Chapter Text
An Excerpt from ‘Hexed Bestiary: Concerning All Known of Werewolf, Chimera, Gargoyle, Banshee, and Miscellaneous Others.’
Author: A. Nutter, with addendums and additions contributed as discovered necessary by her Descendants.
Editor: Gabriella Device, Professional Descendent.
Edition the 4th, 1887, Pg. 211
The unraveling of curses placed upon Hexed Beasts is a captivating subject. In lore and tales, there are often intricate avenues of redemption, culminating with a happy end and the formerly piteous soul returned to human form. It is truly unfortunate that reality mirrors these enchanting stories only rarely. It is of paramount importance that I urge the careful Descendent to withstand all temptations of ‘curse-cracking.’
Many perils accompany endeavors to break the curses afflicting Hexed Beasts. Beyond just the physical trials faced, many would-be saviors suffer profound psychological and emotional tribulations. Upon the Beast, the toll of repeated failure can cast a pall of despair and heighten malefic conduct. Repeated unsuccessful attempts may also inadvertently exacerbate the curse, rendering it yet more entrenched and difficult to remove.
Even in the extremely rare instances of success*, the path to redemption is seldom straightforward and the former Beast and their Savior often suffer permanent disfigurement or mental illness. The pages of history are replete with those who, despite their fervent efforts, remain wholly ensnared by the enigmatic web of hexes. Successful or (more likely) failed, all attempts at ‘curse-cracking’ are a sobering reminder of the inescapable nature of such magical afflictions.
*See Appendix A for further information and case studies.
***
“Idiocy!” Another book slammed onto the table. Another furious flipping of pages, growling of frantic invectives. “Unbelievable!” Not finding what she wanted, Anathema yanked yet another book down, slammed it open, and ravaged it. “You two are bound. You’ve just voluntarily bound yourself to a Hexed Beast, Aziraphale! That’s…that’s idiocy! Lunacy! Why?! How did you even manage such a stupid, stupid thing?”
“I’m…I don’t know what that means.” Aziraphale whispered from his frozen position on the edge of the bed. Aurelius was pressed close to his thigh, almost in his lap, hissing in scorn, fear, and victory by turns. The swift changes in the duck’s mercurial mood were more potent than ever, and it was frankly dizzying to keep up.
Aziraphale could see that Anathema was genuinely shocked by how he and Aurelius interacted. Should he be concerned about that? Perhaps he should be. After all, she was the expert, and she had warned him several times about the dangers of fraternizing with a Hexed Beast. But it was also clear that she’d never encountered anything like the two of them before, was searching desperately for some kind of answer in her numerous tomes and manuscripts.
“It means that there’s no getting rid of him now. You two knuckleheads have forged a Hexed Bond. Your spirits and fate are now interwoven. You’ve agreed to share a magical connection. Even if I tried to channel your energies apart, it’s not possible anymore. You’re stuck! For life. Everything, everything he does now will directly affect you – and there’s no way to shape whether it will be good things or awful.”
It took many more explanations, curses and beratements, but after quite some time Anathema finally seemed to regain her normal cold equilibrium. “Well. There’s nothing I can do now. On your own head be it. It’s a terrible idea to keep a Hexed Beast around, but I obviously can’t reverse it. I suppose my work here is done.”
“Oh, but no! Of course it isn’t! We must determine if Aurelius’ curse can be broken, surely?” Aziraphale pleaded. “Won’t you please assist us? As a … a matter of professional interest? Surely, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, even for a Professional Descendent.”
Anathema glared at him repressively “It’s extremely unlikely that the curse can be broken, Aziraphale. There are only a few verified cases of a Hexed Beast being freed in any way other than death a handful of times over hundreds of years. You understand that, right?”
“I, I do. But you know, the records may be incomplete. They often are when dealing with anecdotal or…or controversial…topics over long time periods. Witchcraft, you know, many records were, were destroyed or lost – ”
“YES. I’m very well aware that many of my family records and my family members have been sought out and destroyed by bigots and terrorists. Thank you VERY MUCH for feeling the need to correct me about magical history. ME! I’ve been studying Agnes’ prophecies and learning all the practical applications of magic from childhood, when you just a few hours ago thought it was fairy stories. How could I not defer to your very superior opinion?”
