Author's Note: Dear readers, I am soo sorry this chapter took so long to write! I don't know what happened except to blame it on writer's block and lack of motivation😿. I won't make any promises (since I seem to be bad at keeping them) but now that I remember where I was going I am hoping  to have the next chapter (which is the finale) very soon. 💜💜💜

Carlos

My consciousness leaves my body the instant I take Kyle's hand. I watch myself crumple to the floor, my physical form cast off like a discarded sock, hitting the boards of the stage with a muffled thump.

Rafael runs forward and drops to his knees at my side, shouting curses at his trigger-happy sister and checking for a pulse. He's not really concerned about me, of course; only with whether or not I've expired before the appointed time and thrown a wrench in his well-laid but swiftly unraveling plans.

While the murderous siblings throw insults at each other, I turn my attention to Kyle. He looks surprisingly good for a ghost. His eyes are clear, no longer black voids but the watery blue-gray I remember them to be, and his slightly crowded teeth are clean and white, as if he's just had them bleached. He still wears the gray coveralls he died in, but the grease stains are gone.

He smiles shyly. "Hi, Mr. Martinez. I remember what happened to me. I remember everything."

My heart twists with pity and anger. This poor kid. "Kyle... I am so sorry."

"It's okay, Mr. Martinez. It doesn't hurt anymore. It's you who needs help, now."

I look back at my body where it lies, unmoving, in the ruined circle. "Am I... dead?"

To my relief, Kyle shakes his head. "No, Mr. Martinez. You're alive, and we're going to keep you that way."

"We?"

"They're wrong about him, Mr. Martinez. About the demon. He's not 'evil.' He just wants to go home."

Remembering the dark presence that I'd felt in the 'in-between,' I shudder. "Are you sure about that? It didn't seem very friendly to me."

"Well, maybe not 'friendly,'" Kyle allows, still smiling easily as he shrugs. "But not 'bad,' either. He's been stuck there a long time, but he doesn't want to break into this world and hurt people. He wants to get back to his own, and I told him you could help."

"Me?"

"Yeah." Kyle nods. "He was real mad at first, when I told him who you are. See, my aunt tricked your aunt and your mom into that first ritual, and that's what got the demon trapped in the first place. He was after your mom for a long time, 'cause he thought it was her fault and that she could set him free. But once I explained, he understood. Now he wants to make a deal."

A shiver crawls up my incorporeal spine. Making deals with demons—even 'friendly' ones—is seldom, if ever, wise, but it's not like I've got a colorful variety pack of choices to pick from.

"What kind of deal?"

"Let him possess your body; then, once he's taken care of the Morellis, you return him to his home realm."

Confused, I look at Rafael, who's now busy arranging my body, spread-eagled, in the center of the ruined seal. "I don't understand. I thought that's what Rafael and Rexi wanted to do, anyway. I thought that's why we're here."

Kyle shakes his head. "They're liars, Mr. Martinez. Just like Aunt Lucille. They don't want to send the demon home. They want to capture it and use its power for their own ends."

"Capture it? How? And what is he doing?" I ask, as Rafael, having arranged my body to his liking, rocks back on his heels and begins to chant under his breath. "He can't complete the ritual now. The seal is wrecked."

"He's improvising," says Kyle. "Enough of the seal remains for him to summon the demon and trap it in your body. It won't be a permanent bond, but it'll last long enough for them to get you away from here and make a new seal. Once they do that, the demon will be imprisoned within your physical form, forced to obey their commands."

"And me?"

Kyle shrugs. "You'd be coming with me, I guess."

"Great. So the one thing that hasn't changed is that I die." I shake my head, more confused than ever. "I thought getting rid of demons, no matter what the cost, was the Morellis' whole deal."

"It is," Kyle says, his gaze growing unfocused, as if he's looking at something only he can see. "Or, it was. But some within the family have a larger mission—Lucille and her grandkids, especially. They think people have drifted too far from the 'right path,' become too obsessed with the physical world and forgotten there's more. They think that by creating some paranormal chaos, they can get people back to the 'old ways.' You know—fearing God and burning witches, and all that. You remember what they said about making sacrifices? That's one thing they didn't lie about. Lucille sacrificed her own son for it."

