Speak of the Devil mk-4 Read online

  Saul joined us at the kitchen table about five minutes into the meal. Apparently, showering at superhuman speed was one of his talents.

  As soon as Saul entered the room, I felt the tension that Adam had mentioned. Maybe only because Adam had warned me, but I think even someone as dense as me would have noticed it—though it was a subtle brand of tension.

  The three of them joked and laughed amiably, and Dominic practically glowed when anyone praised his cooking. But there was still something slightly … off. Perhaps it was in the way Saul looked at Dom, with a hint of wistfulness in his expression. Or perhaps Adam was making more possessive little gestures than usual. He did seem to go out of his way to touch Dom. Dom had told me once that Adam was insecure. I had a hard time seeing Adam that way. To me, he always seemed a pillar of self-confidence. Arrogance, actually. But I had to admit, he did rather resemble a man afraid he was going to lose his lover.

  Call me a cynic, but I suspected the reason Adam wanted Saul out was more for his own sake than Dom’s.

  You could never get out of Dom’s kitchen without eating dessert, and tonight was no exception. It was a simple cheesecake, no fancy toppings, no froufrou flavors, but it was the best I’d ever eaten.

  The conversation came to a bit of a lull as we were sipping the dark, bold Italian roast coffee that topped off the meal. I suck at small talk—ask anyone, they’ll agree—but unfortunately that didn’t always stop my gums from flapping at inopportune moments.

  So as some light, pleasant after-dinner conversation, I looked at Saul and blurted, “What’s the deal with you and Raphael, anyway?”

  There was a lot I still didn’t know about Saul, and I had to admit I was curious. It wasn’t until we’d summoned him to the Mortal Plain that I’d learned his true identity: He was Raphael’s son. Raphael’s estranged son. I didn’t know anyone who actually liked Raphael—Andy and I both hated him—but I think even we didn’t hate him as much as Saul did.

  My words were about as welcome as a cockroach parade. All three men turned to look at me with varying degrees of disapproval.

  I’ll admit, I knew I was in the wrong. This wasn’t the right time to discuss Saul’s relationship with Raphael. But once I’d hurled the question out there, I wasn’t willing to take it back.

  I shrugged as if unconcerned by the glares the guys were shooting at me. “Come on. It’s a fair question, and I’ve waited more than a week to ask it. I’m not usually that patient.” I could have asked Lugh about it, but we hadn’t been communicating a whole lot lately. I was having a lot of trouble sleeping, and Lugh didn’t want to disturb those hours I managed with our lucid dream conversations.

  “It’s none of your business why Raphael and I don’t get along,” Saul finally said, breaking the tense silence.

  It didn’t escape my notice that Saul had said “Raphael” rather than “my father.” Whatever it was that lay between them, it was deep-seated.

  “You’re both part of Lugh’s council, and I’m Lugh’s host,” I retorted. “If there’s a problem between you and Raphael, I need to know about it.” I tried to sound like the voice of authority, but I’m not sure I succeeded.

  “You know there’s a problem. There’s no reason to go into the specifics.”

  To my surprise, Dominic cut in before I could formulate my reply. “There’s also no reason not to,” he said. “Why should it be a secret?”

  I glanced at Dom, wondering if he knew the answer himself. But I was pretty sure he wouldn’t tell me even if he did. It was Saul’s story to tell—or not to tell, as the case may be.

  Saul’s mouth pursed like he’d just eaten something nasty, but he caved under Dominic’s persuasion.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you all about my relationship with my sire.” His eyes narrowed, and I could see the muscles in his jaw working. “I refuse to call him my father when the only reason he sired me was to piss off Lugh.”

  I felt my eyebrows arch in mingled surprise and curiosity. I was never much into gossip—you have to have girlfriends for that, and I’d always related better to guys—but this definitely piqued my interest.

  “Back up one moment,” I said, despite my curiosity. “There’s something I don’t understand. You guys are incorporeal in the Demon Realm. So how do you, er, reproduce?” I wondered if that was a rude question, and I also wondered if the answer would embarrass me, but Saul answered matter-of-factly enough.

