Page 37 of Possession

Aris, a little help?

Oh, I’m thoroughly enjoying this.

Right. Guess I’m on my own, then.

“Well, enjoy!” I say loudly, throwing my hands up for emphasis.

There’s a heavy silence across the room until one clap slowly breeds a hundred. I turn from the crowd to see Silva clapping as well, but his eyes are shrewd.

“Now what?” I ask him, and he gestures to the staircase in front of me like it’s obvious. Beyond Ryan standing guard, we’re the only two on the balcony, which makes me glad no one is witnessing my panic. “I have to go down? Now? Everyone is looking!”

Silva’s sighs, but his irritation doesn’t make me move. I can feel the stares of many guests still on me, though the room is no longer silent—the band has resumed their song, and people are back to talking. I can’t even imagine being down there, mingling among them. Will they treat me like trash, since I’m just Mary, the host, or will they look at me with reverence and awe, like I’m a god? Which would be worse?

“These people came a long way,” Silva says. “They want to see you.”

“Can’t I stay up here then?” I ask. “They’re seeing me from up here.”

He pauses for a few seconds. “Mary, why is Aris not in control? I find it hard to believe that he could resist such a display of devotion.”

“I told you, he’s shy.”

“Shyer than you?”

My lips purse. It’s obvious what he’s trying to do, but I won’t let him bait me into switching. If I go back in, I might disappear again, and I’m not ready for that.

Without further preamble, I force myself down the stairs. Each step is more difficult than the last as my feet wobble in my heels and more eyes turn to watch, but I do my best to ignore them. I tell myself that they probably won’t talk to me. Even though they worship Aris, they’re still afraid of him—and me, by association.

As I reach the base level, the guests move aside on their own volition, giving me a breadth of space in every direction. Testing the waters, I walk forward, watching them dart back as if something is keeping them away. As I go on, some stumble away with gasps, others are cleverer with their movements, but they all let me pass.

It’s like I have the plague, I think glumly.

Servers are the only ones who don’t shy from me, brandishing trays with a wide variety of appetizers. There are flutes of champagne and glasses of wine going around as well, and I pick up a glass of red.

I take a tentative sip. I’m surprised you’re not freaking out about me “poisoning our body,” I remark as I scan the crowd. From the corners of my eyes, I can see about fifty people angled in my direction at any given time. They all avert their gaze as soon as I meet their eyes.

I have to admit that I’m quite curious to see you drunk.

I glance at the clock, wincing to see it’s only nine at night. Well, we have some time to get there.

His amusement is familiar and comforting, and I wish I could wrap it around me and bury my head in it. I take another, longer drink of wine.

***

By the time I finish my glass, the mood has changed in the ballroom. Even Aris admits that something feels off, but the best he can tell me is that they aren’t happy that he isn’t present. The sentiment annoys me—not just because it makes me seem irrelevant, but because Aris is here. He’s been commenting on things all night. Me being in control doesn’t erase him in the slightest.

By their logic, when he’s in control, I’m not there. And that is not true.

There are eight courses served at tables. The seating is assigned, and I’m placed between Silva and Dominachion. Ryan looms behind our table in the shadows, and, for some reason, his beastly presence comforts me.

Between courses, there is dancing and speeches, though no one makes the mistake of trying to get me to partake in either. From the moment I take my seat, I don’t leave it again. Part of me wishes I could enjoy this. The food is world class, this house is incredible, and I look beautiful. I just can’t get over the feeling that I’m the weird kid in class with the pity invite.

By the time the courses finish and the revelry die down, it’s nearly midnight. I’m expecting a dismissal when Dominachion clinks a spoon against his wine glass. The large room almost immediately quiets, and heads swivel, watching and waiting to see what their leader has to say; he’s treated like a god in his own right.

Pleased, Dominachion stands. “Before we conclude our evening, there is something I want to say to our esteemed members and, of course, our guest of honor.”

My eyes flit behind him as a group of men wheel in what looks like a stone slab. It’s nothing special with a gray, concrete-looking surface and symbols etched onto the sides, but Aris’ surprise tells me it’s important. The men stop in what is almost the dead center of the room, creating an eyesore on the dance floor as they collapse the platform and its wheels.

What is that?

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