Speak of the Devil mk-4

by Jenna Black

  She shook her head. “I doubt you’ve been defenseless a day in your life. I’m just telling you that all the pieces of your story don’t add up. Remember, we’d already determined that you weren’t stupid enough to shoot Hillerman when you were the prime suspect.”

  “I’m not. The demon was.”

  She snorted. “Right. I just want you to know that I’ll help you if you let me. Whatever’s going on with you, it’s a lot weirder than the pat little explanation I came up with last night.”

  Geez, had that only been last night? Amazing how time doesn’t fly when you’re not having fun.

  “But I won’t bug you with it now,” she said. “I just wanted to say to you what I said to the demon: If you ever want to level with me, just give me a call.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, then pulled the pillow back over my face in a subtle bid to end the conversation.

  Barbie sighed quietly before she left, but she refrained from asking any more questions.

  For the next three days, I basically sat on the sidelines of my life. I rarely left my bed, getting up only to go to the bathroom. By the end of the first day, the nausea had eased enough that I could drink small quantities of water without tossing it back up, but clear fluids were the only things I could even get past my lips. My head pounded mercilessly, and I was even grouchier than usual. In retrospect, I feel kind of sorry for Saul, who tried his best to be helpful but probably wished he hadn’t.

  Dominic stopped by to see me once, letting me know he’d brought some homemade chicken soup for when I was up to eating. It was great incentive to get better soon. Barbie stopped by at least twice, but mostly to see Saul, not me. Adam came to check on me a couple of times, though his visits were brief. Raphael, perhaps being a smart-ass, or perhaps actually meaning to be nice, sent me flowers. There was no word from Brian, of course, though I had hoped he still cared about me enough to send flowers, or at least a card. Andy didn’t visit either, which hurt almost as much.

  By the end of day three, I was beginning to feel a tiny bit better—meaning I no longer daydreamed about blowing my brains out. That was when Andy finally paid me a visit—with Raphael practically nipping at his heels.

  I didn’t know what to make of Andy and his former demon showing up together, and I was even more confused when Raphael shoved Andy into the room and then stood blocking the doorway.

  I propped myself into a sitting position as Andy approached, his head down, his hands jammed into his pockets. Because of the headache, I was still keeping the room pretty dark, so at first I didn’t see the bruises. When I did, I gasped.

  “What happened?” I asked. One of his eyes was blackened, and bruises bloomed all around his throat, like someone had choked him.

  He opened his mouth a couple of times, but rejected whatever he’d been thinking of saying. Even in the darkness, I could see Raphael rolling his eyes.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Andrew!” he barked. “Grow a fucking backbone.”

  Something sparked in Andy’s eyes, a glimmer of anger that made him look more alive than he had in a while. He withdrew his hands from his pockets and clenched them into fists. I couldn’t help noticing the knuckles of his right hand were bruised.

  “You’ve been in a fight?” I prompted when he still didn’t say anything.

  “Not exactly,” he answered, and I could tell he was struggling to find words.

  “How about if I get the story started for you,” Raphael said, speaking slowly so he could get the maximum level of condescension into his voice. “I stopped by your apartment to encourage you to get off your ass and visit your sister …”

  I couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like Andy was grinding his teeth. By now, I was, too. I was on the verge of telling them both to get the hell out when Andy finally started talking.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t visit earlier. I just thought being around me would do you more harm than good.”

  “Bullshit,” Raphael interrupted. “You were just too busy moping to make the effort.”

  Andy whirled on him. “Did you bring me here so I could talk, or so you could? Because if you’re doing the talking, I don’t need to be here.”

  “Oh, by all means, talk away.” Raphael made an expansive hand gesture.

  Andy turned back to me, though his eyes didn’t quite meet mine. “I’m sorry for … the way I’ve been lately. Raphael tells me I’ve been feeling sorry for myself and need to pull myself up by the bootstraps. I promise I’ll try.”

