Pandemonium

above me and below me at the same time, a bottomless corkscrewing pit, a tunnel into space. I could sense something or someone waiting for me in the tunnel—no, thousands of presences. A vast congregation. The next moment the water vanished. My eyes were closed, or else open but blind in the dark. My lips were covered by a hot weight, my legs still trapped. I knew then that the water had been a memory, a dream, but I couldn’t tell if I’d woken up.

Heat against my cock. I was hard, aching. I thrust into that heat, and my eyes opened a second time. Fully awake now. Electrically awake.

O’Connell sat astride my hips, her lips on mine, her hands pinning my shoulders. She was naked, the muscles of her neck limned in a sliver of lamplight.

I tried to sit up. Her mouth released me, but she didn’t look at my face. She put a hand on my sternum and pushed me onto my back with surprising force. I opened my mouth to speak, and she pressed a hand against my jaw, forcing the side of my head into the mattress, forcing me to look away from her. Her strength was fierce. She began to grind against me. My shorts were still on, but the bedclothes had been pushed down, trapping my ankles.

“O’Connell.” I could hardly speak with her weight on my jaw. She rocked against me and made a sound between a grunt and a sigh.

“O’Connell—”

She didn’t answer. She moved again and the grunt became something like a laugh. I screamed through gritted teeth, twisted my arm out of her grip. Pushed her away from me, sending her tumbling off the bed. She yelped as she hit the floor. I scrambled off the bed and turned to face her, my back pressed against the cold door.

“What the fuck!” O’Connell yelled.

“Who are you?” I said.

She stared up at me—looking me in the face for the first time since I’d woken up. In the dim light I couldn’t make out her eyes.

A long moment, then she said, “Del, it’s me.” She scooted back until she was sitting up against the other bed, one knee drawn up.

“O’Connell. Siobhan.” Her voice sounded the same.

“How do I know?” I said.

“You already know.”

I felt for the light switch, flicked it on. She squinted against the light.

I’d known with the Shug. And I’d known that the Piper at the Hyatt was an imposter. I realized I could always tell, from the Painter possession at the airport, to the handful of other possessed people I’d seen in my life—even Valis. But O’Connell was definitely no demon. I exhaled. Slumped to the floor. The dirty carpet crunched against my butt. “I’m sorry,” I said. I ran a hand through my hair. “I thought . . . I just . . .”

She stood up, walked to me, and crouched so that her face was level with mine. Her hand moved, and I thought she was going to touch my cheek, but she only wrapped her arm around her knee. She studied my face.

“I know what you thought,” she said. “I’ve thought the same things myself.”

“What, with me?”

“With everyone. I was possessed at least fourteen times, Del. I’d wake up in a hospital room holding the face of a dead woman, knowing that my lips had just touched hers. That I’d just murdered her. Sometimes I lost an entire week. The years between my tenth birthday and my twelfth are riddled with holes. I learned that anyone can disappear at any moment, replaced by a monster.”

“You’re too old for the Little Angel now,” I said. “You should be safe from her.”

“Maybe from her, but not the others. I became an exorcist, didn’t I? Looked too many demons in the face. Once you’ve been noticed, once you’re familiar to them, they like to find you again. You come to understand that they can take you at any time, anyone you’re close to. So. You stay on guard. You start watching for that change of expression, that alien voice.”