I wake up to find myself regarding my reflection In the mirror. A suit. More expensive than anything I could ever afford. I try to move my arm, nothing happens.
"Hello darling" I blink. Right. Shit. The voice is mine, but the manner of speech...not at all. I… no He turns and dusts off my shoulder. "You look far better in a suit than I thought you would." Fuck off. "No really. Grey was a bust. Black and red, pinstripes, not my usual style, but it works for now." I mean...I looked good, but fuck off...and how long have I been out? "You're on vacation. You got given money by a friend." No. He wouldn't be that stupid. They could trace bank accounts. "Cash. Box. Buried in the ground. Not hard. Both you and I took precautions the night after we met." I sigh. I hoped that no one was worried. Worry meant they could get involved. I, he, turns in the mirror, then satisfied with what he sees puts the old clothes in a bag. Jeans, albeit expensive ones, and a dress shirt. He talks as he folds them, updating me; perhaps so I could help, perhaps to torment me.
Probably both.
"Sent your lover presents and a very well taken nude. You're fine." I don't send nudes. "You do now. Either way he isn't worried. He's too busy at a teacher conference." I, he walks away from the dressing room and goes to pay for the suit. As we pass rows and rows of clothes I feel sick. Crowley has control, has had control. What had he done while… "Nothing. Infuriatingly nothing. Hell it's been boring pretending to be you. Staying under the radar." If I could grin I would. I couldn't imagine it. The King of Hell, playing board games, painting, reading comics, playing video games, or sitting around watching tv.
"I played a lot of that phone game that involves walking around. Well, fake played, had to let god's little programs with wings see me. Now be a good little Chew Toy and be quiet."
I reach the counter and as I...he talks to the clerk I notice the change in speech patterns. He sounds like me. Apparently he'd adapted quickly. I watch the transaction. Cash. $500. I'd never pay for clothes that expensive unless it was full fucking plate armor. I go to shake my head to clear it. It doesn't happen. I try to look in the mirror we pass by, more closely at myself. He allows it.
I have a Bluetooth in my right ear. Gold jewelry. I hated gold. I hope he hadn't worn it at home regularly, my husband would know something was wrong. But my makeup is on point and my hair looks great. I breathe a sigh of relief he hadn't cut it. Well, figuratively I breathe a sigh of relief. I apparently can't do a damn thing unless he let me...or I somehow manage to wrest control.
"Oh don't worry. I saw that picture of you with a short cut. Now-" I ignore him, somehow, looking for anything to show the date. I could see what he saw. Taste. Smell. Experience everything despite the fact that I am trapped.
I am a prisoner that can rattle a cage. It is terrifying, yet relaxing in a sick way, to sit back and watch someone else live my life. Still. I needed info-.
"If you stop mentally bouncing around I'll tell you!"
I'm caught off guard. I wonder if he'd had to deal with my mental pathways and channels… memories. I push the thought away, trying to focus on the information I had. If there was a convention my husband was at, it was at least a couple weeks later. I think...
"Months. Try months." My body jerks, or missteps as I have a short burst of panic. Immediately he straightens and continues walking as if nothing happened. But inside... Pain wracks through my body again and I keep walking. "Try that again."
Accident, from shock. Not something I can really control.
"Try harder bitch."
I'm uncomfortable. I really want him to talk in his normal voice, normal mannerisms. This was weird. Hearing myself, my voice… the way he is talking… confuses me. I am getting nauseous trying to understand.
"Really darling, even more reason to. You'll need to get used to it quickly, it is very much, the least of your concerns." Of course, that was emphatically true. "Also, if you don't calm down, Right Now, and make the nausea go away, I'll-" What? Torture me? The nausea will just get worse.
