The Devil Inside Page 26

  “No!” I screamed mentally, frantically shoving on the door, but it was too late.

  Adam drew his gun. “I’m sorry, Morgan,” he said. Then he shot Raphael…shot Andrew, my brother.

  Chapter 28

  The bullet slammed into Andrew’s chest and knocked him backward. He fell in what seemed like slow motion, landing on his back.

  With a massive burst of will, I shoved the doors of my mind shut and regained control of my body.

  “Andy!” I screamed, and ran to kneel beside him where he lay. His eyes were open, his face twisted in a grimace of pain. I grabbed his hand, feeling like an enormous fist closed around my heart. So much for my thought that I’d stopped loving my brother long ago.

  I couldn’t form words around the lump of despair in my throat. I watched the blood spread over Andrew’s chest, and knew Raphael had no intention of healing the wound.

  Impotent rage freed my voice. “Heal my brother, you bastard!” Tears streaked down my cheeks. “Don’t you do this!”

  “Have to,” he grunted. “Need to…go back home…infiltrate again.” He coughed blood. “This is…good cover story.” His eyes slid shut, but I could still hear his labored breathing.

  “No! Raphael! Heal him. Please. I’ll exorcize you, send you back.”

  But I knew he wasn’t going to do it, even before he shook his head. “Too strong for you,” he gasped. “Sorry.”

  Adam knelt beside me. I turned to him, my rage so huge I thought I might kill him with my puny human hands. He gave me a grave, regretful look.

  “I had to do it, Morgan, but don’t give up hope.”

  That made me blink. I’d expected excuses and explanations. I sucked in a sobbing breath.

  “Let Lugh surface again,” Adam continued. His voice was soft and gentle, like he was talking to a frightened child. At that moment, I’m not sure that was so far off. “He’s a very powerful demon—perhaps the most powerful of us all. He might still be able to heal Andrew after Raphael has fled.”

  I blinked stupidly. “Raphael can’t ‘flee’ unless Andrew is dead.”

  “Raphael can flee as soon as Andrew’s heart stops beating. If I do CPR and Lugh transfers to Andrew, we might be able to get his heart beating again and heal him.”

  I sniffled and tried to think straight. If I let Lugh surface again, I could heal Andy and be rid of my unwanted guest at the same time. My life could go back to normal—assuming I didn’t die or go catatonic when Lugh left me, that is. Somehow, I thought that was unlikely. If I could still function as myself even with a demon living in me, it stood to reason that I’d function without him as well.

  But even if this killed me, I couldn’t just let my brother die.

  I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, then closed my eyes and imagined opening the doors.

  Nothing happened at first. I’d been so frantic when I’d let Lugh surface the first time that I wasn’t sure I knew exactly how I’d done it.

  “Hurry, Morgan,” Adam said. “He stopped breathing.”

  Adam’s words injected a shot of panic into me, and the adrenaline gave me the strength I needed to open the doors. I felt Lugh fill me, felt the slight changes in my posture and facial expression that said I was no longer myself.

  “Don’t let go of his hand,” Lugh said. “I’ll try my best to save him, but if I fail, I need to be able to return to you.”

  Then I felt him drain away.

  Adam leapt into motion, positioning his hands on Andrew’s sternum and starting CPR. The pressure made more blood pour out of the wound. All I could do was pray.

  It seemed to go on forever. Adam pumping away at my brother’s chest, then breathing into his mouth. Despair settled over me, even as I told myself that the wound didn’t seem to be bleeding as much.

  Finally, Adam rocked back on his heels. Grief threatened to overwhelm me. Until I saw Andrew’s chest rise and then fall.

  Another rush of tears crawled down my cheeks, and I squeezed his hand convulsively.

  “You did it!” I said. I wasn’t sure whether I was talking to Lugh or to Adam. “Thank you.”

  Adam nodded, then gave me a pitying look. I didn’t like it.

