GOOD OMENS 3

FireFenix

Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6 - CONSEQUENCE

The looks on Muriel and Eleyn's faces were priceless as they listened to the angry banter from the rear part of the Bentley, throwing surprised, worried and amused glances at each other. Eleyn mouthed a "damn", and the other raised her eyebrows in agreement. After the shouting subsided, the driver was told where to go by a flustered Muriel, caught halfway through mouthing the sentence "That wasn't in Jane Austin" to Eleyn. The following hour saw a slightly uncomfortable silence settle in the car, broken only by Crowley's occasional hiss at the traffic up ahead. However, of course, this peace and quiet was far too good to be true. At about ten minutes from Sheffield, the demon resolved to tell Muriel and Eleyn about the other worrisome discovery they had made down in Hell. Upon hearing what sort of document they had found, the young cherub's eyes flew open like saucers.

- A Pact of alliance? - she reiterated, taken aback - No, that's completely impossible! -

- I'm afraid we saw it with our own eyes, Muriel - sighed Aziraphale, finally setting the bag of pastries down. Only one Eccles cake had survived.

- Yeah - Crowley hissed, his tone irritatingly sardonic in the angel's ears - And you won't believe whose signature was on it - he rolled his eyes at Aziraphale.

- I did not sign that thing - the angel firmly stated - It was my signature, but I didn't put it there -

- And who did? - the demon challenged - No, hold on, let me guess...The Metatron! - he mocked.

- Well - the angel said between gritted teeth - Yes, if I had to guess... -

- What a surprise... - he growled, his tone beginning to tire Aziraphale.

- Oh, come on! - the angel squeaked - Even through your ineffable thick-headedness you must know that it's not my style! Going behind everyone's back like that? You know I never would! -

- Who the hell are you calling thick-headed? - Crowley hissed, exaggerating offence, sidetracking the conversation so he wouldn't have to admit Aziraphale was right.

- Who do you think, thick-head! - Aziraphale replied, putting his foot down.

Muriel and Eleyn glanced at each other at the exact same time; and their eyes said the exact same thing. Oh dear.

The bantering and name-calling had begun; and it continued for the whole remainder of the road trip, three and a half hours in total. The two passengers in the back, completely driven mad by the continuous kindergarten-ish argument, had spent two out of those hours pondering how to best throw themselves out the window, with minimum injuries if it were possible. Even the Bentley's patience had run out, the radio spontaneously bursting on at one point, blasting Queen's "Friends will be Friends" at full volume. This had earned the car a scold from his master, the music's volume going down as Aziraphale, in turn, reprimanded the demon for being too hard on the Bentley; to which the other had replied with a series of very unholy words. In the meantime, Muriel, after letting out a chuckle, explained the nature of the Bentley to a perplexed Eleyn who'd just asked how the hell it was possible to scold a car.

The back-and-forth between the pair continued until, four and a half hours after the miraculous escape from Hell, Crowley sped up the driveway to Dalkeith Palace, otherwise known as Midlothian House; an elegant brick manor in the middle of the breath-taking Scot countryside. It was surrounded by a neat, well-kept field and behind it stood a blossoming forest, its treetops dyed with autumn's soft orange and yellow tones. The sun, happily perched up in the sky, shone brightly; its rays reflecting off the Bentley's hood as it came to a halt. The second the engine stopped, the two front doors flew open with what Eleyn could swear was a sigh of relief, almost spitting Crowley and Aziraphale out. The back doors, in contrast, opened slowly and with utmost grace, the Bentley even leaning down to ease the passengers' descent. Crowley and Aziraphale, however, did not take notice of this detail as they were much too occupied with shouting at one another as the group began strolling towards the palace's doors.

- Yeah, well, at least I have the correct child! - Aziraphale said crossly.

- Oh, that's where we're going?!- spat the other - Okay, let's go there! Remind me who was the idiot who found the child and didn't say a fucking word ?! -

- I was going to! - the angel squeaked - I was calling you when I...got inconveniently discorporated! -

- Yeah! - Crowley hissed - Fell into the goddam circle at literally the worst possible time in history, the damn fool! -

- It's not my fault they put it in the middle of the room! - he complained - And, just so you know, I didn't fall into it. It was Sargent Shadwell's fault! - he added with a dignified nod.

