Chapter 5
Noble placed the Seers amulet in the velvet jewelry box and snapped it shut, before tossing it on the top shelf of his bedroom closet and closing the door.
Heading out of his room and down the stairs, he went into his pantry.
The secret door into the cellar was already open, with a sledgehammer leaning against the doorframe.
Picking up the hammer one-handed, he jogged down the stairs, stopping as he reached the bottom to stare at the thick, blood-stained stone chair built into the floor.
Having clipped off and stored the previously attached chains in his shed out back, with plans to melt them down later, Noble had already soaked the chair in chemicals to remove as much of the evidence as possible.
Even with the room as clean as it could be, some stains would never come out. Too many had died in that very spot.
Taking a deep breath, he raised the sledgehammer up and brought it down onto the chair.
There was a loud crack that came with the first hit, a break forming in the stone.
Noble continued to bring the hammer down until all that was left of the chair was a pile of stone pieces, leaving nothing behind to even suggest what had once been there.
Noble stared at the rubble and took another calming breath as he thought about what else he needed to get rid of. The left wall held tools, and the right held more chains. All of it could be destroyed or melted down in some way. The room itself though…maybe he could change it into something else?
Noble nixed the idea as soon as he had it, as it was terrible.
The best and really his only option was to fill it in and seal it off.
Mainly as there was no way he’d ever be able to change the space enough to stop himself from remembering what had once taken place there.
It was like what had happened there had seeped into the very stone, making the space heavy and cold.
Even if he changed it, altered it into something entirely new so no one could suspect otherwise, he would still know.
Noble set the sledgehammer against the wall. Maybe he’d destroy the fire pit next… He winced when Ollie came to mind. Or maybe not, he had a feeling there was a real possibility he’d end up still needing it.
“6pm, November 9th, at your warehouse on 21st Street, would be fine, Raymond.”
“We can meet later if need be, Ollie. I realize it will clash with your closing hours,” Raymond ‘The Reaper’ Deluca said smoothly, his voice, as always, was deceivably kind, considering what his main business was. Not that Ollie knew fully what it all entailed, he just knew of it.
Most outsiders only knew the businessman, and of the casinos and clubs he owned, while those in the man’s own circles, and the authorities, knew full well that Raymond was the Boss of the largest crime syndicate in Boston. Specifically, of the New England Mafia.
Ollie smiled. “No, no, it’s fine. I can have someone handle locking up for me.”
Besides, closing procedures took an hour, and he’d rather not meet up with the man and his associates any later than he had to. Nothing good usually happened after 6pm near the warehouse district in Westerly Heights.
“If you are sure. See you then, Ollie. I do hope you tell me all about the troubles I’ve heard you’ve been having at that time. Goodbye.”
Why did it feel like that last part had been less hoping and more the man warning him that he expected an explanation. “Goodbye,” Ollie murmured, hanging up without commenting on it.
Sighing, he stood up from his desk and stretched, wincing at the slight throb in his back as he did.
The cuts and scrapes were almost healed, the swelling on his face was gone, and his bruises had all mostly turned some sort of nasty shade of green and yellow, even if they were still pretty dark in some places.
The aches were still very present, but otherwise, things were getting there.
At least, his voice was almost back to normal, even if his throat did seem to get sore and tired easily still.
But with this much progress, and it only being Wednesday, he could only hope that by Monday he’d be good as new.
He wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk around the library if the bruises on his face and neck were still there.
Though, he supposed, since the swelling had gone down, even if some of it remained, he’d be able to cover it up with makeup by that point if he really wanted to.
Leaving his office, Ollie took a left out the door, heading to the office supply room on that floor to search for packing tape. He’d come back there for the tape, but had ended up in his office when his phone had gone off. His new phone that was. Noble had helped him replace his old one yesterday.
If only he’d thought to buy tape at that time. For some reason, they’d gotten all the boxes and packaging protection one would need to ship out the books, but no tape, and they had almost gone completely through the library’s supply.
Unlocking the door of the first-floor supply room, which was only three doors down from his office, he frowned when he flicked the light switch and the room remained dark.
He sighed, and knowing that not only would he need a ladder to change the bulb, but also that there were in fact no bulbs in that particular supply room, he turned on the flashlight on his phone instead.
The room could be described in two words: industrial shelves.
They lined the walls, and also divided the rest of the room into three rows.
On the shelves were a shit ton of labeled boxes.
A clipboard with a pen attached hung to the right of the door from a hook, with a full inventory of everything inside.
Making a mental note to update the inventory later, he ignored the clipboard and kept to the left wall as he slowly walked further into the room.
Flashing his light over the shelves as he went, his eyes scanning the labels on the boxes, he stopped midway into the room, and was about to start searching the nearby shelves when something made a sound behind him.
Ollie spun around with a squeak as the light from the hall suddenly became partially blocked. His heart started racing even before his brain caught up with his eyes, but when it did, Ollie let out a frightened scream on spotting the looming figure in the doorway.
As a loud ringing sound started in his ears, he scrambled back, yelping when he slammed into shelves behind him and dropped his phone. It clattered to the floor and plunged the room into further darkness.
When he saw the person reach for him, Ollie cried out, “No!” as tears flooded his eyes. Scrunching down on the floor, he made himself as small as he could with his arms curled over his head.
“Ollie?!” Noble managed to choke out when Ollie let out a scream and stumbled away from him, the man bumping into the shelves. But the witch didn’t seem to hear him, only freaking out further when he reached for him.
Noble hesitated in the doorway in shock, his stomach twisting as he stared down at the now sobbing man who was scrunched into a ball on the floor.
Swallowing hard past the lump in his throat, hollowness spread through his chest with an unearthly amount of guilt as he slowly stepped towards the witch. “Ollie...Baby...it’s me. It’s Noble.”
Ollie didn’t react to him at all, he just continued crying, letting out soft, scared whimpers now as well.
Reaching the little librarian’s side, he crouched down and carefully touched the top of the witch’s head.
Ollie reared back with a frightened cry, plastering himself against the shelves behind him.
Noble held his hands out, trying to appear harmless, as the witch stared at him wide-eyed, his chest visibly heaving. His heart throbbed painfully at the fear he spotted in his little witch’s eyes.
“Ollie, it’s Noble. I won’t hurt you.”
Ollie blinked, and then his already tear-stained face crumbled further, the man whimpering, “N-Noble,” as he threw himself into his arms.
Noble pulled the witch into his lap, holding him tight. “Shh, I got you, Baby, I got you. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re safe, I promise.”
His guilt sat heavy in his stomach as he thought over all he had destroyed and put away, and it only grew heavier when the man just sobbed in response to his words.
The fact was…Noble was just as responsible for the fear Ollie was feeling as Mikael himself.
Just because his morals had somehow risen from the dead, didn’t change what he had done, nor did it make up for it.
But then, nothing he did would ever make up for that.
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, Ollie…”