  My throat tightened, and I reached out to give Andy’s hand a squeeze. I was still pretty much mystified by what was going on, but that was the most words I’d heard him string together since Raphael had moved out of him, and that had to be a good sign.

  He squeezed my hand back and forced something that vaguely resembled a smile. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but we’d never been real sentimental with each other, and I thought it would come out sounding artificial.

  “I’ll leave you to get some rest now,” he continued. “But I promise I’ll come back, and not just for council meetings.”

  The lump in my throat ached too much for me to talk, so I just nodded and gave him my most encouraging smile. By the time I thought I could speak without bawling, Andy had pushed his way past Raphael and was probably halfway to the front door. Raphael held up one finger in a gesture I took to mean “I’ll be right back,” and hurried after Andy. I realized I still had no clue what had happened.

  Andy and Raphael shared some angry, hostile words—though I couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. Then the front door slammed. My aching head loved that.

  Raphael, shaking his head, was back in my room moments later. I figured my raised eyebrows were enough to convey my slew of questions.

  “Everyone’s treating Andrew with kid gloves,” he said. “I prefer the brass knuckles approach. I went to his apartment to drag him over here for a visit. He had a few objections.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is that how he got the bruises?”

  Raphael nodded, and there was a hint of a feral grin on his lips. “I pissed him off so much the moron took a swing at me. I think he hurt his hand more than he hurt my face.”

  “And he got the shiner when he tried to head-butt you?” I growled as I glared at Raphael, hating the thought that he’d hurt my brother yet again.

  Raphael shrugged. “So I hit him back. He had it coming.”

  I swallowed the next words that wanted to come out of my mouth, because really, what was the point with Raphael? “What about the bruises around his neck?”

  “I told him if he was really ready to check out on life, I’d be happy to put him out of his misery. Funny how being unable to breathe can make someone decide life is worth living.”

  I could do nothing but gape at him.

  “It’s not going to fix what’s wrong with him,” Raphael continued, “but at least I proved to him that he does, indeed, want to live.” He grinned savagely, and my headache spiked. “Just think of it as the demon equivalent of tough love.”

  Someday, I was going to have to let Lugh take control so we could beat the crap out of Raphael. It might almost be worth the pain and nausea that followed.

  “Just get out,” I said, sinking back down into my bed, hoping to escape into sleep. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said with a laugh, slipping out the door before I had a chance to respond.

  When I woke up on day four of my misery, I felt a little stronger. I was bold enough to try sipping some orange juice, and I even dragged myself out of bed for a while. My head still pounded, and my whole body was weak, no doubt in part because I hadn’t eaten anything in days. When the orange juice stayed down, Saul made me some dry toast. My body was starved enough for nourishment that it actually tasted good.

  By lunchtime, I was eager to try a real meal, but Saul turned bossy on me and would only let me have broth with Saltines on the side. On the plus side, Dominic had
made the broth, so it was rich and flavorful.

  “So,” I said as I sat at the dining room table with Saul and spooned up some broth, “there was a lot of coming and going while I was, um, convalescing.”

  Saul gave me a look that would have done Nurse Ratched proud. “Oh, is that what you call it?”

  I’m sure I was a lousy patient, and if I’d been in Saul’s shoes I’d have been tempted to smother me with the pillow I’d continually clutched. Of course, I hadn’t asked Saul to play nursemaid.

  I decided my best course was to move on without a retort. “Is there any news I need to know?”

  “Not a whole lot that’s new. The charges against Raphael were dropped, surprise, surprise. He questioned Shae as soon as he got out, but she claims not to have heard anything from our friend, and he believes her. And your lawyer’s called every day, hoping you’d be well enough to speak to him.”

  I frowned. I gathered he meant the attorney Brian had hired for me for the lawsuit, not the criminal attorney I’d had on call.

