Page 120 of Possession

“And what is ‘this?’”

“I’ve made my interest clear, but maybe there’s still some confusion.” He takes a step forward; I take one back, and his lips twist into a sneer. “There is no end to what I will do to keep you.”

No end to what he will do. No way to stop it. And who would I be to fight someone so powerful, so determined? A splinter could never hope to kill an elephant, but couldn’t it borrow itself just so? It could irritate; it could sting.

Everything is stacked against me, and I am so worn that I want to give in. To go along with it, or to just die, but those things can only be done once. Maybe it’s better to survive and find a way to burrow.

“I won’t go,” I say. “You can’t make me.”

Aris and Ryan actually exchange an amused look at that, and I look between the two of them apprehensively. I don’t know what they’re planning, or how long I have until they act.

Shaky with nerves, I fumble with the zipper on my bag and pull out my book of runes. I can’t do anything without a pen and time to translate and consider the patterns, but I raise the book now, brandishing it like a weapon.

“Cute,” Aris says, unamused.

“I won’t go,” I repeat. Unfortunately, my voice is wobbling.

“Let’s consider your options. If you don’t come with me, what could you do? Return to the Institute? I’ve destroyed it. Run to your humans and see if they’ll protect you? Fine, and I’ll be here when you return. I’m all that you have.”

“You’ve made sure of that, haven’t you?” I say resentfully.

He continues, unperturbed, “Will you return to your parents? Do you really think that they’ll open the door?”

His tone is like a mother speaking to a refusing child. Don’t I understand the inevitability? Don’t I know who will win? Why fight?

But I’ll always fight.

“I’ll sleep in the streets. I don’t care. I won’t go with you,” I say. He made fun of my rune, but it’s effective enough; it will keep Aris from knowing where I am. That’s what’s most important.

He studies me, disappointed. “You will truly allow your spite to make your decisions?”

“Well, you always told me I was stupid,” I say, clutching my book tight against my chest as I inch to the side of the hallway. Ryan is so massive that he nearly blocks the entire path, but I might be able to get around him if I can catch him by surprise.

Aris watches me, well aware of what I’m planning, but he makes no move to stop me. “Lashing out does not suit you, Mary,” he continues. Why is he still trying? “Come with me. You would want for nothing. You wouldn’t have to fear anything again.”

“I would fear you,” I say, and he sighs.

Ryan finally catches onto what I’m doing and takes a few, lumbering steps towards me. I can’t outrun him; I can’t fight him. With no other options, I shrink against the wall to make myself as small as possible, watching my reflection grow larger in the blade of his ax.

When he is only inches away, a shadow over me, I see Aris raise his hand, and Ryan immediately stops. I’ve no idea how he caught the movement; Ryan is looking only at me. Glowering as he is refused his kill.

My eyes dart between the two of them, unsure who to keep my eyes on. Aris is more dangerous, but Ryan is closer. It would take only a swipe to end me.

“Let her go,” says Aris.

Ryan backs away at the order, but I stay frozen, brows furrowed as I work through his plan. There’s only one reason why he’d let me go: to continue the game. To let the rat run the maze. He knows where the exit is; he placed the cheese.

I send him a look, one to convey everything I feel and more. He can no longer hear my thoughts, so I must show him this way. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. You are vile. Evil and cruel.

My hate is the one thing I am sure of in this moment.

Aris sees this, knows this, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do; he smiles.

When I’m no longer able to stomach the sight, I run away.

Chapter twenty-eight

No one stops me; no one tries. I pass by the bodies of men in the school uniform. Most are strangers, or their faces are covered or too bloodied to be identified, but their clothes remind me of Simon. So, in a way, every dead person is Simon, who is my friend.

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