"But you heard Ada," said Jamie, his voice distant, muffled.

Jessamine tried to shake her head, but it was pounding so hard the slightest movement rendered her immobile. She lifted a hand to her face, and in doing so grazed the ground with her fingertips—dry grass brushed against her skin.

Fuck.

She remembered now; Avery and Jamie had gotten out, Jamie had stormed up to the car, opened the door, she'd tumbled out, and—nothing. She recalled nothing after that.

Had she hit her head on the door-frame? Smacked it onto the dried-up ground? She rubbed the back of her head but there was no moisture, no bump, no sign of injury. She shifted side to side, trying to gauge her position; she was half-lying, half-sitting, with something hard behind her—the car, probably. So she'd collapsed, and all they'd done was prop her up against the vehicle, leaving her outside?

I need... to be... inside the car.

Avery's voice entered her conscience, and she realized he was near, too, but not as close as Jamie. With her eyes closed, she felt their shadows hovering over her, intensifying the darkness behind her eyelids.

"Jamie, no, that's not—"

"She has to die." Jamie's voice was clearer now, coming into focus—and those four words struck Jessamine like he'd slammed them into her head with a hedge hammer.

"She does not," said Avery, animation in his timbre. His voice remained distant, arriving from farther away, and Jessamine wondered why he wasn't nearer, why Jamie was, instead. "We can leave, now, and move on from this."

"Oh, yeah?" Jamie made a sound similar to a scoff, but it sounded choked, caught in his throat. "And have her come back later when no one is looking? That possessor, the thing that was in her... he isn't here, inside her, to protect her anymore! We fucked up. The connection was established, and she can never run again. That's what that blue dude said, right?"

Blue dude? So Faz... he made it in there and convinced Ada to release them?

Jessamine's eyelids were heavy, but she wished she could open them, witness Jamie's expression, Avery's expression, and tell them she'd done that—she'd sent the blue dude to rescue them. So why were they arguing now? Why were they debating whether or not she needed to die?

"You understood it like I did, Avery." Jamie's tone laced with a thread of threat that Jessamine had never heard in it before. It caused her to recoil, to want to back away—but she was pinned against the car, and could tell that Jamie was standing in front of her, and he might have been ready to knock her out again if he saw she'd awoken.

He wants to kill me? But that's not how it goes, that's not—

"She and the other prophesied person are here, activating this fucking prophecy; so this has to happen tonight. We have to end it."

Needing to see the truth, to handle the situation, Jessamine managed to open her eyes, and gasped at the sight forming before her. Jamie, towering over her, holding a gun; the gun, the one she'd found in Avery's dashboard.

And he was pointing it right at her head, its nuzzle inches from her temple.

He was about to shoot me, an unconscious woman? What the fuck?

"Whoa," she said, scrambling up to her feet with the help of the car, pressing her arms and hands hard into its cool, metallic surface. She steadied, but barely. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Her voice came out as a whisper, a mist, and she wasn't sure Jamie had heard it, but he didn't relax his grip on the gun if he had.

Avery was there, closer than she'd imagined, but he was holding his thigh tightly with one hand, and using the other to swat at Jamie, to try to dislodge the pistol from his grasp. Jamie, uninjured, merely swatted back, as if Avery were a pesky fly he had no interest in killing—and no time to bother with.

With Jessamine standing, Jamie now aimed the gun at the bridge of her nose, but tall as he was, he was still staring down at her; and her awakening had done nothing to test his resolve.

She'd seen situations like these in movies, sure; moments when a heroine distracted then mystically disarmed someone pointing a weapon at them, or used ruse to trick them into lowering the weapon long enough to evade death—or postpone it. But Jessamine wasn't a heroine; she was a victim, locked in a prophecy that wasn't of her own making. She had no special physical skills, aside from dancing, which she doubted would come in handy right now. And her tongue was tied in her mouth, heavy and cotton-like all at once; she wouldn't find anything intelligible enough to talk herself out of this.

Avery finally got a hold of Jamie's arm and squeezed tight, attempting to wrench him away from Jessamine. "I get it, but you don't. You're not in the right spot, for starters. She," he paused for breath, his chest caving in as he sucked in the cool night air, "needs to be in front of that basement door, remember?"

Jessamine's eyebrows scrunched as she fixed Avery; he wasn't looking at her, instead focused on the gun.

