The Devil's Playground mk-5 Page 8

  Barbie sat forward in her chair. “So it doesn’t bother you at all that a woman was beaten to death because of us?”

  Saul, sitting beside Barbie, laughed bitterly. “Do you have any idea how many people have died because of the things my sire has done? Expecting him to feel remorse is like expecting him to grow a halo and wings.”

  I tensed, thinking this conflict was about to escalate, but Raphael surprised me with the mildness of his answer.

  “Whether I feel remorse or not doesn’t matter,” he said. “I know what you all think of me, and, frankly, I don’t give a damn. I’m giving you my opinion of what I think we should do next, but it will ultimately be Lugh’s decision.” He looked at me. “The council is here for discussion and advice, but we all know who’s in charge.”

  “Care to comment, Lugh?” I asked.

  I’m afraid remorse is not a luxury we can afford, he answered. We need more information, and these newly arrived demons are the key to getting it.

  I didn’t like his answer—even though I knew he was probably right—so I didn’t share it. “Does anyone have a better idea?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound like I was pleading.

  “Lugh agrees with me,” Raphael said, reading Lugh’s answer in my face. “But perhaps there’s a way to make our course of action more palatable.”

  “I’d love to hear it,” I muttered.

  “When we’ve finished questioning our next subject, Morgan can perform an exorcism. Without the demon in residence, there would be no reason for our enemies to kill the host.”

  Adam looked dubious. “Even if the demon was keeping the host shut out, the host might know something damaging enough that they’d kill him anyway.”

  Raphael shook his head. “After we’ve already questioned him and wrung every possible drop of information out of him? What would be the point? It would be an unnecessary risk.”

  “Of course, if the demon’s had a couple of weeks to do a hatchet job on the host’s psyche,” I said, “the host might not survive the exorcism.”

  “But you believe that exorcism is the lesser of two evils when an unwilling host is involved,” he countered. “Even if by some miracle the demon and host get along famously, they’re going to be under the thumb of someone who regards humans as nothing more than cattle, to be used and discarded as necessary.”

  “You mean like you?” Saul muttered, but Raphael ignored him.

  “It’s a good plan,” Raphael said. “We get the information we need, and the host gets rid of an unwanted visitor. Surely even you can’t object to that, son.”

  Usually, Raphael shows a remarkable amount of restraint around Saul, considering how heavily Saul goads him. But every once in a while, he got his subtle verbal jabs in, almost like he couldn’t help himself. We all knew how Saul objected to any reminder that Raphael was his father. Hell, Saul wouldn’t even use the word “father,” but insisted on calling Raphael his “sire,” if he had to refer to him at all.

  Saul bared his teeth. “Don’t call me that!”

  Barbie reached over and put her hand on Saul’s leg. “Down, boy,” she said. “You know better than to let him get to you.”

  Sometimes, when Saul works up a head of steam, as it looked like he was doing now, it was really hard to rein him back in. Apparently, Barbie was having a good influence on him, though, because as soon as she spoke, he relaxed back into his chair and shook his head.

  “You’re right,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s not worth it.”

  I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing at the sulky, sullen look on Saul’s face. Neither Saul nor his host was a kid, but he looked like your stereotypical rebellious teen.

  Raphael was examining his fingernails with sudden fascination, his lowered head keeping his face in shadows. Sorry to say, I knew him too well to be fooled by his apparent apathy. It hurt him every time Saul denied him.

  So why the hell does he keep poking his pins in Saul, when he knows very well how Saul will react? I asked Lugh silently.

  Because when Saul strikes back, Raphael can think “Oh, poor me” and throw himself a pity party, Lugh responded. Sometimes, I think he’s really changed. Then he pulls something like this, and I realize he’s still the same old Raphael.

