Came Back Haunted: An Experiment in Terror Novel #10

by Halle, Karina

  Focus with intention, I remind myself.

  My fingers trip over the strained muscles of his back and he keeps pumping into me, his hips working in tight controlled circles at first, before getting more and more wild. He’s fucking me here, working me hard, just like he did four years ago, when we had absolutely no idea what was ahead of us.

  And we still have no idea what the future holds.

  All I know is that I will do anything to keep him in my life.

  To keep having a life.

  And that’s why we’re doing this.

  “Slow down,” I whisper to him, pulling my head back to look him in the eyes. “Dex. Slow down.”

  He shakes his head, sweat beading on his brow, his lips red with blood, his dark eyes flashing. “I can’t.”

  “You have to,” I tell him, moving back a couple of inches on the counter until he almost slips out.

  He’s breathing hard, so gone to desire and this raw, primal passion that I don’t even think he hears me. I press my hands on his face, steadying him.

  “Slow down,” I say again. “Please.”

  I am begging him with my eyes.

  He listens, though I know it physically hurts him to stop from coming.

  He leans in.

  His wet mouth covering mine.

  Tongue snaking against my tongue, stoking the fire, filling my veins with beautiful smoke. We are more joined than we’ve ever been before.

  I keep the intentions going in my head.

  I want you to possess me.

  I want you to keep me safe.

  I want you to keep my soul as yours.

  I say it over and over again in my head, feeling it, visualizing it, manifesting it.

  I want you to save me.

  I want you to always love me.

  I want you to be mine forever.

  I keep saying them, intentions turning into vows, and without realizing what I’m doing, I’m reaching down the muscles of his back, and my legs are tightening around him, pulling him back inside me. Deeper and deeper and deeper.

  “Perry,” he says through a choked cry, his movements growing quicker. “Baby, I need to come.”

  “Wait,” I whisper. “Wait until I invite you.”

  He growls in frustration, biting my neck on the other side, the pain mixing with pleasure.

  I repeat my intentions, focusing with my heart and soul and I feel it. I feel the energy rising up between us, I see the apartment shift and blend into something purple and then grey, like we’re in the Veil, and then back to purple again.

  Something is happening.

  This is it.

  I pull my head back, grabbing his face, as he continues to slam his hips against mine, his jaw tight with so much restraint.

  “Dex,” I say to him, breathing hard. “Come inside. Be inside me. Possess me.”

  His eyes meet mine and I feel the connection snap into place, a cord of electricity that can’t be broken.

  Then his mouth opens and a loud moan escapes from his lips, his eyes pinching shut, face contorting with pleasure as he’s overtaken.

  I come at the same time, finally letting go, gripping him as we ride this out together, doing my best to keep my thoughts focused on letting him in, letting take over, inviting him inside of my soul.

  And then I feel it.

  Feel him.

  He’s shouting my name, voice loud and hoarse as he’s coming inside me, as I’m exploding around him, and then…

  Then he’s shouting from inside me.

  Then he’s inside me.

  Not just physically.

  But spiritually, soulfully, in every way.

  I feel like he’s sifted into the essence of my being, slid underneath my layers, into the very heart of who I am and where I began and he’s just…

  There.

  Here.

  Dex, I say inside my head.

  I hear his breath as if he breathes from my lungs.

  It’s so fucking weird, but at the same time, not scary at all.

  His body is still moving, still thrusting slowly up into me, the orgasm starting to fade away.

  I’m here, he says.

  I manage to pull back a few inches and grab his face, making him look at me.

  His eyes are dull, clouded over, and for a moment I’m horrified that I’ve killed him. Then they blink and as they do so, go back to dark mahogany brown, and I feel that essence of him inside me slide to the background of my brain.

  His eyes widen and he’s back in his body again.

  His mouth opens, closes, he takes a deep breath into his lungs, shaking.

  “Oh my fucking god,” he says. “I was just inside you. I mean I was…”

  “I know,” I tell him, pressing my fingers into his temples. “I felt you.”

  “Was that it? Can I do that again?”

  I nod. I close my eyes, concentrating on letting him in, pushing back those black doors inside my mind, then opening the windows behind them, letting in purple sky.

  And there he is. Inside me, not just as his half-hard cock still is, but like he’s living in my veins, occupying my cells, sharing a soul and a brain with me.

  There you are, I say, smiling.

  I feel his own smile from within me.

  Then I open my eyes to look at him, at his body.

  This time his eyes are closed, but I have no doubt that there’s only a fraction of him beneath them.

  I know, he says, hearing my thoughts.

  Of course, when he’s like this, he can hear everything.

  I can’t seem to be in two places at once, he says. It’s like my body is sleeping if I’m in here. I don’t know if this is an ADHD thing, but I can’t split my focus.

  I laugh. Not everything is an ADHD thing I remind him. And certainly not possession. There is no guidebook.

  No? You seemed to know a lot of shit about this. You sure you don’t have a guidebook tucked away somewhere?

  No, I tell him. But you should probably get back in your body because you still need to pull out of me.

  Whoops.

