Page 40 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

B y the time I dress and bring some semblance of order to my hair, Ice steps from the bathroom, freshly showered. He prowls around the room and grabs his shredded camo trousers from the floor with a curse.

Wizards are notoriously poor with domestic magic; cooking, mending, and cleaning spells are often beyond them. Ice is seemingly no exception, given the regretful way he eyes the garment. Despite the tension between us, the frustration on his face tugs at my heart.

Quickly, I retrieve my wand and wave it in the direction of his trousers. Moments later, they look new—tears mended and bloodstains gone.

His gaze bounces up to me, gratitude shining there. “Thank you. You’re quite good at that.”

I shrug and shove my feet into trainers. “Loads of practice. I need to see if Bram is awake, but… No matter what happens, whether you escaped because of Shock’s assistance or the Doomsday Diary’s magic, I’m beyond glad you’re here and safe.”

Before I give into my heart and say something impulsive, I turn away. Ice wraps his hand around my shoulder. His touch is a question, a request. It’s nearly my undoing. After this morning, I hoped… But I was foolish. Fate, culture, and family will always stand between us.

“You wrote in the Doomsday Diary for my safe return?”

I nod, knowing the next question he’ll ask. I can’t give him less than the truth. “It was my heart’s deepest desire. I wanted you here with me. I still do.”

Ice closes his eyes and shakes his head. “So fucking futile.”

“Why are you so certain my brother will refuse?”

Ice sighs. “There’s no point in dredging up the past when it won’t change the future, and I don’t want you to think ill of the brother you’ve always idolized. The way he treated me is of no concern to you.”

Shirtless, Ice shoulders his way past me, his back nearly healed. Then he stops and glances back, his face softening. “Go see Bram. I’ll be beside you if you need me.”

Then he leaves the room. I follow, dread and uncertainty brewing in my gut. My brother’s health, my relationship with Ice, the threat to magickind—so many consuming issues assailing me at once. But I must endure it and press on. Time to use my spine…

I hurry to the closed door of Bram’s quarters. Ice steps aside as I push it open. Then he follows me inside.

Bram lies still, eyes closed. But the black cloud shrouding him is blessedly gone.

So is the dark healer.

Hope surges, and I look to the other wizards in the room. Duke reclines in the wing chair in the corner while Lucan perches on the edge of the bed. “Has he awakened yet?”

Lucan doesn’t answer, merely studies me before sliding a suspicious stare to Ice.

His blue eyes narrow. So much has happened since Ice Called to me…

I forgot that none of the other Doomsday Brethren know.

But one glance at Ice’s magical signature shouts the truth.

Coupled with the fact we must both be glowing with energy… I wince.

My brother’s best friend leaps to his feet. “You fucking bastard! You dare touch Sabelle?”

Ice rushes to the middle of the room, positioning his body protectively between Lucan and me. “At least I wasn’t a dangerous madman mourning another witch while I had Sabelle in my bed. I didn’t steal her energy while nearly strangling her. I would never hurt or use the princess.”

The magical world is falling apart, and the last thing we need now is infighting.

With a huff, I try to wedge myself between the two big wizards. If I don’t, I fear they’ll start trading blows or hexes. Ice merely nudges me behind him again, this time issuing me a side-eyed warning.

Lucan scoffs. “Don’t pretend you’re noble or heroic. Clearly, you’re extracting revenge against Bram. Are you hoping to crush him by taking his only sister? Tit for tat?”

Ice has a sister? And Bram somehow took her? I don’t know anything about this. Why? And what else don’t I know about the brother who raised me?

Beside me, Ice goes deadly still, his entire body radiating lethal tension. When he speaks, his voice is barely controlled fury. “My sister is dead, MacTavish. She has been for two hundred years. And your precious Bram knows exactly why.”

“Answer him, Rykard. I’d like to hear your response to that question myself,” drawls a familiar, unexpected voice.

I whirl to find a familiar pair of blue eyes wide open. “Bram!”

Relief lifts a thousand pounds off my psyche.

I shoulder my way past Ice and run to Bram, throwing my arms around the sibling who’s always represented safety and comfort.

He clutches me protectively…but I feel him glaring daggers over my shoulder at Ice.

The malevolence of that stare is like toxic radiation poisoning the room.

“Are you all right? Feeling better?” I ask.

