by Ruby Raine
EMILY MORGAN PLUNKED down on the swing outside on the back porch of her Aunt Lucy's home in Georgia. The heat was sticking to her skin like an oven on constant pre-heat, even as night set in. And they'd spent the entire day practicing how to control her power as a Spirit Vessel.
Basically, the spirit of her dead mother tried to possess her, and her aunt was teaching her how to block that from happening. So far, Emily had only succeeded once, and she was pretty damn certain her mother had gone easy on her to give her a win.
But now, it was late night mojitos under the bright mooned and starry sky.
Emily only wished there was a way both her aunt and mother could join her at the same time. Still, she'd not trade a moment she could take with her mother because the reality was at some point too near, she'd have to move on. And they'd have to say goodbye.
"Is it really possible to block spirits?" Emily questioned Lucy, exhausted from the effort of trying.
"It is. But it takes time to learn, like anything."
"And what happens if I get possessed before I learn how to do this?"
"You have me, and my skills to exorcise the spirit out of you."
That was a bit of relief, at least.
"How does that work?" Emily asked.
"There's a few ways. It depends on the depth of the possession and how strong the spirit has attached themselves to you."
"Okay." She shuddered at that idea.
"There's a potion, that if drunk can usually do the trick and force a spirit out. There's a spell, but the more witches saying it the stronger it will be—and, you need witches hanging around. And, well, there's also simply just—asking..."
"Seriously? Ask it to leave?"
"Sometimes, a spirit doesn't fully realize what they've done and simply need to take care of some unfinished business, and is quite willing to leave and move on when finished. Sometimes, they just want to pass along an important message and will voluntarily leave when done."
"Let's hope that's the case if it ever happens to me."
"The issue is, once they are back inside the body of a living person the feeling can be addictive and they don't want to leave. Once they get back a sense of humanity and being alive again, they don't always want to give it up. And if you're invaded by a supernatural being..."
"Like Eva Jordan." Emily winced at that name.
"Yes, like that bitch. It's just like being alive again. The memories. The gifts. The skills. Their entire person downloaded into yours."
And that was something Emily didn't want to feel again. She hadn't been present and aware right as it was happening. But the memories of her possessed time had slowly come back to her and it was overwhelming to feel so helpless. To hold onto those vicious memories. To Michael and Charlie manhandling her like she was really Eva Jordan because they'd believed she was. They'd thought Eva had shifted into Emily to confuse them, but it was actually her body they attacked. And stabbed. And wrapped burning silver around.
Emily was smart enough to see that they'd done their jobs the best they could. And she didn't even disagree with what they'd done when they believed Eva was playing games with them. And in the end, they were not responsible for her father's death, for what happened to her, or to William or Melinda or anyone.
Without her ring to protect her anymore, though, thanks to Stricker stealing it, she had never been so vulnerable. The Feyk known as Sir Tinkham Sickereaux—just thinking the name made her cringe—would hopefully get what was coming to him.
In the end, the fault was with Eva and Stricker and the Feyk.
Not the Howards. Not her own ability. Not Riley's curse. Not anything else.
But even though logic told her all of this, her heart just wasn't caught up yet.
And more so than this, it was the reality of what she was and what frightening possibilities that led to. She was more and more grateful to be here with her aunt to learn how to make sure a possession like that never happened again.
"You okay?" Lucy asked. Emily caught her aunt's concerned smirk. "Your jaw is grinding pretty hard."
Emily relaxed her jaw. "Just thinking. About what happened on the Isle."
"That's good. The jaw grinding is progress from the hardened scowl that would scare my crows away."
Emily's mouth lifted in the smallest of smiles. "The distance is helping. I just needed some Demon Isle free air I guess." Of course, that meant Michael too. She'd lifted her phone more times to count with the thought of reaching out, but she still had no answers for his questions, so she had chickened out every time.