- Oh, how opportune! - the demon mocked - Another person to blame for your fuck-ups! -

- It was him! - Aziraphale insisted.

- Was not! - Crowley challenged.

- Was too! -

- Was not! -

Muriel and Eleyn followed them at a small distance, the latter's eyebrows knitted in both confusion and annoyance.

- So, what's the deal with those two? - she sighed.

- Long story - Muriel quickly responded, smiling sweetly at her.

- Which you'll tell me all about later over a cup of tea? - Eleyn raised an eyebrow, a grin sprawling on her face as well.

- Obviously - Muriel winked, nudging her tenderly, making both of them break into a soft giggle.

By the time they arrived at the door, they'd already lost track of the argument, catching up to them just in time to hear Crowley spit out one last "Fuck you" before knocking. The door flew open a moment after, interrupting Aziraphale mid-insult, an educated smile adorning his face the moment he saw the gentleman on the other side of the threshold.

- 'ello - the man said with a thick Scottish accent, his gray eyes reddened and full of sorrow.

- Hello, good sir - the angel said, ever the image of politeness, arms clamped tightly behind his back - We are terribly sorry for the intrusion, but I'm afraid we've come with a very urgent inquiry -

- Oh - he sighed, disappointment written all over his features - 'yer not the doctors, then?...They told me they wouldn't come back, 'cause there was nothing more they could do, but for a moment I thought perhaps... - he sighed, briefly glancing upwards, fighting tears of rage, then looking back at the group on his doorstep - But never mind this wee old man's pains...what was it you wanted, lads? -

- We came here looking for a book - Crowley stated - An original manuscript of the Gospel of John. It's our understanding that it was last seen in this house; and we need to see it as soon as possible - he paused - Would you happen to know anything about it? -

Unexpectedly, the man's friendly and tender façade transformed to rage in a matter of seconds. His jaw tightened and his blood-shot eyes opened like saucers. He furrowed his brow and bore his teeth, breathing heavily, before he spoke.

- No, I don't know anything about that bloody thing! - he barked, furious - And I don't want to know! -

- Sir, please - Muriel interjected from behind Crowley and Aziraphale - This is really important to us; it is imperative that we find the gospel. If you know something, anything, you must tell us -

- Is this some sort of joke ?! - he growled - Who the hell are you, anyway, coming up 'ere and asking all these questions ?! -

- Who we are isn't important - said Aziraphale, never raising his voice - We need to know the location of the manuscript, please -

- Look - he breathed, exasperated - All I can tell you is where it went from 'ere; but I can't guarantee it's still there. If I do that, will you lot leave me alone? -

- Where it went...from here? - Reiterated the angel.

- Yes - the man nodded - When I gave it away -

- You what? - Aziraphale seemed almost offended .

- Well, this conversation is oddly familiar... - Crowley muttered, unable to hold back a cuckle.

- Sir - the angel said, glancing at the demon in a very unamused manner and turning to the man at the door once again - Do you have any idea just how historically valuable those pages are? -

- I don't care! - the other snapped - It's not worth my family! -

- What do you mean? - Eleyn inquired with a small voice.

- I mean it's none 'o your damn business, that's what I bloody mean! - the man bellowed - Get the hell out of 'ere before I shoot you in yer pretty little guts! -

He made to slam the door in their faces when Crowley grabbed it out of reflex, his lean muscles distinguishable from under the tight turtleneck, and pulled so that he'd find himself face to face with the man.

- You trust us - he stated rather than asking, locking eyes with him.

The gentleman's expression softened, and his demeanor went back to the kindness and tenderness he displayed when he had opened the door. His body relaxed, and all anger disappeared from his being, leaving sorrow and fear in its place. Aziraphale gave Crowley a look, and the latter rolled his eyes.

