by Mark Ayre
To Sammy’s quizzical look, she said, “If I can see their faces, I’ll kill you.”
In most cases, possession destroys the human soul; kills the human to whom the occupied body had belonged. Even so, Mercury had struggled to find the mental strength to kill demons. If crazy, bloodthirsty, the infected were still human. Thus, Mercury could not bring herself to kill them.
“Ready,” said Sammy’s father.
Mercury was on screen.
In a black blouse and blue jeans, a glass of white wine in her hand, she looked far more respectable than she did in her current skimpy getup.
This wasn’t Mercury.
Heidi.
While Mercury stared at her image, Sammy left the room. Returning, he held a bottle of white minus one serving, and a fresh glass. Placing the glass on the sofa side table, he poured an amount to match Heidi’s.
“She’s excited to speak with you,” said Sammy.
“To me,” said Mercury.
“What?”
“She’ll be speaking to me, not with me. It won’t be a conversation, will it? She’s a recording.”
Sammy shrugged, as though he didn’t know. Nodding at his father, he slipped from the room with the wine bottle. As the father pressed play, Mercury heard the fridge open. As it closed, Heidi began to shift, straightening her back and clearing her throat.
“Thank you, boys,” she said. “You can leave.”
If it was weird seeing herself on screen, in an outfit she didn’t recognise, a film she didn’t remember, hearing her voice was too much. So shocked and sickened was Mercury, she slid backwards, falling into the proffered chair, next to the glass of wine.
Sammy returned into the room. Together, he and his father departed into the hall.
“They gone?” said Heidi, smiling. As Mercury’s eyes widened, Heidi laughed. “Don’t worry. I can’t see you. No magic trick here. I’m pre-recording. A one-way conversation, though feel free to heckle.”
Frozen to her seat, Mercury didn’t have the strength to speak, let alone hurl insults at the screen. Dazed at seeing herself, she tried to recover, knowing when she did, anger would follow.
“This is all a tad strange, I know,” Heidi said. “You’re probably wondering why I’m bothering to make this message.”
Mercury wasn’t wondering anything.
“I felt it was important,” Heidi went on. “We spend all this time together. Closer than two souls could ever be without the standard possession bonding. We share your body. I act with your hands, your eyes, your mouth. Often, I use your bare chest and what’s between your legs and I must say, it’s been a real help that your look conforms with standard ideas of beauty. Laars, who I was supposed to possess, had a certain something, but not like you. Besides, I prefer to be female.”
While talking, Heidi’s finger absently tapped her glass. When a nail caught, a ping resulted. Attention caught by the sound, Heidi glanced at the wine as though she’d forgotten the drink. Noticing, she smiled and raised the glass.
“Sammy should have poured you some,” she said. “Let’s share a drink. Come on. I’m sure you need it.”
Bringing the wine to her nose, she gave it a sniff.
“It’s good stuff. You might think demons, as you humans will insist on calling us, wouldn’t be partial to a tipple, but we are. Come on, at the same time. 1, 2, 3…”
She tilted her head and took a deep swig.
Mercury took her glass and soaked the floor with her wine.
Heidi rolled her eyes. “That’s wood, sweetie. A slip hazard. Health and safety will not be happy.”
The glass slid from between Mercury’s fingers and shattered. No one entered. Heidi laughed.
“Did you drop your glass? Silly girl. I’ve already told you this is a recording. I can’t see you. But I know you. Our souls have rubbed together, and I can predict with a fair amount of accuracy what you’ll do at any given moment. You didn’t drink the wine because you were suspicious. You tipped it on the floor, quite unnecessarily, as a point of rebellion. You feel lost, out of control, boxed in. You were signalling you can still control certain aspects of your life. I applaud that. Well done.”
Heidi drank more wine. Mercury tried to process the information. If Heidi knew what she was going to do and when, how could she ever be free?
“You did the right thing,” Heidi said, cutting through her thoughts. “After Sammy poured my glass, we spiked the wine with a sedative. Had you drunk, you’d now be asleep.”
