"Ben?"
He stood without moving, staring at me with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth. Then a weird shudder wracked his lanky frame, and he blinked like someone waking from a dream. His pupils contracted, and I realized that was why his eyes looked so dark. They had been completely dilated, leaving only the thinnest sliver of brown iris around the rim.
He took in his surroundings with growing confusion and fear. "Ari? What's going on? How did I get here?"
I shook my head. His wild eyes were locked on my own as though he might read the answer there.
"I was driving, thinking about you, and then I was...here." He blinked, his pupils blowing wide then snapping to pinpricks. His voice took on a dreamy quality. "That's right. I couldn't stay away." His eyes went to my hand where I held the door, a trail of markings just visible beyond the end of my sleeve.
He traced them with his gaze, up my arm and to my chest, as though he could see them clearly beneath my clothes. "I couldn't stay away," he said again. "From you."
He took a step towards me and I felt a thrill of alarm, but resisted the urge to back up. "Ben...I think you need to go," I said. "There's something wrong here, and—" My eyes flicked to the knife still held limply at his side. "You should go."
A pained look pinched his pale face. "You don't want me here?"
He moved towards me again and I quickly tried to shut the door, but he caught it in one hand and held it open.
His pupils slowly spread wide, like pools of spilled ink, until his eyes were completely black. "I can't leave, Ari," he said, voice going hoarse and low. "I need you. I want you." He reached for me and I retreated another pace.
"Ben, you don't—"
"Ari! Get away!" a voice snapped at my back. Soren stood on the stairs, looking past me and fixing Ben with a glare. "He's possessed."
Ben's eyes snapped from me to him, and he hissed, hunching in on himself like a threatened animal. He snarled and shoved past me with a force that sent me sprawling to the floor.
Soren leapt nimbly over the bannister as Ben charged up the stairs, landing with the grace of a cat on the floor below. Ben roared with startling ferocity and spun around to follow. Then his eyes fell on me, and his lips peeled back from his teeth in a rictus that froze my blood.
"You're mine," he growled, voice unnaturally low, and leapt. He landed over me, pinning me with one hand and raising the knife in his other. "All mine."
Then Soren was there, kicking Ben hard in the side and sending him tumbling off me. He hauled me to my feet and shoved me towards the door. "Get out of here!" Soren shouted. "I'll deal with him."
I grabbed at his sleeve. "Wait, don't hurt him," I said. "He's not—" But Ben had already regained his footing. He crouched in a bizarre pose, knees bent, one hand splayed on the floor while the other clutched the knife. His pale face was rigid, eyes wide and teeth bared. He looked utterly crazed.
"Go!" Soren yelled at me, rounding on Ben. I startled and turned to obey, and found myself face to face with Valerie Owens.
She was clad in a white ruffled nightdress, her long white hair in a loose braid, and her face etched with the same horrible, wild-eyed madness as Ben's.
"Mine," she hissed, reaching for me with white, claw-like hands. Retreating from her grasp, my back collided with Soren's.
"I thought I said—" He looked over his shoulder. "Oh, fuck."
Ben and Valerie circled like wolves, teeth bared. At least Valerie had no weapon. "Don't let them touch you," said Soren. "Here," he handed me a fire-poker, evidently taken from the collection by the disused hearth, "keep the old woman busy while I put down the other."
Ben snapped his teeth and Valerie let out a hair-raising moan.
"Don't hurt him, please," I said. "He's not himself."
"Clearly," Soren replied. He was keeping himself between Ben and me, to Ben's obvious frustration. Valerie made a grab for my arm, but I swung the poker and she leapt back with unnatural agility. Then Ben leapt at Soren and they went down in a crash and tangle of flailing limbs.
Valerie snatched an urn off the mantle and hurled it at my head. I blocked it with the poker but the ceramic jar shattered. It had contained the ashy remains of a (supposedly) twice resurrected cat, and a cloud of fine dust enveloped me in a choking haze. A hard blow to my wrist knocked the poker from my hand, and then she was on me, bearing me to the ground beneath her abnormal strength.
Her hands were at my throat, but she didn't squeeze. Instead, she shifted them lower, slipped her fingers beneath the bottom hem of my shirt and slid them up my chest. Then she let out a decidedly disturbing moan and her eyes rolled back in her head, so that only the whites were visible.
