Chapter 13
Dove turnedher backside to the full-length mirror and slid her palms over her booty. Black spandex was not a good look for her. In her hands was the love child she’d conceived after her salted caramel affair. She smacked her ass affectionately. Nothing wrong with a little junk in the trunk.
Marcus warned her to dress in an understated fashion so as not to draw undue attention. She’d patched together pieces of his and Celeste’s wardrobe since she rarely wore black. It was such a gloomy color, dark and moody. Perfect for Marcus, not so much for her. She’d coordinated a pair of yoga pants and tank top with Marcus’s black T-shirt, the latter knotted at her waist. Tease out her hair and she’d look like Sandy from Grease, post makeover.
She peered in the mirror and flicked her tongue over her front teeth. “Tell me about it, stud.”
“What was that?” Marcus called from the common area.
“Nothing. Just getting ready.” She headed into the main room. Celeste sat beside Bishop at the small table. While he studiously stared at the laptop screen before him, Celeste stared at Bishop, stars in her eyes. Imaginary cupids twirled around her head.
Earlier today, Dove and Celeste had lounged at the pool, sipped daiquiris, and analyzed the men in their lives. It was totally cathartic. Now here Dove was, preparing for espionage. Her life was so strange these days.
Marcus stood before the open patio doors at the back of the room. She exhaled a sigh of disappointment. The hood had returned. After this morning, she’d hoped they were beyond this. Maybe in time he’d be comfortable enough to let his proverbial hair down. She certainly wasn’t one to hide her own imperfections. Case in point, the spandex currently stretched over her ass and thighs.
She joined him at the door, looking out at the moonlit water. “How’s it going? Bishop making any progress?”
Behind them, Bishop chicken-pecked the keyboard, his thick fingers punching one letter at a time, a dark scowl on his face.
“He’s better with blunt instruments,” Marcus said.
“Heard that,” Bishop growled.
Celeste chimed in, her voice tight with unrequited lust. “Slow and steady, slow and steady.”
Bishop grumbled under his breath, head down, refusing to acknowledge his admirer. Dove and Celeste had talked about the witch’s infatuation with the lycan as they lay in the sun, slathered in coconut sunscreen. They’d analyzed it. Put it through the grinder. Forward and back. Then reassembled it as only two women could.
Bishop was playing like he wasn’t interested, but Dove had caught him looking when her friend’s back was turned. More than once. Conclusion—Celeste was totally breaking him down.
In turn, Celeste made similar observations about Marcus. Dove was certain her friend needed glasses. Any sparks that may have ignited between them were totally a product of Xavier’s kinky pheromones. More than once Marcus had made it clear their arrangement was strictly business. Which was good. Right? Or was it? Yes. Yes. It was good because Dove planned to reunite with Armond and Vivian once her contract was fulfilled. Returning to her family was everything she desired. Her heart tripped, calling her a liar.
The subject of hours of girlfriend therapy turned to face her. Dove sensed Marcus’s hooded gaze travel over her form. Her heart rose in her chest. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes linger in all the right places? She drew her shoulders back, thrusting out her boobs and sucking in her stomach. What if Celeste was right? Did she want Celeste to be right?
Marcus unleashed a low growl and shook his head, clearing his throat. “What are you wearing?” This was far from a compliment.
She held out her arms, scanning her outfit. “Something wrong? You said understated.”
“I did,” he choked out. “I should have known better.”
“But I—”
“Time to go.” He snagged her hand, tugging her in his wake. They needed to be in the hallway at the same time the spirit appeared yesterday.
On their way to the door, Bishop raised his head. “Helen spent a week here, two months ago. You get me a copy of Xavier’s backup from that time, I’m sure I can break the encryption.” Under his breath, he muttered, “Unless it’s written in ancient hieroglyphics.”
“On it,” Marcus said.
“Yeah. On it. Over and out,” Dove chirped, fluttering her fingers at her friend. “Bye, Celeste. Have fun.”
“Bye, honey,” Celeste called out. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Dove snickered. After some of the stories Celeste shared with her today, that left a lot of moral wiggle room.
