This
possession was turning out to be an unqualified disaster.
Aria
was now lying on a gurney in a dimly lit grey hallway with fluorescent lights
that flickered, buzzed, and crackled. She was naked except for a thin paper
blanket on top of her. She was also stuck in a flesh coffin. To make things
worse, a woman in one of the rooms wouldn’t stop screaming.
This
scene around her should have been playing out in some backwoods hospital or
abandoned insane asylum, where her body would belong to someone about to be
lobotomized. Instead, her host was actually a beautiful 40-year-old model who
was a patient at the posh and luxurious American Hospital of Paris, there for
elective cosmetic surgery. This had been what she was expecting, to inhabit a
body where the consciousness was subdued. Instead, she was momentarily stuck in
a body where the resident soul had decided to take a little break, and so Aria
couldn’t get out. If it didn’t return fast enough, she could end up having
surgery while fully conscious.
The
possession had started out normal enough. Aria had sheltered herself in one of
the “blank” rooms at the Academy in a sensory deprivation tank. When her
consciousness had left her body, it had been drawn to the target woman, and she
had entered her mind. She didn’t know how they achieved this little feat. She
was only a Tier 3 possessor. Aria had no idea what level one had to be in order
to learn the details of how they did what they did, but she didn’t really care.
She was happy working in her unit, where she was assigned to “catalytic”
possessions in order to “tip” certain marked individuals. They would then
influence the mark in the way that the Academy directed. In return for
providing this service, the Academy gave her everything she needed and almost
anything she wanted. The cost of her beauty products alone probably ran into
the thousands per month.
But
for this assignment, Aria had awakened to find herself in an anesthetized body.
This wasn’t strictly the problem. She had possessed people who were sleeping
before, as well as those who had been drugged. In fact, drugs were often used
to help initiate a possession. But in all these previous possessions, the
residual soul was still present, and Aria used the resources of this soul to
move the body around, just as she would move her own body around. But this time
it was different. She could see, feel, and hear, but that was it. For the moment,
she had no actual control over her vehicle. This was particularly problematic
because one of her special talents was using her voice and the grace of her
movements to influence others.
The
volume of screaming increased as a door down the hall was opened, and a man
stepped out. He was dressed in green scrubs, a surgical gown, and a
bouffant-style white gauze cap. A light blue mask covered his mouth and nose.
Aria’s head was angled to the side, so she couldn’t see his shoes, but they
squeaked as he walked. He was wearing glasses that reflected the dim light
around them, giving off an unnatural golden rose glow.
“Ah,
they were right, you are beautiful,” he said as he came to stand next to her, a
smile in his deep baritone voice.
Despite
her circumstances, Aria felt a flush of pleasure. She couldn’t speak or move,
but at least her host seemed to be beautiful, and beauty was power. Even if she
didn’t have her voice, maybe her beauty would be enough to protect her from
whatever was happening.
Aria
was intimately aware of the influence of beauty. She herself had been a
beautiful actress before the Academy recruited her. Her golden eyes and auburn
hair had enchanted many men in power. It had driven a few over the edge. Her
beauty had been her calling card, and she had protected it. She had even had
abortions during her acting years so that she could keep her figure. If she was
in her own body, she knew she could easily control this man. She would have to
pray that the beauty of her host would be enough to do the same thing. She
might even be able to project her own beauty through her eyes, even if she
couldn’t really move them much.
“And
you do look a bit like Isabella Adjani,” he said, cocking his head to the side.
His voice was breathy, and his tone had softened and changed.
Being
as beautiful as she was in life, she was used to being hit on, chased, and even
stalked. So she recognized the tone of the man’s voice. It was a mixture of
lust, love, anger, longing, and resentment. It was a dangerous mixture, but also
very useful if manipulated correctly.
The
actual words of his statement took a second more to register, but once they
did, Aria felt a flash of irritation at the owner of her host body. She had
been sent into this woman just because the woman looked a bit like Isabella
Adjani. Her mark, the person that she was supposed to “tip,” had been a “fan”
of Adjani but in the old-school definition. Fan, as in fanatic. He had been
obsessive to the point of planning to kidnap her. This wasn’t well known, but
the Academy was stellar at data collection of all kinds. What also wasn’t well
known was that the mark was now a surgeon here at AHP. She had a feeling that
she might have just met him, and, for the moment, she couldn’t really
capitalize on it. This meant that her assignment was likely to go on longer
than it needed to, and when she came back to her body, she would need days to
get her skin back to being properly moisturized.
