The Medium's Possession

by Elle Beauregard

  Callum’s scoff was as good as “yeah right.”

  “I’m not joking,” Wren said. She could remember Zander’s voice when she talked about Callum in those early days. She’d played it cool and nonplussed but she’d been crazy for him from the first time she mentioned him while they ate beignets at that breakfast joint just down the street from this very house.

  “I never asked her how that all went down,” Wren said. “I knew you were fighting something bad. She called me, looking for help, but—”

  “You had other things to worry about,” Callum interjected when she stopped.

  “Yeah, I really did.”

  “It shook her up,” Callum went on. “She cried when she told me about your girlfriend. She never cries. But we’d just gotten back from Seattle—on a victory high after we thought we’d ended the Shadow. We were in bed, and she got quiet. I asked her what was wrong and, honestly, I didn’t expect her to tell me. You know how she can be sort of closed sometimes? So I just figured she’d brush it off. Or thought I was misreading her—we hadn’t been together long. But she told me and her voice hitched and when I looked down at her—she was lying on me at the time—her eyes were wet.” He smiled a small, far away smile at the memory. “She wiped the damp away and played it off, of course. But...I don’t know, I knew you must mean a lot to her.”

  Wren just stared at him. For six whole heartbeats she couldn’t say anything. She didn’t know whether she was moved by the story itself, or by the fact that Callum remembered it with such a beautiful, simple kind of detail. That he saw fit to share it with her in this intimate, vulnerable moment between him and the love of his life. That was when words came to her. “She’s madly in love with you,” she said. “Like, lay-it-all-bare, I’ve-never-seen-her-like-this, in love.”

  His smile was sad when he leaned his head back against the wall. “Which is what makes it all the more awful that I put her in this position to begin with.”

  Wren shook her head. “I don’t buy that. You didn’t put her in any position. Not knowingly.”

  He leveled his gaze at her. “Exactly. Not knowingly. Because I don’t know shit about any of this. I’ve lived it my entire life and I don’t know a damn thing beyond how to ignore a spirit like it’s my fucking job.”

  That brought Wren up short. “Have you not—Do you not know any other mediums?”

  “I mean, my mom, technically, but that doesn’t count. Long story. Otherwise, nobody besides Cecily—and she’s only known she was a medium since last fall because she’d lived with Zander her entire life. To her credit, though, he knows more about this shit than I do at this point.” He stopped talking like he didn’t want to go on.

  “You never explored it all, as a kid?” Not that Wren judged him for it—she hadn’t explored her magic when she was a child, either.

  He shook his head and leaned back into the wall again. “Nah. When you’re in foster care, blending in is the name of the game. Until I told Zander, Scott was the only person who knew. Well, and my Mom but she hardly counts.”

  Wren just sat and stared at him for a moment. They had more in common that he realized—more than she’d known to expect. “I didn’t explore my magic until I was an adult.”

  Callum looked at her, cynicism all over his expression. “Yet you just destroyed a fucking Shadow with your bare hands.”

  She smiled. Yeah, she still sort of felt like a badass about that. “I grew up with my grandmother, who is very religious. She still doesn’t know about my magic. I didn’t even really know about my magic until Bridgette showed it to me. That was four years ago. So, you didn’t start learning this shit when you were a kid—okay. Start learning now. You’ve got time.”

  ⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

  Cecily could hear Scott snoring lightly already as she slipped out of his bedroom. She could hear the rise and fall of quiet voices, Callum’s and Wren’s, as she silently passed Callum and Zander’s bedroom door.

  It was hard to believe it was still the same day as when Callum had shouted Cecily and Scott awake as he bound down the hall, calling her name in a terror-strangled yell. It felt like she’d been awake for a week.

  What they’d done today—what she’d seen Wren do, seen Zander’s body do on top of that table—it was next level. She’d been doing a lot of studying in the last twelve months, reading everything she could find about spirits, the other side, her role and skills as a medium. She’d been looking inward through meditation and journaling so she could find her relationship to it, her place within this world she hadn’t known existed before and learn the limits of her skills. She’d discovered parts of herself she hadn’t known before through all her study and self-reflection. She was an inexperienced medium, new to everything, but she was learning, and she’d taught herself a lot—and none of it came close to the level of supernatural, paranormal shit they’d witnessed today.

