“You taught me cruelty and neglect.” Her soft reply barely crossed the minute space between them.
“I showed you how to survive.” He pinned her against the chest of drawers with his hips. “Now, no one can hurt you.”
“Except you.”
“That's right.” The darkness in his eyes flared. “Don't you forget that.”
Lara's cell phone rang, vibrating on the nightstand. Milo's gaze flicked to the phone. The corner of his mouth pulled.
“Perfect timing.” He floated backward, releasing Lara. “Why don't you tell James the good news?”
“He's about to die?” Lara glowered.
“That he's going to spend the rest of his life with you.” Milo laughed and floated through the ceiling; crashes emanated from the attic.
Lara grasped the cell phone and hesitated, staring at the screen. On the final ring, she answered, forcing words through her mouth in rapid staccato. “Good morning, James. I'm so glad you called me. I was thinking about what you asked last night, and I'd love to marry you. Why don't you come over right now, so we can celebrate?”
The phone was silent. Lara swallowed. Did James suspect something?
“James?”
“I'm here,” he replied. “Or rather I'll be there in a half hour.”
“That's wonderful!” She grimaced; her voice sounded too bright.
“Is everything okay?” James asked, his worry bleeding through the phone. “You sound a little keyed up.”
“I'm just excited to call my parents and tell them the good news. They're going to love you so much more than my previous husband.”
Pain shot through her scalp.
“Ow!” she hissed, and turned, scowling at Milo's translucent form. Her hand covered the phone's speaker. “I told him I was a widow.”
“You know why I did that.” Milo pulsated, his outline oscillating between solid and ghostly. “Your parents loved me, they cried at my funeral.”
“They were faking it,” she shot back, digging at a crack in Milo's arrogance. “They wished I'd never married you.”
“Lies!” Milo flickered and vanished.
“Lara?” James' voice came through the receiver. “Are you there?”
She lifted the phone to her ear, removing her hand from the speaker. “Yes. It must be a bad connection.”
“Of course.”
Poor James, he was so trusting.
“I'm working in the attic, just let yourself in and come find me, Husband.” She felt James glow through the phone.
“I’ll see you in a bit, Wife.”
Lara sighed and set down the phone. She returned to the dresser, wrenched open the top drawer, and yanked out a tank top and a pair of cotton shorts.
“Might as well be comfortable while committing murder.”
“It's not murder,” Milo's muffled voice replied from the attic.
“What would you call it?” she yelled back, quickly changing before Milo could stick his head through the floor. He didn't reply.
“Milo?” She poked her head into the hallway. Nothing. She took another hesitant step and discovered the attic ladder had been extended to the hardwood floor.
She climbed the ladder, stopping when her torso was halfway into the attic. Her gaze slid across the empty room. Stacked cardboard boxes, arranged in a half-circle around the window, hid the magical symbol drawn on the floor in blood, Lara's blood.
“This isn't funny, Milo.”
“Did you think I died?” Milo appeared in front of her, his face even with hers. With a scream Lara fell back. Her arms slammed down on both sides of the opening, preventing her from falling to the second floor. Her legs swung madly as she struggled to catch one of the ladder rungs with her foot.
“If you kill me, how will you find more victims?” She grunted and hauled herself through the hole, collapsing on the attic floor.
“Why are you so certain James won't survive the possession?” Milo crouched beside Lara.
“He's too nice.”
“Then, his death will be your fault. You should have found someone less weak.”
“I can't just make people fall in love with me!” She pushed herself into a sitting position. “If you want better candidates, find them yourself.”
“No, no, no.” Milo clucked his tongue. “If you want to be free of your burden, you must find them.”
The front door slammed. Milo glanced down the ladder, a ghastly smile carved across his face. “My body is here.”
“Lara?” James called, not a trace of fear in his voice.
Would he scream, as Tyler had, or go into shock like Max, his body convulsing on the floor? Lara closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, then called down to James.
“Come up the stairs to the second floor, there's a ladder that reaches the attic.”
A few minutes later James' cropped sandy-blond head appeared. His head turned, searching for her. When he found her standing beside one of the box stacks, elation shown on his face.
“What are you doing up here?” He crossed the room, taking her hands in his. His thumb slid across her finger. He glanced down with a frown. “Where's your ring?”
“There's something I want to talk to you about.” She pulled him around the boxes, dragging him into the center of the faint, rust-brown symbol.
“You're not backing out, are you?”
“No.” Lara licked her lips. “James, I've done something terrible.”
“What could someone as sweet as you have done?” He squeezed her hands in a comforting gesture and leaned forward.
Pulling back, Lara sank her teeth into her lower lip. “I’m deeply sorry... I'd like you to meet my ex-husband, Milo.”
As James spun around, she yanked her hands free of his grasp and stepped out of the circle. Milo appeared in front of James; his ghostly outline shimmered bright blue, igniting the symbol on the floor, which glowed the same color. With a snarl, Milo flew toward James, and smashed into his chest. Too late, James flung up his hands, a scream ripped from his throat, then his lifeless body dropped to the floor.
Lara rushed forward and fell to her knees; her hands hovered over James. Had it worked?
A groan came from James' body. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. They glowed black. His chest expanded and deflated in slow measured attempts at breathing.
“I forgot how good that feels.” James' voice had taken on a gravelly tone, akin to Milo's timbre. He sat up, and trailed his hands over his arms, inspecting himself. “Not quite as muscular as I hoped, but I can work with it.”
“Milo?” She reached out; her fingertips brushed over his rigid jaw. It wasn't really his face, but a hybrid version of his and James'.
His hand closed around hers, squeezing until she yelped and pulled away from him. Rising like a stiff marionette, he stumbled sideway, and flung an arm out, steadying himself against the wall. Turning his head, he locked his unsettling jet-black eyes on Lara, a grin lifted the corner of his mouth into a smirk.
“In the flesh,” he said. His face purpled, and his left hand flew to his throat, and the fingers wrapped around his neck, compressing his windpipe.