by Mary Lindsey
“Diabetes,” Smith repeated. It was probably a new term for him.
“Yeah. She didn’t take her meds, and she hasn’t eaten. She’s going to pass out any minute, so it looks like I’m the only party in town. Ready to get in here so I can evict you to where you belong?”
“Is that what’s taken so long?” he asked. “You actually believed I’d do it voluntarily. That I’d just give up.” He laughed. “I could evict your weak soul right now if I wished it, little Speaker.”
Vivienne walked closer and stood right across the tiny table from him. “You are so full of crap. You couldn’t begin to overpower me. I’m smarter, I’m stronger, and I want you gone a whole lot more than you want to stay. So come on in and prove it.”
And right when I thought he was going to go for it, just when he opened Tibby’s mouth to speak, Cinda stuck her head into the mausoleum, and time moved in slow motion.
Maddi’s body went still as her soul departed it, then Race’s.
“Leave me open!” Vivienne shouted as Cinda screamed and Tibby fell sideways on the bench.
Rachel started up screaming again, just as Cinda stopped.
“Alden! Get Rachel out of here,” Vivienne ordered.
Rachel staggered on shaking legs toward the door while I wondered what the hell had just happened.
I didn’t have to wonder long, because Cinda blocked the doorway with her arms, keeping Rachel in, then threw her head back and laughed in Smith’s voice.
TWENTY-THREE
Cinda’s appearance had been totally unexpected, and it was unfortunate—for her especially. Smith made no move, though, and just leaned against the door frame, smiling in as if we were the greatest entertainment in the world.
“Surprise!” Smith’s voice said from her body.
Rachel scooted away, grabbed a knife from the floor, and crouched on a bench. Alden, who was still soul-sharing with her, must have told her what to do.
Tibby sat up. “Oh, my. Well, if that don’t beat all.” Her speech was slurred, and she looked awful, but it was, without a doubt, Tibby. Smith had not shoved her out.
“Hang in there, Grandma,” Vivienne said, eyes still on Cinda.
“Oh . . . oh!” Tibby’s eyes flew wide. “There’s another person in my head now. I’m mighty tired of this.” She slumped back against the wall, shaking her head.
“So am I,” Vivienne said, knife in hand.
Smith laughed. “Sick of me so soon?” He still had Cinda’s body positioned in the doorway.
I did a quick check. Maddi was in Tibby, Alden in Rachel, Smith had Cinda—because Race couldn’t get there in time— and Vivienne was open. Where was Race?
“We appear to be missing one,” Smith said from Cinda’s body. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
I had no idea what Race was up to, but I hoped it wasn’t some reckless stunt that would get one of us killed. He was probably checking out what was going on outside to be sure Cinda was alone. We needed him back in here to act as second in case I needed to soul-share with Vivienne. I doubted Smith had enough strength at this point to throw someone around noncorporeally like he had Lenzi, but I didn’t want to bet on it.
To my relief, Race’s body gasped to life. He assumed a casual pose, leaning back against the wall and crossing his legs. “Did I miss anything?”
“I’m an attractive brunette now,” Smith said, gesturing to his new host’s body.
I could tell Race was upset that the demon was possessing his new Speaker’s body by the tightness around his mouth, but his body remained relaxed.
“This could be great fun. There are so many things I could do with this girl’s body. Just like I did with Rose,” Smith taunted.
Race placed the knife he was holding beside him on the bench.
“Yes. That is wise. You don’t want to accidentally hurt her if you have to stop her from slamming her head into a hard surface, would you?” Smith turned his gaze to Vivienne. “And if I destroyed this body, that would leave just you, wouldn’t it?”
Vivienne put her hands on either side of her face and gasped. “Oh, no. That would mean you’d have to stop screwing around and wasting time with all the theatrics and deal with me directly, and we both know how that will end. You’ll be dispatched.” She put her hands down and narrowed her eyes. “That or you’ll have to just run away like a coward again.”
