Fiery Nightmare // Michael Langdon

Part 20

"Why were you at the cemetery?" I ask Marielle as soon as we appear in the backroom of her shop.

She chuckles as she walks back towards a cabinet.  "I could sense the shit show going on in there. At first I assumed it was some amateur witches getting into trouble, but soon I felt the massive amount of energy being used and came as soon as I could."

"What about Michael?  Will he be okay considering the fire and the ghosts?"

"The ghosts?" she scoffs. "There aren't any. You just incinerated the main ghost, and his lifeline was tied to all the others. Michael's in the clear - of course, besides the massive fire you started."

"Why did we even need to leave Michael?" I question.

She sighs as she begins digging through the cabinet. "When you were thrown, your body looked entirely limp, as if you were dead.  I have some ideas on how to find who created you, but we need to do them under Michael's radar, so I figured-"

"We're just going to let Michael think I'm dead?" I clarify.

"It'll only be for a day or two," she insists.

I cross my arms.  "I don't like that idea.  I have a feeling that Michael won't handle it well."

"Come on, Blaise, he'll get over it."

"Before or after he commits some insane act out of grief?"

"We will make this as quick as possible," she promises.  She looks down at my arms and narrows her eyes.  "What's that ring?"

I hold out my arm with my black feather ring on it as she steps forward to scrutinize the ring.  "It was on me when I appeared," I explain.  "I wear it almost all the time since it's my closest tie to whoever created me."

She shakes her head.  "No, this doesn't make sense."

"What?"

"The ring's black; black denotes a connection to Satan.  Why the hell would somebody connected to Satan want to make his spawn good?"

"Could they have gone rogue?"

She slowly nods.  "I don't know, but that's a possibility.  I don't get the feathers either; feathers are usually more of an angel thing.  This only makes it more important that we find whoever created you."

I sigh defeatedly, my curiosity getting the best of me.  "Okay, fine.  Let's find whoever created me."

"Perfect," she smiles.

I shrug, reassuring myself.  "Michael will be fine, right?"

She quickly nods.  "Absolutely."

After Blaise left the cemetery (third-person pov)

"Blaise!" Michael yells, staring at the spot where he could've sworn he just saw her.

There is no answer.

"Fuck it," he mutters as he runs towards the spot, ignoring the growing fire around him.

Suddenly, the fire ten feet in front of him explodes, and he flies backwards.  He collides with the ground, his head taking a solid portion of the impact.

He lays on the ground for a few moments, his ears ringing, completely dazed.  He begins to regain his bearings as he sits up.  He touches under his nose and feels the blood gushing from it, yet he feels no pain.  He slowly looks around, his hair amess, trying to put his thoughts together.