“How is your host faring?” Lugh asked, shocking me and, judging by the look on his face, Raphael as well.
“The first time we’ve been able to talk to each other outside of an immediate crisis for perhaps a century, and that’s what you want to ask me?”
Mentally, I started. I knew, of course, that demons were long-lived, if not immortal. And I knew how badly Lugh and Raphael had gotten along. But it had never occurred to me that they hadn’t spoken to one another for so long.
“Remember, brother,” Lugh said, “unlike yourself, I’m in partnership with my host. Which means her concerns are important to me. So tell me how Andrew fares.”
Raphael shook his head. “Why should I bother? Neither you nor Morgan will believe me if I tell you he’s fine.” I’d never seen my brother’s face look petulant before. It wasn’t a flattering expression.
I felt my teeth grinding and knew that Lugh was struggling to control himself.
Don’t throw a conniption fit on my behalf, I thought at him. You know I’ve already had this conversation with him, and his assurances haven’t made me feel any better.
“Do you blame us for not fully trusting you?” Lugh asked. “Would you trust me if our positions were reversed?”
Raphael crossed his arms over his chest and slumped in his chair. I swear he looked just like a sulking teenager. “Nothing I ever do is enough for you. No matter how many risks I’ve taken for you, no matter—”
Lugh growled. “Stop whining! If the only reason you’re helping me—if you are indeed helping me—is so you can use your cooperation as emotional blackmail, then don’t bother.”
The demon Raphael flared in Andrew’s eyes, and for a moment I thought he was going to launch himself at us. Lugh tensed, apparently sharing my suspicion, but Raphael managed to keep his ass in the chair. He gripped the arms of his chair with both hands, and the knuckles turned white.
Uh, Lugh, I don’t think goading him and telling him what a shit he is is terribly productive, I said. Funny how much more rational I could be when it was Lugh arguing with Raphael rather than myself.
“And who was it who goaded him into hitting her the last time she spoke with him?” Lugh asked aloud.
If my body had been my own, I’m sure I would have flushed beet red at the reminder. I definitely wasn’t in a position to throw stones.
To my surprise, Raphael chuckled and seemed to relax. “I have mentioned before that you and Morgan make a surprisingly compatible team.” The humor faded from his face, but at least the sullenness didn’t return. “Andrew is fine. We are neither of us happy with our forced alliance, but we are making the best of the situation.”
Lugh snorted. “No one’s forcing the alliance except you.”
Raphael leaned forward in his chair. “You’re forgetting something, brother. Andrew and I have despised one another almost since the first moment we met. I have the power to destroy him, but because of you and Morgan, I’m not doing it. So yes, I am being forced into an alliance I’d very much prefer to give up.”
Then give it up, you asshole, I wanted to say, but of course my voice wasn’t under my own control at the moment.
I felt my lips curl into a smile that was more like a snarl. “I’d be happy to help you give it up, little brother,” Lugh said, and it seemed like every muscle in my body tensed.
Raphael tensed, too. “You think you can exorcize me?” His lips curled into a snarl very like his brother’s. “Are you certain which one of us would win if we fought?”
Lugh had told me once that he wasn’t sure, that he and Raphael were evenly matched. But he seemed to have forgotten that doubt now.
“Let’s find out,” Lugh said, and before the words had left his mouth, he had propelled himself off the bed and slammed into Raphael’s body.
What are you doing? I screamed in my mind. If they fought and Lugh lost, then it was all over. Dougal would gain the throne, and everything I’d gone through—that we’d gone through—would be worth diddly squat.
Lugh didn’t answer me. The chair crashed to the floor, and Raphael ended up trapped on his back, with Lugh holding him down. Andrew was a lot bigger than me, but Lugh was strong enough to compensate, especially when he was already on top. Their eyes locked, and although the effort to exorcize a demon is not a physical one, I was still aware of Lugh mustering his energy, of his aura pressing down on Raphael’s.
