The Medium's Possession Page 13

  It was a text from her soon-to-be roommate.

  Hey. I got let go from work today. I have to live with my parents until I find another job, so no-go on the apartment. Sorry.

  “What the hell?” Cecily only realized she’d sat up when she felt Scott’s hand on her back.

  “What’s the matter?” His tone had lost all of the sleepy deepness it had had just moments ago. Now it held an edge of ready-to-go-to-battle-for-you that she’d heard in his voice only a couple of times before this—and appreciated in a new way now as she looked to him, hair a mess, shirtless because of her.

  “The friend I was going to get the apartment with—she just backed out.”

  Scott’s expression turned to instant oh-no-that’s-awful. “Shit. That sucks.”

  Cecily looked at the message on her phone again, then back at Scott’s face—and made a decision.

  She was not going to worry about this now. She had made the decision to move out of the apartment she shared with her mom and Alyssa, and she would do that—even if she had to make that happen in a whole new way now. But she was not going to make those plans here, in Scott’s bed, in the afterglow of the kind of sex people wrote poetry about. She wasn’t even going to think about the plan, the apartment, or her friend’s text message. They would be waiting for her tomorrow, or next week when she was back in Seattle. Now was not the time.

  She would not let them steal this moment with Scott from her.

  So she put her phone back on the bedside table and smiled at Scott as she slid back beneath the covers. “I’ll worry about it later—”

  “Move in with us.”

  Cecily’s mind went blank. She stared at him. Had she heard him right?

  “Move in with us,” he said again, with more fervor this time. “There’s a spare bedroom. I’m not saying we have to share a room—”

  “But I’d want to,” she cut in, shocking herself. She hadn’t meant to say that—even though she meant it. But before she could worry, Scott’s smile grew.

  “So would I.”

  “Wait.” She needed to think rationally here—which was becoming harder and harder to do through the ringing excitement building in her chest. “Should you ask Callum and Zander if they’re okay with me moving in?”

  “Maybe? But, think about it, Zander’s not going to say no, and Callum loves you like a sister. It’ll be fine.”

  He was probably right. No, he was definitely right.

  She laughed quietly as she slid across the mattress. She brought her hands to his backside and her hips to his hips where she could feel that he was as ready for another round as she was.

  She smirked up at him. “Are you sure you won’t get tired of me?”

  His appreciative growl told her everything she needed to know. “I’m sure I’ll be exhausted because of you—but never tired of you.” His kissed her.

  ⫷⫸⫷⫸⫷⫸

  Callum startled awake. He didn’t remember falling asleep, so waking up proved disorienting. It was silent in the house; the gray, almost-light around the edge of the blinds made him think it would me morning soon. He rolled his head a couple of times, stretching stiffness from his neck. He’d fallen asleep sitting up—not exactly the best sleeping position.

  His stomach felt sour, like he’d been drinking even though he hadn’t.

  He reached to check on Zander, maybe lie down and tuck himself around her but his fingers landed on mattress.

  She wasn’t there. Rumpled sheets were the only evidence she’d been lying beside him.

  Panic spiking in Callum’s still sleep-jumbled brain, he shot a glance to the bedroom door—closed. Then across the room to check the clock that sat on the desk—only to find Zander before he’d found the time.

  She was standing at the end of the bed. Staring at him.

  He pushed his adrenaline reaction down, ignoring the shiver that went up his spine.

  He’d woken up with people standing at the end of his bed before, when he was a kid—they’d just never been living.

  “Hey, baby,” he whispered. “You scared me. You okay?”

  There was a pause before she spoke. “I’m leaving.”

  Callum felt his brows furrow and his jaw get tight. “What?”

  “I’m leaving you. I can’t stay here.”

  She wasn’t even speaking with inflection.

  “Are you awake?” he asked. Or was she sleep walking? Was this a reaction to the meds?

  “I’m awake,” she replied, the timing still stilted and off. She was too still, standing there. Unmoving.

  “Okay, look.” Callum swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. He reached for her as he drew near, wanting to comfort her. “It’s the middle of the night, and you’re on some seriously heavy shit right now. Stay here tonight—sleep it off. You’ll feel better in the morning and we can talk about this.”

  She just looked at him, with his hand on her back. She wasn’t even dressed, standing there in a pair of his boxers she wore as sleep shorts and a tank top.

  She shrugged his hand away with a gasp like she’d only just realized he was touching her.

  “Don’t touch me,” she hissed. “And don’t try to make me stay. You’re always convincing me to stay.”

  Huh? “What is that—” supposed to mean? But he stopped himself. Instead of blowing them into a fight, he pressed his fingers into his temples for a breath. Then he dropped his arms and reached for her again—to herd her back toward the bed this time, instead of touch her.

  “Please come back to bed,” he begged. “You don’t have to leave. I love you, and we’ll figure this out. Remember? That’s what we said as we fell asleep.”

  She stepped around his arms with a scoff. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how long I’ve been faking it?”

  She wasn’t in her right mind, Callum reminded himself through the pain cracking in his chest. The doctors had said she might say things she didn’t mean—and probably not remember them later. So he wasn’t sure if the pain behind his ribs was in response to what she said, or the fact that she was saying it.