  “What?” I asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “For Raphael’s cover story to stay intact, Andrew can’t be hosting a demon. Raphael will have to tell Dougal’s people that his host was killed. And if any of their operatives on the Mortal Plain discover he’s still hosting…The fact that I managed to resuscitate him at all will put some doubt into the story, but as long as it’s clear he’s not hosting when it’s over, Dougal’s people should believe it.”

  I dropped Andrew’s hand and scooted away. Yeah, I’d mostly transferred Lugh to save Andrew’s life, but I can’t pretend I hadn’t also looked forward to getting rid of him.

  Not that I didn’t like him, you understand. His kindness and his noble cause had definitely won me over. But these last couple weeks of playing the reluctant hero had been more than enough for me! When I thought about what I’d gone through because of him—being attacked by my best friend, having my house burned to the ground, watching Adam murder my former best friend, letting Adam hurt me, almost being burned at the stake…

  Let Andrew be the hero. It’s what he always wanted, why he decided to be a host in the first place.

  “It’s too late,” Adam said. “He transferred back as soon as Andrew’s heart started beating.”

  I hadn’t felt a thing. But I believed him anyway. I drew my knees up to my chest and lowered my head, hugging my knees to me and fighting despair.

  “You bastards,” I said, but I didn’t think Adam could hear me. Lugh could. They’d let me believe that if Andrew survived, Lugh would stay with him, that I’d be free. That was as good as lying, in my book.

  I really believe that if they’d explained what they were planning to do, I’d have gone along with the plan. I wouldn’t have liked it, but if I’d thought about the consequences of Andrew showing up still hosting a demon, I probably would have agreed that I had to take Lugh back.

  But there’s always that hint of doubt.

  Lugh can read all my thoughts and feelings. He knows me better than it’s possible for any human being to know another. And he chose not to tell me he planned to move back in. Does that mean that given the opportunity to get rid of him, I would have said To hell with the human race, just let me be free?

  I don’t think that’s the case. I think Lugh didn’t clue me in because he couldn’t take the time to explain while Andrew lay dying. That’s what he tells me, though maybe he’s just telling me what I want to hear.

  Adam picked up Andrew’s limp body and carried him to the car. He was going to have to do a lot of creative talking when he got my brother to the emergency room, but I was sure he’d manage.

  And me? Yeah, I’d manage too, eventually. But I knew as long as Lugh was a part of me, my life would never be the same, would never be truly my own. And that was one hell of a depressing thought.

  Brian was awake, but groggy, by the time I got to the hospital. Emotional coward that I am, I’d checked on Dominic first. Dom was doing fine—“just a flesh wound,” he’d joked—and would be out of the hospital in a day or two.

  My throat ached, and something I might almost have called terror tightened my chest as I walked through the door into Brian’s room. I swear, if I’d seen condemnation in his eyes, I would have shattered into little pieces right there. Instead, he smiled weakly and held out his hand.

  My throat was too tight for words, so I just took his hand and sat down beside him on the bed. His eyes were heavy with drugs—either the ones the bad guys had given him, or the ones the hospital had—and he didn’t seem inclined to talk.

  I cleared my throat to try to loosen my voice. “I’m sorry,” I said. “About everything.”

  Another weak smile, and he squeezed my hand. His voice sounded hoarse and dreamy. “No worries. It’s all over now.”

 
; I did my best not to wince, because, of course, it was far from over. But I was going to make sure that for Brian, at least, it was. I had learned a hard lesson, and I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

  He was losing the battle against sleep, his eyes sliding shut then jerking open again as he desperately tried to stay awake. I was going to miss him more than I could possibly say.

  “I love you,” I told him as his eyes closed once more. This time, they didn’t open again. I bent over and kissed him very gently on the lips. His eyelids fluttered, but that was all.

  “I’ll always love you.”

  When I was sure he was fast asleep, I slipped my hand out of his. I’d risked everything to save him, and I’d be damned if I let him get hurt because of me again. So I was going to be a big girl about this and do the right thing. I was going to let him go, even though he would never understand.

