Page 23 of Possession

He leads me around a grandiose foyer decorated like the lounge from before. There are paintings hanging on wood-carved walls, each as beautiful and disturbing as the next. I go to nervously play with my identification bracelet, only to remember Silva snipping it away. My hands fist at my sides, and I do my best to stay focused on the back of Silva’s suit.

We pass through several rooms and halls before climbing a massive and ornate staircase that reminds me of European castles. Silva doesn’t speak all the while. That’s fine. I’m getting tired, and what else is there to say? I’m not going to thank him for kidnapping me, no matter how appreciative Aris is. It’s because of him and that Aris can take control now.

We eventually stop in a hallway with a single door.

“Your own wing—with the largest bedroom in the house. Built, furnished, and decorated for the Dark Lord, with the hope that he might one day bless us with his presence. I present it to him now, hoping he will accept the offering.”

I give Silva a look, raising my brow. Bless them with his presence? Accept the offering? Come on, even you have to admit that it’s a little much.

There’s no need to be jealous of their devotion, Mary.

I’m not jealous. They’re zealots!

And how would you act if you were to meet your god?

That gives me pause. I don’t have one, I respond after an uncomfortable moment. I’m not religious, but my parents are Catholic. Given that Aris claimed to have eaten the Christian God, there isn’t much there for me to put stock in.

I focus back on Silva.“Right, thanks,” I say, turning the knob to leave.

“Wait.”

In time, I see him reaching out to grab me for my attention, and I take a few steps into the room to distance myself. Silva pauses at that, staring at me.

“Yes?” I say nervously, focus half on him and half on the room as I try to get a glimpse of my new surroundings. It’s dark, but I can make out the outline of the bed and a few other pieces of furniture.

He clears his throat. “I just wanted to say good night,” says Silva.

I nod and watch him watch me in the doorway for a few excruciating seconds. Finally, apparently satisfied, he turns on his heel and strides down the hall. I don’t hesitate; I shut the door, relieved to find that the lock is on the inside, and turn the key until I hear a click.

For a few moments, I stand there, panting with stress, but I start to relax when I don’t hear anyone approaching. As much as one can relax in a situation like this.

I settle into bed, undeniably exhausted. It’s been a day. I should be fretting about the future and plotting my next move, but I don’t see a quick way out of this. Even if I had an elaborate scheme, Aris could take control of me and stop me at any time.

I’m stuck, and I know that. The thought makes me all the wearier.

Even the image of the dead guard behind my lids isn’t enough to keep me awake.

***

When I wake, light is bleeding in through a slit between dark curtains. A window…? How is there a window?

I blink at it for a few moments, unsure of my surroundings as I finger my necklace. The edges of the amulet are sharp, almost painful, and I grip them hard with sudden realization.

This isn’t my cell; there is no guard staring at me. The amulet is broken. Aris is free.

Not quite. Not yet. Good morning, Mary.

Good morning?

I blink and sit up in bed with a huff, glancing around. Last night, I didn’t take the time to observe my surroundings. Bunched in my fists are red, silk sheets matching the canopy of the bed I’m on. The bed’s curtains are open wide enough to reveal antique furniture, probably haunted by Victorian children.

How are you so calm about this? We were attacked and kidnapped, and now we’re in the house of a death cult!

We’re guests being honored by my followers, he corrects. But I can acknowledge your reservations.

I release the sheets from my death grip and push back the covers to stand on unsteady legs. My neck hurts, even without pressing on the thin skin, and I pad across the room to a full length, oval mirror to investigate further.

A familiar, gaunt face stares back at me, and I quickly look away to take stock of my bruises. The worst are on my arms, but there’s a dark mark on my neck from where Cera slammed her boot down.

---