- Oh, relax - he sighed - it was far too small a miracle to get noticed -

- For all our sakes, I hope so - he addressed the man - May we come in, please? -

- Certainly - the other responded, opening the door completely and stepping out of the way - I do trust 'ye, do I not? -

The group stepped inside the manor, and they were met by a warm, candle-lit interior which exuded calmness and serenity. The house itself was open-concept, with a welcoming lobby which led the way into the elegant living room and well-equipped kitchen; and the beautifully-designed chandeliers which hung from the ceiling gave the rooms a touch of historic elegance which Aziraphale found quite charming. The dark wooden flooring made an interesting contrast with the light, beige walls; and every now and then one would run into a gorgeous handmade carpet which adorned the pavement. The last- model TV set and modern decorations, however, gave it an edge of class and modern style which pleased Crowley. Muriel and Eleyn were immediately drawn towards the golden-framed portraits which hung from the walls, each depicting an important historical figure from Britain's medieval ages.
Having closed the door behind them, the gentleman who had let them in turned to his guests and called their attention with a polite cough.

- My apologies - said Aziraphale, who had been admiring the chandeliers until that point - I haven't introduced myself. Where are my manners? - he offered his hand in greeting, and the man shook it without hesitation- My name is Azira Fell, I'm a book collector, and these are my...associates - he gestured at the other three - Mr. Anthony J Crowley, Ms. Muriel and Eleyn -

- Nice meeting you, very nice - the man said, shaking Crowley's hand once he let go of the angel's - Names' Harris Scott -

- Likewise - said Muriel with a sweet voice. Eleyn simply smiled and nodded.

- If I may, Mr. Scott - the Daughter of God inquired - What did you mean by the manuscript not being worth your family? - she tried again.

- What I meant - he said - Is that the bloody thing has cursed my family. However much money it's worth, it has brought nothing but tragedy and despair to this house. I just wanted to get rid of it, so I gave it away, ' soon as I could -

- How do you mean, cursed? - Crowley asked, rasing an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

- With death, son - responded Mr. Scott - My father, an enthuthiast of old books such as Mr. Fell, one day became very ill and not long after died in agonizing pain -

- Because he had read the gospel? - Aziraphale said, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

- That's what he'd always say, my old man, in his death bead. The gospel is cursed, he said. Destroy it. Those were his last words. 'Course, I didn't believe it then, I thought of it as a dying man's craze. But now... - his voice broke, tears adorning his already-reddened eyes, and he bit his index finger to stop himself from crying.

- Mr. Scott... - Crowley's voice quivered slightly - Are you... ? -

- No, lad, not me. I never touched the book. Not a big bible guy myself... - he sighed, then glanced up the staircase which led to the rooms on the upper floor - My son...he read it, and now he's... - his voice broke into a million pieces - he's dying -

- I don't understand - said Eleyn, glancing over at Muriel - How can a book...Hey, are you okay? -

Muriel had gone completely pale, all blood drained from her face, and her eyes were wide open in shock. Her breathing was shallow and erratic, on the verge of hyperventilation; and she held her trembling fingers as she took an urgent step forward to address Harris, not without first throwing the other three a panic-filled, quick glance.

- Mr. Scott - she said, her voice shaking like gelatine - Your son; is he baptized? -

- I don't see how that has anything to do with... -

- Just answer the question! - Muriel snapped, making him jump, her usual calm façade faltering.

- Y...yes, he is - he gulped, taken aback by the sudden crossness.

- I need to see him - she demanded, a shaky breath escaping her trembling lips - Now -

- Wh...what? - Mr. Scott said, confused.

- Muriel - said Aziraphale, who hadn't been slow to catch on - You don't think...? -

- I hope I'm wrong - she replied, glancing at the angel - I need to see him, Mr. Scott, please - she reiterated.

Mr. Scott, sensing the urgency in the young woman's pleas, decided to comply. He led the group up the wide, carpeted staircase and into a room on the far right of the upper floor. It was the biggest of the bedrooms, and an it had an imposing full-wall window out of which one could see the gorgeous, green Scot countryside, with its rolling hills and bright blue sky. Between the door and the window stood a large, four-poster bed; and on it a young man laid unconscious. He couldn't have been older that twenty-five, yet his pale and drained face gave him an extremely fragile appearance. His features, though frozen in time, were contorted in an agony such as no mortal illness should be able to cause; and he struggled to breathe, his chest going up and down at a pace so slow that practically no oxygen arrived to his lungs. It was undeniable, the boy was dying. He was fighting for his heart to continue beating, but it was obvious that it wouldn't be in a matter of days, maybe even hours.