  I wasn’t sure I agreed with Lugh on this point. Yeah, Raphael was a pro at feeling sorry for himself, but it seemed to me he had … matured since I’d first met him. Specifically, I remembered a time when Lugh had taken over my body to confront Raphael. I’d thought he just meant to have a conversation, but it had quickly turned into a fight. But although Lugh and Raphael were about evenly matched in power, Raphael had refused to fight back, willing to let Lugh send him back to the Demon Realm and Dougal’s tender mercies rather than risk a fight that could get Lugh killed.

  Do you really think the old Raphael would have made the same decision? I asked Lugh, trying not to think about how ironic it was for me to be defending Raphael, whom I loathed.

  Perhaps not, Lugh conceded, then fell silent.

  “Another trip to The Seven Deadlies, then,” Adam said, bringing us back on topic.

  Barbie let out an unhappy sigh. “I guess so.”

  “You don’t have to be the bait,” I told her. “I’m sure someone else can do it.” Not that anyone seemed in any rush to volunteer.

  “No, it should be me,” she said. “This is the kind of stuff I do for a living.” She frowned. “Well, not really, but …” She huffed. “You know what I mean.”

  And I did. Barbie had once described the biggest part of her job as “convincing people to tell me things they’re not supposed to tell me,” with an obvious corollary of “convincing people to do things they’re not supposed to do.” She was the right person for the job, even though she didn’t like it.

  “I guess that means we’re all settled,” Adam said. “The club isn’t open on Sundays, so let’s head out there tomorrow night.”

  “Whatever you say, coach,” I said, feeling tired now that we were winding down and I could let myself relax a bit. I don’t function well on less-than-optimal sleep.

  There was a little more chitchat after that, but nothing of great importance, and no one came to blows over anything. As the council members trickled out my front door, I noticed that Brian was hanging back. I couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand, he and I really needed to talk. On the other hand, this wasn’t the kind of talk we should have while I was tired and grumpy.

  When Brian and I were finally alone in the apartment, he turned to me. I held up a hand to forestall whatever he’d been about to say.

  “Can it wait until I’ve made a fresh pot of coffee?”

  Dominic had brought me some fabulous, extra-strong Italian roast that I was dying to try. He’d probably meant me to make it for the meeting, but I wasn’t about to share my treasure with seven other people.

  Brian gave me one of his boyish grins. “It can wait. I know better than to get between you and your coffee.”

  “Smart-ass,” I replied, but I meant it affectionately.

  Brian followed me into the kitchen and watched in silence as I scooped out fragrant coffee and filled the pot with water. I set the pot to brew, then turned and leaned my butt against the counter, examining the man I loved, trying to get a feel for what he was thinking. But, unlike me, Brian was a pro at hiding his thoughts.

  “Okay,” I said as the coffeepot began to gurgle. “What’s up?”

  His eyebrows arched. “I need an excuse to want to talk to my girlfriend?”

  “Of course not,” I answered irritably. “But considering how we left things, I don’t think you’re here to make small talk.”

  Brian reached into the cabinet beside my head and got out a coffee mug. Without another word, he pulled the carafe from the coffee maker. A couple drops of coffee hissed against the hot plate, but I’d never abide a coffee maker that made you wait until the pot was done before you could get a cup, so there
wasn’t much of a mess. There was only enough coffee in the pot for about a third of a cup, but Brian poured it into a mug and handed the mug to me before putting the carafe back.

  “For medicinal purposes,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes at him, but that didn’t stop me from taking a cautious sip from my mug. I managed to burn my tongue despite my caution, but it was worth it for the rich, dark flavor. It was a shame to dilute that with cream and sugar, but I only drink coffee black if I have no choice. I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent, letting the comfortable familiarity of the coffee ritual calm me.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw that Brian had gotten the half-and-half out of the fridge and put the sugar bowl in front of me. Ah, the joys of being predictable. But it was nice to be able to doctor my coffee so I could pretend not to notice how intently Brian was watching me.

