Page 197 of Owned

“What—”

“You asked for my help—”

Panic gripped me.

It had worked.

The spell.

The possession.

“Who are you?” I whispered, but the words sounded so far away and a sensation of being pulled backward, wrapped in a blanket that bound my arms to my sides and my legs together. But not my physical body—but me—I found against it and my magic surged, but was quickly overpowered by something else. Something dark that rose and filled me from the soles of my feet to the top of my head.

The grimoire.

“What are you doing?” I tried to scream, but my voice was a whisper. NowIwas the echo between thoughts.

But whose thoughts? Whose presence occupied my body?

“Trust me,” the entity said in my voice.

On unsteady legs, the new occupant of my body walked toward the vanity and braced its hands on the scarred wooden surface. The grimoire, an empty husk now, lay open, blank pages rustling in the breeze.

With a smooth motion, I pushed it off the vanity. It landed with a muffled thud and lay sprawled like a wounded bird on the hardwood floor.

Terror spiked through me, but there was nothing I could do.

“Just relax,” I murmured.

But it wasn’t me—Was I reassuring myself?

“Stop this!”

I looked into the mirror.

My face looked the same.

But there was something different in my eyes.

A change in the color? A change in the arch of my brow?

I couldn’t be sure.

But that wasn’t me staring back.

“What are you doing?” I moaned.

“What is necessary,” my reflection replied.

She plucked the blackened silver dagger from the vanity and pulled back the black lace sleeve of my gown to expose the scars that criss-crossed my wrist.

“No—” I whispered.

She drew the blade down my arm, and I braced myself for the sting of pain that never came.

The smile on her lips was cold as the blood flowed and dripped down onto the vanity.

My lips moved, but the voice that came out was strange. Not mine.

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