Cameras flashed as he stepped up to a podium that sprouted microphones like runaway weeds. The voices that had been murmuring in the background before he stepped up faded to nothing, as if the crowd were holding its breath to see what he would say. He laid a sheet of paper—his prepared statement—on the podium, then took a quick look around the room. I guess he was waiting to see if anyone was going to try to stop him at the last moment, but no one did.
“Good afternoon,” he said, sweeping the assembled press before him with one last searching glance before he lowered his eyes to the paper on his podium.
“As many of you know, I am a demon. I am Philadelphia’s Director of Special Forces, and am an official citizen of the United States. However, as a demon, I remain a citizen of the Demon Realm as well.
“Just as the United States is governed by individuals with differing opinions, so is the Demon Realm. And just as the laws and attitudes of the United States change when there is a change in government, so do they change in the Demon Realm.
“The Demon Realm has recently had a change in leadership.”
The crowd wasn’t quite so silent anymore, a low, urgent murmur starting up. I realized I’d clasped my hands together in my lap tight enough that my fingers were turning white, and I forced myself to relax.
“Because of this change in leadership,” Adam continued, as if unaffected by the rumblings of the crowd, “I have been tasked with explaining to you a misapprehension that the United States—and other countries—has about demons. A misapprehension that our former leadership fostered and encouraged in an attempt to protect the demons who walk the Mortal Plain.”
The rumbling in the crowd was louder now. If they hadn’t guessed before that a bombshell was about to be dropped, they did now.
Adam looked up from his prepared speech, facing the crowd head-on as the flashes of photos being taken intensified. He swept the crowd with his gaze, then focused on the camera, like he was looking straight through it into the living rooms of all of us who were watching on TV.
“For the protection of our own people, we have allowed you to believe that exorcism kills us.”
At this point, Adam had to raise his voice to be heard over the crowd. I saw the tightness in the corners of his eyes and mouth. This press conference couldn’t be easy for him, and I wondered how much danger he was putting himself in by doing it. Dougal’s supporters might already be gunning for him, but as the conveyor of this devastating news, he was probably going to attract the attention of every fanatic—both pro-demon and anti-demon—out there.
“The truth is,” he continued, still looking straight at the camera, “that when we are exorcized, we are returned to the Demon Realm. Unharmed.”
The place erupted, everyone shouting questions at once. Adam held up his hands for silence, but it was a long time before he got anything that even vaguely resembled it. The background noise was still pretty loud when he began to speak again.
“I realize that this information comes as a shock. I also understand that many of you will be troubled by the idea that demons are not punished for their crimes in the way that you have always thought. But rest assured that there is a system of justice within the Demon Realm, and just because we are not killed by your exorcisms does not mean we are not punished.”
I had a feeling Raphael had advised Adam to add that last part. There certainly was no punishment now for demons who’d committed crimes on the Mortal Plain, but I supposed if Lugh ever got back on the throne, that would change.
The crowd noise rose in volume again, with more questions being shouted. Adam simply raised his voice to be heard over them.
“I ask you also to keep in mind that the vast majority of demons who are currently exorcized are exorcized for crimes that would fall far, far short of the death penalty if the perpetrators were human.”
The questions now were coming so fast and loud that Adam would have had to shout to be heard over them. He said something else into the microphone, but I couldn’t make out the words over the crowd noise. Then, with a handful of police discreetly guarding his exit route, he left the podium and slipped through a door off to the side.
twenty-three
THERE WERE REPORTERS CAMPED OUT IN FRONT OF Adam’s house when Brian, Andy, and I arrived later that evening. They weren’t blocking the way to the front door, but it wasn’t like we could go in unnoticed, either. The press would have photos of all the members of Lugh’s council before the night was out, and you can bet they’d dig up all the information they could about each and every one of us. Still, we’d all agreed it was a risk we had to take. We’d opened the can of worms, and now we’d have to deal with the aftermath.
After the press conference, the “special report” on the news had continued for most of the afternoon, with rampant press speculation. They speculated on why Adam was chosen as a spokesman; on whether he was acting on his own, or following orders; on whether he was some kind of activist, trying to foment unrest. Some even thought it might be a publicity stunt, though publicity for what, I don’t know.
The press had descended on any demon who would hold still long enough to be interviewed, trying everything they could to get more details. Most of the demons wisely stuck to “no comment,” but there were a few who did their best to paint Adam as a member of the demon lunatic fringe and dismiss his claims.
I don’t know what the general public believed—it’s not like the news reports were unbiased when such a sensational story was in the air. But I knew that lawmakers throughout the country were getting together to reconsider the usefulness of exorcism and the status of demons in our society. Change was a-comin’, and I doubted any of those changes would be to the demons’ advantage.
Eventually, all the members of Lugh’s council had fought their way past the gauntlet of press and arrived at Adam’s house. We were beginning to be more confident of William’s loyalties, such as they were, since acting as our messenger had obviously soured his relationship with Dougal. That didn’t mean we were willing to include him in our council meeting, but we didn’t set up a guard this time. Of course, we didn’t tell William that, so as far as he knew, Andy and Barbie were at their posts, ready to shoot him full of electricity if he tried anything.
