Page 39 of Possession

The understanding of just how powerless I am shatters me; there are worse things than death and disappearing.

Take control!

He’s itching to do just that, but Aris still hesitates. There is a risk.

Take control of my lips then! They’ll listen to you!

We don’t know what that will do either.

Is he just trying to get out of helping me? Does he want me to die?

Tears fall freely, and I shut my eyes to avoid the sight of Dominachion’s smug face. I hardly know him, but I still feel the sting of betrayal, the hurt of being tricked. This entire night was a farce. Maybe they truly wanted to honor Aris, but they wanted to get rid of me just as badly.

Even with a mind reader, I fell right in their trap, but maybe this is what Aris wanted. Maybe he knew all along.

No. Tell them that I don’t want this. Now, Mary!

“He says to stop!” I scream, glaring at Dominachion through blurry eyes.

There is more to say; I open my mouth to tell them how Aris doesn’t want to be trapped in my body, to explain why he hasn’t come out tonight, to offer anything to give them a moment’s pause, but Dominachion raises a golden, ceremonial dagger, and my sobs make me forget what I need to say.

“You lie,” he hisses.

I try to say that I am not a liar, I wouldn’t lie. For some reason, I want him to know, the thought worthless and stupid, stemming from fright, but I don’t have the chance to talk.

With a hiss, Dominachion plunges the dagger into my stomach, and I am again silent.

Surprised, I have nothing to say or think for a long moment. There isn’t even pain—not until he rips the knife out, jerking my body with the weapon.

Dizziness meshes with agony, and a heavy haze falls over me. As warm liquid seeps through my dress, I think someone must have spilled something on me, but in a sudden, desperate need for reason, I realize that it’s blood. I can’t find the strength to sit up and check for sure.

Aris’ anger, while not new or unexpected, is feral now, and the undercurrent of shock only adds to his rage. He feels slighted, just as betrayed as I am.

I reach out and search for him in my body, but all I can feel is the pain, impossible to ignore and demanding to be felt. My ears are fuzzy, the world slow it’s moving through syrup, and every time I blink, it seems to take longer to pull myself from the darkness.

I lay my head against the stone. Though I was just warm—feverish, with clammy skin—I suddenly shiver in an almost convulsive manner. My thoughts are quickly turning frantic and stupid.

I’m losing too much blood. I’m going cold from losing too much blood.

Dominachion is speaking again, but he isn’t looking at me—he’s addressing the group; I can’t hear what he’s saying over the buzzing in my ears. In one hand is the dagger and in the other is a sparkling champagne flute he raises in toast. On the crystal are bloody fingerprints. Dark, red, and sticky. He is giving a speech. The thought makes me sick.

Aris, I’m…

I don’t know what to say, but he knows exactly how I feel; there’s no need to put words to it. He knows my fear, anger, and pain. He understands how much more I want out of life, how I’ve been cheated. He feels how much I want to live but how I’m starting to get tired.

You will not die. Do you hear me, stupid girl? he yells. You live because I allow it.

I hear the words, but I don’t know what he means by them. Dominachion raises the knife again, and all I can do is brace. And wait.

There is a suction feeling, sudden and strong, and I find myself away again. Tucked inside like a penny in a pocket, covered and safe.

He’s come out. He’s out.

Aris flicks his wrist, and the men holding us down fly across the room, smashing into the far windows. Aris sits us up, finally giving us a view of the cut in my stomach. For a few, tense moments, we watch the blood gush.

Mary? he asks, seeking an evaluation.

I can’t feel the pain anymore. It doesn’t seem like Aris can feel it either, given our body’s preternatural stillness. Where just seconds ago I was trembling, my limbs have now relaxed. But the wetness is spreading; the wound isn’t healing.

---