Raphael sighed, and his voice gentled. “I’m not really threatening to hurt Andrew,” he said. “I’m just trying to discourage you from hurting me. Surely you can understand that?”
Understand? Maybe. Forgive? No way in hell! “Just don’t try giving me orders,” I said, but I sounded defeated. “If I want to investigate the Brewster case, it’s my business, not yours.”
“I’m just suggesting you be reasonable. Think it through! Even if you ever figure out exactly what happened, as far as the law is concerned, Brewster is a legal demon host. Your chances of finding enough concrete evidence to prove he’s not are slim to none.”
There’s nothing like being told I can’t do something to make me bound and determined to do it. “I’ll find a way,” I said, and I meant it.
Raphael dismissed my assertion with a wave of his hand. “No, you won’t. But we’ve argued enough for one day, don’t you think?”
“Fine.” I stood up and managed about three steps toward the door before Raphael stopped me in my tracks.
“There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
My instincts were to get the hell out of there now that I’d gotten as much as I could out of him, but I fought those instincts. I still wasn’t convinced whose side Raphael was on, but I couldn’t deny he was an important player in this deadly war of succession. And if he was actually willing to divulge information for once, it would behoove me to listen.
I forced myself to return to my seat. “I’m all ears,” I said, my voice brittle as broken glass.
“I wish you would let Lugh surface so I could talk to my brother directly,” Raphael said, and I snorted out a laugh.
“Not gonna happen.” Lugh was peeved enough at me to send a spike of pain through my eye, but that didn’t exactly endear him to me.
“So I gathered.” Raphael’s expression changed, the forced blankness disappearing as a mischievous grin took over his face. “I suppose there are some advantages in being able to talk to him without him being able to talk back.”
I felt my lips starting to curve into an answering grin, but stopped myself cold. I was not going to allow Raphael to disarm me. “So what is it you’re so desperate to talk to him about?”
Raphael sat back in the couch, the humor fading from his face. “I’m wondering if he’s formed anything that even vaguely resembles a plan.”
“If he has, I don’t think he’d tell you about it.”
Raphael ignored my comment. “Dougal will keep sending his forces after you. He might not know that you’re still hosting Lugh, but as far as he knows, you know the identity of Lugh’s current host.”
“Thanks to you,” I pointed out. Of course, I had to admit to myself that when Raphael had been playing inside man in Dougal’s conspiracy, he’d had no choice but to tell Dougal the name of the host into which he’d summoned Lugh. But just because I had to admit it to myself didn’t mean I had to admit it to Raphael.
His only acknowledgment of my jab was a brief dirty look. “Maybe even without having me on the inside, we’ll be able to protect Lugh. Adam is a powerful ally, and I’ll help as much as you’ll let me. But hiding out on the Mortal Plain is only a temporary solution. Eventually, you’re going to die.”
I must have made some kind of outraged face, because Raphael patted the air soothingly.
“I mean of old age, not necessarily by violence. Lugh can help you lead a longer-than-normal life with greater health than someone who’s not hosting a demon, but eventually the human body wears out. One of the many traits Dougal and I were trying to improve upon in our program.”
“Don’t even—”
“Forget I said that last part,” he interrupted. “What I’m trying to tell you is that demons are essentially immortal beings. The span of a single human life—even one that has been artificially extended by a demon—is a relatively short time to us. If Dougal decides he’s losing too many people and wasting too much energy trying to destroy Lugh right now, all he has to do is wait until you die and Lugh is forced to return to the Demon Realm.
“You… That is, Lugh, must come up with some kind of long-term plan. If that plan doesn’t involve me, I’ll understand.”
Maybe he’d expected me to rush in with reassurances, because when I didn’t say anything, his lips pressed tightly together, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Is that it?” I asked. “Can I go now?”
He stared down at his hands and nodded briskly. “Yeah, that’s it,” he said in his flattest voice.
