Page 10 of Possession

Aris is right—I know he’s right, but I can’t help my useless terror. While I’m panicking, Aris is calculated. I can’t hear his thoughts the way he can mine, but I’m sure he’s running through every possible outcome with the same intelligence it takes to read a book at lightspeed. It would be reassuring, if I knew he was trying to save me, but that isn’t how this works. He doesn’t care if I die—in fact, it’s all the better if I do. Then he’ll be free.

Don’t be so pessimistic, Mary.

My answer is a shaky, gasping breath.

He’s calm, but that’s because he’s killed people before. He enjoys it; I don’t. I’ve never even seen violence this close, not like what just happened—the squelch of flesh, the cry of an innocent man. I can’t handle this.

“Hi there,” I hear from a few feet away, and that’s when I start to really tremble. She’s so close. Too close.

Slowly, I look up to see the blonde woman staring down at me, lips upturned. She studies me on the floor, satisfied by the act of submission.

Get up, Mary. Aris’ voice is strangely soft in my head.

You want me to die, I accuse.

When you die, it will be on my own terms.

Does that mean he wants to kill me himself? I’m too panicked to consider the double meaning.

Promise that you won’t let her hurt me.

He hesitates, though not out of uncertainty; it’s as if he’s taking a breath. I promise you, Mary. She will not harm us.

The words drape over me like a blanket, giving me the strength to stand. I remind myself again and again that there is nothing stronger than Aris, that he will protect the body we share. He has just sworn it, and he is unbeatable.

Normally, recognizing his power would send him on a smug tangent, but for now he just swirls in my chest in encouragement and gentle agreement.

As I stand to my full height, I meet the eyes of the woman from across the invisible barrier. She’s wearing a black bodysuit with a belt of throwing knives. While the majority of her outfit is skin-tight, the sleeves are long and open, probably to conceal more weapons. She’s a few inches taller than me and a few years older, with striking blue eyes and light hair that fans a remarkably beautiful face. There is blood on her cheeks, a scattering of dots like freckles.

“I’m Cera,” she says as her gaze roams over my form. I know I’m not much to look at, but I feel like an insect with her critical eyes on me. I want to send the same energy back at her, but I don’t have the nerve.

I glance at the guard behind her. He’s pawing weakly at his insides, trying to put them back where they belong, but with each movement he grows more tired. Finally, he stills.

“I’m Mary,” I say quietly.

“But you aren’t just Mary, are you?” Cera looks in my eyes, tilting her head to the side.

Should I tell the truth? I ask. She already seems to know.

She is toying with you, Aris agrees.

So, what do I do?

Play along.

“No, it’s not just me,” I say. “Is that why you’re here?”

She pauses, then smiles. “Mary and Aris. You’re both quite famous, you know—as famous as the atom bomb, I’d suspect.”

Aris stirs, pleased. Do you think they have shrines for us?

No, it’s not that kind of famous. People don’t worship us; they fear us.

It’s the same thing, Mary.

“Can we help you with something?” I say, trying to keep my voice light. My hands flatten against my sides so I can try to mask how hard they’re shaking.

A smirk graces her face. “That’s very interesting—your use of ‘we,’” she says.

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