Marcus hustled Dove down the corridor, a firm grip on her hand. She skipped every other step just to keep up.
Suddenly, he stopped, spinning to face her, gaze flicking to her breasts before meeting her eyes. “Why are you… bouncing?”
She panted, out of breath. “Your legs are longer than mine.”
“You’re…” He seemed to struggle for control. “Distracting. For once, could you try to be inconspicuous?”
She frowned up at him. Did he not see her outfit? She was totally incognito. “Um, sure.”
“Someone’s coming,” he muttered.
Dove grabbed the front of his hooded jacket, spun her back to the wall, and pulled Marcus in front of her.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
She peered beneath his hood. “Quick, let’s make out. That’s what the undercover couples do in the movies so they don’t get caught.” She puckered her lips and closed her eyes.
Marcus’s heated growl flipped butterflies in her stomach. She popped her eyes open.
Behind him, a gentleman passed with a smirk on his face. “Good evening, Lord Steele.”
“Good evening,” Marcus said over his shoulder.
She released the grip she had on his lapels. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”
Marcus’s lips curled. “We are guests here, not intruders plotting to steal valuables. It won’t seem odd to find us in the hallways.” He canted his head, an antagonistic gleam in his dark gaze. “Unless you’re that desperate for me to kiss you?”
Dove stiffened. “What? Me?” She blew a raspberry, flipping a curl off her cheek. “You wish, Steele. Kissing me would blow your mind.”
“Would it now?” Rather than pull away, he planted a hand beside her, drawing closer. His smokey campfire fragrance filled her senses. Warmth permeated the meager space between them. The edge of his hood grazed her cheek, and she peered up at his unobscured features. Sure, he was still hiding his face from the world, but Dove—he was totally letting in.
Her insides melted, and she brushed her nose against his.
“Time to get moving,” he murmured, his words like feathers brushing her skin. Then he straightened, stepping back, his thick command rolling over her.
She shivered at the loss, pushing away from the wall. “Um, right. The mission.”
“Where did you see the spirit?”
Spirit? What spirit? Oh, that spirit. Come on, get it together, Dove. “Around the next corner.” This time, she led the way, eager to put a bit of distance between them.
In the next hallway, she slowed, Marcus close behind her. There was no sign of her ghost. She chewed her lip. If this didn’t work, Marcus would be so disappointed. She turned, apology on her lips. Suddenly, her glyph lit up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree. Celestial energy smacked her across the face. Dove stumbled and grabbed her chest, gasping. The freaking ghost had plowed through her.
Marcus cupped her elbows. “What’s wrong?”
“Now, that was just rude.” Nausea twisted her stomach. “He’s here. This way,” she whispered, trailing behind the spirit.
Same as before, the guard strode down the hallway, focused on his task, seeing nothing. All she’d have to do was peek over his shoulder and they’d have the code.
“Marcus,” said a female voice from the end of the hall. Dove’s heart skipped. Of all the rotten, no good timing. She fought the urge to stomp her foot.
The dark-haired viper sauntered toward them, hips swishing in a form-fitting dress.
“Carina,” Marcus said.
“Lucky me, bumping into you this way.” She spoke to Marcus as though Dove didn’t exist.
“I’m surprised to see you here.” Marcus’s tone was less than friendly. “I’d heard my uncle left the island early this morning.”
Carina fluttered a hand, oblivious to his disinterest. “You know how he is. Called away on urgent business. Work, work, work. Fortunately, he’s abandoned me in this beautiful resort. Left me all alone.”
Dove rolled her eyes. Lame. Worst pickup line ever.
“I’m sure you won’t be alone for long. Now, if you’ll excuse—”
Carina set her hand on his chest, sidling closer. Her manner seductive. “I was just headed back to my room to have a nightcap. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”
Dove jiggled her leg. Their ghost was almost at the security door. She angled her body between the two vampires. Though it killed her, she said, “You should go, Marcus. Have a drink. I’ll be fine here on my own.”
Both Marcus and Carina glared at her.
