Page 84 of Feral Possession

“Oh my gods. Oh my gods. Oh my gods. Tell me that did not just happen.” Dove shuffled behind Victor’s uniformed servant, Marcus at her side.

“Your uncle had Victor arrested. I’m freaking out!” She clasped her head between her hands to keep it from popping. “I mean, I’d heard he was on a bit of a tear, arresting suspects, but Victor Custodis? How does that even happen?”

“Dove,” Marcus said in a deep, growling voice. “You must calm yourself. Your fear isn’t going unnoticed.”

Gulp. Right. Shadow tended to get feisty when she was upset. She was the one who was supposed to keep him calm. Not the other way around. She raised her hands, touching her thumb and middle finger together. After drawing a slow breath through her nose, she exhaled, hissing, “What could the magister be thinking?” Despite her attempt at calm, her heart raced.

“I have no idea,” Marcus said, his tone wary. “My uncle hasn’t shared his plans with me in quite some time.”

If he’d arrested Victor, what would he do if he knew the truth about Marcus and his demon? During the confrontation, Tiberius had looked strangely at Marcus. Did he suspect something was off with his nephew? If he did, it was all her fault. She should have kept a tighter handle on Shadow.

“Oh my gods. Oh my gods. The lights flickered. I think your uncle noticed.”

“Bad wiring,” Marcus said, eyes on the back of the servant.

How could he be so calm at a time like this? What if they didn’t find Helen and clear Marcus’s name? Would the magister pursue Marcus with the same cold-hearted determination he’d shown Victor? An image of Tiberius leading Marcus away in restraints flitted through her mind. Nausea churned in her stomach.

“Oh my gods. Oh my gods.”

“Dove,” Marcus snapped.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

At the end of the hall, a slender man in a white lab coat strode in their direction. He was younger than she’d expected, his smile wide and friendly. She’d pictured the head of Victor’s medical facility as more of the gruff witch-doctor type.

“I’ve got them from here, Alphonse. Thank you.”

The stout servant bowed in acknowledgment and darted past them in a blur.

Dove blinked and glanced behind them. That fast, the tiny man was gone. What was he?

“Lord Steele, I’m Doc Randall. It’s nice to meet you.” The men shook hands.

“Apologies for bothering you during this troubling time,” Marcus said, ever the politician.

“Victor’s overcome worse. I’m confident the truth will prevail, and this grievous misunderstanding will be corrected.”

It made sense that a man of science would believe the facts would set his leader free. Dove prayed his faith wasn’t misplaced.

“I’m certain it will,” Marcus agreed.

“Alphonse tells me Victor asks that I help you in any way I can,” Doc said.

Dove frowned. The little guy who didn’t speak shared those instructions? And she could commune with the dead. So sure. Whatever.

Though it was the opposite of what she desired, she said, “We’re here to see Adam.”

Doc’s narrow brow tightened, and he eyed them like one might a bug under a microscope. Then he shrugged. “Very well. This way.”

He led them down a corridor and into a nondescript medical room. Inside was a wall of metal cabinets. He strode to one in the middle, grabbed the handle, and heaved the drawer open. “I fear I must warn you, the body is in terrible condition. You see, Adam sustained numerous wounds from a hellhound.” He reached for the zipper on the bag. “His neck was broken, so you’ll likely see—”

“Stop!” Dove held up her hands. Hellhound attack? Nobody mentioned he’d been mauled. Memories of the groundbreaking ceremony rose to haunt her. The one where she’d frozen and almost lost Armond. “I don’t need to see him to speak with him.”

“Sorry?” Doc Randal paused with his hand on the zipper.

“I’m a necromancer. There’s no need to unzip the bag. If you’ll just direct me to a place where I can set up. That will do.”

“Ah. I understand.” Doc nodded sagely, surveying the room. “Will the dissection table work?”

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