  And just like that, I feel him leave, kind of like when he gets out of bed before I do. The space he left is still warm, there’s still an imprint of where he was.

  His eyes flutter open and he looks at me, taking a moment to focus.

  Then the most beautiful smile spreads across his face, causing my heart to leapfrog. “Hi,” he says to me.

  “Hi,” I say, grinning right back at him.

  We spend a while just staring at each other, smiling like idiots, unbelievably happy. Then he remembers to pull out.

  And we set about getting ourselves cleaned up.

  He helps me off the counter, my legs shaking, and while I can still feel his presence inside me, it’s so faint, like a shadow. It’s enough to know that he’s there, that he can come out at any time and take over.

  That he can protect me.

  We make our way over to the shower, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel afraid anymore.

  He turns it on and we take a moment to look at the absolutely bloody mess that we’ve made of each other.

  “All those times you wouldn’t let me go down on you when you had your period,” he says, shaking his head. “Baby, we were missing out.”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I warn him.

  We get in the water and rinse ourselves clean.

  Twenty-One

  When I married Dex, I always knew that he’d be mine, body and soul.

  What I didn’t know is that he would eventually be inside my body and my soul. Sharing that space. Not just in the metaphorical way but the metaphysical way.

  I wanted him to possess me, to make me his.

  I didn’t think he’d actually come inside me and take over.

  But that’s exactly what happened.

  The sex magic worked.

  The blood magic worked.

  I invited him inside me, to possess me, and he did.

>   He did so that he could protect me, so that he could save me. No one can take over my soul if it already belongs to someone else.

  For the first few days we made it work.

  He stayed in the background of my mind and we were alert and watching for Samantha, waiting for her to show her face with her demon in tow, waiting to do battle. Dex would always win, I would always be safe.

  But those days turned into a week and she still didn’t show.

  I’d been texting with Lana since right after the blood ritual, telling her what happened (leaving out the more intimate details of course). She said to keep our guards up, to stay aware.

  But, eventually, after Samantha started to seem like a memory, Lana told me that we were probably safe. That Samantha would be able to sense now that taking over me was impossible. She’d probably been watching me from inside the Veil, probably knew that Dex was in complete control at the drop of a hat.

  She said it was okay to revert back to normal.

  For now.

  So I gave Dex the boot.

  I have to praise the poor guy for not taking it personally. I think for him it felt a little off-putting to always have this extra shadow, which is how he tried to explain it, that feeling of being outside of yourself. Even when he was fully in his body, there was that small part of him inside me and it was exhausting him.

  So I kicked him out and he gladly went. Besides, I don’t think it’s healthy to have your spouse know every single one of your thoughts, no matter how close you are. I mean, when he was inside, he had to deal with life looking through my eyes, in my body, and that’s pretty fucked up if you ask me. Handy in some ways, but overwhelming in others.

  Naturally, that left us feeling a bit on edge, not knowing if Samantha was going to come back at any moment. But even I could feel that the energy I was giving off was different now. I wasn’t so needy, so desperate. I made peace with my feelings the best I could.

  And Dr. Leivo said that at any time we can have sex and I can invite him to come inside and possess me and that it will work, no blood play needed anymore. We haven’t tried yet, of course, but it’s nice to know it’s there on standby.

  The doctor also told me that when we finally go back to see Maximus, that I should give her a call.

  That’s something I need to discuss with Dex, and if I’ve learned anything from our last therapy session (aside from how to get willfully possessed by your husband), it’s that I need to share with him more. I need to share with everyone. Be as honest and open and truthful as possible, even if it hurts.

  And so, while we’re in the Highlander on Christmas Eve, driving down the I-5 toward Portland in the dark, as the freezing rain falls outside, Fat Rabbit napping in the backseat, I turn to Dex and say, “Dr. Leivo wants to join us on our Maximus expedition.”

  His brows go to his hairline as he steals a glance at me. “What?”

  “She wants to come with us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s a witch.”

  “And?”

  Oh, so Dex is all blasé about witches all of a sudden.

  “Because Samantha is a witch,” I repeat. “Look, we don’t even know if Ada is going to agree to any of this, but if she does, the most she can do is get Max out.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “And what if Samantha comes along for a ride? We’ve been warned by everyone that’s the risk when you open the Veil. That things hitch rides. That opening a spot weakens it, draws attention to it. We can’t assume that this is going to be easy.”

  He lets out a soft laugh. “Easy? Kiddo, nothing with us is ever easy.”

  “So, do you mind if she comes along?”

  He loosens his grip on the steering wheel. “If you think it will help.”

  “She knows Samantha. Or she did, before she died. On a personal level. She can help us with her. Banish her, do whatever it is she needs to do.”

  “Do you have faith in her?”

  I don’t even have to think about it because I’ve been mulling it over the last few days. “Complete faith. She has our back. And she’s been inside my head. She knows me inside and out.”

  “I’ve also been inside your head. Your body, too.”

  “And you know me more than anyone should, Dex. I mean, that was always true of you, but now you know what it feels like when I fucking sneeze.”

  He breaks into a grin. “I know. Who would have thought that people experience sneezes differently? And fuck, I wish you let me get you off just once, just so I could see how that feels like for you.”

