Chapter 9

 

I stood on one of the balconies at S.O.S. headquarters this afternoon, my eyes on the vineyard just beyond the property, and I made my decision. I don't want to leave Italy. I don't want to leave Dayton and Conor when things are just beginning to come together for them, but my powers are overwhelming me. I am having strange visions. Sometimes, I see myself doing bad things in them. Have I become so connected to Demons that their evil is corrupting me? Or are the visions of the future?

 

~Monroe's Totally Wicked Book of Shadows~

 

 

 

I fell limp in Luther's arms, my head spinning. Possessed.

"You asshole," I breathed.

He chuckled. "Tsk, tsk, Witch. If you're anything like your friend Dayton, then possessing you is going to make my job a whole lot easier."

I grit my teeth. "You really think so?" I asked.

"I'm banking on it."

I looked up at him. "Stay out of my head, Luther Craig."

His eyes met mine, and the twinkle in their depths was obvious. "Which part? Your childhood, the present, or your thoughts?"

I struggled in his arms.

"You don't think I'd let you go?" Luther asked. "Try me."

I still struggled. "How dare you! My thoughts, my head, are mine. Mine! Everyone should have that. No one should lose their free will, you understand me?" I took a deep breath. "Is that what the stupid tattoo is for? For possession?"

Luther chuckled. "The tattoo is gone, Monroe. You'd know that if you had looked for it in the mirror earlier. It wasn't even necessary and has nothing to do with possession."

I fumed. It was for what then? Fun?

"You have one twisted sense of humor!" I exclaimed, kicking him firmly in the shin with my heel.

Luther didn't seem the least bit fazed. I stopped struggling. We were attracting attention. I could see Lucas holding Bernice in front of us, and Belle was beside them, her body surrounded by a blue glow. Somewhere during the struggle, Luther and I had fallen back.

"Everything okay?" Lucas asked.

The Angel's eyes met mine, and I looked away. "I'm fine," I answered.

There was silence, and I could feel Luther's chin resting on my shoulder, his breath against the sensitive skin just below my ear.

"The Angel doesn't know?" I whispered.

"Funny isn't it?" Luther asked, his amusement obvious. "I've learned to hide a lot of things over the years."

I inhaled slowly. "I'm not Dayton."

Luther's hair tickled my cheek. I tried to ignore how intimate it felt, but couldn't.

"No," he conceded. "You're not."

I swallowed hard. I wanted to imagine myself somewhere else, but no matter how vivid my imagination, nothing could compare to being here right now.

"Nice to know you think so," Luther murmured.

I cursed him in my head, and he laughed.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "Do you fear being out of control?"

"Not as much as you do," Luther answered.

I tensed because I knew he was right. I was a control freak and obsessive compulsive. It was the reason why I carried dozens of those little bottles of hand sanitizer and a really thick day planner.

"It's my mind," I finally stated.

Luther lifted his head. "For now, it's ours. I'm strong, Monroe. I'm not saying that to be arrogant, I'm saying it because it's true. If anyone can take a stand against Lucifer, it's the sons and daughters of Cain and Lilith. It's why Marcas sent me. If you think I'm bad, you don't want to be controlled by the worst Demon of us all."

I glanced up at him. "Are you saying if you didn't possess me, then Lucifer would? You're wrong. I could make an amulet."

Luther grew quiet and then, "You can't make one now after the power swap spell, and I won't give up the one you gave me. In the long run, it's safer for me to wear the amulet while I possess you."

I didn't say anything else. He was right. I hated it, but there it was. In the past, I'd seen the amulet protect Luther from being possessed by Lucifer. He needed it more than I did right now because he was stronger than me.

"You can't be all bad, Luther," I said.

His head lowered again. Something about the Demon touched my heart. I'm not sure why. I didn't know him at all. All I knew about him was his parentage, his brother, and a kiss he'd given me once.

"I have never pretended to be," Luther said. "But I also don't pretend to be something I'm not. Sometimes being bad is better. It makes it easier to slay the monsters."

Some things can be said about being held close by a person when you barely know them. For one, it forces you to ask questions you never would have asked before, to make conversation when it might be better to remain silent.

"I don't think of myself as cursed," I said quietly. Luther tensed, but I didn't give him a chance to speak. "I've known for a little while now that I am connected somehow to Hell and to Demons. It scared me. I had even quit sleeping at night, as if the dark somehow made things worse, but there is also something I've learned from it."

"You realize," Luther interrupted, "that you don't have to say anything. I already know what you're thinking."

I snorted. "You do realize that saying things out loud makes them more real than thinking them, right?"

Luther remained silent, and I laughed. "You do realize it, don't you? Ha! That's why you don't want me to talk. Fine, so I'm a control freak, but you fear what exactly? Reality?"

He didn't answer, and I laid my head back on his shoulder so that I could look up into his face. His lips were tight, his skin pale in the darkness. It was an illusion. Luther had olive skin.

"I've learned," I continued, "that being damned is the saddest, most loneliest feeling in the world. I think the pain I feel from Demons like you isn't anger, it's fear. It's a constant search for something real. Freedom from pain, death, and persecution."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Luther huffed.

I snorted again. "Don't I?"

His eyes moved down to mine, and our gazes caught.

"I told you before I'm not Dayton," I said. "And you, Luther, are no Marcas. You let yourself feel more than he does. Quit pretending you don't."

"You need a restraining order on your mouth," Luther growled.

I smiled. "Why? You're already in my head, right? You're the one who removed the barriers, Demon. There are no holds barred now."

He looked away from me, his eyes moving to the sky above. The wind blew my hair against my face, the chill refreshing. It was January, and where ever we were, it wasn't Louisiana anymore. It was too cold.

Luther's arms wrapped themselves more securely around me, his body shielding mine from the elements. His skin heated, and I grew drowsy. This day had been too long, and full of too many revelations. I was a cursed witch wanted by Lucifer, and Bernice was a cursed witch who was a natural magical beacon for Hunters, a witch's most fearsome enemy.

I shouldn't want to sleep, and yet here I was in Luther's arms, the cold wind brushing my cheeks and tangling my hair, and that's exactly what I did.