Devil's Plaything

Capabilities

Mira couldn't make sense of anything.

Aiden's prison room shifted into a different space before her very eyes. Her surroundings had so abruptly changed that her mind was having trouble sorting itself into a time and place it could identify.

With each passing second, it became clearer that she wouldn't recognize where she was. From its atmosphere to the way it smelled, there was nothing familiar about the bedroom that surrounded her now.

An instinct to panic cut through her confusion, raw and demanding. It overtook her senses, sharpening and then distorting them repeatedly. The only thing that remained consistent was her own fear.

Don't be afraid, a disembodied voice filtered through that panic. The voice was not her own, but still, it managed to quell her.

"I'm not afraid of you, Aiden." It was that same, unfamiliar voice that had been in her head. But this time, it came from her own lips. Her body turned without Mira willing it to do so.

Aiden was standing in front of her in the white-walled, nearly-empty bedroom where Mira now found herself. He held a hunting knife in his hand, grasping it so tightly that his fingers were turning red.

Perhaps Mira would have recoiled, but this other presence had entered her mind, and it was gaining more control over her thoughts and actions with each passing moment.

This other presence wasn't frightened of Aiden. In fact, it was just curious.

Would he do it? It wondered. Is he actually capable of killing me?

"You will be afraid of me, Alena," Aiden bit out.

Hearing that name was all it took for the tides of her mind to settle, for that push-and-pull of consciousness to wane. Finally, there was clarity.

Now, she was Alena. And in this "now," it was November of 1978. Alena couldn't recall the exact date. Perhaps it was the 22nd? Perhaps it was a Wednesday?

She turned from Aiden again, back to the laundry she had been folding in piles on top of her bed. Aiden had broken her front door when he stormed in, but she would worry about fixing that later.

After all, Alena was a demon; if Aiden did have it in himself to kill her, she would survive it. And after she returned from death, she would just have to buy a better lock.

But of course, Aiden didn't know that killing her would only be temporary. At this point, he was still a human—although that wouldn't be the case for much longer.

She could hear Aiden's breathing grow louder as his anger crescendoed. "Did you ever care about me?"

Alena turned to him, aggravated. He had the right to be upset, but no one ever had the right to be ridiculous. "Of course, I care about you."

Aiden took a lumbering step in her direction. She looked at his feet curiously, then back to his eyes. Adulthood had changed everything about him but his eyes. Alena had always found comfort in their consistency. Even now, she could see that familiar, profound soulfulness peering out at her.

But that soul was no longer his.

She had taken that ownership from him.

"You manipulated me." Each word was abrasive, as if he was trying to weaponize his voice. He had never spoken to her like this before. Like he hated her.

"I did," she said.

"I gave you my soul because you told me you would die otherwise. And you were lying."