  “If he were calling with good news—like, say, Maguire dropped the lawsuit—I presume he would have left a message,” I mused. Damn it, even though I was now cleared of the murder charges, this whole mess wasn’t over.

  “Yeah,” Saul agreed, “I didn’t get the feeling he was trying to reach you to celebrate.”

  “Fabulous.” I’d really hoped that with Hillerman dead, Maguire would lose interest in the witch hunt.

  “But perhaps not completely unexpected.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “Abraham’s big scheme to get you convicted of murder has failed spectacularly. Based on what he’s done so far, does he seem like the type to just say ‘Oh, well’ and give up?”

  “No,” I had to agree. “So he falls back on the original plan until he can think up something even more awful.”

  “That may not be such a bad thing,” Saul said. “It’s highly unlikely that he knows everything we’ve figured out about him, so he’s probably not being overly cautious. If he’s keeping the lawsuit alive, then that means his host is probably someone close to Jordan Maguire Sr.”

  “Unless Maguire just decided to continue the case on his own without anyone needing to nudge him.” But Laura Maguire had sounded awfully sure that Hillerman was the impetus behind the lawsuit.

  “That’s possible, I suppose. But it wouldn’t hurt to see if we can find out where the burning need to sue is coming from now. Maybe if we do that, we’ll find Abraham.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll give Laura a call. She might be willing to let me know if there’s someone other than her father pushing the case.” I frowned. “Of course, even if it is Maguire, Abraham could have chosen him as his next host.”

  Saul seemed to roll that one around in his head for a moment. “I think that’s unlikely. We’ve already seen how careless he is with his hosts. If he takes Maguire then ends up forced to abandon him for one reason or another, the case will die. I’m sure he’d rather be on the periphery, where he can afford to move from host to host with ease.”

  And wasn’t that just a cheerful thought? I was really looking forward to consigning the bastard to an eternity of imprisonment in the Demon Realm.

  “So,” I said, trying to sound casual, “Barbie seems to be coming over a lot.” I glanced at Saul from under my lashes as I took a sip of soup.

  His lips curled into a half smile. “Yeah,” he said, and his voice was dreamy.

  “Did you warn her you’re on the rebound?”

  The smile dimmed, and he didn’t answer.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, then shoved a cracker into my mouth to keep it occupied.

  “I really like her,” Saul said quietly.

  “I can tell. But speaking as someone who’s learned it the hard way, it’s hard to keep a relationship going for very long without honesty, and you can never be even close to honest with her.”

  I’m not sure if I was trying to protect Barbie or Saul. Maybe both. It seemed to me someone was bound to get hurt.

  “Maybe a little honesty wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  Yeah, she had him wrapped around her little finger all right. “Remember, she started out working for the bad guys. It would be stupid to trust her.”

  “I guess I’m stupid, then.”

  “Saul—”

  “I haven’t told her any state secrets,” he interrupted. “I’m not going to jeopardize Lugh for a woman I’ve known for only a handful of days. But my gut tells me she’s trustworthy.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Are you sure that’s your gut talking?”

  He gave me a dirty look. “Do you realize that when Hillerman died, her paycheck died with him? He was paying her in installments, and she only ever got the down payment. She’ll probably get the rest he owed her eventually, but not until the estate gets around to settling his debts, which could take months.”

  “And this is relevant why?”

  “Because she’s spending practically all her time doing this pro bono work for you and Adam, which means she doesn’t have time for her paying clients. I’d say that’s a good indicator that she’s dedicated to the cause.”

  I shrugged. “And I’d say it’s a good indicator Adam is still threatening her with jail time if she doesn’t cooperate.”

  Saul made an unpleasant growling sound in the back of his throat. He sneered, an expression I’d never seen on his face before. “You sound just like Raphael.”

  I knew he meant that to be a dire insult, but it fell short of the mark. “Every once in a while, he says something I agree with. This is one of those times. Have your little fling if you must, but keep your mouth shut.”

