by Jenna Black
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 seminice 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.”
I suppressed a shudder at the thought. “Your doorman said you had a three-month wait list.”
“I’d be willing to make an exception for you.”
I’m sure we both knew that Hell would freeze over before I joined, but I played along with her anyway. Trying to reel in my prey. Or just trying to give myself time to change my mind and walk away.
I raised my eyebrows. “Why would you do that?” I had to resist the urge to shrink back when Shae reached out and hooked an elbow around my arm. “Because you provide boundless entertainment,” she said, trying to steer me toward the door into the heart of the club.
I dug in my heels. I didn’t want to go in there again, especially not on Shae’s arm. “Let’s cut the crap,” I said. “I have no interest is setting foot in your club again.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You already have.” “You know what I mean. Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?”
She let go of my arm—thank God—and gazed at me curiously. I put on my blandest expression and hoped that I was getting better at hiding what I was feeling. Shae would have creeped me out even if I didn’t know she was an illegal demon. There was just something about her. Not evil, per se, but perhaps. . chaotic.
Whatever she read or didn’t read in my face, Shae seemed satisfied. She smiled at me once more and gestured to the Employees Only door.
“Come along,” she said, heading that way. “We can talk in my office.”
I wasn’t surprised the door was locked, but I was a bit surprised to see it was key-carded. The card reader was hidden in a particularly deep shadow, and I hadn’t noticed it before. I wondered if following Shae through that door was a monumentally stupid thing to do. My Taser was in my purse, but I’d learned through hard experience that it didn’t do me a whole lot of good in there.
I grabbed the door, which was heavy and solid, but didn’t immediately follow. Shae turned back and raised an eyebrow.
“Is there a problem?” she asked, and her smile told me she knew exactly what the problem was.
“I’m expecting a call from Adam,” I told her, which was actually true. “I was just wondering if you get cell phone reception in here. It looks kind of. . formidable.”
Yeah, okay, the “expected phone call” gambit was a cliché straight out of about three thousand suspense movies. Usually used to no avail, come to think of it. But it was the first thing that popped into my mind, and I didn’t have enough time to come up with something better.
Shae laughed, but at least she was kind enough not to berate me for my lack of originality.
“You’ll have no trouble getting a signal,” she assured me. “I use my cell in here all the time.”
It was time for me to make up my mind. Was I following Shae into the nether regions of her club, away from all possible witnesses, or would I play it safe, tell her we’d talk some other time, and get the hell out?
Playing it safe has never been one of my fortes, so of course I followed her.
I suppose I’d been expecting something mysteriouslooking based on the key card entry. What I found instead was a hallway that could have been plucked out of any modest-sized office building in the city. On my right, a janitor’s closet. On my left, a supply room. Just past that was Shae’s office. At the very end of the hall, there was an unmarked door with a card reader beside it.
“What’s in there?” I asked Shae as she pushed open her office door and gestured me inside.
“Just more offices,” Shae answered, but I don’t think she expected me to believe her.
What was behind that door was none of my business, I reminded myself. I was here to see what I could find out about Tommy Brewster, not poke my nose into the shadier sides of Shae’s business.
Shae’s office was as striking as Shae herself. The walls were painted black, and the floor was covered with black, industrial-style carpet. Her desk was gleaming black lacquer with silver accents, and her chair was black mesh with silver tubing. On each side of her desk was a shiny metal bookcase, filled with very boring-looking business titles, and the only adornment on the walls were some black and white photographs of cityscapes, each framed in silver.
I found the ef
fect cold and forbidding. But then, it went well with its owner.
Shae gestured me into a guest chair, then took a seat behind her desk and leaned back, crossing her hands behind her head. Her eyes gleamed with interest and speculation as she watched me sit. Under the guise of checking my phone, I opened my purse and made sure I had a clear shot at the Taser. I also armed it and glanced at the battery indicator. It was ready to go, should I need it.
“So,” Shae said, apparently impatient with my dithering, “what can I do for you, Ms. Kingsley?”
I had any number of suggestions, but I didn’t think voicing them would be conducive to a productive discussion. “I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Tommy Brewster. I hear he’s a frequent visitor to your club, and I gather that the two of you have some kind of a business relationship.”
Shae blinked at me for a moment, then laughed—a deep, rich laughter that I’m sure many men would find sexy as hell. I merely found it irritating. But then, I’m sure that’s what she intended.
“I see you put as much value in subtlety as I do,” Shae said when she could stop laughing.
I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Subtlety is highly overrated.”
She controlled her laughter, although amusement still tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I couldn’t agree more. So if we’re going to dispense with subtlety, let me ask you what the hell makes you think I’m going to answer any questions about Tommy?”
I considered pulling the Taser to give her some instant motivation. Then I recognized the fundamental problem with that idea. Many demons enjoyed pain, and it seemed likely that a demon who owned a club that catered to the S&M crowd would be one of them. That made threatening her with pain pointless.
“Do you have any personal loyalty to Tommy?” I asked instead.
Shae gave me a droll look. “Honey, do I look like the kind of person who’d have personal loyalty to anyone?”