“Fuck,” Mark mumbled as he turned to run for his life.

He sprinted back to the hall. He could hear the wailing of the spirit close on his heels. The ghost was getting closer. Mark turned the corner and realized it was a dead end. He contemplated jumping over the banister to the floor below. There was a good chance that it would break his legs. Then he'd be in a world of pain. No, that wasn't an option. There had to be something else. He saw it. an open door.

As Mark rushed into the open door, he almost ran straight into Marco, who was filling a container with kerosene.

“Mark? What is it?” Marco asked.

“Salt!” Mark cried just too late.

The spirit gracefully glided into the room with its claws extended towards Mark. Mark Dove out of the way, narrowly avoiding the specter. Marco wasn't quite so lucky. The spirit flew right into him and vanished. He fell to the floor with a thud.

Marco began to violently spasm. His arms and legs bent at horrible, unnatural angles. His jaw popped in and out of its socket. Mark watched in horror as Marco’s head began to twist around in such a way that it looked like he would break his own neck. His eyes rolled back into his head as he began to smash his own skull into the floor repeatedly. Blood was flowing down his face, coating his skin and his clothes with crimson. Marco was babbling nonsense as he writhed on the floor. Then suddenly, he stopped every movement.

Marco laid rigidly on the floor. Even his eyes did not move. All of his babbling had stopped. A moment of silence passed, and then several more.

“Marco? You alright, Buddy?” Mark asked nervously as he took a step away.

Suddenly, Marco’s left eye began to slowly shift to look towards Mark. Quickly after, the right eye followed. Mark began to slowly move backwards. Marco's entire head swiveled until it too was facing Mark.

Mark felt a hand grab his arm. He spun around and found Jennifer pulling on him. She looked like she was in a raw panic.

“Run!” She shouted.

Mark didn't need to be told twice. He bolted out of the room, just behind Jennifer. Jennifer turned and slammed the door to the room shut. She scooped up an ornate chair and propped it against the doorknob.

“What happened to him?” Mark asked.

“It's the bride. She possessed his body. We have to kill him before he escapes!”

“Kill him?” Mark asked.

“We have to. He's too dangerous to leave alive. He'll come back,” Jennifer answered.

She unslung her bow from her shoulder and knocked an arrow.

“But he's trapped in the room, right?” Mark asked.

“No, that door won't hold him for long. When the bride takes your body, you become stronger, faster, and more dangerous.”

As if on cue, the door buckled as something slammed against it. It shook again and again. Finally, the door gave out and shattered into splinters of wood.

Marco climbed out through the shattered door on his knees. He began to climb awkwardly to his feet. His face was pale as snow, and his eyes glowed a shining emerald green. Jennifer pulled back the bow and fired. Mark watched as an arrow sank deep into Marco's shoulder. A trickle of dark black blood began to ooze from the wound.

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Marco started to laugh as he stared at the arrow stuck in his shoulder. Slowly, the laugh shifted into desperate sobs.

“Ulysses? I thought you loved me,” he cried out.

Marco's face twisted into a look of rage. He pulled the arrow free from his flesh and tossed it to the ground. The thick black blood began a steady flow down his arm from the now-open wound. He began to lumber towards them. Jennifer pulled the bow back to fire. Mark threw a hand in front of her.

“Wait. I won't let anyone else die for me. Let me try to get through to him,” he said.

Before Jennifer could protest, Mark took a few steps toward Marco and held a hand out in a calming gesture.

“Hey, Marco. It's me, Mark. You're okay,”

“You left me alone. How could you?” Marco asked.

“I'm not who you think I am.”

“Liar! You told me you loved me, and yet you abandoned me!” Marco screamed.

Only the voice was no longer his own. It was layered with the shrill voice of the bride. Before Mark could react, Marco rushed forward with blinding speed and grabbed him by the neck. He hoisted Mark up off the ground as if he weighed nothing at all. Mark could feel the hand squeezing on his neck, crushing his windpipe. He clawed at Marco's hand so hard that he tore away from the skin there. Soon, blood coated his hands, but Marco wouldn't let go.

Mark felt the corners of his vision fading to black. His hand fell limp, too weak to scratch anymore. He was going to die.

“This is what you deserve,” Marco snarled.

Suddenly, an arrow sank into Marco's gut. He let out a howl of rage. With incredible strength, Marco threw Mark aside like a rag doll. Mark smashed through the wooden banister and fell to the floor below. He hit the ground hard and felt what little breath he had knocked from his lungs. His head swam, and his sides ached with pain. He gasped for air, finally able to breathe.

He sat up, still gulping air, and looked just in to see Jennifer leap from the floor above. Mark moved forward and, on a raw reflex, caught her, sending them both tumbling to the floor. The two of them quickly made it to their feet, groaning in pain. He noticed that Jennifer was clutching her arm. Blood was seeping between her fingers. Mark could see three distinct claw marks gouged into her flesh.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

“I'm fine. I think I pissed it off. I can't pull back the string anymore. It's got to be you or we're fucked,” Jennifer said as she handed him her bow and quiver.

“I don't know how to use a bow,” Mark admitted.

“Just do it like I showed you. Pull it back and let it go. Just like a gun.”

Mark nodded and fitted an arrow into the string. A haunting, split voice echoed from the floor above them.

“Running away again. Leaving me again,” the possessed Marco cried.

He appeared at the edge of the broken banister and looked down at them. His eyes were filled with anger and hate. Then he jumped down, smashing the wood floor below into pieces. He stood tall and seemed uninjured. A fall like that should have broken his legs, but he stood tall.

“You took everything from me,” Marco cried.

He began to levitate off the floor as if being hoisted up on strings. The candles in the chandelier that hung over the stairs burst into flame. Windows shattered all through the building, and the floorboards below began to creek as if being pulled free by invisible hands. Fog began to roll in from the shattered windows. It clung around Marco like a vortex of white mist. Marco held a hand out towards them. It was no longer human but a gnarled mess of bone and claws.

Mark pulled the bow back just as Marco began to fly towards them. Mark took a deep breath, aimed the bow, and fired. The arrow whistled through the air and struck Marco in the head. He fell back to the floor with a hard thud. Blood leaked from the back of his head. He didn't get up or cry out in rage. Marco and the bride that had possessed him were dead.

***

“After that, me and Jennifer gathered what kerosene we could and left the mansion behind,” Mark said, "The next day, we waited for Marco to come back, but..."

“But he didn't come back, right?” Grace asked.

“No. No, he didn't come back.”

Grace nodded.

“I'm sorry that your friend died. It had to be hard. I mean, when Stevey died... It gets to you,” she said.

“After a while… You get used to people you care about dying.”

Grace seemed to finally understand for the first time.

“You're expecting the rest of us to die too, aren't you?"

Mark didn't answer.

“I think we should get some sleep,” He said, “Tomorrow is an important day. We're making the final preparations for the mines.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Grace said.

That night, as she tried to fall asleep, Grace realized she was afraid. It had been so long since she truly felt fear. He had to be wrong. They weren't going to die. Not this time. This time, Mark wouldn't be left alone.