Aziraphale inhaled, offended for a moment by her tone, but then deflated just as quickly. She was right, after all. He may have a love of research, but that didn’t mean that he knew more than a woman who’d both been raised in Magic and studied it as an adult. It was her history, her birthright. It was right to listen to her, to learn from her. And besides that, it was extremely ungrateful to nitpick the tone of someone he desperately hoped could help them.
“I apologize. You’re absolutely right. I…it’s just I supposed I rather was hoping there might be a chance.” Aziraphale sighed, looking down at Aurelius with a quivering lip.
Anathema’s glare softened a little, though she still frowned at him. “There is a small chance. But it really is extremely unlikely. The most likely thing that could happen is you’ll be bound to the Hexed Beast until he – intentionally or unintentionally – ruins your life. Or one of you dies.”
“I appreciate the warning and understand the risk. But I can’t just…I can’t just let him live as a duck the rest of his life without even trying! Please, isn’t there anything you can do?” Aziraphale’s eyes implored her, his hands knuckled so tightly in his lap that they were starting to go numb. And somehow, with gentle, persistent pleading, he gained Anathema’s reluctant agreement.
“We’ll need more details from Aurelius in order to narrow the list down further,” Anathema grumbled. “I’ll set get my notebook. Just for the record, I’m completely against this.”
“Noted. And just for the record…thank you.” Aziraphale smiled gently at her, and Aurelius surprised them both with an echoing hiss of agreement.
****
Anathema was reshelving her books when Aziraphale suddenly thought of a very important question. “Aurelius, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think to ask before. What is your real name?”
“HHHIiiiiSSsssssssSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssssssss” Aurelius sharply pecked NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
“PEACE, Beast! He didn’t know,” Anathema yelled, interrupting the cacophony. “Aziraphale, a magical creature never reveals their true name. It gives others power over them and can be used to compel them into all sorts of things against their will – even to the point of self-mutilation and death. Do not ask him that again.”
“Oh, heavens! I’m terribly sorry, my - I, I had no idea. Of course, I’ll never ask that of you. I promise. Please, my - Aurelius, forgive me.”
“Nguaack” YES
“Thank you. Is…is it alright to continue calling you Aurelius? Or is there another name you would prefer?”
F.I.N.E.
“Thank you,” Aziraphale sighed. “This has all been so strange. Why were you even at that duck pond?”
W.A.T.R. M.O.N
“I’m sorry - water? mon? I –”
“NGQUACK!” Aurelius pecked waspishly at the alphabet some more.
M. O. O.N.
“Oh! Oh, the moon, I see. Sorry. Um, we were there during the day though? I distinctly remember being awoken at an unspeakable hour and missing breakfast and lunch on the occasion.”
“HissSSSSsss” W. A. T. R. M.O.O.N. M. A. N.
Aziraphale groaned in frustration. Waiting for Aurelius to carefully peck out single letters was excruciating, especially since the answers didn’t make sense. “Anathema, this is torturous. Isn’t there any better way to communicate?”
“Oh, now you want my help again? I thought you’d decided to do an entire interrogation yourself,” Anathema deadpanned. But she seemed to take pity on him as he flushed in embarrassment. “Why don’t you just let me get some of the basics, ok?” Without waiting for a response, Anathema began to barrage Aurelius with brutal efficiency.
“Do you change back into a man during the full moon?”
YES NO YES
“Do you change back into a man?”
YES
“When?”
N. I. T. E.
“And what are the conditions of changing back?”
M.O. O. N. W.A. T.E. R.
“What kind of moon?”
A. N. Y.
“Hmm…and what kind of water?”
S. T. I. L. L.
“Ok, then, let me just –” Anathema had been making rapid notes in her little book. “Do you have to be in the water to transform?”
