Chapter 24
“It’s been a long time, darling.”Helen’s shrill timbre stabbed Marcus’s eardrum. He’d never been a fan of her piercing voice.
“Too long. We should get together, catch up.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she purred.
“You left in such a hurry.”
“In a blaze, I’d say.”
He loosened his tie and tossed it onto a chair, preparing for the battle ahead. “Looked to me as though you ran away with your tail between your legs.”
“Oh, my dearest.” She cackled. “How I’ve missed our banter.”
Cheers erupted, and he glanced at the arena. Bishop and Damion circled each other. The match had started.
Dove reached into Marcus’s jacket pocket and withdrew his personal cell phone. She held it out so he could punch in his code and dial his security team, then pressed it to her ear. “Hi, it’s Dove. Helen has contacted Marcus. Intercept any female you spot who’s talking on their phones. Forget whether they have headscarves. It’s just a diversion.”
“Mmm,” Helen purred. “Your new toy isn’t as stupid as she looks. Strange how she’s comfortable enough to riffle through your pockets. You were never so friendly with the others.” Her voice snapped with anger.
She was watching them. He scanned below. All heads were turned toward the fight. Balconies? He needed to keep her talking while he located her. “Tell me why, Helen.”
“Why what?” she quipped.
“You know what.”
“Why did I stay with you when you took me for granted?” she asked, getting louder. “Why stand in your shadow when I could have run every one of your investments without you?” Her voice rose. “Why let you take the credit for my hard work? Why stand on the sidelines, invisible to you, while you screwed one harlot after another?”
“Ah, so it was jealousy. I should have realized you weren’t above such trivial things,” he stated with a deliberate snort of derision.
“I was not jealous,” Helen screeched, voice echoing beyond the phone. Up high. On his left. He narrowed his eyes, scanning each balcony.
He backed against the wall, concealing himself in shadows. “Admit it, Helen. You were in love with me and felt wounded when I rejected you.”
Halfway around the arena, he made out the silhouette of a slender woman with their hand pressed to their ear. His muscles tightened. Got you.
“You flatter yourself, Steele,” she scoffed.
He grabbed Dove’s arm, and she flinched, glancing up at him. Eyes boring into her, he mouthed—stay here—then slipped out the door. In the corridor, he motioned for two of his guards to remain. Then he set off in Helen’s direction.
“Regardless, you have my full attention now,” he parried.
“I do, don’t I,” Helen said, a smile in her voice. “Sadly, as flattering as your obsession with me has been, it’s time you gave up the chase. Zion grows bored with your interference. It’s difficult to perform my job with your dogs sniffing after me. Face it, Steele, finding me won’t help your cause.”
“What cause is that?” He dodged a man, careening around a golden trashcan.
“Games, games, games. Always with the games. You’re so afraid to let anyone in. Had you done so, perhaps none of this would have happened. Let’s cut to the chase. Your search for me is a complete waste of time. I can’t help you. The plan to ruin you wasn’t my doing.”
He’d sooner believe pigs could breathe fire. “Why should I trust anything you say? Convince me.”
“It’s simple. Because I wanted you dead, not humbled. No crippling injuries, no investigations, no secrets. Unfortunately, someone else interfered. That someone preferred you alive. Castrated, but alive.”
“And the evidence you left, tying me to Zion? I’m to believe you had nothing to do with that?”
“Again with the accusations.” She sighed. “And now you sound as stupid as that bodyguard of yours. It’s a shame you’re missing his match, by the way. Ouch,” she said, voice full of mock sympathy. In the arena, the crowd cheered. “Sorry to say he’s not doing well. Vengeance is a powerful motivator. Do you suppose Damien will hold back if given the opportunity to land a killing blow?”
That meant she’d seen Marcus leave but remained on the balcony. He needed her to keep talking. Keep her distracted.
“Speaking of killing blows, I saw Adam,” he said.
Silence followed. Satisfaction curled his lips. Finally, he’d gotten to her. “Helen?”
