Page 64 of Feral Possession

Dove chimed in, eager to reassure him. “I’ve cast a circle as you requested. As long as we stay outside the boundary, we’re protected from both physical and metaphysical harm. You and Shadow will be contained inside.”

She moved to stand beside him. Her blood warmed at the vision of Marcus chained to the bed. No doubt the image would fuel her fantasies for many years to come. Hopefully, this went well and didn’t turn into a nightmare. In her hand was a black eyeliner pencil. “I just need to draw a symbol on your forehead. Do you mind?”

“Proceed,” he said, tone curt. Every muscle in his powerful body was tight with tension. The stress finally peeking through his hardened mask.

She hiked her long skirt up over her knee and sat beside him. Carefully, she drew the mark, then extracted the enchanted talisman from her pocket. The purple crystal fragment was mounted in silver. Sacred symbols inscribed in the setting. She placed it in the center of his chest. “This belonged to my mother and her mother before. The magic it contains is ancient and pure. It will guide us on our path.” The heirloom was Shadow’s only hope for survival.

“Marcus peered up at her. You’ve not mentioned your family before.”

Because he’d never asked.

Regardless, he seemed in need of a distraction, so she gave it to him, though speaking of her family twisted her insides. “For many faeries, our gift is passed down through our mothers. Momma was unregistered, hiding her existence from the Council. She and my father did their best to keep her gift a secret. We moved constantly.”

He frowned. “Your report mentioned it was your father who took you to Havenhouse before he went missing. What happened?”

“One night, Momma didn’t return home. My father found her. She’d been murdered, drained by some unknown creature for the magic in her blood. After that, he became obsessed with tracking down her killer. He insisted I call forth her spirit and ask for information that could lead us to her attacker.” Her throat tightened. “He grew angry when I failed. I was only six and hadn’t fully come into my power. I tried to tell him she’d crossed over, that I couldn’t reach her, but he wouldn’t listen.” She hitched a shoulder as though she wasn’t sharing the most painful moment of her life. “Shortly after, he took me to Havenwood. Left me on the doorstep and walked away.”

Marcus would do the same if this went sideways. Then what would become of her? Since she was claimed, no other vampire could feed from her, but that didn’t mean her blood wasn’t coveted in more sinister circles. With Vivian on the run, she could very well fall into the hands of the Council. Her stomach churned at the thought.

“Dove, look at me,” Marcus demanded, and she raised her eyes to his. “Whether you fail or succeed tonight, I will not forsake you.”

She’d believed the same of her father… and Vivian. She patted his chest. “Thank you for that.” At least, in this moment, he meant it. Time would tell what the future held. She checked the pocket watch. “Two minutes. We need to get started.”

Steely resolve hardened his eyes, and he flexed his arms in the chains. “Ready when you are.”

Dove stepped back, pouring salt to complete the containment circle while she explained. “This will be a bit like separating conjoined twins. There are four stages to the process. First, I focus on your spirit and define the boundaries of your essence. Second, I summon the demon, draw him to the forefront, and do the same with him. Third, I pull you both apart. Once you’re separated, I extract the demon.”

With the salt circle closed, she paused, making her confession. “It’s my hope to trap Shadow inside my mother’s talisman. There, he can reside until I find a way to return him to his dimension.” Shadow would hate her for it, she was sure, since she was placing him in yet another prison. At least he’d have a chance at surviving.

Marcus glared up at the ceiling, settling into his restraints. “I couldn’t give two shits what you do with the bastard. Just get it out of me.”

“Understood.” And she did understand. She just didn’t agree. This she kept to herself because she intended to save them both.

She turned to Bishop. “Are you ready?”

“I’ve got him.” The lycan tapped his ear. He would use his supernatural hearing to monitor Marcus’s heart rate. Also, he’d serve as backup if things became violent.

“Alright. Showtime.” Dove cracked her neck like she’d seen the tough guys do on television. ’Cause it looked cool. She moved to the foot of the pentacle, just outside the circle, and braced her legs. Palms up, she closed her eyes and tipped her face to the ceiling.

“Powers that be, hear me. Earth, wind, fire, water, spirit.” Marcus was the spiritual element, represented by the empty bowl. “I summon you, Marcus Steele.”

Silenced followed.

Did she do it wrong? She tried again, louder. “Marcus Steele, I summon you.”

“Dove?” Marcus said.

“Yes?”

“I’m right here.”

“Oh right. Sorry, just following the directions. Hold on a sec.” She held out her arm, scanning her notes.

Bishop growled. “Tell me you did not scribble cheat notes on your forearms.”

“You want this done right or not?” she snapped at him. “Now, where was I?” She closed her eyes and turned her focus inward, to her third eye. Short breath in. Hold. Long breath out. She repeated the process, diving deeper into her psyche. Deeper into the well at her core—a place she seldom visited. Deeper into the darkest recesses of her gift.

“I summon you, Marcus Steele,” she said in an otherworldly voice. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned Marcus. Well, not Marcus exactly, more of an artist’s interpretation of him. Here, in this disembodied plane, it was the subject, not the artist who created his own masterpiece. His unique essence took shape. Shades of black and slashes of red rendered his form. Gorgeous, moody colors. Dark and dramatic. No one in existence, not even his mother had ever seen this part of Marcus Steele. Dove couldn’t help but be moved by the experience.

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