Chapter Seven
Hollen
He slipped through the apartment door, taking a deep breath of warm air. Once inside, he pressed his back against it and leaned his head until it thudded against the hollow plane. His heart was still pounding, goosebumps littering his naked arms. The only thing between him and a chill from outside had been a thin tank top, which hadn’t soaked up a single ounce of tea stain.
For all the three locks on the door, it was probably fragile enough that someone could easily break right through it if they had the desire to. But it still had that barrier—the break from the outside world that muffled the voices of the neighbors and the smell of their various dishes that always combined into a mess.
“We have a few things to talk about, George,” said Hollen softly, looking down at himself. His uniform top was in a random dumpster, the white pants still clinging to his hips. They did little to warm him, the fabric thin and soft. The rainy coolness that had lasted for almost a week now had soaked into his very limbs after a few minutes on that strange, clearly cursed table.
It was late, probably close to eleven at night, but the lights were still on, the kitchen just beyond the door fully lit with the oven whirring away. Somehow, he’d hoped that Adair had already gone to bed, his soft snores greeting him instead of the overly bright lights.
There was a shuffling in the kitchen before Adair appeared at the end of the hall. There were dark circles under his eyes, the white still tainted with pink from tiredness or tears. “How did it go?”
He was wearing oven mitts, the blue stripes faded from so many uses and washes. Something red was smeared on his lips, and he quickly licked it away, his cheeks rosy presumably from the heat of the oven. “I made jam cookies, and there’s pizza in the oven for a late-night snack.”
Hollen glanced at the clock. It was later than he had thought and long past when Adair should have gone to bed. Most of his workouts started first thing in the morning, and since they didn’t have a car, he relied on buses to get there. It added an hour to his trip and cut away even more at the amount of time he had to sleep.
“You didn’t have to do that, baby,” said Hollen, toeing off his shoes as he took a deep inhale. “But it smells delicious. I was really craving a pizza, too, but don’t you have to dance tomorrow?”
“I wanted to know how your day went,” said Adair, turning back to the kitchen as a timer went off. There was a faint burning smell as Hollen followed after him into the tiny space that had barely enough room for two people and a miniature table. “I’m surprised you’re home so early. Is that good or bad?”
“Umm, good?” said Hollen, scratching the back of his head. He couldn’t tell Adair that he’d lost another job so soon. They were one step away from being out on the streets, then Adair would have to drop out of dance school. All that time and passion wasted.
“They let me go home early because it was my first day,” said Hollen, reaching for a cookie. There was red jam pressed into the middle of it, and he swiped it with his tongue before he shoved the rest in his mouth. “It was really—uh—busy, so the big boss said it would be too hard to train me today. I mostly just did paperwork and all the safety quizzes I’ve done a hundred times. You know how it goes.”
When did it get so easy to lie? Hollen smoothed his hand over his shirt as he took a seat. There was still sweat clinging to him, right along with the clamminess he had yet to shake. His bones ached, the cold so pure that he wasn’t sure how long it would linger.
“Are we celebrating?” asked Adair, going to his toes as he reached for the wine glasses in the top cupboard. They clinked together, the cheap glass polished enough that they could almost pass for something expensive when they were really a set that Hollen had discovered in a clearance bin one day.
“Not until my probation is up,” said Hollen, ducking his head to avoid Adair’s gaze. “I don’t want to jinx it.”
A moment of silence passed, but Hollen refused to look up, plucking at the edge of his shirt and toying with the seam. Gnawing at his lip, he found some sweetness there from the few cookie crumbs that remained. Adair always tried so damn hard, and yet…
“Hollen.”
He looked up, meeting Adair’s gaze. Adair had taken a seat across from him at the tiny two-person table they used for breakfast and lunch. His hands were clasped, the oven mitts next to them. “Why are you lying?”
“ He’s smart ,” said George unhelpfully. Hollen shook the comment off with a roll of his eyes before letting his shoulders slump.
“I’m sorry,” said Hollen, ducking his head again. The table was beaten up after so much use, a burn in the surface from when Hollen had accidentally almost started it on fire.
“Why did they let you go?” asked Adair. He pushed himself off his chair, looping around the table before crouching at Hollen’s feet. Seemingly without hesitation, he threw his arms around Hollen’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug. He was a few inches taller than Hollen, his hair smelling of cinnamon and butter.