  Jesus, the way Scott had shouted, the sound strangled and scared, before he slumped to the floor, boneless, was something Cecily knew she’d never forget. Something that was liable to play on a loop in her head in her darkest moments when her anxiety got the best of her and she couldn’t sleep.

  Except all she’d have to do now, when that happened, was roll over, wasn’t it? Because Scott would be there. Because they were moving in together. Because he was fine. He’d survived that partial intrusion even though, for a few moments, she had been certain he was already gone.

  But he wasn’t. He wasn’t gone. He was sleeping in his bed—soon to be hers, too.

  Which was why she was padding across the living room now, on her way to have a conversation she never thought she’d have. She stole a glance at the clock in the kitchen: 9:03 p.m. Then she slid her feet into a pair of Zander’s flip flops that had been tossed into a corner of the dining room in the rush to get the room ritual-ready this afternoon.

  Something warm and damp bumped her hand while she did it and when she turned, she found Rhia standing beside her with an expectant expression.

  “You wanna come outside, too?” she whispered.

  Rhia stepped in place, tongue lolling like she loved the idea. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet this afternoon. As soon as the Shadow had emerged, she’d gone ballistic, but as soon as Wren had captured it—as soon as Scott slumped to the floor—she’d gone quiet. At least that’s what Cecily remembered, but then it could have been that she simply hadn’t registered anything else around her once she saw Scott fall. Rhia could have gone into full attack mode and as long as it hadn’t been aimed at Scott, Cecily wouldn’t have noticed.

  She let herself out onto the back patio with Rhia a silent shadow at her side. She crossed the patio and out of the rune’s protection, into the grass. She avoided the part of the yard where Scott had laid—where they’d kissed and kissed and made promises against each other’s skin.

  “Don’t ever leave me,” she’d said between their mouths.

  “I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours,” he’d mumbled against her lips.

  “Hey Cissy.”

  Cecily turned to find Trevor standing a few steps away—farther away than he’d have normally appeared—and something quieted inside her. This was right. What she was about to do was right. “Hey, Trey.”

  She cared about Trevor so much, and she always would. But she needed to move forward—to move on.

  “How’s your boy?”

  She paused for a second, her attention caught on Trey’s turn of phrase. “He’s good. He’ll be okay.”

  “And you?” Trey’s smile was warm, small, and gentle.

  Cecily gave a nod. “I’m good. Are we?”

  His brows furrowed and he stepped closer. “That was never in question. We’re good, Cissy.”

  Her eyes stung so she nodded instead of speaking.

  “You’re good together,” Trey said simply, his smile half smirk, his eyes even warmer than they’d been before. “He’s solid. And you’re happy with him.”

  She paused, over
come with the truth of what he’d just said. “I really am.”

  Now Trevor’s smile spread. “And I’m so happy for you.”

  Tears blurred her vision so the sight of him fuzzed out, but she didn’t need to see him to know he wasn’t going anywhere. She wiped the tears away.

  “I love you, Trey.”

  “I love you, too, Cissy. Always. You know that.”

  She laughed under her breath as she scrubbed more tears away with the collar of her shirt. “I thought he was gone today.”

  “I know. But he’s still here—there, I mean, with you.”

  Cecily nodded and drew a breath. Scott was fine. They were fine. Which meant they were moving forward—together. Because she couldn’t imagine her life without him. “I’m moving in with him.”

  Now when Trevor’s smile spread, it was accompanied by a sort of low, amazed laugh. “Wow. Okay. That’s awesome.” He gave a nod. “We need to set some ground rules, though, huh?”

  She was glad he said it so she didn’t have to. She gave another nod as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yeah, I think we do.”