I supposed I’d hurt his feelings, and a small part of me felt kind of bad about that, because I couldn’t help but see the occasional echo of myself in him. But I had little trouble hardening my heart. “If you want any sympathy from me, you need to stop holding my brother hostage.”
He raised his eyes to mine, and the expression in them chilled me. “Has it ever occurred to you that I trust you as little as you trust me?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Raphael’s capable of one of the most malevolent stares I’ve ever seen, and he was giving it to me right now. “It means you’re a vindictive, reactionary bitch, and if I weren’t inhabiting Andrew, you might do any number of unpleasant things to me—like send me back to the Demon Realm to face the brother I betrayed. That is not a reunion I anticipate with any great joy.”
I almost laughed. “So what you’re trying to tell me is that it’s my fault you’re holding Andy hostage? What a crock of shit!” His face turned a shade of red that should have warned me to silence. Naturally, I ignored the warning. “I’m not powerful enough to exorcize you, and I’m not about to murder your host just to get revenge on you. You’re the vindictive one. You’re holding Andy just to hurt me. And maybe hurt him, too.”
The fire flared in his eyes once more. I got the impression he briefly tried to control himself, but that effort didn’t last long. “Here’s what I’d do if I wanted to hurt you,” he snarled.
He moved so fast I didn’t have a chance in hell of protecting myself. He leapt out of his seat and crossed the distance between us in a heartbeat, taking my arm in a bruising grip to hold me still while his fist connected with my chin. My head snapped back with the force of the blow, my jaws clicking together so hard I think I cracked a tooth.
I’d have fallen down if he weren’t holding me up by one arm. I didn’t quite black out, but the room spun dizzily around me, and nausea roiled in my gut. I saw his fist coming at me again, but there was no escaping it. It occurred to me that it sure would be nice if I could voluntarily let Lugh surface just about now.
The second punch never connected, and through my blurry vision, I saw Raphael standing with bowed head, his fist clenched as his ribs heaved. I sure had a way of bringing out the worst in people.
He was still holding me up by my arm, though the floor was looking mighty inviting. I was pretty sure he hadn’t broken my jaw, but the nausea and blurry vision suggested I had a concussion. Still, enraged as he might have been, he’d pulled that punch, or I’d have been dead.
We stood like that for what felt like forever, my head throbbing in time to the beat of my heart as Raphael gathered the shreds of his temper together. By the time he managed that, I’d recovered enough that my legs could hold me, though I had a severe case of double vision.
Raphael’s voice when he spoke was soft and contrite. “It would hurt less in the long run if I went ahead and knocked you out so Lugh can fix you.”
The side effects of the concussion couldn’t stop the bark of laughter that escaped me. “Thanks for the kind offer,” I lisped, and realized for the first time that I’d bitten the side of my cheek and my mouth was full of blood. I spat the blood on Raphael’s carpet, but my vision was too blurry to make out the expression on his face to see how much that pissed him off. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Can you get home all right?” he asked. I wondered if he thought I’d missed the fact that, contrite though he might sound, he hadn’t bo
thered to apologize. “You can lie down on my couch if you want. I’ll go into another room and stay there until you’re well enough to leave.”
The idea of lying down held a great deal of appeal. But then, so did the idea of getting the hell out of there. I chose the latter.
“It’s been a pleasure,” I said as I made my way carefully to the door. Raphael didn’t answer, and that was just as well.
Chapter 7
I managed to get home without passing out on the sidewalk, but it was a close call. No doubt about it, I had a concussion. The doorman asked if I was all right as he opened the door for me. I lied and said yes.
The elevator ride almost made me toss my cookies, but I made it into my apartment and onto my bed without embarrassing myself. The bed felt like a combination bucking bronco and tilt-a-whirl, but I closed my eyes anyway and tried to let myself relax down into sleep. Eventually, it worked.