  Even though it was going to hurt more than anything I’d ever done before in my life.

  I paused in the doorway, looking back on his sleeping form. “Goodbye,” I whispered. Then I forced myself to walk away.

  Epilogue

  Andrew survived the gunshot wound to his chest. The doctors were amazed he made it. Unfortunately, his mind didn’t. It’s possible he’s brain-damaged from the time his heart wasn’t beating. Or it could be from losing Raphael—you can’t tell the difference, or at least humans don’t know how yet. When he finally came to after the surgery, his stare was entirely vacant. My family is devastated. I know my mom and dad look at me and wish I’d been the one to take the bullet. Harsh, but true. If only they knew…

  I asked Lugh whether he knew why some demon hosts, like Dominic, recovered with no ill effects, and some turned out like Andrew. He wouldn’t answer me, which suggests he knows, but won’t tell. Demons do love their secrets. My guess is that Raphael ran roughshod over him and broke him, but maybe I’m wrong. If Raphael returns to the Mortal Plain and I run into him, it won’t be pretty. I’ve got a lot of axes to grind.

  I visit Andrew at least once a week, timing my visit to miss any of my other family members. Those few demon hosts who’ve recovered from the catatonia have said they were conscious and aware the whole time, even though they couldn’t control their bodies, so I talk to him and read to him. Anything to keep him entertained, to keep his mind from atrophying, assuming his mind is still there. And I tell him that I love him—something I hadn’t done in far too long.

  The slaughter at Jeremy Wyatt’s farm wasn’t discovered until days later, after a torrential downpour had washed away most of the evidence. Because many of the victims were members of God’s Wrath, and because of the nature of the injuries on the ones who weren’t shot to death, the authorities believe they were murdered by avenging demons. Not far from the truth. Adam assures me that no one would ever suspect Andrew or me of having been the killers. I have to admit, I see his point.

  Which brings me to Brian. The drugs Wyatt’s people had given him made his memory of his captivity hazy at best. He’ll wear the physical scars for the rest of his life, but his mind appears to be intact. Thanks to some creative storytelling, the authorities believe it was Andrew who tortured him as a way to punish me for the bad blood between us. My parents staunchly refuse to believe Andrew’s demon did such a terrible thing.

  I love Brian more than ever, but I’ve stood firm in my resolve to break up with him for his own good. I rented an apartment in Center City and didn’t give him my new address. I tried the same with my office. He found both addresses, and sends me letters at least once a week. He harbors hope that he can change my mind, can win me back. He’s trying every romantic ploy in the book, from flowers, to poems, to serenades. He’s one of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. But then, so am I.

  I don’t know what’s going to happen next. For the time being, Lugh is content to let me recover from the ordeals I’ve gone through. Eventually, I’m going to have to step back into my ill-fitting hero shoes. Because Dougal’s demons are still out there, and as long as they are, I won’t be safe, and neither will the human race.

  The fate of humanity resting firmly on my shoulders? The irony is so thick you could eat it with a spoon. Lugh tells me I make a better hero than I think.

  I sure hope he’s right.

  About the Author

  JENNA BLACK is your typical writer. Which means she’s an “experience junkie.” She got her BA in physical anthropology and French from Duke University.

  Once upon a time, she dreamed she would be the next Jane Goodall, camping in the bush making fabulous discoveries about primate behavior. Then, during her senior year at Duke, she did some actual research in the field and made this shocking discovery: primates spend something like 80% of their time doing such exciting things as sleeping and eating.

  Concluding that this discovery was her life’s work in the field of primatology, she then moved on to such varied pastimes as grooming dogs and writing technical documentation. Visit her on the web at www.JennaBlack.com.

  If you enjoyed

  The Devil Inside

  be sure not to miss the next

  exciting Morgan Kingsley novel:

  The Devil You Know

  by

  Jenna Black

  Coming in 2008

  Here’s a special excerpt….