  It was an hour later when Cecily silently slipped back into Scott’s room. She and Trevor had talked—a lot, about a lot of things—and she felt better than she had in a long time, in some ways. In others, like when she thought about Scott slumping to the floor earlier, or when she let mind start spinning on all the what-ifs that being with him conjured—what if something happened to him, what if they didn’t work out?—she was still brittle. And that was okay, she told herself. She didn’t have to have everything under control to be okay. She didn’t have to be perfect to be well.

  She closed the door behind her using her hand against the jam to keep it quiet while she did it.

  “I’m awake.”

  Turning with a start, she found Scott sitting up in bed. His hair was a mess and there was a book in his lap, though the light in the room wasn’t nearly enough to read by.

  “What are you doing up?” She crawled to him from the foot of the bed.

  “I slept for a while; I only woke up a few minutes ago.” He seemed quiet, thoughtful maybe? Or still exhausted.

  “I expected you to still be sleeping, but all things considered I’m glad you’re awake.”

  He lifted his arm and she sat herself beside him, tucked securely to his side where she could put her head onto his shoulder and revel in the warmth of him.

  “How’d your conversation with Trey go?” Scott asked, his voice low, after a number of quiet moments.

  “Good,” she replied. “Really good, actually.”

  His hum of a sigh was peaceful and happy. “And how’s Zander?”

  “Still sleeping, I think. How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Is the Shadow gone?”

  Cecily sat up and looked at him. “It’s gone, yeah. Wren destroyed it—or banished it, or something—after... Well, after you passed out.”

  “Good. I’m glad it’s gone.” He snugged his arm around her again and she snuggled back in with her head tucked into his neck.

  “Was it the pain?” she asked. “That made you pass out, I mean. A partial intrusion hurts like hell.” She wasn’t sure why she wanted to know, but she did. She needed to know what had happened.

  “No, it wasn’t the pain. I just—” He paused and she looked up at him again, sensing something she couldn’t put a finger on.

  “I don’t know what happened,” he said. “One minute I was standing there, the next my chest was on fire—and, yeah, it hurt like hell. But then...” he shrugged and shook his head.

  He didn’t remember what happened next. That made so much sense. . Of course he didn’t remember—he’d been unconscious.

  “I thought you’d stopped breathing,” she said, sitting up a bit so she could see him more clearly. “It was—really awful.” She tried for a laugh but it fell short.

  He took her hand, the one laying on his stomach, and brought it to his lips where he turned it to kiss her knuckles. When he looked at her, his eyes lingered on her lips before they met her eyes. “Come to bed.”

  Her smile took no effort this time. “That sounds amazing. Can I borrow another T-shirt?”

  The low, private tone to his chuckle was all kinds of sexy. “Please do.”

  Cecily crawled off the bed. She slid open the top drawer of Scott’s dresser—the same drawer he’d pulled the tee he’d lent her this morning from in their mad dash to meet Callum in the hall. Then she pulled the first T-shirt off the stack—soft and black, with a few non-intentional paint splatters across the edge and near the hem.

  “That’s a paint shirt,” he said quietly. “You can grab another if you want.”

  “No, I like it.” She smirked at him before she peeled the shirt she was wearing up over her head. She almost left the shirt sitting on the bed and crawled up onto Scott without it, but stopped herself. He was clearly still recovering—he did not need aerobic activity of the sort she had in mind right now. So she plucked the tee up from the where she’d set it, slipped her arms through, and then pulled it down over her head again.

  It smelled like Scott. Pure, unadulterated Scott.

  “Trevor was there.”

  Huh? She gave Scott a questioning look—but then it clicked. He was talking about this afternoon. “Yeah, he cleared the remnants the Shadow left behind when it hit you,” she explained as she smoothed the hem of the shirt down and hooked her fingers into the waistband of her shorts, ready to pull them off.

  “I met him,” Scott said.

  She stopped. Everything stopped.

  “One second my chest was on fire,” he went on like he couldn’t stop. “The next I was in the yard and there wasn’t any pain. Trevor was with me—and my body was with you.”

