Page 16 of Possession

“Ah, of course!” he says and steps aside to reveal a cozy sitting area. “Come in, make yourselves comfortable.”

I give him a nervous look, ignoring the suggestion in favor of peeking around him. Luckily, I can see a good amount of the room from the stairs. Leather couches border a massive stone fireplace, lit with a blazing fire that shows no sign of dying. There’s no other light beyond the flames, giving the room a dim and shadowed look. On the wall are paintings following the overarching theme of gore and terror, with deaths shown every way a person can die. I try not to look at them for too long, but my eyes stray to a particular piece of a woman screaming as a black whisp dashes inside of her. I wonder, is that meant to be me?

They’re all so horrific, and they remind me of the man Cera just killed. I think of the twist of the blade as my hand strays to my stomach, where the guard was stabbed, and I imagine my smooth skin tearing open.

Beautiful, Aris remarks, and he seems to genuinely mean it.

Of course you’d like that kind of stuff.

I enjoy art, Mary.

With a somewhat shaky breath, I force myself to look at the rest of the room. The ground is dark hardwood, the walls painted a crimson that makes me think of the Grand Mage’s cloak. There are windows half-hidden by dark and flowing curtains, but I can still see outside. It’s dark, obviously nighttime, and the moon is bright enough to illuminate a forest.

I can’t help but do a double-take at the sight of a large tree outside the window. It’s the first one I’ve seen in years. With a swallow, I push back the childish urge to go climb it.

Three years is a long time, and it’s been longer still since I’ve been in a tree, but I can still remember the feeling of bark under my hands.

The crackle of the fireplace brings me back to the moment, to the room, and I glance to the man in front of me, wondering if this lounge is his own.

Aris?

Hmm?

Can’t you read minds now? Would you like to fill me in on what’s happening?

He shifts, resting above my heart. Sit down and listen to the man, Mary.

That is exactly what I don’t want to do, but I’m afraid I don’t have much of a choice. Behind me is a killer and inside me is Aris, stronger than I’ve ever seen him; I doubt the stranger is worse than the other two, but it would be just my luck.

“You must be Mary,” the man, Silva, says abruptly.

Nodding, I meet his gaze, only to flinch at the color of his eyes. It’s rude to stare—even worse to react to someone’s appearance, but I’m genuinely taken aback by the color of his eyes, which shine like liquid silver. I’ve never seen anything like it, didn’t know it was possible for eyes to look like that—then again, who knows what’s possible?

He holds out a hand for me to shake. On the top of his wrist is a tattoo mostly hidden by his clothes, suggesting a larger piece of art, but he’s too covered to make out anything definitive. All there is on his hand, which is white enough to be scar tissue, are a few stray, black lines.

I take his hand, tensing as my fingers fold over his. They’re ice cold, colder than the temperature in my cell. I immediately flinch and try to jerk away, but his grip is unrelenting. He smiles again; his teeth are yellow and stick out against his alabaster face.

Inside me, Aris takes a long, happy sigh, and I’m reminded of a purring cat.

“Yes, I’m Mary,” I say. When I pull back this time, he lets me bring my arm down to my side.

A throat behind me, the only warning of Cera’s impatience before she shoves her way past one-handed. “We need to talk,” she says to Silva, and he nods. It’s only then that I realize this is the first time he’s looked away from me since we arrived.

Cera passes by him, and Silva’s eyes track her for a moment before he glances back at me. “Mary, why don’t you make yourself at home?” he says.

I nod, since it doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice, and walk into the lounge proper. I’m barefoot, since I wasn’t exactly expecting my kidnapping, and I can feel exactly when the surface below me changes from wood to something soft. Looking down, I’m surprised to find fur.

“A grizzly pelt,” Silva says proudly.

The head of the bear is stretched open in a cry that reminds me of the painting of the woman, and I quickly walk off of it and onto the couch. The pelt doesn’t stretch this far, and there’s only wood below me now, but I pull my feet up beside me, still disturbed. I’ve always had a soft spot for animals and was considering veterinary school before everything went to hell, so hunting for sport isn’t something I like to see.

Undeterred by my discomfort, Silva smiles at me. I am struck by the image of Silva wearing the same, off-putting grin as he guts a bear.

I actively look away from the pelt as he approaches. I look away from him as well, finding his eyes too bizarre to meet, and I concentrate on the couch. It’s made of fine leather, which feels less violent and invasive than the hunted bear. Maybe it’s because there’s no head or eyes to judge me, making it seem less of a corpse.

“I have business with Cera, but I will be back soon to answer any questions that the two of you might have.” He pauses, and I can feel his gaze on me. Watching me, as if waiting for something more, but after a moment he just shakes his head and smiles. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he turns on his booted heel and strides to large doors that presumably lead to the rest of the house. I watch him the whole way, tucking my feet under my legs to keep them warm. Once at the threshold, he looks back, staring hard at me one more time before he closes the doors firmly behind him.

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