I half-expected Lugh to patch me up without bothering to talk to me. After all, I was pissed off at him for whatever he might have said to Brian, and he had a history of avoiding me when I was pissed at him. He’s nothing if not smart. This time, however, avoidance wasn’t his strategy.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a room I’d never seen before—a long, cavernous hall, its ceiling supported by massive stone pillars, its windows and doorways topped with Gothic arches. At the head of the room sat a dais, and on that dais loomed what could only be called a throne. In keeping with the scale of the hall, the throne was huge, its legs and back carved from some kind of dark wood, maybe mahogany. The seat, which didn’t exactly look comfy, was a thinly padded red and gold tapestry, and a swath of red velvet—a rug, apparently—surrounded the throne like a halo.
The only light in the room came from a series of candle-bearing iron chandeliers, which left most of the arches and corners in impenetrable darkness. The hair on the back of my neck prickled, and I shivered.
“Lugh?” I called out, my voice echoing against the stone as I turned in a circle, looking for him. When I came around full circle, the throne was no longer empty.
I had never seen him looking remotely like this before. He was dressed all in wine-dark red with accents of gleaming gold—a matching set of coat, waistcoat, and breeches adorned with buttons even where buttons weren’t needed. White lace frothed from the cuffs of his coat and foamed beneath his chin. White stockings clung to shapely calves and disappeared into red velvet shoes with gold buckles. His hair was unbound, held back from his face only by a simple gold band that I gathered was a crown.
The face beneath the crown was the same familiar face—Lugh, my demon and, maybe, my friend. But for the first time ever, I truly felt as though I was facing the demon king. My mouth went dry, my throat tightened, and I couldn’t think of a thing to say. How could I stand in a king’s hall and scold said king for speaking out of turn?
Lugh crossed those elegant legs of his at the knee and leaned back into the throne as if it were a cushy recliner rather than hard, carved wood. I wouldn’t call the expression on his face a smile, but there was definitely a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Have I finally found a way to overawe you, then?” he asked.
I tried a snort, but the sound was feeble and unconvincing. “If I’d known this was a costume party, I’d have dressed up,” I said, determined not to let him make me feel uncomfortable.
He didn’t say anything, merely raised his eyebrows. With a sigh of resignation, I looked down at myself and found that I was dressed in a voluminous green brocade gown. My breasts were pushed up and in by what I could only assume was a corset, and were covered—barely—by a triangular, lace-covered panel that appeared to be pinned to the gown’s bodice. If I breathed too deeply, my nipples would probably make a surprise appearance. I was pretty sure I hadn’t been wearing this getup when the dream had started, but since I hadn’t thought to look at myself, I couldn’t be sure.
“It’s so me,” I muttered dryly as another shiver chilled my spine.
“It would be a sensual delight to strip you out of it,” Lugh said. “A tease in the truest sense of the word. All those little pins holding the stomacher in place, then all the undergarments with their tapes and laces…”
“You sound like you’ve stripped women out of outfits like this before.”
Again, he didn’t answer, but his silence was answer enough. He was a long-lived, possibly immortal, being, and I knew he’d walked the Mortal Plain before. Perhaps what I was wearing had been the height of women’s fashion when he’d last been here.
Since he’d brought up the subject of sex himself—albeit indirectly—I went on the offensive rather than questioning him about this sudden change in milieu.
“What did you say to Brian when you called him in the middle of the night?”
He sighed and gave me a disappointed look. “Is that what you consider the most important thing for us to talk about?”
Not really. It was just my attempt to wrest control of this dream from Lugh, and that was important to me. “What did you say to him?”
Lugh shook his regal head, making me feel childish even as he answered my question. “I told him you would respond well to a little dominance.” He held up a hand to stave off my protest. “From him. Another lover might not have survived the attempt.”
I was pretty sure he was laughing at me, even though he wasn’t smiling. I wished like hell I could deny what he was saying, but since neither one of us would believe it, I refrained.
