Page 17 of Possession

Then, beyond the crackling of the fire, it’s silent. My body is stiff with unease and fear, but adrenaline keeps me going. I immediately stand to check the basement door, only to find it’s now locked. I rattle the knob to double-check my assessment, then rattle it again for good measure before I go to the doors Silva exited through. This time, I really do expect a way out, but apparently, I missed the turning of a key in this quiet room. With a sinking feeling, I realize that these doors are locked, too.

I push on them, frustration making me reckless. Where the hell are we? Who is Cera, and how was she able to break the barrier and change the amulet? Who is Silva, and why does he keep looking at me like I’m his long-lost daughter?

I start to pace as I run through our brief conversation to look for clues, flinching when a log shifts and disrupts the peace of the room. I send a quick glare at the fireplace, and my eyes catch on a few photos on the mantle.

Though I know Silva is gone and that the doors will announce his return, I still look around before approaching the fireplace. It isn’t good manners to be caught snooping, and I have no idea what Silva is capable of. From the decor alone, he reminds me of movie villains with too much time, money, and spite. I don’t want him to hang me upside down over his piranha tank, so I make an effort in my sneaking.

There are five pictures on the mantle, all in matching silver frames, and I’m mindful of their placement as I pick up one for a better look. I recognize Silva immediately, looking around the same age he is now, surrounded by men and women who look high society. The photo is in black and white, and the clothes make it seem like it was taken in the Gilded Age. The group could just be dressed for a costume party, but the quality of the picture reveals its true age.

I set it down, unsettled, and reach for another. This one looks even older than the first. The people, whose faces I recognize from the first photo, are wearing gowns with jewelry and suits with top hats. They look the same age as they were in the other picture, though their clothes suggest this to be about fifty to sixty years prior. Considering their stance, it almost looks like a membership photo.

When I set it back, my hands are shaking.

You should calm down, says Aris.

Honestly, I think I’ve been rather calm. You know, considering.

I will admit that the calm is starting to wear off. Whatever had me walking in straight lines through the cellar and up the stairs is fading. At this point, my legs are trembling like my hands, and I stumble back to the couch.

“Is he immortal or something?” I ask.

Or something.

“Instead of being vague, you could give me some actual answers,” I snap. It does mean something that Aris isn’t worried, but it doesn’t answer my questions.

“Wait,” I suddenly say. I hadn’t realized it before over the buzzing in my head, but it strikes me now. “He said to let him know if the ‘two of us’ had any questions. He knows about you, Aris.”

Why do you think Cera freed us? Silva hired her.

Well, I figured that, but why?

Before I consider anything supernatural, my mind goes to the horrors of humanity horrors. If he’s in some kind of creepy high-class society, maybe I’m meant for their amusement. Maybe I’m supposed to be a sacrifice. Maybe he hunts things beyond animals.

Mary. At this point, Aris is annoyed. He doesn’t want you.

“He wants you,” I realize, and am not offended to be the consolation prize. “But why?”

A mental shrug. He’s a fan.

“‘A fan?’ What the hell does that mean?” As soon as I say it, the answer is obvious; it comes with dawning horror. “Aris, does he worship you?”

You say it like it’s a bad thing. Lots of people worship me.

I think of what Cera said when I asked her if she liked Aris. Even I’m not that twisted, she’d scoffed.

“Why does he worship you?” I hiss shrilly, then quickly shake my head. Way too loud. What if someone is listening?

You don’t exactly represent flowers and rainbows, Aris! I shout in my head.

His response is immediate, and there is an odd, irrational bite to his words. I am well aware of what I am.

For a few seconds, I’m not sure how to respond—which isn’t like me, which isn’t like us. In the years we’ve had together, there have been fights and insults and lots of banter, and I was never afraid to speak my mind. Now, suddenly, I am.

Whatever Cera did to the amulet, it unbalanced me and Aris. Before, we were equals, both trapped in a situation neither of us wanted. All of his threats felt too impossible to scare me. And now, suddenly, he can take control of my body.

We aren’t on the same level anymore.

We never were, Mary, he snaps, genuinely irritated now. You are part of a mindless race, descendants of monkeys, and a victim with no strength or ability to change your situation. I am superior in every way. The fact that you are just now realizing this only serves to further my point.

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