Valak stares down at the body, still warm, soulless and empty. The soul has departed only moments before, and honestly Valak doesn't really care where it's gone.
He smiles; the body will suit him well enough.
So he steps into it, makes it home, makes it his. A suitable vessel while he works his way back up the ranks. He's been demoted before, it's only a matter of time before he will rise again and all who deserted his legion will know his wrath.
Small steps, he thinks, settling in and allowing his energy to suffuse through the skin, halting the decay and bringing that spark of life back into it.
He can't have a decaying vessel, best to fix that now.
He combs through the memories that remain; he'll need to know this body's mannerisms, its emotions.
Ah, he thinks, mere seconds after assimilating, there we are.
Varick Vorster, 25 years old, former cultist turned antique-shop owner, Romanian, was kicked out by an abusive father, immigrated to the States at 18, has been dating a woman named Maria for the past 3 years.
Oh, Valak sighs, he was going to propose, how sickeningly sweet of him. Too bad he'll never get the chance.
And killed by a weakened heart. Such a pity.
Valak can hear the sound of a key in the door of the shop.
It would be Maria, he knows. Varick had been expecting her to arrive earlier than usual, and had been preparing to make his proposal that morning before his heart had given out.
He's lying behind the counter, just out of sight of the door.
Valak twitches a finger, getting used to inhabiting a physical form again. Well, he thinks, time for the long con. He needs new members for his legion anyways.
"Babe?" Maria calls into the shop, frowning as she notes the dim lights. "Varick, love, are you here?"
Silence is her only answer, the door clinking shut behind her.
"That's unusual," Maria mutters, tucking her key into her pocket and striding across the room to check the register.
She screams, stumbling back a few paces, before scrambling for the phone.
Her boyfriend is as pale as death, blood pooling on the floor beneath his head, eyes closed, lying just behind the counter. His chest barely rising and falling, breathing shallow.
Maria calls for an ambulance, praying to any deity that will listen to not let her love slip away, to keep him here with her.
The ride to the hospital is nerve-wracking as she clutches his cold, cold hand, feeling his pulse flutter weakly against her fingers.
God, she cannot lose him. It would break her.
At the hospital, she waits outside the room, pacing back and forth until she gives up and collapses into a nearby chair, sobbing into her hands.
Please, God, don't let him die, she begs, please.
No sign comes to her, no sacred communion that her mother had always spoken about with reverence in church. Maria has never felt such Divine Presence in her life. Her mother, a devout Catholic to her core, claimed to feel the Presence in church during every Mass.
Maria just cries, and waits, feeling despair sinking ever deeper into her bones as the hours slip by and no one comes to tell her anything.
"Miss Piras?" a voice says at her left, nearly four hours after she's arrived.
"Yes?" Maria asks, rubbing at her eyes, sniffling.
"Your boyfriend is going to be fine," a plump woman with graying blonde hair says, her name tag reads Dr. Lola and her eyes are kind. "He has a minor head injury but as far as we can tell there is no brain trauma. He just needs rest and proper nutrients. His collapse was probably due to dehydration and stress."
"He's going to be okay?" Maria asks, fixating on the idea.
"Yes, miss," the doctor says. "Rest and relaxation for at least two weeks, nothing strenuous."
"Okay," Maria says faintly, pressing a hand to her mouth, trying not to cry again. "Can I-can I see him?"
"Yes," Dr. Lola says. "Right this way."
She leads Maria into the room, where Varick lies, fast asleep, the heart monitor beeping steady reassurance at her, IV's hanging to his left.
There's a chair at the bedside but Maria ignores it to lean over the bed, brushing back Varick's dark curls, her tears blurring the sight of his face, softened in sleep.
"Oh thank God," she says quietly, sniffling again. "Thank you."
She is hardly aware of the doctor leaving, the door closing and Maria is alone with Varick.
Maria carefully climbs up onto the bed, lying beside him, the railing of the bed pressed hard into her spine. She can't just sit in that chair. She needs to see, needs to be closer.
Varick sleeps on, though his eyelids twitch as he dreams.
Maria listens to him breath. Deep, steady breaths, so unlike the terrifying shallow gasps that still haunted her mind.
"Hey, V," she whispers, "you really scared me today. I don't want to lose you like that again, okay?" she kisses his cheek. "I'll be right here, love."
Varick mumbles something, turning his head towards her. Maria rests her forehead against his.
His eyelids flutter, the faintest gleam of chartreuse barely visible through his long lashes. Maria has always said he should have been a model, which his long lashes and elegant features, but Varick had never agreed, wanting to live a quiet life away from any kind of spotlight.
"Hey," Maria says quietly, "how are you feeling?"
Varick blinks slowly, and his voice comes, raspy to her ears, but welcome. "Ce s-a întâmplat?"
Maria strokes one hand down his cheek. "Babe, you know I know very little Romanian. You were in the shop this morning, do you remember?"
He frowns. "I-remember...I was...you were coming in early," he says.
Maria nods. "I found you behind the counter," she chokes on the words, remembering how still and pale he looked.
"Oh," Varick says, looking away, biting his lips.
"Babe," Maria murmurs, gently turning his face towards hers, "I'm glad you're alive," she whispers, tears sliding down her face again. "I'm so glad you're here with me. I couldn't bear to lose you."
"You won't," Varick promises, and Maria kisses him, soft and gentle, and trying to tell him just how much she loves him without words.
He smiles up at her, eyes warm and fond.
Some knot of tension relaxes in her chest at the sight of that familiar grin, relief flooding her. He is alive and he's going to be just fine.
They're going to be just fine.