Page 62 of Obsession

He’s more affected than I thought. He would never admit to a mistake—especially if he hadn’t even made one.

Aris blinks again, eyes clearer as he looks around the kitchen. “Well, then. Should we go house hunting, Mary?”

Followers all over the world were ordered to halt their evil schemes to play realtor. We flit between dozens of locations—cathedrals, castles, mansions, and sprawling estates—roaming while his followers anxiously take note of his every breath. He asks for my opinion, and I say the same thing everywhere we go: “This is fine.”

My mind is caught on this morning, when Aris absentmindedly crushed the countertop. If he falls into another spell of blankness, I wonder what will happen to me. What might he do, even accidentally? I’m not like Ryan or Nora or his creatures. Aris has always been keen to remind me of my fragility. And he’s right; walking on a battered body is a good reminder of that.

I have the unfortunate sense that my end is fast approaching. Walking through places of stone and darkness feels like an omen. I imagine my neck snapping against slate walls, should Aris become careless and fling me aside. I picture Jaegen raising a hand to choke me in a dimly lit hall, Ryan discovering my treachery and running me through with his ax. Every corridor is sullied by the inevitable future.

I watch Aris, nervous that he will have a slip around one of his followers. If they notice and inform him what happened, he’d suspect me as soon as he returns to himself. And he would deal with me promptly. Aris has been tolerant, but he could never excuse the fact that I toyed with his mind.

Yet, my anxiety is unwarranted; his fog from this morning has lifted and he is sharp again. Several times, I catch him glancing my way, aware of my unease and confused by it. Even knowing that I’ve caught his attention isn’t enough to correct my behavior.

Maybe part of me wants to get caught.

He hurt me, and I want revenge. Plain and simple. But keeping secrets weighs on me; I’m not made for it. I’d much rather bludgeon his head and splatter his brains—classic, easy violence, but I have been denied this.

I have to destroy him from the inside. The way that he destroyed me.

Chapter fifteen

Aris eventually decides on a castle in Denmark. It had a name, once, owned by a family for hundreds of years, but whatever it was doesn’t matter anymore. Formerly, it was a historical sight, with tours and everything, but no longer. Aris’ followers have been sent to prepare the place for the two of us: burning hedge mazes, replacing paintings with surviving works from the former estate, destroying display cabinets to free artifacts.

We watch this for an hour or so before Aris gets bored and takes us to conquer Copenhagen. We take a high vantage to watch his creatures wreak havoc. There are some people, not many, that I spot between smoking, colorful buildings, carrying children and other belongings.

But they die, falling limp like roadkill.

“You have seen much disaster and destruction,” Aris says at one point. “Do you see now that it is the same? None of it matters.”

I pause, hating that I do understand. After a hundred deaths, what is a thousand? Another thousand? As we watch the people from high above, scrambling, they almost look like insects.

Ants, Jaegen said.

It snowed a lot where I was from. It wasn’t uncommon for a blizzard to create feet of ice and snow. After such a storm, shoveling the driveway with the temperature in the negatives, it was impossible to remember that every snowflake was unique, to differentiate between them.

That’s the only way to explain how it feels, watching them.

I know that they are people. I know that they are unique. Some prefer their eggs scrambled and others like them poached. They take their time selecting shampoo. They dutifully schedule their doctor’s appointments. The fear that they feel in their last moments is very real.

They are people. They are like me, I remind myself. And yet, there’s just too much snow.

“What does matter?” I ask.

Aris’ eyes dart to my cheeks, where several of my scratches have begun scabbing over. “Not much,” he replies, after a moment.

We turn back to the carnage, though Aris is soon satisfied. We travel to another city.

After a long day of watching people die, we return to Aris’ new castle. Things have turned around in just a few hours; there is new furniture and decor, and electric lights have been replaced with thin candles, wax already dripping down their sides.

Aris is pleased; I am tired. It’s been a full day, and my body is incredibly sore from yesterday. I haven’t seen a doctor, but I think I might’ve broken a few ribs and I’m badly scraped and bruised. I’m inclined to find whatever room Aris picked for me and fall into a deep sleep.

Then, I think of the bodies from today, and the rage in Jaegen’s eyes and his invisible grip on my neck.

I have a task. I made a bargain.

“Will you show me to my room?” I ask Aris.

The followers around us tense as Aris tenses. After a pause, Aris waves an impatient hand at them, and they scramble.

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