Page 107 of Feral Possession

“Pumpernickel,” Dove whispered, and the room went black.

Twenty-Six

Dove lay on her back, peering up at the fairy lights she’d strung across her ceiling in her former bedroom. With the threat against Vivian’s life resolved, she’d made great progress with the women’s shelter she’d planned to build. Yesterday, Dove and Vivian had reunited in the auditorium of the new building where Vivian was teaching a class. Dove’s cheeks warmed at the memory. She’d flung herself into Vivian’s arms, blubbering like a baby. All in front of Vivian’s dance students as well as her mate, Liam.

Vivian was mated. To her former bodyguard. The very idea of Vivian tying herself to any male was hard to process. Regardless, she seemed happy.

Dove sighed, scanning her bedroom. When she arrived last night, the space was spotless. Gilbert had worked miracles, cleaning up after the smoke damage. Her room was so tidy she almost didn’t recognize the place. Twenty-four hours later, and she’d left her mark. Shoes littered the floor. Clothes were flung over the chairs. Perhaps in time, it would feel like home. She frowned, chewing her lip. Did she want that? For Vivian’s gothic mansion to become her home again?

Knocking broke the silence.

“Come in,” she called out.

Vivian sauntered through the door. Mated life looked good on Dove’s former benefactor. Even dressed for bed, she was gorgeous as ever with her ebony curls brushing her shoulders. Over what was probably a scandalous nightgown, she wore a chic silk robe with a thick belt. No doubt Liam, her devoted mate, was eagerly waiting for her return to their shared bedroom.

“May I join you?” Vivian asked, her crimson lips curling into a gentle smile.

Dove’s heart tightened. In the past, Vivian wouldn’t have needed to ask, knowing the answer was always ‘yes.’ There was distance between them that wasn’t there before. It seemed they’d both changed in the time they were parted. She patted the bed and Vivian toed off her feather-trimmed sandals and lay down beside her.

Vivian’s mocha-brown eyes darkened with motherly concern. “You didn’t eat anything on the tray Gilbert brought you. It was all your favorites.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” Sweet Gilbert delivered a tray loaded with Pop-Tarts, chili cheese fries, and salted caramels a couple hours ago. His ghostly wife, Mildred, had lingered after he left, wringing her hands, a worried expression on her misty face. Dove sent the apparition on her way with a muttered reassurance that she was fine and a gentle push of power. It was bad enough being coddled by the living. She didn’t need more of the same from the deceased.

Again, knocking filled the room.

“Hello?” Armond called from the open door. “Is this a girls only party?”

“Come on in.” Dove skootched to the middle of the bed, and Armond slid in beside her.

He took her hand in his manicured fingers. “You ready to talk about it, honey?”

After her meltdown in the auditorium, they’d given her the space she asked for to process her emotions. Tears welled in Dove’s eyes. She shook her head and pursed her lips to tell him no. Her mouth opened, and the whole story spilled out.

After a spell, both Armond and Vivian stared at the ceiling, matching looks of horror and shock on their faces.

“Whoa,” Armond said with an exhale.

Vivian pushed up on her elbow, guilt apparent on her porcelain face. “Mon coeur, I am so sorry. I never would have sent you to Marcus had I known of his possession.”

Dove patted her hand. “It’s okay. It wasn’t all bad.” Sharing her ordeal with them had stirred up all kinds of memories. “If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have chased fireflies with Marcus in the moonlight, made out with my sexy shadow-man in a greenhouse. Never would have attended a lavish dinner on a tropical island with him or made love on a piano.”

Vivian and Armond shared a knowing look. What was that for? What did they know that she didn’t? Lightning struck her brain. Dove lurched upright and grabbed her chest. “Holy crap. I’m in love with him.”

Armond snorted, muttering to Vivian, “Told you so. You owe me a hundred bucks.”

“Not now, Armond.” Vivian reached over Dove, smacking his arm. “We have more pressing issues at hand.” She peered down at Dove, counting down each bullet point on her scarlet nails. “Just to make sure I didn’t miss anything, the male you love is possessed by a powerful demon. Currently, he is incarcerated by the Council and set to stand trial for ravaging souls and conspiring with Zion. The one person who could clear him of the Zion charges was murdered and delivered to him in a box. After opening the box, he accused you of betraying him and spying for Tiberius.”

Dove’s throat tightened. “You should have seen him. He’s never spoken to me that way, not even when I snuck out of the boutique. He was so furious. I think he hates me.” She squeezed her eyes closed. Images of Helen flashed through her head. The woman’s eyes were two sunken pits, her lips withered. It brought to mind another image. One of Adam minus his soul.

Dove’s breath caught, and her eyes snapped open. “Helen wasn’t just murdered. Her soul was reaped.”

“Come again?” Armond’s eyebrows climbed into his coifed hairline.

Dove explained, “When Marcus consumed Adam’s soul at Claymore, his lips shriveled, and his eyes sank into his skull. Helen was the same.”

“But Marcus lost sight of her during the fight at the casino. Since it wasn’t Marcus, who did it?”

“Shadow claimed he wasn’t the only shade,” Dove said. “That there were other demons here.”

---