Page 27 of Obsession

“We will never be allies,” Silva says, breaking the film that his faltering light created. “But we need not be hostile. Certainly, there are things you would like to ask me, ways I could help you…?”

My eyes narrow. An olive branch. “How would I know you aren’t lying?”

“You are so suspicious now,” he remarks with a wry smile. “Well, I wouldn’t lie because Aris wouldn’t like that. He wants you to be happy here.”

“Happy. Here.” My voice is flat.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. This is your home now—you’d best embrace it. Embrace Aris.” When I don’t immediately respond, Silva continues, “Wear his clothes, follow his whims. Let go of whatever attachment you have to your world, and be his pet—oh, I see you don’t like that word! Fine then. Call it what you want, but be what he wants. Remove the magic you’re using to guard your thoughts, and let him in. He’s already won, Mary. Don’t fight it anymore.”

His words hit like a massive wave. Dragged underwater, I toss and turn with the break of the tide.

How did he know the exact thing to say, what would cut deepest?

I try to take a breath, and it’s like there’s water in my lungs. I flail—struggle to speak. Do they all know that I've blocked Aris from reading my mind, already? Do they suspect a scheme?

I am so clearly out of my league. But I’ve always been, and I’ve gotten this far. The thought should be encouraging, but it almost depresses me. I’ve gotten here not from swimming on my own but because a riptide dragged me out, giving me just enough oxygen to breathe.

“Why did you want to say that to me?” I eventually ask, anxiously twisting my necklace.

He shrugs and reaches for his book again, losing whatever edge he just tried to cut me with. “Just a piece of advice,” he says, and offers nothing more.

For a few moments, I stare at him in disbelief, annoyed that he’s disregarded me, annoyed that I care. He doesn’t have any power here—why am I giving it to him?

He must sense my irritation; his lips quirk. "Something to ask, Mary?"

“Where is Dominachion?” I demand, applying some authority to my voice. This conversation will not have been a waste of time. I will not be intimidated; I will get my answers.

Silva turns a page. “Aris disposed of him and the other leaders of the Following.”

But he kept Silva alive? I watch him, trying to gauge if he’s lying or not, but he gives nothing away.

“Why do you ask?” he says. He isn’t even looking at me.

“Why wouldn’t I? He wanted me dead, and he was in charge.”

“Dominachion was never our leader; Aris is.”

“Even after disappearing for centuries and leaving you all behind?”

“Even after,” he says. “Now, is there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

Actually, yes. I have lots of questions. But he makes me feel little, talking down to me like this. I weigh the worth of my ego, then finally say, “Yes. What happened at the Institute?"

"You'll need to be more specific."

“Who betrayed the mages?”

“Who do you think?” Silva turns a page again. He can’t possibly be reading so quickly—is he just trying to make me feel insignificant?

Why am I subjecting myself to this?

I set my jaw. “You tell me. Only mages could let other people into the Institute, so someone had to—”

“And Aris was inside of a mage, controlling him at will.”

Henry.

Silva continues, “He could leave the boy’s body when he wished, and return just as easily, altering his mind to erase the gaps in memory.”

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