Page 41 of Possess Me at Midnight

Maybe. I hope. Or…

I don’t want to think about the or.

“If Mathias wants to eliminate a Council member so he could put himself in the wizard’s seat, he must either butcher the Councilman’s entire family or murder one without issue,” I murmur, almost afraid to speak above a whisper. “After his daughter and brother were murdered, Thomas MacKinnett had no remaining heirs.”

In other words, a prime target.

“Fuck,” Ice mutters.

I never say that word. But at this moment, I couldn’t agree more with his assessment.

I bend and retrieve a smashed picture of Thomas and his late daughter, Auropha. The frame is bent, the glass in pieces. The picture was clearly taken during happier times. I hold it to my chest and shove back an inconvenient onslaught of tears. Emotion now is a luxury, and we haven’t the time.

Ice wraps his arms around me. “This is hard for you.”

He doesn’t ask; he knows. I’m grateful for his intuition.

“I’ve known Thomas most of my life. I remember him visiting shortly after my transition. He brought me biscuits and candy and told me to regain my strength.” My voice cracks. “That magickind had just inducted one of the most important witches ever. Nonsense, but they were such kind words when I was feeling so weak and overwhelmed.”

The tears well again, and I wipe them away, determined to focus on our search. Upstairs or cellar? Either fills me with irrational fear.

“Was he one of Bram’s allies?”

“Since Mathias’s return? One of the few, yes.”

I swallow when I think of those implications. I’ve known that Bram was on the evil wizard’s hit list. But seeing MacKinnett’s noble estate in shambles makes the danger even more real.

“MacKinnett was the only other Council member who believed that Mathias had returned,” I murmur. “He could hardly deny it, since the bastard had taken his daughter from him and used her so callously, she bled to?—”

“I know.” Ice tightens his grip around me. “But we can’t stand here like bloody targets. Let’s search the rest of the house.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t leave Bram alone in the car.”

“He’s protected. It’s a calculated risk. But we can search the house more stealthily and effectively without him. And if we need to fight off the Anarki…”

We won’t have our hands full, so to speak. It’s true. I simply don’t like it.

I nod. “Let’s go upstairs first.”

With a squeeze of my hand, Ice leads me up. I’m ridiculously grateful for his support. He’s like a rock. As much as being here frightens me, I know I would be ten times more afraid without him. And he shoulders my fear without comment or question. Ice will make some witch a wonderful mate someday, and I curse the fact it can’t be me.

At the top of the stairs, more destruction abounds. Furniture tumbled about and smashed into pieces like matchsticks. Charred walls and floor. And the smell… Something sickly sweet assaults my nose.

We enter the hallway. Every door is closed, and Ice puts his hand on the first door’s latch. My stomach clenches as I stand behind his broad back. He sweeps the door open.

“Oh, god!” Ice bellows before slamming the door.

He sounds as if he might be sick. Still, he pushes me away from the door and tries to force me down the stairs. But I’m faster. Shutting me out so that I don’t know how ruthless an enemy we’re fighting isn’t an option.

I duck under Ice’s tattooed arm and fling the door open. The stench assaults me like a physical blow—terror, blood, and death tinge the air. I struggle to process the carnage. Corpses everywhere, frozen in horrific death. Men staked with knives to the walls, blood dried in rivulets from wrists, ankles, neck. Women obscenely displayed, naked and bound, Mathias’s symbol branded cruelly onto their exposed mounds. Dried blood cakes between their thighs, proving they were violated before death.

And the children—dear god, the children—hanging in a circle by their small, broken necks from ropes knotted to the rafters above, their faces twisted in terror.

Bile rises in my throat, but I slap a hand over my mouth and force it down. The strapping manservant who always helped me with my luggage and his wife, their two children, have all been tortured and murdered. The maid, the cook, the butler, and his son. Humans, all of them–now dead in a war they likely knew nothing about.

These people—the staff who greeted me with smiles, who served tea and carried luggage—they deserve justice. I will not look away from what we’re fighting against.

Ice grabs my wrist and hauls me out, shoving me into the hall and shutting the door behind him. “When I push you away, witch, it’s for a reason.”