Page 109 of Obsession

“Where am I?” I say.

The doctor’s accent was American, but that doesn’t mean much. We could be anywhere.

“You will know when Aris wants you to know,” Silva replies.

I try my best to school my reaction. This is a direct order from Aris—keeping me in the dark? Am I a prisoner?

“Is there anything he has authorized for you to tell me?”

He smiles now that I am bothered. “Just that he will see you soon.”

“What, and that’s supposed to scare me?”

“It should. Very much so. You have lost your favor with him.”

“Come to rub it in?”

Silva crosses his arms over his chest. “Perhaps a little. Do you think you don’t deserve it? Everything has played out exactly how I told you it would, and you are all the worse for not listening. Now, you’ll be punished.”

I’d be lying if I said his words don’t chill me, but I do my best to act indifferent. “If he wanted me dead, I’d be dead,” I say.

“There are worse things than death.”

I swallow.

Coming from anyone else, the words would be comical. It’s the kind of crap a fourteen-year-old would write in a journal. But kids like that write those things because they’re afraid of their own demise and want to feel better, to convince themselves that it is a boon to escape this world. The poetry doesn’t stem from an actual understanding of horror.

But I understand. I have watched people scream until their voices run raw and they are consumed by agony and are finally, finally silent. That silence is terrifying to so many people—what happens next? What if there’s nothing? But there is no world where “nothing” is better than eternally screaming.

When you die, you end. There’s an element of peace to that, a mercy—especially if you are in great pain. Yes, the form that you had is gone, and that is unfortunate and frightening, but remaining trapped and suffering is worse.

I swallow again. My mouth is suddenly dry.

What is Aris going to do to me?

Chapter twenty-six

After Silva leaves, I take my pill.

Almost immediately, it feels like there are textbooks on my eyes and keeping them open is insufferable, painful. I settle into bed, hardly feeling a sting when I lay on my back.

When I open my eyes again, I see Aris.

At first, I think I’m dreaming, since the room is dark and I can hardly make out his face, but it is assuredly him. I know this because of the shudder that races through me—an instinctive response to the sight of a predator, something that has no respect for lower creatures because… why should it?

He knows I am awake; he is watching me. Still, I don’t say anything. He can read my mind now, with both runes gone, but that gives him no advantage; I’m not thinking about anything but the throbbing, pulsing need to touch him.

His eyes are darker than the lightless room, and completely unreadable. No emotion is there.

I wonder why he hasn’t spoken, and then answer my own question: to speak would be to acknowledge what I did. It would reopen the wound, and he will not invite that pain into himself.

Finally, Aris steps forward, hesitating for only a moment before gripping my uninjured wrist. I don’t have time to ask what he’s doing before the room and the bed disappear, and I stumble onto dewy grass.

It’s twilight, the sky dimming, but the brightness is a shock to my eyes. As they adjust and I understand my surroundings, I glance at Aris for an explanation, but he is not looking at me, just at the disjointed building.

He’s taken me to the old manor, half consumed in the blaze set by Jaegen. Some wings have completely collapsed in on themselves—charred and black. Others look like they’ve been cleaved in two like a girl’s dollhouse or a body in an anatomy book. These rooms have been impacted by the elements, with leaves dusting the floors, lace curtains stained brown from mud and rain.

Other areas are enclosed, untouched by the blaze and perfectly preserved—connected halls and tunnels.

---