by Mark Ayre
Sam stepped through the front door of the first and only home she had known. The place in which she had enjoyed a happy childhood and endured a difficult adolescence.
With a bag over her shoulder, she went upstairs. She didn’t rush but took little time packing. She had few possessions, very little that mattered a great deal to her. Some clothes, some books, a few photos of her parents. Of the younger Sam and Benny. Of her happy years.
Her bag full, she came downstairs. Her plan had been to leave through the same door she had entered. At the last minute, she turned and made her way through the living room and into the kitchen.
A long time ago, Benny had replaced the table at which Sam had been sitting, eating bacon, the last time she had seen her parents alive. The orientation was the same, and Sam had always found it difficult to eat there. When Benny was in a good mood, they would eat in the living room. When she had displeased him, at the table.
He always made her sit in the seat with the oven at her back and the kitchen door ahead and to her left, beyond the fridge. This was where she had sat on the day her parents died, and taking up this position since had always brought on waves of memories. Always, she would cry. Often, she would leave the room in floods of tears to be sick in the bathroom. As she had been after the policeman had told her what had happened to her parents.
Since her mum and dad died, she could not remember ever sitting in this chair willingly.
She did so now.
The chair scraped along the floor as she pulled it back. Though she felt stronger now than ever she had before, she still hesitated before claiming the seat. It was a slow descent from standing to sitting.
As soon as her bum was pressed to the wood of the chair, she heard her father whistling. Heard her mother shouting to Benny. She could smell the bacon and the scent of her mother’s perfume and her father’s aftershave as they met in the kitchen, as they kissed. She heard the back door click open and heard their final words.
Love you, sweetheart. Love you, darling.
Her palms were pressed face down on the table. She was trembling. Fighting the urge to cry, the urge to run.
She heard the front door open and close. This was not a memory.
Footsteps in the hall and then the living room. Sam had pushed the kitchen door, but it was ajar, rather than closed. It creaked as it swung open and Benny stepped into the room.
He looked a little better than he had a week ago, but not by much. His skin was still pale, and he was clutching his chest. With his free hand, he clung to the kitchen door handle as he turned into the room.
Upon seeing Sam, voluntarily in the seat, his eyes widened, and such shock seemed to take him Sam thought he might collapse.
“You’re home,” he said.
Sam had looked to him as he had entered. Now she looked away, faced ahead. Her palms remained face down on the table.
“I called an ambulance,” she said. “Why aren’t you in hospital? Did the doctor let you go?”
“No doctor. No hospital,” he said. “I ran before the ambulance arrived. Been sleeping rough.”
“That was stupid.”
“You want me to go to prison, that it?”
The anger was back. Despite his poor health, it seemed to give him strength enough to remove his hand from the kitchen door. What it no longer did was frighten her.
“There’ll be no prison for either of us,” she said. “Stephanie was lying. The police don’t know it was us who took Liam, and now they never will. His body was found in the grounds of a mansion earlier this week. There’s evidence he arrived under his own steam. We’re off the hook. For him and for Titus. Trust me.”
Benny stared, then beamed. She looked to that smile. As boyish as ever. The other side of Benny. He tried to come to her, but the loss of anger diminished his strength, and he stumbled. To avoid hitting the tiles, he had to grab the other end of the table at which Sam sat. Breathing hard, he said, “Sammy, that’s brilliant. We can get back to normal.”
Sam sighed. She looked from her brother to the kitchen door. Saw her mum and dad. Saw their smiling faces. Heard their final words.
“I love you,” she said. “I love you both so much.”
Benny followed Sam’s eye line to the door.
“What?”
Shaking her head, Sam rose. From the floor, she grabbed her bag, which collected Benny’s gaze as surely as a magnet will collect a file if the distance is short enough.
Before he could ask, she said, “I’m moving out.”
“No.”
To this, she didn’t respond. Moving around the table, she made for the back door.
Though he hadn’t the strength, Benny released the table and stumbled to intercept her. In doing so, he fell, crumbled to the floor in front of, but not in the way of, Sam’s exit.
She looked at him. “Go to the hospital, Benny.”
“You can’t leave.”
“I have to. It’s best for us both.”
Moving to the back door, she took the handle. As she did, he spun on the tiles and grabbed her ankle. He tugged at her with what little strength he had as she opened the door.
“You can’t go. You can’t leave after everything I’ve done for you. You can’t.”
“Let go of me, Benny.”
“No. I can’t. You’re not going anywhere.”
Sam closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. She yanked her foot, and his hands slipped away. Without him restricting her, she was able to pull open the door and step outside. In the street waited Amira, leaning against the car Sam had stolen. She had her arms folded but didn’t appear unhappy. Upon first meeting Amira, Sam had found her frightening, but she was warming to Mercury’s best friend fast. She was excited for them to live together.
“Sammy, come back,” came the wheezing voice of her brother. “You need me.”
“No, Ben. For so many years that’s what you’ve told me, and I’ve believed you, but it isn’t true. It’s never been true. Truth is, you need me. But until you get yourself together, until you process and deal with your anger, your insecurities, you won’t get me back. Go to hospital, seek medical help for both your physical and mental wounds. Then you can call me. But not before.”
