by Mary Lindsey
“What the hell is that?” Vivienne whispered. “Ugh. It stinks.” She covered her nose and mouth with her hand.
Alden stood right as Ms. Mueller grabbed the sides of her podium, slumped over, and groaned. A bizarre, glazed look crossed over her face and then she straightened back up. It was obvious what had happened the moment she grinned.
“Shit. She’s been possessed,” Alden whispered. “We need to do something before the demon hurts a student.”
I looked around and was relieved that, as usual, no one was paying attention.
“I’ve got this,” Vivienne said before bolting out the door.
Ms. Mueller’s face contorted several times as if she were putting up a fight to regain her body from possession.
Then the fire alarm went off. Vivienne had found the perfect way to clear the building.
Desks and chairs scraped the floor as students emptied their desks and left the room in record time. The three of us, however, remained perfectly still, eyes fixed on Ms. Mueller. I’m not sure I’d ever given her my full attention before, but she sure had it now.
Vivienne returned, and once the room cleared completely, Alden took several steps toward Ms. Mueller, who stiffened and spoke in a horrible male voice. “Were we discussing the Civil War? We know a lot about the Civil War, don’t we, Speaker 102?”
Undoubtedly, the Malevolent was Smith. I felt Lenzi’s fear, but she didn’t show it. “We do. Leave the human’s body now.”
Ms. Mueller threw her head back and laughed in the voice of a man.
Fire alarm still screaming from the hallway, Alden shut and locked the door, then pulled out his phone and furiously punched buttons.
Far faster than Ms. Mueller’s usual waddle, the Malevolent bolted toward Alden, stopping just out of reach. “Calling backup? No need. This won’t take long.”
“Don’t you dare hurt her,” Lenzi shouted over the shrill clanging of the fire alarm.
Its evil laugh filled the air. “What, like this?” Ms. Mueller picked up a pair of long scissors from the podium, splayed her fingers over the top, and stabbed the blades through her hand, pinning it to the podium. Her face contorted into a grimace of pain, then the grin returned. “Mmm. The sweet pain of having a body again.”
The fire alarm fell silent.
“What do you want?” Vivienne asked, striding toward the podium. Alden grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back. She shook him off. “Cut it out! I’m not scared of a ghoul that has to stuff himself in the body of a middle-aged history teacher because he’s too weak to take me on.”
Alden and Lenzi looked horrified, and Lenzi transmitted complete alarm. I wasn’t sure if Vivienne was bluffing, or if she knew more than I did about the powers of Malevolents and possession in general. She certainly appeared confident, and her emotions flickered among excitement, anger, and occasionally, fear.
“Why didn’t you take one of the students? You could have done some damage in one of those football players’ bodies.” Vivienne paced in front of the podium. “Because they were too strong and you couldn’t get in. You knew that.”
The demon growled and yanked on the scissors that were plunged deep into the wood of the podium.
“Ha! You’re too weak to even free yourself from your own stunt.” Vivienne did a little pirouette and laughed. “Caught ya! If I were you, I’d worry about that poor woman’s body bleeding out with you in it. Wouldn’t that end it for you? Don’t you have to skedaddle before the heart stops beating?”
Ms. Mueller’s eyes opened wide, then narrowed into a menacing glare.
“Stay ready, Paul,” Alden said.
Vivienne strolled closer to the podium. “If the big bad ghouly here were able to invade a Speaker, he’d have tried that first.” She put her hands on either side of the podium facing Ms. Mueller. “Isn’t that right, loser?” The demon growled and made a swipe at her with its free hand, and Vivienne ducked.
After she was out of reach, she laughed again. “I bet that used a ton of energy. Are you done yet?”
“Nicaragua Smith will never be done,” he howled from Ms. Mueller’s mouth.
Rage rolled through her. “You’re Smith? No way. You’re telling me that Smith is just a weak demon wearing a polyester pantsuit?” She shook her head. “You’re not at all what I expected.”
The demon leaned forward. “Who are you?”