Another sip of wine. It was almost gone. Mercury still felt frozen to her seat.
“You’re probably wondering: if I knew you were going to pour it away, why bother spiking the wine? Well, I believe that adage, better safe than sorry. I was sure you were going to dispose of the wine, but it was a prediction. If I was wrong, you’re asleep, so I won’t be embarrassed. I will have wasted my time, but in case you hadn’t noticed, I love to talk. Even if you aren’t going to watch this far, I’m having a blast chatting.”
The wine was all gone, Heidi placed it at her feet. Mercury checked the spot where it would be and found it amongst the shards of glass recently created. Though she had known Heidi recorded her video in the same seat in which Mercury now sat, seeing the physical evidence sent shivers up her spine.
“One prediction I’m sure of is that you’re coming tonight. That you’ll wake in the bed upstairs and be available to watch my video,” said Heidi. “I thought, after you killed your mother and boyfriend, I’d have the driving seat for good, but I was wrong. I’ve held for a couple of weeks, but you’re getting stronger. Now, as I put the final pieces into place on my big plan, you return. A lesser gal would be frustrated. Not me. Do you know why?”
Though this was a recording, Heidi leaned in, as if expecting Mercury to answer. Fooled, Mercury opened her mouth before realising to speak would be to waste her breath. Unlike the squatter, Mercury didn’t need to hear herself prattle.
“I’ll tell you,” said Heidi. “It’s because I’m desperate to speak to you before you disappear for good, and darling, it will be for good. If you didn’t drink my wine, then enjoy every second you get before sleep because they are your last.”
Heidi stood. As though the TV was a mirror, Mercury did the same. Someone worked the camera, so it remained on Heidi’s face.
“In my species,” said Heidi, “I am but a humble servant. One of the masses. Powerful, immensely powerful by your human standards but nothing compared to my kind’s lord and master, who holds incredible power. Power you couldn’t fathom if given a hundred of your lifetimes to try and…”
Heidi considered.
“We’re not gendered,” she said. “But in your world, men seem to have an unfair share of the power, no?”
She waited. Mercury said nothing.
“It’s so,” said Heidi, “so we’ll go with, she’s coming.”
Heidi chuckled, smacked her hands together. Her smile had become almost insane.
“When you go to sleep, Mercury, I will rise, and the ultimate ritual will begin. I should say, the final ritual. Once my master comes, a mere touch of a human’s flesh and she calls one of ours to this world. With a click of her fingers, you, pesky Mercury, will be gone for good.”
Stepping to the camera, she pressed her smile against it.
“When my master arrives,” Heidi said, “humanity ends.”
Seventeen
Olivia had taken one of the two chairs at her husband’s bedside. The newcomer took the other. Before she agreed to speak, she insisted upon a vodka and lemonade. Heavy on the vodka. When it arrived, she finished it in one go and asked for another.
“It’s been a long trip.”
“Why are you here?” said Olivia. “You said you could save my husband. Explain.”
“Can we wait until my drink’s arrived?”
“That’s what I thought,” said Olivia. “Time waster.”
“If you say so.”
Trey watched his mother. Wonder
ed if she was aware her expression matched that of Vicious, the man she so loathed. In his bed, Harvey was too weak to display emotion. Olivia put a hand on her son’s arm.
“She said she knew Trey,” said Olivia. “Darling, do you know her?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause. The door opened, and a servant appeared with another drink. No one looked at him.
“Trey?” Olivia prompted.
“She’s a police detective,” he said.
At this Vicious’ expression grew more violent. Harvey’s relationship with the police was not fractious, because fractious would be an understatement.
In contrast to Vicious, Olivia broke into a smile.
“An alcoholic police officer, how original.”
The servant placed the vodka in Liz Norton’s hand. “Actually,” she said, taking a sip. “I’m in recovery.”
“Looks like.”