- This - Mr. Scott said, eyes full of emotion as he glanced at his son - is Thomas, my son. He... - he struggled to put words together - He's been like this for a couple weeks now. It started two months ago. He was healthy and happy, but suddenly... - he had to stop to compose himself, tears at the verge of falling - He began to feel pain. Not in a particular place or way, just pain. And it got worse and worse everyday, up to the point where he couldn't eat, couldn't sleep... couldn't even talk. Then, one day, he just collapsed, and he's been unconscious ever since - his voice shook as he recalled the events, a tight knot forming in his throat - He's been examined by about all the doctors in the continent, and they all say the same thing: no poison, no wounds, no microbes, no cancer...nothing. There is absolutely no reason for him to be dying, and yet... - he covered his eyes with his hands as tears began to fall.

Without saying a word, Muriel walked to Thomas' side and slowly brought a trembling hand to touch his forehead. Her fingertips had but caressed his skin, however, when she froze with an audible gasp, her whole body going rigid. She began shaking violently and took two steps back at the same time her hand flew to cover her mouth. Tears cascaded down her face and her breaths became shallow and erratic. With reddened eyes full of sorrow and guilt, she glanced at Mr. Scott, then back at the boy.

- I'm sorry - she whispered, her voice breaking into pieces - I'm so sorry -

- Muriel... - Aziraphale said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder for comfort - There was no way you could've known... -

- I don't understand - hissed Crowley - what's going on? -

- It's... It's a consequence... - the cherub said between sobs.

- What? - the demon spat, scandalized - No, that can't be right. A consequence is burning your toasts or a day of bad luck or something...but death? -

- Not just death - Muriel breathed - Slow, painful death -

- What's "a consequence" ? - Eleyn asked, concern for her friend lacing her every word.

- As you already know, there are certain texts and books that are forbidden by God herself - Aziraphale explained, and Eleyn nodded in understanding - Now, angels can't phisically open or read these; and demons, well, they can read them with no consequences whatsoever. But humans who have sworn faith to God have a choice. The problem is that God...she really likes her rules, you see, so when a mortal decides to break them and read a forbidden book, they get a consequence -

- A punishment? - Eleyn's eyebrows shot up in shock - This man is being punished with death for reading a book? -

- Consequences are supposed to be harmless... - Muriel said, her voice shaking - They should never involve pain...ever.... -

- Are we sure that that's what this is? - the Daughter of God inquired.

- Muriel is a scrivener, Eleyn - Aziraphale explained - She has the ability to feel if someone is being affected by a consequence; especially if it originated from a book she herself forbade -

- It's my fault... - the young cherub sobbed, falling to her knees - It's all my fault! This young man is going to die, and it's my fault! -

- Whoa, whoa! - Eleyn kneeled down beside her, placing her hands on her shoulders- How is any of this your fault? -

- I was the one who signed that paper... - she whispered, eyes burning red.

- It's not like you had a choice, Muriel - Crowley reassured her - You were just doing your job. If anyone is responsible for this, it's The Metatron -

- Whatever is inside that book - Aziraphale observed - He is very interested in keeping it a secret -

- Everyone who has read that book has died in agony, every single one of them, because of me... - she continued to cry uncontrollably.

- No, stop it now! - Eleyn tightened her grip on Muriel - Stop it! - she reiterated, then gently raised her head and dried her tears - You are not responsible for any of this, you hear me? -

- Muriel - Aziraphale took a step forward, then gestured as though he was about to click his fingers - Can I perhaps...? -

- No - she cut him off - Miracles won't work - she took a shaky breath - I've killed him - her hands folded into fists and she began to shake - there's nothing we... - her voice broke, and she was unable to finish the sentence, letting her head drop and the tears flow freely.

Mr. Scott, who had been listening in silence until that point, went around the bed and gently caressed his son's hair, tears pouring down with no restraint whatsoever. He turned to look at Muriel with blood-shot eyes.