  “We don’t have bodies as you would understand them, but we are still distinct entities. It might help if you think of us as collections of energy. It’s not a very accurate description, but it works as an analogy. When we mate, the child we create draws energy from both parents. The more powerful the parents, the more energy the child draws. If the parents are of unequal power, then the more powerful parent has to contribute more energy to protect the less powerful one. Otherwise, the less powerful one can be drained completely and die.

  “My mother was a … friend of Lugh’s, although she was of a much lesser rank and was much less powerful. Lugh is egalitarian enough to care about the lower-ranked demons as much as about the royals and elite, and he and Raphael fought about it. Raphael thought Lugh should ‘stick to his own kind.’ When Lugh didn’t agree, Raphael struck out at him through my mother. He convinced her to have a child with him. He promised to contribute the lion’s share of the energy and to protect her from the drain. But, as usual, he lied. He put in as little as possible and let my mother pour her … life force into me.

  “My mother was destroyed, and I was born a royal without a royal’s power.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “It’s not unheard-of for demons of such wildly disparate power to have children,” Adam said softly when it seemed that was all Saul had to say. “But it is unusual. When it happens, it is usually the more powerful parent who is most … depleted. They return to full strength eventually, but it can take centuries for them to regenerate all the energy they lost. If Delilah had known Raphael better, she’d have realized he’d never put himself in such a position. But she didn’t, and the lure of having a royal child was too much for her to resist.

  “We are something of an elitist society, I’m afraid, and had Raphael followed through on his promise, her rank would have been greatly elevated.”

  I rolled all that information around inside my head, wondering what to make of it. I’d never really speculated on demon reproduction before, but I guessed I understood Saul’s explanation—except for one thing.

  “Why did Raphael do it?” I asked. Yes, I hated him. Yes, he was ruthless, and selfish, and at least borderline evil. He was even capable of being petty. But for all of that, there was a reason behind everything he did. Not a good reason, mind you, at least not from my point of view, but a reason nonetheless.

  “I told you,” Saul said with a little snarl. “To piss Lugh off. And because he could.”

  My every instinct told me there was more to it than that. I glanced at Adam and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged and shook his head, which I took to mean he shared my opinion but didn’t know Raphael’s motivation, either.

  I wasn’t about to approach Raphael to ask him about it. But surely Lugh knew exactly what his brother had been up to. I sent him a mental message to talk to me in my dreams tonight. I was pretty sure he’d grant my request.

  CHAPTER 3

  I was in quite the pensive mood when I left Adam’s place. I could clearly see that the current housing arrangements weren’t optimal, but I felt no more inclined to offer Saul my spare room than I had before. I like to think I’m a pretty decent human being, but I’m not all that altruistic by nature.

  I decided that instead of brooding on my inadequacies, I’d brood on what Adam had told me this afternoon about Reporter Barbie. Although I’d known I hadn’t seen the last of her, I’d sort of allowed myself to forget about her for a while. Out of sight, out of mind, you know? But now that she was back in the forefront…

  I was halfway to my car, whic
h I’d parked by the curb a little more than a block from Adam’s house, when it occurred to me that if Barbie really was bent on investigating me, she might well be following me around, trying to dig up dirt. So instead of just getting in my car and driving away, I took a moment to regard my surroundings.

  When you grow up female in a big city like Philadelphia, you learn to always be aware of who’s around you. But you also learn to ignore people who don’t register on your threat radar. Sometimes when you see people walking down the street, it looks almost as if each one believes he or she is the only human being around.

  No one had tweaked my threat radar, but then, Barbie wouldn’t. Scanning the pedestrians who were within my line of sight, I searched for any sign of her. No dice. I almost convinced myself to just forget it, but my paranoia was in high gear, so I began examining the parked cars by the sides of the street.