So Ada told them the same as Faz told me... well, at least their stories add up.

"And also?" Avery snorted. "You're not the prophesied one, dumbass. I am. Ada made that clear enough, with that whole electric shock thing that happened between Jessamine and me. So... you shooting her now? Wasted bullet, buddy. You can't kill her."

Jessamine let out a succession of relieved breaths knowing that in a dangerous situation, Avery knew how to piece together his words to make coherent sentences. And though she couldn't be sure—he had a vicious look about him, a snarl lifting his lips to bare his teeth and a wrinkle in his brow that seemed stuck on his face—she thought he might have been seeking to save her. If he was indeed the other person in the prophecy, it didn't seem like he wanted to drag her down to the basement tonight and get this over with.

"Wasted bullet?" Jamie nudged him off with his elbow, sending him reeling an inch or two backwards, wincing. "Nah, if we kill her now, problem solved yeah? Those assholes wouldn't have a body to possess. And in any case," his gaze switched to Avery, though he didn't move his head in his direction, keeping it positioned towards Jessamine, "how can we be sure it is you? Ada might be lying. We don't know these Guide folk, who the fuck knows what their purpose is?"

Jessamine coughed, a taste of blood pooling in her mouth. Had Jamie shot her without realizing, and she was now bleeding internally?

She squinted, painfully peering at him, then at Avery, then at him again.

No... that blood in my mouth isn't real, is it?

The demons—they were near, they were calling her. Their growled voices echoed in her brain, the flavor of them gathered in her mouth, coating her tongue in a coppery essence.

Her time was limited.

"She's not lying," she said, coughing again, desperate to rid herself of the disgustingness filling her mouth. "The prophecies are... true. Faz... that's the blue dude... he told me about them."

Avery, wobbly, looked ready to lean forward and take her hand; but he side-glanced at Jamie and decided he needed to control that situation first, before focusing on Jessamine.

"Right," he said, gritting his teeth, reaching again for Jamie's arm to detain him. Jamie was bigger than him, but Avery was still a fierce, well put-together man with considerable force—and more persistent than most. "Faz, you said? He agreed with everything Ada said. And he told us he told you about it, too. Ada was... she was just telling us about me, the one supposed to block you, the..." he flinched, "the vessel, when Faz showed up."

Jamie elbowed him again, with more violence this time, nearly sending Avery to the ground. "Yeah, and Avery has feelings for you and he can't kill you, which is why I will." He raised the gun to Jessamine's forehead, his speech hysterical, spittle flying from his mouth.

Feelings? Huh?

This was no time to dwell on Avery's emotions, nor hers. She covered her face with her arms and began to slide back down the car, bracing for a bullet to breach her skin, and almost willing to accept it. Jamie was right, though his methods and words were harsh; killing her now might stop the whole thing, might prevent the prophecy from fulfilling. Eliminating her, the problem, might save the world. No, she didn't want to die, but the way things were going she didn't think everyone was going home alive, tonight. She didn't think everyone was going home, period.

But nothing happened—nothing tore through her and shredded into her flesh, no stab of pain, no explosion of blood and bones.

Her hearing was muffled by demonic growls, cramping inside her with their cryptic words; but she hadn't died.

She lowered her arms, trembling, to find that Avery had somehow tackled Jamie to the side and had gotten the gun out of his grip. They were wrestling, Avery's arms wrapped around Jamie's neck in a choke hold, but Jamie's long legs were slipping around Avery's as if to yank him off.

"You're... not... killing her!" Avery's voice was raspy, fluttering through the horde of whispers in Jessamine's mind.

Jamie weaseled out of Avery's hold with an ease that showed he could have escaped him the instant he'd started; but he didn't get up, and didn't reach for the gun that had been tossed to Jessamine's feet.

"Then you have to stop her, dude." Jamie seethed, grabbing at one of his knees as Avery shuffled away from him. "Don't be that version of the prophecy—the one that enables her to let all those demons out!"

Avery got to his knees and brushed off his hands. "I will stop her—by leaving. Let's go. Take her home, okay?" He narrowed his eyes, and Jessamine noticed they were sparkling, a deep ocean blue that took her breath away. "We got our answers. Amy is dead, Jessamine and I are prophesied monsters, heaven and hell aren't real; that's enough for one night. We're done."