A horrible sensation washed through me as the markings crawled to life, glowing with a luminescence strong enough to show through the bunched fabric of my shirt. The same feeling I'd had when Pete touched me, of something tugging behind my breastbone, took hold—only much worse. It was like a fishhook behind my ribs, trying to rip something vital from deep within.
I gasped and cried out as agony pierced my chest. A burning cold spread from her hands where they touched me, seeping like poison through my body, and I couldn't move. A rush of power surged along the markings, through me. It was more than I could contain, like too much water forced through too small a path. I was coming apart, torn along seams, consumed like a scrap of paper in a roaring flame. A blinding whiteness filled my vision, and my mind reached for oblivion.
Then it stopped. The brightness receded and my eyes focused in time to see Valerie topple to the side. Behind her stood Soren, a heavy vase in one hand. His longish blond hair was disarrayed, and a long tear rent his sleeve. He stared down at me grimly.
My shirt was still up around my shoulders, and the markings were clearly visible against my skin, though they no longer glowed. "Well," he said. "That explains it." His eyes moved from my chest to my face. "Are you hurt?"
I shook my head, and he reached down and pulled me to my feet.
Valerie lay on her side, and Ben sat slumped against the wall.
"Are they..."
"Alive. Their bodies are not badly injured. As for their minds..." He shrugged.
"Can't you do something?" I asked, moving towards Ben. His face was relaxed in unconsciousness, all trace of madness gone.
Soren grabbed my wrist. "Don't touch him," he warned. "And no, I can't help them. I'm no exorcist, and the wrong spell could kill them. Besides, you have more important things to worry about. Like yourself."
I swallowed, but turned to face him. "Can you help me?" I asked. "Can you get rid of...this?" I gestured at myself, at the markings beneath my clothes.
He held my gaze for a long moment, his lapis eyes dark. A look uncomfortably like pity flickered over his haughty features, there and gone. Without heat, he said, "Your uncle should never have sent this thing to you. If he knew... But done is done." He drew a sharp breath. "You must come with me. I can take you somewhere safe, and then there may be time to explain. There is none now."
"What? No! I'm not going anywhere with you," I said, more out of reflex than anything. "I don't even know you!"
"Perhaps not. But this attack will not be the last. More will follow. You are a danger to those around you, and if you remain here there will be other casualties, you among them, most likely. What do you think would have happened tonight if I had not been here to stop it?"
He was right, I knew. But even so, I couldn't just drop everything and run away. I had a life, responsibilities.
I glanced at Ben, at Valerie. "I can't just leave them here like this. Ben is my friend, and Valerie—well, she's an awful neighbor, but she's old. What if she needs a doctor?"
"No doctor can help them. Hopefully, once you are gone from here, the possessing entities will leave them, and they will awaken confused and battered, but otherwise unharmed."
"And if not?"
"Then they will remain possessed until the entities are either exorcised or leave of their own accord."
"There must be something—"
"There is not." He spoke firmly, leaving no room to argue. "Tell me, Mr. Lorenfield, do you wish to live?"
Taken aback, I could only nod.
"Then do as I say. Pack your things quickly—one bag—and come with me. Getting away from here as fast as possible is the best thing you can do for them, and for yourself."
I regarded him as evenly as I could, though I could feel the corner of my mouth begin to tremble. His beautiful but expressionless face was impossible to read, but he had saved me, and I didn't sense malice from him. I did sense danger, and anger, but for the moment these did not seem directed at myself. I looked away. "All right," I said. "I'll come."
I packed quickly, throwing essentials into a backpack, trying to remember what I would need. I hadn't been away for even an overnight in ages. As I hastily shoved clothes into my bag, my eyes fell on the photos Ben and I had found, lying atop the dresser. I stuffed them in as well. Five minutes later I rushed back down the stairs.
Soren stood by the door, head cocked to one side as though listening. I paused.
"What is it?"
He turned towards me. "Nothing. Let's go."
At the car he popped the trunk and tossed my bag inside. "You have a phone?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"May I see it?"
I pulled it from my pocket and handed it over. He promptly threw it quite a distance down the street, and I heard it land with a sound that promised it had broken. "What the f—"
"You won't need it. Get in."
Fuming, but with little choice, I did. He slammed the door after me and crossed around to the driver's side.
"You say that you want to live," he said abruptly, "and for your uncle's sake, I will do my best to ensure that you do. But the life you have led up until now? That is over."
He started the engine and the car pulled away from the curb, carrying me with it into the night.