YES
Anathema continued in the same vein for about 20 minutes, coming up with and reshaping questions faster than Aziraphale could even process the answers. At the end of that short time, she’d parsed out a great number of details. Any still water on any night with any moon would do for Aurelius to transform back into a man temporarily. He was uncertain how long his curse had been in effect, but at least several years. Maybe even over a decade. Unfortunately, he also didn’t know who’d cursed him, or why, or how to break it.
They had been able to siphon out enough details that Anathema was busily riffling through her books and noting down potentially matching categories in an attempt narrow down the dozens of different origins of Hexed Beasts (and the most likely means to break the curse) into those that fit the characteristics Aurelius displayed and remembered.
There were five or six main contenders, and Anathema explained them all to Aziraphale as she went. Aziraphale found it fascinating to watch her work. Equally fascinating to realize that he was now, utterly and completely, a believer in witches and magic spells. So much so, that he itched to pick up the magical textbooks and burrow into them for hours. Was it possible to learn to be a witch, at his middle age? A thought best left for another time, surely.
“How do we find out which is correct?” Aziraphale asked, eventually.
“I think we have enough to go on for now,” Anathema said with a satisfied smile. “We’ve done a lot in just a few hours. I’ll reach out to my mentor, hopefully she’ll be able to offer further guidance. In the meantime, let’s all get some rest.”
Aziraphale sighed in relief, heaving himself off the edge of the narrow bed and stretching his back and neck until they cracked deliciously.
“That sounds like a wonderful plan, Dr. Device. You’ll notify us once you hear something, then? Aurelius, shall we get on home? It’s rather late and, I must admit, has been a very trying day indeed.”
Anathema’s eyebrows shot up over her spectacles before she carefully said, “You’re planning to take Aurelius back home with you? He can stay here in the workshop. It’s probably safer that way, even if you are still…bonded.”
“Oh, I, well, I - ” Aziraphale stuttered, “I assumed…” He turned to Aurelius contritely. “I should have asked instead of assuming, my dear fellow. Would you like to come back to mine? Of course, I understand if you’d rather not. But…you’re welcome to stay.”
“NggsssQUAK.” Aurelius smirked wickedly at Anathema, a deliberate swagger in his step as he waddled over to Aziraphale’s side.
Anathema snorted, “Ego. Massive, massive ego.”
****
Anathema’s fiancé, Newton, was an agreeable, awkward sort of fellow who had meekly arrived, picked them up, and delivered them home without question once summoned. Aziraphale appreciated the quiet, inconsequential chat about weather and computers (of which he knew almost nothing) during the drive. It gave him a chance to believe that this was fine – that his daily life could blend with this new, magical knowledge somehow. If a stolidly average man like Newton could do it, surely he could as well.
Once home, he had clumsily asked Aurelius where he’d prefer to sleep (no longer comfortable shutting his friend up in the bathroom at night). The duck-man had chosen Aziraphale’s reading chair and quacked a quiet thanks after being lifted to the cushion.
“Good night, dear boy,” Aziraphale whispered, gently stroking the feathered head as Aurelius nuzzled against his hand. “Sleep well.”
“Nghkk.”
Aziraphale usually avoided sleeping as much as he possibly could. But he had no bad dreams that night. No wrongness. And no enigmatic whispers of warning in his spirit.
It was the best sleep he’d had in ages.
****
In the morning, a panicked self-consciousness enveloped him. It had been easier when he could pretend that Aurelius was a pet. He could stroke him, whisper little sweet endearments, tease him…and now that felt extremely embarrassing and inappropriate with the knowledge Aurelius had been human on the inside all along. Aziraphale lingered in his bed, fretting over every interaction, much longer than his usual rising hour.
It's not going to be any better from hiding from him. You invited him to stay with you. He is a guest. Get up and go make breakfast like a civilized host. Oh, dear…
Eventually, he managed to force himself up, dressed mechanically, and yanked the bedroom door open before he could reconsider.
Aurelius was waiting in the living room, sitting quietly. Their eyes met, and both glanced away immediately.
Well, at least he’s feeling the awkwardness too.
“Um…good morning, my – ahem – Aurelius. Good morning.”
“Hissss”
“Yes, I slept quite well, I think. Yourself?”
