Page 2 of Feral Possession

Was that supposed to soften her to the idea? It didn’t. “Accident, huh? Is that what he’s calling the attempt on his life?” Someone very angry and very dangerous had wanted Lord Steele dead. The night of his casino opening, Steele’s fancy sports car exploded with him inside.

Dove snorted. “Tell me again why I’m safer with Steele than I am here, in my home?”

Armond huffed a patient sigh, a sound he used often around her. “Since his accident, Steele’s turned his penthouse into a fortress and hired an army of security guards. There’s no place safer for you than at his side. Lord Marcus Steele has the position, reputation, and means to make sure no harm comes to you.”

“Great. I’ll be locked in an ivory tower. Maybe I’ll grow out my hair, braid it, and toss it out the window like Rapunzel.”

Undeterred, Armond went on, singing Steele’s praises. “Out of the four vampire Houses, Steele’s is the oldest and most powerful in the eastern realm. He’s the youngest on record to ever lead a House. His father was lord before him. Well”—he fluttered a hand—“that is until he was assassinated.”

“Assassinated?” Dove said, a pang of sympathy cutting through her pique. “As in…” She slid her finger across her throat, making a choking sound.

“Afraid so,” Armond continued. “When Marcus was old enough, he challenged the traitor who’d stolen his father’s position and won quite spectacularly. I’m told he slaughtered the male in such a grizzly fashion, few have dared to challenge him since.”

“Well, someone dared,” Dove snorted.

Armond plucked an imaginary bit of fuzz from his immaculate slacks. “Regardless, provoking Steele is akin to signing your own death warrant. He certainly isn’t one to forgive and forget. Best not toy with the male. I’m told he can be quite vicious when provoked.”

Dove huffed. “So this was more of a warning than a pep talk.”

Gilbert, Vivian’s anculus, appeared at the threshold of the open door, his butler’s garb pristine. His family was descended from a long line of distinguished mortals who served the vampire aristocrats.

“Lord Steele and Mistress Vivian have requested your presence, miss.” His bushy eyebrows rose as he surveyed her room. To his credit, he didn’t falter in the face of Hurricane Dove. Didn’t betray a morsel of disgust as he surveyed the colorful clothing draped over every surface, nor the piles of shoes scattered across the floor. “Shall I place your luggage in his lordship’s car?”

Before she could answer, she shivered, icy tingles prickling her glyph. The spiraling ribbon of nerves climbed the length of her spine, resembling an iridescent ivy tattoo. It was one of many things that set her apart from other supernaturals. At times, the glyph acted as a faerie necromancer’s warning system. Though it wasn’t foolproof since she reacted the same around creamed spinach, spiders, and clowns.

This time it rang true. In the corner of her room, a misty apparition took shape. Dressed in a flowing white nightgown, the attractive mid-thirties woman floated closer to the bed. Gilbert, bless his heart, stiffened for half a second as though sensing something was amiss, then squared his shoulders. For a while now, Dove suspected the anculus was aware of his wife’s presence. Not that either of them was willing to discuss the ghostly elephant in the room. Dove had learned long ago, even those she considered close friends grew uncomfortable around her when she discussed the spirits only she could see. Gilbert was too dear to her to risk that kind of rejection.

Dove jabbed her elbows into the top of her overflowing suitcase and wrenched the zipper closed. “Thanks, Gilbert. I’d love if you’d take it down for me.” She pretended not to notice the ghostly woman hovering at his side. Once a spirit knew you were aware of them, things could get awkward. “Contact my loved ones. What happened to the white light? I think I left the stove on. Avenge my death.” Blah, blah, blah. Thankfully, Mildred only had eyes for Gilbert.

Sure, Dove could have warded her room, ensuring those from the astral plane couldn’t invade her sanctuary. Still, she’d hesitated to take such a drastic step. All Mildred wanted was to be near her husband. That kind of love and devotion was rare today. In some twisted way, Dove envied them. It was doubtful she’d ever find the same herself. Besides, why would she want to when she had everything she needed, right here with Vivian and Armond?

“Only one suitcase, miss?” Gilbert said in an even tone.

Dove shrugged. “I didn’t have time to pack anything else.”

“Because she’d spent the last two hours watching The Wizard of Oz,” Armond said, ratting her out.

She whacked him in his good arm, even though he wasn’t wrong. Time management wasn’t one of her superpowers. Besides, she had a deep affection for the classics and found them soothing in stressful times. Times like this one.

The butler’s unflappable demeanor didn’t falter. “Not a problem, miss. I’d be happy to pack the rest of your things and send them to you.”

She didn’t doubt his eagerness. He’d been trying to get his hands on her disaster of a bedroom for years. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it.” Good luck with that.

Gilbert strode to the bed, eager to help. Before he could wrestle with the case, Dove threw her arms around his rigid frame and buried her face into his waistcoat. The scent of lemon polish and peppermint filled her senses. “I’ll miss you most of all, Scarecrow.” She swallowed tears. The elderly anculus had been part of her little family just as long as Vivian and Armond. He’d been with her from the beginning. She just prayed this wasn’t the end.

For a moment, Gilbert stood frozen in her grasp until his wiry torso softened. He wrapped an arm around her and patted her shoulder. “Not to worry, miss,” he said in a thickened voice, “you’ll be back in no time. The moment Mistress Vivian says it’s safe.”

Dove released him and stepped back. Over his shoulder, Mildred blinked in and out of focus. Her arm lifted as though she wiped tears. Dove pinned the apparition with a direct stare, pushing a kernel of her power into the command. “Take care of them. Please.”

Gilbert answered, “I will, miss. Now, off you go.”

She glanced up to find Armond dabbing a fingertip beneath his eye.

“Stop it, right now.” She held out a hand. “If you lose it, there’s no way I’ll be able to keep it together. I don’t want to be snotty when I see Steele.”

“Right.” Armond cleared his throat. “Just something in my eye, is all.” He stood, schooled his features, and swept his arm out. “After you, my lady.”

Dove swished past him, holding her head high, firm grip on the tears that threated to choke her. “Let’s get this over with.”

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