  There were enough streetlights to more than illuminate the streets and sidewalks, but car roofs made great shadows, and if I hadn’t been looking so closely, I never would have seen her. She was nothing more than a patch of deeper darkness in the shadowed interior of a nondescript little sedan, and I might almost have missed her even in my careful sweep if the headlights of another car hadn’t momentarily shone on her face.

  Clenching my teeth, I strode toward the car. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do—after all, as far as I knew, she wasn’t doing anything illegal—but I was determined to get her off my back one way or another.

  It didn’t take her long to realize she’d been made, and I halfway expected her to start her car and zoom on out of there. Instead, she opened the door and stepped out to wait for me.

  I thought of her as “Barbie” because she was petite, blond, and curvy, and her sweetly pretty face still reminded me of some stereotypical vapid cheerleader. However, today she seemed to be going for the Cat-burglar Barbie look: tight black pants, a snug black T-shirt that clung in a way that would make guys’ tongues hang out, and a light black jacket. Her usually ostentatious blond hair was pulled back into a pony-tail at the nape of her neck, the stray wisps held back from her face by a black velvet headband. All the better to hide in the shadows, I guess, though with her pale skin she probably needed camouflage makeup— or a ski mask—to stay truly hidden.

  I came to a stop in front of her, close enough to make the most of our disparate heights. Of course, this was a woman who’d been willing to go toe-to-toe with a demon, so I wasn’t surprised that she wasn’t intimidated. She was also probably armed—it was a little warm for that jacket tonight, unless she was wearing it to hide her shoulder holster.

  “You look like an extra from MissionImpossible,” I informed her, but instead of being insulted, she smiled and shrugged.

  “So it’s a bit of a clichéd outfit. But black works best for nighttime surveillance.”

  “I guess that means you’re not pretending to be a reporter anymore.”

  “I’m sure you’ve already shot that cover story full of holes, so I see no need to insult your intelligence by keeping it up.”

  “Considerate of you,” I said, then wondered what to say next. What did I hope to accomplish by confronting her? I didn’t know, and now I wished I’d thought it out beforehand.

  “For an exorcist, you seem to spend an awful lot of time in the company of demons,” she commented.

  I didn’t know what to say to that, so I decided to keep my mouth shut.

  “Especially Adam White,” she continued. “I’ve canvased the neighbors, and I know you’ve spent the night there at least once.”

  I’ve never been any good at keeping a poker face, and I’m sure my shock and dismay were obvious. This was the city! People weren’t supposed to pay any attention to their neighbors here. I couldn’t think of any reason why my spending time with Adam would be harmful to me in the lawsuit, but Barbie could definitely make my life … uncomfortable if she decided to share that information.

  Brian knew, of course, that I spent a lot of time with Adam. We were, after all, both members of Lugh’s council. But he didn’t know about my overnight stays. Not that I’d stayed overnight anytime recently, and I’d been a prisoner both times, but I didn’t want Brian to know anything about that. I had made a pretty sickening sacrifice, allowing Adam to “play” with me in return for his help in rescuing Brian when he’d been kidnapped by Dougal’s supporters. Adam’s idea of “playing” was to whip me until my back was reduced to bloody shreds—damage that Lugh was able to heal over the course of a few hours. And that Brian would never know about, because knowing would damage him.

  Since my face had already told Barbie she’d hit a nerve, I decided not to try to hide it. “The time I spend with Adam is none of your business,” I snarled. “I can’t blame you for doing your job.” Actually, yes, I could, and I’m sure she heard that in my voice. “But my personal life has nothing to do with my professional life, so keep your nose out of it.”

  It would have been nice if Barbie had looked chastened and repentant, then apologized profusely and driven away, never to be seen again. But I wasn’t exactly shocked that it didn’t go that way.

  Barbie flashed me a sardonic smile, very much at odds with her innocently pretty face. “I know you’re not as naive as that. Anything and everything can be used as evidence against you in the suit. It may not affect the final outcome, but it can certainly make your life difficult for months, maybe even years.”

  I reminded myself that Barbie was just doing her job and probably didn’t deserve to have her bright white teeth knocked out of her jaw. “I don’t understand. I don’t have any money, and Maguire wouldn’t need it even if I had it. Between his lawyers and you, he’s spending way more than he can ever hope to get back. What’s the point?”

