Her gaze suddenly flashed up as she stared at his back. In a whisper that could not carry, she muttered, “No, my Max McCane, it is you. The magic controls you, and you can’t even see it.”
Mary’s gaze locked on the knife in the basket, the hilt just visible.
Pick it up, woman, come on. I begged her. But she couldn’t hear me, and there wasn’t a thing I could do as Max whirled on his foot.
Mary had been crouching down, reaching towards the basket, but Max reached her, looped an arm around her middle and looked into her eyes.
She stiffened.
“This talk of loyalty – I can’t remove it from my mind. So tell me, my beloved seer, what tomorrow brings. Those in the village devoid of the magical arts predict attack – retribution for the village I took last week. Are they right?” Max stared at her, his gaze hot and yet cold, swinging between passion and hatred in the blink of an eye.
I felt Mary’s cheeks tighten, felt her throat constrict.
Max pressed further against her until his breath beat against her cheek. “Are they right? Look into the future, my beloved seer, and tell me what to do next.”
I felt her eyes dart from left-to-right as she stared at his face. I felt the breath well in her chest, become stuck in her throat.
And then I felt it. I felt it as something descended through her – dread.
For Mary McLane came to a decision. “No,” she whispered, her breath brushing against a few loose strands of her crinkly red hair and sending it scattering across his neck. “No, there will be no attack.”
“Are you sure, my beloved seer?”
“… Yes, my Max McCane, for I’ve seen the future.”
The longer I inhabited Mary’s body, the more I was drawn into this scene, and the tenser this scene became, the more I forgot the distinction between Mary and me.
I wanted to reach out, kick him, lurch to the floor, pluck up the knife, and defend Mary. I wanted to drive this shadow back.
And the more I held onto that burning desire, the more effect it had. I started to feel Mary’s fingers, feel the crinkle of her skin, feel the brush of Max’s shirt.
Everything, every damn minute detail.
Until finally, finally, I started to push through.
I took a breath, and it was mine.
“Well, if you’re sure, Mary, then so be it. I’ll trust you, for my heart can do nothing else.” Every word was strong, too strong for a man apparently proclaiming his love. And the look in his eyes? It curdled my stomach.
This was the monster – the shadow who inhabited Max and stole his memories, who kept pushing me to lose my powers. And it all started here with Mary.
Though I was beginning to break through whatever spell stopped me from using Mary’s body, I wasn’t quick enough.
I needed to move now. Needed to reach for the knife and do what Mary couldn’t.
Max pulled away, locked a hand on his chin, and shifted back. He surveyed Mary with a darting, calculating gaze.
“Go to the village, my love, and wait for my return,” Max said.
Mary nodded. But halfway through, I stopped it – gained enough control of the move to make it shudder.
Max’s eyes narrowed. “Are you alright?”
Mary ignored him. She turned on her heel and headed for the door.
“Wait. You’ve forgotten your basket.”
I felt Mary stiffen, felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She watched Max out of the corner of her eye as he shifted down, plucked up the basket, and handed it to her.
With a shaking hand, she accepted it, her heart practically bursting as she waited for him to find the knife. But he kept his gaze locked on hers.
I felt Mary’s gaze dart towards the knife, felt her desire to reach for it and end this.
But she turned away and headed for the door.
No, I screamed in her head.
I knew she’d never get another chance like this – that I’d never get a chance like this.
So I threw my whole mind against the remaining strings holding me back. And they broke.
I jolted to the side, the basket slipping down my shoulder.
I didn’t have the time to appreciate that I’d finally gained control of Mary’s body. I jerked forward, crammed a hand into the basket, caught the hilt of the knife, and spun on my foot.
I thrust towards Max.
Surprise spilled across his face like ice melt.
I jerked towards him, plunging the knife towards his chest.
I’d never knowingly killed someone. Before today, I hadn’t thought myself capable of such violence.
But this was different. This was kill or be killed.
It didn’t matter, anyway. This was a vision. And I wanted out. Out of the past, out of this dream, out of the curse.
Max didn’t react quickly enough. Nor did he have to. For just before my knife could plunge through his chest, I felt something split through me. There was a shudder that threw me to the left, and Mary McLane’s body tore away from me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her turn and walk away, apparently unaffected by the fact I’d just taken control of her.
Max turned just in time, and the knife dashed against his arm, splitting his bicep down to his elbow. Blood splattered the floor and table, dripped into the flowers and leaves strewn between us.
I tried to twist, tried to jerk the knife to the side. I didn’t get the chance.
Max yanked a hand up and caught mine, holding the blade in place a single millimeter from his chest.
I heard the door close behind me, heard Mary’s retreating footsteps.
Max McCane glared down