  “God, I’m so sorry,” he found himself breathing, his head falling forward, despair and guilt lacing up his spine.

  “Callum?”

  He looked up at her and found her looking at him with concern and worry on her face.

  “Callum, no. This isn’t about you.”

  He reached for her, frantic, realizing that his real Zander was there. Feeling her in the room—having not realized she was gone. “Zander?” He pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her waist and bringing a hand to the side of her face. “Baby, what’s going on?”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whimpered. “I can’t hold on.”

  “What? No, you don’t have to leave. Please,” he begged her through a clenched jaw.

  She pushed him away. “Don’t ‘please’ me,” she spat. “There’s nothing here,” she motioned to the space between them. “And I took care of what was here.” She put her hand to her chest, over her heart. “So stop trying to make me stay.”

  Dizzy from her mental gymnastics, Callum stepped back. The back of his knees hit the bed and he let them give out so he dropped down to sit onto the mattress behind him.

  He was about to watch her leave—and then he was going to call 911. Because something was seriously wrong here.

  “We aren’t going anywhere,” she spat at him. “You don’t even want kids.”

  Wait. What?

  Everything ground to a halt in his mind.

  In all their time together, they’d talked about the future a lot. And never, in any version, did it include wanting children.

  He sprang up from the bed and grabbed her wrist when she made to walk to the door.

  They were of a like mind on the kids thing.

  So where the hell was this coming from?

  His fingers still tight around her wrist, he spun to put himself between her and the door, then he flipped on the light.

  She s
quinted, turning her face away and closing her eyes against the brightness but he forced his eyes to stay open.

  “Look at me,” he demanded. Bringing his free hand to her jaw, he turned her face to him and waited for her eyes to open while she tried to pull away.

  “Open your eyes,” he gritted out.

  Her eyes sprang open and he gasped.

  He dropped her hand, pulled his fingers away from her jaw, and stepped back as fear and panic rose to a fever pitch in his chest.

  “Fuck.” Her eyes were black.

  The doorknob bit into his back and shot him into motion. Grasping it, he turned, yanked the door open and flew through the frame, slamming it closed behind him.

  “Cecily!” he called as he ran down the hall, his brain a buzzing whir of panic and thoughts that were flying a hundred miles an hour in his skull.

  It was the Shadow. Just like Zander had known.

  He’d dismissed it

  He’d exiled her. He was an accomplice to her suffering.

  “Cecily!”

  He hit the back of the sofa and reached to shake her awake—only to bring up a fist full of blankets, with no Cecily beneath.

  “Callum, what? Is Zander okay?”

  He spun back to see Cecily standing in the doorway to Scott’s room, tugging the hem of her shirt into place—one of Scott’s shirts.

  His brain stuttered for a second, then dismissed the whole thing outright.

  Later.

  “No,” he said. “It’s the Shadow. The Shadow has Zander.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Callum fought to keep hold of Zander as she struggled. His arms locked under hers and with Scott holding her by the knees, they wrestled her down the hall as she thrashed and grunted. Cecily went ahead of them, reaching the back door and popping it open just in time to let them cross the threshold without missing a step. Then across the patio, into the grass, beyond the runes.

  “Let me go,” Zander whined.

  “Gladly,” Callum ground out as they lowered her onto the grass. “But you gotta open the cloak first.”

  “Hell no!” she spat at him.

  “And what the hell are you going to do when she opens it?” Scott challenged, his fingers locked around her ankles as he struggled to keep her feet on the grass.

  “We’re gonna hope Trey shows up and can work his spirit mojo,” Callum grunted as he held Zander still by cradling her back against his chest and locking an arm across her shoulders and his knees sinking into the dew-wet grass.

  “What if that doesn’t work?” Cecily countered.

  “I don’t fucking know,” Callum shot back. He leaned his weight to the left to counterbalance Zander’s attempt to roll away from him. “We’ll...think of something.”

  Honestly, he didn’t know what having her open the cloak was going to accomplish—she’d opened it before and he hadn’t seen a damn thing—but he was running short on ideas and this seemed like the best option they had at their disposal at the moment.

  It was hard to hear himself, let alone Cecily or Scott over the soundtrack of Zander’s continued objections as she twisted her body on the grass. The sound of Rhia’s low, menacing growl as she laid just feet away with her ears plastered back against her skull didn’t help either.

  “Now you notice!?” Callum sneered at her. Rhia couldn’t have figured out Zander was possessed earlier?

  She gave a single bark in response—almost like telling him to lay off.

  “Let me go!” Zander wailed, still struggling in his arms.

  “Open the veil!” Callum ground out through a clenched jaw. Not that it mattered—he’d figure out a way to rip that Shadow motherfucker out of the cloak one way or another. “Open. It.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Keep your voices down,” Scott admonished. “We have neighbors.”

  Zander let out a piercing scream.

  Before Callum could react, Cecily leapt forward. She reached over Callum’s shoulders and clasped her hands over Zander’s mouth.

  Then she laughed a fake but convincing laugh. “Stop joking around you guys. You’ll wake up the neighbors!”