  “I had an idea during today’s meeting,” he said. “I want to run it by you, but I don’t want you to answer right away. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

  Uh-oh. I didn’t like the sound of this. I tore my attention away from the coffee and glanced at him cautiously. “Is this one of those ideas that requires me to put down breakable objects before you present it?” I asked, holding up the coffee mug for display.

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not sure. Why don’t you put it down just in case?”

  I made a face at him, but put the coffee mug down. I had no clue what he was about to say, and that made me nervous.

  “Okay,” I said, bracing myself. “Lay it on me.”

  “Again, remember that I don’t want you to answer me now. I just want you to keep it in the back of your mind.”

  I nodded and made a “keep talking” gesture.

  “It occurred to me that we’re probably past the point where it’s necessary to keep Lugh hidden behind your human aura.”

  Because of my unique relationship with Lugh, no one examining my aura could tell I was possessed, as long as I was the one driving my body. When Lugh took control, I did show up on the radar as possessed, but that happened so rarely it hadn’t been an issue. This had made my body the perfect hiding place for Lugh when Raphael first tricked me into calling him to the Mortal Plain.

  It wasn’t hard to see where Brian was going with this, and I immediately bristled. “You want me to pass Lugh off to some other host?” I had so many objections to this idea I couldn’t even figure out which one to lob out first.

  Brian held up his hands. “Let me finish before you bite my head off.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, my chest feeling tight and achy. I didn’t have to hear him out to see the danger signs. Brian had thought about what life would be like continuing to date me with his new understanding of just how present Lugh really was, and he wasn’t able to accept it.

  I was so stunned and upset by the implications that I couldn’t think of anything to say. Brian took that as a sign it was safe for him to keep talking.

  “When you were first hosting Lugh, it was pretty much just the two of you against the world, and secrecy was your best weapon. But now … Now Lugh has the council and powerful demon allies. Plus, Dougal doesn’t seem to be actively hunting him.”

  “And just who would you ‘volunteer’ to be Lugh’s new host?” I asked through clenched teeth. “Not that I’m conceding your point, you understand. And if you say Andy, I’m going to …” I couldn’t think of a creative enough threat. “Let’s just say it won’t be pretty.”

  Brian gave me an affronted look. “I’m not a complete moron. I’d never suggest you should give him to Andy, even if I thought Andy was willing to host him.”

  “Then who?”

  “If all goes as planned, tomorrow night, you’ll be kicking a demon out of an unwilling host. Who might not be in good shape when the demon’s gone. And who we’ve already determined is unlikely to have friends and family who would be distressed—or even notice—if he or she disappears.”

  My jaw dropped, and I stared at Brian in utter shock. “You want me to transfer Lugh to an unwilling host who, I’ll remind you, might recover even if he’s catatonic after the exorcism?” I tried to keep my voice down, without success.

  Never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed he’d propose something so patently immoral. In the past, I’d always seen him as a model citizen, law-abiding and ethical almost to a fault. True, I’d found out that I’d put him on a bit of a pedestal, but still …

  Brian wouldn’t meet my eyes. “You could always have Lugh transfer temporarily, and Lugh could tell you whether he thought there was any chance of recovery. Besides, for all we know, the host will be brain-dead, not just catatonic.”

  It was true that in about one percent of all cases, a host would be brain-dead after an exorcism, unable to function on even the basest level—like, say, breathing—without the demon in residence. I shook my head violently.

  “So you’ll be hoping the poor schmuck we exorcize tomorrow turns up brain-dead?” I wasn’t making any attempt to keep my voice down anymore. I was so pissed I wished I hadn’t put the coffee mug down. Brian had subtly nudged it out of my reach, and if I wanted to grab it and pitch it at the wall, I’d have to go through him to do it. Actually, that wasn’t sounding like such a bad idea.

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” I said with a shake of my head. “You’re supposed to be one of the good guys! The good guys don’t condone possessing unwilling hosts just because it’s convenient.”

