Lincoln had his petulant fit. Despite Lincoln having no awareness of something else residing within his body, Malachi remained aware, even if he couldn’t react.
“I thought a little exercise might do me good,” Malachi said.
“You’ll have time enough to exercise when you’ve regained your strength.”
Malachi chuckled to himself. He’d never felt stronger. He flexed both Lincoln’s hand and his own black, scaly appendage that protruded from the stump of Lincoln’s shoulder. It looked strange seeing only his wraithlike arm, while the rest of him resided with the skin of a human, combining with muscles and corpuscles, synapse and nerves.
“Come along, get back to bed,” the nurse said.
Malachi stared at her brown eyes; wondered what they would taste like if he crunched through the retina, how sweet the vitreous humour as it dribbled down his throat. He salivated at the thought.
He glanced along the corridor, saw no one looking their way, and then motioned to the nurse.
She frowned. “What is it?”
“I need to show you something.” He pointed towards a storeroom door; could tell that she felt a little afraid in his presence as she held her ground, eyeing him suspiciously.
“What’s in there?”
“I’ll show you.” When the nurse didn’t move, he decided to play on her sensibilities. “I think he’s in trouble.”
“Who?”
“The boy in the storeroom.”
The nurse’s expression turned to one of concern and she stepped forwards and opened the storeroom door. As she stepped into the room, Malachi followed her inside.
“Where is he?”
Malachi grabbed her around the throat. The nurse struggled and kicked, Malachi maintained his hold, the stink of hairspray thick in his throat as he held her tight, his own superhuman strength combining with that of Lincoln’s enhanced physique. As he strangled her, he chanted ancient words, words that resounded with power. Even as he spoke them, he felt the air around him crackle, alive with the tongues of the ancient ones. His body felt like a tuning fork, its pitch giving darkness physical form.
As the nurse’s spirit fled, she slumped forwards. Her body went rigid, then her eyes snapped open and she sucked a breath, drawing oxygen back into her lungs.
Malachi released his grip and stepped back, allowing the nurse to stand. She cocked her head to the side, drew her shoulders back as though to relieve tired muscles, and then held her hands up to inspect them. She smiled.
“It’s good to be back,” she said with a wicked grin.
Although exhausted by the effort of transferring its brethren to the human host, the demon smiled. “Good doesn’t come close, Bethena.”
Malachi suddenly slumped, his power dwindling after the toll of performing the possession, allowing Lincoln’s consciousness to rise to the fore.
Malachi cringed – to think he was at the beck and call of a snivelling human.
Lincoln felt as though he had just woken from a deep sleep. He yawned and stared at the nurse in bewilderment; saw the wicked red mark around her throat. “Sorry, were you talking to me?” He glanced around the room. “And where are we? How did I get here?” He guessed it was a storeroom, the clean towels and sheets of which were stacked on shelves. The smell of washing powder tainted the air. The small confines of the room made him feel giddy, the walls appearing to close in, and he felt his pulse quicken.
The nurse glared at Lincoln with what he could only describe as malice.
“Malachi? Can you hear me?”
Lincoln frowned, turned and looked behind him to see who she was speaking to.
Seeing no one, he turned back to the nurse to see her staring at him, as though waiting for something to happen. “What?” Lincoln asked. He felt a chill slide down his spine and beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he fought to catch his breath. Pretending exasperation at the nurse’s lack of response, he turned, walked out of the room and headed back to his ward, trying to remain calm and not run.
He didn’t have a clue what was happening, or how he had found himself in the storeroom. Had he started sleepwalking?
The thought made him shudder. As if losing an arm wasn’t enough.
CHAPTER 7
Joanna stared at herself in the mirror. Black hair dishevelled after a sleepless night and her transplanted eye puffy, she looked a mess, but felt even worse.
As she stepped away from the mirror, her mobile phone rang and she crossed the room and picked it up. She squinted to read the name on the display. It was her mum.
“Hi,” she said.
“When are you going to come down to see us? You know how long it’s been?”
Joanna rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think I’ve got enough problems with my eyes?”
“I thought they were alright now.”
Joanna read between the lines. Her mum wasn’t the sort to enquire how she was. She circumvented the question, hoping that Joanna would fill in the blanks.
“Well my sight still isn’t right, and I’m not up to a long journey. You could always visit me.” She knew it wasn’t going to happen. Her mum had agoraphobia; hadn’t left the house for over six years, and relied on photographs of special events, such as Joanna’s graduation, to make her believe she was a part of it.
“You know I would…”
Joanna sighed. “I’ll come down as soon as I feel up to it. Promise.”
“Well don’t leave it too long. I miss seeing you.”
“Yes, I miss you too, mum.”
She spent the next fifteen minutes catching up with all the gossip that her mum gleaned from Joanna’s father, then she finished the call.
Just as she put her mobile down on the table, it rang again.
“Morning. I didn’t wake you, did I?” Stephen asked.
“No, I’ve been up a while. Mum rang so I’ve been chatting to her. What’s up?”
“I just thought I’d put your mind at rest. I went to the ward where Lincoln is and spoke to the staff nurse, and she said Lincoln hadn’t been anywhere yesterday.”
The mention of the man’s name made her stiffen. “And that’s supposed to put my mind at rest! How can they be sure?”
“Because he was sedated.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means he was unconscious.”
Joanna exhaled slowly. “So I’m going mad then?”
“Of course not. You’re just, I don’t know, upset still.”
“Ah, the psychoanalysis again.”
“Look, Jo, if you feel there’s something wrong, make another appointment with the doctor. It’ll probably put your mind at rest if you just talk to him.”
“I dunno.”
“You’ve never met my aunt Vera. Now
You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen what I have, she thought.