“How was he?”
“Dead.”
She snorted. “I’d heard as much.”
“Seems to be a trend with the males closest to you.”
“Adam served a purpose. Until he didn’t.”
Rustling sounded. Like she was on the move. Not good. “What about me?”
“You…” She paused and exhaled a sigh he almost believed was genuine. “You got nosy. The one time you didn’t delegate the drudgery of management to an underling. You finally saw me, only to drive a knife into my back.”
He savored that image. His vision blurring. “Yesss,” his demon purred. “We will vanquish all who betray usss. All who pose a threat.” More and more, he and his demon were of the same mind.
Marcus dragged his focus back to Helen. “I saw you alright. Saw your duplicity. Your disloyalty.”
“And that’s all you saw, you ungrateful prick. After everything I did for you,” she snapped. “I’m the one who was with you from the beginning. Me. Not your flighty bird. I pity her, really. Poor dear. No doubt, she believes she’s in love with you. Thinks you’re capable of returning her affections. Little does she realize you only love yourself.”
At last, he stood before her door. “You know nothing.” He winged it open. Startled guests spun his way. No Helen. Fuck!
Helen laughed. “Again, you underestimate me. Poor Marcus, too full of yourself to see beyond the end of your aristocratic nose. Too focused on your position and your clan. Too blind to recognize what is right in front of you. Tell me, did you investigate the books for all of your holdings or just the ones I managed?”
He hesitated to respond, racing into the corridor to the next door.
“Let me guess, you stopped digging when you stumbled upon the most obvious answer. Such narrow thinking. Maybe that demon you’re hosting will open your eyes. Give you a new perspective.”
He wasn’t surprised she knew about his possession. After all, she was likely the one who’d given him Shadow. “That’s the part of this I can’t figure out. How did you do it? How did you get your hands on the demon?”
“Again, you blame me.” She sighed, only this time it sounded false. “So predictable. I suppose I should be flattered by this obsession of yours.” She cleared her throat. “Perhaps I’ll help you, for old times’ sake.”
He threw open the next door. His heart soared in his chest, only to sink. Empty. “I’m listening.”
“Tell me. Who do you know that has the resources to bind you to a rare demon entity from another dimension?”
He retreated back into the corridor. “Now who’s playing games?”
She chuckled. “I learned from the best.”
He scanned the people darting past and sucked in a breath. At the end of the hallway, near the exit to the stairwell, he spotted her. Helen looked just as he remembered. The way she appeared in his nightmares; boxy dress, bony knees, blond hair drawn into a tight chignon. She stared back at him, a maniacal gleam in her heartless eyes.
He braced his legs, ready to charge if she moved an inch. “Game over, Helen. Surrender to me, and I’ll ask the Council to go easy on you.”
“You disappoint me, Steele.” She pursed narrow lips. “After all I’ve told you, you still believe I am your enemy. This is why I sided with Zion. Because men like you refuse to open your eyes. To see what is right under your nose.”
Screams erupted in the arena. Behind him, doors flung open. Patrons fled the building.
Marcus’s demon surfaced, snarling, “Our female needs us. She is in danger. Sense her fear.” Shadows ripped from his core, slid across the floor, shot up the walls. Lights flickered. Sparked.
“Ah, I see my distraction has arrived. Right about now, it’s tearing through your only friend and targeting your little bird. What’s it going to be, Steele? Which of us is more important to you?”
Marcus glanced behind him in Dove’s direction. Then back to Helen, the female he needed to reclaim his former life. More than ever, his body was torn in half. He was so close. So close to his salvation.
Dove heldher breath as Marcus battled Helen over the phone. Suddenly, he grabbed her arm, mouthing stay here, and raced out the door. She turned to Celeste, heart pounding in her throat. This wasn’t the plan. He wasn’t supposed to engage Helen himself. After all, he had an entire team at his disposal for just this sort of thing.
Celeste planted her hands on her hips, scowling. “Alright. What the heck is going on?”
