Page 97 of Feral Possession

“I wish it were easier to see their faces. Half the audience has their backs to us. Do you think she’s down there somewhere?”

“Perhaps. Only time will tell,” he said, his voice tight.

“When does Bishop fight?”

“His is the final match of the evening,” Celeste joined them, passing out three champagne flutes.

“Saving the best for last.” Dove sipped from her glass, bubbles tickling her nose. Hopefully, Helen made an appearance before the suspense drove Dove to drink the entire bottle.

She hated leaving Celeste in the dark, but Marcus had asked her not to share their plans, worried about tipping off his former CFO. Though from what she’d heard, Helen was twisted enough to show, regardless.

The lights dimmed. Spotlights illuminated the massive iron cage. Music boomed from the speaker system.

Celeste bounced on her toes. “It’s about to start.”

Dove wished she could share her enthusiasm. This was going to be the longest night of her life.

Two minutes into the first round had Dove watching with both hands over her eyes. “Is it over yet?”

“Almost, a couple more hits like that and this guy is toast,” Celeste said, sounding breathless. Her friend was totally into it. Who knew the witch had a violent streak?

Even with Dove’s eyes closed, the sound of fists thumping flesh was grossing her out. “I thought there would be rounds with short breaks, giving spectators a minute to settle their stomachs. Also, why is there no referee?”

Celeste snorted. “Because nobody wants to put themselves in a cage with two supernatural opponents. For a similar reason, there’s isn’t a bell loud enough to break them up once they’ve started. The fight ends when one is knocked out or submits.”

“You mean there’re no rules?” Worry for Bishop tightened the knots in her shoulders.

“Just a few. No dismemberment, no killing, no weapons, no performance-enhancing drugs.”

Dove arched a brow. “No drugs? How mortal. Since when is the underworld concerned with steroid use?”

“Apparently, it’s becoming a big problem. What with Zion and his followers peddling black ice all over town.”

This, at least, Dove understood. Black ice was the newest craze in underworld street drugs. It was said to set your inner demon free. Overdoses were known to turn users into their most primal and dangerous forms. For many, it was the stuff of nightmares. It was certainly a nightmare for those who were already low on the food chain.

Finally, after twenty matches full of brutality the likes Dove had never witnessed before, the announcer stepped into the ring, declaring there would be a short intermission before the Wildcard event. With each match, Marcus’s tension built, along with her disappointment. It seemed Helen was a no-show.

Dove eased from her seat, rolling her head and stretching her back. “Oh, that last fight was the worst.”

“Did you see his tooth fly into the crowd?” Celeste’s eyes sparked with excitement.

“I’m so glad we didn’t sit ringside.” Dove clasped a hand over her churning stomach. Underworld cage fighting wasn’t a sport for pacifists.

While Dove and Celeste had gasped and groaned, watching the fighters, Marcus had remained silent. His focus on the spectators.

“Anything?” Dove cast him a sympathetic glance.

“Nothing,” he hummed a frustrated noise.

“Maybe we should stretch our legs.”

“I could use a visit to the ladies’ room,” Celeste said. “Don’t want to pee my panties when Bishop makes his entrance.”

“Very well.” Marcus nodded and led them to the door. Outside their private suite, groups of spectators strolled past them. The corridor surprisingly congested. Pinpricks of unease traveled along Dove’s glyph.

“Oh man, look at that line. I’ll be right back,” Celeste said, hustling off into the crowd.

Directly in front of them, a small cluster of people walked past. Perfume snaked up Dove’s nostrils, and she winced. Goodness, did the woman bathe in the stuff?

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