Dove patted Marcus’s shoulder. “Go on now, you crazy kids. Time’s a wasting. You’re only immortal once.”
Carina turned to Marcus. “It has a point.”
And they were back to the it thing. Dove wiggled her brows at Marcus and nudged her head toward the hallway. They needed Carina gone. Now.
“Perhaps I’ll walk with you a bit,” Marcus said tightly, and Carina was quick to tuck her arm into his elbow.
“Catch you later, alligator,” Dove said to their backs. Carina said something to Marcus, batting her lashes. Surely, Marcus wouldn’t take Carina up on her offer. Reuniting the former lovers wasn’t Dove’s best idea. Not that it was any of her business, since Steele wasn’t really hers. She ignored the pang in her chest, scurrying down the hall after the ghost. Just as he raised his hand to the pin pad, she drew up behind him.
After studying the pattern he punched in, she repeated it over and over in her head before the ghostly guard vanished into the door. She bit her lip and eyed the keypad. Her memory was crap. What if she forgot the number before Steele returned? With the hallway empty, this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Dang it. She wasn’t equipped for espionage. What if she did it wrong and an alarm went off?
Time to channel your inner Bond Girl, Dove. This isn’t the time to freeze.Before she could chicken out, she strode up to the keypad and punched in the number.
The panel glowed green and a soft click came from the lock. Her heart zipped. It worked! She glanced both ways, twisted the knob, and darted into the room.
It was a small space, maybe twelve by twelve. The wall in front of her was full of monitors. Images of the resort were on display. Fortunately, she didn’t spot an image of the security door. Thank goodness the console was unmanned.
On a shelf were dozens of thick binders, dates on the spine. Very old-school for the digital age. Then again, everything in Xavier’s resort had an ancient quality. Lucky for them, his security was the same.
She didn’t dare take the whole binder. Where would she hide it? Once she found the correct month, she grabbed several discs and tucked them into the front of her tank top. Just as she placed the binder back on the shelf, her glyph lit up, static sparking down her spine.
“You don’t belong here,” snarled a hair-raising voice.
“Sorry?” She spun and sucked in a breath. Before her was the security spirit. His ghostly image was brighter now, less transparent. He stared right at her.
“Hold up. You can see me?” Spirits without an attachment to loved ones tended to ignore the living. Not this guy. Apparently, he took his job seriously, even in the afterlife.
“You don’t belong here,” he repeated, taking a menacing step toward her.
Oh great, somehow, she’d broken his loop. “Um.” She glanced around her. “Silly me. I thought this was the bathroom. I’ll just be going.”
The desk chair whipped across the room, blocking her path to the door. Crap. Looked as though her friendly neighborhood Casper was level ten poltergeist. Worst of the worst. That meant it could do some damage.
She sidled behind the chair, her back to the monitors. “Hold on now, mister. Believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to cross me. I’m an uber-powerful necromancer and I will blast you into oblivion so fast it will make your chakras spin.” Except the well at her center was still on empty. Whatever Shadow-Steele had done to her while feeding last night had not only drained her physical body but her celestial.
“Thief,” the guard snarled, winging out his arm as though to backhand her.
Out of instinct, Dove threw up her arms to protect her head. Energy buffeted her cheek, and she cried out. To her relief, the strike glanced off her shoulder, merely throwing her off balance. That relief was short-lived. Monitors exploded. Glass cracked, and a shower of sparks rained down on her.
She dove to the side, bracing her back against the shelves. “You maniac! What are you, crazy?” No way this blockhead was human before he’d died. He must have been someone powerful in his previous life.
She had to get out of there, except the spirit stood between her and the doorway. Maybe she should go through him? Blech. Before she could commit to the plan, he slung out his arm. Energy blasted her in a wave. She ducked, avoiding the blow, and it struck the binders behind her. Metal creaked. The heavy shelf wobbled. Tipped. Oh, this was going to hurt. Possibly break a few bones. Goodbye, cruel world!
An explosion sounded. The door slammed inward on its hinges. Marcus plowed through the spirit’s body, grabbed her arm, and yanked her into his embrace. The metal shelf tumbled, striking the console, dumping thick binders everywhere.
