Aallotar [Good Omens]

Fourteen - Secrets Never Make Friends, Only Enemies

At school the next day, Ronny, the idiot, behaved much differently toward Olly, leaving the girl slightly confused but overall content with this new arrangement. However, anxiety claimed her whenever she saw his face and was reminded of how bright his eyes were when flames illuminated them. A chill ran up her spine when she entered the classroom and caught his gaze. She did her best to ignore him.

All throughout the night, she could only think of that moment. The lack of control. The voices. Was she going crazy? She thanked the heavens that Crowley interject because who knows what she would have done...

Another shudder racked her body, and she did her best to watch her teacher write equations on the front board.

-

After she was dismissed from her final class, Olly stood at the front of the school while the rest of the students rushed out from behind her like water from a dam. She debated on whether to return home or to Mr. Fell's bookshop. What would the man say to her about their last encounter? Olly was unsure if she could handle such an awkward conversation because she didn't even know the reason behind her hasty departure.

But Olly wanted so badly to be surrounded by the warm colors of the shop and the strong, sweet smell of cocoa and old books. 

Screw it, she convinced herself, I'll tell him that I had to get home to help my grandma or... something. Mr. Fell was such a kind man and lying to him didn't feel right, but there was no truth to tell. Olly had simply left, whether it be for some strange reason unknown to her or not.

She tightened her red raincoat around her chest and began the journey to Mr. Fell's shop.

-

"Mr. Fell?" Olly called out into the empty shop. Well, not really empty. There were a handful of shoppers perusing the bookshelves and doing their best to pull books from beneath towers of other novels without knocking them down. A few glanced Olly's way when she called out, but Olly took no notice. "Are you here?" She ventured onward into the back of the shop, hoping to find the well-dressed man sipping tea and reading a withering book.

But there was no one; only dust. Well, he has to be somewhere, Olly reasoned. She continued to search the shop, climbing up a tight coil of spiraled stairs. Much like the rest of the shop, there were books stacked on each step, and Olly began to suspect that the shop would soon burst if any more books were added to it. She tip-toed past them and soon came upon the dimly-lit second floor. It felt strange being up there only among the shelves and darkness but all too thrilling, for she had never even considered wandering up there before.

At the middle was an atrium and, high above that, a glass dome letting sunlight shine down upon the heart of the shop and its customers. She leaned against the railing that lined the circular opening and stared at the tops of people's heads, thinking of how funny it was that none of them knew she could see their bald spots or the weird way noises pointed outward.

"Um. Ahem," said a voice at the front of the shop. Olly recognized it immediately. "I am so sorry, everyone, but, and again, I do apologize, I need all of you to leave the shop. I have some... personal matters at hand that need to be dealt with, so your cooperation would be greatly appreciated."

"And who're you?" asked a customer.

"The owner of this shop," replied a different, colder voice. Olly removed her backpack and drifted along the rail. She knelt down onto the ground in an attempt to get a better look at the front of the shop.

"Any and all purchases can be made at the register, but, if you are not buying anything, please leave. Thank you very much." Reluctantly, people placed down their books and exited the shop under the constant glare of a red-haired man.

Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell!

"Oh, I do hope I wasn't too rude," Mr. Fell fussed. Mr. Crowley shrugged and sat on the large couch.

"Well, it is your shop, angel," Mr. Crowley muttered, his attention drawn to a bottle of wine hidden beside the couch. Olly felt her heart warm at the pet name Mr. Crowley used. He and Mr. Fell would make a wonderful couple, she believed, but she scolded herself for making assumptions.

"I know," Mr. Fell grumbled.

"So," Mr. Crowley said.

"So..." responded the other. For every second they were quiet, Olly grew more confused. She sprawled her arms out and rested her stomach on the dusty floor to get a better view. Mr. Crowley now had a glass full of wine and waved it around, not spilling a single drop onto the antique rug.

"Sooo... what did your friend say?"

"About?" Mr. Fell questioned with mock-innocence.

"For Satan's sake, Aziraphale, get to the point. You sought me out--actually came to my flat and dragged me out of bed just to come back here and not tell me what Hael said? I was enjoying a nice nap, too."

"I'd say twenty-four hours is not considered a nap," Mr. Fell muttered.

"Aziraphale..."

"Okay! Fine. I'm sorry. It's just..." He began pacing the small space. "What I heard, Crowley... I wish I never went."

"It better be bloody insane based on how you're acting."

"It is!"

"Then tell me!"

"Yes, tell him!" Olly whispered, her eyes wide and thoughts jumping to every possibility. Of course, she knew eavesdropping is not right, but right now really didn't seem like the time to stumble down the stairs and say "top of the morning, gents; don't mind me." Her face pressed closer to the bars, the clasp of her wristwatch rubbing against the cool metal.

Mr. Fell stopped his pacing and sat across from Mr. Crowley--exactly where he had sat that strange day Olly visited. But whatever he had to say certainly did not involve general small talk. It was heavier, almost crushing his will to speak. Olly had never seen Mr. Fell so frightened.

"Olly... she's a..."

"A what?" Olly could sense Mr. Crowley's desire to mock his friend. She was surprised his response wasn't followed by, "a unicorn? The loch ness monster?" but, just as Olly had, he saw something in his friend's eyes that told him to refrain.

"Olly is a Nephilim."

It happened so quickly--the wine falling from Mr. Crowley's hand, its contents as dark as blood and pooling onto the rug just as an open wound would. The shop itself seemed to grow smaller, the air grew denser and harder to breathe. Olly's mind spun. Ached. And just as she drew her arms toward her throbbing temples, the clasp of her father's wristwatch broke, and her treasured possession plummeted onto the floor ten feet below.

Time froze. Her gaze shifted toward Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley as their heads turn toward the sudden noise. Surely they knew someone else was there now. Surely the watch had shattered. Olly pushed herself from the dusty floor and grasped for her bag, but as she turned to leave, she met the purple eyes of a tall man.

The shop was gone, all of its contents only a memory. Nothing but white. It was all so... familiar. He was so familiar. But before she could utter a single word, the man placed the palm of his hand on her forehead, and she stood at the center of her bedroom, the stacked boxes towering over her like menacing figures.

----

Finally! An update! More to come soon because I finally know what the heck is gonna happen next.

Hope you're staying safe <3

-Alycia