  Callum felt his brows furrow in question, even as he struggled to keep Zander still.

  “To assuage the neighbors’ curiosity,” Cecily hissed.

  “Great. And if they look into the yard, they’ll just think we’re into some early morning kink,” Scott remarked.

  “Seriously?” Cecily’s tone was flat.

  “What? They don’t know you’re sisters,” he replied.

  “And they think you’re brothers,” she added.

  Callum stilled and looked to Scott—who looked right back, the expression on his face as ew-I-hadn’t-thought-of-that as Callum felt.

  “Ouch!” Cecily wrenched her hands away from Zander’s face and fell back onto the grass. “She bit me!”

  Scott’s expression was full of cynicism when his eyes landed on Callum. “This is not working.”

  With sinking clarity, Callum knew he was right.

  “Fuck.” Despair and frustration speared through his chest.

  They might be really and truly fucked.

  “Let’s get her back into the house.” Though what they were going to do then, he had no clue.

  Two minutes, a heel to the nose, and numerous cuss words later, Callum was holding the door to his bedroom closed while Zander banged against it and pulled at the knob.

  He was out of ideas.

  Like, blank slate, nothing-on-stand-by out of ideas.

  And he was starting to panic.

  This was way beyond him—way beyond anything he’d ever even heard of! He had no idea what he was doing and no way to save Zander from the Shadow that was, at this very moment, tormenting her. Even if all they could see was a pissed-off Zander cussing them out, Callum knew that underneath all of that, she was suffering. He knew because he’d suffered the same way when the Shadow had taken control of him last fall. And he knew every minute he left her there was a minute closer to the moment when the Shadow would win and they would lose her forever.

  “We gotta get her to open the cloak,” he groaned over the cacophony as he kept the door pulled shut. It was still the best idea he had. If they could get her to open the cloak and get Trey to work his magic, she’d be saved.

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  Right?

  “And how do you suggest we do that?” Scott asked as he came out of the bathroom dabbing the last evidence of his previously bloodied nose.

  Callum shook his head and breathed a heavy sigh. “No clue.”

  “What if we post to the blog?”

  Callum looked to Cecily and saw Scott do the same—at the same moment the Shadow pounded one of Zander’s fists against the bedroom door.

  “For help,” Cecily clarified. “What if we ask for input—

  Knock-knock-knock.

  What the fuck? Callum sneered. “Was that the front door?”

  “Who the hell—?” Suddenly Scott’s eyes were on Callum’s—at the same moment Callum knew exactly who was knocking at their goddamned front door.

  “Landlord!” they said together.

  “Holy shit, I totally forgot,” Scott hissed. Then he stopped. He looked up and Callum could see him formulating a plan.

  “Okay,” he said with calm determination. He ducked into the bathroom and reappeared without the wad of TP in his hand. “I got this. Callum, hold the door. Cecily, come with me and look tired.”

  “Uh, sure, yeah.” Cecily turned and followed him down the hall.

  “Callum! Open the damn door, you son of a bitch!” trilled Zander’s stolen voice.

  “Keep your fucking voice down,” Callum hissed through the door.

  “Fuck you! Let me out of this room!”

  He adjusted his grip on the knob and resecured his weight against the door. He tried to hear whatever the hell was going on out front, but couldn’t manage it over Zander. If Scott said he would handle it, he would han
dle it—he was good like that.

  Zander yanked at the knob and Callum leaned back, grasping tight to keep the door shut. At least she wasn’t screaming anymore.

  He was heavier than Zander by a good fifty pounds—okay, maybe forty—and he could hold his own in this little tug-of-war for a good long while, but not forever. They needed to figure out an actual solution here.

  Maybe what Cecily had started to say made sense. Maybe if they reached out to the people who read their blog they’d find someone who could help them.

  Or maybe if you’d ever taken the time to learn about this shit you wouldn’t need the help...

  He heard a sound from the other side of the door, a sort of soft thud on the wall, that distracted him from his self-loathing. When Zander’s voice came through the door again, it was quieter.

  “Cal, open the door. Please.”

  Not fucking likely. Still, hearing her say please nearly ripped his heart out—which was exactly why the Shadow had said it.

  “Are you even out there?” Her voice had more strength this time, more accusatory inflection—and it came from right beside the door. Was she leaning on the wall?

  “I’m here,” he said, voice low.

  “So are you just gonna leave me in here to rot?”

  “Yep, that’s the plan.” Of course that wasn’t the plan, but he didn’t know what else to say. Down the hall, he could hear Scott talking but he couldn’t tell what was being said. Had he gotten their landlord to leave? Or was the guy about to come walking down the hall?

  “I’ll scream.” Zander’s voice came through the door again. “I’ll keep screaming until the neighbors call the cops.”

  Nice try. “And I’ll show them your hospital discharge papers and explain that you’re having a psychotic break,” Callum shot back, voice low and exhausted—and with a sudden swell of anger that bled through his calm-and-collected mask. “Worst case scenario, they’ll take you to the hospital—but probably not. No, you’re stuck here with us, motherfucker.”

  The chuckle that came through the door was weak and low—barely Zander’s voice at all—followed by a scuffing noise that traveled down the wall.