Vivienne’s grin gave me chills. It was as terrifying as the demon’s had been. “I’m your worst nightmare. I’m the person who’s going to dispatch you to hell, where you belong.”
Ms. Mueller’s body became very still. Her head tilted as Smith studied Vivienne through her eyes. “I’ve wronged you somehow, haven’t I?”
“Yeah. And it was a big mistake on your part.”
He stretched the lips in an unnatural smile. “You seek revenge. Revenge for something so insignificant, I don’t even remember it.”
Vivienne’s calm cracked just a bit. He was trying to weaken her—perhaps to make the jump into her body. “I remember it.” Her voice trembled slightly.
Crap. I had to do something, but had no idea what.
“Well, you’ll have to wait,” Smith said from Ms. Mueller’s body. “I’m here for something else.”
“Now, Alden,” Lenzi said. Alden sat and went still as his soul entered Lenzi’s body.
At least Lenzi was safe. I gave Vivienne a pleading look. Even though her in-your-face approach seemed to be working, I didn’t think she was up to taking Smith on from the inside. “Now?”
“Don’t you dare, Paul,” she said, eyes on Mueller.
There wasn’t as much blood from the wound through Ms. Mueller’s hand as I’d have thought there would be, but she looked awful. Her skin was pasty and slick with sweat.
“Ah, predictable as always, Speaker 102,” Smith said to Lenzi, then he turned Mueller’s gaze to Vivienne. “You, however, are not. You are far more entertaining.”
“Oh, really? Well, you’re boring me, Smith. Even Mule Face Mueller is more interesting than you, and that says a lot.”
Smith growled in rage, baring Ms. Mueller’s teeth. Vivienne laughed. “Hey, you’ve got something right”—she pointed at the space between her front teeth—“there.”
Smith made an effort to remove the scissors again, but only caused the wound to bleed more.
Never taking her eyes off of Smith, Lenzi moved closer to me. “Alden says we need to simply hold steady and wait for backup.”
“I don’t want to wait for backup,” Vivienne said.
Lenzi shook her head. “No.”
Ms. Mueller’s eyes looked unfocused. Her body was about to pass out.
Vivienne pulled her eyes away from Smith and faced Lenzi. There was no anger coming from her at all, which was a relief. “I don’t know you, Lenzi. I don’t know anything about you, but there is no way you want that demon gone as much as I do. I’m going to get rid of him for good, and I think I can do it right now.”
Ms. Mueller had put her head down on the podium, but her eyes were open.
“No,” Lenzi said. “Both Alden and I say no.”
“Yes,” I said back. I trusted Vivienne and was going to back her up no matter what. “I think we need to trust Vivienne’s intuition on this one,” I said. “So far, so good.”
My phone buzzed. “Hey, Junior. I’m outside the door. Let me in quick.”
I strode to the door and let Race in, locking it behind him. Race took a look around and figured out the state of things quickly. Lenzi was protected, and Mueller was possessed and immobilized by the scissors, blood slowly falling one drop at a time from the corner of the podium to the floor.
“Do you want me to cover or soul-share?” he asked.
“Leave me open,” Vivienne said. “Come on, Smith. What are you waiting for? Come on in and talk to me.”
The body slumped over the podium and didn’t move.
“Well, crap,” Vivienne grumbled. “The chicken took off.”
I didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed for her. At least she was safe.
Race nudged Ms. Mueller’s shoulder, and she didn’t react.
Lenzi sat in the desk next to Alden. “I think you’re right. I think he’s gone, which is the best possible outcome.”
“No, it’s not.” Vivienne’s anger surged. “The best possible outcome is dispatching him. He got away.”
Race put his fingers on Ms. Mueller’s neck and studied his watch. “She’s okay.” He checked out the scissors and made a face. “That’s nasty. And it’s going to bleed like crazy when the scissors are pulled out. The pressure is keeping it from gushing.” He shuddered. “Poor woman.”
Vivienne joined him where Ms. Mueller lay slumped across the podium. “Yuck. Her notes are under her hand.” She stepped closer. “I hope this means we get to move on to a different subject.”