"No. I'll barf and ruin my new suit!" I mean...also true. "Now. Questions? Comments? Or is the peanut gallery gonna shut the fuck up?" I cringe. I finally get why this was unnerving. He is talking in a warped combination of our styles of speech. In my voice. I didn't want to hear it, but… it was curious. Is it intentional? Is that the norm for right now and it took effort to be him, or me? Will that stop? Anyway, I think back to the last thing I remember, trying to orient myself.
"Very well. The pretty pigeon tried to read us. Thankfully, I just brought up your lovely suicidally depressive past and he took that as a reason for your sad, tainted, weird, grey soul. Idiot. Good thing I tortured you to add more layers to that scar. All that childhood grief came right back up easily." Great. Wonderful. Years of self work, meds, and therapy down the drain. At least my past trauma came in useful for once, for him. "Very."
We're walking down a street, sunny, very warm. Too warm for a suit, but the demon…
"Love it. Just like home." Seriously. Weird hearing my own voice. This mixed mannerism of talking. I wonder why it wasn't all me or all him. I can't stop focusing on it for some reason…
I get a jolt of pain.
"Puts a bit of pep in the step, doesn't it?" I doubt that is what it was for but I take the hint and abandon the question. I take in the surroundings. It's a city I don't recognize. But it's not on the East Coast... I think.
"Wrong. Chicago." What are we doing in Chicago?
"Trying to get my vessel back." I feel a twitch and look to the right. Homeless man. Hat held out, being shaken back and forth in front of a sign that says "anything helps." Crowley bends over and looks in. There are a bunch of coins but also three twenties. I...He smiles and slowly puts two $20 bills in there. I can see a white piece of paper in one. "Hope it gets better." The man nods, thanking us, Crowley, profusely and continues to shake the hat without looking in. Mixing all the money around.
Demon?
"Of course." He says as we continue to walk. I wonder about the danger of contacting them. "I can sense them...they can't sense me. I'm hiding in your soul like a girl behind the shower curtain. Everyone wants to take a peek, but you're a very opaque curtain. Even an angel won't see anything unless they get close, and it's still not a telling sign. Glad we terminated part .2 of our contract. Oh the places I could go." We continue walking as I wonder at the statement. I was hiding him...an added benefit. I wondered how many other benefits there were to his being in...or behind, or next to, my soul. Crowley ignores the curiosity for now and continues to explain the demonic interaction we just had. "He is not going to know where that note came from. Just that he somehow got orders from his king." They believe you're still alive? "New crop of demons, remember? All of them are the ones running things. The big things. And They don't want me to fail. They adore me. Half of them are role players who love playing a part and breaking it at just the right moment. So if I give them a script, they follow it. They adored me while they were alive, they adored me when I said I'd turn them into demons, they endured the wrack; and now they adore me because I fill their vices. They...love me." Wow. He worked fast with that, and he had finally gotten that 'love' he wanted. "Had to, and I always get what I want. Now...as much as it bothers me. I need to eat." I cringe. What would he eat? A person cooked into something? Something alive? But he turns and walks into a sushi restaurant. I'm surprised.
"Human body. Human soul. Human needs. Moving your body through your soul, like a puppet master, is difficult. Usually it's more direct, it's taken some getting used to." I wonder why he's explaining things to me...perhaps it amused him to watch me try to understand.
He sits and looks at the menu. He, I...we weren't very hungry. It was like it was numbed. "I've been working on that for weeks and weeks. Finally, I only have to eat once every two days. Gods it was annoying at first. Eating, drinking, and going to the bathroom. It took up so much time." I chuckle. Yeah. I felt the same way. I'd wanted to be a vampire for the longest time just so I didn't have to deal with those trivialities. I can't imagine this demon doing such inane activities. This is definitely not a normal possession.
"Excruciatingly so. I still have to eat every two days or I get nauseous. Why?" If I could laugh I would. So that's why he was explaining things. He wanted an answer and couldn't find it in me. I wasn't surprised. I often forgot that it happened and would get nauseous because I didn't eat.
"Very interesting. Answer the question."