  The Devil You Know

  On sale in 2008

  Chapter 1

  There’s no denying Dominic Castello is a treat to look at—the classic tall, dark, and handsome; soulful hazel eyes framed by thick lashes, warm olive skin, muscles in all the right places…. But on seeing him standing in my doorway, my first impulse was to shut the door in his face.

  He must have read my expression, for he wedged his foot in the door and smiled at me. He has a sweet, disarming smile that would turn most women to jelly, but I’m not most women. Besides, his equally good-looking boyfriend was the sadomasochistic demon host who’d shot my brother. That put Dominic near the bottom of the list of people I wanted to see, with only his boyfriend, Adam, and pretty much my entire family below him.

  Unfortunately, with him being well over six feet tall and at least two hundred pounds, I wasn’t keeping him out of my apartment now that I’d been stupid enough to open the door in the first place.

  Giving in to the inevitable, I moved away from the door, letting him come in, though I didn’t actually invite him. I headed to my minuscule kitchen, where a half-full pot of coffee left over from breakfast still sat on the warmer.

  “Wanna cup?” I asked without looking at him.

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  I filled two mugs, noticing that the coffee was dark as ink and smelled stale. If it were just me, I’d make a fresh pot, but I didn’t want Dominic staying that long.

  “Cream and sugar?”

  Dominic looked at the tar-scented swill in the cup I handed him and shook his head. “I doubt it would help much.”

  That almost made me smile. “So, what brings you to this part of town?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee to prove it was drinkable and trying not to gag when I discovered it wasn’t.

  When Dominic didn’t immediately answer, my nerves went on red alert. Apparently, this wasn’t a social call, which I suppose I’d known all along.

  “Maybe we should sit down for a bit,” he suggested.

  I really hated the sound of that—and the way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. My stomach made an unhappy gurgle, and my fingers clenched on the coffee cup. I put it down before I took a sip by reflex.

  For the last few weeks, I’d been trying my best to live under a rock. I’d had enough stress lately to last me a lifetime or three. Realistically, I knew my problems were far from over, but I’d been determined to hold them at bay for as long as possible—ideally, until I was on my deathbed.

  See, here’s the thing. I’m an exorcist. My calling in life, my very raison d’être, is to kick demon ass. Only the ones who possess unwilling hosts or who commit violent crimes, of course, but
in reality I didn’t like legal demons much better. So as you can imagine, my life became a little complicated when I found out I was possessed by the king of the demons, who was embroiled in a war for the throne of the Demon Realm.

  For reasons neither of us understand, the demon king, Lugh, can’t take control of me the way a normal demon can. Even though I’m possessed, I remain in total control of my body. For the most part, Lugh can only take command when I’m asleep, and can only communicate with me through dreams.

  From the moment I found out I was possessed, my life shot straight to hell and stayed there. My best friend tried to kill me. My house was burned to the ground. I was thrown in jail for murder. My boyfriend, Brian—actually, he’s my ex-boyfriend now, though I have yet to convince him of this fact—was kidnapped and tortured in an attempt to get to me. And, to win his aid in rescuing Brian, I let Dominic’s boyfriend whip me bloody for his own amusement.

  All in all, I was desperately in need of some R&R. But since I wasn’t getting Dominic out of my apartment through brute force, I figured the quickest way to get rid of him was to listen to what he had to say.

  I’m sure I looked pretty sulky and mulish as I led him into my living room and gestured him toward my couch. I dropped into the love seat and suffered a momentary pang of yearning for the homey, comfortable furniture that had been destroyed when my house burned down. I’d rented this apartment furnished, and nothing in it reflected my taste. This love seat, for example was hard enough to numb my ass. I hoped the sofa would have the same effect on Dominic.

  “So we’re sitting down,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?”

  He put his cup on the coffee table—I don’t think he’d been stupid enough to take a sip, like I had—then turned so he could face me full-on. I didn’t like the intensity of his expression, so instead of looking at him, I idly tugged on a loose thread on the arm of the love seat.