Page 111 of Possess Me at Midnight

I’m stunned. Horrified. Afraid. “Can we…exorcise it?”

Shock snorts. “He is it. He can’t banish himself. Every time he loses his temper and lashes out? The shadow sinks its claws deeper into him and hastens the damage.”

“How long before it overtakes him?” Ice’s voice rumbles with barely contained horror.

“Depends how quickly he allows the rage to eat at him. Weeks. Months, if he learns some fucking restraint.” He smirks at Bram’s seething expression. “But that seems unlikely.”

Bram’s chair scrapes against stone as he lunges forward. “Are you saying there’s no fix for it? That this is fucking permanent?”

“Tsk, tsk. What did I say about controlling your temper?”

My brother lunges at him, threatening to come across the table and throw punches. Ice and Lucan haul him back and shove him into his chair.

“Bram, stop,” I insist. “You’re proving his point.”

Shock just laughs. “Fix a sundered soul? Who knows if it can even be done. You’ll need something that forces light and dark back together.”

“Like what?” Bram bites out.

“I don’t know.” Shock turns even more mocking. “Sacrifice? Hope? Love’s true kiss?”

Bram scoffs, but he’s gone pale. I see the flicker in his eyes before he shutters it.

I lean forward, my voice barely steady. “And if we can’t figure it out and heal him?”

Shock’s smile is pure poison, and his words are just as toxic. “Then Mathias gets exactly what he wanted. Either a monster who wears your brother’s face…” His pause is perfectly timed for maximum impact. “Or him six feet under.”

The sharp intake of my breath echoes in the sudden silence. Ice mutters a quiet curse.

Bram’s expression looks murderous, but he drags in a shuddering breath. “What is this spell? Where did it come from?”

Maybe knowing that will tell us where to find the cure…if it exists.

“It’s old magic. Filthy magic. Ripped from old grimoires when wizards used soulcraft to turn good men into monsters. Mathias probably rediscovered one and customized the spell. It doesn’t kill but lets the victim live long enough to destroy everything good around and inside him. No banishments or blessings will fix this. Bram’s fighting himself now—and he’s losing.” Shock’s smile turns predatory. “Of course, if I were Mathias, I’d be counting on exactly that. Nothing quite like having your enemy destroy himself from the inside out.”

Oh, my god. How am I going to heal my brother? How do I save someone from himself?

The weight of Bram’s condition settles over the room like a shroud, but the clock on the mantel chimes, reminding us that time is running short. In a few hours, Ice will face Mathias at Blackbourne’s estate—and we still don’t know what we’re walking into.

“Speaking of Mathias,” I say, forcing myself to focus on the immediate threat. “What do you know about this challenge? What should we expect?”

“What I know about Council challenges could fill a thimble. But what I know about Mathias?” His smile turns sharp as a blade. “You can count on him having a plan and discounting the rules, if need be.”

Bram nods. “Which is why I think we need to be smart and prepared.”

“Who’s to say that he won’t take every word you say back to Mathias?” Ice stands. “How do you know Shock isn’t a traitor?”

Shock shrugs. “You don’t. But I can hear in your thoughts that you and Bram discussed the challenge and battle tactics all night. You think you’re prepared. Don’t be surprised if he does something…unpredictable.”

“Which is why I think we should be prepared to do the same,” I add.

“I don’t trust you,” Ice growls at Shock.

“I don’t care. If you want to emerge from this alive, don’t come prepared to fight. Come prepared to fight dirty.”

Ice lunges at Shock. “Whose bloody side are you on? Why come here at all, unless it’s to spy on us for Mathias?”

“Do you really have time to worry about my motives?” Shock shoots back, then heads for the door without another word.