“I guess there’s no reason not to tell you at this point. Bishop and Marcus came here tonight to set a trap for Helen.”
“By the goddess,” Celeste huffed an exasperated breath. “The only person they’ve caught so far with this crazy plan is Bishop.”
Dove feared she was right. She slapped her hands to her cheeks, drawing them down, stretching her lower eyelids. “This is a disaster.”
“Now, now. Let’s not panic.” Celeste patted her shoulder, perhaps sensing her impending breakdown. “Both Bishop and Steele are more than capable.”
The crowd cheered, but Dove was too afraid to see which of the lycans they championed. “Fine. Tell me honestly, do you think Bishop can hold his own against his nemesis?”
Celeste smirked. “Look for yourself.”
Dove dared to peek down at the ring. Bishop landed punch after punch to Damion’s ribs. Minutes into the match, and the other man was bleeding from multiple wounds. Below them, the crowd was going nuts.
“Oh, wow.” Dove released her cheeks, taking in the scene. The medallion on Bishop’s chest blazed, the magical restraint allowing only a partial shift. Still, razor-sharp claws tipped his fingers. Powerful muscles bulged over his massive frame. Lupine angles elongated his face. No wonder Celeste was so hot to see him fight. “I’ve never seen a shifted lycan before.”
“Pretty awesome, right?”
“Um, yes?” Also, a little terrifying.
“He’s got him now.” Celeste beamed like a proud soccer mom.
Bishop straddled his fallen opponent, flung his clawed hands out to his sides, and roared. He glared down at Damian, demanding, “Submit to me.”
Celeste shivered, rubbing goose bumps on her forearms. “Oh, that gets me every time. Um hum, I’d submit to him so good.”
Glaring at Bishop in defiance, the defeated lycan slammed his fist into his own thigh, chucking what he held at the bars. “Never,” he bellowed, spit flying from his bloody lips.
At the place where Damien struck himself, black veins blossomed, creeping up his leg.
“What’s going on?” Dove gasped.
“I’m not sure. Looks like Damien injected himself with something?” Celeste leaned over the balcony in a failed attempt to see better.
“I thought you said it was illegal?”
“Shit,” Celeste cursed. “Some of my customers were talking about side effects and those horrible black veins. I think it may have been Zion’s drug, black ice.”
Bishop stepped away from the convulsing man, confusion plain on his lupine face.
“Oh goddess. Look at the bastard,” Celeste said, quiver in her voice. “He’s getting bigger.”
Damian turned onto his hands and knees. Muscles swelled in his back. Black veins wrapped around his torso. Bishop backed away, putting as much distance between them as possible, which wasn’t a lot.
“Looks like Damian sold his soul to the devil.”
“She devil more like,” Dove said. “I bet Helen had something to do with this.”
Damion stood up, faced Bishop, and unleashed an unholy roar. Massive saber-tooth canines pushed past his lips. Lupine angles contorted his face. Menace blazed from his glowing eyes.
“What the hell?” Celeste gasped. “Despite his medallion, he looks fully shifted and feral. Damion just turned himself into a freaking monster.”
Dove met her horrified expression. “And Bishop’s locked inside a cage with him.”
With no further warning, Damion charged. Bishop leapt over him, barely missing a swipe of the monster’s claws. The creature slammed into the iron bars and the metal groaned, bending from the power of the impact. People in the audience screamed, scrambling out of their seats.
“Bishop won’t be able to avoid him for long. We have to do something.” Dove raced for the door, Celeste close on her heels. “We’ll get the guards to help us.”
She flung open the door and skidded to a stop. Celeste slammed into her back. Outside was chaos. People fled into the hallways. “Where’s the—”
Her foot bumped into something big and solid. She looked down. On the ground was one of the guards. Eyes vacant, he stared at nothing. Blood coated his chest.
“Oh crap.” Celeste gasped behind her. Several feet away, the second guard battled a snarling vampire in black fatigues.