We gathered in the living room, all of us somber and thoughtful. If Dougal called our bluff, every demon who walked the Mortal Plain would be in the worst sort of danger. Because it wasn’t a bluff. If Dougal didn’t come, we were prepared—as prepared as we could ever be—to tell the world everything. It was a terrifying prospect.
“So what happens now?” Saul asked when we were all seated and a full minute had passed without anyone else speaking.
“We need to exorcize William again,” Raphael said. “I’m sure word of what we’ve done will reach Dougal regardless, but we need to set up a meeting with Dougal when he reaches the Mortal Plain.”
“You really think he’ll come?” Adam asked.
Raphael nodded. “If we manage to get possession outlawed again, everything he’s worked for will be in vain. If his supporters are already starting to turn on him now, he’ll have a full-scale rebellion then, and he could very likely find himself imprisoned. I can’t imagine him risking it.”
“Is sending William again really the best idea?” Dominic asked. “You saw what Dougal did to him last time. I’m beginning to think it’s akin to cruel and unusual punishment to make him go back.”
“Who else would you send?” Adam asked. “We could send me or Saul, but the power differential between us and Dougal is too great. If he decided to kill the messenger, we’d die. That leaves only Raphael,” he said, and we all turned to look at Raphael. “And the only one in this room who might be able to exorcize him is Lugh.” Everyone then turned to look at me.
May I take control? Lugh asked. It’s been long enough since the last time that I doubt you’ll suffer any ill effects, and I think it’s important that I speak.
I let out what I hoped was a silent sig
h. I don’t think I’ll ever get comfortable with letting someone else drive my body, but if Lugh had lots to say, then it would get old acting as his interpreter. Besides, the rest of the council was more likely to listen to me if it was Lugh talking.
Lugh didn’t wait for my answer, because he could sense my answer without my having to articulate it. I did a little mental shiver at the feeling of being shoved into the background of my own body, but I think I was starting to get a little used to it, because I didn’t feel an immediate reflexive need to kick him out.
Lugh sat up a little straighter in the chair, and I think just by the change in body language he demonstrated to everyone in the room that I wasn’t myself anymore.
“I could exorcize Raphael if he didn’t fight me,” Lugh said, “but I’d prefer to keep him out of this.”
Raphael raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Why is that?”
“Well, for one thing, if you’re in the Demon Realm, you can’t be here pretending to be me. For another, I’m not sure your host would survive without you in residence.”
“He wouldn’t,” Raphael admitted, bracing himself as if ready for attack. “Tommy shut down several weeks ago.” He hunched his shoulders, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he actually felt guilty. I know I did, since I’d sacrificed Tommy to Raphael to free my brother. And let’s not even talk about how Andy felt.
“I tried to be kind to him,” Raphael continued, “and I tried not to break him. His sanity was already severely compromised when I took him …”
It looked like Saul was going to take this opportunity to get in one of his verbal potshots, but Lugh silenced him with a glare before he said a word. I was glad, figuring anything Saul said would hurt Andy more than Raphael.
“It’s all right, Raphael,” Lugh said. “We all knew the chances of Tommy remaining intact were negligible, no matter who took him. It was a group decision to let you take him, not yours alone.” Actually, it had been more like my decision, but no one had really disagreed with it. “But the point is, we can’t use you as our messenger. It has to be William.”
Raphael met his brother’s gaze. “He’s not going to be happy about the prospect.”
Lugh grimaced. “I know. But it can’t be helped.”
“And what shall I have him tell our dear brother?”
Lugh thought about it a moment. I really wished I could hear his thoughts like he could hear mine. “Tell him he has till midnight on Wednesday to come to the Mortal Plain and begin negotiations.”
Raphael snorted. “He’s not going to negotiate about anything!”
“Yes, he will. I’m going to propose we fight a duel and put an end to this conflict once and for all. We will need to negotiate the rules of engagement.”
No one spoke a word for what felt like about ten minutes. They all stared at Lugh with varying degrees of shock. Finally, Raphael broke the silence.
“You can’t seriously mean to do it,” he said, his voice guarded.
Lugh raised his eyebrows. “How else do you suggest I get close enough to him to kill him? Besides, he needs to think coming to the Mortal Plain will end his troubles and keep us from going even more public with the truth.”
Now that the silence was broken, everyone began speaking at once, voices getting louder and louder as each tried to shout over the others. Myself, I didn’t know what to think. Challenging Dougal to a duel sounded like a terrible risk, but it might be less risky than doing nothing.
Lugh let the others vent for a couple of minutes, then held up his hands for silence. “We’ll debate on whether I should actually meet Dougal for a duel later. First, we have to get the message to him, and he has to agree. Then we have to meet to discuss terms.”
He turned to Raphael. “Tell William that when Dougal reaches the Mortal Plain, he should contact Adam. Adam will meet him in person to confirm that it really is Dougal, and we will plan our future from there.”
Dominic squirmed in his chair. “But you said yourself Dougal could kill Adam.”
