Page 51 of Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren #4)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Ice

W hen I hear my name fall from Sabelle’s lips, my heart pounds with equal parts terror and impossible hope. Me—a Deprived madman—on the Council? The very thing I begged Bram for centuries ago, now offered by the woman I love.

The moment she ends the connection with Spencer, Bram shakes free and bolts to his feet, tearing across the room toward her. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

As I grab Bram’s arm again, yanking him away from his sister, I wonder the same thing. Where did Sabelle get the mad idea to nominate me for the Council? Bram would have to do it officially, of course, and I have no doubt he would cut out his tongue before complying.

Pocketing Bram’s transcast mirror, Sabelle turns on her brother with flashing blue eyes.

“Shove down that destructive fury Mathias left you with and think. Blackbourne and Spencer are afraid. Mathias is more than they can take on, and they know it. They hope that, by appearing to be an ally, he won’t turn his violence on them. "

“Idiots. Appeasement never works with tyrants like him.”

“You’re right. But the best I could do was use their arguments against them. They’re afraid of a Deprived uprising because the group has no Council representation? Then give them a seat at the table. We’ve been talking about this for decades anyway.”

“Spencer lied. He and Blackbourne are old bastards, afraid of losing their power. They’ve fought me since the day I assumed my seat. They know change is coming, and that I’ll bring it.”

“Exactly, but that’s the beauty of my plan: If you nominate Ice, he should pacify the very people they claim to accommodate.

So if Blackbourne and Spencer still vote for Mathias, you’ve boxed them into a corner.

They’ll appear to support evil. That should lessen their influence.

And we both know that Mathias will kill them once their usefulness is at an end.

Either way, through their cowardice, they’ll have signed their own death warrants. ”

Bram appears to consider her suggestion. Then the fight leaves him. Slowly, I let him go.

Sabelle’s ploy shocks me. I know she’s clever, but her mastery of politics astounds me. She understands the Councilmen well, what motivates them, what they want and fear. She found a way to use their lies against them. Pride bursts from my chest…even as I know I’ll have to decline her suggestion.

“Sabelle.” I cross the room and take her hand in mine. “Bram was right to refuse to nominate me after Gailene’s death. I’m…not Council material. They all think I’m mad. I don’t hold my temper well. My birth alone will ensure they never listen to?—”

“That’s rubbish!” she interrupts. “You’re strong and resilient. Smart. Once they get to know you, they’ll learn you’re not mad. And I firmly believe they need a temper or two to shake them out of their passivity.”

That’s what she thinks? Despite being born Deprived, I rarely felt less than equal—until Bram’s refusal and rejection all those years ago. I remember that moment of shame, the bile clogging my throat. The sting of humiliation. I’ve never forgotten—nor forgiven my former friend.

Can I get into political bed with someone I’ve long regarded for two centuries as my enemy? If I ever want to avenge Gailene, if I want to keep magickind from descending into chaos, do I have a choice?

“The Council elders have grown far too comfortable, and those who are left are putting their safety above those they’ve sworn to protect,” Sabelle points out.

“If you’re calm and logical and couch your arguments properly, they’ll listen to you—if you and Bram learn to work together.

And vote together. Along with Sterling and Tynan, you four will command the Council.

You’ll set the tone and standard. And you’ll control the policies. ”

I drink in her words. They swim in my head.

A Deprived who was born without a future suddenly becoming one of magickind’s seven most powerful wizards?

I’ve never craved power, only wanted it to stop Mathias from spreading evil.

Now…I feel compelled to ask myself some hard questions.

Even if Bram and I can tolerate each other, what do I have to offer the Council?

Bram has accused me of fixation on everything anti-Mathias.

What’s changed? What do I really know about governing magickind?

Sabelle turns to her brother. “In suggesting you nominate Ice, I’ve given you everything you’ve ever wanted in the way of Council power: majority control. All you have to do is bury the hatchet with him.”

Bram says nothing for long moments, merely stares at his sister with narrowed eyes and a furiously clenched jaw. I see him swallowing a verbal onslaught. He breathes through the rage I sense boiling under his skin and regards the minx with both awe and exasperation. I relate to his feelings.

“This is a moot question. The Social Order doesn’t allow Ice to occupy a Council seat. You know that.”

“That ancient resolution should be abolished. Apply the right pressure and make it happen. Don’t scowl at me. And don’t piss away this opportunity. It may never come again.”

