Page 41 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Thirty

B ram’s demand feels like a slap. The brother who rescued me as a child from a mother hellbent on selling me into a loveless mating is now demanding I enter one.

With his best friend. To serve his ambitions.

I’ve always known the union I entered into would be for magickind’s benefit, but Bram promised he would discuss any such political joining with me first. Now he’s all but forcing me with an insistence that feels cruel.

This isn’t my brother speaking. It can’t be.

I whirl on him. “Are you out of your bloody mind?”

“No. He’s merely stopped pretending he’s a good guy,” Ice drawls.

Bram raises a superior blond brow at him, jaw clenched.

“Lucan is from a respected family. You know he makes a faithful, considerate mate. He cares for you. The union will increase stature for you both. His claim to MacKinnett’s seat will be stronger because of you.

Mathias will have less opportunity to wage his war from the Council and destroy innocent lives in his lust for power. Why would you ever object?”

What Bram says is true, and yet…everything inside me rebels. Defying my beloved brother hurts…but this tyrant is nothing like the wizard who raised me. “Because my heart is engaged elsewhere.”

For a long moment, no one speaks. Tension bounces off the walls.

Bram’s gaze cuts a lethal glower at Ice. I hold my breath. I should explain—fast. But not with an audience.

I glance out the window at the foggy gray dawn, ignoring Ice and Lucan, both hovering nearby. “Could everyone leave us for a moment, please? I’d like to speak to my brother.”

Duke all but runs out of the room, clearly eager to avoid family drama.

No surprise since he’s got a fair amount of his own.

Lucan is slower to depart. He tries to catch my eye as he reaches for me.

Resolutely, I avert my profile and tense against the touch I know is coming.

Lucan sighs and wisely drops his hand before leaving. Now, Bram, Ice, and I remain.

“I have something to say as well.” Ice pins my brother with a glare that means business.

“Pleading your case to mate with my sister?” Bram’s expression says he finds even the notion ridiculous.

My heart threatens to beat out of my chest. Will Ice truly press his suit with Bram now? It seems ill-advised at best, a disaster in the making at worst.

“Wait, Ice. I?—”

“No,” he objects. “I intend to have my say before your brother shoves this fucking farce down your throat.”

“Farce, is it?” Bram huffs. “I rather look at it as protecting my sister and magickind all at once.”

“While you further your ambitions.” Ice clenches his fists, refusing to back down. “I would care for Sabelle always, putting her needs, wishes, and safety above my own.”

Bram scoffs. “Pretty words are easy. And I would expect no less of any wizard with whom she mates.”

“Lucan does not love her. I do.”

That admission melts my battered heart. Ice lays himself completely bare at my feet, despite the fact it makes him vulnerable before my brother.

Bram is hardly in the proper frame of mind to appreciate his declaration. “You presume to know what’s in Lucan’s heart?”

“As if it’s any fucking secret?” Ice snarls.

“Next time he’s near Anka, watch him pine for her.

Burn for her. Love her with every cell in his body.

Unless you’ve turned blind in the face of your Council ambitions, you’ll see it.

If Lucan loves Sabelle, it’s as a friend.

He’s grateful for her care during his mate mourning, as he should be.

But a mating between them would be wrong. ”

“No, mating her with you would be wrong. Having Lucan beside her would be advantageous for most everyone, especially the innocents likely to be slaughtered should Mathias obtain the votes to fill MacKinnett’s seat. If Lucan does not yet love her, he will grow to in time.”

“Bram,” I cut in. “You always swore we would discuss my mating before I spoke the Binding to anyone. I’ve kept my end of the bargain, waiting after Ice Called so I can discuss my wishes with you now. I can’t deny that you saved me from my mother’s terrible plans, but?—”

“But nothing. I know what is best for you.”

That gets my back up. “I’m a full-grown witch. I’m capable of making my own decisions.”

Ice crosses his massive arms over his chest. “She’s more capable than you. How is your scheme any bloody better?”

My brother ignores him. “Lucan is your friend. You’ve known him for most of your life. You’ve become…familiar with his touch. Yet you dare insinuate that I’m whoring your freedom to a stranger?”

It’s as if he’s willfully misunderstanding. I take a deep breath and tell myself to tread carefully. This Bram, who’s been infected by Mathias’s evil spell, isn’t the same brother I know and love. His ambition to control the Council has always existed, but he was cautious. He checked it. Now?

I’ve never seen him so ruthless.