  He bristled. “I don’t take orders from you, and I certainly don’t need your permission to see Barbara.”

  “But you do take orders from Lugh, don’t you?”

  His hands were clenched into fists, and his face was dark with anger. “So is Lugh forbidding me to see her?”

  “What about it, Lugh?” I asked, and Saul and I both fell silent as we waited for his answer.

  I heard Lugh’s sigh in my head. I think it best for everyone if he refrains from romantic entanglements for the time being. He sounded regretful, but firm.

  I made a sympathetic face at Saul. “Sorry, but he agrees with me.”

  Saul pushed away from the table. “I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that because you know I can’t check with Lugh directly.”

  Unfortunately, I had no way to refute his claim. I didn’t dare let Lugh into control for even a moment. Just the thought made me shudder and made my still-aching head throb harder.

  “You’re well enough to take care of your own damn self now,” he said. “Adam said he should have my new identity all squared away in a couple of days, so I’m going to go apartment hunting. See you later.”

  He was still mad as hell—though possibly more because he knew he was in the wrong than anything else—but I doubted anything I said to him would make him feel any better. So I bit my tongue as Saul slammed the door behind him on his way out.

  Some bodyguard he turned out to be, I thought at Lugh, but he didn’t answer.

  CHAPTER 27

  After Saul left, I sat on the couch, meaning to call Laura. My head was a little woozy, so I decided I’d better do it lying down. I closed my eyes, intending to gather my strength for the ordeal of dialing.

  When I woke up, I don’t know how much later, I wasn’t alone in the apartment anymore. Saul had returned with Adam and Dominic in tow. The three of them were talking quietly in the kitchen, huddled together. Trying not to wake me, I guess.

  My head felt significantly better, so I tried slowly pushing myself up into a sitting position. I didn’t puke or pass out. It was almost enough to make me do a little happy dance. My stomach growled noisily, attracting the guys’ attention. Adam and Dom hurried to the living room to see how I was doing, while Saul, apparently still sulking, hung back.

  “Feeling
better, love?” Adam asked. I might almost have thought he cared about me, except he followed up with, “You look like death that still needs more warming over.”

  Dom punched him in the arm. “Be nice.”

  Adam made an innocent “Who, me?” face. Instead of being irritated, I actually laughed. The easygoing affection between Adam and Dom always brought a smile to my face, though my smile wilted when I remembered the state of my own love life. I wasn’t ready to give up on Brian yet—even if he was ready to give up on me—but I didn’t have the mental energy to figure out how to solve that problem in the midst of all the others.

  “Saul tells me you’ve had broth and crackers,” Dom said. “Do you think you’re up to some more solid food?”

  My stomach howled its opinion.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Dom said, then headed for the kitchen. “I’ll heat up some of that soup I brought for you.”

  “Thanks,” I called after him.

  Adam remained in the living room, slouching on the love seat nearby. “I talked to Laura Maguire about an hour ago,” he said.

  “Oh.” So much for my hopes of making myself useful. “Did you find out anything that might be of interest?”

  “Maybe. She wasn’t sure, but she thought Jessica Miles was starting to bug Maguire about the lawsuit. Something about how he shouldn’t abandon the suit, for his granddaughter’s sake.”

  I remembered that Jordan Junior and Jessica had had a child together. Somehow, I’d forgotten all about that. “So you think Abraham has taken Jessica for his host?”

  Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. But based on her history, she’s not exactly an angel. She could just be pushing it because she somehow thinks she’ll get money out of it.”

  “Well, it’s the best possibility we have, isn’t it?”

  He huffed out a sigh. “I suppose.”

  “So when I get a little better, Raphael and I will try to get our hands on Jessica and hope it goes better than when we went after David Keller.”

  Adam didn’t look happy. “What if we’re wrong? What if Jessica’s just a bitch and Abraham is lurking somewhere else? You can’t exorcize a person who’s not possessed, and if you’ve kidnapped her …”