“Having
trouble speaking, love? That must be very frustrating for you,” he said to her as
he reached out and touched her face. This was neither normal doctor behavior
nor normal mark behavior.
“Let’s
just get you rolled on into the operating theatre,” he continued, moving behind
her and moving the gurney forward. As he did so, he reached out again and ran
his hand down her neck toward her breasts, but he stopped before reaching them.
“No,
it wouldn’t be right to do something inappropriate, would it?” he whispered in
a tone that suggested otherwise. Then he laughed and used the gurney to push through
the swinging doors of the room nearest to her.
Bright
lights hit her eyes as she was rolled into the operating theatre. From where
she was lying, she could see another gurney on the other side of the room. A
naked old woman was on it, rigid and unmoving, with one hand hanging above her
as if clawing at the air.
“She
was beautiful once, too,” said a woman’s voice. The voice came from behind her,
so she couldn’t see her, but her voice was soft and sultry. It was a warm water
voice but with a lilting quality that came across as almost fairy-like.
“But
beauty fades if it exists only for selfish purposes, don’t you think?” the
voice asked. “Oh wait, you can’t speak, can you? Well, I can give you that at
least.”
The
woman who walked around the gurney to face her was the most beautiful woman
that Aria had ever seen. She had pale skin. It was so pale that she finally
understood the word “porcelain” as it pertained to skin. Even though it was
pale and translucent, it was infused with a rosy glow. Her eyes were cornflower
blue, and her hair was a shade of red that was almost pink. To top all this
off, she was wearing a pink negligee that left little to the imagination, and
what was visible was close to perfect.
“I
do hate having a one-sided conversation,” the woman said as she reached out and
put her hand on Aria’s throat. Immediately, Aria felt her throat open.
“Thank
you so much,” she said to the woman, putting as much energy into her tone as
she could. The woman just laughed.
“That
won’t work on me, lamb,” she said. “But let me introduce myself. My name is
Rose, and I work for the Academy.”
Aria
felt a wave of relief pass over her.
“Oh,
thank God,” she said. “I work for the Academy too.”
“I
know,” Rose said. “That’s why you’re here. This was a test.”
“What
sort of test?” Aria asked, feeling the knot in her stomach return.
Rather
than answer her question, the woman stood up and walked over to the wall. This
was the first time that Aria noticed that the room was missing all the things
that one associates with surgery rooms. There were no trays, no bright lights
mounted on rollers, no blankets or straps on the gurneys. There was only a wall
covered with screens, another wall of what looked like stacked cabinets, and
the rigid old woman.
“We
suddenly have a need for agents who can not only possess but hold on to even
the barest filaments of a soul’s consciousness,” Rose said. “The less of the
soul that needs to be kept, the better. If there isn’t a slight remnant of the
remaining consciousness still in the body, then the body will immediately begin
to degrade. Depending on the age of the spirit possessing it, that degradation
can be extremely rapid and painful to experience.”
She
then nodded toward the old woman.
“You
weren’t able to hold what remained of this woman’s consciousness for more than
a couple of seconds,” Rose said. “So that means that you are useless in terms
of the long-term possessions we will need in the upcoming years.”
“What
does that mean?” Aria asked.
“It
means we are retiring you,” Rose replied.
Aria’s
heart began to hammer in her chest. Retirement from the Academy meant death.
Her thoughts must have been transparent because Rose laughed. Her laughter
sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes.
“Oh
pumpkin, you think we are going to kill you?” Rose asked, moving toward the
body of the old woman. “But we aren’t. We have a different plan for you.”
Rose
pushed the gurney with the old woman’s body on it toward the wall of cabinets.
“You
failed the test,” Rose said.
“So
you are punishing me?” Aria asked.
“Punishing?”
Rose said. “No, lamb, we aren’t punishing you. You aren’t interesting enough to
punish. You are just a failure. We will try again with another.”
“What
will happen to me?” Aria asked.
