1.34.1 The Blood that Binds
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Clung to the walls, Michael and Shelly slowly traversed the bottom floor of the school. Unlike the floors above, this place was teeming with cultists, making it near impossible to move without running into one. Shelly was on point, mirror in hand, as she checked another corner. Her face turned grim, and she motioned for him to stay still.

Their best chance for a clean escape was to avoid combat, but that was difficult. And as Shelly wrapped up and choked out another mage, they were beginning to think it was impossible.

"It's a regular ol' meet and greet up in here," she whispered while she tied up her victim.

"Brody runs a very popular cult," Michael murmured back, testing another door. While Shelly had cultist duty, he had been given the far tamer role of checking doors. Like many times before, it swung open to an empty classroom.

Not to waste a good hiding space, Shelly threw the hogtied mage in.

"Too damn popular," she shook her head, "we must be close to this oracle. How many rooms can a school have?" It was half a joke, though as the minutes passed, she came to believe the architects cursed this building.

There was an odd amount of every type of room in this school. From art rooms to workshops, to closets, it just felt off. Still, they pushed forward, their goal unwavering.  Though, when they came across a chemistry lab, Shelly dodged in and gathered supplies. Like Christmas for her, it was surprisingly well-stocked. Michael stood as a lookout, allowing her to brew up whatever chaotic trouble she could think of.

Now with a heavy satchel of potential volatile chemicals, they returned to their hunt. And on what felt like the hundredth door, they finally ran into their first locked one.

Excitedly, Shelly knelt with a paper clip and fidgeted with the handle. Too many years of being a troublemaker had gifted her with a few clandestine skills. The lock promptly clicked open, letting them in. Without meaning to, they held their breath as they entered.

The classroom was quite orderly. Mismatched math and literature decorations covered the walls while the desks rested underneath them. A heavily stained whiteboard hung in the back with a massive alien symbol drawn on it in green dry erase. Neither cared, though, as their attention focused on the center of the room.

There sat in a single desk chair was a very calm Mama Clarke.

She looked at them almost expectantly, even as her gaze traveled far behind them. This didn't even register to the siblings as they rushed forward. They abandoned their cautiousness as they checked over the older woman while speaking at the same time. Their panicked voices combined into a jumbled phrase as they asked if she was ok.

Her response was a short, breezy laugh followed by a shake of her head. "So that's what the charts were meaning."

The two exchanged glances, unsure of what she meant. Before they could ask again, Mama Clarke continued. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Nothing's broke on me." The answer wasn't good enough as Shelly busied herself checking Mama over, and Michael took to asking questions.

"How long have you been here?"

"Two days," she sighed. "They smuggled me out in the middle of a reading. Quite rude, these boys."

"You know who did it, right?"

"Of course, I do," she sounded almost insulted as she scowled, "I knew that day. Just a little too late, tsk. That Harrison boy," she paused before shaking her head, "I wouldn't have believed it, but the things he's messing with. The trouble he's calling…" She trailed off. Michael wanted to push farther, but Shelly had more important issues.

"Can you walk?" She asked.

"Yes, yes, my child," Mama Clarke assured, "I'd be walking just fine. Nothing's been done to me besides locking me up. Not too afraid of an old blind woman, it seems."

"Excellent," Michael turned to Shelly, "take mom and head for the big Banyan Tree in the middle of town. It's magical and can protect you. Since there's no realm up, you can hide in the canopy until everything settles down."

Shelly gave a confused look, "What about you?"

"I need to get Neil."

It was not the answer she expected as she looked at him incredulously. The mere fact he had the balls to tell her to run while leaning one-armed and one-legged on a crutch made her question if he was as injured as he appeared.

The shock didn't last long as she shook her head. "No way in hell. You take mom, and I'll go get your boyfriend."

"No," he shut her down, "it's too dangerous."

"Too dangerous? Really? Cause from what I see, you are one leg away from becoming a scarecrow. A stiff breeze would knock you flat on your ass. Currently, I'm the only one with functioning legs and the ability to shoot a gun. I'll get him."

"I'm the one who's anti-magic and the one with the most experience fighting the supernatural. We're in a den of mages. I'll get him."