She took a step from the door. Benny began to cry.
“Please,” he said. “Where will you go?”
She looked back. “In the long term, I don’t know. Right now. I’m hungry. I fancy some breakfast. In fact, you know what I’m craving?”
She met his eyes. “I’d love some bacon.”
And she closed the door and walked up the drive to meet Amira.
One Month Later
One of the multitudes of benefits of living within the body of Olivia Michaels was owning properties all over the world.
With Cleo gone, Heidi should have felt secure. However, despite being human, Mercury had proven time and again that she was not to be underestimated. Not to mention that Amira could only hold Aurora at bay for so long. When Cleo’s lieutenant returned, she would kill Mercury, which was great. But she would be displeased with Heidi, and if the two were to meet again, Aurora would surely make that displeasure known. Possibly over several long weeks.
As such, Heidi had decided to go away for a while. From the only country on Earth she had experienced, she had flown somewhere where the beaches were hotter, the tans more plentiful, and no one judged you for drinking in the morning. As long as what you were drinking came with an umbrella.
Heidi’s constitution meant she could never get drunk. In the last few weeks, she had none the less become partial to a Sex on the Beach. Following a morning swim, having dried off, she made her way onto the balcony of Olivia’s beautiful beachside home and called for Kevin. When he arrived, she asked him to bring her favourite drink.
“Of course, Ma’am.”
As yet, she had not infected any of her staff. Why bother? She had mounds of money, and they did whatever she asked for a pittance. It was all of the servitude with none o
f the annoying, cloying devotion—a true win-win.
Soon enough, she would have to infect some of them, or those in the local area. After all, while she enjoyed her own company, she could not bear to leave her kind suffering forever. While she could not save them all, not now Cleo’s power was gone, she was determined to bring through a few. Once she was sure Aurora and Mercury were off her back.
She closed her eyes. The sea lapped against the beach less than a hundred metres away. This part of the shoreline was exclusive. There were no children. She found the sound of the tide soothing.
Another sound she enjoyed: the clink of her cocktail glass being placed on her coaster. Beaming, she said, “Thank you, dear.”
“That’s no problem.”
Heidi’s eyes snapped open. She sat up as Mercury dropped into the lounger beside her. Like Heidi, Mercury was wearing a bikini, sunglasses, and a large thatched hat. Mercury also wore a long, flowing white top which came halfway down her thighs.
Frustrated she had allowed the shock to get to her, Heidi lay back. Her breathing had become ragged. Infuriating. She forced it into a smooth rhythm and attempt to act as though this was a meeting she had not only expected, but that caused her zero bother.
“You needn’t have flown out,” she said. “I was going to send you a postcard.”
“What can I say,” said Mercury. “I fancied a bit of sun. I’ve had a tough few months, you know?”
Oblivious to the tension on the balcony, the sea continued to lap against the sand. The sound no longer seemed soothing. Already bored with it, Heidi decided to drop the act.”
“I thought you might leave me alone.”
“Did you think I’d be afraid?”
“No,” said Heidi with a mirthless chuckle. “We know each other too well for me to labour under that illusion, don’t we?”
“I would say so. So why?”
“Well, after all, didn’t I help save the world? One might assume that would earn me some grace.”
“You did,” said Mercury. “But you did it for selfish reasons.”
“Ah, but I did do it.”
“You also murdered my mother and the man I loved.”
“And you’re still hung up on that, are you?”
“Oh yes, I’m petty like that.”
“So it would seem. Would it help at all if I apologised?”
“Would you mean it?”
Heidi collected her drink, sipped. “I don’t suppose so, no.”
“Then, no.”
“Shame.”
“After all, was it not you who told me that action doesn’t matter, it’s intention?”
“Did I say that?”
“You did.”
“Well, aren’t I clever?”
Mercury made a so-so seesaw gesture with her hand. The two women fell into a period of silence. Both were listening to the ocean, feigning enjoyment of the peaceful melody of the sea.
“I didn’t think you’d be the one to find me,” Heidi said at last.
“Then, who?”
“Aurora.”
Mercury chuckled. “Aurora’s gone.”
“Gone? You didn’t plunge a blade through the heart of your best friend, did you?”
“Didn’t have to. Remember the ritual that tore you from me and allowed Olivia to summon you into her?”
“Vividly. It made me far richer, but I was happier in you.”
“Such flattery. Well, we did it again. Stephanie became Aurora’s hostess.”
Heidi looked baffled. “I thought the new vessel had to accept the possession to make relocation work?”
“They do, and she did. Since losing her parents, Stephanie had been unhappy, angry at the world, angry at herself. A sad case. I might have felt sorry for her, had she not murdered Trey.” Mercury paused, thinking of her lost friend. “Anyway. She called Aurora because she had nothing left. I think she hoped her body would be used to cause some degree of destruction, even if she no longer lived within it.”
“And did she get her wish?”
“No. Sam performed the ritual, and I murdered Aurora the moment she entered Stephanie. So far as we know, you’re the last possessed on Earth.”
“And you’ve come to bring the count to zero?”
“I have.”