Wow. I knew they were zealots, but this is next level zealotry. "How do you know all this?"

Kyle shrugs. "Ever since the demon helped me get unstuck and remember what happened to me, I just... know stuff."

A ghost being useful for once? Color me impressed.

I rub my brow. "Okay, but once they'd got me, why tell the lie?"

"I guess they thought you'd fight back harder if you knew there was more than your own life at stake," Kyle says. "But they didn't lie about the demon needing to be in a physical form in order to be exorcized and sent home. If the Morelli's bind him, he'll be trapped, and you'll die; but if you let him possess you willingly, he'll have full control."

I take a breath. Well, not having physical lungs, I don't really take a breath, but whatever. My astral body does the astral equivalent, and I nod. "Okay. Not like I've got great options."

"The only problem is, the demon is pretty powerful, and he thinks possessing you will probably kill you, anyway, especially since you're already hurt."

"Uh... right. So, how are you keeping me alive, again?"

"We're not," Kyle says, looking towards the top of the theater as a dog's bark echoes through the hall, drawing Rafi and Rexi's attention. "He will. And then the demon will save you both. You, and John."

"John..." A chill goes through me at the sound of his name. "What do you mean, save John?"

"There isn't time," Kyle says. "You need to decide. Give him permission to possess your body, or see how things play out. But the demon says you'll die for sure if you don't accept his help, and he'll still be trapped."

Fuck me. What kind of a choice is that?

"Fine," I say, watching as Rafael shouts at Rexi to kill whoever comes through the door. "Fine—tell him he has my permission to possess me, on one condition: he tells me his name first."

A lot of what people think they know about demons is half truth or whole fabrication, but one thing they get right is that names hold power. If the demon tells me his, I'll have something to use against him if he goes back on his word.

Tilting his head to the side, Kyle appears to listen to something only he can hear. "He says he will tell you, but that you probably can't pronounce it, since most of the sounds don't have an equivalent in this dimension. He says the closest he can get is..."

Kyle opens his mouth and releases a bizarre string of noises somewhere between discordant music, a jungle full of animals, and a bunch of rocks tumbling down a hill. It bears so little resemblance to human language that I couldn't reproduce it if my life—or soul—depended on it.

Meanwhile, I'm out of time. I can sense John's presence, warm and bright, as he enters the theater and approaches.

"Alright," I say, throwing caution to the wind. "Do it."

Kyle smiles, his ghostly blue eyes seeming to peer straight through mine, and nods.

Almost as soon as he does, my body twitches in a very unwholesome manner, as if someone attached electrodes to all my extremities and gave me a good shock. Rafael is too distracted by whatever's happening at the other end of the theater to notice, and a dreadful anticipation fills me like liquid dark chocolate filling a bowl as I watch myself climb awkwardly to my feet and roll my head from side to side, cracking my neck.

I look a lot scarier and more imposing than I ever do in the mirror.

This impression is further solidified when my possessed body turns and confronts Rafael, face to face. At first he looks surprised, but pleased, probably thinking the possession ritual has gone smoother than he imagined it would. His expressions swiftly changes when, moving faster than humanly possible, 'I' grasp his throat, lift him off his feet, and slam him onto his back. Then, to make matters more surreal, my demon-controlled self sets a foot on his chest, takes hold of his head, and tears it from his body, Predator style. Blood splatters across the stage. Shocked and sickened, I can only stare as the demon, wearing my face, turns to look at me and smiles.

Rexi screams. She stands at the far end of the stage, horror etched on her face, and fires two shots at the demon, who watches without concern as the bullets spark off an invisible shield.

Movement at the other end of the theater distracts them both, and Rexi fires more shots, aiming wildly into the darkened hall. Someone returns fire. Rexi takes a bullet to the chest and drops. My heart lifts with relief as John approaches, flanked by Becky and one of the Hunter siblings—Freya the bounty hunter, I think.

The demon seems glad to see him, too, and greets him with a slow, broad smile, speaking in a voice surprisingly like my own.

"Hello, John. We've been waiting for you."

As John approaches, eyes locked on the demon wearing my flesh and completely oblivious to my incorporeal presence, I can only hope I haven't made a horrible mistake.