Jamie stayed on the ground, but moved into a sitting position, drawing his knees near his chest. "You won't be able to stop her that way, man." He'd calmed down so suddenly, Jessamine wondered if he'd been in a trance, poisoned. If he'd been inflicted with a maddening urge to murder her, possibly on Ada's command, to stop the prophecy from coming true. But whatever had taken over him, it had ceased; he was breathing normally, and all airs of menace had left his being. "She'll always be drawn here."

Ada sounds ruthless enough to try something like that—to mess with a human's mind and contort it, turn it to violence.

The growls grew louder, causing her to grab her head and hold it between her hands. She prayed the pressure would help the pain subside, but the noise inside wouldn't let up. She had no inkling what they were saying, but every whisper hurt, pinching into the membranes of her brain, like needles sticking in to inject her with nonsense.

Avery heaved up to his feet and set his fists on his hips, glaring down at his friend. "Well, good thing I have feelings for her then, yeah? Feelings," he snickered, "the fuck was that ghost-woman on when she said that?"

Jamie scoffed. "You'll deny it?"

"I..." Avery massaged his temples. "Now's not the time to discuss the feelings I may or may not have for her, dude. But since I do care about her, I'll volunteer to be with her twenty-four-seven and monitor her, yeah? I'll make sure she never leaves my sight."

Strangely, that sight he mentioned wasn't on Jessamine at that moment—he was still glowering at Jamie—and he didn't notice what happened next. How Jessamine visualized the house for the first time since she'd woken up—while they were bickering, both men had blocked her view, but now, she saw it in all its glorious gloominess, tall and imposing, its shadow engulfing Jessamine and its giant arms tugging her closer.

Upon seeing it, something inside shifted, rattled in her core, and her ears loaded with the whispers she was slowly beginning to understand.

Drawn—that was the word Jamie had used, and Jessamine believed it was accurate. Like the doorknobs had stretched out, fitting into her palm, waiting to be turned; like a red carpet had been rolled out, leading her way to the front door. A tether, sinking into her muscles, anchoring into her bones, and pulling her closer. She'd sensed that pull before, while in the car; but it was stronger now, not barred because of the car's sturdy exterior. It filtered into her with ease, with every breath she took, and settled deep inside her.

This... no, I can't succumb to this. Please.

Her thoughts were her own, somewhat making sense, for now, but her limbs weren't. She—or the demonic pull, controlling her—moved back up the car, straightening herself. The two men, too busy arguing about her, hadn't paid attention to her careful movements, hadn't noticed she'd dipped out of the conversation.

One leg moved forward.

No. No, don't.

Another moved forward; she was no longer standing against the car, and oddly didn't need to, as she was balanced despite the violence raging on in her mind.

No, please, stop.

Within a few more seconds, she knew what was happening, what was about to happen, but she couldn't prevent it. Her thoughts weren't strong enough, and whatever had taken over her body was infused with a power she couldn't fight. They hadn't even officially entered her, and already they could decide her fate.

Stop, I don't want to do this.

The demons inside her head finally spoke in English; that, or she was able to understand their language now, becoming entwined in their traps, engrossed by their lullaby.

"You have no choice. Come to us, sweetheart, come set us free." She grimaced at how they coddled her, used sweetness to coerce her. "We have so many plans for you."

Even if she screamed, she doubted the noise would escape her mouth. She'd be screaming on the inside, the volume bouncing about her brain and deafening her. They controlled her legs, her arms, her heartbeats; surely they could control her speech, too.

She walked, her paces leveled, calculated.

At last, the two men detected her movement as she approached them, about to pass by them. They sprung to action; Jamie lunged for the gun, but Avery kicked at it, moving it out of the way. He then spun to Jessamine and seized her wrist, momentarily stopping her trek towards the house.

"Jessamine, no," he said, his words a whisper, a breath; too weak to have any effect.

"Dude, pick the gun up!" Jamie's pitch was a screech, a ringing in Jessamine's ears. "She's going in, she's going to open that door! Either do it now, or go with her and finish the job!"

Jessamine's neck craned towards Avery, her sight resting on him, on his panicked face, his shivering arms. The demons had done this—they wanted her to look at him, one last time. To drink up his pleasing features, to drown in his eyes, to wish for those soft lips to press against hers.

"I... can't... stop," she mustered, commanding her lips to obey her. The monsters yelped inside her, regaining control of her mouth, forcing it shut.