“I’m alive,” Bram snaps before he sneers at Ice. “Answer Lucan. This, I want to hear.”

Isdernus casts me a pained glance, then turns back to the other wizards with a growl.

“I Called to Sabelle because instinct told me she’s mine, not because I sought some petty revenge.

I treasure her. I would lay down my life for her.

Hell, I very nearly did.” He turns a narrow-eyed stare of judgment on Lucan.

“Since you merely saw Sabelle as a source of energy, take your righteous anger and shove it up your arse.”

“I would far rather shove my fist down your throat.” Veins pop out from Lucan’s neck. He looks seconds from attacking.

“You’re welcome to try.” Ice raises a black brow, not backing down an inch. “See what that gets you.”

“Stop it! All of you! Now isn’t the time to worry about my romantic life. We have more pressing concerns.” I turn to Bram. “How are you feeling? How?—”

“I warned you never to touch her, not even to shake her hand.” My brother refuses to let it go. “To know that you fu–”

“Bram!” I’m both furious and unbelievably embarrassed. “Stop it. I’m a grown witch. Magickind needs your attention and guidance far more than I.”

“This isn’t over,” Bram all but threatens Ice, ignoring my shock. “Where the bloody hell am I?”

“Sterling MacTavish’s estate,” Duke supplies. “Mathias and the Anarki attacked Goldcroft Manor a few days past. I fear…it’s rubble.”

Thunder storms across my brother’s face, and I feel the irrational need to defend myself, as if the Anarki attack is somehow my fault. “The defenses were down with you unconscious. We had no opportunity to build them back up before…” I swallow. “I’m sorry.”

He closes his eyes and lets loose a sigh that sounds far closer to a growl. “It’s not your fault.”

I’m relieved by his assessment, but when he looks my way again, his glare sends a chill down my spine. Involuntarily, I step back. He’s Bram…yet something about him is off. His face is devoid of its usual warmth. He almost looks…soulless.

Did Mathias’s spell impact him in some way none of us can see? I don’t know, but the evil wizard is capable of dark deeds I can barely comprehend. How do I go about figuring out what’s happened to Bram?

“The healer,” I gasp out. “What did she do to you?”

Bram stares Ice down. In response, Isdernus raises an arrogant brow and glowers back, standing tall, his pose deceptively casual. With a final sneer, Bram dismisses Ice and settles his heavy stare on me.

The gesture seems so unlike him. It’s cold. Imperious. It reminds me of my mother’s cruel dismissals. Bram has never been one to shrug off anyone so callously, especially not a fellow warrior who just risked his life for our cause.

“You sent a witch in to heal me?” At my nod, he frowns as if trying to recollect the lost hours before dawn. “Thank you for that. I vaguely recall a female here last night. But everything felt like a dream.”

A closer look has me smothering a gasp. Bram’s magical signature looks…abnormal. Cracked. But he glows, a beacon of vitality and energy, the likes of which I have not seen since the morning after he first mated…

I don’t know what ails him magically, but…could the dark healer have been Emma? “Was the female familiar?”

He shrugs. “Did she tell you her name?”

“No. Did you remember seeing her? Speaking to her?”

Bram’s frown deepens. “Not…exactly.”

I can’t help but sigh in exasperation. “Then what happened? Tell me what you remember.”

“A hooded woman told me to break through the darkness inside me. She held my hand while I…” He grips his head, fingers pressing to his temples, as if warding off pain.

“I fought, but an insidious shadow lurked inside me, all but choking me with anger. And a clawing need to…dismiss her. Push her away. Leap to my feet and take over the world.” He gives a bitter laugh. “The need nearly overwhelmed me.”

I grip my brother tighter. I don’t understand. Did Mathias’s spell bring out his worst tendencies…or infest him with something evil? Or is this part of the dark cure?

Only time will tell how deeply he’s been impacted. I’ll watch Bram.

“Anything else?”

“The woman was…naked under her robes. She gave herself to me.” Bram sweeps a tired hand across his face. “But it must have been a dream.”

Because Bram is mated, and Emma is missing. That’s the most logical explanation. Unless…the “dark witch” really was his missing mate?

“Did you see Emma in your ‘dream’?” I ask.

“She’s gone,” Bram snarls. “As if she’s disappeared into the ether.”

Clearly, but is there any chance she came to Bram last night?

Or maybe the dark witch seeded a dream of his missing mate in my brother’s mind.