“Nothing,”
Rose replied as she pulled open one of the cabinets, and cold air escaped. It
was then that Aria realized that these things were not cabinets but mortuary
freezers. Rose nodded to the doctor, who slid the old woman’s body from the
gurney to the freezer and shut the door.
As
the door shut, Aria understood, and her heart began to beat wildly in her
chest.
“No,
please,” she said. “You don’t have to do this. You are so beautiful, and I’m
sure you are just as kind…”
“When
has beauty had anything to do with kindness?” Rose snapped. “The most beautiful
creature alive is a mother and an infant. You are a mother who killed her
infants, and for nothing more than vanity.”
As
she uttered these last words, Rose’s face was infused with such venom, such
hatred, that Aria wished she could look away. She felt as if she would be
burned alive by that gaze, but then Rose smiled and laughed her tinkling laugh.
“So
yes, precious, I do have to do this,” Rose said. “The only way you can help us
now is to provide us data on how long your body will stay alive with you in it.
Your existence will culminate in being a sweet little data point for us.”
“No,
no, please, no,” Aria pleaded, but the doctor had started pushing her gurney
toward the now open door of a freezer cabinet.
“Such
a shame to have to waste this body; it really does look like Isabella,” the
doctor said with a sigh.
“Don’t
worry, we’ll find you another,” Rose purred at him.
“I
can help, I can still help. I’ve done a lot for the Academy,” Aria pleaded, but
the doctor was picking her up and placing her on a cold metal slab.
“Don’t
worry, precious, you will help, in your way,” Rose said. “But you need to be
quiet now, so that you don’t disturb your neighbors.”
“Plea…”
Aria began, but Rose placed a finger on Aria’s throat and her voice was
silenced.
And
with that, she closed Aria into the dark… where beauty means nothing.
Bright Midnights
Excerpt:
“Everyone, could you pass your weekly journals forward,” Ms. Pryll announced. “And I think, perhaps, today I will pick a few of you to read your entries to the rest of the class. Ms. McCormick, you always have such interesting entries. How about we begin with you?”
Ms. Pryll motioned her forward. Ah, her eye rolling had been noticed. Amelie really wasn’t off to a good start today. On top of her intestinal grumbling, she was feeling the beginnings of a tension headache creeping up the back of her neck.
Just as she was standing up to assume the position at the front of the classroom, someone stumbled through the door. It was Hudson. He was slumping, holding on to the doorframe. Hudson wouldn’t be drawing attention to himself in normal circumstances. Something was wrong. Ms. Pryll was finally pulled from her flirting by the fact that the rest of the class was staring at the doorway. As they watched, Hudson slid down the doorframe into a huddled position.
“Now Mr. Crowe, please come in and sit down,” said Ms. Pryll, with exasperation.
Hudson managed to hold up a small blue object, before slumping forward.“Dude’s been drinking?” Ryan laughed from the back.
Hudson tried one more time to raise his head and lift the thing in his hands. Everyone in the class just stared at him. The front of Amelie’s forehead suddenly exploded with images, and the lighted words from the cereal box this morning made sense.
Low. Sugar. Bad.
“He’s not drunk,” Amelie snapped. “That’s a glucose meter. He’s diabetic.”
Amelie dropped her notebook and ran to the door, falling to her knees beside Hudson. She had a vague notion that this hurt and she would be bruised later, before she grabbed Hudson’s head. She didn’t know if people in insulin shock had seizures or not, but that didn’t matter. She knew what to do. She had been told by something more reliable than memory. Low blood sugar was bad.
What to do? Okay, Elodie had her phone. What else? Jack, he always ate breakfast at his desk. Today it was a bottle of orange juice. Thank god.
“Elodie, call 911—now! Jack, throw me your OJ,” Amelie snapped.
Jack just smirked at her, completely disengaged in the fact that another human being was in crisis. A wave of fury replaced the images in Amelie’s head, making everything around her look shiny, sharp, and red. The world began to move in slow motion. She turned, her eyes met Jack’s, and she let her well-constructed shields drop … just… drop. The energy that flowed out of her felt glorious.
“Jack, throw me your OJ, now,” she said, softly this time. She saw the shocked look on Jack’s face, but he immediately grabbed the OJ and tossed it to her. The chemical wave that seemed to be her birthright rolled over him, through him, past him and across the class … person by person, face by face.
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