“Out, Alden,” Lenzi said, placing her hand on his shoulder. His body gasped to life, and he took his phone from her.
Race walked over to the door and peeked out the narrow window at the side. “Wonder when the medical team will be here.”
“According to their texts, any minute,” Alden said, looking up from his phone. “Charles is coming too. This one is a mess, because it’s a teacher. They’re going to have to do a lot of fancy footwork to keep it secret.”
Race leaned back against the door. “I guess it all revolves on how cooperative the teacher is.”
“And how much money the IC has donated to the school,” Lenzi added.
“The IC is its biggest benefactor. I imagine they hold some clout,” Alden said.
Vivienne leaned closer to Ms. Mueller, peering at the notes. “I don’t think she deviates from these during class. I bet if we copied them, we could ace her tests.” She fingered the edge of a page.
Quicker than I imagined possible, Ms. Mueller’s free hand shot out and grabbed Vivienne by the throat. “Stupid little girl. Your hate makes you strong, but you can’t even begin to fathom hate like mine,” Smith said from Ms. Mueller’s body. “You asked what I wanted. I want revenge.”
“Now, Alden,” Lenzi whispered. I didn’t need to look back to know they had soul-shared again. Lenzi was safe, but Vivienne wasn’t and couldn’t even give the command to soul-share because she was being choked.
I had to do something. I charged the podium and knocked the entire thing over, Mueller and all, which caused Smith to turn loose of Vivienne’s neck. “Race! Protect Vivienne!” I shouted, grabbing Mueller’s free arm. “Vivienne, let him in.”
“Okay, Vivienne?” I heard Race say.
“Yes,” Vivienne responded. Then she cried out as Race poured his soul in her body.
Smith struggled underneath me, but wasn’t strong enough in Mueller’s weakened body to fight me off. It had all been an act, and he had probably planned to possess Lenzi or Vivienne after he finished his diatribe. He was certainly pissed I’d tackled him. In pushing the podium over, I’d dislodged the hand that had been stabbed to the wood, and blood was everywhere. The blades were still through the hand, fingers wrapped around them.
“Give it up, Smith,” I said, getting a better hold.
“Never,” he growled from Ms. Mueller’s body. A searing pain shot out from my left shoulder blade. Smith laughed, and I punched him in the face; well, actually, I punched Ms. Mueller in the face, knocking her out cold. Fear spiked from both Lenzi and Vivienne.
“There he goes,” Lenzi said, pointing to the far side of the room. “His voice was over there before it faded away. You got him out, Paul.”
Yeah. But he hadn’t been weak. Ms. Mueller could never have fought that hard. It was as if he was scoping us out. Playing with us.
“Oh, no!” Vivienne ran over to me. “The scissors.”
“Yeah, I know,” I groaned. “Pull them out, will you?”
She leaned over me. “They’re stuck through her hand into you, just like the podium.” It must have looked pretty gross, because her fear spiked. She stood up. “No, I can’t . . . Shut up, Race.”
It was bizarre hearing her argue with Race while they soul-shared, and I would have been amused were it not for the pain in my shoulder.
“Okay, fine. Race is telling me what to do, so if I screw this up, it’s his fault,” Vivienne said, kneeling beside where I was sprawled over Ms. Mueller’s body. “He says he won’t leave my body yet because Smith might come back, which is total BS. He just wants me to be the one to yank this out.”
“Just do it, Vivienne.” I felt her fear and concern. She was frightened and compensating for it with belligerence, like she’d done before. “I’ll be fine. You can do this.”
I used words I didn’t even know I knew, but before long, the scissors were out. Vivienne had me stay still, lying on top of Ms. Mueller, while she put pressure on my wound.
Race’s body reanimated with a gasp, and he strolled over. “Oh, man. I wish it weren’t against code to photograph this, Paul, because I’d have blackmail material forever,” he said.
In less than a minute, backup arrived, and a dozen or so people charged into the room. Four wore lab coats, some wore what looked like special ops gear, a couple had on suits, and then there was Charles, whose concern blasted me for a moment as he knelt down. “How bad is it?”