In Cinda’s petite body, he stormed to stand toe-to-toe with Vivienne, and I readied to intervene if he made a move to hurt her. Instead, he lunged at Alden’s soulless body and slammed the knife into his thigh near the knee.
Vivienne’s horror and anger washed over me in a staggering wave.
Smith straightened Cinda’s body and smiled at Rachel, who was housing Alden’s soul. “Ouch.” He chuckled, and the hair on the back of my skull tingled. He gestured to the knife in Alden’s leg. “Something to look forward to, Protector 438. That’s going to hurt—that is, it will hurt if you decide to abandon your duty and return to your body before you bleed to death.”
Alden would have to put his soul back into his body before it died in order to recycle in the next lifetime.
“Ugh,” Vivienne groaned, sounding disgusted and bored. I knew better; I felt her panic. She rolled her eyes. “That was such a cheap shot. I’d really hoped you were above childish stunts like that.” Without pause, she strode to the doorway, stooped under it, and left. Smith looked confused, but I knew Vivienne was leading him away from the mausoleum to keep Alden’s and Maddi’s bodies safe. Rachel’s and Tibby’s too, for that matter.
Smith growled from Cinda’s body, yanked the knife out of Rachel’s hand, grabbed her by the hair, and bolted through the doorway after Vivienne, dragging Rachel with him. Race and I followed.
Vivienne, only a few yards away from the mausoleum, spun to face Smith, hands on hips, and scowled at the screaming girl struggling to free herself from his grasp.
We needed medical backup. It was policy to wait until the resolution was complete, but Tibby and especially Alden needed medical attention right away. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, hit the top name on my favorites list—Charles—and held it behind my back, knowing if he heard Rachel screaming, he’d send help.
“I’ve gotta go back in and check on Alden’s body,” Race said, voice low enough for only me to hear. “Slow the bleeding down somehow if it’s bad.” He eyed the phone behind my back. “Vivienne promised they wouldn’t interfere. If they come now, they’ll compromise the resolution.”
If they didn’t, Alden could die. But he was right. Alden was not the most valuable player. “Speaker first,” I said out loud, quoting the IC manual. Phone still behind my back, I felt for the button on top and pressed it, canceling the call, then slid the phone back in my pocket. Race nodded and ducked inside the mausoleum.
“Let her go so she’ll shut up,” Vivienne said. “She’s giving me a headache.”
To my amazement, Smith obeyed and made Cinda’s hand release Rachel’s hair. Rachel scurried away a few feet, then bolted toward me, ducked behind my back, and grabbed my shirt.
“What are you doing?” I whispered over my shoulder.
“The guy in my head told me to come over here with you.”
“Now what do we do?” Smith’s voice said from Cinda’s mouth.
Vivienne gave a choked laugh. “You’re asking me? This is your circus, dude. Play it however you want.”
He tilted Cinda’s head in a jerky motion and studied Vivienne. “I’m not playing. This is not a game.”
“Sure it is.” Vivienne leaned against a granite obelisk and folded her arms over her chest. What sounded like hushed whispers hissed all around as a gust of wind rustled the oleander bushes and dry grass, blowing strands of hair across Vivienne’s face. She brushed the hair aside and pushed away from the monument, strolling toward the back of the cemetery.<
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“If you plan to run away from me, it’s impossible,” Smith said.
She smirked at him over her shoulder. “Do I strike you as someone who runs away?”
“No. No, you don’t,” he said.
“I’m not afraid of you. I don’t think you really want to kill me.” Vivienne dropped the knife she was holding into the tall grass and gestured for him to join her in her leisurely meander between the tombstones. “Come on, we’ll just be a couple of girls talking.”
He followed. “I’m not a girl.”
She stopped, smiled, and looked him up and down. “You look like one.”
“An unfortunate circumstance.” He held up the knife clutched in Cinda’s hand. “You would come with me even though you are unarmed?”
Vivienne pointed at her temples. “I have my rapier-sharp wit.”