  “Hey, some things are meant to be sacred,” I tell him, smacking him on the arm. “Concentrate on your own orgasms.”

  “Oh. I do.”

  To be honest, I’m a little nervous about tonight. I know that seems silly, after all I’ve gone through in the last six weeks, but Ada and my father mean so much to me, that I’m determined to make things right.

  I’m determined to, once and for all, sit down with them and fill them in.

  On everything.

  Absolutely everything.

  And they can share or they can stay quiet, but I can’t afford to keep them out anymore. They’re my family, my blood, and they deserve more than that.

  But that doesn’t stop me from being anxious, and as we pull onto the familiar suburban street I grew up on, each house decorated with Christmas lights, some front yards filled with inflatable snowmen and Santa displays, the anxiety kicks into high gear.

  “Do you have any Ativan?” I ask Dex, as he parks the car out front. The house looks cheery enough, and there’s a bit of relief in seeing the Christmas lights out across the front, which means my dad’s been feeling well enough to put them up.

  “Do you really need any?” he asks me, inspecting my face. “I think you’re going to be okay.”

  “You’re holding out on me,” I tell him.

  “Come on,” he says, opening his door. “We can at least get you drunk.”

  That’s true.

  I might as well, too. Lana got me a referral to a psychiatrist, Dr. Chan, apparently someone who specializes in people like me, whatever the hell that means at this point. Is Dr. Chan a warlock? I don’t know. Anyway, I have an appointment with him just after New Year’s, and she seems to think he’ll be able to prescribe me anti-depressants.

  I’ve had long discussions with Dex about this over the last few days. We used to be so anti-medication, and for good reason, that it’s something the both of us have to get used to. But I’ve seen how Dex has moved forward on his pills, which only help, not hinder him, and I have to trust that the medication will do the same to me.

  The truth is, I do need it. Still. Even with Samantha kept at bay for now, even though I feel closer to my husband than I’ve ever felt before, I’m still dealing with that darkness. It’s still there pressing down on me, wanting to drown me. I’m still dealing with letting go of the life I wanted, the life I needed. Dex and I haven’t discussed the baby thing again, it’s too soon for both of us, and we’re both too fragile, but it just adds to the weight of everything that I’m already grappling with.

  Anyway, I’m sure there will be a lot of ups and downs with the pills. You can’t drink much on them, it takes at least three weeks to work, and sometimes the side effects are less than ideal. But I’m hoping that the right pills, along with more therapy sessions with Dr. Leivo, tackling the nitty gritty, that I can beat this thing.

  Dex comes to my side of the car and opens the door for me, helping me out. “Should we go say hi first, or just bring Fat Rabbit and let him go nuts.”

  “He’s a good buffer. Bring him in now.”

  So Dex grabs Fat Rabbit from the backseat, scooping him up in his arms, and we head toward the house. He lets the dog down on the lawn so he can pee, but by the time my father opens the front door, the dog is running full speed toward him.

  He fucking loves my dad, and my dad isn’t the biggest fan of dogs, so go figure. I swear Fat Rabbit does i
t on purpose.

  “Hey Dad,” I say to him, as we go up the front steps. Fat Rabbit is jumping up on him repeatedly, trying in vain to kiss his face, though he’s only getting as far as his thighs.

  “Fatty Rab, get down,” Dex chides him, grabbing the dog and scooping him up in his arms where he thrashes around, trying to lick anyone, anything, to death.

  “He must be excited for Santa,” my father says, chuckling. It’s a dorky thing to say, but it makes me feel good for a moment, because it makes everything seem normal.

  Then when I get close enough to hug my father, I see that things aren’t normal at all.

  “You’ve lost weight,” I tell him, and I know it’s not the best thing to say to someone and I don’t really mean it as a compliment either. I mean, he’s lost a lot of weight, his pasta belly having shrunk dramatically, but I know it’s not because he’s on a health kick.

  “So have you,” he says to me, holding me tight. “You’re skin and bones, pumpkin.”

  That’s not even a little true. Whatever weight I had lost I’m sure I’ll gain it back after Christmas. “I am not,” I tell him. I pull back and give him a quick smile. It breaks my heart to see him like this. He’s smiling too, but it’s a brave face. Now that I know what’s really going on, now that I know the truth of what he’s dealing with, it’s no wonder he looks so tired and worn out. All he must be doing is worrying about me and Ada.

  And my mother.

  At least tonight I get a chance to set him straight.

  Dex and my father exchange pleasantries, though now that I know they’ve been talking on the regular, I can see both how comfortable they are with each other, and also how much they’re not saying.

  We step inside, the house warm and toasty and smelling like gingerbread cookies. I can’t tell if it’s the room spray that my mother used to use all the time, or if one of them has actually baked cookies. Either way, Dex puts the dog down and he starts ripping around the living and kitchen, searching for Ada.

  “Ada made cookies,” my father says. “They’re not half-bad.”

  “Ada?” Dex says in surprise. “She didn’t poison them, did she? I mean, she knew I would be here, and she knows how I feel about cookies.”