The Medium's Possession

by Elle Beauregard

  “What the hell is this?” Zander asked when he handed it to her.

  “It’s hand rolled,” he said. “Organic and shit. I figured I’d bust out the good stuff for your going away smoke.”

  She breathed a sad, quiet laugh before bringing it to her mouth.

  Callum held his breath while she breathed in deep.

  Pulling the joint from her lips, she looked at the lit end. “Hand rolled what? This doesn’t taste like anything I’ve smoked before.”

  Callum shrugged with his heart in his throat. “Some fancy, organic tobacco, like I said. One of Scott’s clients gave it to him.”

  She nodded but didn’t respond before taking another hit, her movements slow and basic, without energy or the flourish of enjoyment.

  He’d give anything to see her love something—anything—again. He’d take the Shadow on, let it inhabit him if it meant he got to see her smile again. He’d happily die right now just to see her laugh. The real Zander. The one he fell in love with—the one he still loved more than he thought he could love anything.

  For a number of minutes, they were silent. Callum watched Zander in his peripheral vision as he smoked his own cigarette, the pit of his stomach hard and heavy like he was swallowing rocks instead of inhaling smoke.

  The smoke Zander exhaled, on the other hand, smelled strongly of flowers, aromatic and musty.

  He saw it when her eyes lost focus.

  When she spoke, her words were slurred like they had been in the bedroom but without the angry edge. She sounded less college-kegger and more rock-bottom, “I thought you’d fight harder than this.” Then she looked at him, her brows furrowing like she was only then recognizing the effects. “What the hell did you give me?”

  He took what was left of the joint from her slack fingers and sat it on the step beside him as he tucked an arm around her. She leaned into him without question, but he knew that had more to do with being unsteady than looking for his support.

  “We’re going to help you,” he said to her.

  “W-what?” Her eyes were trying to close, each blink slower and less coordinated.

  “I am fighting,” he said with a desperate determination, the spark that lit when he’d put her into bed this morning fanned into a blaze, his voice low and strong through a tight jaw. “I’m fighting like hell for you.”

  Just as she went boneless against him.

  Callum looked up with his cigarette held between his lips as he angled himself to support Zander’s suddenly limp frame against his chest. Scott and Cecily were coming up the front walk, the rolled top of a non-descript paper bag clutched in Scott’s hand.

  Callum quickly plucked the joint from the step beside him and rubbed it out on the cement as Scott jogged up the walkway with a concerned expression, Cecily close on his heels.

  “She’s up?”

  “She was,” Callum replied around his cigarette before taking it from his mouth and rubbing it out next.

  “She just pass out on you?”

  “Yeah, seems that way.” Cigarette safely extinguished, Callum tucked himself more securely behind her. “Help me get her inside?”

  “From the meds, you think?” Scott asked as he went to hold her upright so Callum could stand.

  “Probably,” Callum lied.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Deja vu, huh?” Scott remarked, holding Zander’s legs as he and Callum carried her into the living room. “At least I’m not getting kicked in the face this time.”

  “Bring her over here,” Wren said from where she was standing in the dining room.

  Scott and Callum changed course and redirected their efforts to the dining table, standing clear and empty.

  “Is this gonna be long enough?” Scott asked as they lifted her onto the surface.

  “On it.” Cecily appeared, pushing a short stack of boxes, which she lined up to the end of the table. It was an inch or two lower than the tabletop, but that was good enough. It was just Zander’s legs and feet that rested on it.

  And she certainly wasn’t going to complain.

  She was out. Like, out-out. Not I-took-my-meds out.

  He looked up to find Callum looking at him, but his eyes skirted away as soon as their gazes met.

  “Okay, so you got the stuff on the list?” Wren asked, breaking the seconds of tense silence.

  Scott shook himself. He looked to Cecily, who brought the paper bag to the table.

  “Yeah. We got it,” she said. “The shop had everything, just like you said it would.”

  “Great.” Wren took the bag from Cecily and turned around, disappearing through the door into the kitchen. “Let’s do this.”

  Cecily followed Wren into the kitchen—but Scott stayed where he was. Right next to Callum.

  Something felt wrong here.

  Though he couldn’t put a finger on why, he felt uneasy.

  Scott looked to his all-but-brother. Callum had pulled out one of the mismatched dining chairs and was sitting at Zander’s left shoulder, his arms crossed onto the tabletop with his face buried into them.

  He was really messed up over this. Scott knew that. Hell, he was feeling raw about the whole thing and he wasn’t in love with Zander, so he could only imagine where Callum’s head was at right now. But still, something felt off. The two of them had traveled some dark roads together in their lives—but he’d never felt like this.

  Like Callum was keeping something from him.

  “You okay?” he asked, his voice low so it wouldn’t travel beyond the two of them.

  There was a short pause, then Callum sat up with a hard inhale. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m solid.”

  Scott opened his mouth, about to ask Callum to get real with him, but at the last second, he flexed his jaw closed again and abandoned the idea.

  They’d traveled some dark roads, sure, but never anything like this. The time Callum had been stalked by an obsessive spirit had been bad—but his life hadn’t hung in the balance, even if it had felt like it had at the time.