  I thought I saw a hint of sympathy in Barbie’s expression, though it might have been wishful thinking on my part. “I think the point has already been amply demonstrated.” She opened her car door. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.” Her face actually looked a bit grim. “I’m very good at my job.”

  Her words sent a very definite chill down my spine, and I couldn’t think of a good retort as she climbed into her car and drove away. Instinct told me she wouldn’t go far, and I’d better scrutinize my every move for the duration of the suit.

  Have I mentioned that my life sucks?

  I’m not big on medically enhanced sleep, but that night I couldn’t resist the lure of a sleeping pill. But even with the drug, my mind was reluctant to drift away into unconsciousness, and I lay in my bed tossing and turning, despite my heavy eyelids, for well over an hour.

  Eventually, I succumbed, but I doubt I’d gotten more than a few minutes of blissful oblivion in before I “awoke” in Lugh’s living room.

  He didn’t really have a living room, of course. But he had complete control of my dreams, and he could set those dreams in any environment he pleased. This living room was the environment he chose most frequently, but in the past he’d also conjured an intimidating throne room and a sexy bedroom, depending on what effect he wanted to have on me.

  Apparently, he wanted to be comforting tonight, because in addition to the usual decor of his living room, there was a crackling wood fire. I was sitting— reclining, actually—on the world’s softest leather couch, my bare feet propped on a matching ottoman, facing the fire. Without raising my head from the back of the couch, I turned to face Lugh, who was sitting just close enough to invade my personal space. I’d given up on trying to get him to respect my boundaries, so I didn’t bother scooching away.

  Just like the living room, Lugh’s body was an illusion—a construct created specifically to appeal to me. But let me tell you, he sure knows how to appeal. Tall and golden-skinned, with long black hair, warm amber eyes, and a body to die for—hopefully, not literally—he pushed every one of my buttons. Hard. If it weren’t for the fact that I was in love with Brian, I don’t know that I could have kept myself from jumping Lugh’s bones.

 
To make matters worse, Lugh didn’t think Brian should be any impediment to my enjoyment of his… charms. As far as he was concerned, since I could only be with him when I was asleep, and I could only be with Brian when I was awake, there was no competition between them—and therefore, no reason for me to choose one over the other. But we were never going to see eye-to-eye on that issue. And while tonight Lugh looked as yummy as ever, he didn’t seem to be putting the moves on me. Yet.

  “I gathered you wished to speak to me?” he asked with an elegant arch of his brows.

  Gathered my ass. He lived in my body, and in my mind. He knew all my thoughts and feelings, even the ones I kept under lock and key. Even the ones I didn’t want to acknowledge. If I allowed myself to think about it, I could bring on a panic attack, so I stopped thinking and answered him instead.

  “Care to give me your version of the Raphael and Delilah story? I’m not sure Saul’s version is reliable.”

  “My version won’t be completely unbiased, either,” he warned with a self-deprecating smile. But behind that smile, there was something else in his expression, something … angry? Bitter? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that it wasn’t a happy emotion.

  “I’m not expecting it to be,” I assured him. Though I must admit, I was expecting it to be less biased than Saul’s. Lugh had the enviable ability to regard people and events with a certain degree of distance. It wasn’t a lack of emotion, it was…

  “An ability to temporarily set those emotions aside.”

  I scowled at Lugh. Not that I didn’t know he could “hear” my internal conversations, but sometimes it would be nice if he would just pretend he couldn’t.

  He smiled apologetically. “Saul’s description of the actual events was basically accurate. His assessment of my brother’s motivation was not.”

  “So Raphael didn’t do it just to piss you off?”

  A muscle ticked in Lugh’s jaw. “Oh, I’m sure he considered that one of the fringe benefits. And it wasn’t until very recently that I realized how much more there was to it than that. At the time, I took it at face value. I believed he was striking out at me through the woman I loved, and that was when I formally severed our relationship.”