  The look on his face hardened. “Oh, so it was okay to let Raphael take Tommy to save your brother the trouble of hosting him, but it’s not okay for you to give Lugh to a host who’s already damaged beyond repair?”

  I couldn’t help flinching. It was a low blow, but I probably deserved it. I was being a hypocrite. Yet even knowing that, I was still fighting to rein in my temper. “What’s happened to you, Brian? I never thought I’d hear you argue that two wrongs make a right.”

  Now he was getting pretty angry, too. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with being kidnapped and tortured.” I flinched again. “Or helping Lugh commit murder. Or letting the council talk a mentally challenged host into summoning a demon. You can’t expect me to do all this crap and not be changed by it.”

  I refrained from pointing out that this was one of the reasons I’d tried to break up with him when Lugh first came into my life. I didn’t want to drag him into the mud with me. But it seemed to have happened anyway.

  Brian visibly calmed himself, and when next he spoke, his voice was a lot softer. “Just think about it, okay?”

  “I don’t need to think about it. The answer is no, and the answer will stay no. I’m not palming Lugh off on some random stranger, even if the host is brain-dead after the exorcism. And if I did decide to do such a thing, it wouldn’t be because you can’t bear to be with me because I’m possessed.”

  Brian rolled his eyes. “I never said—”

  “You don’t have to say it. I’m getting the message loud and clear. And I think it’s time for you to go.”

  “Morgan—”

  I pushed past him and headed for the front door. He hurried after me and grabbed my arm. It didn’t improve my disposition.

  “Let go,” I said, and though I wasn’t shouting anymore, there was no doubt he heard the simmering fury in my voice. “We’re done with this subject, and if you don’t get out of here, I’m going to let Lugh take control so he can bodily remove you.”

  Brian let go of my arm and shook his head. “Fine, I’ll go. I’m sorry I offended your delicate sensibilities.”

  I jerked open the front door and pointed to the hallway. “Out!”

  His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Gee, that went well,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped out into the hallway.

  I slammed the door after him.

  eight

  IT DIDN’T OCCUR TO ME UNTIL ABOUT A HALF HOUR after Brian left, while I was still fuming, that Lugh hadn’t uttered a peep during my litt
le talk with Brian. True, Lugh didn’t always intervene in our arguments, but it seemed to me that that particular discussion was one he had a stake in. It wasn’t like him not to let his opinion be known.

  I waited a couple beats after this surprising realization, expecting Lugh to chime in to answer my thoughts, but he didn’t.

  “What’s with the silent treatment?” I asked him.

  To my surprise, he didn’t answer.

  “Lugh?” I prodded. “Hello?”

  Still nothing.

  When I’d first begun hosting Lugh, he’d only been able to communicate with me through dreams. Then he’d progressed to being able to talk to me when I was under a lot of stress and my mental barriers were weakened. Eventually, it had gotten to the point where my mental barriers were down altogether, and he talked to me whenever he felt like it. I’d gotten so used to it that this sudden silence was strangely unsettling.

  Had my barriers inexplicably gone back up? Did Lugh not feel like talking? Or was there something wrong? Alarm stabbed through me. I couldn’t imagine what could be wrong, but since everything about our relationship was outside the norm for demons and their hosts, who knew what could happen.

  “Come on, Lugh. You’re freaking me out here.”

  No answer. It had to be my mental barriers, I decided. Somehow, my fight with Brian had raised them again. My subconscious is so powerful it’s scary, and I’d never had much luck pushing it around.

  I cursed my subconscious now. I wanted to talk to Lugh, find out what he thought of Brian’s proposal. Did he think I was trying to sabotage my relationship with Brian—yet again—by being so completely obstinate about this? I didn’t think that myself, but then I’ve never been the best judge. Loving Brian as much as I did was arguably scarier for me than being the demon king’s human host. And there were times I’d been scared enough by the intensity of my love for him to do really stupid things.