Dove clung to Marcus’s waist, leaning into his strength.
“You don’t belong here,” snarled the spirit, standing in the middle of the carnage, binders jutting from his transparent form.
Marcus drew back his lips, baring fangs. His damaged flesh glowed beneath the fabric of his shirt. Red eyes blazed from the depths of his hood. Dark energy tingled her glyph, sending a fresh jolt of panic down her spine.
“She is mine,” Marcus snarled in a demonic voice.
Dove’s heart climbed up her throat. “Shadow?” Had he somehow surfaced with Steele awake? Oh, this was bad. Her savior glared directly at the spirit. He could see it? Whereas Marcus didn’t have the ability, it seemed his demon could see the ghost’s essence.
Shadows oozed down the walls like spilled blood. Slid along the floor, spiraling around the spirit’s feet.
“Don’t belong.” The ghost sank into the menacing cesspool. Sludgy ooze climbed up its legs. The guard’s image flickered. Perhaps sensing his end, he slashed out its arm, striking out.
Dove winced and tucked her face into Shadow-Steele’s chest. When nothing happened, she lifted her head.
Marcus stood with his hand thrust out, an eerie mist siphoning into his palm. The guard’s mystical form appeared to dissolve, his body turning into a dark blue vapor.
The apparition stared at its vanishing hands. “No,” it snarled.
Dove watched with a mixture of horror and fascination. Was Shadow consuming the spirit?
The image blinked. Once. Twice.
Gone.
The black scourge retreated the same way it appeared, sliding back, climbing the walls. Shadows thinned, the darkness fading. Behind them, one of the surviving monitors flickered to life.
“You okay?” said a smooth, even voice. Marcus’s voice.
Dark eyes, void of the demon’s presence, peered back at her from beneath his hood. The glow under his shirt, gone. Her glyph calm as tranquil waters. Nothing of the spirit realm remained.
“Yeah.” Maybe? Dove struggled to collect her thoughts. It was as though Shadow had consumed the spirit’s light. Snuffed it out like a wet match. Dread twisted her innards. Was the demon a soul reaper? “Are you? Okay?” she asked, peering beneath his hood. Marcus turned his head, avoiding her probing stare.
“Fine,” he said, tone curt.
She’d take that as a ‘no.’ However, even she knew this wasn’t the time to probe. The Shadow-Steele issue a worry for another time. “Let’s get out of here before we have to explain what happened.”
“Agreed.” Steele tucked her under his arm, guiding her to the door. He glanced back. “Think they’ll notice we were here?” Cracking a joke? If so, it was the first she’d ever heard from him.
Dove looked back at the damaged security room. Monitors fizzled, spitting sparks. Binders and paper littered the floor. Tornados did less damage.
“Good news is, they won’t recognize what’s missing.” She wrapped her arm around his waist. “Don’t worry. I have what you’re looking for in my bra.”
Marcus squeezed her shoulder, laughter in his tone. “Good girl.”
“Can you zoom in?”Marcus sat beside Bishop at the table in their suite. The laptop with Helen and her lover’s image rested before them. In the video, the couple walked hand in hand along the corridor. With Helen in hiding, there was an excellent chance they were together. If she wasn’t with him, they’d hunt the bastard down and convince him to share her location.
“Give me a second.” Bishop hammered the keys with his tattooed fingers.
“Tell me again where you sent my friend,” Dove bellowed from the sofa.
Bishop exhaled a growl. “The witch is doing recon.” He shrugged a massive shoulder. “I told her to keep an eye on Xavier’s concierge. If he leaves the desk for any reason, she’s to let me know.”
Dove lurched upright, glaring at the lycan. “You mean you gave her busy work to keep her out of your hair.”
Bishop snickered. “Exactly.”
Dove flopped back, huffing a disgruntled sigh. “The second we’re done here, I’m bringing her back.”
Bishop’s scowl deepened. “If you must.” He spread two fingers on the touchpad. The image doubled, magnifying the male’s face. “You recognize him?”
