Page 21 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Seventeen

A quarter hour later, Ice and I sit inside the manor’s old coach house, which squats on a parcel of winter-dried grass behind the manor and has been converted to guest quarters.

These rooms are, thankfully, undisturbed.

Ice presses a cup of water into my cold hands, then sits across the table, his big body and larger presence taking up most of the narrow, quaint room.

Since I’ve completed spells to keep Bram hydrated and his body functioning properly, shadows drape my brother as he lies on the sofa in the cozy little den.

Here, it feels peaceful, quiet except for the softly falling rain.

The appearance of serenity is both temporary and a lie.

I shiver as flashes of senseless murder and spilled blood tattoo my mind.

“We can’t stay here,” I say, shutting the door on my brother. “We need to warn the other Councilmen, then flee.”

Braced on his elbows, Ice leans on the table, shoulders bulging and wide. “No. We should stay.”

Is he mad? “The Anarki invaded this place and did…terrible things,” I choke. “If they came back, they’d take the diary. Why would we stay in harm’s way?”

“Precisely because they’ve already been and think their mayhem here is done. Why would they return?”

After a pause, I realize he may be right.

As much as I want distance between myself and the house of horrors, where a man I was fond of and his servants were viciously slaughtered, I know better.

Why would the Anarki return when they were here so recently and completed their terrible task so effectively?

“All right. But we stay here in the coach house. I won’t sleep in the manor. I can’t.”

Ice pauses, frowns, then reaches across the table for my hand. His warmth embraces my chilled fingers, and I’m absurdly grateful for his support. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it. But somehow, he knew.

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” he assures. “We’ll stay in the coach house. I’ll keep watch.”

“You need sleep, too.”

He hesitates. “There is only one bed.”

My gaze flits to it, a cozy cherry wood tester bed trimmed in gauzy curtains and piled with comfortable quilts. A bed designed and outfitted for romance.

I try to focus on the practical matter at hand, but my mind keeps fragmenting—flashing between the horror we just witnessed and the very alive, very warm man across from me.

Maybe it’s natural to crave life and warmth after seeing so much death.

Maybe I’m losing my mind, but I imagine Ice’s body next to mine, hard and dusted with hair where I am soft and smooth, putting off heat like a broiling oven.

My pulse jumps. Very bad thoughts, indeed.

Hiding a wince, I turn back to the warrior. I’d offer the sofa to Ice, but Bram is draped over it limply, his condition unchanged. “We’ll manage.”

Ice closes his eyes. Looks down. Swallows. When his gaze bounces up to mine again, fire flares. Transfixed, I stare.

“Princess, if we share that bed, neither of us will get any sleep. All night.”

I suck in a breath as a hot ache balls in my stomach.

Worse, the feeling is beginning to sink down and settle between my thighs.

I can only imagine the nuclear reactor sort of energy Ice and I would generate, the blistering pleasure.

He’s so tempting. An utter puzzle—hard one minute, tender the next, alternately kind, possessive, insistent, infuriating.

He enthralls me.

God, I’m a fool. If I speak the Binding and become his mate, the Privileged would be shocked, my brother devastated, and my famous grandfather, Merlin, would be turning over in his grave…

Ice wants me. Not for a tumble, but forever. His actions seem to match, but always that voice in the back of my head won’t let me forget how much he and Bram hate each other. What would he be willing to do to cause my brother serious pain? How far would he go?

I have no answers.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” I say finally.

He releases my hand, eases back in his chair, eyes unreadable. “Of course not.”

What does he mean by that? I frown and want to ask, but it’s pointless, really.

These few days alone with him are like some page out of time—never occurred before and never will again.

Eventually, perhaps when I’m less worried for Bram and we aren’t running for our lives and focused on saving magickind, I will find the will to Renounce Ice.

Until then, what point is there in building our relationship?

None.

“We should focus on reaching the other Councilmen, warning them.”

“How?” he barks. “How do we do that without alerting the Anarki or their sympathizers that we’re here? We can’t teleport without leaving the diary behind, and we still don’t know if using the book itself would make us traceable. I’ve seen no phone…”

“When any Councilman ascends, they’re given a special transcast mirror for communication. It connects only with other such mirrors. This isn’t something many know, and they’re always hidden.”

“I wondered why Mathias decimated the manor house, but if there’s a communication device… You think he sought that when he tore apart the house?”

“Likely.”

“We could search for MacKinnett’s.” Ice pauses, then sighs. “How badly do we need it? Think about it, princess. Maybe we say nothing about MacKinnett’s fate or warn the others yet. Would it truly serve Mathias’s interest to kill other Council members just now?”

“They stand in his way. Why wouldn’t he want them all dead so he could take over?”

“That’s likely his ultimate goal. But if the Council suddenly ceased to exist, Mathias could have an uprising on his hands, with the Doomsday Brethren still standing in his way.