“I…” Hollen had no idea how to answer that one. Their laundry facility had a serious vampire infestation? I’m pretty sure Rhys, who I assume is the assistant manager, threatened to kill me?
He’d covered up his messes so many times, but Adair was right. He wasn’t sure why he was trying to lie anymore. Every day it grated on him, each lost job just another failure to add to the tally. It wasn’t his fault, even if he took all the blame.
“Remember how you got into a fight with your grandma because she wanted us to go to church on Christmas?” asked Hollen, clasping his hands together. He was so cold, but sweat was pouring down his back, probably soaking into Adair’s arm as he tightened his grip.
“Yeah.” Adair looked up hesitantly. “That’s the only time we’ve fought in years. I cried for a week straight when she refused to speak to me like I was some sort of evil man. She just didn’t see the point. I’ve told her so many times that I don’t believe in God.”
Hollen held out his hands before Adair could get worked up. His beliefs were his beliefs. Unfortunately, Hollen didn’t have a choice but to believe in angels. “Okay, and that’s fair. But what about other stuff?”
Adair blinked, leaning on his heels and staring up at him. “Other what?”
“You know…” Hollen bit his lip, his stomach twisting. “The stuff that you might not be able to see, but some people believe they exist.” When he said it like that, he sounded like an absolute lunatic.
“Like ghosts?” Adair looked over his shoulder, his eyes going wide. “Oh shit, is this place haunted? Hell, no.” He lunged at Hollen, squeezing him tight as he trembled. “I’m sorry if someone died here. I didn’t know—I swear!” He lowered his voice into a whisper. “Did it tell us to get out?”
Hollen squeezed back, his stomach rolling. “I’m not sure if ghosts exist—I’ll have to ask.” He combed his hand through Adair’s hair until he relaxed. “But what I mean is like demons and werewolves…or vampires.”
“Oh.” Adair let out a soft sigh. “No, not at all.” There was pure relief etched onto his face when he looked up. “I think some of that stuff did exist, but they were medical conditions or mental health disorders. The women they burned as witches were probably just a little strange and progressive, but I don’t believe in magic. Did you want to binge fantasy movies or something?” Adair grinned, putting a hand on each of Hollen’s shoulders. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there is no Santa Claus. I’m the one who fills your Christmas stocking with chocolate.”
“ Magic died out a long time ago ,” said George, the voice in his head startling Hollen. Sometimes he was so loud that Hollen wondered how other people couldn’t hear him.
“Why did you flinch?” asked Adair, looking Hollen over. “If you got hurt on your first shift, I’m suing the owner.” He narrowed his eyes, his gaze settling on Hollen’s nose. Even after he’d tried to clean himself up in the alley, there was probably still blood there.
Hollen took a deep breath, his limbs quivering. “Umm.” It’s now or never. “I may or may not be slightly possessed by a teeny-tiny little demon that talks to me almost constantly.”
A beat passed, the kitchen still until Adair smiled, a laugh pushing through his lips. His eyes sparkled, and he squeezed Hollen tight, giggling as he held him.
“Funny joke,” said Adair, squeezing Hollen one last time before he released him. With the smoothness and agility of a dancer, he stood, turning to the stove and taking a peek through the door. A wave of heat and a few wisps of smoke escaped before Adair clicked the oven off with a few button pushes, donning oven mitts to retrieve the steaming pizza.
George grumbled his hatred of pizza at the same time Hollen’s stomach protested. All that melted cheese and pure carbs were exactly what he needed to warm him up, George’s hatred for it beside the point.
Hollen took a deep breath, trying to ignore the hunger in his gut. “I’m serious.” I’m possessed by a demon named George. I’m not exactly sure how it happened, but a few months ago I started hearing his voice in my head.”
Adair gave him a sharp look, letting the pizza fall to the stove top with a clatter. “You shouldn’t joke around like that. I was taken away from my mom when I was little because she was schizophrenic. You know that.”
“I know,” said Hollen. He ran a hand through his hair, the coolness clinging to him. “And I’m so sorry you had to go through that. God, I feel like such an ass.” His gut was churning with guilt, hunger completely forgotten. “I’m telling the truth. I promise, Adair. Just…ask me something only a demon would know. Let me prove it.”
“ I’m not mind-reader, if that’s the trick you’re going for ,” said George, his voice trickling down Hollen’s spine. He seemed to have perked up in Hollen’s head, his excitement palpable. “ But I know a lot of history .”