“That you do.” Smith smiled. This time it wasn’t the kind that made my skin crawl. He seemed genuinely amused. He placed his knife on top of a low, wide grave marker.
Race joined me.
Vivienne shrugged. “Besides, I would never hurt another Speaker, no matter what ghoul is animating her.” She nodded to me and Race. “That’s what they’re for.”
Smith gave us a hateful glare, then returned his attention to Vivienne.
“Come on, I want to check out that creepy-looking angel thing over there.” Vivienne pointed to a monument a short distance away.
“Maybe she’s going to talk him to death,” Race said.
Vivienne looked over her shoulder and held her hand up, indicating she wanted us to stay back. No way was I letting her stay alone with a Malevolent, even if he was unarmed and in Cinda’s tiny body.
“Alden should be fine,” Race whispered. Like me, Race kept his eyes riveted on Smith and Vivienne. “No major blood vessel damage. Still, it might be wise for him to return just in case.”
That would leave Rachel open. A civilian casualty would be awful and was to be avoided at all costs.
I glanced over my shoulder at the frightened girl hanging on to me. “Rachel. I need you to take Alden back to his body.”
She clutched my shirt tighter. “No. No, please don’t make me go back in there. Please.”
Vivienne and Smith weren’t going anywhere fast, but I didn’t want them to get too far away in case he tried to hurt her physically. I untangled Rachel’s fingers from my shirt. “Go back to the mausoleum now, Rachel. You’ll be safe if you do as I say.”
Her eyes went wide, and she got a crazed look on her face. Then, she took off sprinting toward her car, parked in the middle of the cemetery road.
“Great. She picks now to grow a spine,” Race said, taking off to catch her.
I couldn’t waste time on this and let my Speaker get out of physical striking range. Vivienne and Smith had stopped to watch Race chasing Rachel down like a lion pursuing a gazelle. Race caught up with her easily and wrapped his arms around her upper body, holding her back tight against him, arms pinned against her sides, while she kicked and flailed madly.
Race hauled her to the mausoleum, and Smith and Vivienne continued toward the monument with the weeping angel on top.
Feeling for her soul’s transmissions that would indicate fear, I watched Vivienne and Smith talking as if they were friends. As if our very lives were not in danger. As if he had not brutally murdered Lenzi hours before.
Vivienne laughed and took Cinda’s hand.
“Okay, now it’s just getting weird,” Race said, joining me again. “If they start kissing, I’m out.”
I didn’t answer, but remained focused on Vivienne’s emotions. She wasn’t afraid. In fact, she flipped between anxiety and excitement. I wished I could hear what they were talking about, but with the steady wind and their distance, I couldn’t.
“So, Alden’s going to go back in his own body,” Race whispered.
“That leaves Rachel open. She’s a human. We can’t do that.”
Race shook his head. “Maddi was given authority to make decisions by Vivienne, remember? She decided that Vivienne’s grandmother was not a target for obvious reasons, so she’s going to leave her unprotected while she covers Rachel. I’ll remain on Cinda.”
I hated losing coverage of Tibby, but Maddi’s logic was sound, and it was safer for Alden to return to his body in case the injury was worse than anticipated.
“What in the hell is she doing?” Race said, shaking his head. “Usually, Smith possesses someone and starts killing people. He never just talks.”
I closed my eyes and focused on Vivienne’s transmissions. Her anxiety was lessening. “He seems to be intrigued by her. She didn’t react as he expected. I think she’s going to pull this off.”
Smith and Vivienne sat down on the stoop of a different mausoleum that looked ready to crumble apart. Plants and ferns grew from the cracks in the brick mortar, and plywood boarded up the opening instead of its original marble door, which had fallen away years ago and broken into the large pieces still littering the area in front of the structure. The moonlight leached color out of everything, making the scene even more surreal.
I shuffled closer and could hear bits and pieces of their conversation. Smith told her about a dog he’d had as a boy, and Vivienne described her cat.
“Are you ready?” Vivienne asked him.
“For what?”
