Possess Me at Midnight (Doomsday Brethren 4)

The evil heat Mathias put off loomed closer suddenly, and the other wizard gibed, “Let’s meet the real Isdernus Rykard.”

What the bloody devil did that mean?

The cloud clung to him, hovering over his face. Ice continued to gasp for breath as dizziness spiked in his head. Panic for air set in. Surely at any moment he would pass out, die right in a heap at Mathias’s feet, as the cloud paralyzed him from lifting a damn finger.

But a moment later, it passed through him. He drew in a desperate gasp of air and fell to his knees as the black mass drifted up the wall, clung harmlessly to the ceiling.

Mathias reared back. “Impossible!”

He reached a hand toward the cloud and hurled it at Ice again. Once more, it blanketed him, cutting off his air, his light, his hope. Then it left him, floating aimlessly in the enclosed force field. Why hadn’t it clung to him as it had Bram? Why hadn’t it damn near killed him?

“What does it mean?” he heard Sabelle ask.

Ice risked a glance at her. She looked pale, worried, as she turned to her brother, frantic for an answer.

“I don’t know,” Bram murmured. “It latched on to me viciously and didn’t let go. Almost instantly, I felt … anger, arrogance. My worst thoughts all right in my head. Then I don’t remember a bloody thing until the dark healer came to me.”

“Is—is Mathias doing the spell incorrectly?”

Bram scoffed. “I think he’s both familiar and ruthless with it.”

“What the bloody—” Mathias fisted his hands, his blue eyes blasting rage. Fury hollowed his cheeks. Sweat slicked his chest and corded abs. “That is impossible!”

Ice stepped away from the wall, completely unharmed, untouched by the thunderous cloud. And amazed. He staggered, weakened and exhausted, but he was on his feet. He yearned to curl up against Sabelle and sleep for a year. But he’d lived through something he never expected to. Inside, he glowed with triumph.

“Apparently not,” Ice taunted.

“No one,” Mathias spat. “No one is incorruptible. Everyone has at least one flaw that makes them susceptible to the dark side. Take it!”

The furious wizard hurled the black cloud at Ice again. As before, moments of breathlessness, heavy chest, anger, and frustration. Then … surprising freedom.

Ice cocked his head and grinned. Finally, he understood. “I felt pure evil pass through me, looking to partner with its own kind. It found nothing useful, so it left.”

“It must have latched on to you. Inside you. Somewhere. Surely, you have some—some flaw of character that could make you embrace the dark. Greed, lust, avarice, envy. Something.”

The black cloud hovered in the corner … then started listing its way back to Mathias, as if drawn there. As if the mass sought evil, wanted a harbor in someone who hated or envied or felt too much pride or lust.

In Ice, the mass had found nothing it sought. It had scurried from the caring and love that flowed in his veins. From the light inside him.

And now Ice understood exactly how to fight Mathias.

With a snap of his wrist he conjured a sword. One thing Marrok had taught him well was to use a human blade. In a few short months, he’d perfected the art of slicing an enemy any way he wished, whether to defend, or in this case, to kill. Avenging Gailene was in his grasp, and for her Mathias must die now, by his hand.

At the sight of the heavy broadsword, Mathias scoffed. “A human’s weapon for a wizard’s fight. You are mad. You’ll get nowhere near me with that, you know.”

It would be a challenge, but certainty fueled him, overriding exhaustion. He would succeed. For Gailene. For Sabelle. For the past and future.

Using the edge of the blade, he cut his own thigh. Sabelle gasped, and he did his best to put her concern from his mind. Bram stood behind her, offering comfort.

Now, he had to focus all his energy on delivering his blow to Mathias and ending two hundred years of agony.

The blood welled from the stinging wound on his thigh, and Ice wiped the flat of the blade across one side, then the other, coating the sword with the essence that beat from his heart. For a moment, he gripped the blade, bowed his head over it, and wrapped it in an enchantment that spread hope and joy. Love.