I desperately wanted to take back the reins of my body, but it was too late now. If I started fighting against Lugh, I could destroy his concentration, and it would all be over.
Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that Lugh would let his temper get the better of him. Yes, I’d seen flashes of that temper before. And yes, I knew how deep-seated was the animosity between him and his brother. Still, I’d thought the same sense of responsibility that I spent most of my time cursing would keep him from doing something so rash. I mentally held my breath, hoping and praying that Lugh turned out to be stronger.
Raphael’s eyes widened as his gaze locked with Lugh’s.
“Please don’t send me back,” Raphael said in a choked whisper. “You know what Dougal will do to me. Please!”
What the hell…?
Lugh’s aura continued to push against Raphael’s, but there was no resistance. Just a little bit more pressure, and Raphael would be shoved back into the Demon Realm. And my brother would be free.
Raphael lay still under Lugh’s body… under my body. There was still no resistance against the pressure of Lugh’s aura, and it finally occurred to me that there was no resistance because Raphael wasn’t fighting back.
“You’re going to make it this easy?” Lugh inquired, his voice calm despite the ugly temper that had prompted the attack.
Raphael swallowed hard. “If one of us is going back, it has to be me. Dougal would kill you, and then it would all have been for nothing.” He closed his eyes and waited. Sweat dewed his face, and his breath came short and frantic, but still he didn’t fight.
Lugh’s aura retreated and he rolled off of Raphael. Raphael just lay there, eyes closed, body tense. Lugh righted the chair he’d knocked over, then grabbed Raphael’s arm, hauled him to his feet, and deposited him in the chair. Then he sat on the edge of the bed again and just stared until Raphael opened his eyes.
The staring contest seemed to go on forever. I had no idea what was going on, what Raphael was thinking, what Lugh was thinking. But I watched through Lugh’s eyes as Raphael’s fear faded to puzzlement, then to understanding, then to fury.
“You bastard!” he spat, and it looked like he was holding himself in the chair by force of will alone. “That was some kind of test, wasn’t it? A test of my loyalty?”
“If you’re to be in my inner circle, if I’m to trust you, then I had to know for certain you’re on my side.”
To my shock, Raphael’s eyes glittered with what looked like a hint of tears. “And that’s what it took for me to prove my worth?” His voice was hoarse, and there was no missing the pain in it. I’d sometimes mistrusted Raphael’s emotions in the past, never sure he wasn’t just acting. This time, I was sure he wasn’t.
Lugh reached out to pat his brother’s shoulder. Raphael actually flinched from the touch.
“Ask yourself this, little brother,” Lugh said. “Given everything that’s at stake, would I have taken the risk of fighting you if I really thought you’d fight back? You may think me arrogant, but surely you don’t think I’m so arrogant as to assume I’d win.”
Raphael blinked and shook his head. “But then why…?”
“Because I’m not the only one who needed to be convinced.”
Well, shit. That whole show had been for me? I hadn’t been Raphael’s favorite person before, and this wouldn’t do anything to endear me to him.
Raphael thought about that for a long time without saying anything. Then he nodded. “I can’t say I appreciate your methods, but I understand. What happens now that I’ve passed your test?”
> “Did you truly tell Morgan everything you know about the Houston project?” I’m sure Raphael could hear the skepticism in Lugh’s voice as well as I could.
Raphael’s shoulders stiffened, but he answered civilly enough. “Yes, I did. There are at least thirty-five or forty facilities scattered throughout the world. I know very little about their day-to-day operations.”
“Am I really supposed to believe that when you were so intimately involved with the project at The Healing Circle?”
Raphael visibly bristled. “I thought I’d just passed your test of loyalty. Apparently, I was mistaken.”
“I believe in your loyalty,” Lugh said with a sardonic smile. “Your honesty, however, is still very much in question.”
To my surprise, Raphael laughed at that. “You’ll make a good king if we can ever get you back on the throne,” he said, and there was no longer any animosity in his voice.
