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D amien! Damien, please!

I try to cry out, but the voice is only in my head. He’s walking toward me, this man who looks like Damien. Who is Damien.

And yet he isn’t.

Basil.

The air presses against my skin, heavy and damp, as if it’s trying to hold me in place. Damien moves toward me, his steps deliberate, his face twisted in a way I don’t recognize, as if he’s fighting something horrible.

As if he’s fighting himself.

Another step. Then another. And still not a word. Nothing to let me know if he’s still my husband. If he’s Basil. Or if he’s someone else.

Or something worse.

“Damien,” I whisper, my voice trembling. My body feels frozen, locked between fear and disbelief. “Please, it’s me.”

But is it?

Fight, a voice in my head whispers. Fight like I never did.

I glance down at the bodice of the dress I’m wearing. I reach up to touch the carefully styled waves that frame my face. I trace my finger over my lips, then look at my fingertip, now smeared with blood-red lipstick.

I don’t remember. I don’t have any memory of dressing this way, and I shift to the side so that I can see myself in the full-length mirror. It’s me. Thank god, it’s me.

And yet there’s something else there, too. A shimmer. Vivien.

Help him fight. The voice is only in my head, and I tremble from the desperation and terror. He is fighting. Help him. Don’t let Basil win. Don’t meet my fate.

I release a slow breath as a small respite of calm washes over me, only to be ripped away by a new voice, dark and slithering. Don’t trust her. Nothing is what it seems.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to trust. I don’t even know if the voices are real or if I’m going crazy.

All I can do is look to Damien—my life. My love. The only person I have ever fully trusted, yet right now, I can see the battle raging inside him, and I know that he hears the voices, too. But he doesn’t have Vivien. I don’t know why, but I’m certain she’s only with me, and that means he’s fighting the oily darkness alone.

He takes an anguished step forward, his face a battlefield. I can see it—the man I love fighting against something dark and cruel. Basil.

Or maybe something worse.

His hands tremble at his sides, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with rage and something else. Pain. Desperation.

And then he’s himself.

For the briefest flash, his eyes soften, and I see the love that I know so well. “Take … it … off.” The words seem forced out of him, as if he’s fighting to speak. “Have to … hurry…The sn—”

I scream, then scramble away as his body contorts even as he lunges for me. No. It isn’t him who is after me, it’s the creature inside him.

“ Go!” The cry is ripped out of him, followed by a howl of pain that breaks my heart. But I go—I go like he said, racing to the bathroom, then slamming the door shut behind me as I try to figure out what I’m supposed to do.

Take it off.

Take what off?

Unsure, I strip off Vivien’s gown and use the silky material to wipe off my make-up. Then I scrub my face until I can look in the mirror and see only me.

A hard knock sounds at the door, making the wood shake. “ Bitch! ”

It’s Damien’s voice, and yet it’s not.

“Damien.” I choke his name out past the tears, my voice trembling. “I don’t know what to do. Please, please. I don’t know what to do.”

“ Nothing, you little bitch. I’m finally free of you.” It’s no longer his voice. It’s cold and slithery, and I think I’m going to throw up because he’s not Damien any longer and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make it better. I don’t know how to bring him back.

You can’t. He’s mine now. The voice is in my head. Not Vivien, but something vile and evil. Soon, you will be, too.

“No!” The scream bursts out of me even as I feel icy tendrils caressing my flesh, trying to squeeze inside me. To become me.

How? How do I make it stop? How do I wake up from this nightmare?

Take it off .

I remember Damien’s words. He’d been fighting the demon to speak. To tell me something. Take it off .

But the only thing I’m wearing now is a bra. I’m not even wearing panties. Just my diamond earrings and the—

Yes!

The snake bracelet.

Even as the thought enters my mind, the door bursts open.

Damien .

It’s him. The man who held me through my darkest moments. The man who loves me.

Then his face contorts and his fists clench, and I scurry back against the counter, terrified that this time the demon has won.

His hand tightens around the towel rack while the other clutches the door frame. “Hurry.” His voice is rough. Guttural. “Get it off. Destroy it.”

I look down at my wrist, where the snake bracelet gleams in the dim light. It feels hot, the metal burning into my skin as if it’s trying to become a part of me. Panic rises in my chest as I claw at the clasp. “I can’t,” I say, my voice cracking. “Damien, I can’t. It won’t come off.”

I meet his eyes— Damien’s eyes . He’s fighting, but I can see that he’s losing. And somehow I know that if I can’t get this bracelet off, then the demon will consume both of us. Worse, we’ll be Vivien and Carlton all over again.

“I need your help,” I whisper as I yank at the clasp. “I can’t get it off.” I hear the panic in my voice even as I try to uncoil the snake. As the bracelet begins to burn, growing hotter and hotter, until I can smell my own flesh searing.

“I don’t know what to do,” I say, my voice tight with pain. “I don’t know—”

“ Now, dammit” His voice is hard, filled with loss and regret. “I’m losing myself. It’s consuming me. It’s making me disappear.”

My heart shatters. I want to run to him, to hold him, to kiss him until he’s my Damien again. But this isn’t a fairy tale. This is a nightmare. It’s the freaking Blair Witch Project or Saw or—

Oh, god! It’s The Exorcist.

I practically leap toward the counter. But he grabs the strap of my bra, yanking me back, my fingers only brushing the toothpaste cup on the counter.

But that’s enough.

It topples, shattering on the tile floor and revealing the crucifix I’d dropped in there before.

I lunge for it, my hand closing around the cool metal as Damien’s arm goes around my waist, pulling me toward him. Except he isn’t Damien now. I know that.

More, I know that I have to bring him back. That I can bring him back.

With a cry, I bring the crucifix down on the bracelet. The clasp snaps, and the bracelet falls to the floor with a metallic clatter.

A deafening howl fills the room as a rush of icy wind swirls around us. I stagger back, watching in horror as the wind twists into a dark, writhing mass. It shoots out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. I hear glass shattering, then silence.

And then the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard—“Nikki?”

I whip around, tears streaming down my face. He’s on his knees, his chest heaving. He rises up, his eyes meeting mine, clear and steady. And for the first time in days, I see him. Truly him.

And I know that I’m once again truly me.

I throw myself into his arms, and he wraps me in his embrace, holding me close, our hearts beating together, as one. As we should be.