"Damn girl," Queenie says, not even bothering to greet me and Michael as we walk through the front door of Robichaux's. "You two are literally going viral."
"Everyone wants to know who the mysterious couple was at the Hotel Cortez at the Halloween Show," Zoe elaborates.
"They've searched all the guest lists and can't find your names anywhere, which only adds to the craze," Queenie finishes.
"Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me," Madison announces her presence as she enters the main hallway. "There's nothing that special about them," she scoffs, motioning between me and Michael.
"Yeah, besides the fact that he's the Antichrist and I'm the only person more powerful than him," I reply sarcastically. "It's not like we're that important or anything."
Madison rolls her eyes as Zoe chuckles. "Check it out," Zoe says, holding out her phone so we can see the pictures. "People figured out that you were wearing Courtney's brand new line of unisex suits, so now he's getting tons of publicity."
"Concerning how far people will go digging over a couple at a fashion show," Michael mutters.
"Bitch, a hot couple at a fashion show," Queenie corrects him, earning chuckles from us.
On cue, Myrtle rushes into the room, having been on a phone call outside. "Oh, you'd never believe what Courtney just told me!" she exclaims.
"What is it?" I ask, deciding to entertain her by pretending I didn't already know.
"You and Michael are going 'viral'! He said that his new line has taken off thanks to you two, and he will gladly dress you for any occasion in the future!"
"That's wonderful, Myrtle!"
She rushes past us. "I must speak to Cordelia about this at once!"
"Nothing makes that woman happier than fashion," Queenie remarks, watching as the blur of red that is Myrtle rushes out of the room.
"She just spent the last year in hell; I'll entertain her fashion obsession for however long she needs," I chuckle.
"Just so you know, I would totally expose your identities if that wouldn't cause the whole public to realize that you're not even 6 years old," Madison states condescendingly as she pushes past us and walks upstairs.
Michael watches as Madison ascends the stairs, a slightly confused expression on his face. "What's her deal? She seems more irritable than usual."
"She's used to being the famous one," Queenie explains. "She's not enjoying being dethroned; especially since she lost so many followers after disappearing for a whole year."
Michael rolls his eyes. "Of course that's what she's worried about."
"We'll just put a little enchantment on her Instagram to make more people suddenly feel the desire to follow it," I shrug as I take out my phone. "That'll make her happy until the media grows bored of me and Michael."
"Just don't tell her if you do that," Zoe warns. "Or else she'll go crazy on you. Trust me, it's not worth the hassle."
I roll my eyes, my fingers typing Madison's username into Instagram. "I think I can handle one of Madison's hissy fits."
"Suit yourself," Queenie says. "But if she finds out, we'll just say that I was never here for this conversation."
"Same," Zoe agrees.
"Pushovers," I mutter as I place the spell.
......
I walk into the dining room as Zoe and Queenie are teaching a group of young witches how to perform a spell. I look around the table and furrow my brow, not recognizing most of them. What the hell is going on?
This must be a dream. I immediately pinch my forearm and am met by no pain. Okay, definitely a dream. But why the hell am I having this dream about all these witches I've never met?
I walk over to ask Queenie what's happening when Michael steps into the room, except he's different. His hair is slightly longer, he's wearing a long black coat, and a strange short woman with dark hair is by his side.
"Clearly that mantra's bullshit," he announces. The witches all look up, obviously shocked to see him.
"What the hell is going on?" I interject.
He ignores me as he states, "I told Cordelia what I was going to do to all of you."
Zoe quickly throws all of the metal scraps from the table at Michael with her powers. He simply raises an arm to stop them midair, watching almost-amusedly as they float in front of him. He flicks his hand towards the table, and the shards fly at the witches, killing everyone sitting at the table.
The woman steps out from behind Michael, pulling her hand off to show a gun. Before I can begin to react, she fires a single shot, hitting Zoe in the head. Zoe immediately falls backward, dying as soon as the bullet impacts her.
