Upon seeing Michael's true Antichrist face, my instincts take action. Almost immediately, I grab his arm, which is still holding me by the neck, and he flies back. His face returns to its human form as he crashes into the wall.
I swing my arm out and the bookshelves on both sides of him flip over onto him. I break the chain holding up the candles hanging from the ceiling above him, and they crash onto the bookshelves on top of him, catching them on fire.
I stand back and watch Michael's reaction smugly. He stares at me in shock as he pulls himself to his feet, pushing the bookshelves to the side. He slowly walks forward, barely paying attention to the growing fire behind him. "How did you do that?" he asks, his voice laced with disbelief.
"Surprise bitch, I have powers," I scoff.
"Have you been hiding them this whole time?"
I roll my eyes. "No, I only got them after your father decided to make us allies and shit. Trust me, if I had them before I knew you were the Antichrist, I would've tried to kill you with them."
He sighs as he fixes the mess behind him. "Well, this complicates things."
"What?" I question.
He transmutates over to me and grabs my arm before transmutating us to his bedroom. "Give me some warning before you just do that," I complain as he releases my arm.
He ignores me and walks over to his bedside table, taking a knife from the drawer.
"You just keep knives in your nightstand?" I mock.
He rolls his eyes as he raises his arm and a candle flies into it. "Give me your hand," he states as he sets the knife and candle down on his desk and holds out his hand.
I raise a brow as I walk over to him and extend my hand. "Why?" I ask.
Without warning, he flips my hand over so it is palm up and slides the knife across my palm.
"What the fuck?" I gasp as I pull my hand away. "What is your issue?"
He rolls his eyes. "Bear with me here." He picks up the candle and hands it to my non-injured hand. "Light it on fire," he instructs.
I send him a questioning look as I hold my bloody hand over it, somehow already knowing what I'm supposed to do. My blood drips onto the candle, and it lights up.
He nods as he takes the candle from me and blows it out. "Is the hand-cutting really necessary?" I question.
"No," he shakes his head. "It's just more fun for me."
"Asshole," I mutter as I open his nearest drawer and pull one of his black shirts out. I wrap it around my bloody hand before he can protest.
"What the hell?" he complains as he reaches for his shirt.
"It's already ruined now," I state as I hold my arm out of his reach.
He rolls his eyes, giving up. "I suppose I deserved that one."
I smirk. "So did you only want me to light some silly candle?" I question.
He sighs as he walks past me. "Transmutate into the hallway."
I roll my eyes and transmutate into the hallway outside his bedroom. He opens his bedroom door as I appear. "May I ask what the purpose of all of this is?" I question.
"You'll see," he says nonchalantly. "Now, can you tell me where the item belonging to Ariel Augustus is in this outpost?"
"What the hell does this Ariel Augustus bitch have to do with the task at hand?" I scoff.
He sends me a threatening look. "Just do it."
I sigh as I close my eyes, trying to think of Ariel Augustus, whoever the hell that bitch is. Soon, an image of a dark red ring appears in my mind. "Dark garnet ring, hidden in a small box in the library. Why the hell would somebody put a ring in a small box in a library?"
He rolls his eyes. "Warlocks are weird. Now-"
"Wait, this dude was a warlock?" I ask.
"Yes, he was the leader of the warlocks before I massacred them all," he states smugly
My mouth drops. "Excuse me? And you're proud of this? You know what, just tell me the next task you want me to do," I sigh.
He chuckles as he walks past me down the hallway. He spots a Gray up ahead and turns to me. "Slip into her mind and make her slit her own throat with those scissors she's carrying."
"What?" I gasp as I turn to him.
He rolls his eyes. "I'll have you bring her back to life after she does that. Bonus points if you can make her forget the whole event after that. Of course, unless you're not up for a challenge."
"I'm down for a challenge," I smirk as I turn my attention to the Gray. She looks at all of the writing supplies in her hands before pulling out the scissors. She drops the rest of the supplies and it clashes on the floor. Her eyes glaze over as she stabs the scissors straight into her neck.
She gasps as she collapses to the ground within seconds, dead. Michael and I walk towards her. "You're doing good so far," Michael states casually. "Now bring her back."
I kneel next to her as I flip her over. I pull the scissors from her neck and hold my arm over her.
After a few minutes, I furrow my brow. "I can't bring her back," I mutter. I quickly grab her face, trying to figure out what the problem is, when it dawns on me.
I slowly stand up and turn to Michael.
"Giving up that easily?" he mocks.
"You destroyed her soul, asshole," I accuse as I cross my arms.
