My vision—the one I’d had a few days ago where I was on top of him, leading the fun. This was it, coming to life, only I didn’t actually like it now.
“Marla!” I shouted. “Grayson! Get in here!”
“What is it?” Xavier asked. “Have I displeased you?”
“Get the fuck away,” I said. “You’re not Xavier. Put your bloody clothes on, you arsehole.”
He did as I asked, sitting up and getting dressed with a glum expression on his face.
“I thought you two were making up—” Marla said as she stepped into the room. She took in the sight of Xavier zipping up his pants, and me straightening my top. “Oh, looks like you already have.”
“No, we have not,” I said, gesturing between Xavier and me. “This is an imposter.”
Grayson came up behind Marla and stared at Xavier. “He smells just like Xavier. My shifter senses wouldn’t get that wrong.”
“But...the demon,” Marla said.
“Exactly,” I said. “I think he’s possessed.”
“I’m only possessed by the desire to please you, my goddess,” Xavier said, falling to his knees in front of me and tugging on the edge of my shirt.
Grayson pointed at Xavier, his finger shaking, his mouth agape with horror. “That is no alpha wolf.”
“Exactly,” I snapped. “Xavier, listen. We’re going to get you some help.”
“You told me to get the fuck away,” he said, a tear rolling down his cheek.
Bloody hell, I did not have time for tears. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest—I didn’t want his feelings to be hurt. But also, this was not really Xavier.
“Can I go to the little boy’s room?” Xavier asked in a plaintive voice.
Sounding completely gobsmacked, Grayson said, “Sure, whatever.”
Turning away, I found my phone on the nightstand and dialed Ben. His line immediately clicked over to voicemail. Where was that demon-hunting radio show host when we needed him?
His recorded voice shouted, “I’m at the SCROTE conference in Cincinnati this week! Come join me and talk about all the wrinkly, hairy topics related to SCROTE!”
I ended the call, not bothering to leave a message.
“Ben’s still at the conference?” Marla asked.
“Sounds like,” I said. “But we have everything here.”
“Except,” Marla said, “for Xavier.”
I looked back to where he’d been kneeling. “Fucking hell, where’d he go?”
The door downstairs slammed, little bells tinkling after the bang.
“He left?” I said.
“I thought he was just taking a piss,” Grayson said, looking apologetic.
My heart started pounding as panic set in. “We have to find him. Someone could hurt him.”
“Okay.” Marla took my hand. “Hang on. We’ll go find him. We have the demon juice already, and we’ll bring it with us. Grayson, you can stay back in case Xavier returns.”
I chewed my lip. What if the demon had strengthened itself again, and the new recipe wasn’t strong enough?
No, I couldn’t think like that. This had to work.
“In which case, I do what?” Grayson asked.
“Sit on him,” I said. “He’s submissive now, so just boss him around and he’ll probably do what you say.”
Grayson rolled his eyes and muttered, “Pathetic.”
19
XAVIER
Kelly was trying to help. I knew this, in my mind—in the back of it, apparently—because my feet were still carrying me in the opposite direction.
I winked at a pair of seniors who were staring at me from the park bench. The two women whispered and laughed.
Why would I wink? Scowl. I should have scowled.
Nothing made sense. My body wasn’t making sense. There was something seriously wrong with me, like there were two of us inside of me fighting for control and I was losing.
Wipe that smile off your face.
I thought it.
My body didn’t listen.
My feet skipped along, and my hands clapped like I was Fred fucking Astaire. I picked up an umbrella from a stand by the door to a little shop, slid it down my shoulders, spun it around, then with a bop of my elbow sent it back to its stand. The tables outside were full, and the sign above the door labeled the place as a coffee shop with a turd for a mascot.
A group of women with babies clapped. They actually clapped for my stupid show.
And I bowed.
Gross.
I hopped down off the curb, did a little skip, then hopped back up. This was absurd. This wasn’t me. Frustrated, I decided to try something. I told my right foot not to lift. You’re lead, sinking down into the cement. Nothing can lift you.
And my sashay faltered.
Win. Okay, so all I needed to do was willfully decide what was going to happen. Turn around, and return to Kelly.
“No.” My lips formed the word I didn’t tell them to say.
Turn around.
“This is how we work now,” my mouth said.
I do not accept that. There is no we, only me.
I laughed—well, my body did.
Inside, I seethed.
At some point, I must have blacked out, because I appeared to have crossed a few blocks with no recognition of the time that had passed.
Coming back to awareness, I realized there was no way I could let this keep going. I had to make a move, or who knew what would happen to me. With all the conviction and force that I had, I concentrated on what had worked before.
My feet are lead.
My body obeyed. I would have thrown my fist in the air if I’d had control of it. But everything was moving still, moving down.
Impact was inevitable. I saw the sidewalk coming straight for my face. I couldn’t lift my arms to stop it. There was only the flash of panic, and then the crunch and the pain.
Blood spilled down my throat from my first faceplant since toddlerhood. And I couldn’t be happier.
It’s my body.
I told my limbs to remain still. But instead, I rolled to my back, touched my face and lifted wet fingers from my nose up in front of my eyes. It was as if part of me needed to see the blood, because tasting and smelling the metallic quality of it wasn’t enough.
“You think you have a say in what our body does?” I heard