Love & Exorcisms | 18+ | COMPLETE |

- Chapter 15 -

I turned slowly at the sound of my name called in a deep and familiar voice. Damian stood there at the streetside, his dark hair slicked back, hands shoved in the pockets of his large coat. My vision seemed to flash as I looked upon him, the darkness lifting for a brief moment. He alone stood undistorted, in a crowd of hideous faces. My eyes narrowed.

He had been following me...stalking me...hunting me...surely he intended to cause me harm...

He began slowly walking towards me, as if I were an animal he was afraid to spook. An automobile had rumbled to a stop as I blocked its path, furiously honking its horn. In a rage I turned, raised both my fists, and brought them down upon the angular hood of the vehicle. I had never imagined such a force could be in me. The metal caved beneath my small fists, bending and rippling. The driver of the vehicle got out at once, shouting words I could not comprehend, but Damian called out to him.

"Stand back from her!" he said. "Do not approach her, good sir! She is unwell! I am her doctor, please, allow me to collect her. Come no closer."

He was not my doctor...what lies was he telling? I bared my teeth at him, like a beast, ready to snap off whatever part of him came close to me first. But he stopped several feet away.

"Samara." His voice was calm, but strong. A stern and commanding tone. "You're stronger than It is. Come back. Take control. I know you can."

My stomach lurched again. His words reminded me that I still felt like a prisoner in the cocoon my body had become. Why could I not choose to move my legs, or open my mouth? Why did it feel as if it was not my own voice rolling from my tongue?

"I am in control," I spat. "Your concern is misplaced."

But it wasn't...it wasn't misplaced! I began to struggle, trying to move of my own accord. Again it resulted in overwhelming pain, almost as if it put such a great force upon my bones that they were about to break.

"Who are you?" Damian demanded, his voice so low that certainly only I could hear him. "Tell me your name."

"You know my name," I said, throat grating. "And we know your name, Damian, spawn of Ingrid, bastard of Ragnarok, heir to Belthazha."

"We?" he said quickly. "There is more than one of you?"

What was he speaking of? Who was speaking? My panic was rising, spreading throughout my body until I thought I might burst. I felt my mouth spread into a slow grin. "Your commands have no power here."

Damian's voice had grown grim, his mouth tightened into a hard line. "This has power here," he said, and reached into his coat. From it he drew forth a pistol: its muzzle was silver, carved with runes similar to those of his knife and my own scars, the handle a deep polished wood wrapped in thin gold wire, like vines. A shudder went through me.

"You'll kill her," I said, but my voice was weak.

"Then I'll kill her," Damian said, the gun aimed clearly at my head. The darkness was beginning to lift. A small crowd had gathered, horrified people pointing and watching with mouths agape. Someone was shouting for the police. I began to feel sick again.

"I'll kill her, and you with her," Damian reiterated. "You know what this is, you know what this weapon can do. You will be destroyed utterly, for a thousand years or more. So go back. Be silent. Let Samara speak."

It felt as if all the air was sucked out of my lungs at once. My head cleared, my vision shifted, and I suddenly expanded and filled my body once more. Blood rushed to my head and I was sick again, stumbling forward as the gathered crowd gasped. Damian was there, catching me before I struck the ground. The voices were real...they were real...

Unconsciousness took me.

"You're a fool for this, Damian. Bringing it right into your own home? Would you also like to chop yourself up on a platter with a bit of butter and rosemary?"

The voice was amused, dark and deep, deeper than any voice I had ever heard. My body felt as if it had been pummeled all over, beaten by fists. I could not open my eyes, and my muscles were too weak to move. I could only lay silently, in darkness, and listen.

This is what happens when you don't listen to us. Stupid, girl. Too weak to bear it. This is what happens, isn't it? Will you let your mind crumble, Samara?

I could smell clean linen, candle wax, vetiver and ginger. And sage...

"What else was I to do, Kiiji? Hm? She's losing control, she had to be stopped." Damian. His smooth voice, tight, impatient. Fearful.

"Aye, but I would have thought your idea of stopping her would be a bit more effective. Killing her, for example. You never seemed to have a problem with that before."

"The others were already gone!" Footsteps paced on a wooden floor. "Their souls had fled, there was nothing human left in those bodies! Samara...Samara came back. She's still in there, Kiiji. She can't help what's happened to her, any more than I could!"

"Don't you see it?" Laughter, as if conjured from the very bowels of Hell. "It was no mere chance the two of you met. Did you think it merely a miraculous connection to find yourself so drawn to her? Legion is starving. Things didn't go as It planned, and It will sooner rip this poor girl's mind to shreds than not have Its way-"

"Legion? So she really is-"

"Shit. I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Shit."

"It doesn't matter now, we'll discuss it later. The woman is a fighter, otherwise she would not have survived this long with any sanity intact. Those scars are well-healed, it's been months, at least, since she was marked."

There was a curious sound, like the clucking of a tongue. "You think you're capable of defeating them?"

There was a long, uncomfortable pause. "No. I don't."

"Then what will you do? Keep her as your captive here until death and madness take her, and you with them? You are wrong if you assume she will grow weaker. The woman herself will soon be gone, her body merely a host for the others. "

"I'm sending for Belthazha."

The laughter that followed was uproarious. "Your grandmother? I thought she was still in London...It will take her weeks to even get your letter, let alone arrive in the States! She'll share my thoughts, Damian, she'll think you mad for not killing her from the start."

"If you won't help, Kiiji, don't question me for at least trying. Just leave me be."

The voices were beginning to fade. Tiredness was washing over me in wave after wave. I could hear the whispers, but could discern no words within them. I let myself sink down, deep, deep into the darkness again. As I did, I could have sworn that I felt my body twitch, but not of my own accord.

Let us protect you. Let us save you. Rest, little Samara. Just rest.