"No!" I shout, unfreezing from my stupor as I race to Zoe's side. It takes one glance at literal war machine lady standing next to Michael for me to decide I don't have enough time to perform Vitalum Vitalis. Remembering Michael's ability to destroy souls, I quickly perform a spell to take her soul from her body, making it impossible for Michael to destroy it.
"Mead, what the hell are you doing here?" Queenie shouts at the woman (whose name I'm guessing is Mead). Queenie slits her throat, which also slits Mead's throat; however, a strange white liquid pours from Mead's throat rather than blood. Mead raises her gun and shoots Queenie, unaffected by her slashed throat.
"No!" I yell again, scrambling over to Queenie's body to perform the same soul-protecting spell.
Just as I finish the spell and am about to move onto another witch, Michael reaches around to grab me by the front of my throat, pulling me to my feet as he turns me to face him.
"Michael, why?" I ask, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
"I've told you why," he responds coldly, his eyes devoid of emotion. His voice is hard and unforgiving as he demands, "Give me their souls."
"I don't have their souls," I lie, knowing that something is terribly wrong with this version of Michael.
He glares at me, then raises his free hand as if he is about to slap me. However, he closes his fist and I scream in pain as my ankle shatters. He releases my neck, and, unable to stand on my ankle, I collapse to the floor.
I lie in agony on the floor, trying to transmutate, but it's like my powers are blocked. How the hell am I feeling all this pain when I'm just dreaming? At the beginning of this, I couldn't feel a pinch, but now I'm feeling my entire ankle being shattered. "Something's wrong," I utter as I prop myself up on my elbows.
"You think?" Michael asks mockingly, slowly circling me like a predator circling its prey. "You see, Esmeray, you are too shallow and naive to see that this is your fault. That I would not be slaughtering your whole coven were it not for you."
"Michael, what the hell are you talking about?" I ask, my pain clear in my voice.
Without warning, he grabs one of my arms, using it to drag me to my feet. He harshly pulls me flush against his side, his cold eyes bearing into mine once more. "You're not even worth my time," he spits. "Give me their souls, and I'll stop hurting you."
"Let me go!" I yell, trying to only put pressure on my non-injured foot. "I don't want to hurt you, Michael."
"Oh please, give me a break. Cut the whole nice girl act. I just shattered your ankle, but you're all 'I don't want to hurt you, Michael,'" he continues to mock.
My brain slowly begins to put together the pieces, realizing who Michael is shockingly acting like. "Satan? I thought I got rid of you, you persistent bastard."
"You did," he replies with a casual shrug. "Michael didn't. And, you know, I can sometimes get to you when your connection to him is active."
Without warning, his hands wraps around my neck, effectively cutting off my air supply. "Now, this is rather entertaining. Especially since I get to bear Michael's form while doing this. I can see those little gears in your brain turning, trying not to see my son's face as I strangle you in his form."
I dig my nails into his arm to the point that I draw blood, but he is not so much as deterred.
"Let me let you in on a little secret, Esmeray." He lowers his voice as he leans in closer to me. "While I'm in Michael's form, I can't do anything that he's not capable of doing. So all of this... he could do this to you in his sleep."
With that, he releases me, and I collapse to the ground in a heap. I pant on the floor, trying to regain my breath in between coughs.
"I must admit, it was awfully foolish of you to allow yourself to get attached to Michael," he muses from above, continuing to circle me. "Hell, I'm only taking on his form, and you're not able to kill me. Imagine if it were actually him torturing you like this. You would just lie there and take it like the weak, lovesick child you are."
"Shut up!" I shout in a hoarse voice, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to focus on anything besides his face.
"Look at you, you can't even look at his face! You're so pathetic."
My head shoots up to glare at him, and I have to keep reminding myself that this isn't actually Michael. "Call me pathetic one more time."
His shoe collides with my chest, causing me to roll over. Before I can comprehend it, he is on top of me, one hand grabbing my jaw to force me to look him in the eyes. "Your love for Michael makes you weak, but you're too pathetic to do anything about it."