- I didn't understand a word you said, lass - he whispered to her - But, for what it's worth, I don't blame you - he turned to his son once again - And neither would he -

An absolute, ominous silence settled in the room; a silence which weighed like death itself. Muriel, whilst having been momentarily soothed by Mr. Scott's words, continued crying silently, Eleyn's reassuring hand never parting from her shoulder. A single tear rolled down Aziraphale's cheek as he watched the dying boy wheighing a war which they all knew he wouldn't win. Crowley didn't cry or, at least, his dark sunglasses didn't let it show; but his eyebrows were knitted and his head was tilted down, compassion tugging at his heartstrings. It was in that absolute silence that the Daughter of God heard something, like a sigh or a whisper. She didn't make much of it at first, but as they intensified she began to take notice; until she felt a tingle. It started at her toes and travelled up her legs, past her ribcage and all the way to her shoulder blades. From there it went down her arms and to her fingertips, where it only intensified. Suddenly, the sighs turned to words, clear and discernable.

You can save him.
Heal him, Daughter
You can save the boy
Heal him

A knot formed in her throat, and her heart felt like it would leap out of her chest any minute. Not entirely sure what she was doing, Eleyn took slow, calculated steps towards the bed and, almost without realizing it, raised her hand to the ailing boy's forehead; her palm burning softly. Aziraphale, confused by her sudden change of behavior, had called out to her; but his voice was nothing more than a distant Echo in Eleyn's mind. When her fingers graced his skin, the whispers subsided and only one voice could be heard. It took her a second to realize that it was her own.

-You will be healed - it didn't sound like her usual voice, it was distorted, that's why she hadn't recognized it -Raise, I said, for you are not to die; not today. Raise, Thomas, and be healed-

A thin veil of light emanated from her fingertips and engulfed him completely. Eleyn felt every inch of her body heat up; and then it was suddenly all gone. She toppled backwards as a wave of drowsiness hit her and Crowley, his reflexes always sharp, grabbed her shoulder in the nick of time so she wouldn't fall over. Silence fell amongst them again; but not for long. First it was a deep, air-filled breath; and then heavy coughs. Thomas, feeling the oxygen flow through him for the first time in weeks, opened his eyes and jolted upright, sitting on the bed with his arm over his mouth. Mr. Scott was unable to speak for the following seconds, but soon enough his lips traced an ear-to-ear smile and he threw himself onto his son, crying in happiness rather than sorrow for the first time in a long while.

- Thomas! - he cried, hugging him tightly - Oh, my dear boy! - he pulled away and cupped the boy's face in his hands - You're feeling better, yes? - he asked.

-The pain, it's... it's gone...- he whispered, visibly shook, his movements still slow and weak - It's completely gone...how on...? oh! -

Muriel, her insides bubbling with happiness from the moment she saw the boy rise, followed Mr. Scott's lead and threw her arms around Thomas, laughing and crying at the same time. He was momentarily taken aback, but returned the hug either way. When she finally separated herself from him, she spoke, the joy in her voice like an infectious melody.

- You're alive! - she exclaimed, her tone at least two octaves above the usual - You're not going to die! I didn't kill you! - she paused, then looked at the other two men, one of which held a dazed girl by her shoulder - But how? - she inquired, then turned back to Thomas, smiling tenderly at him.

- Well, it's certainly nice to see so many people so happy that I'm not going to die - he chuckled, smiling sweetly back at her -...but, if you don't mind me asking, who exactly are you? Doctors? -

- Not quite, Thomas - the man in all-black quickly responded - Let's just say we bring good luck and leave it at that, okay? - he grinned - Now, how the hell are you breathing right now? Miracles were not supposed to work, right? - he glanced at the man in beige.

- No, they weren't, but how did Eleyn...? Oh - the pieces suddenly fell into their very obvious place - Mr. Scott - he addressed Thomas' father - You wouldn't happen to be related to any noble families, would you? - Crowley and Muriel were hit by realization seconds after.

- Why, yes - he replied, drying the last of his tears - I am the youngest brother of the duke of Buccleuch; hence him letting me use this manor. We live back in England, you see, but my son adores this house and the countryside that sorrounds it, and he was dying, so my brother agreed to lend me it until he returned from his travels - he concluded his explanation, then gave Aziraphale a puzzled look - Why? -

-Oh shit - Crowley hissed, letting go of Eleyn and pacing the room – Ohshitohshitohshit -

- What? - Eleyn inquired, still slightly perplexed.

