Page 20 of Feral Possession

“Tell me. What brings you into my little shop?”

“I’m in search of clothing mostly, but maybe there’s something else you could help me with while I’m here. See, I’m having an issue with an unwelcome spirit and need to ward my bedroom. Problem is, I haven’t performed the ritual in a while, and I’m a bit rusty.”

“Issues with the spiritual realm, huh?” Celeste planted her hand on her hip. This time, the head to toe she gave her was all business. “You’re a necromancer?”

“That’s right,” Dove admitted without hesitation. The witch didn’t strike her as the type to spook easily. “Think you could help me out?”

“Certainly. Follow me. The showroom is where I keep my more mundane merchandise. Back here is where I keep the good stuff.”

She led Dove through the beaded curtain. On the other side was a simple storage space with an additional door. Celeste placed her palm in the center of the symbol painted on it, muttered a chant, and the door popped open. Earthy scents urged Dove’s nostrils to suck a deeper breath. The secret room resembled a vintage apothecary. Shelves filled with bottles spanned the walls, dried herbs hung from the ceiling. In the middle was a heavy butcher block island. On its surface was a mortar and pestle along with an old-fashioned scale.

Dove trailed her fingers over the worktable. “And just when I thought your store was perfect, it keeps getting better.”

Celeste laughed. “I’ll gather up what you’ll need. You know, it’s been a while since I’ve had such an interesting request. For the most part, I use my talents to create bath bombs, wrinkle creams and such.” She collected bottles from her inventory, wrapping them in tissue before placing them in a paper gift bag. Over her shoulder, she said, “Tell me, what’s it like being Marcus Steele’s Chosen?”

“Eh, kind of boring, honestly.”

Celeste paused and pursed her lips. “How… disappointing. I have to say, there isn’t a female in Steele’s territory who hasn’t attempted to wrangle an invite into his private lair.”

Something strange tightened Dove’s insides at the thought of all the women who’d thrown themselves at Steele. Who could blame them? Even after his accident, he still was attractive, if you were into dark and moody, which Dove wasn’t.

Choosing to keep these thoughts to herself, Dove said, “His penthouse is nice and all, but Steele keeps to himself, so it’s pretty quiet. I mean, Ida, his housekeeper, is cool, but she’s busy working when she’s there.”

“That does sound boring.” Celeste rummaged through a basket of crystals. “Now personally, I’d like to spend some time with that beefcake bodyguard of his. I could follow him around all day.”

“Who, Bishop?”

“Mmm, hmm.” Celeste hummed as though she were eating chocolate. “Former, Super Heavyweight Champion, Bishop McGregor. He was an underworld cage fighter long before Steele hired him.”

“Wow. I had no idea.” Though it made perfect sense. However, there was one thing that didn’t. “Celeste, you’re a cage fighting fan?” Dove found it hard to picture the mystical woman in an arena, shouting with all the other bloodthirsty spectators.

“I’m a Bishop fan.” Celeste hitched a shoulder. “I haven’t been to a match since he was forced to retire.”

“Forced?”

“During one of the biggest matches of his career, he killed his opponent. Which is a big no-no in Council sanctioned fights. Worse, the guy’s family cried foul play. Bishop was in some hot water until Lord Steele bailed him out. He retired directly after.”

“Yikes. No wonder Bishop seems so loyal.” Did he kill the guy on purpose or by accident? The bodyguard didn’t seem like the type to kill without reason. Not that she’d known him for long.

Celeste set the bag on the butcher block and picked up a piece of parchment and pen, scribbling in a flowing script Dove envied. “Here is a copy of the incantation you’ll need.” Once finished, she rolled up the paper and tied it with a bit of ribbon. “Also, I’ve included my cell phone number. Call me if you have any questions or want to chat.”

“Thank you. I will.” Dove smiled, already envisioning them as future besties ’cause the witch was hella cool.

Celeste collected the bag. “Now, let’s find you something to wear before your guards track you down and ruin our fun.”

While Celeste magically secured the door behind them, Dove parted the beaded curtain and froze. “Too late,” she croaked, her throat gone tight.

On the floor was the body of a man she’d never seen before. His lack of aura confirmed the worst. Yep. Dude was dead. Standing over the corpse was none other than Bishop.

Dove stared, mouth gaping, beyond freaked out considering the story Celeste just shared with her.

The witch peered over her shoulder and gasped. “Is that—”

“Yes.”

“And he—”

“Pretty sure.”

---