Heidi shook her head. She drank more of her drink as she considered her options. How worried should she be? With her speed and strength, she should be able to kill Mercury without a struggle; before Mercury even knew what was happening. The meddlesome human might have reinforcements, but surely nothing that could challenge Heidi if she were smart.
“Have you thought this through?” Heidi asked at last.
“Oh yes.”
“I’m not sure you can have. See, it’s not only that you can’t kill me. Even if you succeed, do you not fear prison?”
From within her white, flowing top, Mercury removed a blade and placed it on the table to her left, on the other side to Heidi.
“No one saw me arrive,” she said. “You only have one member of staff working today and that member of staff works for us. He’s a plant.”
“Oh very clever.”
“I thought so.”
“Still, there’s the matter that you’ll never get the chance to kill me. I’m stronger, faster. This really is an unwinnable situation.”
Mercury shrugged, looked out to sea. “We’ll see.”
“We shall.”
Heidi took her drink, drained it, replaced the glass. The stench of the knife was on the air. Disgusting. Raising a hand, Heidi made to call Kevin to bring her another drink, then remembered, her servant was not her servant but Mercury’s employee. With a grumble, she lowered her hand.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said.
“Maybe not, but I had to. It started with us, didn’t it? Has to end with us too. For my mother and my boyfriend, for Will and Gina and the daughter you orphaned, and for Liz and Trey. For all the lives you’ve taken or destroyed, I had to come. Had to end it.”
Heidi shook her head. This had gone far enough.
With her speed and might, she swung. She would grab Mercury’s head and snap her neck in one quick move. Then it would be done.
Except, something was wrong. She did swing to the side, but her hand wasn’t moving through the air unless the air had turned to jelly. Rather than reach Mercury, she slid from the lounger to the floor. Face first.
This was undignified. Embarrassing. It was not something the real Olivia Michaels would have tolerated, and neither could Heidi. She began to push herself up through the invisible jelly.
Mercury was standing. She moved around her chair and took the knife, held it high. For some reason, the invisible jelly in the air didn’t seem to be affecting her.
Heidi climbed onto the lounger. She told herself she was going to stand, but when Mercury approached, she found she could not. This impudent human reached out a hand, took Heidi’s shoulder, and pushed the most powerful living being on Earth back into her chair.
“I wasn’t sure quite how much sedative to put in your drink,” said Mercury. “Looks like I got it about right.”
Heidi found the strength to look at her empty glass. Her eyes widened in horror. She reached a hand through the jelly and knocked over the glass, as though this could undo the sedative’s effects. It fell from the table. She didn’t hear if it smashed or not.
By now, Mercury was sitting on the edge of the lounger, by Heidi’s legs. Knife in hand.
Heidi tried to raise her arms, but with one firm hand, Mercury made them go away. She was staring at Heidi without humour, but with a look of quiet triumph.
“Please,” said Heidi. “Don’t.”
Mercury shook her head. With one hand she held Heidi at the shoulder and pressed her into the chair. With the other, she raised the knife.
Heidi said, “I’m sorry.”
Mercury raised her eyebrows. “Are you though?”
Somehow, Heidi managed a long, heavy sigh. “No,
I don’t suppose I am.”
“Didn’t think so.” She tapped Heidi on the cheek. “Look on the bright side. All that sedative. This isn’t going to hurt a bit.”
Heidi saw the blade approach and closed her eyes.
She didn’t want to see it end.
One Year Later
Beyond the garden of the home once owned by Will, in a clearing amongst the trees, stood eight tall slabs of stone, upon each of which was carved a few words.
Seven of the stones had stood for an entire year. The eighth a few weeks longer than that. They were showing the first signs of age, though they would stand for many years yet.
At the foot of each stone was a bunch of flowers, lay that morning and looking far fresher than their surroundings.
Through the trees, a path had been laid from the house to this clearing. Now, a year after the events in the maze, four solemn sets of feet trudged up the path, making their way from house to clearing.
Amira came first, all in black, standing tall, proud.
Sam was next, also in black. She couldn’t stand tall and proud because she was carrying Xyla, who had recently learned to walk and who had only the previous day spoken her first word. She was a champion wriggler. And it was taking all of Sam’s strength and concentration not to drop the toddler onto the path.
Behind Sam, Mercury and Edie walked side by side, hand in hand. Edie was as strong as ever, but there were tears in her eyes, as always there were when she visited this place.
They stopped in the clearing, in a line, facing the headstones beneath which no bodies lay. They were for memorial purposes only.
Having been the first to be laid, Gina’s was in the centre of the clearing. Will’s stone, placed second, was to its left. Each had the name of the person they were remembering and a message beneath. A beloved father. A wonderful mother.
Edie went to her knees between these two stones while Sam walked to the one on the far right. On this stone was the name Kayla, and the caption A missed mummy. Lowering to one knee, Sam held Xyla forward to see her mother’s stone. The baby babbled. She couldn’t understand. One day she would. Mercury thought she would appreciate the gesture.
Sam also looked to the stone immediately to the left of Kayla’s. The only shared stone. Liam and Pluto. Though there was no body beneath the stone, they had once shared one, so it felt natural they would share a stone.
