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045. Moon
It was, as was only to be expected, the night of a full moon. After all, nothing else could have created the mood required. Not that it was truly required by some obscure set of rules or anything, no, but humans felt better about things when they were done the way they had always been done, and since traditions were so nice and often less harmful than creating new ways of doing things, Aziraphale had never bothered to correct them. Especially in things such as this. It would have been disastrous, in his opinion, to let people know that the light of full moon actually weakened their rites. They did enough damage as it was.
Still, he thought it was quite silly as he watched the young man chanting his incantations before a carefully crafted magic circle. He couldn't blame the poor boy for placing so many protective seals, he definitely was going to need them if he wanted to summon a demon, but were all those candles and the black robes truly necessary? And the poor chickens, why did they have to lose their blood too? It didn't do any good. The spell would have managed just as well without it.
Not that the spell was really powerful, no. It was just about enough to call the closest demon in the near vicinity. Or, in the rather unlikely case that the said demon just happened to be taking a week-long holiday just then, whoever he had directed his non-infernal calls to. And however much the spell perhaps tried to target a demon, it was not infernal in origin and was thus redirected to the person taking care of the said calls.
Which explained why Aziraphale now stood in the middle of the magic circle and tried his best to look as menacing as he could. Unfortunately, it was not very menacing.
"I have appeared before thee," he said with his best booming voice. It was a very good booming voice. Gabriel would have undoubtedly been proud of him if not for the fact that they weren't really talking. "Why have thou summoned me?"
"I – I have summoned you to serve my will," the boy squeaked with a slightly nervous voice. "I have sealed you. You can't hurt me." Okay, scratch that 'slightly nervous'. More like 'openly terrified'.
Aziraphale glanced around. Yes, the seals were properly in place – such a rare thing nowadays; so many of the old things had been forgotten. The boy was lucky, really, to have only found such a weak summoning curse. Even if the seals had failed, the worst Crowley would have done might have been some misfortune, more annoying than harmful. And although the seals didn't work on Aziraphale at all – after all, they had been designed to hold down a demon, not an angel – it wasn't like he was going to do anything bad to the poor boy, right?
"Speak thy will," he boomed. Too bad the spell didn't really bind him into the boy's will aside from arriving and staying inside the summoning circle. If the wish wasn't too bad, he might even fulfil it – otherwise, Crowley would yell at him for spoiling his reputation. Of course, if he could encourage the poor boy to abandon such unsightly things and seek entertainment from other sources, it would one be for the best.
"Yeah, yeah, okay," the boy said, now daring to take his first proper look at Aziraphale as – he was convinced – the demon was properly called and sealed. His eyes widened slightly. After a moment of silence, he spoke. "You know, I never expected a Hellish demon to be so…"
The boy was simply staring at the air in front of him. He never said a word.
Though there was nothing wrong with him, the doctors said, he apparently couldn't make any connection with the real world. It was as though there had been an invisible wall between him and the rest of the world that they simply couldn't penetrate. A medical wonder of the worst kind, they said.
Of course, people were quick to think of other explanations, especially those who knew a little of the shady dealings surrounding this tragedy. This is what you get for dabbling with the occult, they said. This is why you shouldn't mess with powers you do not understand, they said. The poor boy had put his nose into things that were none of his business and was punished for it. He had likely lost his mind completely.
Had he been able to speak properly, the boy might have told them he wasn't insane. Really, he wasn't. Although why his mind had chosen to show him Sound of Music on endless repeat if he wasn't was anybody's guess.
Especially since he had never ever seen Sound of Music before.
Crowley looked very, well, relaxed. Tanned and energetic and generally good. Of course, this was what he always looked like; a rich, good-looking bastard who had entirely too much leisure time. It might have been an effect of his powers. Or it might have been simply because he was a rich, good-looking bastard who had entirely too much leisure time.
"Oh, Aziraphale!" he exclaimed as he spotted his friend. "How did it go? Were there any problems?"
"…This is the last time I'm taking your calls."
"That bad, huh?" The demon raised an eyebrow. "What was it this time? Had some idiotic brat sacrificed a kitten for his magic circle or what?"
Aziraphale muttered something unintelligible. Crowley raised another eyebrow in a silent, demanding, 'What was that?'
After a lot of grumbling and mumbling, the angel finally managed to produce an audible response. "He dared call me fat."
"Oooh, Vanity." Crowley cackled. "Getting bad on our old age, aren't we? Look out, Aziraphale – Hell's pension plan is lousy."
The angel's response was entirely unfitting of an angel and definitely not suitable for printing.
Crowley, as was only to be expected, merely laughed in reply.