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There was a glow coming up the stairs.

“I know it’s cringe, but don’t laugh at it or anything,” Annie said. “Close your eyes.”

“I can either walk down the stairs or close my eyes, you gotta choose.”

There was some whispering, then Annie darted up the stairs, red-faced and grinning. She clasped his arm.

Hollis closed their eyes.

He was led to the middle of the room, and Annie guided him to sit down. It was bright and warm.

“Can I open my eyes now?”

“Not yet.”

Annie scrambled across from him.

It smelled like burning herbs.

“Okay... now.”

Hollis opened his eyes.

There were candles everywhere, on every surface.

Yulia and Annie were sitting in front of him. Yulia had a hollowed calabash and the chicken from earlier for whatever reason, and Annie had a necklace wrapped around her arm. Yulia had painted her face in white chalk stripes, which was as disorienting to see as it was beautiful.

Wow.

“This is cool, but I think it’s going to be a fire hazard,” Hollis said.

Yulia didn’t respond. Instead, she threw the contents of the calabash over him, then chanted, “Ku ro nbe ye!”

“What the fuck—” It was burning their eyes. “Is there some kind of oil in this?”

“GET OUT OF HIM!” Annie shrieked.

Shit!

Hollis started to stand, but their knees were so weak suddenly. Walt was drowning them in terror so deep Hollis could hardly breathe.

Hollis, what’s happening?

He didn’t know.

Everything hurt, the room tilted, and then their forehead was pressed to the floor. The sound of Annie’s and Yulia’s yelling was drowned out by Hollis’s own scream. It felt like his spine was being torn out.

Annie pressed her hand to his forehead, and something hard dug into his skin. But that didn’t matter; the crucifix didn’t do anything; it was the touch . They made contact, and Hollis felt Walt leave.

Roughly, Walt was torn from him.

Hollis’s skull pounded, excruciating, and he collapsed to the floor from the weight of holding his own body alone again, and he hated it.

He hated it.

“Walt!”

“Annie?! Annie!” Yulia was shrieking.

Hollis opened his eyes, and through the haze of tears, he could see Annie curled over herself, arms wrapped around her stomach.

“Come back.” Hollis reached out for Walt, but he was too far.

Annie vomited. First orange and full of fish stew, then foamy and yellow. Her face was white, eyes rolling.

Hollis dragged his body across the ground. Each heave of his legs felt like dragging bricks. He was so heavy; how could he have forgotten? Everything hurt, but the silence of his head was worse, the rattling emptiness of it; his heart was breaking.

Yulia was picking up Annie, moving her, moving Walt away from him.

Hollis stretched out his hand and hooked the corner of Annie’s sneaker and pulled as hard as he could.

“Get away from her!” Yulia screamed.

Hollis didn’t care.

With one last effort, he grabbed Annie’s ankle.

“We had—

a deal!

Walt slammed back into him so hard, Hollis sat up and skidded a foot backward. Annie immediately returned back to normal and took a deep breath. She pushed herself out of Yulia’s lap and coughed the vomit out of her mouth.

Hollis was shaking. He wanted to run but didn’t think he could take the stairs. Walt was sobbing inside him. Hollis hadn’t had control of his entire body like this in too long, and it felt wrong. It felt unnatural.

Yulia was rubbing Annie’s back and gaping at Hollis in terror.

“I’m sorry,” Hollis said. “I’m... I’ll be back.”

He stumbled a few times but managed to make it across the room into the downstairs bathroom, then he locked the door.