Still, she deflected his argument with a raised hand. "No, I can't cancel magic, but I sure as hell can handle a mage or two. With my satchel and gun, I'm more than a threat to them." She then looked him over, her gaze increasingly distressed. He was getting paler even as he stood resolute. She remembered the doctor had said his wounds hadn't closed right, and even now, she questioned if letting him walk around was a good idea. "If you go out there, you'll end up captured again, and then I'll have to rescue both of you idiots."

"He's my boyfriend. I should be the one to get him. I can't put you at risk for something that is my mistake."

"Hunter," the word was almost a laugh, a very despondent laugh. "The moment I was knocked out, bound, and shoved into a closet; I was put at risk. I'd rather take the risk into my own hands than leave you to hobble about."

As if to end this conversation, Michael limped towards the door. "Get to the Banyan. It's not too far away from here."

She grabbed his shoulder before realizing what she had done. Quick to release it, it didn't stop a shudder of pain from running through him. Biting down on his lip, he refused to show his discomfort as he quickly straightened.

This reaction wasn't lost to her, though. "Stop being a dumbass!" She commanded, but the argument just continued, neither willing to compromise. Eventually, their murmuring turned into a barely contained stage whisper.

"Enough!"

They both jumped at Mama Clarke's command. For a second, they exchanged glances like two misbehaving children caught by their mother.

"Now listen," Mama Clarke continued. "Normally, the future is off-limits. But if it will get you two to stop, I'll tell you it."

"What do you mean, Mama?" Shelly asked before being silenced by Mama's glare.

"Before they moved me here, I did a quick scry about all this trouble. In it, I saw my children working together to fix it all. You know how I feel about future telling, and I don't want to be throwing my children into danger's mouth. But for this future. A future where all of us still be breathing, you go together."

There was a brief silence before Michael let out a sigh and leaned heavily on his crutch. "I see. It's all fate's plan."

"No, it ain't no fate's work. Just one path. A good path. Now stop wasting our time, get out, save the boy, and come back to your mama."

"But we can't just leave you here," Shelly cut in. "There's no guarantee that you'll be safe while we're gone. Someone has to get you out of here."

Michael couldn't help but agree with her. "Goldie isn't here…"

Exasperated, Mama Clarke shook her head. "My children have no faith in me. Erase that symbol." She pointed her thumb at the whiteboard.

A bit confused, Shelly quickly did, and the older woman drew out a series of runes on the tabletop. Nothing happened for a moment before she motioned at Michael. "Son, back up."

He did, and the runes slowly shimmered to life and pulled free from the plastic. It wrapped and twisted as it changed colors from blue to green and lastly yellow before a familiar form landed on the ground.

Goldie shook out his fur, a bit of static clinging to him as gold dust shifted off and lingered in the air. He walked over to his mistress and sat by her feet with a light huff. Lazily, his brown eyes stared up at the two others.

"Of course," Shelly laughed.

"Of course?" Michael looked over at his sister. He would have never thought of this as a regular thing. Well, for his mother anyway.

"Don't sound so lost, boy. Goldie's been my familiar for two years now. No point in letting such a good boy go," she explained before taking the leash that appeared on the guide dog's back. "He'll lead me just fine. Now go, get my son-in-law and his folk."

There was another pause as the siblings processed the new information. The word 'folk' caught Michael. He had forgotten that Trisha was around when Brody had come looking for Neil. This just further complicated everything. It was already hard moving two people through the hall. The idea of adding in a third and a fourth made his head hurt. As his mind ran through all the possibilities, Shelly just stared at him expectantly.

When he didn't respond, she couldn't hold back any longer. "When… when did you get married? And why didn't you invite me?"

Confused, Michael turned to find her devastated. His tongue nearly slipped as he started to say how long they had been married, but he caught himself and gave her a little smirk. "Well, we're not yet. But I'm sure Neil will be excited to hear about this. He'll consider it your blessing."

"Hold up-"

"Enough talking," Mama Clarke once more took control. "Get going, or else there won't be no wedding."

 

A/N

Happy New Year! ? Thankful 2020 is now over! I hope everyone had a good holiday season and new year!

Just general story updates, it's the last stretch. The second half of this chapter is nearly done, but I wanted to get something out on January 1st! There are about five chapters left including epilogue. The next two chapters and epilogue are roughed out at this point. So I'm gonna aim to have We've Lost the Plot/ The Blood that Binds done by the end of January. It's kind of a way to wrap up what I started in 2020 so that I can on start new projects in 2021. 

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