Possession (35 page)

Unexpectedly a white-hot flash of pain ripped
through my skull. I cried out and fell to my knees. The fire shot out in a
burst of wild orange sparks all around me and then went out. It had taken all
the strength I had to call up the fire, but I couldn’t keep it burning. I was
still feeling the effects of the electroshock therapy. I was too weak to fight.
Too weak to protect myself.

Weatherton
realized what
was happening, and a wide grin spread across his face. He raised his hands, and
I saw a ball of orange-red flame spiral toward me. I knew that
at any second,
I was going to die, consumed by
the same type of magic I’d tried to kill
him
with
. I only had seconds left, and in those seconds all I wanted most in
the world was another moment with Luke. Someone cried out my name, and a body
rushed forward. Dean leaped in front of me, and the ball of fire hit him dead
center and exploded. “DEAN!” I screamed. I covered my face with my hands, shock
pulsing through me.
I can’t lose Dean. I
can’t lose Luke. I can’t lose anyone else I care about—not again.
As
soon as I took my hands away from my eyes, I knew I’d see Dean’s body on the
ground, scorched beyond recognition.

An unearthly sound ripped through the air. I
forced myself to look, peering through my fingers. What I saw shocked me to the
core.

Dean was standing only a few feet away, alive and
unharmed.

“
Wha
—Dean!” I
called out his name, and he turned and looked at me. But his eyes were not
blue. And they were not dark. Instead, they glowed an unnatural yellow. Yellow
light shone all around his body. I said his name again and rose to my feet.
“Dean? Dean, are you okay?” I took a step forward before I realized there was
no recognition in those eyes.

Whatever I was looking at was no longer Dean.

Another ball of fire hit him, flung by
Weatherton
. It exploded into a burst of red-and-yellow
sparks. And yet, Dean didn’t fall back. He didn’t even
move
. He wasn’t damaged at all by the flames. When the sparks died
down, the glow around Dean seemed to grow. It expanded until it was a large
cloud around him. Dean raised his head and let out a
bloodcurdling
yell.

Weatherton’s
face moved
from glee to shock, all of his attention focused on Dean.

“What’s happening?” a voice asked over the
maelstrom.

I spun around. It was Andrew, but he wasn’t alone.
A crowd of both staff and patients huddled by the building’s entrance, watching
us.

Andrew started toward me, concern filling his
face. “Are you okay?”

Andrew only took one step before Dean moved toward
him, rushing forward faster than was humanly possible. He tackled Andrew and
the two of them flew through the air, landing in a tangle of limbs on the
ground. Then Dean was on top of Andrew, his fists raining down on Andrew’s face
over and over. Andrew cried out once, twice, and then fell silent. “No!” I
screamed, moving toward them.

But I was too late. Andrew would not be getting
up. His neck was twisted at an unnatural angle. One of his eyes bulged out, and
I could see that a part of his skull was torn away. As I watched, his brain
slowly slid onto the grass.

I heard screams as the watching crowd of patients
broke and ran, fleeing back into the protection of the asylum. The smell of
blood filled the air, and I didn’t blame them for running.

I felt bile rise in my throat, turned, and
vomited. When I finally righted myself, I realized in horror that Dean was on
his feet again, heading toward Wendy.

Wendy watched Dean coming toward her, but she
didn’t run. Her eyes narrowed, looking straight at him, and her expression
became one of pure concentration. For one brief moment, Dean stopped. His hands
went to his head, and he wobbled as if he might fall. But then another of
Weatherton’s
balls of fire exploded against him. When the
flames finally vanished, Dean was moving again.

I watched helplessly as he swung out his arm and
his fist connected with Wendy’s stomach. Wendy went flying ten feet in the air
before she came crashing down into the mud. She lie on the ground, motionless.

“Stop it!” I screamed. I ran to her side, but by
the time I got there, Dean had moved away. I knelt down beside her, holding my
breath. It wasn’t until I heard a soft moan that I started to breathe again. I
wept in relief.
She’s alive
.

There was a loud crash and lightning struck the
trees close by. I looked over to see Mildred standing in the rain. Her wet, white
hair flew around her face, whipped back and forth by the wind. With her hands
raised, she shouted a string of nonsensical words.

Dean was heading toward her.

“Not another step, boy—not if you know
what’s good for you,” she yelled over the wind.

Dean kept moving toward her.

“Don’t you know your Sun Tzu, boy?
Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as
night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt
.” Mildred danced in a
circle, and a bolt of lightning flashed through the sky and hit the ground a
few feet away from Dean. It was only then that I grasped what was going on: Mildred
is controlling the lightning. Mildred wasn’t supposed to be so powerful—I’d
heard nurses talking about how limited her magic was—but I watched her
wave her hands again, and another bolt of lightning whizzed through the air to
land next to Dean.

Mildred laughed, waving her hands in the air
dramatically as lightning rained down around Dean.

The lightning didn’t stop him, though. He started
moving faster. He was but a stone’s throw away from her when a bolt of
lightning finally came down and hit him.

I thought he would drop to the ground, but he kept
moving. The bolt of the lightning seemed to bounce off him. It separated out
into white sparks that zigged and zagged across the yard until they finally
crashed into the trees and building.