When Ice righted himself, Mathias’s eyes widened, and he backed away, wary. His nostrils flared, and his face reddened.

“You will not touch me with that blade.”

Ice didn’t bother refuting him. He just took a step closer, wand outstretched with another paralysis hex ready.

The pungent stench of fear wafted across the challenge ring, and Ice smiled, the gesture every bit as warm as his name. Mathias shook his head, stepped back through the cracking sheet of frozen water and slushy remnants of snow.

“No!” The evil wizard screamed, the raw sound reverberating through the force field. Then he thrust a hand forward, aimed toward a listing sheet of ice standing between them. Twisting his wrist, Mathias hurled the shards directly at Ice.

As he melted the frozen projectiles, Ice watched fury overtake Mathias. He laughed. Adrenaline charged Ice’s system as he raised the sword. No doubt, Mathias would try to thwart him using some underhanded method, but he would not succeed.

Ice charged the other wizard, blood-wet sword at the ready. His nemesis retreated a step, then another. It seemed that Mathias feared the human weapon. Because he didn’t know how to wield it? Possible. He’d never seen Mathias fight human. Perhaps he simply feared the unknown … and what Ice would do with it. The blood had to frighten him as well. Blood magic, though not practiced widely for centuries, was notoriously unpredictable and strong.

Mathias continued to back up—until he hit the force field. A few steps more, maybe two or three, and victory would belong to Ice.

“Cease!” Blackbourne called. “The break period has begun.”

Bloody fucking hell. Everything inside Ice itched to lunge forward, finish off Mathias for good. Bury his ghosts. If he did, he would violate the rules of the challenge and forfeit all right to the Council seat … and any chance he had of spending his future with Sabelle.

With great force of will, Ice lowered the sword.

Mathias’s gloating sneer nearly made him rethink his position. Cheeky bastard would use the next fifteen minutes to his advantage, devise some new counterattack. Though Ice’s limbs felt heavy, he’d rather keep fighting. A thinking Mathias was a dangerous one.

“You heard the esteemed gentleman,” Mathias said, backing away. “Put the sword down. Unless you wish to forfeit.”

And lose his chance for a proper revenge for Gailene, watch Sabelle slip through his fingers, because Mathias had goaded him into something stupid? No.

With a curse, he turned to find Bram standing nearby and handed the sword to the Doomsday Brethren’s leader. “I don’t trust him anywhere near this sword.”

Bram grimaced at the blood-soaked weapon but grabbed it. “Nor do I.”

But when Ice looked up, Mathias had fled, all but running inside the house.

Nodding, he made his way toward the house as well and the room prepared within for him to rest. Now that the imminent moment had passed, the adrenaline seeped from his system. Heavy limbs became a burden as he dragged one foot in front of the other to reach his appointed room. Mathias had a witch stashed upstairs, at the ready to provide a fresh dose of magical energy. While Ice . . .

He avoided Sabelle’s concerned stare. The Council might not accept him if he and Sabelle looked too cozy. Despite recent discussions with Sabelle’s brother, Ice knew it was unlikely he and Bram would ever be close again. He understood, however, why the elders might be wary.

But Ice was also keenly aware of a need to keep Mathias from looking again at Sabelle, plotting to use her as a weapon against him. He only prayed that ignoring her would at least confuse Mathias long enough for Ice to kill him and win the challenge.

He must keep Mathias off the Council at all costs. He must avenge Gailene today.

Inside the house, the artificial heat melted the December chill that had settled in his bones. Instead of relieving him, it smothered him like a blanket over his face.

Ice trudged upstairs, shutting the door behind him. He flopped across the bed, wishing like hell that he could hold Sabelle. Yes, the energy would be nice—blast and damn, it may ensure his victory—but he didn’t like the thought of Mathias and his beloved within a hundred kilometers of each other, much less on the same grounds. Nor could he sacrifice the facade of Sabelle’s indifference for his own comfort.