  When Scott had come home shaky-sick and made Callum swear not to let him leave the house until he was well, it had been Scott’s own future on the line and he’d been so consumed with the battle between his head and his body he hadn’t been able to process anything beyond that.

  But they’d never fought a foe with someone else’s life hanging in the balance, let alone a life so important to Callum as Zander’s.

  So yeah, he didn’t need Callum to confirm he wasn’t okay—of course he wasn’t—and he didn’t need to grill the guy for information he didn’t want to give. What he needed to do was give him space—and stay close by.

  “I’m gonna go help Wren and Cecily,” he said. “But I’ll drop whatever I’m doing if you need me. Cool?”

  He waited for a beat longer than he normally would have, hopeful, he supposed, that Callum would say something more. But he didn’t. So, with a nod, Scott turned and headed into the kitchen.

  Wren was leaning back against the kitchen counter, a pen in one hand and her wrist held in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” Scott asked, eyeing her as she obviously tried to draw on her skin.

  “Drawing a rune on my wrist. I need one on each. Left wrist is no problem—right wrist...a little harder”

  Scott shook his head with a low laugh as he stepped closer and held out a hand. “Give me the pen.”

  One of her brows quirked as she dropped the pen into his hand.

  “What rune do you need?”

  “It’s a protection rune,” she replied. “I’ll find it on my phone so you can look at it before you try to draw it.”

  Scott reached around her. He tore a paper towel off the roll and laid it flat onto the counter. Then he quickly and easily drew the rune he had a feeling she was talking about—a quick series of interconnected lines, at once sharp and organic.

  “That one?” he asked once it was finished.

  Wren took a breath like she was ready to tell him no. But then she st
opped. “Yeah, actually. Are you Pagan?”

  Scott shook his head. “Nah. We ascribe to all and no religious beliefs around here.” He took her hand in his, flipped it over and began drawing the rune onto the inside of her wrist. “I thought Cecily was in the kitchen with you,” he said while he worked. “Where’d she go?”

  “I sent her to find candles,” Wren replied. “She said she knew where some were packed.”

  “Fair,” Scott said. “I’m pretty sure she’s packed more boxes than any of us who actually live here have at this point.”

  He heard Cecily coming down the hall just as he put the finishing touch on the rune that now graced Wren’s wrist. He turned in time to see her come into the kitchen with her arms full of candles of various size, shape, and color, like a rainbow of glassware and wax.

  “Let me help.” Scott crossed the room and took a set of candles from her so she could manage the rest.

  “Perfect,” Wren said after blowing the ink on her wrist dry. “Are you an artist or something?”

  “I’m a tattoo artist,” he replied as he sat the candles down.

  “He’s an everything artist,” Cecily said. “Tattoos and otherwise.” She reached and gave his fingers a squeeze. Then she let them go and picked up a jarred candle in each hand. “So, what do you want me to do with these?”

  “Huh, that’s good to know,” Wren remarked. “As for the candles, light them all and place them around the room. Find the ones that will be easiest to hold and set them aside.”

  “Are you going to use the candles as part of a ritual or something?” Scott asked as he began sorting the lot.

  “Or something,” Wren said. “I’m going to draw energy from the three of you, and from the environment around me—if I blow the power, I’d rather we not be plunged into darkness.”

  Scott felt his mouth pop open, but he didn’t have anything to say to that. Wren was already on her way back out to the dining room without another word. Then Cecily’s fingers were under his chin, gently pushing his mouth closed again. When he turned to look at her, she smiled.

  “Don’t pretend that wasn’t the last thing you expected her to say,” he said.

  Cecily tilted her head like she was considering it. “Probably not the last thing, but yeah, I think things are about to get real weird.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Scott watched as Zander stirred gently, her head beginning to turn but settling back to its original position like the muscles ran out of commitment before completing the job.

  Callum was perched on the edge of the sofa with his head in his hands. Scott wasn’t sure if he was sleeping, or wallowing. Or maybe he fell asleep while wallowing. The guy looked like hell. Rhia must have thought so too because she was laying at his feet and hadn’t moved since he sat down.

  Cecily was standing close by, staring out the front window at the gray clouds. She’d stepped outside for a few minutes once they’d finished lighting and placing the candles. Then she’d come inside and hadn’t left that spot by the window since. Scott wanted so badly to go to her. She’d seemed solid before, but now it was clear she was nervous. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her and tell her everything was going to be fine—even if he wasn’t certain that was the truth.

  But wouldn’t that be the same as giving Callum a giant middle finger?

  Your girlfriend is possessed and clearly isn’t okay, but I’m just gonna cuddle her sister in front of you. Cool?

  So, no, Scott stayed where he was. And he had a feeling Cecily was staying where she was for the same reason.

  Wren stepped out of the kitchen with a lit candle, the glow of it up-lighting her face in a way Scott wanted to remember—a way he wanted to paint, only with Cecily as the subject.

  Would she let him paint her? Would she let him paint on her? He’d always wanted to try that...

  Was he an asshole for even wondering that right now? Probably.

  Definitely.