I’ve never dabbled in dark magic, so I don’t know how it works.

But despair fills me. Without a mate’s love to save his soul, will the darkness inside him slowly destroy him?

“And when I find the slippery little human…” His smile stretches menacingly across his face. “She’ll answer to me .”

I inch away. Bram is back with me…yet this is not exactly him.

He’s angrier, less patient, more confrontational.

He’s always been a diplomat. A thinker. I pray this is a mood, simply a side effect of the dark healing.

That my brother hasn’t been permanently altered by some remnant of Mathias’s magic.

“Later. Unfortunately, we have problems that require attention now,” Duke says, rising to his feet. “Welcome back from the relative dead, by the way.”

Bram flicks a glare Ice’s way again before settling his attention on Duke. “What problems?”

Simon quickly fills him in on MacKinnett’s murder and Blackbourne’s nomination of Mathias for the empty seat.

“Has anyone else on the Council suggested a nominee?” Bram demands to know.

Duke shakes his head. “Despite Sydney’s transcasts, most of those old blokes didn’t believe in Mathias’s return until yesterday, when he contacted them all personally and declared his intent. Blackbourne’s nomination corroborated it.”

“And still the prats have done nothing?” Angry incredulity explodes in his tone. “Spineless cowards, the lot of them.”

This bluntness is so unlike my cool, collected brother. Usually, Bram is diplomatic, even when he’s frustrated. He never openly insults Council members—especially in front of others. He’s behaving so out of character that I’m actually scared. What if the brother who raised me is gone forever?

Lucan’s voice turns cold. “You’re under my uncle’s roof. He’s just been convinced of Mathias’s return, and he’s quite shaken. I also doubt Tynan would appreciate your description of his grandfather.”

“The truth can be painful,” Bram spits.

“Name-calling will hardly solve our problems,” I point out. “A plan would be better.”

“You know quite well the cause of my anger, little sister.” Bram’s scowl slides again to Ice.

The deadly promise on his face fills me with dread, but that’s an excuse. I don’t for a single second believe that’s the sole cause of his odd behavior. Something is off with my brother, and I fear Mathias left a lasting mark.

Before I can protest, Bram goes on. “But your point is a good one, and I might know how to solve two problems at once. Lucan, your uncle has heirs independent of your father and his line, yes?”

“Indeed. He had three sons of his own, the eldest of whom now also has a son.”

“Excellent. If I nominate you for MacKinnett’s seat, no one can claim I’m disrupting the MacTavish family’s traditional succession.”

“That was Tynan’s suggestion as well,” Lucan concedes. “But the Council will likely protest two members from the same family.”

“In desperate times? When they’ve all shown such an appalling lack of leadership? They shouldn’t. You’ve proven you’re a man of reason. They respect you.”

“Perhaps, but my claim isn’t as strong as, say, Alfred Hexham.”

“Who?” Duke asks.

“He was a mere boy when his father passed to his nextlife. Alfred Senior had no other heirs to keep the seat in the family, so the Council at the time voted to bestow the seat on MacKinnett precisely because he was elderly and had no heirs. My uncle told me everyone assumed that by the time MacKinnett passed, Hexham would be ready.”

Bram snorts. “Alfred Hexham is an idiot who should not be allowed to make decisions about his own life, much less anyone else’s. His presence on the Council won’t be tolerated.”

My brother’s assessment is harsh…but unfortunately true.

Still the venom in his voice unnerves me.

He sounds beyond dismissive, almost mean.

The brother I know would have found a more diplomatic way to express that same sentiment.

I’m beginning to wonder if this is more than the lingering effects of Mathias’s spell.

Is it possible someone else—someone evil—is wearing Bram’s face and speaking with his voice?

“He’s not the wizard his father was,” Lucan concedes, “but?—”

“No buts. Your point is well taken, and we will simply give you a stronger claim, especially since you currently have no heirs. In order to keep Mathias off the Council, I’ll require solid allies who will vote in solidarity with me.

If I can count on you, your uncle, and Clifden O’Shea, we’ll have enough to keep Mathias out. ”

“True,” I say. “But how will you give Lucan a stronger claim than Hexham?”

“By making an advantageous mating to a very Privileged witch with an impeccable bloodline.” Bram smiles as he slides Ice another nasty glare before settling his heavy stare on me. “In short, dear sister, by mating him to you.”