“Why?” I asked, my voice little more than a scratchy whisper. Bad enough to have Lugh invading my mind and learning each and every one of my most hidden thoughts and desires. But to have him share them with someone else, even Brian…
Lugh cocked his head and regarded me closely. I knew he was trying to figure out what he could get away with telling me, and though I would have liked to demand he tell me everything, I wasn’t sure I dared.
“We both know you have trust issues,” he finally said.
“No kidding?” He gave me a quelling look, and I shut up.
“But you desperately long for the ability to trust someone even as you keep sabotaging your own attempts at it.”
“Now wait just a minute—”
Not surprisingly, he talked right over me. “The part of you that isn’t thinking all the time trusts Brian. That’s what makes your bond with him so special. I advised him to communicate with that part of you.”
“Huh?”
“You would never have put up with, much less enjoyed, what he did if you didn’t trust him implicitly. For someone like you, trusting another person enough to give up control is something of a Holy Grail. I wanted to show you that it was within your grasp, if only you’re willing to reach for it.”
I shook my head violently, and I could swear I felt marbles rattling around in there. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about, but I was pretty damn sure it had something to do with his machinations to get me to cede control to him on occasion.
“Whatever. Don’t screw with my love life again! It’s none of your business.”
Lugh laughed, though I didn’t know what was so damn funny.
“Besides,” I continued loudly, “I thought you wanted me for yourself. I bet you didn’t mention that to Brian.”
The laughter faded, replaced by a gentle condescension I liked even less. “Brian and I are not in competition. You will never have to choose between us, because I can only come to you when you sleep, and he can only come to you when you wake.”
Somehow I didn’t think Brian would see it that way if he knew the whole picture. I was also damn sure Lugh hadn’t mentioned his own seduction attempts when he was having his little chat with Brian.
I guess I was getting used to being possessed, because until that moment, I hadn’t thought through all the ramifications of my liaison with Brian—ramifications that had loomed large in my mind when Lugh had first possessed me. My jaw set into what I felt certain was an unattractive li
ne as I glared at the demon king.
“So, did you enjoy it when Brian bent me over the kitchen table to fuck me?” I might not be able to be with Lugh and Brian at the same time, but Lugh was always in residence.
Lugh flashed me a completely unrepentant smile. “I have never inhabited a female host before. I must admit the differences in sensation are fascinating, and quite pleasant. And as you have no doubt gathered, demons don’t have the same hang-ups as humans about sexual orientation.”
I suppressed a groan. Not only did I have to worry about Lugh seducing me, I now had to worry that he was using me to seduce Brian. Argh!
I suspected Lugh could read the direction of my thoughts and decided he needed to head me off before I could work my way into a world-class fury.
“Enough talk about your personal issues,” he said, his tone raising my hackles even more. “I believe Hell may have frozen over, because for once I am in agreement with my brother.” The momentary flash of humor in his eyes took a bit of the edge off my anger, though I was still poised to go for his jugular if he made one wrong move.
“Raphael said we were in need of a long-term plan,” Lugh continued. “Somehow, that plan will eventually need to include a way to contain Dougal and all his minions who know my True Name, but my first goal must be to gain myself—and, of course, you—some measure of security.”
Angry as I was, I couldn’t argue with that logic. “And how do you plan to do that?” I asked.
Lugh sat up straight in his throne, his back held stiffly upright, his chin held high, his eyes blazing amber. “I may have been ousted from my throne in the Demon Realm,” he said, “but unless Dougal succeeds in his attempts to kill me, I am still the king. It is time for me to set up my court, and in the face of necessity I shall do so on the Mortal Plain.”
Chapter 8
Lugh’s words rang in the empty hall, full of weight and portent. The thing was, I hadn’t the faintest idea what they actually meant. Set up his court? I was trying to frame a question that wouldn’t make me feel like an idiot, but Lugh answered before I succeeded. Sometimes, I don’t know why I bother actually talking to him, seeing as he knows perfectly well what I’m thinking at all times.