by Naomi Clark
I watched Tamsin stride to the stairs. Her pointy heels clacked on the stone. I was scant inches away from the edges of her precious chalk circle. Agony washed through me in waves, making it hard for me to concentrate on what I knew should be obvious. I gritted my teeth, listening to her climb the stairs. I had seconds to do something and I didn’t know what to do.
“Break the circle,” the Voice ordered me, still sounding drifty and distant, but getting stronger, looking for control. “Break the circle and we can break her neck for daring to try and control us.”
Oh, so it’s “us” now, is it? I tried to unfold myself, but I felt like cement coated me, my limbs heavy and my head fuzzy. It felt like a hangover, but without the fun of getting pissed and humiliating yourself. Normally I’d deal with a hangover by eating a lot of cold pizza and watching a lot of bad movies, but I needed a quicker fix here.
Tamsin was halfway up the stairs. I wanted to weep with pain, but I didn’t. I let the Voice take over.
It felt like setting my brain on fire. Like at the church, I saw flames and shadows rise at edge of my sight, and felt heat lick at my body. The Voice pushed me to the back of my head, and I felt the alien force of the demon slide in and take over. The Voice laughed through my mouth, the sound ugly and hoarse. It stopped Tamsin in her tracks. She turned back to look at me with shock on her face.
“What the fuck...”
The Voice laughed again, and I felt some of the heaviness lift from my arms. I flexed my fingers, as relief rushed through me. I could move. Okay. If I could move, I could get out here. I’d save the niggling issue of whether I could take over from the Voice again until after my daring escape.
Tamsin rushed down the stairs toward me, but was too late to stop the Voice from reaching out and smudging the chalk circle.
I heard a crack like distant thunder, and all those shadowy figures rushed in to crowd around me. Hellish howls and moans filled the room, and I swear I heard a faint rattle of chains. The Voice laughed again, full of wicked delight as Tamsin stopped short to gaze at me in horror.
“What have you done?” she cried.
“You think you can cut me up like your hookers and whores and steal my organs?” the Voice snarled at her, pulling my body up to its knees. “You think you can drain my blood for your spells and potions, witch? Try me.”
On my feet now, I lunged at Tamsin. My hands curled into claws to rip her apart. I caught a handful of hair as she shrieked and tried to shove me off. Her eyes darted to her shelf of horrors, and the Voice and I both knew instinctively we had to keep her away from it. Who knew what magic she could fling at us with the right jar of pickled eyeballs in hand?
She raked her nails down my chest, drawing fresh blood from the oozing knife wounds. I flinched, but the Voice simply soaked up my pain and her desperate rage, drinking it down like the best malt whiskey.
“Fight me,” the Voice mocked, pulling her in close to wrap my hands around her throat. “I dare you.”
To her credit, she did. She kicked and spat and clawed, trying to free herself, while we choked her. She had no chance. Even without the Voice, I would have been physically stronger than her. With the Voice breaking down all those pesky inhibitions I had about hitting women, Tamsin was helpless, as long as we kept her from her magic tools. Those might even the playing field.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the shadowy demons creep in closer. Tamsin’s frantic gasps luring them in. With the Voice riding me like a seaside donkey, I had more access to its thoughts and memories, and I picked up that these creatures were more cacodaemons, called from the Netherworld by the promise of pain and misery. Fright flickered through me, quickly stamped out by the Voice.
“Death. Torture. Her blood spilling over our hands. That’s all we want,” it snapped at me, distracted from Tamsin for a split second.
That split second of distraction was all she needed to knee me hard in the groin. I winced, and even the Voice didn’t like that pain. Our grip on her bruised throat slackened, and she shoved me away hard, sending me stumbling into the crowd of cacodaemons. They clawed at me with hot hands, pulling me to the floor so they could crawl over me like cockroaches. I shrieked and tried to bat them off, but there were too many, a black, boiling swarm. I flashed back to when the Voice first possessed me, that sickening jolt where my whole world fucked itself, and wondered if any more demons could find room inside me.