Bram shrugs noncommittally. What the hell is running through his head?

“All right, genius. What about Helmsley Camden’s vote?” Bram raises a brow.

“Watch how you talk to her,” I growl. “She’s trying to help you and magickind, you ungrateful prat.”

“Fuck off.”

“Bram!” Sabelle chides. “Be nice, or I’ll ensure that every morsel of food you eat for the next month is stone cold.”

Sabelle’s brother huffs like he’s trying to hold back his wrath. “Camden may agree to having Lucan on the Council and give us the necessary fourth vote.”

My princess rolls her eyes—and shoves logic down Bram’s throat, proving how fierce she can be. “Doubtful. Clifden O'Shea refused to compromise his vote, and Mathias killed him for it. Why do you think Camden is still alive?”

Because he sold out. Sabelle is completely right. Again. Clever, clever female. She’s always had my respect, but today my esteem for her has risen by leaps and bounds.

“Think, Bram,” she goes on. “Blackbourne will vote for Mathias. He nominated the bastard, and not voting for him would not only be bad form but likely get him and his family murdered. But we have a chance of swaying Spencer by convincing him that there’s no love lost between you and Ice.”

Not a hard sell, really.

Bram and I exchange a glance before he scrubs a hand across his face. “I insist on talking to Camden first. We’ll offer him protection in exchange for a vote for Lucan.”

In the corner, Lucan clears his throat. “Nominate Ice. It’s a better move. Sabelle is right.”

Whirling on his friend, Bram glares like he’s a Judas. “You’re giving up, just like that?”

“No. I’m deferring to the superior plan.

Think past that anger seething inside you—Mathias’s anger, I remind you—and that damned pride of yours.

You and Ice don’t see eye to eye. You both felt betrayed by one another, but that was two bloody centuries ago.

If we’re to prevent more bloodshed, we must use our heads. ”

Easy for Lucan to say; he wasn’t stabbed in the back by this over-privileged prick. Given his scowl, Bram clearly hates Lucan’s assertion even more than I. But damn, if he isn’t right. While I have no idea what sort of Councilman I’ll make, for Gailene’s and magickind’s sake, I’ll try.

“Thank you, Lucan.” Sabelle nods at the other wizard, then regards her brother. “To confirm my suspicions, I’ll contact Camden and see where his loyalties lie. I’m sure it’s in self-preservation, but?—”

“ I’ll contact him,” Bram argues.

“So you can conduct the same sort of delicate conversation you tried with Spencer?” Sabelle raises a golden brow at him. “Until you’re able to control your temper again, you should limit your conversations with others.”

“Your sister is right,” Lucan says softly, looping a casual arm around her shoulders. “You raised an exceedingly smart female.”

I can’t help it; I lunge at MacTavish, teeth bared, eyes slitted in warning. “Hands off.”

Lucan steps back, hands raised, then turns to Bram. “If you’re going to nominate him, do it via mirror where the others won’t see his signature and won’t know he’s Called to Sabelle. Unless…you let her Bind to him to give him the advantage you sought to give me.”

His suggestion stops my heart and steals my breath. It hangs in the silence. Seconds feel like decades as I turn to Bram.

“Shut the fuck up.” He rakes his hand through his hair and turns away, shoulders stiff.

He didn’t say no. Brutal hope flattens me.

I risk a glance Sabelle’s way. She meets my stare for just an instant, but that’s all it takes to feel the zing of need. My gaze turns hungry, and I wonder how to separate her from the others so I can wrap her in my arms and sink inside her again.

A little smile plays at her lips, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Breakfast anyone?”

Lucan is quick to respond. “If you’re cooking, yes.”

“I’m famished,” Bram says.

I’m not, but I nod. “Please.”

“I’ll…scrounge up some food. Lucan, why don’t you come along and ask the others what they’d like to eat.”

MacTavish hesitates, studying Sabelle’s face before he sighs. “Of course.”

What is she up to?

Everything inside me demands I follow her and ensure Lucan keeps his distance from her, be the only wizard to share her morning, her table, her bed, her life…

But after making a fool of myself moments ago, I push down the urge.

Logic. Lucan isn’t going to Call to her.

And as long as the remaining Council members believe I’m not allied with Bram, Sabelle can’t be mine.

But her stare pleads with me. Suddenly, I understand. She wants me to extend an olive branch to Bram and let the healing begin.