Chapter Text
The entire restaurant was silent. Silent apart from the horrific snapping of bone just seconds before. Silent apart from the subtle dripping onto the tile floor. Michael raised his mask, blood staining his fingertips. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. But out of instinct he threw down the mask, breaking off one of the plastic ears.
He stumbled outside into the rain, not even bothering to wipe the water off his bike seat before taking off. He could hear his father calling after him, but he didn't listen. He threw the bike down on the front lawn and scrambled up the steps to the front door.
Michael unlocked the door and slammed it behind him, “No, no no, I can’t stay here,” he muttered, digging a backpack out from the closet. Tears rushed down his face as he threw clothes and snacks into the bag.
He heard the door rattle open and his father’s voice rang through the house, “Michael? Michael James Afton!”
The boy, of course, didn’t go to him. Michael pulled the window open and tossed the bag outside, him jumping out next. The mud squished under his feet as he rounded the corner to grab his bike. Mike got a running start and pushed off the curb, he didn't know where he was going. He didn't care though.
The bike carried him far out of town, and his mind steered him to an old, abandoned barn. There was an odor of rot and mold, but it had to do. Mike ducked inside and put his bike up against a wall. The teen climbed up the loft, putting a lot of faith in the old planks, and set down his bag. He rustled around inside it and pulled out the old sleeping bag he had packed. Mike unzipped the bag slightly and climbed inside it. He rested his head on his arms, and fell asleep crying.
. . . Time Skip . . .
He woke up to two voices over him, one sounding like a younger girl and the other being a more mature woman’s voice.
“Eda, we can’t just leave him here!”
“Well, what do you want to do, kid? After the disaster of you trying to deliver potions?”
“What do you want to do? He’s got blood on his hands! What if he’s hurt?”
Michael’s eyes opened a bit more and he started to sit up, his arms still wobbly from the stress of last night, “Who’s… there..?” he muttered.
“AH! HE’S WAKING UP! EDA, DO SOMETHING!”
The older woman, named Eda apparently, clicked her tongue and a faint light flickered and Michael fell back to the floor with a loud thud.
When he woke up again, he was tied into his sleeping bag. His vision was fuzzy, and everything smelled like a zoo. He heard the voices again, but this time he could partially put silhouettes to them. The one he assumed to be “Eda” had long bushy silver hair and a striking red dress, along with what he thought was a sort of gold fang. The younger girl, who he still didn't know the name of, had a purple hoodie that he could faintly see cat ears on, along with dark brown hair that was similar in texture to his own.
“So, genius, what are we going to do with this stranger you brought into my house because you wanted to play hero, again,” the gray-haired woman said, a slight tone of irritation to her words.
“I don’t know! He looked so sad, his sleeves were soaked! Not to mention, you were the one who used the portal while you downed like… thirty glasses of apple-blood!” The younger girl shot back, crossing her arms moodily.
“Hey! Both of you, be quiet!” A third voice squawked. Michael felt a heavy thump on his stomach as a skull-faced critter clamored up to look him in the eyes, “my new minion is waking up!”
Michael writhed upward with a yelp, sending the little furry beast tumbling to the floor with a sharp “Weh!”
“King! What did I say about calling him a minion?” The girl said, picking the creature up and cradling him in her arms like a baby, “He’s very sad looking, so be nice! No minions, no slaves, no terrified subjects!” she scolded. King, the tiny monster, gave a disappointed sigh.
“So, what made you end up in that barn, kiddo?” Eda asked, crouching down a bit so she was eye-level with Mike, “You were uh… kinda covered in… blood.” She continued, stating the last part very matter-of-factly.
“I-” It took Michael a moment to collect his thoughts, “I don’t know? Where am I? Who the fuck are you? Why is that weird… cat-dog-thing talking?” he paused, “Am I having a fever dream..?”
The teenager across the room let out an offended gasp, covering King’s ears. Or lack thereof.
“Nope, sorry kiddo, all real. Also, don’t try to lie to me, bud. I can tell when you’re lying,” the lady chuckled, twirling a finger in the air. He felt his sleeping-bag-confinement loosen and he wriggled out.
“Just say that you don’t want to talk about it. Okay?” Eda said, nudging his shoulder slightly, “Now, what’s your name? You already know me and the little demon over there,” King waved to Mike, “And the other human’s name is Luz.”
“Uh… Michael. And what do you mean, ‘Other Human’? Aren't you human?” Mike asked, scratching his head.
“Nope, welcome to the Boiling Isles, Mike! The home of witchcraft and demons!” Eda said proudly, “I am Eda, the great Owl-Lady!”
Mike sat for a moment, blinking, “Owl… lady..?”
“That is a much smaller reaction to what I was thinking it would be,” Luz said.
“I mean, I just got… kidnapped? From bum-fuck-nowhere Utah-” He paused when Luz shot a glare that could burn holes in his head, “bum-frick-nowhere Utah. Happy now?”
The teen gave an approving nod, putting King back down. The little demon scurried back to Mike on all fours and climbed up his leg to his shoulder, “You shall do finely as a lookout, meat-bag!”
He glanced at Luz and Eda, a bit confused on what “meat-bag” meant, but they just shrugged. King clambered into Michael’s hood with an evil giggle, bapping him on the back of the head, “Rise, my steed! Onward to the snacks!”
“Don’t listen to him, kid,” The owl lady said with a sigh, “he tried that with Luz and it worked, he doesn't need any more opportunities.”