Marcus leaned closer. “Seems familiar.”
“I’ll run it through facial recognition.” Bishop’s blunt fingers jack-hammered the keyboard. Minutes ticked by. “There.” The male’s stats filled the screen. Bright red letters were stamped over his official Council profile. Deceased. “Adam Sinclair. He’s a member of Victor Custodis’s guard, or at least he was.” Bishop poked the keyboard again. “Cause of death, classified.”
Marcus exhaled a growl. “Of course he’s deceased. It wouldn’t surprise me if Helen killed her lover to cover her tracks.” White hot fury tightened his body. He spoke past gritted teeth. “We wasted two days here only to hit another dead end. We can’t go on like this. I’m out of time.” May as well hammer another nail into his coffin.
“In what way, boss?” Bishop asked. “Something happen?”
Words stuck to Marcus’s tongue. Saying it out loud made it real. He was getting worse, his condition deteriorating rapidly.
Dove answered for him, her tone gentle. “His demon rose when we were in the security office. While Marcus was awake. The spirit is growing stronger. In the room, he… did something. I’m still not clear on what it was exactly, but it was some scary powerful stuff.”
For once, Marcus had been conscious the entire time, spectator to the demon’s antics. It wouldn’t be long until it was permanently attached to his soul. The damage to both his body and his life, irreparable. Marcus sure as fuck wasn’t going down before he made Helen pay.
He turned to Dove. “What do you need?”
She stiffened, drawing upright on the sofa. “To do what?”
“What do you need to perform the exorcism? Right now.”
“Marcus,” she said, eyes wide and pleading. “The chances of success are slim until we know more. I can’t reverse the process until I understand how the spirit got there in the first place. This possession is far from typical. If what Shadow says is true, and he’s from Carcerem and shouldn’t even exist on this plane, that means, regardless of my skill and knowledge, there’s no precedence for this kind of thing.”
“You’ll do it anyway.” Marcus lurched out of his chair. “No more stalling. I want it gone.”
She lowered her head, clenching her hands in her lap. “All the tasks you’ve given me. How many of them have gone exactly to plan?”
Zero.
She’d gotten the results he needed, just not in the way he wanted. Which meant his only hope was a walking disaster incapable of following simple directions. Regardless, she was all he had.
“Give up. You cannot defeat me,” whispered the voice in his head.
“Go to hell,” Marcus snarled back.
Over the last few days, Marcus had spent more time with Dove than he had any other female. Gotten to know her as well as come to appreciate her, for better or worse.
Sure, Dove was a chronic underachiever with untapped power. His research confirmed as much. But with the right persuasion, she’d have no choice but to follow through.
He stormed to the sofa, looming over the top of her. “You will study, you will prepare, and you will free me of this demon.”
Instead of shrinking as most did when faced with his wrath, she leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “Let it be said, up front, and my instructors at Havenhouse will agree. I do not perform well under pressure and tend to act out when those in authority try to force me.”
“She’s right. It says as much in her file,” Bishop contributed.
“Just tell me what you need,” Marcus demanded, ignoring her excuses.
Dove snarled back, “Off the top of my head, I’d say a location that holds deep roots for you. A place entrenched in your family line. If they’re buried on the grounds, even better. That will help me to separate what is you and what is demon. Direct access to magical ley lines would be helpful because we’re dealing with a powerful entity. I’ll need a bank of endless power at my fingertips to supplement my supply, and believe me, your demon has quite the appetite. Also, a book titled Exorcism For Dummies since I’ve never done this before. Along with twenty pounds of salted caramels and a masseuse who could double for Jason Momoa to rub the tension from my shoulders.”
At the mention of the other male’s name, fury burned in his insides. “Who is this Jason you speak of?”
Dove smacked the pillow beside her. “All the things I listed, and that is what you focus on?”
“We will kill him. Ssslowly,” snarled the demon.
“Shut up!” It was getting harder to lock out the bastard’s voice. Marcus reinforced his mental walls, his temples pounding.
