The Universe's Mixer

There were things that were extremely important to Aziraphale. Saving souls had been the highest point on the list until Armageddon had loomed. Stopping the Antichrist from destroying the world had then taken precedence.

Just below those two ethereal priorities, were his books.

His bookstore had always been a front. It wasn't so much a place to sell books as a place to keep them. His collection held only first editions, and rare books that were not only out of print, but that few, if any, knew had ever been printed in the first place. One of the greatest challenges of his long life was to avoid selling them. There was the necessity of money, and occasionally he had been forced to part with a dear friend or two in order to live comfortably, but somehow or another he always managed to get them back. And when other collectors contacted him regarding a specific volume, Aziraphale always convinced them it was in their best interest not to pursue the search any longer.

For an angel, he could be very persuasive in ways that were far more Crowley's style.

( When the storm hit... )

It wasn't that Howl hadn't noticed the storm. At one point he'd had to protect Calicifer from a leak in the roof until the fire demon was able to repair it. It was just that it hadn't mattered. If the storm had blown them all way, it wouldn't have mattered either. Seeing the tornado in the near distance, Howl had not taken shelter, almost hoping it would just come take him.

His Sophie, and his worlds, were lost to him. The City had defied his and Jareth's attempt to escape. Then it had thought its change of the shop's sign was adequate appeasement. Just because he had always liked the name Pendragon better than Jenkins didn't mean a change in the name of the castle's storefront would be enough to please Howl. Not even close. There was something condescending about the City's attitude. No you can't have a cookie, but here's a carrot instead. As if he was a child that could be placated so easily. The next day, the sign was back to announcing the owner as Wizard Jenkins. The City had made its point. It was in control.

The storm's rage had mirrored his own. Just as the City's current state did as Howl made his way through the ravaged streets. It was broken, defeated, and dejected, just as he was. As he walked, strange shadows followed him, though the usual trail of green slime that normally came with the shadows did not. He was in a genuinely dark mood, and the slime was normally a tactic for dramatic effect. He had no one to demonstrate it for, nor was he in the mood for flamboyant displays of emotion. Who would care? Who would be there to coddle him? He was alone.

Stepping over a fallen tree branch, Howl trudged on, with no particular destination in mind, when a thought occurred to him. This was destruction brought upon the City, not caused by it. He was sure of that. A being, no matter its form, was ingrained with self preservation. It was instinctual. He stopped mid-stride, taking a good hard look at the City around him.

He forced himself to focus. He recalled the past two days to mind. The storm had been caused by magic, powerful magic. Howl had known it at the time, but somehow it had not registered in the haze of rage and depression he'd been in. Now, looking back, he could see it clearly. Someone had given a little back to the City. There was someone else here, someone who was powerful enough to have taken on the City and won the battle. He tilted his head back and laughed at the sky. It wasn't over.

His step lightened as he turned to make his way back to the castle. He smiled broadly at each sign of destruction he saw on the way, delighting in his newly gained insight. It had been beaten. Only for a short time, and likely to bounce back, but it could be done.

Now he just had to find the person that had done this.

Veronica was glad she was nuts enough to carry around a flashlight in her bag with her laptop.

She was out checking on a few facts with the police department about that murder she was dealing with on an intern-like basis. She'd gotten out the doors of the department when everything went black.

EVERYTHING.

The streetlights went out, and when they did, Veronica heard a car's brakes screech, and then what sounded like a huge crash. Car alarms followed. She sighed, looking up as lightning lit up the sky. She was gonna get soaked getting home, and a taxi looked like a bad idea.

She grabbed the flashlight out of her bag, a big mag light, and started walking, blond hair already getting plastered to her head. At least she'd worn boots today. With a slight smile on her face, Veronica found a puddle and jumped in it.

Of course, that was around the time she realized there was someone nearby, watching. That was okay, though. She was a huge dork. And she had a tazer and mace in her bag.