It took me years to figure out, and there wasn't really a cure.
"You're sick, and I didn't know this...how?" Because nearly everyone had the disease, I just had an acute case.
"You are trying my patience."
I'm stressed.
"Of course you are, you're being ridden like a 2 bit whore."
No. I mean that's the cause. I'm tense. I'm stressed. Scared. Anxiety ridden. Twenty four hours a day, three hundred sixty five days a year. That eventually starts to mess with your body. I could laugh. He was moving my body through my soul, I was still there, I was still stressed. Even with my actual soul unconscious I was still stressed.
I mean it didn't surprise me, if anyone could be stressed while they were unconscious it would be me, but the fact that this demon had to deal with that? Well that amused me to no end. My stress finally had done something interesting for me.
I can feel Crowley fuming. That something so human could make him do anything. I wondered if he had been taking my medications. If he hadn't I wondered how fucked I'd be when he left. I wondered about the effects and intricacies of a human soul, versus the broken body, and the medication. Would I be stressed still if I left the thing I had to medicate so its neural pathways worked right?
I pause, and wonder how he is dealing with the emotions. Constant, full contact, with a human soul.
"You've been asleep. So, fine." I somehow feel that isn't completely true, but whatever.
We order, he orders. Two rolls. The most expensive. $30 dollars for two fucking rolls. He seems unconcerned. He eats.
Everything is very fishy, not my favorite, but apparently he liked it and I have no say. Silence reigns between us for a bit as I think, and he no doubt listens.
My game will be out for sale now. I hope the sales are doing well. Crowley doesn't give me an answer besides eating sushi and checking...my phone. Fuck. I hope he hadn't deleted my pictures.
He opens my email account. The first one at the top is a new email from a distributor. He opens it and it says they are not interested in distributing my game, but would be interested in doing so if they could manage all my past games, and new ones. Well, that was good news. He replies and says that 'I am thankful for the offer but need time to consider it.' Standard reply. He opens another email. From someone I don't know. An editor. For books.
The email says that the first draft for the first book was good, and to send in the first draft for the second book next week.
He had written...my books.
The phone clatters to the table as I, we struggle for air, choking on the sushi. Furious. Anger. Now panic. He coughs once, twice, and breath returns to our lungs. We gasp and wave to assure others we are fine. We breathe for a moment, both seething mad. He raises a hand to a passing waitress, inquires about the bathroom, and once there locks the door. An episode of terror and anger in less than a minute.
"You nearly killed me! Do NOT try that again, do NOT try to wrest control from me!" I fume. Those were my Books. Mine.
He slams his fist against the counter. "And I had nothing to do but act natural for months while the angels watched you! They only gave up two days ago! Two! The inanity I endured! Three meals. Going to work. Writing those books. While my body sits guarded by cherubs with guns! If I attacked while you were asleep, so far from my preferred meat suit...what they would have done to it… what would have happened if I..." He pauses, not wanting to give me any information on that...I could tell… somehow.
He stares at the mirror, my face unrecognizable with the anger he has painted on it. Our hands grip the sides of the sink, the enamel cracks slightly. He takes a breath and stands up. "They were almost done anyway." The books… Right… I mean yeah, but there were some bridges I needed to build between plot points and develop some- "I'm in your head! I know. We have more important matters to discuss. Your book series, a hard 7 on the list of important things right now, soft 6. For instance, surviving Lunch! Can you manage not to fucking choke me before I finish?" I mean. As long as there weren't any more revelations, probably. He pauses, and nods. "I suppose I can get them out of the way now." He snaps my fingers and a piece of paper appears in my hand. He had apparently gotten a hold of that trick while I was asleep.
We look at the paper, it's a map of a building, a hotel. Lines and dots and pathways all leading to a large red circle. "My meat suit. In a stasis spell. Guarded by angels who I am sure believe I will come for it. They are right, of course. But I'm not going in with an army. I'm going in as a lost human… an assassin. I'm going in as the king. Immortal. All the best parts of humanity." Best parts? The fact that he thought anything about us was good surprises me. He grins with my face and snaps again. A small flask appears in his hand out of the ether. He unscrews the top and I am immediately worried for some reason.