“He’s mine!” the Voice roared through my lips as we swatted and kicked at the other demons. “I claimed him. I own him!” I took a twisted comfort in knowing the Voice didn’t want a roommate.
While we struggled, Tamsin recovered, sucking down lungfuls of air with raspy gasps as she rushed to her shelf and grabbed a jar. Unscrewing the cap, she started chanting, something Latin and doom-laden. I barely had time to register that before she threw the contents of the jar over me. Cold liquid and something soft and squishy hit me in the face and mouth. I swallowed without thinking, retching as bitter juice ran down my throat.
For a second nothing happened. Then Tamsin’s chant grew louder and an icy burn ripped through me. I felt the Voice being torn away from me. I felt an intense, blasting pain that made everything else pale in comparison, like she was pulling off my arm. I bellowed in rage as every nerve and muscle in my body burned and twisted as the demon slowly peeled away from me. My vision swam and my heart stuttered and skipped. I realized that Tamsin had been right. This wasn’t possession. This was symbiosis.
If the Voice left, I’d die.
Faced with it, I wasn’t so sure I was cool with that.
I didn’t know how to fight her spell, didn’t know where to start. I flunked regular physics, so metaphysics was way out of my league. I couldn’t do anything, but lie in the midst of the feeding cacodaemons and twist in agony as Tamsin killed me.
Then I heard a voice that filled me with dread and hope—Anna.
“Freeze, bitch! Police!”
She stood at the foot of the stairs, looking like an angel of justice, with Mutt behind her and her gun pointed firmly at Tamsin’s head.
Tamsin whirled to face her, as her chant fell silent. The world fell back into place for me with a nauseating lurch, and the Voice thudded back into my body with a snarl of relief and anger.
“She tried to kill us! She tried to kill me! Whore!”
If I’d had the strength, I might have reminded it of our little suicide talk from earlier, but I really didn’t. I could just about clamber to my feet and shake off the cacodaemons clinging to my legs.
“Anna...” I croaked.
She ignored me, all her attention on Tamsin. “Put your hands in the air and drop the weapon,” she ordered the witch. I glanced at Tamsin’s hands to see she still clutched the jar she’d emptied over me.
Tamsin laughed. “You’re going to try and arrest me?”
“You bet your ass, I am.” Anna approached her cautiously, gun steady. “Now drop the weapon.”
Tamsin did, technically. She hurled the jar at Anna. It hit the wall next to her head, shattering and spraying glass all over her. Anna dodged, but once again, Tamsin took advantage of the distraction to grab another jar.
“No!” I started toward her, but a stray cacodaemon tripped me. I crashed to the floor again. Real heroic. Luckily for me, Mutt finally pulled off his Lassie act, launching himself at Tamsin with a bloodcurdling howl. He hit her hard, knocking her to the floor, where he pinned her down by clamping his teeth around her throat. Obviously Tamsin hadn’t factored my fearless companion into her plans–she lay there mutely, trembling while Anna slapped her handcuffs on her.
“You’re under arrest,” Anna said sharply, shifting Mutt out of the way so she could drag Tamsin to her feet. She glanced around the basement. “I’m not sure what for yet, but I’m guessing there’s plenty.”
She shoved Tams
in into a corner and finally turned her attention to me. “Ethan, God. Are you okay?” She hurried to my side.
I wanted to tell her to back off. Obviously, she couldn’t see the cacodaemons, or she’d be a hell of a lot more hysterical, but that wasn’t what worried me. That the Voice remained in charge worried me, scared me, and terrified me—and the Voice wanted to throw Anna against the wall and fuck her until she begged for mercy.
Vomit rose in my throat as she reached down to help me up. I tried to warn her, but the Voice locked my tongue up. When she took my hand, I knew we were both fucked. The Voice caught her wrist, pulling her down to the floor with a single, sharp motion. She screamed as we scrambled on top of her, pinning her by the shoulders to the stone floor.
“Ethan! What the fuck! Get off me!”
