52. A Spark
R ed walked out smiling, despite knowing he was probably about to die. He did feel some comfort at the sound of Ollie locking the door.
As strong as Red had been at one point, after thirty years of waiting, cut off from Ollie’s magic due to the bindings placed on them both…he was not as he once was.
While he hadn’t been bluffing in his threats to Noble, he could not maintain the barrier that was keeping Ollie hidden, and fight against a witch hunter that was this old for long. His connection with the young witch hadn’t had enough time to build back up. This had come far too soon for both of them.
But if one of them had to die…it would be him, not Ollie. Red refused to outlive another of his witches. Especially Ollie. The young man was his child in all ways, except blood. Red had loved them all, but with Ollie…it was different.
His smile widened as he tracked the yelling hunter down to a large room filled with many desks, bookshelves taking up every wall. Before he even stepped inside, he sent out a surge of magic, knocking the bastard over where he stood.
On the ground, Mikael glared. “Ah, the familiar has come out to play.”
Red attacked without saying a word, his claws sliding out as he stabbed towards him. Mikael rolled in time to avoid him, while jumping back to his feet. His claws sliced into the floor, and the wood started to decay instantly where they embedded.
“Not a weakling like that charge of yours, are you?”
Yanking them free before they caused too much damage to the floor, he ignored the taunt as he eyed the man, who now had a knife in his hand.
While he had yet to learn what other affinities Ollie had, beyond The Endless Death, and likely now never would, he was old enough that he had experience with all of the major arcana. Each of his past witches had given him greater knowledge. Though, admittedly, it had been a while since one had an affinity for The Endless.
“Weak is not something Ollie could ever be,” he stated frankly, remaining emotionless as he leaped.
Mikael tried to back up, but slammed hard into one of the tables. The lamp on it flew off with the impact, and Red used the distraction to strike. His claws pierced the man’s side, Mikael managing to move at the last moment to avoid a gut wound. The hunter shouted in agony as his flesh began to decay from the outside in, even as he lashed out with his knife. Red grunted when the blade embedded into his shoulder.
Holding back his scream as the hunter twisted it, he just smiled at the man while he felt the decay spreading from him. Even if he may die, Red would be damned if he didn’t at least try to take the bastard with him.
Releasing the knife, Mikael grabbed around his waist. His claws slipped free with a shout as his body was lifted up and slammed backwards onto the table. The sturdy wood gave way beneath him, but Mikael fled before he could lash out. Red rolled back to his feet while the dust settled.
Meeting Mikael’s grin with the same calm smile he’d had on his face since walking into the room, the witch hunter spat on the floor. “You Endless Death freaks have always been so fucking annoying.”
Ollie stood with his face pressed to the door, even though the throbbing ache in his cheek worsened at the touch. The pain was all that was keeping him from breaking down further as he stood there listening to the pain-filled screams and the sound of furniture smashing.
The pain wasn’t fading, yet he was starting to go numb with how much he was feeling. Too much…it was all too much.
As another scream reached his ears, Ollie wrapped his arms around himself, his nails digging into his biceps.
Was it Red screaming…or Mikael? Was Red…being murdered…while he was hiding in here? Red was his family… The only family that had always been by his side, yet he hadn’t even dared to unlock the door, or take a step past it.
So many people called him kind, but really, what did he do besides use it to hide the fact that he was utterly useless as a person.
He flinched at the scream that came then, one that could not be mistaken as anything except that of a large cat.
“Red—ah, R-Red.” Sobbing hard, Ollie closed his eyes and slowly slid to the floor.
Sitting there amongst the pain, the fear, the agony, the helplessness, two other emotions began to spark to life—hatred and rage.
As that spark grew, Ollie whimpered in fear, desperately trying to hide from the two unfamiliar feelings that were scorching their way through his body, even as they sweetly beckoned to him.
But then suddenly, as if time had stopped, everything was silent, and he felt nothing. His eyes opened with the feeling that he was no longer alone.
Ollie looked over, his eyes widening as he found himself looking down into his open grimoire. A heart wrenching sob tore past his lips as he read the four words written across the two pages.
Your familiar will die.
“N-no!” he screamed. Then, as if the hands of the clock restarted, everything rushed back. But this time when the burning rage and hatred reared up, the voices calling louder than before, instead of running, Ollie embraced them with open arms.
Red let out a yowling scream as the knife was plunged into his chest, and into one of his lungs.
With teeth that were full of blood, Mikael sneered before viciously yanking the blade back out.
Red dropped to his knees while blood sprayed from his lips. This was not his first wound, but it would likely be his last.
Taking in a wheezing drag of air, tears began to fill his eyes when he felt his strength fail, and the barrier hiding Ollie faded away.
But just as his own fear and despair began to take over…hope came.
Kneeling there, Red started to laugh the moment he felt the truth of the situation. Ollie’s grimoire had finally gone to him. It would…it would get him out of here… Regardless of grudges, it would save him.
“STOP LAUGHING!” Mikael roared, his sneer dropping to a twist of rage.
“Why should I?” He chuckled. “You’ll never find him.”
Red shouted out in pain when the man shoved the knife into him again. He collapsed fully this time as blood began to fill up his other lung.
He was dying…but that was fine. As long as Ollie lived, him dying didn’t matter. Whereas if Ollie had died…Red would have no reason to live.
At peace with his inevitable death, his eyes fluttered closed, only to snap open on realizing that something was wrong.
“No,” Red wheezed. “Ollie, no…” He looked wide-eyed up at Ollie, who had just appeared like a wisp of smoke behind the witch hunter.
There were tears in the young man’s eyes, with more trailing down his face, but the emotions he saw in them weren't right…
The wrongness sent a shudder down his spine. Red stared into the familiar gray-blue eyes and found unmistakable anger, the likes of which he had never seen there before.
He did not have the strength left to look inside the witch’s mind at the moment, but he didn’t need to. He felt it… The emotions, Red felt them all.
Something about Ollie’s mind was very off. This rage…this intense searing hatred was not something he ever thought Oliver would be capable of. Not his Ollie. Not from his bright, smiling, kind child. His child didn’t hate anyone.
Something was very wrong… Yet, as wrong as it was, he could tell it was still him… But how…?
Red’s eyes widened further when flames ignited around his witch. “Impossible!” he rasped.
“You will NOT touch him again,” Ollie growled, the man’s voice shaking as he spoke, but clearly not from fear.
Mikael, who had seemed so sure of himself when Ollie appeared, took a step back, fear radiating off him, in the tightening of his shoulders.
“YOU WILL NOT TOUCH WHAT IS MINE!” Ollie roared. Fire leapt off of the man, landing at the witch hunter’s feet.
Mikael began to scream as the flames jumped, swelling upwards. The man scurried back, patting at his legs to put it out. And it did go out briefly, but each time it did, the fire would reignite within seconds, spreading further than before.
Red stared in horror at the realization that the hatred in his witch’s eyes was growing with the flames.
“No…” He couldn’t… He couldn’t let Ollie do this.
Groaning in agony, Red forced himself to his feet, swaying where he stood.
“Please… Ollie…” A wet cough forced its way out, as more blood came with it. “Please, Ollie. He’s—” Red wheezed, “—not worth it. Ollie… OLLIE, YOU HAVE TO STOP!”