Liz examined the glass. Smiled. “Not from alcohol. I’m a recovering police officer. Certainly, were I still with the force, I wouldn’t be sitting with one of the most notorious criminals of the last fifty years, about to save his life.”
“How?”
The rasping, weak voice came from the bed. All eyes turned to Harvey. His were on the former detective. Olivia sneered.
“Presumably, our friend will need another drink before she tells us anything. That seems to be the pattern.”
Having finished her second vodka, Liz placed a hand on the servant’s arm—“another would be great.”—before returning to Olivia: “But I’ll talk now if you’re happy to proceed.”
“We don’t trust pigs.”
This guttural hiss had emanated from Vicious. From behind Liz, he stared, looming over her. Tilting her head back, she seemed not in the least intimidated.
“Fascinating. Personally, I’ve always found cats suspicious.”
While Harvey, Vicious and Olivia watched Liz, and the servant scampered off to get more vodka, Trey found his eyes wondering. Of their own volition, they went to the silver switch Vicious had come so close to flicking.
Had Liz been a couple of minutes later, it might have been too late. Had Vicious flicked the switch, Harvey would be gone. Trey would be grieving. Might that have been best?
Cutting through his thoughts, Liz said, “Trey will already have filled you in on what happened in the woods, I’m sure. He and his siblings succeeded in summoning a demon into the body of a woman named Mercury.”
“You what?” hissed Vicious.
Eyes like cold, deadly steel, Harvey turned to his son.
Olivia said, “What sort of a name is Mercury?” Then, realising, “Hey, didn’t you say the ritual failed? The attempt killed Carl and Beth?”
Trey opened his mouth, but no words emerged. His eyes flicked to the door but attempting to escape would be useless with Vicious around. Liz did not seem to notice she had dropped Trey in trouble.
“She’s named after Freddie Mercury, I believe,” she said.
This at least drew attention from Trey to the ex-detective, who seemed to revel in it, perhaps under the vodka’s influence.
“It’s straightforward, Harvey. Your children conjured a demon and Carl and Beth died in the process. Having proved it could be done, Trey no doubt wanted to rush home and save his father. Alas, demons are unreasonable. This demon, going by the name of Heidi, oversaw two more possessions in short order.”
“You filthy little—”
“Come now,” said Liz, cutting off Vicious. “Don’t have a go at Trey. Heidi kept him because he’s remarkable. He was involved in all three possessions; he alone survived each unharmed. This boy is an asset.”
Liz gave him a thumbs up. Trey could not fathom her kindness. When she’d arrested him, she hadn’t been gentle, and he’d escaped from under her nose. He’d been responsible for several deaths. Something was going on, but he didn’t know what.
Not one for words, Vicious grumbled something. Olivia took it up.
“I believe the Pitbull is incensed because, due to my son’s lies, Harvey gave up on life. Harvey offers Victor gainful employment when no one else will, so naturally, he’s upset. As I am the main beneficiary of my husband’s will, I’m less fussed. No offence, sweetie.”
Harvey had eyes only for Liz. Again, he said, “How?”
“Simple,” said Liz. “Because you won’t be able to find two people to perform the ritual with Trey fast enough, that avenue is closed. However, of the three demons created under your son’s watch, Heidi remains. I’m proposing we use an alternative ritual to withdraw the demon from Mercury and put it into you, saving your life.”
“Why my husband?” said Olivia. “He’s a criminal. A bad guy. Why would you want to save his life?”
“Simple again. I’d love to do a quiz set by you guys.” The servant had arrived with another drink. Liz took it. “If you wish to conjure a demon into a host, you need only knock out said host and lie them on the symbol. In the case of transference, it takes willing. Not from the host but the recipient. If you don’t accept the demon when it leaves Mercury, it will return to her. This is a time-sensitive issue. I need someone who would not only be willing to take possession of the demon but who doesn’t need convincing this is possible. We have neither the time nor the bodies for further demonstrations.”