"Holy water, with a pinch of salt. Not the safest beverage I must say but...bottoms up darling." I tense for the pain, and it comes. Like drinking scalding tea. My stomach churns a bit as the liquid hits. It feels awful. Crowley however, is elated.
"That's all. No smoke, no burning. Burns even less now that you are awake. " He pours some out on my hand and I wince. It feels like lemon on an open cut. But he's right. No smoking. As long as we didn't react, no one would know.
"I even had a priest try to exorcise me." My, his, grin grows wider. "It didn't work. And the priest was delicious." Wait. What!? "Kidding darling. Probably. Either way, your soul is a shield. Where it counts...I'm human." He claps his, my hands, together and then dries them off. "Now. Important order of business. I'd like to finish my lunch."
We leave a $20 tip and head out.
"I'd like to get this over with tonight. But there is one thing I'd like to do first. Very important." We walk to a hotel...the hotel where his body is kept?
"Also…" he takes out a card key. "Our room." Wouldn't that be suspicious, me being in the hotel where your body is? "If they had continued watching me, I'm sure it would have been. I changed hotels two days ago." The door opens and we head to the bar. There is no one else here except the bartender. We twitch as we get near.
Demon? Angel?
"Darling. An angel could never be a bartender. They have to have people skills. Use your head Chew Toy. Oh...wait. You can't. It's mine." Dude. A rest with the taunts. Getting old and I don't care. "Yes, I had noticed you haven't really fought me for control here. You've practically given it up like a cheap whore." I don't really think it's worth wasting energy on. We're drawing from the same mana pool here. We are gonna need that later. "Knew you were a smart cookie." We reach the bar and we sit down. The bartender is burly...was burly. Now he's a demon. Either way he smiles at us and asks what we want.
"Margarita. Heavy on the salt." I see the demon frown for a half second before nodding and I watch him put on a pair of latex gloves. But seriously. That's why we are here? So you can get a last salt kick before you leave?
Crowley takes out my phone and places a call, to 666. I panic, worried about angels hearing it. Not knowing if this was part of a plan. But the call goes straight to 'cannot be reached'. Of course. It's been months. That phone's battery is dead. He holds the phone face down in his hands and taps the Bluetooth.
"Hello darling. Yes. I wanted a drink. I won't be able to have anymore soon so I'm enjoying it while I can." Holy Hell. A full conversation in plain sight, with a broken Bluetooth. That's what he's been doing the whole time...I just hadn't thought of it… thought the bluetooth might actually work… but no. It was in my book, my idea, broken bluetooth to have mental conversations in plain sight...if you weren't particularly skilled at keeping your mouth shut. Although I doubted that was the reason Crowley was doing it... "I told you, I was bored. I had the time. Months to read those books." Months. What about his family? "I told my friends to send a nice letter saying I was away working on a top secret show, it may run out of funding soon however. They even have voice recordings to send them if they get lonely." Jesus Christ. Did he actually care, or was he that prepared?
"Language! I don't want that kind of word bouncing around in my head." The drink comes and Crowley puts it on the room card. He toasts the bartender who smiles, taking off the latex gloves.
We take a sip. Fuck it's salty. It stings. "Lovely. Just the right amount." Why are we really here Crowley? I mean, there is no way this is just about a drink. And why are you being so forthcoming?
"All the information in the world doesn't matter if you can't act on it. Besides, we are rooting for the same team, always will be." Team Crowley. Wonderful. And we are here because? And you're talking out loud instead of thinking because?
"Give a girl a moment. I know you adore the sound of my voice but give me a second to take a drink." I seethe.