“That’s got to be one of Helen’s guys. They’re using the feral as a diversion.”
“Dummy, they’re after you.” Celeste smacked her shoulder. “Helen lured Marcus away for a reason.”
“Right.” Dove winced. That did make sense. She grabbed Celeste’s hand, dragging her in the opposite direction.
They raced around the corner and stopped short. Three menacing men in black fatigues headed their way, weaving through the panicked crowd.
“Quick, back here.” Dove ducked behind a cloister of tall potted plants. Celeste crouched low beside her.
The three men paused directly in front of them. Curse their luck. Dove put her hand over her mouth. Short breaths puffed between her fingers. Her heart pounded so loud it took a moment for her to register their conversation.
“This is taking too long. If we’re not at Green’s Field by midnight, the pilot will leave without us.”
The guy next to him snorted. “Come on, let’s grab the necromancer and get the hell out of here.”
They headed off in the direction of Marcus’s private box.
Well, crapola. Celeste was right. They were totally after her.
“What’s the plan?” Celeste whispered.
Dove hitched her shoulders. “Save Bishop. Save ourselves. Find Marcus.”
“It’s a little short on details.” Celeste screwed up her face.
“We’ll figure it out on the way.” Dove scanned the crowd for Helen’s men. “All clear. Come on. I know a shortcut.”
With Celeste’s hand firmly in her grasp, Dove ran to Marcus’s private elevator and took it to the ground floor. Together, they bolted down the hallway and out the arena door.
“Oh, goddess,” Celeste cried out, gasping for breath.
Ahead of them, in the cage, Bishop struggled to stand. Deep gashes marred his chest. Blood trickled down his perfect abs. His hulked-out opponent was bloody as well but still going strong. He stormed across the mat, grabbed Bishop, and heaved him into the unforgiving bars. Bones crunched. Bishop landed in a heap of bruised flesh.
“We have to get him out of there.” They raced to the cage door. Dove grasped the latch, but it didn’t budge. On the mechanism was a steel-plated lock. “You have got to be kidding me. They actually lock this thing?” she shouted, anger heating her insides.
Tears welled in Celeste’s eyes. “I could cast an entry spell, but it will take too long.”
“Come here.” Dove dragged her closer and shoved her fingers into her curls.
“Dove! What are you—” Celeste squawked, wincing when Dove pulled a strand of hair.
“Sorry, no time to be gentle.” Dove bent her stolen bobby pins and jabbed them in the keyhole. “It’s a straightforward lock. Beginner stuff. I’ve totally got this. Just be ready once I open the door.”
“Ready how?” Celeste yelled. “I make lotion and sell clothing for a living!”
“Not today,” Dove growled.
Bishop’s deep tenor voice registered above her panic. “Dove? Celeste? What are you doing? Get out of here.”
“Not without you,” Dove said through gritted teeth.
“Do not open that door,” Bishop snarled in an otherworldly tone.
Dove shivered but kept at the keyhole. “Too late.” In her nimble fingers, the tumblers aligned. She popped the lock free and heaved open the door. “Move your ass, soldier,” she shouted. “Celeste, give him some cover.”
“You’re insane,” Celeste screeched, then threw her glowing hands up.
The monster’s head swiveled in their direction. He leveled a gonna-eat-you-and-chew glare on them.
“Any time now,” Dove shouted at her friend.
“I don’t work well under pressure!” Purple light shot down the witch’s arms, traveling from shoulder to fingertip before blasting outward.
In front of the snarling monster, an explosion erupted. Covering his massive body, a lavender mushroom cloud of glitter funneled skyward. Butterflies flitted from the cloud, heading for the upper levels of the arena.
Celeste glanced her way and hitched her shoulders. “Bath bomb. It was all I could think of.”
Cheering echoed behind them. Oh, dear Lord, did the crowd linger to enjoy the show? Morons.
Bishop tumbled free of the cage, hitting the ground in front of her while the monster coughed and gagged. “Lock it in,” he snarled.