“Uh-huh,” said Adair, his shoulders stiff as he cut the pizza. “You can stop anytime, Hollen. If you’re trying to distract me from our money problem, you’re doing a crappy job.” He set the cutter to the side, leaning heavily against the stove with his head at the level of his shoulders. “Please stop.”
“Something old,” said Hollen, shuffling ahead until he was right next to Adair, the heat from the cooling oven radiating against his back. “Ask me about pyramids and stuff…or maybe dinosaurs. George, have you been to Egypt? I know nothing about it other than that there are pyramids and a sphinx.” Adair, on the other hand, loved that kind of thing. Hollen had seen him look at hieroglyphics before…for fun.
“ I was there when they were built ,” said George, a chuckle in his words. “ I may have had a bit of influence on the placement .” His presence shifted, like syrup dripping inside his mind.
“Oh, cool,” said Hollen, looking to his hand where he could have sworn he felt the soft brush of skin. Speaking to George was like answering that little voice in his thoughts that always seemed to know right from wrong. There was no lying between them or false truths—only the absolute vulnerability of reality.
It was hard to know where to look, though, when the person he was talking to was swirling in his own thoughts. A mirror just gave him the creeps, a flash of black on his skin or color in his eyes enough to put terror into his soul.
He didn’t look up from his hands, waiting for the same sensation when George would speak again. “How long did it take to build something like that? Adair probably has so many questions for you.” He looked up, his smile faltering at Adair’s expression. “He said he was there when they were built…”
His voice trailed off. The soft features on Adair’s face were stained pink, tears welling in his eyes until one spilled over to wind down his cheek. The pure betrayal on his face was enough to gut Hollen to his core, every snippet of excitement burned away to nothing.
“Stop.” Adair didn’t move to wipe the tears from his cheeks, even as more followed the first. “How could you do this to me?” The pizza wheel slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the floor in a splatter of sauce and cheese. “You know how hard my mom’s disease was on her—how scared I was about it.” He sniffed, shaking his head. “She almost killed me—twice. How could you—? I can’t believe this.” His voice wavered. “Get out of the kitchen. Just leave me alone.” Adair pressed his hands to his eyes, tears seeping past. “I don’t know why I stayed up to make you dinner when I should have just gone to sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” said Hollen, holding his hands out until they hovered in the air a few inches away from touching Adair. He flinched back as if he’d been burned. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” His chest ached, twisting harder at the sight of fresh tears.
He couldn’t break his promise to Adair—or the one he’d made to Adair’s mother in one of her few lucid moments in the brief times they’d met. “Keep him away from them. Keep him safe, and don’t you ever let him get hurt.”
George spoke up, his voice soft. “ Give it up .”
Hollen trembled, dropping his hands. “I can’t keep lying anymore. I lost the last three jobs because they thought I was crazy—because they heard me talking to myself all the time. It’s not just a little bit, like everyone does. They thought I was having full conversations with myself, even arguments sometimes. I tried to hide it, but George doesn’t shut up, and I can’t not answer. He’s in my head all the time—talking, asking questions, complaining . He’s a negative Nancy.”
Hollen took a step, settling his hands on Adair’s shoulders as he sniffed, a fresh round of tears trailing down his face. He couldn’t hold back, hugging him close and dragging in the comforting scent of his hair.
“Please believe me.” He brushed his cheek against Adair’s shoulder. “I would never hurt you.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” said Adair, leaning into him. His voice was trembling. “You need to see a doctor, Hollen. I can’t go through this—not again. I want to help you, and I can’t do that by believing this fantasy. You need help.”
George curled inside his chest, so sudden that it ached. “ No doctors. We don’t need anyone fumbling inside your thoughts like you’re insane .”
“I know. You know I don’t like doctors,” said Hollen, squeezing Adair tight. He hiccupped, sobbing against Hollen’s ear.
“That’s exactly what Mom said when she was having a crisis, Hollen. You can’t trust yourself or your thoughts right now, but you can trust me. Please go to a doctor. I’ll take you and hold your hand. Anything you want, as long as you’ll go.”
Darkness blinked over Hollen’s vision, a pressure like none-other radiating from the base of his skull as a metallic taste seeped over his tongue. He pushed away from Adair, stumbling back to clutch his head as it throbbed.