She put her hand over Cinda’s. Unlike Protectors, Hindered and Malevolents had access to all the host Vessel’s senses. Smith could feel Vivienne’s touch. How long had it been since he had felt someone’s gentle touch? Probably since before 1863—possibly never.
“To move on to whatever comes after this,” Vivienne said. No fear. No taunting. No hate or need for revenge. Just an invitation.
“No.” Smith shook Cinda’s head violently. “Talk to me.”
Vivienne added her other hand to her first, enfolding Cinda’s completely. “Every ghost I’ve met wants something specific. What do you really want? I can help you.”
“Revenge.”
She shook her head. “No, no. That’s circular and getting us right back to where we were. Go back to why you want revenge.”
“Everything she said—everything she did was a lie.”
“Ah, Rose.”
“Yes. She said she loved me. That we would be together.” He slammed Cinda’s hand down so hard on the concrete, it bled. “It was all a lie.”
She took Cinda’s hand in hers. “I’m sorry you were hurt. I wish I had known you when you were alive. I think we would have been friends.”
“You lie! You’re tricking me. That’s all Speakers do.”
“I will never lie to you.” She reached over and tucked Cinda’s hair behind her ear. “I think I know what you want, but you’ve been at this demon gig so long, you don’t remember it yourself.”
Smith shook Cinda’s head. “I want revenge.”
“Yes. I wanted revenge too. But it is a secondary desire—a byproduct of having lost what I really want. I really want my mom back. I want my aunt back. I want their love. But revenge won’t get me that, will it?”
Vivienne moved slowly, like I had done with the tiny bird all those years ago to earn its trust, and she gently put her hand on the side of Cinda’s face. “You don’t want revenge. What you really want is for someone to care enough to see the real you. For someone to listen. Just like me, you want love.”
Smith didn’t respond.
I felt a pulse of anxiety from Vivienne. It was almost time. Race had felt it too and appeared ready to pounce if something physical happened.
This was it. I had no idea how it would go down, but I knew my responsibility was to wait for her command, then force Smith’s soul out of Cinda’s body. If he was weak enough or ready to leave voluntarily, he would be forced to resolution. If not, and he still had enough energy to linger in this world no
ncorporeally, we’d be doing this again in the future. I moved closer.
And then all hell broke loose.
Smith saw the Suburbans pulling in before we did, because our backs were to the entrance. Vivienne cried out in pain right after Cinda groaned. I could do nothing without a command from Vivienne.
Cinda scrambled to her feet and looked around in horror. Vivienne rolled over onto her side on the stoop of the mausoleum and screamed. Then she writhed as if she were having some kind of seizure.
Eyes huge, Cinda backed away from Vivienne. Race grabbed her by the arm and yanked her several yards away. “Is he out?” he asked.
Cinda just stared at him, uncomprehending.
“Is Smith out of your body?” Race shouted.
Vivienne got on her hands and knees and stared over at me. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.
“Yes,” Cinda said. “He’s out.”
“Can I come in?” Race asked.
“Wha . . . I don’t understand.” Cinda swayed on her feet as if she were going to faint.
Race shook her by the shoulders. “Shit, girl. Just say yes!”
“Yes?”
Still standing, Race’s body went still, and Cinda shouted out as he put his soul in her body to keep Smith from possessing her again. At least she was safe now.
Vivienne doubled over and curled into a ball. “No,” she groaned, covering her head with her arms.
I’d never been so helpless in my life. I’d seen videos, I’d read accounts, but nothing could have prepared me for this. She was literally fighting Smith for control of her own body. But I had to wait for her prompt to come in. If I went in too early, she might be the weaker soul and I would evict her instead of Smith, killing her.
Her shaking hands clawed at the bricks of the structure as she pulled her way up the wall to stand, gasping for breath, cheek against the rough surface.
“Fight, Vivienne,” I said, moving closer. “You can do this.”
She charged past me, slamming into Race’s body, which fell over, head clipping the edge of a tombstone.