  She couldn’t move. She didn’t even breathe until her lungs flexed and sucked in a desperate plea for air.

  “Say something,” he said. “Please.”

  Keep breathing. In, out. Inhale. Exhale. “I—I gotta go brush my teeth.” Cecily turned and pulled the door open. She bounced off the door frame when she misjudged the doorway through rapidly blurring vision, but she kept going.

  She just had to brush her teeth. So much.

  If she just brushed her teeth, she’d come back into the room, and she’d crawl into bed, and they’d go to sleep—

  But as she opened the door to the bathroom, she began to crumble.

  She’d lost him. Just like she’d lost Trevor.

  She threw the door closed behind her and caught the wall, gasping for air that she knew she was breathing but still, she drowned. Her knees went weak and, with her shoulder pressed against the wall, she slid downward—only she didn’t land. Scott’s arms caught her. They guided her down so she landed tucked against him where she clung to him—and let go.

  “I knew it!” she choked. “I knew you were gone!”

  “Shhh.” He cradled and rocked her as sobs stole her words again. “I wasn’t though,” he said, his lips against her hair. “I wasn’t. Trey knew I wasn’t staying with him. He said I couldn’t leave you yet.”

  She swallowed the sound, but her crying continued, shaking her body in his arms.

  And he never let go, even as minutes passed and her tears began to ebb.

  “I thought you were gone,” she breathed. “Because you were.”

  He didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he hooked an arm under her knees, keeping the other tucked around her back, and stood.

  Cecily gasped as he lifted her, equal parts surprised and concerned. “No, you should rest.”

  “Ceelee, I’m fine,” he murmured gently as he angled them through the door and into the hallway.

  She closed her eyes and tucked her face into his neck as a fresh round of tears burned her eyes. But these were different. They were a sort of sad-happy mix.

  He had left—and he’d come back. He was back here, with her. And she was so grateful.

  “We’re okay,” Scott murmured into her hai
r as he let them back into his bedroom where he carried her all the way to the bed.

  He sat her feet on the floor but held her tight as he pulled back the covers on what she already considered her side of the bed. Then he guided her to sit, and lay down.

  “You’re the one who nearly died today, but I’m the one crying,” she remarked as she lay herself onto the bed.

  Scott’s smile was small and somber as he reached for the fly of her shorts. He was always taking care of her. “I can’t say it wasn’t a shock, but I’m good with it, I think. Should I have not told you?”

  “Of course you should have told me,” she said, lifting her hips so he could slide the shorts down her legs. “And you don’t have to be good with it for my sake. I—I think I knew. I’d just convinced myself I was wrong. But I’m okay—you’re here, and I’m okay. So tell me if you’re not.”

  He gave a nod and tossed the shorts onto the floor. “I will. I promise.” When he looked at her again, something in his eyes had changed, deepened into something hungry. “But right now, all I want is to get inside you. Like proving I’m really here, or something.”

  When her breath went shallow this time, it had nothing to do with fear or despair—and everything to do with desire. “Then prove it to me.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Cecily couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. Yeah, her skin was taught where tears had dried on her cheeks as she slept during the night, but as she laid in Scott’s bed, listening to him breathe and watching him sleep in the sunlight that streamed in between the blinds on the window, she just couldn’t stop smiling.

  Zander was saved.

  Scott wasn’t dead.

  And they’d finally destroyed that Shadow asshole once and for all.

  Yeah, it felt pretty damn good. Even while knowing she’d almost lost Scott made her want to start crying all over again every time she thought about it.

  So she wouldn’t think about it. Instead, she cast her mind back to last night—to all the reasons she was deliciously sore and her hair, she felt certain, was a complete wreck.

  They’d made love twice. Well, correction, they’d fucked like wild animals first—that was the only way she could describe it. She didn’t know being with Scott would be like that—didn’t know she could be like that. They’d had to keep the sounds to a minimum, of course, with Callum’s room right down the hall, but she didn’t need to hear him to know Scott was getting what he needed. She didn’t need to make a sound for him to know when she was coming.