Page 20 of Possession

Different magic, I remind myself, thinking of the runes Cera drew and how she penetrated the barrier, changing the amulet without a wand.

It’s then that I notice Silva staring at me expectantly. “Um, okay,” I say, voice strained. “That makes sense. I guess?”

That yellow smile turns a little patronizing. “You see, Mary, my group also worked on a way to counteract the powers of the amulet. We know our labors were effective, and that Aris is no longer trapped from within. I mention this because I was hoping to speak with him.”

I look away and consider straight up lying and telling Silva that, no, Aris actually isn’t here. Sorry. You’re wrong. I doubt it’d slide, but I can’t just give in either.

When Aris arrived on Earth, it was in a blitz of fury and chaos. Many people died as he walked from city to city, killing indiscriminately. I don’t know how many casualties there were—thousands? Hundreds of thousands?

The property damage was just as horrible. For seemingly no reason, Aris destroyed skyscrapers and train systems, collapsed tunnels in on themselves and lifted and threw highways into the vegetation surrounding them. Wherever he went, and he went far, death followed; crops withered, humans died just the same, decaying in a matter of seconds while pestilence and illness spread for the unluckier, hardier individuals.

For one week, it was the end of the world.

Then, the mages came. They trapped Aris in a mortal body—which unfortunately happened to be mine. Wrong place, wrong time for me, but regardless, the day was saved; the evil was locked away.

But the carnage…

I was taken too early to see the true aftermath, but I know his attack is an event that will never be forgotten. Like the Crusades and the plague and the fall of Rome, it’s embedded in world culture forever.

And Silva and his group worship that? They fought to free Aris, at the risk of it happening again?

These people are dangerous, I warn Aris. Even to us.

He scoffs. You said it yourself—they worship me. They would never move against us.

I openly hesitate. Admittedly, Aris is so much more than human—he’s an incomprehensible being with incredible power—but I know people. And these people are weird.

Something feels off. I glance at the large man behind Silva. Wrong, even. Do you see how they’re looking at me? It’s like they want to eat me alive.

Mary, we’re free. He freed us, and he’s offering us a home. All he wants is for me to speak with him. Should we not give him that?

As Silva and the other man stare at us, the trepidation brings a sweat to my brow. Something in my bones tells me that I’m in trouble, every bit of human instinct and women’s intuition. And he still wants to stay.

Aris. I hesitate. There’s a good chance that he will make fun of me for this, but I have to say it: I’m scared.

Shh. Let me handle it.

With a jolt, I jerk up straight, like pulled by a string. What? I say, and suddenly realize what’s happening.

I’m about to tell him not to, to please let me stay, when I feel myself start to sink. Like falling from a great height, plummeting into the dark, I am detached. I don’t know where I go or what I am, but I’m suspended somewhere, and I don’t feel… anything.

No, that’s not true. I feel emotion. I feel fear and confusion and anger, but I don’t feel myself: my arms, my legs. They don’t exist. There are no phantom limbs; there is not even an idle awareness. I’m nothing.

When a low and pleased sigh comes out of my mouth, it’s not me making the noise. My head turns, and I see my hand raise. My fingers are being studied, wiggled one by one.

This isn’t how it was when Aris took control before with Cera. Then, I hadn’t even noticed at first. This, I am noticing.

“Lord Aris?” Silva says, and my head raises to stare at the man.

His bodyguard is still behind him, but that look of distrust and distant rage has been completely wiped from his face. Now, the large stranger has a sheen of tears in his eyes, and his mouth is wide open with open awe and glee.

“Yes,” Aris says. It’s his voice this time, the deep timbre that seems to make the room shake.

Silver eyes go wide, and he instantly pushes himself off of the couch to throw himself at my—at Aris’—feet. He keeps his head completely down, his lips on the floor, and he trembles softly. “My Lord, my great Lord,” he murmurs against the hardwood.

Aris stands to my full height of five feet and two inches. It’s not very impressive, but when Aris glances at the giant again, the man looks amazed. In just three long strides, he comes around the couch to bow at Aris’ feet next to Silva.

“You have served me well,” Aris says, and both shake even harder at the compliment, as if sobbing.

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