My eyes go hard, and without warning, I shoot my hand forward, and the base of my palm collides with the bottom of his nose.
"Fuck!" he mutters as his head reels back. He still manages to keep ahold of me with one hand, but he uses his other hand to cover his bloody nose. "I see you took self defense," he utters. I don't miss the hint of pain in his voice.
"I warned you to not call me pathetic one more time."
He must use magic to heal himself, as he uses his shirt sleeve to wipe the blood away with no pain. "Well, I must admit, well played."
Against my will, my hands fly up beside my head. I try to move them, but an invisible force is pinning my wrists to the ground. He tightens his grip on my jaw, his fingers painfully digging into my soft skin.
"Unfortunately, you have made this much more painful for yourself."
Without warning, his right hand shoots into the left side of my chest, and a sensation that cannot be described as anything besides pure agony wracks my body.
A scream tears from my throat as my body seizes against the floor, but he doesn't so much as react as his hand lands around my heart. He looks down at me amusedly as I writhe against the floor, pained breaths leaving my lips.
He uses his hold on my jaw to turn my face toward him, forcing me to look into Michael's beautiful blue eyes. "Just remember, Esmeray; Michael is capable of doing every single thing to you that I do in this vision."
I come to just as he rips my heart from my chest.
I scream as I fly forward in my bed. My thoughts are racing, my brain flying at a rate of a million miles an hour as I attempt to gain my bearings.
"What the hell happened?" Queenie asks.
I turn to see that she is hovering next to me worriedly, clearing having been woken up by my shouts. As soon as I see her, memories from my dream flood over me as I crush her in a hug. "Queenie, thank god," I cry, tears streaming down my cheeks.
"Girl, what happened?" she asks, tolerating the hug.
"Worst nightmare of my life, I'm sorry," I apologize shakily as I release her.
We both turn to the door as Cordelia walks in. "Esmeray, what is wrong?" she asks, seeing my current state. "I heard a blood-curling scream in here."
I shake my head. "Really vivid nightmare."
"Care to explain it?" she asks, taking a seat on my bed. She makes it clear that she isn't leaving until I tell her.
I explain the whole dream to her, for the sake of everyone leaving out some of the details of what Satan told me.
After I'm finished, I notice Mallory standing in the doorway, clearly deep in thought. "What is it, Mallory?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Your dream is just like the exact event that went down in the original timeline."
"What do you mean?"
"Michael came in here one day and killed all of the witches in the dining room while Cordelia, Myrtle, Madison, Coco, and I were in the office. We all escaped, but he destroyed the souls of the witches he killed. Of course, you weren't in that timeline, so the events happened differently in your dream."
"He really killed everyone?" I ask.
Mallory nods. "That's why it's taken me so long to trust him."
A troubled look passes over my face at this information.
"Is your nose bleeding?" Queenie asks, dragging me from my thoughts.
I touch the skin under my nose and see blood on my hand when I pull it away. "Shit, Michael!" I gasp. "Our connection - that's why my nose is bleeding, and Satan said he was able to get into my dream because my connection with Michael was active!"
As I fly to my feet, Cordelia says, "Wait, Esmeray-"
I brush past her, sprinting out of my room and down the hallway to Michael's room. As soon as I arrive at his door, I turn to knob and prepare myself to burst into his room. However, it refuses to budge, and my body slams into the door. "Shit," I mutter, trying to knob multiple times as if that will make it work. I try to telepathically open it, but my magic seems to bounce off of it.
I take a deep breath and back up; it looks like I'm breaking this bitch down. I break into a run and throw myself through the door, the doorknob breaking off as the door flies open.
I gasp as I see Michael convulsing in bed, nose bleeding and eyes rolled into the back of his head. I run to shake him awake, but energy explodes from the point at which my skin contacts his. I go flying across the room, eventually landing against the wall by the door with a thud.
"Oh my god," Cordelia gasps as she enters the room.
