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“You told me that werewolves worship Romulus and Remus. Why would they let him do this?”

Isaac was visibly shaking now, forcing himself to take shallow breaths as Deacon came up to him.

“I don’t know,” Eric said out loud.

His feet were practically glued to the ground. He wanted to be one of the alphas who went on the offence, who prevented Deacon from killing one of his good friends, but not at the cost of killing Ivan. He could not fight while he was in this body.

Isaac lunged with the knife, but Deacon easily dodged it, grabbed  Isaac’s hand, and then promptly broke it.

Isaac screamed as he dropped the knife, and Deacon’s hand shot out and gripped him by the neck, lifting him into the air.

“You must fight this! You must!”

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Before Eric could tell him once more that he could not, before he

could even turn his back and race back to the pack as he’d said he  would, Ivan pulled himself out of his body, his spirit flying toward  Deacon.

“No!” Eric shrieked as he watched the incorporeal form of his  lover vanish inside of Deacon’s body.

Deacon promptly dropped Isaac, and the human landed on his  back in the sand, rocks, and patched grass.

Deacon reared up and roared, every vein in his body popping out,  his eyes nearly bursting from their sockets, and his muscles clenched  and tight.

He reminded Eric of the stiff form of a man being electrocuted.

Then he fell to his hands and knees. His head was bent down as he

gasped for air, the glow of his body vanished, and trails of steam rose  up out of his back.

Eric rushed forward and grabbed hold of Isaac’s arms, pulling the  man to safety since the hunter was too stunned by the turn of events to  do anything other than stare. The idiot.

Deacon looked up at them as they retreated. James and the others  came forward to inspect the damage done to Deacon’s body.

His eyes were most certainly no longer red. Did that mean that  Romulus and Remus had left Deacon’s body? Eric was more  concerned with where Ivan had gone.

“What have you—?”

As though that had been signal the spirits waited for, every  glowing spectre rose out from the water and latched themselves onto  Deacon’s body. He saw them and made the attempt to swipe them  away from him like flies.

But they were not flies, and they would not be put off. They  grabbed at his arms and legs, putting their lips onto him the same way  they had done to Ivan when he was beneath the water. Several of  them attempted to enter his body, others being pushed out where the  few other spirits succeeded.

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The body could only contain so many spirits at once, Eric had

learned.

One of the spirits to be pushed out was Ivan. When he landed on the ground, he appeared pale, even for a ghost, his body trembling with the effort of what he’d just done

“Ivan!” Eric ran to him and pulled him up and into his arms. He immediately relaxed his consciousness and allowed Ivan to reenter his body.

He felt the way Ivan glowed with comfort and warmth now that the spirit was back where it belonged. It felt good.

“What did you do to him?”
 
Eric asked.

He felt Ivan’s giddy pleasure ripple through their shared body as he replied.
 
“I convinced the spirits possessing him that he was not what he seemed. They already did not like him for not being a medium and for calling them as rudely as he did.”

“What?”
 
Eric asked.

“They were only in his body because of the spell. They did not  much wish to be there either. I entered the body and others followed.  It was too much, and now the spirits are being pushed out.”

“What’s happening to him?” Eli asked, having not been privy to  the conversation Eric had just had with Ivan.

He grinned at his brother and told him and the rest of the pack  what Ivan had just said.

The ancient ghosts of Romulus and Remus had not wished to  enter into Deacon’s body, but they had no choice because of the spell.  Ivan had helped to free them, and now Deacon was under attack by  the many other ghosts still crawling around the pond.

They were all vying for the top spot. Ownership of the body  before it died.

“Jesus,” James muttered as they all watched Deacon flail around  in the water. His eyes were bright with panic as he was pulled to and  fro by the many glowing spirits. It was like watching a group of  hungry wild animals attacking and devouring a piece of meat tossed

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to them.

Eric wondered which of them had been Romulus and Remus. Or

perhaps they were too important to be seen, or had already left. Some  of the spirits were certainly older-looking, judging by their clothing  rather than their faces, but none were in any Roman attire that Eric  could see.

Not that he had a good idea of what Roman clothing actually

looked like.

“Help me!” Deacon shrieked, falling backward into the water,  kicking and punching at himself when the spirits entered him, trying  to claw them out, and at the ones still fighting to get inside of him.

Somehow, in all that mess, Deacon’s eyes still found Eric’s, but  he got the feeling that his next cry was directed at Ivan. “Get them off  me! Help me!”

He felt the way Ivan curled up and looked away on the inside. If  he’d been able to, he would’ve put his arms around the other man,  knowing what he was thinking of as Deacon was attacked.

Ivan was thinking of the many times he’d been in such a position,  fighting for his life against the ghosts that wanted possession of his  body. Only Ivan had never had to fight off so many of them at one  time.

Eric couldn’t believe he’d almost allowed himself to leave Ivan by

himself.

Deacon had opened the door when he tried to force two spirits who were very nearly gods inside of his body. Now he couldn’t get them out or make them stop without the powers of a medium.

He was completely on his own.

This time there was no discussion amongst the pack over whether or not they should help him. Everyone stood where they were, watching in sick fascination as Deacon was overpowered.

