Page 108 of Possession

That day my life ended makes me cold to think about. I was walking home when people blinked into existence around me. Surrounding me. I remember their red robes, like blood, and how loudly they chanted. At first, I thought that they were talking to me. I tried to understand, but they spoke in a different language, and it soon became apparent that they weren’t speaking to me at all.

They herded me to the center of their circle, yelling louder, desperately. I tried to get away, but there were too many, and they grabbed me by the hair to keep me still. I clawed at the hands that held me in place, as they stuck the amulet on me like a collar.

Next thing I knew, there was something in me. A voice in my head. Screaming. And I understood its rage and pain; it was my own, but not. It was me, but different. I was no longer just myself. One became two became one.

I felt the cells in my body alter, a coat of paint tossed over me. What was once my own was now covered with sticky ink, all while the voice screamed its fury. I couldn’t tell if the thoughts were my own; I couldn’t tell what was myself any longer. I passed out moments later and awoke in my cell at the Institute.

“I thought that Aris picked me,” I say somewhat absently.

Was it really all… chance? Was I just some unfortunate schmuck? It seems unlikely. That day, the last I’d heard was that Aris was somewhere in Australia destroying a random city. Why did they bring him to me? Why not pick someone there?

I think back to our conversation last night. What would your life have been without me? he’d asked.

Simon averts his gaze. “Do you know her full name?” he asks, changing the subject.

“Cera’s?” I shake my head to remove the thought of Aris. “No.”

He sighs and walks again, and I watch carefully, as a pupil might. Making more dust circles with his shoes, smaller ones inside of the first lines, he says, “I can try. I’m still a student, you know, and I’ve never met the girl.”

“Do you think she’ll come?” I ask.

“Maybe.”

Silently, I watch him work, suddenly suspicious of his kindness. I wonder why he’s helping me but am worried that he’ll stop if I ask. Maybe that’s proof to Aris’ influence over me, that I don’t trust a friend helping out of the goodness of his heart. Aris trusted no one. What would he make of Simon?

I feel him on my heart, curled, poised. You replaced me with a wizard, Mary?

My hands find their way to my chest, and I press down until I feel bone. Where are you, Aris? I ask, though there is no one there to hear. What do you want with me?

Simon sighs, fiddling with his wand while murmuring to himself. I try to listen, but the words make no sense, and the cadence and rhythm just hurt my head, as if it’s truly incomprehensible.

Finally, Simon stops.

“It should work.” He pauses, then amends, “It might work.”

I approach the edge of the circle, watching mist leak from the end of his wand. The air begins to condense further, until the fog looks almost solid. Soon, I can’t see the other side, and that’s when a figure emerges.

Cera.

She’s as I remember: beautiful, with a cruel tilt of her lips, reeking of danger. There’s a story I heard of a noblewoman who bathed in blood to keep herself young; Cera reminds me of her.

“Well, if it isn’t little Mary.” Cera’s eyes flit to Simon, appraising. “And this must be your lamb.”

“This is Simon,” I say.

“Don’t care,” she says. A knife appears in her hands, and my heart stutters. Apparently, her arm has healed. A flick of the wrist, barely an effort, and I’d be dead.

“Right, then,” mutters Simon, and we share a look, where he seems to pointedly remind me that this was my idea.

“Why am I here?” Cera’s tone is less playful now. “I was in the middle of something.”

“I need to learn magic,” I say nervously.

She just stares. “Do I look like a teacher?”

“I saw you use magic. You know how to.”

“Of course I know how, but why would I tell you anything?” She twirls her knife, the sharp point circling her palm. “I don’t do charity, and I doubt you could afford my rate.”

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