Aurelius kept his gaze averted but fluffed his neck and back feathers in a small wriggle, “NGk hisss.”
“I’m very glad to hear it.” They both stood uneasily for another moment, carefully examining their feet.
“Tonight…um, that is. I was looking into ponds and lakes nearby. There’s a national park about 20 minutes from here that we could visit tonight. If you’d like. The moon is still half full.”
A rush of something slammed against him, and Aurelius stared at him in shock before hissing a dazed acceptance. Aziraphale smiled, timidly. He was nervous. Why? He rushed onward - “Um…breakfast? Would you like any pancakes?”
“NgQAUCK” Aurelius sniffed in disdain and made a gagging motion with his beak.
“Here now! I admit I do have a fondness for sweets. But I’ll thank you to mind your manners if you want me to cook for you anymore, thank you very much!”
They both laughed, Aurelius hissing a conciliatory apology. And the rest of the day passed easily enough with shared meals, light bickering, and Aurelius watching television while Aziraphale read on the couch.
****
Aziraphale had no experience with what a person might want if they had been trapped in a duck’s shape for years during their brief transformation time. But he knew what he might want in such a situation – a large tin of biscuits and a thermos of hot tea. The nights were damp and chilly at this time of year, so he also brought a couple of large, fluffy tartan blankets. And now, he and Aurelius were sitting on an aged bench, waiting for the sun to set, and hoping that the lonely park would soon be free of other patrons.
They lounged companionably, Aziraphale reading aloud from his most recent acquisition. It was a slim, comedic collection of memoirs by an Iranian immigrant. There was a particularly delightful tale about her uncle’s obsession with bizarre American exercise gadgets which made Aurelius gurgle and hiss with laughter. The time passed very pleasantly. And eventually the sky grew too dark to read comfortably and the single lamppost flickered awake.
Aziraphale and Aurelius waited in growing tension as patrons slowly trickled off the grounds. Finally, the last visitor besides themselves packed up his fishing gear and grumbled away up the path. A little longer until the night grew solid and quiet.
Then, at last, the odd pair walked together to a muddy bank. The half-moon reflected coldly on still water.
Aurelius hesitated at the edge, looking up at Aziraphale with worry. “NgQquak?”
“I…it’s alright. I’m not afraid of you, I just…I’m just worried about, well the entire situation, I suppose. It’s untraveled ground, isn’t it?”
“hisssssss.” Aurelius briefly stroked his neck along Aziraphale’s calf in comfort, then waddled forward and paddled off into the middle of the pond. A heavy fog seemed to bubble out of the water around and beneath him, swallowing him up, roiling upward into the sky then outward to the banks, obscuring all sight.
Aziraphale held his breath, eyes straining for a glimpse of Aurelius. Was he doing the right thing? Was Aurelius-the-human going to be a good person? Or had he been tricked again and was now in an even worse position than before? Not just host to a Hexed Beast, but bonded? He couldn’t stop wringing his hands, shoulder blades so tightly pressed together they ached.
After a moment of eternity, a tall shadow moved out of the water towards him.
Why didn’t I bring a torch?
“Ah-” the voice cracked with rust and coughed heavily before trying again. “Aziraphale?”
Breathe. Just Breathe. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine.
“I’m…I’m here! I’m just…I’m right here.”
The figure stepped out of the water and the fog revealing a tall, angular man. His face, what wasn’t swallowed in shadow, was obscured with an unkempt beard. He was extremely skinny, and his hair was long and dark. But the eyes…his eyes were almost identical. Too bright, too yellow to be human. The same beautiful gold and staring with the same silent, steady gaze Aurelius always used when communicating something important.
Oh! There you are.
Aziraphale reached out a hand toward the man.
An offer.
And Aurelius grasped it tightly.
****
They walked back to the bench in silence. Aziraphale couldn’t stop shooting stunned glances at the man, who in turn couldn’t seem to bear looking at him at all.
They sat in silence.
In silence, Aziraphale offered the thermos.
In silence, it was accepted.
In silence, Aziraphale held out the biscuit tin.
“Arrggm, No. No, thank you.” His voice was still cracked with disuse, but Aurelius smiled a little nervously as he spoke.
