Darkest Designs by Dale Mayer Page B

for denying them a community. And there was no doubt that’s what they’d built.
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    Who’d have thought?
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    Just then Storey gave a high pitched squeal. Her head was thrown back on her neck into a rigid, backward arch. Her mouth opened and she screamed again. A long, painful wailing.
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    And then she fell silent. And still.
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S torey slowly came awake. She lifted her lids ever so slightly and realized that much hadn’t changed. She was still in In-between, caught in the never ending mist. She slammed her eyes shut again. So what was different? She considered it slowly. Inside was different. Her breath still went in and out in a relaxed rhythm. Her temperature appeared normal. She couldn’t feel pain anymore, so that was good. Whatever had been tearing her skull in two was gone. She rolled her head to one side experimentally. That worked well. Hesitantly, she lifted her head to look around.
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    Eric was crouched in front of her, worry lines marring his face.
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    â€œHow do you feel now?”
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    She opened her mouth. No words came out. She tried again. Nothing. She frowned. Why did she have no voice? She coughed and heard the hoarse sounds coming from a long ways off. So her vocal cords worked. She tried again. “Aggh.” She waggled her tongue inside her mouth. It felt larger, thicker than normal. Filling her mouth unnaturally full. Odd.
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    â€œStorey? You’re scaring me.” Such concern, caring, poured from his gaze. As if by his emotion alone he could fix whatever was wrong.
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    She managed a weak smile. “I’m…here.” That sounded better. Maybe she just needed a little more recovery time. She tried to sit up, managing to get her arm under her to prop herself up. Her arm gave way and she collapsed.
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    â€œHere, let me help.” Eric grasped her under the arms and helped her to a sitting position. “Is that better?”
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    She nodded.
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    â€œYou’re having trouble talking?” Eric stared down into her eyes. She brightened and nodded.
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    A brush of relief whispered across his face. “Okay. What about the rest? Can you take a moment and check out the rest of you? Can you move? Think on your own? Is the Broken One in there with you?
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    â€œYes.”
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    Storey’s eyes opened so wide they hurt. She stared at Eric.
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    That hadn’t been her voice.
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    That had been a man’s voice.
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    Oh no.
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    She swallowed heavily.
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    â€œStorey? Was that you?” Eric leaned back and stared. “Or was that the Broken One speaking?”
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    â€œYes.”
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    Eric lifted a brow. “Yes, what?”
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    â€œThe Broken One speaks.”
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    Storey shuddered. God what a feeling. Her vocal cords rippled, her mouth moved, only she wasn’t the one moving them. She wasn’t the one in control. The Broken One had control.
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    Stylus!
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    Yes.
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    What is going on? she asked. The Broken One is speaking using my body. You didn’t say he would be able to control my body while he was in me.
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    I did not know it would happen.
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    Well it did, she snapped. Now I need to move him from me to you. I can’t function like this.
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    There is some rest time required. This first move took much energy.
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    Then recharge. Fast.
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    It takes time. We are damaged.
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    She wanted to scream at that last phrase. I know you are damaged. That’s why we are doing this. But I am struggling here. How do I regain control ?
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    You never lost it. He is a visitor only.
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    And she, like a good host, had stepped aside. So he hadn’t taken control – she’d handed it over. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, softly in a long, meditative, drawn out sigh, releasing the old, dead air from her lungs.
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    As the last of the air exhaled, she smiled, feeling tension she hadn’t been aware of drifting