"A change of scene can give some clarity to things. But, you might also consider that returning, at some point, would have its benefits as well."
"How do you mean?"
"Meaning you can't run from what happened any more than you can run from what you are. Take it from an aging woman who's learned the hard way." She spoke of the spat that split up her and her twin, Lily.
"How do I do that, Aunt Lucy? Go home and face that place. Go to where my father was murdered? Face the people, whom I love dearly, but my brain and my heart hold partly responsible for not saving him. And frankly, a place I despise for simply the fact that we were living there because of me. My parents moved to the Isle, for me. Hoping the rumors they'd heard about magic being stronger there were true, so the ring would never fail me."
"Those are things what will take time, Emily. There is no easy button for forgiveness. Or acceptance. But I think it starts with reclaiming what is yours. Taking back your power. Your life. Nothing will ever go back to the way it was, things have irrevocably changed. That's a hard truth for anyone to accept."
Emily sipped on her drink.
"I see your points. They make perfect sense. My heart and mind just aren't there yet."
"And that's okay. They don't have to be tonight. Because tonight—is for moonlight and mojitos."
Emily chuckled and clanked her glass to her aunt's and they each took another swig.
"I appreciate your faith in me, but I'm doubting it in myself. Not just the blocking spirits thing, but that I'll ever be ready to go back."
"I think you'll surprise yourself. One of these days you'll just know you're ready. And if you're an Arnaud like me, rather than your mother, you might need a little push and I'll be sure my foot meets your ass if that time comes."
Emily almost spit out her drink trying not to laugh at that picture.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."
"I won't let it. I don't want you to be like me. Living with regret, and fear of change."
Emily nodded. When her aunt put it so simply, it almost seemed silly that she wasn't in her car right now heading back to The Demon Isle.
"A toast to the future," said Emily, lifting her glass. "No regrets. Accept the things we cannot change. And don't be like you..." she trailed off in a drunken giggle.
Lucy broke out in laughter. She couldn't recall the last time she'd laughed so hard.
WHERE HAD THE TIME disappeared to?
"Is it really two in the morning already?" Lucy slurred out.
"I guess times flies when you're—I've lost count—how many mojitos in," Emily slurred right back. As well as hours into interchanging conversations between your aunt, and your dead mother possessing your aunt. They stumbled across the porch, arm in arm, neither really doing a good job at holding up the other, and made it into the house. They climbed the stairs to the second floor, one slow attempt at a time, after backtracking a step or two in between.
It seemed like climbing a mountain by the time they reached the top.
Lucy stumbled into her bedroom with an incoherent goodnight to Emily, and faceplanted on her bed, fully dressed, with a groan and a half-hearted attempt at putting her head on her pillow.
Emily never thought a bed looked so inviting as when she fell backwards onto hers, letting the dizzy in her brain suck her into a haze of darkness. But a sudden chill broke through the stale heat. She shivered, an icy warning standing up
the hairs on her arms to attention.
Somewhere in the depths of her drunken mind, she told herself to wake up. That something wasn't right. That something was in her room. She pried her eyes open and blinked away the haze only to freeze with her eyes wide open, the air sucked out of her lungs, and wondering if she'd passed out or if this was real.
As she lay flat on her bed, the spirit of a woman lay over her like a mirror image. And without a moment to even try to gather her thoughts or fight the thing off, the spirit sank down into Emily.
Her bedroom door flew open and Lucy filled the frame—only it wasn't passed out Lucy but rather her sister, Lily, possessing her. She'd sensed the arrival of another spirit but she hadn't moved fast enough to stop it from invading her daughter.
Lily/Lucy held up a hand with a potion bottle in it.
"Get out of my daughter, and I won't force you to move on. Or try to stay, and this will be your last day on this earthly plane."
Emily's body stretched upward off the bed, the new inhabitant taking a quick glance downward as if shocked that her attempt had worked. But the moment was fleeting and sharp eyes pinned on Lily/Lucy.