Many spirits gave up the fight, too weak to continue, and they ghosted away, shoulders slumped in defeat. Others fought on, battling over Deacon’s body until the water he kicked up around him turned

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red with his blood from where he punched and scratched himself too

hard.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Deacon reared up, his back arching out of the water, and he released the loudest scream Eric had ever heard. He had to cover his ears against it. It could have shattered glass.

Then he fell back in the water, limp as the dead.

The entire pack of alphas seemed to sigh in relief that it was over.  Everything seemed so much quieter after that, and it was eery. James waded his way into the now-still water to collect the body.

Then Deacon bolted upright, scaring the living shit out of every single man waiting on the sidelines.

James looked like the only alpha who hadn’t jumped back. No, he crouched down to get a better look at the man who was comfortably sitting in the water, leaning on his hands and looking up at James curiously.

When he spoke, an old, heavy accent that Eric couldn’t place left his mouth.

It was something akin to ye old English, Scottish, and something else Eric couldn’t recognize.

“Ach, now who in the whoring hell might
 
you
 
be lookin’ at, lad?”

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Chapter Eleven

Ivan was happy to be back in his own body again. Though he trusted Eric, and for the sake of the other alphas and Eric’s brother he would still be willing to share on occasion, he still couldn’t get over the strange unnatural feeling that came with giving up control of his limbs, of letting someone else pilot his body.

It made him shiver when Eric finally stepped out and gave control back to Ivan, though not until they’d made it back to the cottages, and not until Eli was able to share a few tearful moments with his brother.

Though he was inside of his body and had no choice in the matter,  Ivan felt incredibly like an intruder as he watched Eric and Eli hug each other, both of them with tears in their eyes.

There was no way Ivan could keep himself from giving control of his body to Eric at least once in a while after witnessing such an event. It would seem too cruel of him.

Then the brothers and the rest of the alphas finally said their good-byes to their friend, and Eric stepped aside and gave Ivan control once

more.

“I’ll meet you in our room later tonight,” Eric had said as he  ghosted through the now-forlorn-looking crowd of alphas.

It was Ivan’s turn to be smothered with hugs from his younger  brother, who had been forced to stay behind when Ivan’s soul had  been snatched away by Opal.

Vlad’s fangs were out and quite long as he snarled over the  revenge he wanted but could never have. “That fucking bitch is lucky  Deacon killed her or else I would’ve found her and stripped the skin  from her fucking bones!”

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Ivan was taken aback by the language, and Vlad blushed once he realized what he’d said. Then they both laughed.

Questions about Opal’s possible motives followed, and Ivan then had to explain what he knew of the situation, which was not much.

He told them that Opal had forced Ivan to bite on her wrist, which only meant one thing. She clearly wished to become a vampire. All else, he could not say.

Vlad had snorted at the ridiculous notion that one could become a

vampire from a single bite. Ivan agreed with his disdain

wholeheartedly.

However it was that the two were connected—Deacon had

shouted something about her being the sister of his mate—the pack  seemed to have other things on their minds. Like what to do with the  new arrival, Blasius.

That was how the man introduced himself, though he could give no surname, nor clan membership, nothing. He was the spirit who had won the right to Deacon’s body, and though he seemed friendly enough for a loud, foreign, dead warrior, the pack was still wary of him.

Tristan especially. The poor omega had jumped when he first caught sight of Blasius and had to be taken into the arms of his mate  Isaac and explained to gently that the person he saw was not the person he thought him to be.

Tristan still could not make himself calm enough to stay for very long in the same vicinity as Blasius, but the warrior didn’t seem to mind. He was more interested in examining every television and radio he saw, once even attempting to break one open to free the poor bespelled souls within.

He was clearly not from this era.

Ivan had requested permission from James to return to his cabin.  Though he’d done little else but rest these last few days, he felt increasingly tired after his ordeal.

James gave him the go ahead to leave for his cabin, and the bed in

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his bedchamber, and Eric, who would be waiting for him.

The strange thing Ivan did not quite understand was the respectful  way in which the pack alphas all seemed to part for him as he passed,  nodding to him as he did.

What had changed? Perhaps because they now had proof that Ivan  was a medium and not the crazed individual they had thought him to  be? Because he had brought them a few precious moments with their  fallen brother?

Regardless of what it had been, Ivan was grateful he was no longer being looked upon with suspicion and pity.

“We’ll talk tomorrow night,” Vlad had said to him after one last hug.

“Tell Eric…I’m glad we got to see each other,” Eli said, putting his hand on Ivan’s shoulder just as he reached the door.

Ivan took pity on the poor man and smiled at him. “You will see him many more times as well. I promise.”

Eli’s eyes shone brightly with moisture, and Ivan finally exited the cabin they had all gathered in before the poor alpha would unman himself.

He walked straight back to his own cabin, the cool night air soothing on his skin after his body had spent so much time out in the sun—he never wanted to do that again! He grinned at the sight of  Eric, sitting on top of the roof, gloriously naked, and watching the stars shining particularly bright against the black sky.

“What are you doing?” he asked, standing below him.

Eric looked down at him and returned the smile. “Waiting for you.”

Eric allowed himself to ghost through the roof, and now he was inside the house.