Page 34 of Possession

Chapter seven

With black ribbons in my hair, face done and wardrobe tweaked, I really do look beautiful. I wish I could enjoy it. Instead, my hand refuses to stray from the amulet. I’ve had it in a death grip since this morning, when Aris and I shared the idea to try to remove it. Of course it didn’t work. The black stone in the middle seemed to wink at us, amused by our efforts.

Now, he’s going to have to come out tonight, and neither of us know what that means. We don’t know if what happened was a one-time thing, or if my disappearance is the beginning of something worse.

However terrifying, my potential demise isn’t the only reason I’m nervous. It’s this gala that gave me a nightmare last night. Wouldn’t you know, being surrounded by a thousand worshipers of chaos, trapped in their creepy murder castle, isn’t exactly my idea of relaxation.

I’ve been watching the clock all day, and no matter how hard I will time to stand still, it just won’t. So, the hours have passed, slowly and painfully. Primped and pampered, I’m supposed to be ready to go, but I feel anything but prepared. I never would’ve thought I could actually miss the cold prison the mages had for us, but at least I knew what to expect when I was there. Now, it seems like I don’t know anything.

Guests arrive in spurts. I thought that most came in the former weeks, but apparently, they were the minority. Our bedroom faces the back of the property, so we can’t watch the cars or people arrive, though we can certainly hear them. There is a symphony of sounds: clattering dishes, a band of string instruments, laughs from good-natured welcomes. People dash through the halls and up and down the stairs, sending creaks and aches throughout the old building. Despite the time they’ve had to prepare, there’s still an air of desperation for final touches.

I start as the door to the bedroom suddenly opens. We’ve been alone practically all day—someone helped me dress, another fixed my hair, and a woman applied my makeup, but all of this took under two hours. Once they left, it was quiet. Until now.

The sight of Silva isn’t exactly a surprise. He looks at me with grim satisfaction, a dollmaker taking final consideration of his ambitious project. Behind him are two people dressed in suits and another in a sprawling ball gown, faces covered with ornate masks. Each mask is slightly different in make, though they’re all black and include a touch of gold for detail. I can’t guess at the materials, but none are cheaply made, and they look almost heavy. There are cutouts for their eyes, and all three of the strangers stare at me, emotionless.

“I wasn’t aware this was a masquerade,” I say and slowly stand from my seat. My feet immediately wobble in heels—which don’t even make sense to wear, considering that my gown covers my feet completely. But they all insisted.

“Everyone’s faces will be covered except for yours, to honor and showcase Aris,” Silva replies, raising his hand to reveal his own mask. It’s black like the others and shaped like a hawk, which fits his personality quite well.

I don’t try to make sense of their bizarre tradition. I just nod, watching his eyes dart behind me to inspect the room injured by Aris’ wrath. I’ve cleaned up the feathers over the past few days, but that’s about it.

Silva doesn’t comment on the damage, though his face pinches and I wonder what he makes of it. We’ve refused his summons for dinner and took delivered trays, turning away maids and servants while we kept to ourselves.

For a while, we went back and forth on just asking Silva what was done to the amulet, but we ultimately chose not to; Aris saw nothing in his mind hinting at a solution, and I don’t trust the man. We came to an agreement together, and, since the Grand Mage visited us, it finally feels like how it used to be between us. Despite a massive imbalance of power, we’re on the same side again: he doesn’t want me to disappear, and I don’t want to disappear.

He’s been a little more forthcoming, though he’s said nothing about his future plans. Whether he’s put them on hold or abandoned them altogether, I don’t know. I can only guess at what he wants—revenge, most likely, but I’m not sure what comes after that.

“And is it time?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says hesitantly, “but we would invite Aris to now come forward. The gala and banquet are for him.”

It’s about the politest way to say: piss off, Mary.

My heart races as I try to find an excuse that might work, and I settle on the truth. “Uh, well, he doesn’t want to,” I say.

Silva’s amicable smile is gone in an instant. “Why not?” Silva demands.

“He’s… shy.”

Really, Mary?

Silva is just as incredulous. “The Dark Lord Aris is shy?”

“He wants me to be in control for the beginning of the gala,” I say.

The chapter president studies me for a moment, and it’s obvious that he doesn’t believe me. Still, to question me would be to question Aris, and I don’t think he wants to do that. “Very well,” he says at length, motioning me forward. “Let’s go.”

This lie won’t last long, says Aris.

He’s right, but I don’t know what else to do. Why do you even care? I say as I reach Silva at the doorway. I’ve been meaning to ask this for days now, and stress pulls the question from me. Isn’t this what you want, anyway? Here’s your perfect scenario—you can take control whenever you want, and doing so might send me away for good. You can go back to destroying the world and have these people kiss your feet while you’re at it.

He scoffs, offended and… something else, but he hides the emotion before I can identify it. You really think I would let them close enough to kiss my feet?

I roll my eyes, a movement one of the observant masked followers catches. Eyes narrow. Before I can say anything or duck my head in embarrassment, Silva leads us down the hall. The three others take the rear, while I’m in the middle, herded along.

After staying in my room for so long, I’ve forgotten how big this place is. My footing becomes surer by the minute, but even still, each turn and new hallway make my ankles throb. I try to focus on navigation instead of tripping or falling as the sounds of the party get louder.

The upper floors are isolated, maybe off-limits to the members. I should be relieved, since I’m not exactly ready to face these people, but the desolation, paired with the dim lighting and uncanny ambiance only makes my heart thunder. Like before, I’m starting to get a bad feeling about all of this.

---