“I’m glad you think so. Now, about the Houston facility…”
Raphael heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I’m telling the truth, hard though that might be for you to believe. The Healing Circle was something of a pet project for me.”
“But you were overseeing the campaign to breed a better host,” Lugh protested. “You were in charge of the whole thing!”
Raphael shook his head. “Dougal was in charge. I was merely his emissary to the Mortal Plain.”
I didn’t believe him, and I don’t think Lugh did, either. But it seemed there was little point in pushing the issue any further. Raphael wasn’t going to admit the lie. But I’m sure Lugh was as curious as I about just what his brother was hiding this time.
“All right,” Lugh said, though I’m sure Raphael heard the hint of skepticism in his voice. “I’ll accept that you don’t know what was happening in the Houston facility. But you must have known who was in charge. Surely there was some communication between the facilities?”
“Why are you so interested in Houston anyway? Nothing that happened there is important in the grand scheme of things. What’s important is figuring out how to outwit Dougal.”
But Lugh shook his head. “Figuring out what he was up to on the Mortal Plain, and what progress he made, is also important to me. We’ve allowed ourselves to interfere with humans too much already while our monarchs have kept themselves blissfully ignorant. I won’t allow that to continue during my reign. So contact some of your old friends in the breeding business and find out what was happening at the Houston facility. I want to know why Tommy Brewster is so important that a demon would take the risk of possessing him illegally under such suspicious circumstances.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something? I’m an outlaw at the moment, in as much danger from Dougal and his supporters as you are. My contacts have all dried up.”
“Like hell they have. Or are you telling me that Dougal has the means and the desire to inform every demon on the Mortal Plain that you are no longer his sidekick?”
From the look of him, Raphael was about to explode with frustration, but he managed to keep it under control. “Fine,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ll see what I can find out, and I’ll report back to you. Do you have any other orders, Your Majesty?” With that flat voice, it was hard to tell if the honorific was meant as sarcasm or as a term of respect. At least it was hard for me to tell. Lugh would know if it was traditional for his brothers to address him by title, but he wasn’t letting on one way or another.
“Only to be kind to Andrew, no matter how much you dislike him.”
Lugh stood up, and Raphael did, too. They had another one of their staring contests, and I had no idea what either one was thinking.
Um, Lugh? If you’re all done, can I have my body back? I asked. I’d been interested enough in their conversation to forget for a while just how uncomfortable it was to have Lugh in control, but it was coming back to me fast. It took a lot of willpower to keep myself from trying to break free of his control.
Lugh didn’t answer me, but he held out his hand. Raphael stared at him for another second, then shook the offered hand and nodded.
“I’m glad we had this little talk,” Raphael said, and once again I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic.
Lugh made a little snorting sound that could have been agreement, amusement, or disdain. Then he jerked Raphael forward and gave him one of those back-thumping hugs men are so fond of. Raphael stiffened for a moment, then responded in kind.
It was all very touching, but I was getting more and more antsy as every second ticked away. I wanted control back, and I wanted it now. I lost the battle against my nerves, and found myself trying to close my mental doors without any conscious will.
And then suddenly, Lugh was gone, and my body was my own once more. I could tell from the frost in Raphael’s eyes that he’d noticed the difference immediately. He and Lugh might have made some kind of peace with one another, but that didn’t mean things were all right between the two of us.
Raphael opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, then shook his head as he thought better of it. Without a word to me, he turned his back and strode out of the room. Seconds later, the front door slammed, and he was gone.
Chapter 19
After Raphael left, I fell back into bed and slept like the dead. When I woke up, the bruises had well and truly set in, and my entire body ached. I downed a handful of ibuprofen, then took the world’s longest hot shower. I felt marginally better afterward.
