Page 54 of Obsession

I keep the comment to myself, but Nora smiles like I said it anyway. Maybe she can hear it; I don’t know the extent of her abilities, which terrifies me. She destroyed the allegiance of a patriot with a single touch. That was weeks ago—how about now, after having time to practice her ability?

“Where is Aris?” I ask.

“Busy, I presume. Else he’d be here,” says one of the others. He has a vaguely European accent and is brawny enough to remind me of Ryan as a human.

I look back at Nora, as the others do. Her abilities make her better than them, and they acknowledge this and defer to her.

“He won’t be happy that you’re injured,” she remarks, then sighs. “Whoever knocked over that candle is about to lose their head.”

“That’s how it started?” I ask, surprised.

She shrugs. “How else?”

A candle destroying the home of the Following of the Forewarned. Does she not understand how peculiar and impossible that is? This place is not mundane enough for a mere candle to destroy it. The hallways there are endless, distorted. Sometimes there are doors where there weren’t minutes prior, and there is the vague feeling that turning that knob and entering would be the death of you. This is a house made of something much darker than brick and stone. It’s an evil house, not from the hauntings of furious ghosts, but from its very foundations.

A candle. I almost scoff. I’ve watched them extinguish on their own, and I’ve never seen anyone light one. They couldn’t be the end of such a place.

A section of the manor suddenly collapses in on itself with a crash, and I jump at what I think is the sound of screaming.

“Are people inside?” I ask, horrified.

She considers this. The three others contemplate as well, and they nod as a unit. “Likely so,” says Nora.

“Well, shouldn’t you go and help them?”

The brawny one looks at me like I’m insane. “Why would we do that?”

“It doesn’t seem like rescuers are on the way,” I reply. If no one is coming to help, then we should.

“If they can’t make it out on their own, they don’t deserve to live,” says Nora, studying the flames. “They don’t deserve to serve Aris.”

There is something dark in her expression, and I suddenly understand why Aris chose her—not because she is devout, but because she is cruel.

I glance at her posse to spot a dissent, but they all seem in agreement. “Would you have let me die?” I ask.

“You’re different,” she says. Unlike Elizabeth, there isn’t bitterness in that sentiment. “You’re his favorite.”

The heat is outstanding now, making me sweat, though we’re dozens of yards away. It might be in my head, but the screams seem louder, too. I look at the others to catch their reactions, but there is nothing.

It’s unacceptable.

For weeks, I have done nothing but stand beside Aris and watch the world die, but I can’t do that now. Even though these people are followers of Aris, they’re still people. And they’ve been subjected to die in the worst way: skin burning and charring, blackening and peeling to reveal bone beneath.

“Get them out.”

The four turn to look at me, expressing varying degrees of shock. The burly one looks almost offended, whereas Nora is only mildly curious.

“What?” says one.

“Go inside and save them. I’m Aris’ favorite—you have to do what I say. He’ll be displeased if you don’t.”

They go quiet, exchanging looks.

“If Aris wanted them saved, he would do it himself, or he would have ordered us to,” a quieter individual speaks.

“He is ordering you. Through me.”

For a moment, they look equally unamused, and I understand that I’m playing with fire here, literally. These people are dangerous. And, from the looks on their faces, I see that they intend to remind me just how dangerous they are. Thankfully, Nora breaks the tense silence by raising a hand to the others.

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