Page 103 of Feral Possession

Well, crapola. Celeste was right. They were totally after her.

“What’s the plan?” Celeste whispered.

Dove hitched her shoulders. “Save Bishop. Save ourselves. Find Marcus.”

“It’s a little short on details.” Celeste screwed up her face.

“We’ll figure it out on the way.” Dove scanned the crowd for Helen’s men. “All clear. Come on. I know a shortcut.”

With Celeste’s hand firmly in her grasp, Dove ran to Marcus’s private elevator and took it to the ground floor. Together, they bolted down the hallway and out the arena door.

“Oh, goddess,” Celeste cried out, gasping for breath.

Ahead of them, in the cage, Bishop struggled to stand. Deep gashes marred his chest. Blood trickled down his perfect abs. His hulked-out opponent was bloody as well but still going strong. He stormed across the mat, grabbed Bishop, and heaved him into the unforgiving bars. Bones crunched. Bishop landed in a heap of bruised flesh.

“We have to get him out of there.” They raced to the cage door. Dove grasped the latch, but it didn’t budge. On the mechanism was a steel-plated lock. “You have got to be kidding me. They actually lock this thing?” she shouted, anger heating her insides.

Tears welled in Celeste’s eyes. “I could cast an entry spell, but it will take too long.”

“Come here.” Dove dragged her closer and shoved her fingers into her curls.

“Dove! What are you—” Celeste squawked, wincing when Dove pulled a strand of hair.

“Sorry, no time to be gentle.” Dove bent her stolen bobby pins and jabbed them in the keyhole. “It’s a straightforward lock. Beginner stuff. I’ve totally got this. Just be ready once I open the door.”

“Ready how?” Celeste yelled. “I make lotion and sell clothing for a living!”

“Not today,” Dove growled.

Bishop’s deep tenor voice registered above her panic. “Dove? Celeste? What are you doing? Get out of here.”

“Not without you,” Dove said through gritted teeth.

“Do not open that door,” Bishop snarled in an otherworldly tone.

Dove shivered but kept at the keyhole. “Too late.” In her nimble fingers, the tumblers aligned. She popped the lock free and heaved open the door. “Move your ass, soldier,” she shouted. “Celeste, give him some cover.”

“You’re insane,” Celeste screeched, then threw her glowing hands up.

The monster’s head swiveled in their direction. He leveled a gonna-eat-you-and-chew glare on them.

“Any time now,” Dove shouted at her friend.

“I don’t work well under pressure!” Purple light shot down the witch’s arms, traveling from shoulder to fingertip before blasting outward.

In front of the snarling monster, an explosion erupted. Covering his massive body, a lavender mushroom cloud of glitter funneled skyward. Butterflies flitted from the cloud, heading for the upper levels of the arena.

Celeste glanced her way and hitched her shoulders. “Bath bomb. It was all I could think of.”

Cheering echoed behind them. Oh, dear Lord, did the crowd linger to enjoy the show? Morons.

Bishop tumbled free of the cage, hitting the ground in front of her while the monster coughed and gagged. “Lock it in,” he snarled.

Dove winged the door closed, coughing on a puff of lavender-scented smoke. Before she could shove the latch, the door slammed back on its hinges. Iron smacked her shoulder. Pain erupted, and she fell to the floor.

Next to the broken bodyguard, she rolled to her back, peering through a purple cloud.

Framed in the doorway was a creature straight from every child’s nightmare. The kind parents fabricated to keep small children from disobeying. The feral monster angled his shoulder and ducked beneath the cage door.

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