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On The Move

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Since the failed Armageddon, Beelzebub and Gabriel had found themselves…well, not on good speaking terms, but speaking nonetheless. There had always been (secret, hidden) lines of communication between Heaven and Hell, something only the upper echelons were aware of, and rarely if ever employed in the past. This had changed. Their main use now was to share information about the Others.

The Others – the two beings that both sides had initially called the Traitors, but who’d progressed to something beyond that. Nobody wanted to speak their names, for fear of drawing attention to themselves, so they mostly watched from a distance. And for a long while they had observed nothing overtly threatening.

But now, to their consternation, the Others were expending a great deal of magical energy.

Each side had been surreptitiously keeping tabs on the pair, in case they were getting up to something potentially dangerous for both. Neither Heaven nor Hell would put it past them, not with what they’d witnessed at Tadfield or in their respective head offices a day later. And now it did look like something was going on. Each side had stepped up its surveillance, and what they’d learned was…concerning. Possibly frightening.

The Others were searching for something. And they weren’t just using their own magic, but human magic as well.

"Thiz can't be good," the demon prince declared, staring up at the archangel. Both had felt these new developments warranted speaking in person. This was the first time they’d met on Earth since Tadfield.

“No,” Gabriel replied, thinking about the gout of hellfire Aziraphale had spat at him the last time he’d seen the disgraced principality in person. He covered the tremor in his voice very well, he thought, when he finally spoke again. “No, it can’t.”