Page 61 of Possession

I start squirming, but Henry’s grip only gets tighter, to the point that it’s inarguable. My healing wound stings at my side, itching and finally forcing me to settle. Bodies tense side-by-side, we go still as the sprinkling of glass trickles to a stop.

What’s happening?

Don’t worry, Mary.

Did you do that? Why did you do that?

So quick to blame me.

If it wasn’t you, then what happened?

Aris doesn’t respond, and this time Henry relents when I push against him. His arms stay wrapped around my waist, so strong and steady, and I inspect them for cuts, releasing a sigh of relief at the lack of anything too concerning. Leaning forward to look around his broad shoulders, I nervously take in the wreckage: the large windows exploded and are empty except for stubborn shards sticking to the corners of the frames.

In front of the windows is a figure.

I quickly get to my feet, only to lurch back at the sight of what awaits us. I’m so panicked that I don’t feel the pain of my bare feet crunching on glass, not noticing Aris taking control to steady us.

The being before us is immense, larger than I remember—have I just forgotten, or has he grown? We look him over again and again, and all I can think is that his sheer mass is impossible. Head brushing the ceiling, he hasn’t even unfolded to his true height, shoulders bunched as he leans forward, further straining his bulging muscles.

He is a humanoid with theoretically the same biology, but he is not a human being. Without a shirt—thankfully wearing pants—I want to study him just as I wanted to study Henry, though for very different reasons. There is no aesthetic to the defined, bulbous body before me, mere scientific fascination.

His pectorals are the size of car wheels, and the muscles by his neck—traps, if I remember my anatomy—are the most distinctive of all, like beach balls and twice the size of his head. Veins stick out along his biceps and thick neck, long and thick liked piped tubing.

He is abhorrent, and I don’t know what to expect; I don’t know what he can do. He crashed through the window and stands on glass, but there’s not a scratch on him; he is completely unscathed.

He has found us. I hadn’t known he was looking, but then, of course he was. Of course he couldn’t let us go.

Even though Aris is, well, Aris, and even though he’s in front, I’m still terrified. I can’t imagine anything besting what stands before me—because this is the epitome of strength and power, the same way that Aris is the epitome of chaos.

The thought of Aris makes me hesitate. I don’t sense any anger or need to strike out and feel a string of betrayal, almost as strong as my shame; I should have seen this coming. Did you bring him here? Did you know that he was coming?

Of course I knew; I know many things. But I didn’t summon him, if that’s what you’re implying. When I created him, I made him a bloodhound of sorts; he can always find me.

What? You didn’t think to mention that, considering that we’re running away from his crazy group and all?

He isn’t loyal to them; he is loyal to me.

How do you know?

His mind is open; he is willing to share. He didn’t know that I wanted to… stay with my host. That’s why he didn’t intervene that night. Of course, I will still punish him. He is not blameless—I told him to protect you, and he abandoned that front. Now, he is utterly loyal.

Back to his unreliable mind reading.

Aris’ annoyance flares as he focuses back on Ryan, ignoring me. “You could have knocked,” Aris says dryly.

In response, Ryan wordlessly falls to one knee, the ground shaking from the force of his weight, and lowers his head in submission.

The meaning is clear: I am here to serve. Guide me, lead me. Command me.

Aris walks forward casually and stops before the giant. “Look at me.”

Ryan slowly obeys, face open and emotional. It’s no mystery how he’s feeling—his forehead has smoothed upon seeing Aris, shoulders loosening, lips twisting as he sighs in what seems like relief. He’s like a man in a desert, finally now with something to drink.

It’s uncanny, borderline nonsensical. I don’t know if I’ve cared about anything the way that Ryan cares about Aris, and it doesn’t seem like Aris has done anything to earn such worship.

To serve me is an honor. He understands that.

Henry finally gets to his feet, catching our attentions, and Ryan’s head follows Aris’ cursory glance, thick neck cracking as he twists it. The gesture is entirely threatening.

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