Possess Me Please Read Free Page A

helplessness that a child felt at the hands of an adult who should be the protector instead of the inflictor of pain.
    Relief bled through him like thick molasses, something he’d not experienced in fifty years. It was almost time to resume his duties. The witch’s soul was slipping from her earthbound body. He could feel it happening at this moment, and when she drew her last breath, the spell would be broken.
    He took a deep breath and felt the invisible ropes binding him slowly unwind, tendril by tendril. So close . The witch was nearing her last breath. He waited in anticipation of his freedom.
    Then, as suddenly as he had been bound, he was freed.
    Cyrus sighed in relief and immediately began hunting for a meat suit, as he liked to call his earthly host.
    His nearly invisible form—appearing to anyone who might spy him as nothing more than a trail of mist—floated through the streets until he found a particularly seedy part of town. A bar with a large neon sign blinking over it that used to say Ruby’s before the B burnt out sat like a beacon of invitation. About thirty motorcycles were parked out front, and the deep thumping base of music playing inside spilled out into the streets and floated through the night breeze.
    Yeah, this was the kind of place one could find some evil son of a bitch to possess. If Cyrus had had a nose, he was sure he’d be able to smell the depravity wafting in the air.
    He drifted inside and floated over the occupants. The waitresses were hardened to the pawing and rude behavior of the men, and appeared worn, frazzled, and tired. Probably had a houseful of kids to get home to and a deadbeat husband lying on the couch drinking beer and watching sports—or porn—on a tiny television with aluminum foil wrapped around the rabbit ears.
    The place smelled of stale cigarette smoke, booze, piss, and body odor. The brown paneling was old and peeling in several places, and the wood floor had several mismatched boards from patch jobs. Most of the ugly, chocolate-brown bar stools had tears in the seats, and the bartender was sitting behind the bar puffing on a cigar.
    Cyrus observed the occupants for a while. Three drunks—two with beer bellies, and the third an old skinny guy—sat at the bar, each with a glazed-over sloshed dullness in their eyes. When he peeked into their minds—mind reading was a curse and perk all rolled into one neat ball—there was nothing in them but the fog of a blissful high. Ten greasy bikers surrounded the pool table, placing bets on the next shot, anticipation running high of a possible win and even higher at the prospects of a fight. A group of men playing cards sat at two tables pushed together, holding on to the last shred of hope that enough money would be won to buy the next fix of drugs. None of them were prime prospects, but then…
    Sitting in a dark corner were a man and a petite, red-haired woman. Cyrus drifted closer and listened to their thoughts and conversation.
    The man’s name was Jimmy and the woman’s, Daisy. Not that names mattered much since he used his own name, Cyrus Drakar, once he took possession of a body. He was a pretty decent looking guy—tall, thick black hair, and clear gray eyes. Cyrus didn’t want to be vain, but, hell, if he was going to putter around in someone else’s body for a while, he wanted to be good looking. If he took the man’s body, the first act he’d perform in his new digs would be showering with lots of soap.
    “Look, you’ll do what I tell you.” Jimmy’s voice came low and threatening. “You understand?”
    “Jimmy, please don’t ask me to do this.” Daisy wrung her hands then suddenly stopped, dropping them to her lap as if trying to avoid drawing attention to the action.
    Jimmy slapped her across the face then leaned close. “I’m not asking.”
    Daisy didn’t cry. She sat, numb, as if used to the abuse.
    Apparently, Jimmy had a drug distributing business going on and wanted Daisy to play whore