Circle

"Practically candle!" he shouted, and began to advance.

In his path, the circle glowed with a faint blue light.

"Er," said Aziraphale, "I think it might not be a very good idea to-"

Shadwell wasn't listening. "By the powers invested in me by virtue o' my office o' Witchfinder," he intoned, "I charge ye to quit from this place-"

"You see, the circle-"

"-and return henceforth to the place from which ye came, pausin' not to-"

"-it would really be unwise for a human to set foot in it without-"

"-and deliver us frae evil-"

"Keep out of the circle, you stupid man!"

"-never to come again to vex-"

"Yes, yes, but please keep out of-"

Aziraphale ran toward Shadwell, waving his hands urgently.

"-returning NAE MORE!" Shadwell finished. He pointed a vengeful, black-nailed finger.

Aziraphale looked down at his feet, and swore for the second time in five minutes. He'd stepped into the circle.

"Oh, fuck, " he said.

There was a melodious twang, and the blue glow vanished. So did Aziraphale.

Thirty seconds went by. Shadwell didn't move. Then, with a trembling left hand, he reached up and carefully lowered his right hand.

"Hallo?" he said. "Hallo?"

No one answered.

Shadwell shivered. Then, with his hand held out in front of him like a gun that he didn't dare fire and didn't know how to unload, he stepped out into the street, letting the door slam behind him. It shook the floor. One of Aziraphale's candles fell over, spilling burning wax across the old, dry wood.

***

Good Omens - Saturday