“I have no idea,” I answered.
“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Vivienne.”
“The shoulder bone deflected the blade,” Race said. “The wound is shallow.”
From my embarrassing facedown position on top of Ms. Mueller, I couldn’t see Charles’s face, but I could swear there was a smile in his voice. “While I appreciate your expertise, Horace, I wasn’t addressing you either.”
Vivienne shifted a bit, but kept the pressure on my wound. “I don’t have a clue about this kind of stuff.”
Charles stood. “You’ll need to get a clue. It appears Paul here has an adventurous streak no one anticipated.” I lifted my head to look at him, and he winked. He motioned to the guys in lab coats.
“Lift your hand, please,” one requested of Vivienne. The injury pulsed with pain when she took her hand away. I almost asked her to come back as she moved to sit in a desk on the front row. I wanted her to touch me. Needed it. Instead, I took a deep breath as the guys poked at the wound.
Before long, they had me move to Ms. Mueller’s desk chair, leaning forward with my elbows on the tops of my thighs. One guy attended me, while the other three hovered over Ms. Mueller. A couple of the guys in suits spoke on their phones, and the guys that looked decked out for warfare each stood in a corner.
“Please take your shirt off,” the guy in the lab coat treating my wound said.
Panic made my mouth dry as cotton, and I wasn’t sure I could speak. “No.” My response had been so quiet, he hadn’t heard.
“Please remove your shirt.”
“I can’t.” Still only a whisper.
He crouched beside me. “You can’t because it hurts somewhere else, or is it too painful from the wound on your shoulder blade?”
A pulse that felt like a twinge of regret came from Charles. The transmission was so unusual, I sat up and turned to look at him. He looked away—something I’d never seen him do. I wondered if it was because he’d let some emotions slip out or because he knew why I couldn’t take my shirt off.
“I have to look at the wound. I can just cut this shirt off, okay?” The guy moved to a large, metal medical supply kit a few feet away. Thoughts of bolting from the room ran through my mind. I plotted out several strategies to escape before they could stop me, but Vivienne killed my scheme by taking my hand.
“Hey. You okay?”
I nodded and focused on
her slim, tiny hand holding mine. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, intentionally letting my memories drift back to the incredible kiss outside her house last night.
She sat on the floor in front of my chair and gave my fingers a squeeze. “You look a little panicked. Does it hurt a lot?”
I shook my head. The wound from the scissors didn’t hurt that much. It was the least of my worries.
The guy in the lab coat pulled a chair up beside me and reached for the hem of my shirt, holding scissors in his other hand. I flinched.
Vivienne took my other hand. “It’s okay.”
No. It wasn’t.
The sound of the blades cutting through the fabric on my back seemed amplified as if it were being broadcast through speakers. The guy stopped midtask. He made no sound, but that bizarre regret emotion pulsed from Charles again. And then I placed that emotion; it was pity. Pity was my enemy.
I took a shaky breath. I couldn’t stop this from happening. But I wouldn’t allow it to beat me now, not after all these years of successfully dominating my past to create a real future.
I stared into Vivienne’s eyes as the guy made the last few cuts in the shirt, then pulled it away from the wound. At least only my back was exposed, and right now, Vivienne was directly in front of me. “You still okay?” she asked. Her sweet concern and tender emotion almost made me weep. Were it to turn to pity, I didn’t think I could remain in that chair.
The guy at the door opened it to admit a man rolling a gurney. I was relieved when they put Ms. Mueller, who was still out cold, on it. She had a black eye from where I’d punched her.
“You need stitches,” the guy at my back said. “We should do it off-site.” He pulled out a bandage. “We’ll do a temp solution until then.”
Still shaking, I nodded.
Vivienne squeezed my hand. She thought I was nervous over stitches.
Then she stood, and my worst fears surfaced. I clung tighter to her hands, willing her to stay in place, but even from where she stood, she could see. She pulled her hands away and peered over for a better view of my back. A pulse of surprise. Then horror. Then, yeah, there it was: pity.
