Page 54 of Feral Possession

Dove watched with a mixture of horror and fascination. Was Shadow consuming the spirit?

The image blinked. Once. Twice.

Gone.

The black scourge retreated the same way it appeared, sliding back, climbing the walls. Shadows thinned, the darkness fading. Behind them, one of the surviving monitors flickered to life.

“You okay?” said a smooth, even voice. Marcus’s voice.

Dark eyes, void of the demon’s presence, peered back at her from beneath his hood. The glow under his shirt, gone. Her glyph calm as tranquil waters. Nothing of the spirit realm remained.

“Yeah.” Maybe? Dove struggled to collect her thoughts. It was as though Shadow had consumed the spirit’s light. Snuffed it out like a wet match. Dread twisted her innards. Was the demon a soul reaper? “Are you? Okay?” she asked, peering beneath his hood. Marcus turned his head, avoiding her probing stare.

“Fine,” he said, tone curt.

She’d take that as a ‘no.’ However, even she knew this wasn’t the time to probe. The Shadow-Steele issue a worry for another time. “Let’s get out of here before we have to explain what happened.”

“Agreed.” Steele tucked her under his arm, guiding her to the door. He glanced back. “Think they’ll notice we were here?” Cracking a joke? If so, it was the first she’d ever heard from him.

Dove looked back at the damaged security room. Monitors fizzled, spitting sparks. Binders and paper littered the floor. Tornados did less damage.

“Good news is, they won’t recognize what’s missing.” She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Don’t worry. I have what you’re looking for in my bra.”

Marcus squeezed her shoulder, laughter in his tone. “Good girl.”

“Can you zoom in?” Marcus sat beside Bishop at the table in their suite. The laptop with Helen and her lover’s image rested before them. In the video, the couple walked hand in hand along the corridor. With Helen in hiding, there was an excellent chance they were together. If she wasn’t with him, they’d hunt the bastard down and convince him to share her location.

“Give me a second.” Bishop hammered the keys with his tattooed fingers.

“Tell me again where you sent my friend,” Dove bellowed from the sofa.

Bishop exhaled a growl. “The witch is doing recon.” He shrugged a massive shoulder. “I told her to keep an eye on Xavier’s concierge. If he leaves the desk for any reason, she’s to let me know.”

Dove lurched upright, glaring at the lycan. “You mean you gave her busy work to keep her out of your hair.”

Bishop snickered. “Exactly.”

Dove flopped back, huffing a disgruntled sigh. “The second we’re done here, I’m bringing her back.”

Bishop’s scowl deepened. “If you must.” He spread two fingers on the touchpad. The image doubled, magnifying the male’s face. “You recognize him?”

Marcus leaned closer. “Seems familiar.”

“I’ll run it through facial recognition.” Bishop’s blunt fingers jack-hammered the keyboard. Minutes ticked by. “There.” The male’s stats filled the screen. Bright red letters were stamped over his official Council profile. Deceased. “Adam Sinclair. He’s a member of Victor Custodis’s guard, or at least he was.” Bishop poked the keyboard again. “Cause of death, classified.”

Marcus exhaled a growl. “Of course he’s deceased. It wouldn’t surprise me if Helen killed her lover to cover her tracks.” White hot fury tightened his body. He spoke past gritted teeth. “We wasted two days here only to hit another dead end. We can’t go on like this. I’m out of time.” May as well hammer another nail into his coffin.

“In what way, boss?” Bishop asked. “Something happen?”

Words stuck to Marcus’s tongue. Saying it out loud made it real. He was getting worse, his condition deteriorating rapidly.

Dove answered for him, her tone gentle. “His demon rose when we were in the security office. While Marcus was awake. The spirit is growing stronger. In the room, he… did something. I’m still not clear on what it was exactly, but it was some scary powerful stuff.”

For once, Marcus had been conscious the entire time, spectator to the demon’s antics. It wouldn’t be long until it was permanently attached to his soul. The damage to both his body and his life, irreparable. Marcus sure as fuck wasn’t going down before he made Helen pay.

He turned to Dove. “What do you need?”

She stiffened, drawing upright on the sofa. “To do what?”

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