Lugh nodded. “He could. But not on the Mortal Plain. Besides, if he shows up, it will be because he’s chosen to confront me. If that’s the case, he’ll have no reason to kill Adam.”
Dominic clearly didn’t like it, but Adam reached over and squeezed his shoulder, murmuring some kind of reassurance so quietly the rest of us couldn’t hear. I don’t think it helped a whole lot.
“Does anyone else have an objection?” Lugh asked. “Because if not, I’d like to put Morgan back in control.”
I liked the sound of that. The other members of Lugh’s council looked from one to the other, waiting for someone to object, but it didn’t happen. And between one breath and the next, Lugh slipped into the background of my mind and put my body back under my control. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, then tensed for the headache and nausea. I felt mildly queasy, and my head hurt a bit, but it wasn’t too bad. The nerves over what Lugh intended to do were far worse, but I did my best to shove my worries to the side for now.
William had been less than happy to discover we were sending him back to the Demon Realm once more—“less than happy” being the understatement of the century. The poor guy had begged and pleaded, but “Lugh” had been gently firm about it. In the end, William had caved and agreed to do Lugh’s bidding—not that he actually had a choice. I think we all felt at least a little guilty about putting him through this. Well, all but Raphael, who didn’t do guilt.
Knowing that Dougal might once again try to kill the messenger, and knowing that the attempt would be sheer agony for William even though it wouldn’t succeed, we promised William we’d summon him back first thing in the morning. That would give him enough time to get the message to Dougal, but wouldn’t leave him in Dougal’s clutches for too terribly long. Of course, more than twelve hours of torture might seem kinda long to William.
I tried to assuage my guilty conscience by reminding myself that William had been the de facto leader of the illegal recruitment campaign. That he’d been put in that position despite his protests was a mitigating factor, but the fact remained that he’d sat idly by as his demon accomplices tortured human beings into inviting demons into their bodies. No matter how pitiable William was, he was a long way from being an innocent victim.
The reporters outside Adam’s house had not magically disappeared, more’s the pity. I was almost tempted to ask Adam to let me stay over, just to avoid the vultures. “Almost” being the operative word.
Those of us who weren’t spending the night—Brian, Andy, and me, along with Saul and Barbie—all left together, hoping to stave off the press by sheer numbers. We studiously ignored them as we fought our way through the gauntlet, but that didn’t seem to discourage them.
Most of them stayed camped out in front of Adam’s, but a splinter group started following us. Then the splinter group splintered again when Saul and Barbie veered off. We had about five of them on our tail when we reached my apartment building. They’d been quiet for most of the walk, but when the doorman opened the door for us and we were about to enter private property—where the vultures couldn’t follow—the questions started up again.
If they thought they were going to wear any of us down, they were sorely mistaken. Wear us out, maybe, but there was no chance in hell we were going to talk to them.
Once we were safely inside my apartment, Andy announced his plan to sleep for the next week and a half and disappeared into the guest room. I was tired, but not sleepy, if you know what I mean. I guess Brian felt the same way, because instead of heading for the bedroom, he said, “Have you got anything to drink around here?”
I blinked at him. “You’ve been living here almost a week. You know what’s in the fridge as well as I do.”
He rolled his head back and forth, his neck making little popping noises in protest. “I was hoping for something stronger than what was in the fridge. Don’t you have an emergency supply of booze somewhere?”
I’m not much of a drinker. Not for any ph
ilosophical reasons, but just because I hate the taste of alcohol. But every once in a while, I can be persuaded to force it down for the greater good of humanity. (When I feel bad enough to want a drink, it isn’t safe to be near me.)
Today had been enough of a strain that I had to agree with Brian that a drink was just what the doctor ordered. In the back of the cabinet over the refrigerator—the one that I could barely reach into despite my greater-than-average height—was a single, lonely bottle of rum, about three-quarters full. I pulled it down and set it on the kitchen counter. My fingers left an outline in the dust that coated the bottle. Guess it had been a while since I’d dragged it down.
I got a Coke out of the fridge, because I’d have to be desperate indeed to drink straight rum. Brian merely threw some ice cubes in a glass and poured himself a healthy shot. He took a tentative sip, then made a face.
“I’m not a connoisseur of rum,” he said, his nose wrinkled, “but I’m guessing this isn’t exactly the good stuff.”
I shrugged. “I bought the cheapest I could find. The good stuff and the bad stuff both taste like shit to me, so why waste the money? Besides, unless I missed my guess, you’re drinking it for medicinal purposes, not for pleasure, so who cares how it tastes?”
I took a sip of my own drink and made a face I suspected was very similar to Brian’s. But I’d have made the same face if it had been the most expensive rum on the face of the earth. Brian gave a resigned sigh, then tossed back the rest of the contents of his glass, the ice cubes audibly clinking against his teeth. He shuddered, then put the glass down.
“Vile stuff,” he said, and I had to agree with him. The look on his face suggested he was thinking of pouring another shot, but he resisted the urge.
I took another swallow of my own drink. The first taste had numbed my tongue a bit, so the second wasn’t quite as repulsive.