All this elaborate scheming because he knew I'd hate the sound of my voice melding and mixing with his mannerisms. Knew before I even woke up. "Love you." And there is nothing I can do. "Astute as ever. Now, I'm here waiting for a friend. They are supposed to call me after they finish a job. So here I am, enjoying your company till they show." He sips again. The salt burns. I can tell he likes it. Sadomasochist. "Really? This is a revelation to you? I'm surprised it took you this long." Just then the bartender's phone rings. He answers and immediately his face turns serious.
"The big guy? Really? Knew he'd be back, the story couldn't have ended that easily. Ok. Done before when? Shit. Ok. Send me the info and I'll get on it." He hangs up and begins to clean up the bar. "Sorry ma'am. I'm gonna need to ask you to finish up. I have a personal emergency I need to attend to." I smile, Crowley smiles. Fanboy demon. Holy Hell.
Crowley hands the bartender a $20 and downs the drink.
"Don't worry about it. I completely understand." With a wave we walk away. What the Hell just happened?
"That note. Instructions. We need to turn off that Christian radio and prep for the party. Can't have any of the employees leaving before the surprise." Ah. Warding. But why? If we, you, are an assassin, then they will never see us. Ideally.
"Never take a chance when you can stack the deck. Also, to quote a singer whose career was actually on her own merit, girls just wanna have fun. I'm very overdue to paint the town red. It's been two months. A girl has Needs darling." I cringe at the word, at its odd sound in my mouth. He somehow, even in my voice, made it sound like him. I push the thought away. So you were lying about the priest? You didn't kill him? Eat him?
"I'll never tell." By this time we arrive at the hotel room. We open it and Crowley double locks it behind us. I take in the room as Crowley sets aside the bag of clothes. It is as immaculate as he has made me. I'm sure the bed has never been slept in. When was the last time I...this body slept?
"Three days ago. I'm quite excited to see what will happen when I leave your body. There is no clause in our contract about the deal breaking if you die from me leaving." He smirks. "I'm sure the cause of death will be from your empty heart." I roll my nonexistent eyes as he turns to the bed and pulls a suitcase out from under it. Setting it on top, he opens it to reveal, nothing of interest. Files, some makeup...I chuckle at the thought of him putting it on himself.
"So quick to judge by looks." He pulls up the back inner lining and there in the center, encircled by many runes, shines a very familiar blade. He takes it out and does a few practice jabs. They feel powerful.
"Of course they do. You're rooming with the King of Hell. Has some perks." Yeah. That I don't get to enjoy. "Oh well." He holds the blade and tests it's top. Sharp as ever. "Now. When we reach my body I might need you to scratch away a demon trap. Depending on how things turn out. Just take the blade and scratch." I know. Not that hard. "It shouldn't be, but I've had people mess that up." He sets the blade down and smiles. "Time for the final pieces." He opens a dresser drawer and inside are ties. Black.
He stands in front of the mirror and puts on the tie. It had been at least a decade since I wore one. Once satisfied with the outcome he begins to work on my hair. A pony tail. No chance of it being in my face. I snicker.
"What? You find it funny that I know how to do this? Darling. I've been inside many women, in more than one way." He then places the blade under the bed inside the suitcase, but outside the runes. He opens the bedside drawer and retrieves a gun, complete with a waist holster.
"I got you a license while you were gone. Open carry and everything. Took your hubby to the shooting range. Had a grand time, had a better evening."
Ok. Not. Cool.
We twitch, dropping the holster. He curses, I scream. I scream as loud as I can in our head. I had been agreeable, mostly, and had stated my intentions not to fight him.
He really doesn't expect the attack. He could literally feel all my emotions and hear any plot I made. One advantage of having ADHD; I often forget to think before I act. Normally a bad thing. Here? A great advantage. I didn't know the plan until I started enacting it. He is quite startled. And because he is startled…
He doesn't have control.
(Looks down at reader. 'Back hanging on that cliff, are you?')