“Oh, are you certain? They’re really very good. Can I tempt you to try just one?” Aziraphale shook the tin encouragingly.
“Nghg, not really my thing. Sweets. Your thing. You go ahead.”
Aziraphale was a little taken aback, but smiled gently and nibbled a biscuit.
The awkward silence returned. Aurelius was broodily looking across the moonlit water and Aziraphale couldn’t help but linger over the man’s wild appearance. His hair, though messy and tangled, was revealed to be a lovely dark auburn in the lamplight. His clothing looked as if it had once been a high-quality suit but was now thin with age and possessing several holes and rips. Bare feet and ankles poked below the ragged hemline of his trousers.
He's been wearing the same clothing for years, I suppose.
“See something you like?” Aurelius drawled, suddenly fixing Aziraphale with a glare. Aziraphale blushed with shame – surely, he knew better than to stare? He must have made Aurelius very uncomfortable. Aurelius was now examining him frankly in reciprocation, and Aziraphale felt oddly distressed. He knew he presented a rather unusual sense of style. He hoped Aurelius didn’t think him too frumpy.
As if that matters. What an idea.
“Hmmmm,” Aurelius didn’t smile, but the glare had softened into a mocking sneer. “You look the same. A little shorter than I thought.”
“Well, I’m afraid I had no idea what I thought you might look like.”
“Yeah? None at all?”
“Well, I did think you might be rather more…transcendental. I’m afraid you’re just…ordinary.”
“Hsss, ordinary. Righ-t. Just for that, I’m not sharing any of the tea with you!”
And their sudden, shared laughter chased away the awkward silences.
Aurelius smirked at him. “Though…if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, perhaps tomorrow night you could bring a razor and a brush? I’m ‘fraid to even face my sad, ordinary, reflection.”
“Of course, that wouldn’t be any trouble at all! Or, why don’t we head back to the flat and –”
“I’ll be a duck again by then. Only get about 30 minutes this time of month” Aurelius seemed to be attempting to speak lightly, but Aziraphale could feel the flicker of bitterness and pain that accompanied the words.
“Oh, that’s. No, that’s not even long enough for the drive, is it? I suppose…I suppose you turn back into a duck whether you’re on the water or not, don’t you?”
“Ah, yep. Tried that in early days – staying out of the water, hidin’ from the moon, anything I could think of, really. Tried it all, multiple times just in case I’d been stupid the first few. Hurts more if I’m not on the water when I switch back so…learned pretty quick to just stick close to a pond.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed out in dismay, “that sounds…unpleasant.”
“Nggh, yeah. It is. But you sorta get used to it, eventually. The longest I get as myself is around an hour on the nights with the full moons. The less moon, the less time I get. No moon, no man.” Aurelius sprawled on the bench, waving a hand carelessly at the sky.
“I see. Well…tomorrow a shave and…perhaps we can find a location close enough for a spot of dinner?” Aziraphale said, striving to match the nonchalant affect Aurelius was clearly attempting.
They spent the time they had left sharing the blankets and chatting about Aziraphale’s schedule for the coming work week, movies Aurelius would like to watch during his hours alone, and how they might set up a better communication system at the flat. It was decided that they’d continue using the alphabet board for now, but Aziraphale had an idea for creating a larger “word board” eventually. Finally, silence fell around them again as Aurelius’ time as a man rapidly slipped away.
When Aurelius rose from the bench and held out his hand, Aziraphale took it and walked with him back to the water’s edge sadly.
“Crowley.” Aurelius whispered suddenly, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand tightly. Aziraphale looked at him, startled but caught in the golden eyes.
“My real name. It’s Crowley. Just, justdonttellthewitchplease.”
With a rush, the tall man flung himself in the water, the fog performed its strange boil…and a black duck waddled back up the bank a moment later to shuffle nervously beside Aziraphale’s leg.
Be not afraid, my dear. Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from smiling fondly and reaching out, tentatively. The duck hissed a little in relief, pressing up against his palm.
“Hello, Crowley. I’m very, very glad to make your acquaintance.”