Chapter 11

Joanie was humming under her breath as she set up the alter, lighting each black candle slowly; the tiny flames casting a dim, small glow over the centerpiece. The centerpiece was simply a black bowl made out of stone; for the moment it stood empty.

She slowly turned around, her bare feet making no sound on the black marbled floor and smiled down at the slowly coming too Daija. "You poor thing, you fell asleep." She cooed, kneeling down besides the other woman and began stroking her now pure white hair lovingly. "You're so tired, Daija, aren't you? It'll pass though, I promise."

"Wha- why?" Daija croaked, her throat feeling like it was on fire.

"Why? Now that's a silly question." Joanie scolded, carefully pulling Daija into a sitting position; her pale face composed peacefully. "I don't know if I can answer that really, you'd have to ask Him. He sent for you, you know." Now she sounded wistful. "When Shawn was looking for a home, he 'accidentally' stumbled across the listing for this place. Coleman was so surprised when he got the call, he'd never actually listed Morle Manor on the internet, I did. I did because He told me too."

"You're insane."

"Hush now Daija, don't say mean things to me. I'm your friend, I've always been your friend." Joanie scolded, placing a finger against Daija's cracked and bleeding lips; her forehead scrunching as she frowned. "He needed a woman who had just known loss." Her hand moved to gently pat Daija's stomach. "You were perfect, and then you fell in love with the house, that was perfect too. He really loves this house, and you've restored it beautifully. He fed your mind and heart how the house should look and you did it!" She looked awed and happy, positively beaming. "Such a lovely job you did too."

Daija was slowly becoming more aware of her surroundings, how Joanie was now in just a black cotton nightgown, so was she as a matter of fact. It felt light and cool against her skin, she liked the feeling. "Where's Shawn?"

Joanie hesitated, glancing behind Daija's head. "Now Daij, don't be mad, okay? I know you love Shawn but honestly, this is for the best. You can't be with Him and Shawn at the same time, it just isn't fair."

"WHERE IS SHAWN?"

Scowling, Joanie scrambled to her feet; her eyes flashing. "Don't yell at me! Can't you see I'm doing this for you? If He wanted ME I would be so honored, but it's you He wants so I'm going to help you! Shawn will be out of your life and then you'll be free, isn't that what you want? To be with Him?"

This with Him stuff was confusing; but then it dawned on her who Joanie kept referring too. "Mark?"

"Yes, Him." Joanie nodded, looking insanely happy again. "You did promise you'd help him." She reminded as an afterthought. "And you even sealed the pact."

Daija would have blushed if she could; now aware that the green mist was enveloping her. "Where's Shawn?" She demanded again.

Joanie pointed behind her.

Slowly, Daija turned on the floor; gasping when she seen her husband. He was shackled to the far wall; his head hanging down so his chin was resting against his chest. "Shawn!" She began crawling towards him.

Shaking her head, Joanie got up; extending her arms out as if in welcome. "It's time."

But Daija wasn't paying any attention to her anymore, she was more focused on using Shawn's jeans to pull herself upright. "Shawn, baby..." She managed to clasp her hands around his neck; feeling her legs trembling violently under her, threatening to give way at any moment. "Please, wake up..."

"Daija."

She tensed at that voice, that deep; dark baritone she knew so well, only now it... it was so clear, so real and not just some voice in a fog. She was afraid to turn around, afraid to see whatever unnatural means this ghost, this spirit, had used to make himself earthly.

But she was compelled to turn anyway, gasping at the atrocity that meant her eyes.

It was Joanie's body but it wasn't Joanie possessing it, it was Mark.

Joanie's hazel eyes were now his venomous green, staring at Daija hungrily. "My body is long gone, there's no way to reclaim it." He said, raising Joanie's arm and stared at the blood red painted fingernails, wiggling them with an expression of disgust. "But I can... share another's body, like Joanie's, if she allows it."

Daija could only stare at him in abject fascination, mingled with horror.

"But I don't want a woman's body." He/she continued calmly, the oh so very masculine voice coming out of the lipsticked mouth. "I want to be a man, not this corporeal spirit form I now possess."

The words had an implied meaning and she grasped it immediately. "No! You can't have him!"

Joanie's mouth formed a very un-Joanie like smirk, cold and cruel. "You said you'd help me, Daija. Remember?"

The words were like a caress, her eyes closing as she fought off the memories. "I didn't know what I was sayin', look what you did to me!"

"All temporary, I just needed enough of your... essence... to allow me this." He/she gestured to his/her body, scowling. "Just enough to enable me to do what needs to be done."

She was still shaking her head no.

Ignoring her, Joanie or Mark, whoever It was, walked to the alter and stared down at it. "Science and the occult, they've always gone hand in hand." It said thoughtfully. "I only got into my... practice... because I needed fresh... samples."

"The babies."

It snorted. "They were nothing more than masses of tissue, unwanted ones at that. But I wanted them, I NEEDED them. Scientists have always experimented on humans, trying to prolong life spans, or make superhumans. I was looking for a way to come back. And I managed it, by mixing them, science and what you would, I suppose... call 'magic'."

When Daija looked towards It again, she seen Joanie's hands adding something to the bowl on the alter, a soft 'splash' telling her that whatever it was had mass, she felt like throwing up; the stench of formaldehyde piercing her senses.

The green fog was climbing her body again; snapping her out of the stupor she had been sinking into. She realized with a start that It was approaching her, the bowl in it's hands; steam rising from the bowl.

"No, you can't have him." She rasped, trying to let go of Shawn in order to defend him but she couldn't move her fingers, it hurt too badly to unflex them, an almost arthritic pain. With yet another start, Daija realized she was steadily growing... older, by the minute.

"Daija, I need him. You and I, we can be together, and it'll still be your husband's body. It won't be bad, I promise you." It was saying, the voice coming in soft and then loud, like a bad radio station. "And in a few moments, you'll have your youth back again, I won't need it anymore, I won't need it to be the adhesive that binds me to Joanie's body."

"Daija! Daija!"

Daija's rheumy eyes slowly moved towards the stone door, unable to see more than a few feet away.

She heard crashing, a curse and something else... it was too hard to make out.

She was so tired... so drained...