I pull myself to my feet as she approaches Michael. "Don't touch him," I warn. "I learned the hard way." I quickly dust myself off.
She nods as she holds her hand over Michael and closes her eyes, then inhales. "He's in a vision," she states. "By the looks of it, it's an intense one."
"How do we wake him from it?" I ask.
"We don't. He has to decide when to leave."
"He's going to get himself killed! What if he doesn't leave in time?"
She sighs as she looks at him. "We'll have to hope he doesn't do that."
I'm about to protest when Michael stops shaking, then he stops breathing altogether.
"Michael!" I gasp, running over to him. I cautiously touch him to find that I'm not reflected by magic this time. I hold a hand over his chest to feel that his skin is burning hot and his breathing is stopped. "Come on, breathe," I mutter desperately. I quickly bring my free hand to his face. "Michael, come on, don't let your father win this one. Wake the hell up."
On cue, he dramatically inhales as he flies forward. "Michael!" I gasp, hurriedly pulling him in for a hug. After a few seconds, a release him to take his disheveled face in my hands. "What happened?"
"We were right about that kid," he sighs, catching his breath. "The one that Emily and her husband had in our dreams."
"What about him? What did you see?"
"My father is able to use him or something, I don't know. All that I know is that he just killed his babysitter yesterday while Emily and her husband were at the Cortez. Then he grew a decade overnight."
"Like you?" I ask.
"Yes, except he's not the next Antichrist because I'm still alive. That means that my father is planning on using him for something. This morning, his parents are going to enlist the help of a school of warlocks in California."
"Shit," Cordelia mutters.
"What is it?" Michael and I ask at the same time.
"They must be going to Hawthorne's. Ariel Augustus, their grand chancellor, is an arrogant, misogynistic prick," she explains. I almost never hear Cordelia speak so harshly about people, so I know he must be bad. "He won't care whether that child has dark magic or not; he will take him in and try to raise him to the level of Alpha."
"Alpha?" Michael and I ask again. We both send each other a puzzled look.
"A warlock who is as powerful as the female Supreme, essentially making him the next Supreme. Ariel is obsessed with the idea of men surpassing women in the realm of magic; he doesn't understand that testosterone is an inhibitor of magic."
"How are we supposed to stop him from exploiting this boy's magic?" I ask.
She sighs. "We have to send somebody in that he will trust."
"Who? If anything you said about him is true, then he must hate the witches," I shake my head.
"He does," she nods. "But you two are not witches."
"You want us to go?" Michael asks.
"Yes, but you can't go just to immediately warn him about this new boy. He will ignore and disregard you. You need to go under the guise of a witch and warlock who were turned away from our coven. He will instantly recognize your power and want to use it to his advantage. You are to pretend that you don't know anything and make him feel like he is actually teaching you."
"How long will we have to be there?" Michael asks.
"However long it takes to gain his trust. After you've gained it, you express your concerns about the boy. The goal is to make him value you more than the boy so that when you give him the ultimatum between you two and the boy, he'll choose you two. Then we can swoop in and make the boy loyal to us, then we'll figure out what is wrong with him."
"Why can't we just Concilium that bitch?" I ask. "Ariel, I mean."
Cordelia chuckles. "You can try, but I don't think it will be possible. Similar to how many powers don't work on Supremes, Grand Chancellors are immune to many powers."
"When will the boy be arriving?" I ask Michael.
"I don't think his parents contacted the academy yet. It seemed like it was morning when I saw this happen."
"It's currently 3:33 AM," Cordelia says, checking her watch. "In Pacific time, it is 1:33 AM."
"Do you want us to transmutate there?" I ask.
"No, you must save your energy," she shakes her head. "Go pack, then transmutate to the airport. Do what you need to do to get the next flight to LA, and get some rest on the plane. Contact me when you get there, then go to the academy."
We both nod and stand up. "Oh, and one more thing," Cordelia adds on. "Be careful. Do not trust the warlocks."