“There must be another witch with whom Lucan can mate and gain credibility.” I try to think of one.

“Who? It must be someone closely related to a Council member. Mathias murdered MacKinnett’s daughter, Auropha.

O’Shea has no female descendants. Camden has no heirs at all.

Blackbourne has already sided with the enemy.

Spencer’s only daughter has scarcely transitioned, and the lot of them have proven dodgy, besides. That leaves you.”

Though his assessment is cutting, he’s right. My frustration boils. “You’re sacrificing my happiness for your own.”

Bram’s eyes narrow as he stands. “Am I, really? You’ve long gone out of your way to help the cause, even when I ordered you to cease.

You understand that no one will know a shred of happiness if Mathias is elected to the Council.

Casualties will be high, particularly among existing Councilmen and their families.

He will seek to replace me and any who oppose him with his puppets.

To do that, he must kill every opponent and their families—every last man, woman, and youngling. ”

Dread spreads through my body, swallowing up my futile anger.

Despite Bram’s reasons for pushing me to mate with Lucan, I cannot fault his logic.

If Mathias earns MacKinnett’s Council seat, he will quickly enslave or kill everyone he perceives as his enemy.

The women… I shudder, remembering Anka’s ordeal and the bodies of MacKinnett’s female servants.

If Mathias has his way, he’ll leave thousands of those tortured, broken souls in his wake.

“Besides, you may think now that Rykard makes you happy, but he lacks the means to keep you in the lifestyle you prefer.”

I glance at Ice. His face holds all the warmth of a glacier, frozen with a mix of fury and humiliation. I’d slap my brother…if I was convinced he wasn’t still somehow impaired. “Don’t paint me with that shallow brush. Material things aren’t important. The man is.”

“The man…yes. Did you really imagine that he has no ulterior motive for Calling to you?”

I’ve already considered that possibility. But the real question is…are those potential reasons stronger than his feelings for me?

Ice steps forward. “Goddamn it, Rion. Stop browbeating your sister and?—”

“Does she know the truth?” my brother snaps.

Foreboding slithers up my spine.

Ice hesitates, resignation stealing across his face. “What purpose would telling her serve?”

“Telling me what? Stop talking about me as if I’m not standing right here!”

Neither wizard speaks, merely glares at each other with equal measures of resentment and resolve.

Finally, Ice sighs. “Mathias killed my sister, Gailene, when she was seventeen. He kept her for days, under the haze of Terriforz , before he tired of her and gave her to the Anarki. They delivered her shaved and branded corpse to my doorstep.”

I gasp, horror freezing my face. The brutal image sears itself into my mind—a seventeen-year-old girl, tortured and broken. How did I not know that Ice had endured such devastating loss? Why didn’t anyone tell me? My heart goes out to him and his visible grief.

Eyes tearing, I cup his cheek. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I?—”

“I was a new Councilman,” Bram cuts in. “Ice and I had been…friends prior to Gailene’s death.”

Friends? The idea staggers me. These two men who could barely be in the same room without violence were once…close?

Finally, I close my gaping mouth and force my brain to engage. “Where did you meet?”

“I was studying politics, shadowing the Council,” Ice explains, voice low. “I was still in school. Bram was my assigned mentor.”

The brother who raised me once guided the man I’m falling for? “And you considered yourselves friends?”

“I just said that,” Bram spits.

Fists clenched, I swallow back my temper. “I don’t need your anger or your snark. Neither are productive.”

My own brother shoots me a glare that’s horrifyingly emotionless.

“We were friends,” Ice answers with solemn green eyes. “After Gailene’s murder, I went to Bram, hoping he could help me seek justice.”

“Rubbish!” Bram shouts. “You demanded I use my influence on the Council to nominate you for the seat MacKinnett eventually occupied so you could avenge your sister.”

The notion is both idealistic and absurd. A Deprived on the Council? That hasn’t happened in nearly half a millennium, since before the Social Order. Today, Bram might have the influence to seat Ice. But when he was new? No.

And I can guess what happened next.

I turn to Ice. “He refused you.”

“Naturally.”

“You felt betrayed?”

He grits his teeth, then nods, his jaw so taut I wonder if it will shatter. “Can you blame me?”

For the assumption, yes. For not understanding the inner workings of the Council? No.

“After I refused to use my influence for his personal advantage, he turned bitter.” Bram sends Ice a damning glare. “He lashed out. He said he hoped that someday he could show me the wretched feeling of losing a sister.”