“I told you so. You are all going to die.”
When the two voices eventually died down, Elliot wasn’t sure what happened at first. Time turned into a spiral, and he had no idea whether it had been five or fifty minutes. The priest’s gray eyes met his briefly, but the man got to his feet, as if unwilling to look at Elliot any longer. “That… is all. I would advise this young man to see a doctor.”
Laurent’s mouth was set in an expression of determination, but that was no use. Fane was still etched inside of Elliot’s bones, and—Elliot knew this deep down—about to grow roots until there was as little Elliot in his own body as there was now of Fane.
He choked on a sob and twisted his neck to hide from prying eyes. The pain inside him ran so deep he found it difficult to care about anyone’s judgment anymore.
A warm, steady hand closed around his wrist. It was Knight’s, and he knew that from squeezing it intimately so many times.
“Could a professional exorcist help in this kind of situation?” Laurent asked, but the priest exhaled deeply.
“He should be assessed by a medical professional first. Only then would anyone agree to perform the rite. And besides, there is only a handful of exorcists in this country.”
“Maybe we should try someone of a different faith?” Knight suggested.
Elliot covered his ears, not even wanting to hear any of these discussions. He’d brought this upon himself. He’d called William Fane’s soul back into the world and invited the vile creature into his heart. It was his own damn fault that he was now saddled with a monster sinking his claws into Elliot’s body. Like many times before, when Elliot’s dream relationships went sour, Fane was becoming increasingly abusive, and he wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left of Elliot’s self-respect and dignity.
Knight’s hand moved to cup Elliot’s head, gently rubbing his scalp, but despite the soothing touch and the hands pressed tightly against his ears, Elliot could still hear an argument unfold.
“What you’re doing is utterly irresponsible. You need to promise me this boy receives the right care,” the priest raged until Beast made the commitment to do just that.
Slowly, Elliot calmed down despite the thorn stuck deep in his heart, and by the time Beast called Knight over, he was almost fine to stay on the mattress on his own.
“We’ll be right outside,” Knight said, and Elliot nodded with a sigh. “We’ll lock you in for your safety.”
Elliot rolled over to his back as soon as the lock clicked, and all he could hear was hushed voices outside. Beast had taken the flashlight with him, and now only a glimmer of light came from under the door. Fane’s half-translucent shoes couldn’t block it as he approached. Sweaty and tired, Elliot couldn’t even care anymore about the cruel words that were surely about to fall on him.
He just pushed his face into the mattress, breathing in its stale odor. Only the soft, masculine tone of Knight’s voice gave him a tiny hint of hope for the future.
“That was an amusing spectacle,” Fane said, and Elliot flinched when the tip of Fane’s shoe dug into his ribs. “Such a pathetic sight. I should have made you soil yourself in front of him.”
Elliot swallowed and rolled away, struck by the menace of that suggestion. Hadn’t he suffered enough? “Leave me alone,” he whispered. “You’re still here, nothing happened, and it wasn’t even my idea.” He needed to start being more agreeable, even if he wanted the ghost gone, because otherwise Fane would only unleash more cruelty upon Elliot.
He could physically sense the grim presence above him, but when Fane pulled up his head by the hair, twisting it painfully, it was still a shock to Elliot’s system. Fane’s breath was cold and slimy on Elliot’s ear when he whispered.
“Or maybe I should choke you to death with my own manhood. It would be a fitting end for a treacherous cunt like you.”
Elliot’s anger flared up. He reached up to grab Fane’s hand, only to realize it was his own. He kept forgetting Fane was only an illusion projected by his wretched brain. “Well, you don’t have a dick right now, do you? And if you actually had a body, I bet your dick wouldn’t be big enough to choke anyone.”
Fane’s lips curved with cruelty. “It is big enough to make any man bleed.”
Elliot didn’t dare open his eyes. The man he’d idolized as a concept for so many years wasn’t as attractive in real life. The deaths of some boys two hundred years ago had been too abstract to care about them, and the man standing behind the crimes too alluring for Elliot to see them for what they were.
Horrors, torture, pain, and suffering inflicted for William Fane’s fancy.