron was pretty confident she could handle it, her own magic was still far too defensive and minor to really hold her own against Corrine for very long. Part of her wanted to believe Crowley would step in, but she couldn't depend on that.
Instead, Murron lifted her chin in response to Corrine's challenge. "I might be a novice, but never think for a second I wouldn't take you on."
"You'd never survive," Corrine promised her. "Bad enough your soul is already promised to Hell. I didn't know you were in such a hurry to cash in."
"Who says I'd lose?"
The tension at the table had grown so heavy that other patrons were quickly abandoning their own booths. Only Rose seemed concerned about this, though she did nothing to settle the dispute between Murron and Corrine. Angela and Beth were clearly in Corrine's corner, for they stared Murron down as coldly as their High Priestess.
Deciding she'd had enough, Murron rose from her seat with regal poise, chin still held high, eyes still locked with Corrine's in a silent battle of wills. "I'm leaving the circle, whether you agree to it or not," she repeated firmly. "I'd thank you for your help, but it would be insincere." She cast a dismissive glance around the table, her gaze softening only when it landed on Rose. She offered a mute apology to her, then turned on her heel and left the coffeehouse.
Crowley was still gone when Murron walked through the front door a half-hour later. Admittedly too exhausted to rehash the scene at the coffeehouse, Murron gave silent thanks for that. She put her things on the sofa and trudged into the kitchen, eager for a cup of genuinely good tea. As she passed Crowley's chair and consequentially, the half-empty bottle of Craig, she reached out and snagged the bottle, bringing it into the kitchen with her. Time to Scotch up her tea, she thought, putting the bottle on the counter and rummaging about in the cabinet for her Scottish Breakfast blend.
As the water boiled, she sat at the table, gnawing anxiously on her thumbnail. As if Crowley's being hunted by demons wasn't bad enough, now Murron had her own kind after her as well. What a pair they made! If this didn't form a sense of solidarity, she didn't know what could. She debated adding witch wards to the multitude of sigils already covering the house or at least putting up protective spells to prevent anything from getting in, either magicked or otherwise. Things were getting trickier and trickier, and for all she knew, it would be this way for a very long time.
The kettle's whistle drew her from her thoughts. As she prepared her tea - generously adding a portion from Crowley's bottle into the already potent brew - the familiar waft of sulfur announced Crowley's return. She glanced over her shoulder just as he walked in, looking world-weary and anxious. Apparently, it had been that kind of day for both of them. Wordlessly, she passed him the bottle. He accepted it with a breathless 'Thanks' and took a long swig, not even bothering to fetch his glass.
Crowley plunked himself down on his side of the table, exhaling as though he'd run a marathon, as Murron brought her teacup over and sat down again. They nursed their respective drinks in silence. Speech was almost a foreign language to them at the moment. Crowley obviously knew what had happened with Murron and even Murron had surmised a decent amount of what Crowley had been up to. Words were unnecessary. Their postures said enough: both were bordering on being Quite Done.
After awhile, they looked up at each other and asked in unison: "Long day?", only to dissolve into peals of tired laughter. Another barrier broke between them then and a new sense of familiarity grew in its wake. For now, they were two people in a world that was ending, both targeted by those they'd once considered their own. It finally sank in that they were all each other had, the only things really keeping them from being eradicated from the planet. But rather than depressing them, it added to their weary mirth and suddenly, things didn't seem so grim after all.