He shrugs. "See? You're good at this. It would've taken most people longer to figure that out."
"Michael, you just destroyed her soul for no reason!" I shout.
"And you just killed her for no reason," he retorts.
"First, she technically killed herself. Second, I killed her because you told me to. Third, I only killed her because I thought she would be returning to life!"
He raises a brow. "You see? We're not too different. You just killed an innocent girl for virtually no reason, and now she will never be returning to life."
"I only did it because you told me to," I seethe. "Why are you even asking me to do all this shit?"
"I'm seeing if you can pass the Seven Wonders," he responds simply.
"You mean those tasks to see if I'm the next Supreme?" I scoff. "You seem to be forgetting one important detail: I'm not a witch."
He shrugs. "If all the other witches are dead and the Supreme dies, the Supremacy could be transferred to another magical being. If you're able to bring somebody back to life and descend into hell, you could quite possibly be that person."
"That's all?" I ask sarcastically.
"You've already passed five of the Seven Wonders," he shrugs. "It's not impossible."
I roll my eyes. "Guess what? I don't want to be Supreme anyways, so we just did this all for nothing." I turn and begin to walk away, but he transmutates in front of me.
"You don't get a choice in the matter."
I narrow my eyes. "I'm so tired of you trying to force me into shit-"
"This isn't up to me," he rolls his eyes. "I have no control over who does and who doesn't get the Supremacy, and neither do you. The truth is that if all the witches die, you will most likely be the next Supreme."
"Why are you even this hung up on the witches?" I scoff. "Sure, they killed Ms. Mead or whatever, but face it; she killed a warlock herself and would've gladly killed all the witches. Their actions weren't unjustified whatsoever, yet you seem to think that they committed some heinous war crime through their execution of an unstable, sadistic Satanist."
He stares at me in silent shock, and I can tell by the look on his face that my words cut deep. He slowly steps toward me, leaving no clue as to what his next move will be. I brace myself, but I don't let my confident facade fall; the truth is that I meant everything that I said.
Slowly and deliberately, he raises an arm and slaps me across the face. My head turns to the side upon impact, my hair flying into my face. The sound of his rings colliding with my skin echoes down the hallway. I ignore the stinging in my cheek as I slowly turn back to him while his fiery eyes glare at me.
"I will not tolerate this talk of Ms. Mead. The witches are all going to die excruciatingly painful deaths for what they did to her, and I will ensure that you die along with them if you have any more doubt in my plan."
I stand up straighter as I stare him down, refusing to allow him to intimidate me. "No," I state simply yet determinedly.
"No?" he questions, his voice devoid of emotion.
"You have gotten yourself so deep in this idea of revenge that you have refused to stop and think about what you're doing. You're scared to have me question you because then you'll be forced to question yourself. You have Ms. Mead back, and although she's not the real thing, she's as close as you'll ever get."
He watches my every move closely as I walk towards him. "If you were smart, you would get the hell out while you still can. The witches must have some plan for how to defeat you; why else would they sneak Mallory into this outpost? I say we get out now, go to the Sanctuary, and leave Venable to kill the outpost residents and wake the witches. The witches will come and collect Mallory, then realize that you are nowhere to be found. Just like that, it's over; we go on our way and the witches go on theirs."
He stares me down silently as he ponders my words. After a few seconds, he shakes his head. "No. We will continue with the original plan of killing the witches."
I glare at him as I step even closer, our faces being inches apart. "You're a scared fool," I whisper threateningly. "You're scared to think that you may have been wrong, and you're foolish for thinking that you're going to get out of this showdown alive."
Without warning, he grabs me by the neck and pushes me back until we slam into the wall. He glares at me, his grip tightening and loosening as he debates killing me.
"Do it," I challenge. "Kill the only person who has enough balls to question your mediocre plans."
He continues to glare silently, and I can see the thoughts behind his eyes as the tension continues to grow. His resolve is lessening by the second, so I decide to make him choose what to do. I lean forward so that my lips are almost touching his ear. "What are you waiting for, devil boy? Kill me."
He quickly slams me back into the wall then slams his lips onto mine before I can recover. I am slightly shocked at first; I was definitely expecting him to kill me. However, I go with the flow and accept the kiss, allowing it to grow more heated.
He quickly pulls away. "Why the hell is it so hard to hate you?" he mutters.
I smirk as I release him and step away, wiping the corner of my lip to fix my lipstick. He watches while glaring me down, his eyes a mixture of lust and hate.
I debate responding to him, but I decide to leave him in suspense. I turn on my heel and walk away, leaving him enraged and confused in the middle of the hallway.