The Voice laughed that god-awful laugh, and the chorus of cacodaemons echoed it.
“Pretty, little human, ripe and sweet...”
I watched in helpless horror as my hands rose up to grab Anna’s hair and slam her skull against the floor, my head full of images from that nightmare, me pounding into her while she screamed and cried.
I couldn’t, I couldn’t, I couldn’t. I had to fight, had to stop this. I’d never forgive myself, never.
I fought as hard as I’d ever done to take back control of my body. The Voice fought back just as hard. Our mental tug of war reflected in my physical reactions as I alternately loosened and tightened my hold on Anna. She looked too dazed from the blow to her head to fight back much.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to–she had a knight in furry armor at hand. I don’t know what Mutt thought was going on, but he made it pretty clear he didn’t like it when he sank his teeth into my arm. I yelped in pain, jerking back. Anna immediately slammed her fist into my nose, not once, but twice.
I’m not ashamed to say she knocked me out. On the whole, I’m just pleased she didn’t shoot my balls off.
Chapter Eleven
When I came around, cops filled up Tamsin’s basement. Two bored-looking officers dragged a very foul-mouthed Tamsin up the stairs, while forensics swarmed around me. The cacodaemons had all vanished. I guess they realized the show was over. Mutt stood over me looking apologetic. Anna crouched at my side looking pissed.
“What the hell was that?” she demanded.
My head pounded as I struggled to sit up. The Voice lurked at the back of my skull, suspiciously quiet. “Which part?” I asked Anna.
“All of it! What were you thinking...” She shook her head and ran a finger down my bare chest. I shivered. When she pulled her finger back, blood and the goo Tamsin had thrown at me coated it. “What did she do to you, Ethan?” Anna asked, her voice sober and serious.
I brushed my hands through my hair, leaving more goo there. “I don’t know,” I lied, because telling the truth would probably just make things worse. “I think you’re gonna need an occult expert or something down here.”
“Did she confess to killing Rhian and the others?” Anna asked.
I shrugged. “Indirectly.” I pointed at the jars around the room. “I think she was using their organs for spell work.”
Anna laughed without humor. “Great. She’ll plead insanity and get carted off to a luxury institute somewhere. For fuck’s sake.” She threw up her hands. “I don’t believe this.”
She stood, and I managed to as well, although the room spun and blurred when I did. Mutt whined and pushed his nose into my hand. I gave him a quick “I forgive you for biting me” pat on the head. In the grand scheme of things, the bite wasn’t so painful. He had saved both Anna and me, which was a hell of a lot more important to me than potential rabies.
Anna nodded at me. “You need to see a doctor and get those cuts cleaned and stitched; and you need a shower.”
“That’s really the last thing on my mind,” I said wearily, looking around the basement.
“It shouldn’t be.” Anna held up a chunk of glass from the jar Tamsin had thrown at me for inspection. Most of the label was missing, but I could very clearly make out the words “and other semen.”
“I see,” I said slowly, rubbing my sticky hands on my jeans. I wondered if Anna would think less of me if I puked on her shoes. They looked pretty expensive, so I swallowed hard and offered her a weak smile. “Do you think it would be in bad taste to use Tamsin’s bathroom?”
“Very,” she assured me. “Go home, Banning. I want you down at the station for questioning in two hours.”
Great. Nothing like driving home covered in mystery spunk to make a man contemplate a change of lifestyle. I left Anna and her gang to their work, dusting for prints and mopping up my blood, and managed to make it all the way out of the house and into my car before I lost it. In the front seat, I slammed my fists down on the steering wheel, threw my head back and howled.
“Fucking shitty fucking pissing motherfucking...pissing cocking...fucking... fuck!” I didn’t know any swear words nasty enough to express myself how I wanted to. In the end, I just fell into wordless mumbling and dry, heaving sobs like the man I was. Mutt howled along with me, adding a really tragically funny air to my tantrum. In the end, I just dissolved into the sort of hysterical laughter people got right before they started picking passers-by off with a rifle from a bell tower.