"Please don't use that on me. I'm not here to harm anyone. I need help."
Lily/Lucy faltered. There was a fine line between knowing when to give a spirit a chance, because sometimes they just needed to pass on a message and moved on.
"Speak quickly," she decided. But her potion hand remained vigilant.
"I must get to The Demon Isle off the coast of Maine. Someone I love is in grave danger there. I must warn them and then this vessel can have herself back. I'm not trying to stay. I swear it. But I'll not let the love of my life die because I didn't warn her."
Lily/Lucy let her hand drop.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Bree Laurent. I'm a witch. My coven was murdered and now my fiancé, the only one of us who survived, is in grave danger. I have to go to her and then I'll leave this vessel. I swear on my dead coven's graves."
Lily/Lucy thought hard about it for about six seconds.
"Fine. We'll start driving right now because I sense no lie in you. But any funny business, and—" she waved around the potion bottle. "I'll take first shift driving. My sister is passed out right now." And boy was she going to be pissed when she awakened in a car, on the road, and not her bed in Georgia.
TWO NIGHTS LATER...
Footsteps lit down the stairs of William Wakefield's basement in Sorcier, in the heart of the French Quarter, where Riley Deane twisted in relief to see Annie flying toward him.
"Thanks for coming," he called out as she glided closer to William's cell. He was in the final hours of his detox from the bloodlust. But it was also the most brutal part. Like a harsh fever before it burned out.
And Riley was freaking out because the vampire appeared to have passed out—after throwing a massive fit of epic proportions, which involved kicking and punching and shouting and snarling—to the point where Riley was poised with the werewolf blood just in case he broke out. And pretty much figuring he was William's next meal.
The cell was trashed and there were a few new craters punched into the cement walls. And the vampire was slumped onto the floor mumbling to himself, but unresponsive to outside forces.
"Shit," Annie hissed out as she saw him. "Poor William. Detox is hell."
"Is this supposed to happen?" asked Riley. "I mean, he said things would get freaky but he never said anything about passing out. Or what to do if that happened. He was having a major fit and seconds later his eyes rolled up and, well..." he pointed into the cell. " It's definitely the worst it has been and we're in the final hours. He hasn't moved since he fell down. But he's talking to himself."
"He looks more zombie than vampire right now," Annie tried to make light. But she wasn't wrong there. William's face was sunken in and paler than normal, a touch green even. Dark circles rung his eyes and even his normal tidy appearance was taking on the look of a wild man. And he was babbling incoherently, like he was fighting with himself.
"What can I do?" Riley asked. He held up a blood pack. "He's supposed to drink this in a few minutes. We're well into the animal blood now. There's no human left."
"We can't open the door," Annie breathed out. "This does happen sometimes. Withdrawal can be brutal. But only so as I've witnessed. I've never had to do it myself." Because she'd never drank any human blood.
"How long will this last?"
"Hard to say. Hours, most likely. But once he wakes up from this, he'll be done."
"Just like that. From zombie vampire to detox over?"
"Yes. Whatever human blood remains inside of him is turning on him. It's like a crazy sugar high. You have some, you get a burst of energy, you crash, and then your body screams for more. But picture that like a hundred times more powerful. His body is freaking out over the lack of human blood and setting off a craving bomb trying to get more, and it's punishing him for not doing so."
"Remind to never get hooked on drugs," Riley mumbled airily.
"It's not so different. From what I understand, coming off human blood can make a vampire relive their worst nightmares and memories. Turn their greatest fears against them by forcing them to face them. And even admit their truest and most brutal desires—which, admittedly, for a vampire can run on the dark side of things. It's like the mind is broken wide open and there's no way to suppress the things you might have forgotten about, or stuffed in deep in the hopes of forgetting."
"Ah, so he's having a bad trip of the suppressed memories kind," Riley surmised.