Another bolt of lightning deflected off him. This
one made a beeline for the metal fence and exploded against the chain link,
striking the guardhouse and a gas barbeque the guards sometimes used. The gas
inside the barbeque ignited and exploded, knocking the guardhouse flat and
bending the tall fence almost to the ground for fifty feet.

Mildred’s magic was no more successful in stopping
Dean than
Weatherton’s
had been. Dean kept moving. Just
as he was about to reach Mildred, she abruptly disappeared. She reappeared a
second later on the other side of the lawn. She laughed again and shouted
across the grass at Dean, “Ha, ha, you can’t catch me!”

“Enough!” It was
Weatherton
.
He stood over Andrew’s dead body. He held something in his hands, raising it up
to the sky. Red liquid dripped down his hands and arms.

It was Andrew’s blood. He was covered in it. I
watched in horror as the thing in his hand squirmed.

It was beating.

He had Andrew’s heart between his fingers.

Weatherton
started to
chant in a language I’d heard before. It was the same language I heard in my
visions, the same words I’d heard when I stood before the old gods.
Weatherton
lowered the heart and brought it slowly to his
lips. He opened his mouth and took a bite. Blood gushed out of his mouth,
across his lips, and down his chin.

The sound of a heart beating filled the air. It
got louder and louder—so loud I could feel it vibrating against my skin.
So loud it was echoing through my brain. I tried desperately to cover my ears.

Dean was heading for
Weatherton
.

Weatherton
raised his
hands and let out a scream. As he did, golden energy swirled around his hands.
It shot out from his fingertips in blazing streams of light. The burst of
energy hit Dean squarely in the chest and exploded all around him. Beams of
light shot off in all directions like fireworks. They whizzed toward me, and I
threw myself to the ground.

I turned my head and
watched as
Dean, unaffected by the bursts of light, reached
Weatherton
faster than should have been possible, grabbing
the shoulders of Nurse Harrington’s body. And then, without the slightest
appearance of strain, he proceeded to rip her to pieces. A mist of blood and
chunks of flesh flew into the air as Dean ripped away her arms, her head, and
random chunks of her body that continued to stand, like some grotesque
scarecrow, in the center of a whirlwind of destruction.
I closed my eyes, unable to stomach the gruesome sight.

And then there was nothing but silence. I opened
my eyes. It took me a moment to realize what I was seeing. Nurse Harrington’s
body was lying on the ground. Or, what was left of it. Guts and organs lay in a
pile on the ground, still pumping streams of blood into the air.

I looked around for Dean. For a moment I couldn’t
find him, and then I heard footsteps behind me. I spun around and found him standing
within arm’s reach. I scrambled to my feet, terrified. Those bizarre yellow
eyes glared at me from a face covered in blood. The rain poured down and washed
some of it away, but there was too much. It matted his hair and soaked his
clothes.
I looked into those eyes and
realized that there was no hatred in there. No emotion. His eyes were empty and
soulless.

“Dean,” I whispered. “Dean, can you hear me?”

Dean took a step forward. I fell back.

“Dean, it’s Colina. You don’t want to do this.” I
pleaded. You don’t want to hurt me. For the Goddess’ sake, stop!”

Dean slowed, his movements becoming uncertain, and
the expressionless mask slipped from his face, replaced with confusion. He
stumbled to a stop, looking around as if waking from a dream. He looked down at
his bloody hands for a long second and then looked back at me. The yellow glow
began to fade from his eyes, until the familiar blue was staring at me.

“Colina?” He whispered my name before crumpling to the
ground.

Tears streamed down my
face as I knelt in the mud beside Dean. His chest rose and fell.
He’s breathing. He’s still alive…but how
?
I had no idea how he survived getting hit by
Weatherton
and Mildred’s magic, but he hadn’t gotten through the fight unscathed. There
was a wicked gash above his left eye and an ugly red burn across his hands. I
reached out with shaking fingers and touched his cheek.
Dean’s alive, but is Luke still inside him?
The air around me grew
colder, and I felt a breeze slide across my cheek.

I looked up and saw a banshee barreling down on
me.
No…that’s not a banshee
. I
recognized the expression of hatred on that ghostly face.
It’s
Weatherton
in his spirit form!

The large gray mass knocked me over, and I felt a
burning sensation across my arms. I looked down and saw long welts forming.
Weatherton
was attacking me as a spirit. Luke once told me that
ghosts could get physical—they could push things, they could move things,
they could scratch.
What else can they do
?
I wasn’t about to stay and find out. I rolled, scrambling to my feet as
something tore through the back of my shirt. I had to rip open the veil between
this world and the next and shove
Weatherton
through
it—but when I tried to channel my magic, searing pain exploded inside my
head. I scanned the yard, but there was no place to run, no place to hide.

Weatherton’s
ghostly
form knocked me to the ground again and then violently tossed me onto my back.
It floated above me. Within the shadowy face, his eyes shimmered with madness.
Before I could struggle away, tentacles of gray mist stretched down and wrapped
around my neck. Ghostly hands strangled me, relentlessly squeezing my throat,
crushing with lethal intent. I couldn’t breathe. Panic overwhelmed me and I
lashed out, but my fingers clawed at nothing but air.