“Place with familial roots,” Bishop said. “You could use your ancestral home. I’d have to check about the ley lines. Your family being vampire, there wasn’t much need. Still, many of the older dwellings were built over magical hotspots, those of the underworld being naturally drawn to them.”
Marcus exhaled, stepping away from Dove. “Both of my parents are buried on the grounds. I haven’t been back since my father’s death.” Returning would be… uncomfortable.
Dove raked a hand through her hair. Strain tightened her eyes. “I’ll need to track down a few books, gather supplies. It will take some time to prepare.”
“You have two days.”
She lurched upright again. “Two days? But that isn’t nearly enough. Maybe if I asked Celeste—”
“No. She hasn’t sworn a blood oath to me and cannot guarantee my privacy. Already, she knows too much. If word of this gets out, I could lose everything. Celeste cannot be involved.”
Bishop snorted his approval, grumbling, “Good. I grow weary of the witch treating me like a piece of man-meat.”
Dove pressed her lips together, her eyes filling with mirth. Then she coughed, growing somber again. “If this works and you’re free of the demon, does it mean you’ll give up your hunt for Helen?”
Vengeance rumbled in his veins.
“No,” he stated, covering his insatiable rage. “She has much to answer for. Also, I still need her to clear my name. To prove I have zero ties to her or Zion. Without that, I could be convicted as a conspirator.”
Dove grew pensive. “Is that all this is really about? Clearing your name? Or is it something more? Because if vengeance is all you’re after, I’m out. I’ve witnessed firsthand the toll it takes. Revenge and justice are not the same thing. In the long run, you’re better off using what you’ve suffered to bring about change. Vivian taught me that. She used her experience at the hands of her abusive ex to create something positive. Used it to build a women’s shelter.”
Who was Dove to preach to him about the price of revenge? From what he’d seen, her entire life was full of rainbows and unicorns. Did she want him to erect a memorial to all those who’d been screwed by trusted friends? There wasn’t enough land. “Let me worry about the state of my eternal soul. You focus on ridding me of this thing that’s invaded my body.”
Dove grew quiet, her expression sulky. “Remember, that thing is what helped us to get free of that security guard. It’s possible it isn’t all bad.”
“Did you just dare to defend it to me?” His blood boiled, possessive urges rising. “Have you formed an attachment to the creature?” After all, the bastard had fed from her. An intimate act reserved for her benefactor.
For me. She is mine.For once, the voice in his head was strictly his own. As it should be.
“What? No.” Dove’s eyes betrayed her, darting to the left, dodging his glare.
“I’m going to check on Celeste,” Bishop grumbled, rising from his chair and heading for the door.
“Unbelievable.” Marcus stormed to the table and slammed the laptop shut.
“Now wait.” Dove hopped off the sofa, trailing after him. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Putting words in my mouth.”
The front door clicked closed on Bishop’s retreating frame. Coward.
Marcus turned on his disloyal Chosen. “Tell me you want it destroyed.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I… can’t do that.”
He seethed, nostrils flaring.
“Marcus, wait.” She stepped closer, holding her hand out. “If you could take a step back, you’d see you’re both victims here. Neither of you wanted to be tied to the other. While you feel he is trapped inside of you, the demon feels caged. In some ways, you’re the same. How is your plight more important than his when the circumstances are the same?”
He stepped closer, bearing down on her. “This discussion is over. I need to know you will put me first in this. Your allegiance is to me, not to the demon. Remember, you signed a contract. Betray me and you will never see Vivian again.”
At the threat, her face fell, hurt darkening her eyes. She stiffened, stepping back from him. He felt her withdrawal like a physical blow. Too late, he realized he didn’t enjoy seeing her light dim. Still, he needed to know where she stood. This was too important.
“You’re right,” she said in a flat tone. “We share a blood bond. I gave you my oath and signed a contract. I am sworn to put you first.”
“Good.” Gods help him. His life was in the hands of this tender-hearted necromancer, one who seemed determined to fall short of every expectation. He had little patience for her misguided sympathies. Helen had screwed him over in the worst way possible because he’d trusted her. It was a lesson he didn’t intend to repeat.