Page 112 of Feral Possession

Marcus raked a hand through his hair, disgust apparent on his face. “You became magister with the intent of destroying the Council from the inside. You’ve been working both sides, making the underworld squirm beneath the Council’s oppression so they’d want to rebel and join you.”

Zion gave his answer to his captive audience. “The Council and our restrictive laws keep the underworld from greatness. Instead of hiding in the shadows, we should be living like gods.”

Dove’s stomach churned. As magister, he’d manipulated them all.

Seeming to share in her horrific observation, Kaius grasped his head. “Fates save us, what have we done? It was under your twisted leadership that the Council collared the lycans, made blood pets of the faeries, cut horns off the fire demons. All under the guise of protecting the peace.”

Zion addressed those gathered, pacing before them. “I did all these things for you. For us. To prove to you how controlling, how restrictive the Council’s antiquated system has become. It has no place in the modern world. If we’re to survive, we must evolve. Join with me, brothers and sisters. Together, we will defeat all who resist our reign.”

Several of the people seated before him stood, placing their fists over their hearts. Given the less than motivating speech, it was likely those standing were already closet Zion supporters.

“Whose reign?” Dove dared to call out above the low mutters of concern. “Your reign? The vampires, the lycan, the faeries? Who will rule in this new kingdom? That was the whole point of the Council, wasn’t it? To unite the races to govern the underworld together. To create peace among us.”

Seemed she’d asked the magic question. For once, no one bothered to silence the naughty faerie for speaking out of turn.

Zion rolled his massive shoulders back, puffing out his chest. “As Council magister, my experience and credentials speak for themselves. You’ve witnessed how weak we’ve grown with a collective mindset. It’s time for an autocratic approach. Who better to lead this new regime than me? Make your choice and make it now.” He stared down those gathered, menace in his bearing. “I suggest you do so judiciously.”

Tiberius’s armed task force chambered their guns, eyeing the spectators. Several more of those held captive eased to their feet, placing their fists over their hearts.

From the Council podium, Kaius thrust his finger in the demon’s direction like he scolded an errant child, his bulbous nostrils flaring. “You act as though we have a choice while your guards hold us hostage. What you offer isn’t a choice but an ultimatum. If this is how you plan to lead us, you’ll do so over my dead body. I’ll never kneel to a tyrant.”

Tiberius exhaled a sigh. “So be it.” He turned to his task force. “Kill him.”

Three gunshots exploded. Dove screamed, covering her ears. Crimson bloomed in the center of Kaius’s golden robes. He grabbed his chest and fell forward onto the table. Chaos erupted. People launched from their seats. In a panic, they climbed over each other. Tiberius’s soldiers closed in on them. Screams rang out.

“Dove,” Marcus shouted over the noise. “The containment release. It’s the ring on Kaius’s finger.”

“Right,” she huffed. She needed to set Marcus free so they could get the hell out of there. Once clear, they’d sort out the Zion reveal. Problem was, a whole lot of carnage and mayhem stood between her and freedom. Though wounded, the labored rise and fall of Kaius’s shoulders indicated he wasn’t dead, so no necromancy. She’d need to turn the ring herself. “How do I get through?”

“Use Helen,” Marcus shouted.

“What? Helen?” She spotted the abandoned corpse lying on the floor where Tiberius had dropped her. Crap. Dove’s tank was on empty and her brain was toast from the amount of focus it took to break into the trial.

Images of the hellhound attack rose to haunt her. She’d been so scared, she was unable to use her gift to gain control of the beasts. Armond almost died because she’d frozen.

She squeezed her eyes closed, centering her mind. Come on, Dove. You’ve got this. Marcus needs you. Then she opened them again, focusing everything she had on animating Helen’s bony corpse. Boy, she wished Helen’s soul had survived so she could witness her body being used by a pathetic necromancer. Suck it, Helen.

She pushed the last remaining dredges of her power out into Helen’s body. The long-dead woman staggered to her feet. Much longer and not even her nasty perfume would cover the stench. Moving with far less finesse than she had before, Helen lumbered into the fray. Gunfire rang out, bullets ripping through her lifeless frame.

Dove experienced zero guilt when a stray bullet shot off part of the woman’s ear. Despite the damage, Helen marched on, stiff-legged. Those fighting paid her little mind, seeing as she was already dead. Finally, she rounded the back of the raised dais. There, she grabbed Kaius’s hand and twisted the ring.

Energy whooshed beside her, and Dove spun as the barrier around Marcus dropped.

Shadows like black flames licked the length of Marcus’s arms. Muscles rippled along his back. He bared his teeth and charged into the fray. Also, not what she had planned. She was more of a flight, not fight, kind of gal.

“Marcus, wait,” Dove called out. Her legs collapsed beneath her, her tank empty. She’d used the last of her juice mobilizing Helen.

Before Marcus could reach him, Zion spun, whipping out his arm. Shadows swept Marcus off his feet, throwing him back. His head cracked the wall and he slid to the floor, stumbling and disoriented.

“Seize him,” Zion ordered the men closest to him. “I need him alive.”

Three members of the magister’s task force attacked Marcus.

Dove eyed the battle, helpless to do anything but watch.

Instead of fighting, they needed to get out of there while everyone was distracted. She scanned the room for an escape route. Thank goodness. Someone managed to break down the doors.

She swung her head back, and Zion locked her in his determined glare. “Crap,” she squeaked, crawling under the nearest bench.

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