I’m going to
die.

I looked into those ghostly eyes, shining with so
much hatred.
Weatherton
wouldn’t stop until I left
this world. The electroshock treatment weakened me, my powers so far had been
useless… My chest burned, tears clouded my eyes, and there was no air.
My body began to go limp as my
consciousness drifted away.

Then something inside me exploded.

Time seemed to slow to a standstill.
Weatherton’s
spirit hovered above me, motionless.

And then I was
there
.

I knew
Weatherton
was
still trying to throttle my physical body, but not here. In front of the abyss,
I was in control. The ink-black void spread before me.

A light appeared behind me, opposite of the
darkness. I turned, and within it saw the outlines of people standing as if in
a lit doorway. I couldn’t make out faces, but a sense of familiarity settled over
me. Rays of golden light broached the abyss and I knew I had two options: enter
the light and leave the heartache and suffering of this world behind, or plunge
headfirst into the darkness that lived deep within me.

Wendy,
Dean,
and Mildred’s faces flashed across my mind. My friends. Once
Weatherton
killed
me,
he would destroy them, too.

I have to
fight. I have to live. I have to see
Weatherton
pay
.
I turned my back on the light.

And I leapt into the abyss.

Dark forms swam around me.
I’m not alone in here
. Something slid across my skin. Not the touch
of a spirit, but something else.
Nails, claws?
The air roared with angry cries and screams of terror. The noise beat against
my ears, filled my head. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
Would I die in here? Had I been wrong to
jump
?

There was fear inside me, but it I pushed it away.
I had to be strong.

A voice from within the darkness—within
myself
—reminded me,
There isn’t much time. Hurry now…

What do I
need to help me fight against
Weatherton
?
I asked
myself
.
He’s bound
so
many souls to him for strength. The
answer clicked then: strength. I need strength.

Was I strong enough? Could I destroy him? Or would
he kill me before I could even try?

You’re too
weak
… The electroshock therapy had bruised my mind and my body.

“I’m not weak!” I shouted into the darkness. That
rush of power, of rage, of certainty I’d felt after the second ritual—when
I stared at my changed reflection—came back to me. And with it came
strength. “I
am
strong. My strength
is here, all around me. It’s here in the darkness—the darkness living
within me.”

With that statement, an orange light sparked over
me, all around me,
through
me. I
would not give up. I want to live. I am a death dealer.

I opened my eyes.
Weatherton’s
ghostly face stared down at me. Gray tentacles were still squeezing the life
out of me. Time had sped back up. My heartbeat was so slow, so weak. I was
dying.

I focused on a spot in the air above me. Tears
filled my eyes, blurring my vision. There was such a burning in my chest. My
body screamed for oxygen, but I forced those thoughts away and concentrated on
ripping open the veil.

There was a shimmering in the air, but then a
white-hot pain flashed across my brain. This time I fought through the pain. I
forced myself to go on. I focused on the spot again. The air shimmered, and the
tiny spot began to grow.

I turned my attention back to
Weatherton’s
spirit, trying to push him toward the tear. He didn’t budge. I tried again, but
he was too strong.

And then suddenly there were other things around
me. Ghostly fingers caressed my cheek. I heard a whisper in my ear, “
You aren’t alone. We are here
.” Shapes
flickered in and out of focus around me.

Morgana
?
Weatherton
drew his strength from the spirits he’d
bound to him. The spirit pack had destroyed many of them in the fight.
If I can cross over the remaining spirits,
if I can free them from his grasp, he’ll lose power
. With the thought came
a flash of panic and doubt.
But I’ve
never crossed over more than one spirit at a time, or a banshee.

I had no idea if I could do it, but I had to try.

I glanced around at Morgana and the spirits
surrounding her and pulled them closer to me. Then, with all my might, I pushed
them toward the tear within the veil. Golden rays shot out from within the rip.
I could hear voices shouting out words of welcome, words of love. A light
blazed out and surrounded the spirits. The light bathed them within it, and
then they were slowly sucked into the hole.

I had maybe seconds left to live. I ripped open
the veil again. This time there was no light; instead, dark flames shot out. I
focused on
Weatherton
, trying to shove him toward it.
He barely moved. I pushed harder. The tentacles around my neck eased off just a
bit. I pushed again and again.
Weatherton’s
face
contorted in rage.

I was running out of strength.
My friends will all die if I don’t succeed.
They’ll all die unless I force this madman into hell. I can do this. I have to
do this.

Deep inside, a spark of anger came to life. I felt
the darkness race through me. It coursed through my blood. I completely
surrendered to the death dealer rage inside me. With more strength than I’d
ever had before, I ripped the veil wider. Dark flames flared out as the hole
grew. There is no more time, no more air in my lungs. I could feel myself
slipping away.

With one last mental scream, I forced the killer
back. I watched the flames encircle
Weatherton’s
spirit. I watched the darkness pull his ghostly
form
in
. The portal closed. As it did, my heart stopped beating.