Rebel Just For Kicks: Kol Mikaelson [1]

27: Kill or Be Killed

MJ waited for Scott and Immi in the living room.

She couldn't sit with the bodies, but, by trying to escape the bodies in the basement, she was faced with the bodies in the kitchen.

She huddled herself on the couch, trying to make sense of everything.

Mary had to be working with a witch. MJ knew that. Rhi hadn't been able to track Ludo, so the house had to be cloaked, and once MJ remembered that she started to feel the magic everywhere. There were silencing charms cast on the walls, which explained why she'd been so unaware of everything going on while she'd been waiting for Mary to make her tea.

Mary had killed Ludo before the conversation had even started.

She'd known she'd had two wolf kids, and she'd left MJ alive as punishment for lying.

Punishment.

Mary had called it education.

She wanted to prove to MJ that she was alone, and that, until MJ accepted that, until she started acting sooner, and with less regret, she would always lose.

MJ wasn't good at losing.

She was a perfect student. She'd never failed anything mortal in her entire life, yet, on the supernatural side of things?

She felt like she was always failing.

She didn't want to fail anymore.

She shouldn't have been failing. She was a good witch. Learning from Rhi had proven that MJ could do ancestral magic if she wanted to, she could master things quickly if she had the pages to study. She could write spells for Christ Sake!

Rhi didn't know how to write spells!

Rhi just used Grimoires!

If MJ stopped freezing and actually took control, maybe – maybe the people around her would stop dying.

"Where is he!" Immi burst into the house, Scott right behind her.

"The basement," MJ couldn't look at them.

She'd sent a note with the address to Rhi.

A location and a message that made it clear Ludo was dead without having to write the words out.

Scott went to follow after his storming wife, then hesitated, watching the slow tears roll down MJ's face, before taking the house in properly.

The living room had a stack of shelves next to a heap of boxes.

The shelves had glass over them, large porcelain puppets behind the glass, watching them.

All of them were dressed in outfits from the Middle Ages, and two blond ones caught MJ's eyes. They felt like they were watching her. Both blue-eyed, though one was slightly greener, and one was a boy, while the other was a girl. Dressed like Nobels.

She blinked and looked away.

Dolls gave her the creeps.

Mary's unstable disposition replayed in her mind.

The ease of which she'd killed thirty-six people.

MJ could've stopped it.

Why hadn't she just siphoned Mary?

She could've died.

She knew that was the reason why, but it was such a selfish reason.