Dove winged the door closed, coughing on a puff of lavender-scented smoke. Before she could shove the latch, the door slammed back on its hinges. Iron smacked her shoulder. Pain erupted, and she fell to the floor.
Next to the broken bodyguard, she rolled to her back, peering through a purple cloud.
Framed in the doorway was a creature straight from every child’s nightmare. The kind parents fabricated to keep small children from disobeying. The feral monster angled his shoulder and ducked beneath the cage door.
Its maniacal grin sent a shiver of dread down her spine Also, she may have peed, just a bit.
Gulp. And this is how I die. Dove opened her mouth, using the one weapon she still had in her proverbial bottomless purse.
“Marcus!”
The monster reached down, heaved Bishop off the ground. Lifted him over his head.
“No. No. No,” Dove shouted. “Let him go.” Like the lingering crowd, she didn’t want to watch but couldn’t look away.
“For my brother,” the grotesque creature snarled.
“Don’t hurt my Bishop!” Celeste launched herself at the beast, hands glowing. She slapped her palms against his chest. Red energy shot down her arms and blasted into the monster. He roared and jolted like he’d been electrocuted. Bishop tumbled from his grip. His battered body hit the ground, his skull cracking on the concrete. There he lay, unmoving.
“Stupid witch.” The beast backhanded Celeste. She cried out, flying several feet, and collapsed.
“No! Celeste!” Dove shouted, but her friend didn’t respond.
The monster advanced. His soulless eyes leveled on her, hatred burning in their depths. “You.”
“Me?” she squeaked, scrambling backward.
“You interfere.”
“What?”
“No more.” The creature drew back his powerful arm. Black claws gleamed like sickles in the overhead lights.
Marcus wasn’t coming. He’d never give up his pursuit of Helen. Not when he was so close. Vengeance ruled him. Same as her father. She threw her hands up in a sad attempt to block what would be a killing blow.
The monster struck.
Shadows blurred.
Marcus materialized before her. He caught the creature’s arm in both hands. For a breathless moment, the two men were locked together, both straining. Dove gaped, frozen in place.
He came.
“Dove, run,” Marcus grunted.
“Oh, right.” Dove scrambled to her feet. Instead of bolting, she darted to her fallen friend. “Celeste?” She checked her pulse. Nice and strong. Thank goodness. A few feet away, Bishop lay in an unconscious heap, but his chest rose and fell at steady intervals. It would have to do.
Her ears registered cheering and gasps. While the lower level had cleared out, the middle and upper levels were teeming with people. More flooded in by the minute. She glanced up to find Marcus had lured the monster back into the cage. Both men grappled in the center of the ring.
Shadows licked Marcus’s body like flames. His suit coat and tie were gone, his shirt buttons torn open. Molten red glowed between the fissures of his charred flesh. Half his visage was demonic, his eye crimson.
He rammed his shoulder into the feral creature’s gut, flung him over his head, and slammed him onto his back. Shadows thickened over Damien’s hands and feet, pinning him to the mat while Marcus hammered blows to his snarling face. The creature’s head lolled, his body flailing.
With the monster subdued, Marcus stabbed his clawed fingertips deep into its chest. The wounded beast roared, bellowing in pain. Lights flickered overhead. Around the ring, shadows thickened, swirling like black clouds in a storm. Marcus sucked a deep breath, his broad shoulders heaving. Beneath him, the creature’s eyes sank into his skull, his lips shriveling. Wisps of midnight blue energy wafted up Marcus’s arms, rising from his opponent. Shadow-Steele pulled them in, feasting on the fallen man’s soul.
“No! Marcus, no!” Dove cried, but it was too late. Marcus loomed over his kill. Power crackled over his flesh. He spread his clawed fingertips, threw back his head, and roared his victory.
Instead of cheering, the crowd watched in silent horror. Lord Marcus Steele stood before them in the spotlights. On display was the dark secret he’d hidden from them all. His demon revealed.