Page 16

Next, I watch the tale of a young woman trapped in a castle by a terrifying beast and his singing household implements. Again, the stirring in my chest when the girl tells this monster that she loves him and he returns to his human form.

Then, a film about a girl with absurdly long yellow hair, who escapes from her cruel mother with the help of a wanted criminal. In spite of his dubious character, they fall in love, and my chest spasms again when he sacrifices his own life to free her from the hair-related curse.

I understand that these films are meant to stir the emotions of humans, but I possess neither feelings nor a real heart, and so I am unsure why my physical form reacts this way. Yet another eventuality that was not covered in my training. I shall have many new experiences to relate to my superiors when I return to the Seventh Tower. In order to rid myself of the strange sensations, I switch television channels, hoping to get a better sense of more realistic human behaviors.

When Theodore awakens in the morning, he tears around the apartment, gathering articles of dirty clothing. He puts them into a large, white machine in another room, which makes a horrific sound thathe insists this is normal. Normal or not, it sets my teeth on edge and puts me in a foul mood.

“Did you eat all that food last night?” he asks, surveying the pile of empty containers on the table in front of the couch.

“Yes. It was quite satisfactory. I should like more.”

He laughs softly. “Well, I don’t have a lot of food here. We need to get to the church before Mass gets out, but I can stop at the grocery store on the way home. I probably need to shop anyway.”

“IfI am still here,” I say pointedly. “Perhaps the priest can perform an exorcism immediately.”

“Yeah, that would probably be best. Also, when we go out, I need you to stay…out of sight. Inside my body, I guess.”

I give him a knowing smile. “Ah, in case someone should see us together and inform Rosalind?”

“Yes, I don’t need–wait, how did you know that’s her full name?”

“It is written here,” I say, picking up a piece of mail from the side table. “Rosalind Parker and Theodore Keating.”

“Ok good.” He sounds relieved. “I thought maybe you could…dig through my memories or something.”

“It is probably good for both of us that I cannot,” I say with another grin. He lets out a breathy laugh, then goes back to deal with the horrific-sounding white machine, stating that he requires clean garments in order to leave his apartment.

I consider his request that I stay hidden during our excursion. This could be my final chance to take hold of his mind, and I should not waste it. Being exorcised is not an ideal way to return home. It is not a loss, but it is certainly not a triumph either. It would be better for me to complete my mission, but Theodore’s emotional state is quite grim. Even though he smiles and laughs sometimes, and appears to become agitated with me, when I am inside him, I feel nothing. If I can find a way to elicit a true, emotional reaction from him–something raw and realand bone-deep–then I could seize control, and I now know exactly how to do it. I stand up and slip down the hall toward his bedroom, where the door is slightly ajar.

“Theodore!” I call out.

There is a slight twinge of annoyance when he answers, “Yes?”

“What type of weather is it outdoors today?” I ask, taking a step closer and shifting so I can see into his room, but he cannot see me. The previous night, when I walked in on him changing, I did not see anything in the dim lighting, but now his body is on near-full display.

I have never seen a living human like this before. By the time their souls reach me in the Seventh Tower, they are contorted, burned, scarred by sin; mere twisted shadows of their physical forms. Theodore is certainly none of those things. The planes of his chest and stomach do not resemble some of the males I observed on the television, with a robust, well-defined musculature, but he is certainly young and fit. Wavy, chestnut hair hangs unkempt around his eyes, and splatters of dark freckles, numerous as stars, cover his shoulders. One of his upper arms bears the tattooed image of six beautiful red flowers, and I have the urge to trace the lines of ink with my fingers.

When he turns toward me, I cannot help but run my eyes along the V-shaped ridges of muscle at his hips, which frame a line of soft hair that disappears beneath his waistband. I suppose, if I had to be stuck with any human, this one at least has some visual appeal. Theodore pulls a shirt over his torso, and I avert my gaze while he looks at his telephone screen.

“Uh…it’s chilly,” he replies. “Don’t you have an internal heating system I could use though?” He chuckles at his own joke, and I find myself smiling.

“Yes, I could keep you warm,” I answer, just as he opens his bedroom door and nearly slams into me. We stand a few inches apart, and he looks down with a curious expression in his bright blue eyes, which I nownotice are flecked with little shafts of green light, like the pieces of smooth glass hanging on a string in his window.

“Were you watching me change?” he asks, a crease between his eyebrows. “Given how angry and violent you are, I kinda figured you were some kind of wrath demon, not lust.”

I turn my face up and flash my teeth. “I am now, but I have also spent time in the Second Tower, many centuries ago.”

“Ah, so itislikeDante’s Inferno?” he says, moving past me and down the hall. The skipping sensation in my chest returns even though I am not watching a film, and I pause for a moment before following, wondering where it might have come from this time.

“Who is Dante, and why does he own an inferno?”

“No, no,” Theodore laughs, pulling on a pair of shoes, “it’s an old poem about the different circles or levels of Hell. The first circle is the most ‘mild’, for unbaptized people, and then each level gets worse as you go down. I think there’s nine all together. It was one of Ros’s favorite books. That’s what she named the cats after.” He motions to where the animals, who he informed me before are called Dante and Virgil, sit in the hallway, watching us closely.

“Intriguing,” I reply. “We have no levels or circles, only our great towers, which stand watch around the eternal lake of flames.”

“I don’t think I want the details,” Theodore says as he puts on a jacket and a scarf. “I’m ready to go if you could…make yourself scarce, please.” Ah, yes. He does not wish to be seen with me in public. I pull myself inward, into the shadows, and return to the cavity I have created inside his body. His heartbeat is irregular and his breathing quickened, something lingering on the edge of his mind. Not enough for me to take control, but enough of an emotional stirring that all my instincts turn toward it, like a hound scenting a rabbit.

You are anxious,Theodore,I say softly.