- Healing of the nobleman's son near death - Aziraphale stated - It's the second sign -

- Oh, great- the Daughter of God muttered under her breath.

- We don't have long until they find us, not with that big a miracle - Muriel hurried to Eleyn's side, grabbing her arm -You okay? - she whispered at her. She nodded in response.

- Mr. Scott - Crowley was the one to address him this time, to speed up the conversation - I'm afraid I really must insist that you tell us what you did with that book -

- Right, 'course, yes - he rummaged inside his coat pocket - I gave it to a man, he seemed awfully interested in the damn thing, said he was doing some sort of auction down in Edinburgh. I wrote his address down to drop it off on the way here...ah, there it is - he handed Aziraphale a neatly-folded piece of paper - I hope yer able to find it. Seems important to you -

-You have no idea - Crowley muttered under his breath, then spoke up once again - One other thing, Mr. Scott - he said - If I were you, now that Thomas is all better, I'd go back to England as soon as possible - The man stared at him confusedly, and an exasperated sigh escaped Crowley's lips - Look, I know I said we brought good luck but, as it turns out, we also bring a lot of very unhappy beings whom you are better off not encountering when they find this place; which they will. Trust me, get out of here as soon as you can -

- You gave me my son back - Mr. Scott said - I trust you all. If you say we'll be safer in the city, then so be it. I'll accompany you to the door and then begin packing immediately -

All of them went back downstairs and to the main lobby, Thomas included, the latter in a surprisingly decent shape for having practically been in a coma for two weeks. When the door had already been opened and the four strangers made to step outside, the boy's curiosity got the better of him, his voice making them stop.

- Wait! - He said - It's just...being back on my feet, it feels like a miracle...so, you see, I have to know...are you angels? -

- Well - Aziraphale glanced at the other three, then back at the boy - At least half of us are - he smiled tenderly, then spun towards the door - Take care, Thomas, Mr. Scott -

With that, they all stepped into the Scottish fields and walked away from the elegant manor. The sun had already begun going down, making the Bentley cast a small shadow. The four of them walked towards it in silence and slipped inside. The engine roared to life almost immediately, and Crowley slowly drove back to the motorway which would ultimately lead them to Edinburgh. Five minutes into the short trip, Aziraphale broke the silence.

- I'm glad it turned out well for them - he sighed, then eyed the back of the car through the rearview mirror - Eleyn, dear, are you feeling alright? -

- I'm good - she said, scratching her head - Just a bit of a headache -

- That's normal - Crowley said - It was a moderately big miracle, and you're not used to them anyway, so they tire you out. We'll lay low for the night -

- Speaking of which - Aziraphale chimed - I daresay it's nearly time for tea. Shall we find a nice place to eat? I'm feeling a little peckish -

- You've eaten a literal bag-full of Eccles Cakes! - the demon groaned - How the fuck are you hungry already? -

- You, Crowley, have known me long enough to know I'm always hungry - he responded, his temper rising again, as he'd not at all liked the demon's tone.

-Yeah, no kidding!- the other rolled his eyes in annoyance, teasing him - No wonder they made gluttony one of the seven deadly sins! -

-Excuse me?! -

As the pointless argument reignited, and the bantering came back to life, the Bentley's engine roared in exasperation and, in the back of the car, Muriel pinched her nose whilst Eleyn massaged her aching temples.

-Bump that up to mild migraine- the latter whispered to her equally irritated friend.

-We're all going to die - Muriel whispered back with a heavy sigh.


*Right, exams are over, so I will try to go back to my slightly less chaotic publishing "schedule" (If anyone has the heart to call it that). As always, thank you so so much for your comments and for using a few minutes of your precious time to read this. Please feel free to review, for good or for bad!

So, then, the ineffable thick-heads (I think I should patent that one). Those two are going to be the death of both the girls and the Bentley. And, frankly, me. Will they ever make up?...Also, a book so secret that The Metatron himself punishes people with death if they read it? Whatever could be written in that gospel? Wait and seeeee! (Totally not an Aziraphale/Gayman reference)

Hope you've enjoyed and, in this case, had a laugh! Have an ineffably wonderful...Week, week and a half? Ish? Love ya! :)