George was there, thrumming through him and filling every gap in his being that he hadn’t known existed. The sensation surrounded his prickling skin, spreading through his gut and chest as untamed fire that was bent on destruction. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think, his ears ringing and his heart thudding faster and faster. It was more than he could take, each muscle stretched over limbs that no longer felt like his own.
The poison spread, infecting everything in the same way that it would if it were dropped into a clear pond. He went to his knees, the impact aching and stinging all the way to the back of his spine where it curled in a burst of flame. George surged ahead, using every drop of agony to wrestle control, biting and snapping until his synapses ached.
His vision cleared, the kitchen and Adair’s terrified face coming into view. Hollen tried to move to brush a drop of sweat from his forehead, but his limbs were locked, his scream deafened within the sound of his own head. He couldn’t move, his limbs belonging to an entity that wasn’t him.
“ George? ” he asked. His lips didn’t move, the sound dead in his throat before it could be spoken. Instead, it echoed in his skull, plinking across the rounded walls until it was siphoned away in a depth of noise.
My hands. Hollen tried to scream at the sight, but he was wrapped tight, his wrists and ankles bound within himself. He’d always been pale, the creaminess of his skin now anything but. There were black lines etched into his flesh, stained as the darkest ink that could compete with a starless sky. Each line was beautiful and rough, symbols and designs that he had never seen, writhing to life and stamping their way until there wasn’t a square inch of him that was left untouched.
Adair flinched as George cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the room for the first time. “Five thousand years ago I carved this into rock.” His voice was deep and thick, a rock grinding against stone as he pointed to a symbol on Hollen’s wrist of a bird perched over water. It was crude but beautiful, the meaning as clear as the picture.
A gasp caught in Hollen’s throat, refusing to go farther. Hollen could tell that George somehow sensed his gasp from the way he chuckled.
That voice. It was like finally putting a sound to that nagging conscience that berated him at every move, laughing at his blunders and keeping him out of trouble. It was deep and wisping with darkness and smoke as the design on Hollen’s arm twisted into the shape of an eye.
“I did the eye next,” said George, stretching Hollen’s lips into a grin. “No one understood the humor in it then. By the time they did, it was too late.” His laugh turned dark.
Adair stumbled back, clutching the counter as his mouth fell open. One of the plates of cookies fell as he bumped it, shattering all over the floor and throwing clumps of delicious crumbs everywhere.
“I was always the one watching and the one they couldn’t see.” George strolled closer, reaching for Adair. Thick black smoke curled around his hand, dissipating to nothing as soon as it touched the air. “I’d like you to see me.”
The string snapped with a gut-wrenching tug, throwing Hollen back to the forefront of his mind. His ears popped, his legs collapsing as if his strings had been cut. The floor was inches from his cheek before he managed to throw his hands out, catching his fall with aching wrists.
Breath rushed into his lungs, and he let out a groan, rolling onto his side. The sharp scent of pizza and cookies filtered in, replacing the fire that had consumed him. Ash and darkness faded, tingling erupting over his skin as black markings faded into smoke.
He rubbed his hand where the eye was slowly melting away, expecting to see dark smudges against his fingertips. Instead, there was nothing except for an ache and a rush of blood that pounded fiercer through his veins. It retreated to an itch, then a mere glimmer that faded along with everything else.
The pale stretch of skin was as blank as it had been before, no clues left behind of the drawings that had looked so similar to hieroglyphics that they just had to be. Adair had told him the meaning of that one before, bursting out excitedly on those later nights he read on the couch.
“You could have warned me,” said Hollen, licking the bit of drool from his lips. They were cracked and sore, the taste of blood sliding over his lounge. “That was way worse than the last time.” His limbs throbbed, his wrists most of all, and his voice was scratchy from overuse.
“What the fuck was that?” Adair’s voice broke through his haze. Hollen twitched, his muscles protesting the simple action. They were stretched, like they had tried to fit over a frame so much bigger than his, their elasticity pushed to the maximum. His head thudded back against the ground a moment after he tried to lift it.
“Can you carry me to bed, baby?” Hollen asked softly, letting his eyes close. The room spun, his stomach clenching. “Never mind. I think I’m going to puke.” He turned himself over just in time, heaving onto the floor as Adair let out a distant scream.
Footsteps thudded next to his head, going softer as Adair ran from the room, headed for the bedroom. He slammed the door shut behind him, a click sounding as he turned the lock.
Gee, thanks, George.