He’s evil, not daft. The more cunning approach is to start small, work his way up to power, then take action and fill the Council with like-minded puppets until he rules magickind with his iron fist.”

“Impossible. You know if a Council member passes to his nextlife and has no heir to claim his seat, the Council itself selects and elects its own members. I cannot imagine the current body voting Mathias to occupy MacKinnett’s vacant seat.”

“Unless Mathias has a Councilman in his back pocket.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Mathias must have a plan. I don’t think it likely that he would plot and murder to occupy a Council seat without a member willing to champion him and sway the rest to vote for him.”

I frown. “Who would possibly do that?”

“You know better than me. Let’s talk about the Councilmen.”

“Well, clearly not Bram. Sterling MacTavish is Lucan and Caden’s uncle, and I’ve known that man my whole life. He would never aid Mathias. He lost friends during Mathias’s first terror. He’s also elderly and knows he no longer possesses the strength to fight.”

“So he continues to deny the bastard is back?” Ice asks, his tone razor sharp.

“Exactly. Clifden O’Shea, Tynan’s grandfather, is of the same ilk. Helmsley Camden has no issue, having never mated. Given that his father once waged a fierce political campaign against Mathias and was killed for it, I’m hard-pressed to believe Camden would assist Mathias now.”

“The others?”

Now matters get murky. “I scarcely know Kelmscott Spencer and Carlisle Blackbourne, the Council Chancellor. It’s likely Bram desired alliances with one of them, through my mating to either of their sons, to solidify his position and hold them in check.

Both Rye Spencer and Sebastian Blackbourne will someday assume their father’s seats. ”

My mind churns through possibilities as I pace to the window. Outside, the rain continues its steady drumbeat against the glass. How many of these men would I trust with my life? With my brother’s life?

With a sigh, I turn back to Ice. “I’m sure Bram wanted to be assured of at least one of their votes.”

“Blackbourne’s family once supported Mathias during his last uprising,” Ice points out.

“As did Spencer’s. Though both have long since rescinded their positions.”

“Yes, but for show?”

That, I can’t say for certain.

What a terrible political tangle. I’ve been assisting Bram with Council matters, but I’m hardly the expert.

My brother knows how to finesse and manipulate them.

He’s learned which battles can be won and which are hopeless.

I feel as if I’ve dived off a cliff blindfolded.

I know Council politics fairly well—Bram made sure of that—but knowing and leading are entirely different beasts.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I concede. “If Blackbourne and Spencer are on Mathias’s side, perhaps they seek to persuade someone like Camden that it’s in his best interest to approve Mathias. And if he refuses…”

His head could well be on the chopping block next.

“Still,” I go on, “Mathias would have only three votes. The other three would be against him.”

“How do they settle a tie?”

“According to Bram, the Council’s eldest member decides the issue with a challenge.”

“And that is…?”

“Blackbourne.”

“There you go.” Ice nods.

A chill sweeps across me. Ice’s thinking looks damned possible. And Ice has figured this out. A very intelligent theory from a supposed madman.

I’m also aware that, if I’ve misjudged even one Council member, more people will die. The weight of that responsibility settles on my shoulders like a lead cloak.

“Let’s look at the other likely scenario. If Blackbourne and Spencer aren’t colluding with evil, maybe Mathias intends to use terror tactics to muscle his way onto the Council by threatening Councilmen’s families. We should warn them of that possibility.”

Ice pauses. “It’s not that simple, princess. If we warn Councilmen who are, in fact, Mathias sympathizers, the Anarki will know we’re at MacKinnett’s manor. They’ll begin hunting us again. We’re slower, traveling by human means. We’re easy prey if they find us.”

I don’t want to risk Councilmen’s families being hurt or killed because of our silence, but Ice is right. Besides Bram, we have the Doomsday Diary to protect. If either fall into Mathias’s hands, that could mean the destruction of magickind.

“We should at least warn Camden that Mathias may have a target on his back. If Mathias is going to kill more Council members now, Camden is the most likely, both because he’s without an heir and has made no secret of the fact he despises the evil bastard.”

A sound from outside—probably just wind rattling the shutters—makes us both freeze. Ice moves toward me instinctively, protectively. I’m painfully aware of how exposed we are here, planning in whispers while surrounded by the remnants of a massacre.

Ice nods. “I agree. Warn Camden alone, perhaps enlist his help. He may be best equipped during Bram’s illness to help us understand the politics of the Council and who can be trusted.”

“Indeed.” I rise from my seat.

With a frown, Ice grabs my wrist and stays me. “It can wait until morning, when you’ve rested and feel more ready to face what’s in that house again.”

The idea to push it all aside until tomorrow is tempting. But Mathias and the Anarki are quick and remorseless. I don’t want Helmsley Camden’s blood on my hands.

“No, it can’t.”