There was a pretty big crowd outside Tamsin’s house by now–cops, mostly, but some rubber-necking neighbors too. and Mutt and I attracted curious–and scared–looks as we sat and wailed in the car. It probably didn’t help that I was still shirtless–Anna’s guys had snatched my shirt and coat for evidence, and the bloody pentagram on my chest added to my general air of sociopathy. A plain-clothes cop came over to tap on my window.
“Maybe you should move along?” he suggested politely.
“I’ll move you along,” I said stupidly.
He frowned. “Are we going to have a problem here?”
I thought about it. The Voice told me to run him over. Mutt stuck his tongue in my ear and whined, and I decided I already had enough problems to deal with. “No,” I told the cop. “I don’t think so.” I started the car and drove away from Tamsin’s house with blood drying on my chest, spunk drying in my hair, and tears drying on my face. Funny how you always think you’ve reached the lowest point of your life only to sink a little bit lower.
* * * *
I didn’t make it to the station in my given two hours for questioning. I kinda forgot about it somewhere between the fifth and sixth glass of whiskey. Yeah, Dad would be proud. Well, fuck him. Fuck the police. Fuck everything. I was entitled to drink myself into oblivion, given the shitty day I’d had. The shitty week, come to that. The shitty life! I was saddled with a demon that existed to make my life hell, and I’d die if I got rid of it. I think that deserved a drink or ten, right?
By the time Anna rang, I was almost blind with alcohol and it took me several fumbled attempts to answer the phone. “Where are you, Banning?”
“I’m pissed.”
“I didn’t ask what you are, I asked where you are. Searle’s refusing to talk. I need you to give a statement.”
“I’m not coming down there,” I slurred at her. “I’m not safe. You’re not safe. From me, I mean.”
“Ethan,” Anna said with heavy patience, “Are you showered and dressed?”
“Yeah, why? Did you want me dirty and naked?”
“I’m coming to get you, and I expect you to be sober when I do. I’m going to close this case if it kills me.”
She hung up before I could tell her that was a pretty poor choice of words. The frustration and misery I’d managed to numb with whiskey roared back to life inside me, and I flung my phone across the room with a shout. It bounced off the wall, hit the TV, and landed on Mutt’s back. Stretched out by the TV, fast asleep, he didn’t stir as the phone slid down his hind legs to the carpet. I guess
being a wonder dog was exhausting.
There were a lot of reasons I didn’t want to give a statement to Anna, mostly that my statement would sound like the deranged ramblings of a cracked-addled retard. Then there was the little matter of my attempted sexual assault on Anna. Just thinking about that sobered me right up. How the hell will I explain that? I was lucky, I guess, that I’d looked like such a pathetic mess in the aftermath, or I’d already be down at the station, banged up next door to Tamsin and preparing myself to become the plaything of a guy named Bunny.
With a grunt, I forced myself off the sofa and into the kitchen to down a few pints of water. By the time Anna showed up, I was sober enough to walk in a straight line and had figured out a plan of attack. I’d give Anna what we in the business called a partial truth, also known as a partial lie.
Anna didn’t interview me, though. In fact, she didn’t speak to me–or even look at me—at all on the way to the station, and dumped me off on a scrawny detective with jug ears the second we reached the station. I tried not to take her frosty attitude personally. I’d be pretty pissed off with me too, all things considered. So I fed the big-eared cop the partial lie instead, and he seemed inclined to swallow it. I guess the pentagram on my chest was pretty convincing evidence that I was a victim here.
“So Searle drugged you,” he said, tapping his pen on the scarred wooden table of the interview room. “After that...”
“Everything just went kinda hazy,” I said with a shrug. “I only went there for sleeping tablets. You know, herbal shit. For my insomnia.”
“You’ve no idea why she attempted...whatever she attempted?” he asked, gesturing at my chest with the pen.
“No, we never made it to the evil villain monologue.”
“Shame,” he noted. “That would make everything much simpler.”
“Yeah, well I guess she wasn’t planning on being caught.”