While I was in the process of figuring out what to do with myself all day, I checked my phone messages from the office and discovered I wouldn’t have to go looking for things to do after all. I was absurdly grateful to be able to schedule a routine exorcism for the middle of this afternoon. Maybe for just a little while, I could pretend my life was normal. At least, as normal as an exorcist’s life ever is.
I caused a bit of a stir, showing up at the courthouse with my ostentatious bruises. I told anyone who asked that I got mugged. It was a whole lot simpler that way.
The guy I’d been hired to exorcize, one Jordan Maguire, had been a legal demon host for five years. He’d apparently run into trouble when he’d split with his girlfriend, with whom he had a two-year-old daughter. They’d been arguing—loudly, according to the neighbors. When the demon stormed out of her apartment, the girlfriend had called the police and accused him of assault. She even had the bruises to show for it.
If he’d been human, there would have been a protracted inquiry into what had happened. However, demons have few rights, and the legal system tolerates no hint of impropriety. I felt kind of sorry for the demon, who swore he hadn’t hurt his girlfriend, that she’d been two-timing him with another guy and that it was the other guy who had hit her. But he’d already been convicted and sentenced, and I knew I was only sending him back to the Demon Realm, not killing him, so my guilt only went so far.
Maguire’s demon was a bitch to cast out, but I managed it.
The guilt evaporated completely when the demon was gone. About eighty percent of hosts whose demons are exorcized end up as vegetables afterward, but every once in a while, it was even worse. This was one of those times. As soon as the demon was gone, the host’s brain completely shut down, no longer capable of directing such vital bodily functions as breathing. He wasn’t just brain damaged; he was brain-dead.
He was taken from the courthouse by ambulance, and would be admitted to the hospital until his family could be notified. Then they’d take him off life support, and he’d be dead. I shuddered to think what the demon must have done to him to make him shut down so completely. And I prayed Raphael wasn’t treating my brother the same way.
Depressed as hell, I went to my office and filled out the paperwork. I hadn’t heard from Adam, and, being the impatient sort, I tried calling him. I went straight to voice mail and didn’t bother leaving a message.
I was in pain from the beating, depressed by the exorcism, worried about Dominic, and angry about being tossed off Tommy Brewster’s case. It
wasn’t a good combination of emotions, and it left me with a burning desire to do something.
What I decided to do might have been reckless, especially given the very unequivocal instructions I’d been given to keep my nose out of Brewster’s business, but I decided it was time to pay another visit to The Seven Deadlies. Shae and Tommy seemed to have become buddies—or at least accomplices. Perhaps I could “gently” persuade Shae to tell me what Tommy was up to.
The thought of giving Shae a hard time brought a smile to my face. The best part about it was that because she was an illegal demon herself, she wouldn’t be able to report me to the police if I got a little… aggressive in my questioning. Adam had to play semi-nice with her, or his well of information might dry up. I was under no such restrictions.
I showed up at the club at nine, just when its doors were opening for the night. The same bouncer I’d haggled with last time was on duty. There was no question that he recognized me—I’m not one who blends into a crowd—but he also remembered that Shae had let me in last time. When I asked him to let Shae know I wanted to talk to her, he made a sotto voce call and then told me she’d be right down. I found a corner where I’d be out of the way and waited.
I wasn’t shocked when Shae’s definition of “right down” and mine differed significantly. I refrained from doing the pointed-stare-at-my-watch thing when she finally swept out of the Employees Only doorway.
Apparently, she favored the dramatic when it came to her wardrobe. Today, she wore a neon-orange silk tunic with frog closures and a mandarin collar over skinny black pants. I don’t know how, but somehow she’d found a pair of stiletto heels that exactly matched the color of the tunic. She should have looked ridiculous, but, of course, she didn’t.
Shae looked me over unabashedly, her gaze lingering on the bruises. I clenched my teeth, waiting for her to make a smart-ass comment about them, but she just smiled at me—the predatory shark smile I’d come to expect from her.
“What a pleasant surprise,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “This makes twice in one week. Perhaps we should make you a member.”