Chapter 7
Ollie quickly initialed each page of the contract on the tablet, signing the last part that confirmed he agreed to the services outlined in the previous pages, before handing the device back to the man with a smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Cross. The signed contract will be sent to your email, along with the contact details of the foreman for the job. They will likely get in touch with you later today with further details. But a team should be in first thing Monday to begin clean-up, and to haul away the tables set for repair, while disposing of the two we mentioned were a loss,” Roger Wright from Kings Historical Restoration said as he grabbed the tablet.
The mask the man had used while checking out the room was hanging off one ear, and Roger’s gaze seemed very focused on the left side of Ollie’s face.
The man was obviously trying his best to avoid looking at the bruises on his right side and around his neck.
Ollie was, at this point, very hopeful the bruises would be gone by Monday.
It was Friday already, and they were at the tail end of healing, leaving just a light-yellowish color that was still visible on his skin, but didn’t really hurt.
“Will they be removing the parts of the floor we mentioned that day?”
“That will be up to the job foreman. But I imagine they may want to take measurements, and run the Hydroxyl Generator overnight, before cutting into the floor.”
He nodded. “Makes sense, I suppose. I’ll see you out.”
Ollie walked Roger down to the front door. After shaking hands, he waved goodbye before closing the door behind the man and heading back up the front steps with a sigh.
All the books were officially out of the room, and the majority had already been shipped off. It was nearing noon, and if all went well, they’d have the last of them cleaned and boxed by tonight, if not also shipped off, which would allow him to give his librarians Saturday off.
Ollie paused when he reached the top of the front steps as Annabel appeared.
Her whole existence consisting of slightly transparent shades of white, gray, and black, the British ghost looked the same as the last time he saw her with her large eyes, pert up-turned nose, high cheekbones, and plush lips.
And as always, she was wearing a 1700s-style dress, while her hair was styled up with just a few select pieces left down and curled, as was common back when she’d been alive.
His smile grew wide, as Ollie resisted the urge to try to hug her, and instead, blurted, “Thank you! Really, Annabel, thank you. If it wasn’t for you…” He trailed off, swallowing hard as he worked to shove back the fear that tried to raise up with all that could have happened if she hadn’t come.
“I’m just glad I managed to help.” Her nose wrinkled slightly, as she no doubt also thought about it.
As he looked her over closely, he hesitated on noticing she didn’t appear as bright. Or rather, her body seemed…fainter than normal? He’d swear he could see through her more than before. Ollie frowned on realizing he hadn’t actually seen her since Sunday.
“Annabel, are you…okay?”
She blinked, briefly looking down at herself before saying, “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You are looking a bit more—uh—see-through?” He winced. “Is it rude for me to point that out?”
The ghost let out a tinkling giggle. “I’m not sure if there actually is any etiquette when it comes to commenting on how transparent a ghost is. As I never actually met a ghost before my death, or even after it.
“Regardless, I’m afraid my current state comes back to the reality of me being just a fragment of a soul.
Truth be told, under normal circumstances, I would never be able to even dream of gathering up enough energy to be noticed by the living, let alone physically interact.
But thanks to the boost your very presence seems to give to the ability of any ghost you come across, I was able to act.
“That being said, doing so depleted most of my energy, and it took me a while to build up enough again to even show this much. Though, by all standards, the ‘while’ was far less than what it should have been.”
He wrung his hands together, running his gaze over her again. “So that’s why I haven’t seen you since Sunday? Does it hurt when you are…out of energy?”
She smiled kindly. “I’m a ghost. Well, a fragment of a ghost, but the concept still stands.
I can’t exactly feel pain, or usually anything physical at all, even if I do still have emotions.
I was drained, yet it was more that I was tuned out from the world.
My battery was on empty, but it wasn’t really the physical bone-tired exhaustion that the living can feel.
“As to where I was…well, I was pulled back to my diary, and I basically floated there, unable to move away until I'd gathered enough energy again. I’d say I was almost in power-off mode; aware yet not, with time moving oddly fast. Mind you, again, with you being here, what likely would have taken me years or even centuries, only took a few days.”
“The way you talk about me being like a power boost to ghosts…makes me think it’s not normal.”
She shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s not. As much as a witch with an affinity to The Endless Death can in fact boost the dead, it’s usually not to this degree.”
He sighed. “Right…”
Of course, it wasn’t. Why be normal when one can be exceptional in an area no one really wants to be, he thought sarcastically.
“How are you, Ollie?”
Ollie sighed, as someone once again asked how he was; a question that, as of late, had been constantly thrown his way.
It was one he didn’t really want to answer.
Because he wasn’t fine. He was struggling to come to terms with almost killing someone, with feeling useless, with the possible reality that he didn’t actually care that Mikael was dead, and that his boyfriend had been the one to kill him.
The truth was, instead of worrying that he almost killed someone, he was more concerned about the fact that some part of him enjoyed doing what he had almost done, and that an even smaller part wished Noble hadn’t stopped him…
And he was starting to worry that the disgust he felt over it wasn’t real, and was actually just him trying to live up to what he thought he should feel about it.
“Why am I going to tell him alone again? You are his familiar,” Noble pointed out as he stretched and relaxed back in one of Ollie’s kitchen chairs.
“He’ll take the news better from you.”
“That just sounds like an excuse to get out of telling him.”
Red hmphed. “It’s a perfectly valid reason for you to tell him.”
“I don’t really see how me telling him over you will make the news that an entity, likely on a whim, decided to hop a ride in his mind and personally tempt him, any easier to digest. Because based on your sources, and my understanding of how shit works, that is what happened.”
Really it was the only explanation they had. But then, who could really understand the whims of the arcana. They were beings of immense power, and as far as he knew, endless life…
“Yes, and it happening once increases the probability that it will happen again. I was informed that the arcana will sometimes select a few witches that are bound to them and—” Red’s snout scrunched up. “—entertain themselves.”
“Yeah, I am not going to word it that way.”
“Probably best you don’t.”
“I am questioning why you haven’t connected Ollie with whoever your sources are, as I'm guessing they are either witches or other familiars.”
“As the days of covens have long been over, thanks to your kind, it is better for his development that he doesn’t get used to having others of his kind to fall back on. That he discovers things at his own pace, rather than it being handed to him.”
“I won’t take any blame for the fall of covens, as by my estimate, they were long gone before I was born, let alone before I became a witch hunter.
But I feel I should point out that he was almost stabbed to death by a serial killer because he ran off on his own, based on advice from his grimoire, and that having a little outside help would probably benefit him. ”
The familiar winced. “Right…training, it’s time for training. And to find out who his last affinity is to.”
Noble wouldn’t say he was exactly surprised to find out Red was sure Ollie would have three affinities. Most witches had two, but those of stronger lines, like Ollie’s, usually did have three. “I’m guessing three is common for Cross witches?”
Red simply nodded.
“Considering that him healing you is the only reason you are still breathing, shouldn’t we assume his last is to The Merciless Healer?”
“I don’t know. He really isn’t developing normally, so I figured, it’s best we just outright test for it.”
“Can’t fault that logic.”
The cat cocked his head, and one of his ears twitched, before Red announced, “He’s coming, good luck.” He then took off, disappearing further into Ollie’s living quarters.
“Coward,” Noble grumbled under his breath with a sigh. Oh, he was already regretting agreeing to do this alone.
Wait!? Had he agreed?! Or had Red just explained away anytime he pointed out him being there or not probably wouldn’t make a difference.
Fucking familiars…