Page 30 of Feral Possession

That evening, Dove sat on the floor of her bedroom, just inside the open door, her butt already numb. What she wouldn’t give to be with Armond, drinking a daiquiri on a tropical island. No, instead, she was here, stalking a demon. She’d definitely drawn the short straw on this one.

Many times, she’d replayed the conversation she’d had with Steele. Conclusion? Her benefactor was a manipulative jerk. Still, the softer side of her recognized he really did need her help. Which was kind of empowering now that she’d had a chance to think about it. The great Marcus Steele needed her help. Hers. Because, apparently, no one else was up to the task. So even though she didn’t appreciate his methods, here she was, stalking a demon. Not that she had a choice.

Of course, the domineering vampire insisted she start immediately. Like, immediately, immediately. She couldn’t exorcise his demon until she knew more about it, so she’d planned to do some bookwork, research type of stuff, boring, safe, time-consuming stuff. Stuff that may take weeks they didn’t have. Marcus hated this plan. Instead, he demanded she try to communicate with the creature to save time. The same creature who’d snarled and chucked a sofa table at her.

Already, she dreaded Marcus’s reaction when she failed to help him. And she would. Fail. After all, she was a pacifist, a gentle guide to lost souls. Not a spirit warrior. At the first hint of danger, her instinct was all flight, no fight. Yet, here she was, playing priest to his Linda Blair.

She rubbed her sweaty palms on her bare knees, reviewing the ridiculous plan that may very well see her maimed and traumatized. Marcus was in bed, putting his demon behind the wheel. Check. In her brain were several specific questions Marcus had hammered into her skull. Check. Her magical warding was strong enough to prevent the unknown entity from tossing her like an overpriced knickknack. Checkity check.

She groaned and shifted her butt cheeks on the hardwood. How long did it take for a spirit to take control of a host’s body, anyway? Marcus had gone to bed ages ago. Her professors had probably covered this in one of her many classes at Havenwood. One of the many classes she’d either slept through or used to practice her doodling.

Since she’d flunked out of Spiritual Possession 101, she was going with her gut. Soft candlelight illuminated her bedroom. Bright, but not too bright for her shadow-loving visitor. Her favorite Zen station played a soothing melody in the background. Marcus said loud noises provoked the spirit. Dove wanted it roused but not moved to violence as he was the other night. Hopefully, some fairy chimes and Tibetan Bowl music would mellow the beast. Bright colors were also a no-go, so she wore a smokey-lavender shift trimmed in lace—thank you, Celeste—instead of her tie-dye pajama pants.

Whether it would work was yet to be seen. At least the tranquil setting helped to settle her nerves. It wasn’t every day she set a trap for a malevolent spirit. The hours she’d spent worrying about this plan had left her exhausted.

What would the vampire lord look like, anyway? Once the spirit took control, he’d be Steele, but not Steele. Would he hide his face? The creature who’d hurled furniture at her didn’t strike her as the gentle type. More violent and murdery. Hopefully, he wasn’t too terrifying. After all, it was still Steele. Sort of.

A wide yawn worked its way up her throat, and she set it free, stretching her arms. Her eyelids drooped, and her vision blurred. Must stay awake. Stay awake. Stay. Stay…

Dove woke with her face smooshed against the floor. Drool wet her cheek, and she swiped her palm over her mouth. Alarm zinged through her veins. She shoved herself upright. Dang it, she’d fallen asleep during her very first stakeout. Marcus had given her one job. One job, and here she was, drooling on the hardwood like a champ.

She’d tried to tell him she wasn’t the right necromancer for this assignment. Seriously, he’d made it sound as though his entire life depended on her. Her stomach churned at the thought. If that was the case, the vampire was doomed.

Soft shuffling noises distracted her from her thoughts. She rubbed her gritty eyes and stared into the darkness beyond her room. Shadows shifted and her heart quickened. She sat straighter, struggling to focus. Was it here? Her eyes strained to pick up any signs of movement, and she held her breath. Goose bumps prickled her arms, and her glyph tingled, a sure sign she was no longer alone. She shivered. The creature was here alright. Here and watching her from the darkness.

Time to put those improv classes to work. “Oh well, seems my demon spirit is a no show. Guess I’ll just go to bed.” She added a loud yawn before gathering her legs beneath her to stand.

Shadows whooshed, and a massive figure exploded against her warded doorway. Panic ripped a scream from her throat, and she tumbled back. On shaky limbs, she crab-walked, eyeing the shimmering wall of energy protecting her threshold.

Another explosion startled a squeak from her. Again, the warding held. She stared at the glowing doorway, eyes wide, mouth gaping. Goddess save her. It was trying to break through. She inched forward and grabbed the edge of the door, prepared to shove it closed. Not that the heavy door would keep such a powerful creature out if the warding failed.

Silence descended.

When no further attacks followed, she exhaled a breath. Her defenses had been tested and held. At least within her room, she was safe. Again, when she saw Celeste, she was giving her a big smooch.

She rolled up to her knees, inching as close to the threshold as she dared. “Hello?” She frowned. It’s not like she didn’t know it was there after it tried to bash in her mystical barrier. “My name is Dove. I just want to talk to you.”

More silence.

“Are you hurt? It wasn’t my intention to harm you.”

Nada.

“Look, I know you’re there, so you may as well talk to me.”

Crickets.

Could they speak? She hoped so, or this would be a really short interrogation. Maybe they only knew the one word—stay. She shivered at the memory. “Do you have a name? What do you call yourself?”

Zilch.

She huffed a frustrated sigh. It would be nice to sleep at some point tonight. “Well, never mind. I’m going to bed.” Once more, she gathered her legs under her to stand, only this time, it wasn’t an act.

“Stay,” came the snarly response that had her butt hitting the ground again.

Okay, play it cool, Dove. Play it cool. “Tell me your name, and I’ll stay.”

Her breath hitched as she waited for the spirit’s reaction.

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