Page 29 of Princess Avenged

Zuben leans forward. “You sound very certain of this.”

“As certain as I can be.” I lean onto my knees. “I’ve read a thousand accounts of demonic possessions, and not even one involved a vampire. Humans are the creatures susceptible to demonic possession.”

“But what if this particular demon can possess a vampire?” Zuben asks.

A chill lifts every hair on my body. “Not possible.”

Zuben clears his throat. “What if I told you it is possible.”

I stand. “What did you discover? What is your source? Can you send it to me?”

Zuben looks to his left, again.

“Who’s there with you?” Flame rises to his feet beside me and points toward the screen. “Who are you hiding?”

I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s noticed Zuben’s shady behavior on this call.

My already icy blood freezes solid. What if this isn’t Zuben at all? I should have thought of that sooner.

Have we been tricked? Did Rasputin kill Zuben too? How can we know whom to trust?

“Are you Rasputin?” I ask.

“Rasputin is dead,” Zuben says stiffly. “And his body, once killed, turned to ash. He is most certainly gone.”

Relief floods me.

“How do you know?” Crusher asks gruffly. “We already saw him die once, but I saw him alive after that.”

“He is dead,” Zuben says.

Crusher lunges toward the screen. “Prove it.”

Zuben turns again, tipping his head to the side this time, as if appealing to someone outside the camera’s range.

“Fuck.” A deep voice comes from off screen. A voice that sounds like…

Phil steps into the frame.

Chapter

Fourteen

Phil

“You’re alive!” Blade’s expression shifts from shock to pure joy, then he reaches toward the screen like he can touch me across the thousands of miles between us. Flame’s grinning too, but he’s staring at Crusher,

And Crusher…

“You were dead.” Crusher swallows hard, and then grabs his head with both hands. “I saw it. I’m sure you were dead.”

I don’t know how to respond. I didn’t plan to let the guys know I was alive until I got this fucker out of my head, but Zuben sucks at deceit. While on this call, he looked at me a dozen times, coming off shifty, and the guy is not shifty.

“Rasputin is definitely dead,” I tell them, sticking to the easier subject. “I killed him myself.”

“We thought he was dead the last time you killed him.” Blade rubs his head. Clearly doubt has invaded his joy at seeing me. “Why so certain this time?”

“I saw his body age in seconds,” I tell them. “I saw it turn to dust.”

---