  Wren sat the candle down on one of the chairs they’d pushed back against the wall, then she came close to the other side of the table where she lifted Zander’s limp wrist in her fingertips.

  If she was taking Zander’s pulse... “Are you worried about her?” Scott asked quietly. “Should we be worried about her?”

  Wren looked up at him and shook her head. “No, I’m not worried—anymore than we all are. Just keeping tabs. Old habits die hard and all that.”

  Scott felt his brow furrow in question.

  “I used to be a nurse,” Wren said in explanation. Then she glanced into the living room. “We’re ready.”

  Callum pushed himself up from the sofa and Rhia followed suit. Cecily left her spot at the window.

  On last minute instinct, Scott crossed the room and met her on her way to the table. He stepped in close so when he spoke it was to her alone.

  She looked up at him and there was anxiety in her green eyes.

  “I—I don’t know what to say. Just—,” that I love you. But wow, now was not the place to say that for the first time. What was with him?

  “Be careful,” he said instead.

  Her smile was laced with nerves, but it was warm and private. She put a hand on his chest. “We’re safe. If anything happens, help Callum get me outside. Trey will take care of the rest. I told him what was going on when I went outside, so he knows what’s up and he’s staying close by.

  “If the Shadow gets to either of you, you’ll be up over my shoulder and outside so fast nobody will have time to react,” Scott said with certainty. Though, he had to admit, getting Callum slung over his shoulder would be more challenging than Cecily’s smaller frame.

  Still, Scott knew from experience, it was not impossible.

  Cecily rose slightly onto her toes and Scott, taking the cue, dipped his head to meet her mouth with his. She smelled like flowers and sweat.

  “I know we’re not public yet, but I needed that,” Cecily said before stepping around him to join the others.

  “We’re so beyond that,” Scott replied, his voice low as he followed.

  Scott joined the others, filling out the four compass points around the table they’d pushed into the center of the small room. He watched Rhia slip silently beneath it. She laid down like she was there as back-up, and maybe that’s exactly what she was. Scott had seen Rhia go from warm, cuddly, oversized lap dog, to full on attack mode like flipping a switch—but never toward a human. He’d only seen her go attacky at things he couldn’t see at all. Sometimes it made him wonder how many dogs out there labeled aggressive were actually just spirit-sensitive. A medium in a dog’s body, like Rhia.

  It had been less than ten minutes since they put Zander on that table, but it felt like a lifetime.

  He and Cecily had helped light all the candles and placed them around the room while Wren bundled and wrapped the stems from the various herbs and plants she’d had them buy at that shop.

  That place had been the single most uncomfortable errand Scott had ever run. The guy working there, midnight-skinned with some sort of vine pattern branded into his forearms, had stared at the two of them. He’d likely assumed they were lost tourists there to gawk at the voodoo paraphernalia—until they’d said Wren’s name. Then his entire demeanor had changed. He’d become, at once, more helpful—and more serious. Like he knew that if Wren was sending the two of them, the situation must be dire.

  Scott hadn’t shared that thought with Cecily, of course. It wouldn’t do anything except make her more nervous. That’s what it had done for him, that was for sure.

  What in the hell was he even doing here? Not that he didn’t want to be there, or that he didn’t want to help Zander—of course he did!—but how was he qualified for this, exactly? The only reason he even knew this shit existed was because he was lucky enough to have Callum for a brother by circumstance. Because the two of them had clicked when Callum arrived at that foster home. Scott hadn’t spoken more than a few words in the three years before that—but within a week of Callum’s
arrival, he was being scolded for talking too much—but only to Callum. It had taken time for him to start speaking to other people.

  He dropped the thought when Wren appeared in front of him and handed him a candle. “You’re our true north.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Scott asked. That seemed like an important role.

  Wren’s brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Scott shrugged. “Because I’m not—I’m not anything like the rest of you.”

  Wren’s brows narrowed in question for a beat, then she smiled. “You’re here because of love, and that’s plenty. Do not let go of this candle, and do not move from your place.”

  “But what if—” he started, but she cut him off.

  “If the Shadow gets to one of us—then all bets are off.”

  He gave a single nod as his insides knotted.

  Then she crossed the room to stand at Zander’s head before turning and looking at them all.

  “This might get intense,” she said. “The Shadow is trapped within the cloak. To put it simply, I’m going to borrow energy from the three of you so I can match my energy wavelength to Zander’s and convince her to force the Shadow out. Just go with it. I might scream—but I’m okay. My nose might bleed—but I’m okay. Alright? Don’t sever my connection to Zander no matter what happens. Understand?”

  Great, Scott thought to himself. That made him feel better.

  Not.

  He saw Cecily and Callum give a nod, so he did the same.

  Wren lowered herself to her knees. She reached up and placed her hands onto Zander’s shoulders. Then she bent her head forward and closed her eyes.

  “Much better,” she said, her voice low.

  Then she started humming. A single, low note, issued with her exhale, pausing only long enough for her to take another breath and begin again.

  Just go with it, Scott reminded himself when a minute had passed with nothing but Wren’s humming.

  He looked to Cecily, to gauge her reaction. She was staring at Zander. So that’s where Scott put his eyes as well. Her closed eyes, her dark hair.