Liz finished the third drink while the rest mulled her words. Neither Vicious nor Olivia looked happy. Trey felt stunned by the turn of events. Couldn’t stop looking at the silver switch.
Harvey said, “Do it.”
Liz beamed. “That’s why I came. No muss, no fuss. We get our friend back, and you get to live. Everyone’s a winner.”
Standing, she said, “Can your pet here,” she jerked a thumb at Vicious, “have you ready to leave before sunrise?”
Stunned expressions all round. Olivia snorted.
“My husband can’t go anywhere. Look at him. He’ll die if he tries to sit up. If you want his help to save your friend, you’ll have to bring her here.”
“Are you stupid?” Liz asked, slow, clear. “We have every reason to believe Mercury is not in the driving seat. It’s Heidi. If you think we can force or trick her into coming here, you’re two apples short of a bushel. We know where she is. We think if we can ambush her, we might get a chance to pull this off, and even then it’s only a might.”
Liz went to drink her drink, found it empty. The servant was gone. Frustrated, she made for the door, stopping upon arrival.
“It’s like this. I’ll be leaving with the rising sun. Harvey, you must decide. You stay, or you come. If you come, you might die in transit. The ritual might fail in which case you die. Heidi might kill you. A piano might fall on your head. Alternatively, we might save your life.”
Liz smiled. “If you stay, you die. That’s it.”
She opened the door and finished while departing.
“I’m going to need somewhere to sleep. Let me know when you’ve made a decision.”
Eighteen
Dazed, hurting, William was only partially aware of being led back into the house and dumped on the living room floor.
Above, the blur of his wife leaned in. Grabbed his chin. He tried to speak, but the blow had been too much. Vision pulsing, sickness rising, he feared he would soon pass out. She disappeared.
Will realised he needed to stand, and having stood needed to flee. If he could find the strength only to cross the road, he could take refuge in Kayla’s house. Crazy though his wife might be, she had not the power to batter down doors.
Expecting backup imminently, Gina might be confident she would soon have the support needed to remove such obstacles, should Will attempt escape. As standing was a struggle, she would know he had almost no chance of departing by wheels.
Dragging strength and focus from deep, knowing it would not last, Will stood, pivoting towards the living room door.
As he fought to remain standing, it opened, and Gina appeared. Unable to speak or respond, he could only watch as
she shoved him in the chest with a firm hand, sending him sprawling to his behind. A thud indicated his head had cracked the radiator, though he felt nothing. Unable to lift his hands to check, he could only wonder if he was bleeding.
Gina, the wife to whom Will had devoted many of his years, and with whom he had experienced stronger love than he could have thought possible, grabbed his wrist and around it snapped something cold, hard. The clink of metal on metal indicated she had attached something to the radiator, the other end of which was attached to his wrist. Even in his addled state, if asked what she had done, he would need only one guess.
“Paul thought he and I would sleep together tonight,” Gina said. “In the process of his clumsy flirting, he mentioned his handcuffs. I wish I didn’t have to use them on you, but if you aren’t going to be reasonable, this is the way we have to play.”
Gina departed, this time from living room to kitchen rather than living room to hallway. In her absence, Will began to recover. Having held consciousness this long, it was probably his for keeps. As the daze receded, pain took its place.
Pain was better than disorientation. While the former was unpleasant, it did not hinder thought as did the latter. Senses returned, William felt the handcuffs. Tugged them. Found them to be sturdy, unbreakable. He would need the key which presumably his darling wife had on her person.
From the kitchen, Gina returned, bearing a bag of frozen peas. Kneeling beside Will, she pressed them to his skull, where she had attacked him with a ceramic dog, and shushed when he gasped in pain.
“It’s going to be okay. Everything will be well. Please trust me.” Perhaps catching the way his eyes ran across her body, and knowing he wasn’t checking her out, she said, “The key is upstairs. There is no escape. Only release.”
“Then release me.”
“Not yet.”
“Fine,” said Will. He searched for something else. Found it. “Why were you pretending you wanted to sleep with Paul?”