"Something like that. But it can also be—healing in a way. Like an oversized, slam you in the face dose of therapy and clarity. It's kind of sick, but just like in the human world, where certain drugs are thought to open the mind and offer some explanation on the meaning of life, some vampires will knowingly go on a planned human blood binge just to suffer the detox and explore the depths of life's little mysteries."
"That is a bit twisted. But, I guess even vampires have the right to find answers to life's philosophical questions, the same as humans."
"Wow. I think you've been living with us vampires too long. Look at you giving us cred and all that."
Riley rolled his eyes. "I just can't diss anyone trying to better themselves, even if it is kind of a fucked up process to get there. You've never been tempted to try it?" he was compelled to ask.
"Tempted, yes. No point in lying about it. But in the end, I decided it wasn't worth taking the chance I'd get hooked on the human crack."
Riley let out a snort. What had his life come to, hanging out and being friends with vampires?
"What tempted you? I mean, was there a specific question you were trying to get answered?"
She nodded. "My purpose in this existence. Something I still haven't managed to figure out. But there's got to be a point to all of it, right? Even for someone like me?"
"I suppose. But it is much more of a human trait, to believe in a purpose."
"It is, I'll give you that. But I think because of our lifestyle choice we tend to keep more of our human traits than vampires who hold no value on humanity, other than a food source."
"Not a topic I've ever given any real thought to."
"Can't imagine why not?" she teased, taking another look in on William. No change. She sighed. "It's too dangerous to open the door. He's at his most dangerous at this point because he's not in his right mind, he's stuck deep inside of it." She gave a shudder at that idea. A vampire's mind was often treacherous when forced open.
Riley put the blood pack back in the fridge and scrubbed his hand through his hair.
Annie patted him on the shoulder.
"You're doing a fabulous job, if it's any consolation."
"A job that wouldn't be needed if I hadn't gotten cursed by the Feyk."
"Moot at this point because we can't go back in time, Riley. You seriously need to forgive yourself for what happened, because it wasn't your fault. William knows
that, as does everyone else. And I'm sure once William comes through this, he'll agree you suffered enough penance, regardless."
Riley plunked down in a chair outside the cell and let his head fall into his hands.
"Sorry to have dragged you into this," he apologized a minute later. "William didn't want that because of all the blood. I guess most of it is gone now though. We're down to the last of it."
Annie smiled. "I'm used to it. Not that it's not a constant temptation, especially so much of the human stuff when it's in one place. But we only serve animal blood at the pub. No one in Sorcier drinks the human kind." She took a seat near Riley. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Before the detox got too freaky, was William—I don't know—acting normal?"
"Um—" he shrugged.
"Stupid question, because of course he wasn't." She changed subjects. "Has Jean been acting funny at all, when she's stopped in to check on things?"
"No—" but there was a hesitation. "I can't say she was acting weird or not since I don't know her all that well, and it could be because she was worried about him going through this."
"What did she do?"
"Just some far off looks. But also this weighted thought in her eyes. Why do you ask?"
"I can't say exactly. Something is just—off. Jean's been acting funny and from experience, there's something she doesn't want me to know. And I realize William's been through a lot, but he hasn't been his normal self since he got here. He seems—distant."
"Why would they hide something from you? And what would they have to hide?"
"Can't imagine. They never have before. But I can tell when people or vampires are lying. And I was packing some of my things to bring to The Demon Isle and Jean just... I don't know. I can feel it surrounding her. This lie. Some secret. And it's eating her alive, whatever it is."
"Is she just sad you're leaving, to go with William?"
"Worried a little, I'm sure. But I've left before, and something this time is different."
There was a groan from the cell and they both bounded upward to peer inside. William's lips were moving like he was talking to himself, but he was still on the floor, unmoving, other than his lips. He was saying something Riley wasn't able to hear, but from the lifted eyebrow on Annie's face, and sudden looking in the other direction, she'd heard it, and did not want to share.