But she had so much to say to him, so much to discuss. How she had feelings too—yes, she'd figured that much out after going to crazy lengths to save him from the house. How she didn't want him to follow her in, didn't want him to play his part in the prophecy and have her death on his conscience for the rest of his life. She'd take care of this herself—she'd stashed that knife in her sock for a reason, right?

Defend myself... or kill myself before they can possess me. Is that possible?

She didn't want to think of it as suicide; more like being a martyr, sacrificing herself for a worthy cause. It was no use fighting, she'd come to that conclusion quite quickly. There was no resisting these things as they dragged her close, closer to the house. They didn't need to possess her to have her, that much was evident. The longer she stood there, the more she felt their bony fingers clasping her arms, her wrists, her ankles. The more she heard their growls, urging her; the scent of their smoky, misty bodies beckoning her.

She'd go in, she'd go to the basement, and they'd attempt to hop on in and take her for a joy ride.

No. I won't let them.

"Stay... here," she said, teeth grinding together, lips nearly sealed. She had no clue how she'd gathered the energy to push a few words through, but she had to keep fighting, a few more seconds. "I'll... do it... myself." She wanted to show them she had the knife, but to seek to control her arms and legs was a feat she couldn't manage; moving her lips was hard enough.

"What?" Avery was still holding her, but his grip was waning as she began to inch away from him. "You... you mean... you'll end yourself?"

Jamie grunted, getting up. He fetched the gun, but to Jessamine's surprise, he didn't aim it at her—he instead snuck it into the hem of her leggings, against her spine. The warm surface of it caused chills to scamper up her back.

"Fuck it, then," he took Avery's shoulder to tear him away, "let her go and end it. No murder on our hands. Go on," he jutted his chin towards Jessamine, then the house, "go get it over with."

He was so cold, so heartless, Jessamine might have wondered if his mind had been messed with again; but her own mind was fizzling, her consciousness fading in and out. The demons were getting a hold of her spirit, of her willpower, creeping into the confines of her brain.

Avery ripped from Jamie's grasp and shimmied ahead to block Jessamine's path. "No. Fight it, fight them. Resist." He placed his palms on her chest, above her breasts, barring her. "Please, there has to be another way."

On impulse—hers or the demon's, she had no idea—she leaned forward and kissed him, her lips frozen, his warm and comforting. She lingered, one second, two, or maybe five minutes, reveling in the feel of him, wishing to taste him. But whatever instinct she'd been following shattered, and she pulled away, moving aside to continue on her path.

"Jessamine!" He hurried to get in front of her again, but she shoved him off, a bit harder than expected. He stumbled, but walked backwards, keeping his eyes on her.

"It's... too... late," she said, hoarse and croaky, pain spiraling up her throat with her every forced word. More and more of her consciousness faded, chipped off by the demons' growls latching on to her, into her. They hadn't even possessed her yet; how would their real invasion feel? "They hold... me... can't turn... around." Her vision blurred, and she no longer saw Avery's face with clarity. "Won't let... this shit... happen. Go home. Be... safe."

She expected him to relent, to bow his head and let her pass; but no one was more stubborn than Avery Boomer. He didn't move, using his barreled chest as a wall to obstruct her passage.

"Dude, fucking let her go," said Jamie, somewhere in the distance—he sounded like he was miles away.

The house loomed behind Avery, bigger and brighter, as if illuminated by sunlight—but it was nighttime. Heavenly and sparkly, lulling Jessamine into its depths. She had no means to avoid it, ignore it; the growls reverberating inside had become moans, screams, more words to bring her closer. No amount of resistance would work, at this point, and her attempts to convince herself not to do this had been futile. They wanted her, and they'd have her.

With a low, hostile sound slithering from her mouth, she thrust Avery out of her way, sending him flying several feet to the side and landing with a loud thump. She wanted to twist and look at him, assess the damage she'd done—he'd flown upward then crashed, and she had an inkling she might have broken his arm. Or if he'd landed on his head, he might have had a concussion.

But the creatures summoning her didn't care, didn't have time to. They susurrated in her ear, helping her with the remaining feet separating her from the door. She stretched out her arm, and her fingertips grazed the brass knob, enclosed it, and tugged.

A cloud of darkness gobbled her up, and the door slammed behind her.

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