He’d simply have to dig deep, find the energy to carry on—without Sabelle’s sweet touch.

No sooner did he complete the thought than someone tapped lightly on his door. It wasn’t merely that no one else here would knock so delicately. Ice felt Sabelle on the other side of the portal, worrying.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said through the door because he knew if he answered it, he would touch her, take her.

“Are you planning to leave me in the hall?”

“I won’t risk calling Mathias’s attention to you.”

She sighed. “Dear, sweet man, he knows you’ve Called to me. My feelings, in his eyes, are irrelevant. Besides, do you really believe he would risk attacking me in a Council elder’s home?”

Normally, no. None would dare such a feat. With Mathias, Ice feared anything was possible.

“Let me in,” she murmured against the wood.

The sound ripped at his guts. “Sabelle . . .”

“The clock is ticking down. Let me help you.”

His princess. Always wanting to help others, always selfless. Though he hated the fact she’d lain with Lucan, he understood she was not the sort of witch to sit idle and watch another’s pain without lending a hand.

“I’m all right.”

She hesitated. “Let me touch you.”

Her voice cracked, squeaked in places. He heard her tears in those few short words. They wrenched his heart.

“I’ve gone mad with worry, watching you fight Mathias,” she continued. “The black cloud frightened me nearly to death. Mathias looks so sure of himself, and I know memories of Gailene must be haunting you. Please let me in. Let me touch you.”

Damn, the woman knew him far too well.

With a sigh, he rose and approached the door, gripped the knob. “Sabelle, if I let you in, you will not leave untouched.”

“I hadn’t planned to.”

With a scowl, Ice ripped open the door. Sabelle stood there in simple clothing, her face a rich tapestry of emotion: concern, love, fear, joy. Everything he felt for her—had felt from the moment he set eyes upon her—rushed through him all over again. She scraped away all his defenses, the bluster and snarling he used to keep the rest of the world at bay. Only she saw the man beneath, the one still hurting from his sister’s murder. The one who loved Sabelle more than his own life.

“Have a care! Mathias could see you—”

“He’s busy shagging that brainless witch Rhea.”

And he would return to the challenge ring shortly with much energy. Ice could all but hear Sabelle’s unspoken words. Yes, he needed energy, but not if it risked Sabelle’s safety.

“Yell at me,” he demanded.

She scoffed, flipped long golden tresses over her delicate shoulder, and breezed past him, into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. “Little good that will do you, as you’re well aware. You promised to touch me. I’m waiting.”

Ice closed his eyes and all he could see in his memories were the times he’d possessed Sabelle. The first sweet moments of her trembling welcome in MacKinnett’s guest house, deep in the midst of danger. Their shared joy upon his release from the hell of Mathias’s dungeon. The poignant moments in his bed upon the eve of what was to have been her mating to Lucan. Each time, he wanted her more than the time before. And now, with exhaustion blunting his battle instincts, with fear blurring his strategy, with his anxiety for the future clouding his mind, he needed her more than ever.

Except he was sure Mathias would only hone in on her more if Ice revealed the depth of his devotion. For now, Mathias might be convinced Ice’s Call to Sabelle had been motivated by ambition, not love. He’d prefer to keep it that way.

Ice drew in a shaky breath. “Please don’t tempt me.”

“But I love to.” She sauntered closer, cupping his cheek in her palm. Even that light contact was electric, filling him with need and yearning. “I love you.”

“Our feelings mean nothing until Mathias is vanquished and this challenge is won.”

“And you will not win this challenge without energy, which must come from me.”

Damn it, she was right.

“Besides, I disagree. Our feelings mean everything.” Sa-belle shook her head, golden strands catching the afternoon rays and shining as if they were pure sunlight themselves. Then she grabbed his hands. “As I become a part of you, you become a part of me.”