Personal Demons (27 page)

She ran with it all, flying with it, across the marble floor, and when she got to the Accuser she didn't hesitate. She kept running, right into him, his flesh collapsing around her with a sickening squelch.

Her own memories flooded back, bending her backwards with the pain of them. Her disappointments, the things she'd seen and done, the loneliness…and then something else, something clean and pure that was love, and happiness, and pride in her accomplishments. The soft blue of Tera's new friendship, the green of Brian's respect, even the blazing black-edged orange of Greyson's desire and companionship. They wiped away the shame and sadness, not erasing it completely but making it manageable. She shouted in triumph, dug her fingers into the slime-covered flesh around her, and
read
.

H
e was older than humans, older than time. She saw dinosaurs and crawling, filthy slug-things. She saw Cro-Magnons and prehistoric animals, chanting Druids, people growing and changing. Occasionally they challenged him, but they never won. He slaughtered and licked them clean of blood, danced in the flames as their bodies burned, and cried out in triumphant glee. Their despair filled him, went to his head like fine wine. Megan tasted it with him,
was
him, and threw her head back in delight.

The images changed, grew. Something slithered through Megan's mind, a feeling more than a vision. She grabbed it before it got away, saw what it held, and turned it on him.

That was it. That was how she'd done it. And she could do it again.

In the very center of his body, by the foul beating mass of his heart, was the psychic strand binding him to the personal demons. She'd put it there. When Harlan Trooper died, when the Accuser turned back to her, she'd found Harlan's demons and her own demon and used them as shields, flinging them in his path, but it had backfired. He'd sucked them into himself, absorbed them, and in desperation she'd found something to use against him, something she hadn't realized she had.

Her power, swirling and spinning in the air around her, created that cord. It was sixteen-year-old Megan bound in there, Megan and the Yezer Ha-Ra, and she grabbed hold of it with her mind and pulled. The bit of her younger self trapped in the Accuser's innards screamed, holding on to his heart. All of her anger, her fear and alienation, washed over Megan.

Tears stung her eyes. All that pain…how unhappy she'd been. It hadn't disappeared. It had changed, turned inward, locked itself behind the door. But it never left and all the Accuser kept was an echo.

Her raw throat burned as she gave a final mighty wrench of the cord. The last piece of her young self disappeared, her cries lost in the Accuser's roar as Megan grabbed his heart in her transparent hands and squeezed, feeling it squelch and explode in her fingers.

The cord wrapped itself around her, pulling her out of the shell of the Accuser's body as it collapsed. Megan stumbled and fell, her skin slick with blood.

The brothers knelt on the floor about twenty feet away. Megan hauled herself to her feet and ran towards them, her blood-soaked feet gliding across the marble floor with a grace her physical form never seemed to manage, knowing without being sure how that without the Accuser there to power it she would die.

She pushed between Malleus and Spud and knelt beside her still-warm body, patting it, trying to move it somehow. Trying to ignore the very strange sensation of looking at herself in this manner.

Maleficarum's voice soared over her terror, over the whole room, raised in song. It was beautiful but she barely heard it. How would she get back in? Was she dead, or traveling astrally, or what? Tears of panic ran down her cheeks. She tried touching her own hand, placing her head on her chest. It didn't work. “Come on!” she screamed, pounding her chest with her fists.

Whether it was her scream, the pounding, or even Maleficarum's song she didn't know, but the thin red line that brought her back into the room reappeared, blazed, and engulfed her. The last thing she saw before everything went red was Brian Stone running into the room, followed by Tera Green and an army of figures swathed in black robes.

 

S
OMETHING SLAMMED
into her, deep inside her chest. Megan gasped and arched her back, it hurt, oh whatever it was hurt, she pushed against it but it burned, and she wanted to pull away but she couldn't…

“Do it again!”

Through the panicky haze of receding pain, she heard someone yelling. It sounded so familiar. She knew that voice.

“I don't think this is working!”

“God damn it, Brian, do it again or I will rip your fucking head off with my bare goddamn hands, do you—”

More pain. Megan screamed. She pushed again, pushed against whatever it was grabbing her and yanking her swirling into dark agony, and suddenly she was in her body again, moving, rolling away. Her eyes opened. The walls of the Solithell's dining room swam into her vision. Sweet air filled her lungs, and she gulped it down. Her muscles ached. Pain shrieked from her left hand, but she was alive. Fully, completely, solidly alive.

She only had a second to enjoy it before someone grabbed her, lifting her upper body from the floor and pressing her into a broad, flat, warm surface with crushing strength. She didn't need to catch a glimpse of his white face to know it was Greyson holding her.

His heart pounded beneath the solid muscle of his chest. It sounded wonderful.

Wait a minute. No, it didn't. Who did he think he was? He'd used her to try and overthrow Templeton Black. Why did he even care that someone as
mediocre
as herself was still alive?

“Is she okay?” Tera's voice, calm but with an undertone of fear.

“I think so.” Greyson pulled away from her, his hands trembling on her shoulders. “Are you okay? Meg, I have to tell you—”

Megan smiled. “I'm fine.” She raised her right hand and slapped him across the face with all the strength she had.

The sound of skin against skin echoed in the silence. Megan forced herself to a stand, a rather difficult maneuver without the use of her throbbing left hand, and brushed her right palm on her dirty skirt. “Now,” she said, looking at the destruction surrounding them, “what happened? Why are you guys here?”

Brian blinked. “You don't know?”

“If I knew, I wouldn't have asked.”
Did
she feel okay?

She felt as if she'd been given a shot of adrenaline. Shaky and weak, but buzzing and confident, too. Even the sight of Art Bellingham's crumpled, discarded body in the corner didn't shake her as much as she would have imagined it would.

“M'lady! M'lady!” The brothers' faces, wet with tears, shone like beacons in the dimly lit room. Malleus grabbed her hand and squeezed. A little too hard; she had to tighten her lips to avoid a grimace. “We was so worried, we thought sure you weren't comin' back, and we was so—”

“Mr. Black, he locked us up, we couldn't get out in time to help you—”

“Yeh, yeh.”

“And when we got up here, an' we saw—”

“Okay, okay.” She reached out with her free hand to pat each of them on the shoulder. “It's okay, guys. Thank you. You helped me find my body, that's what I really needed. You let me know somebody cared.”

“Well of course we cared, of course we do. And we're sorry we had to spy on you an' tell Mr. Black what you was sayin' in the park and all. We din't have no choice, y'see, he were—”

“It's okay, guys. Thanks.” She looked at Brian, not wanting to upset the brothers but eager to hear his story. “What happened, please?”

“Dante set it up. Last night, at the ball. He made me promise to come. And to call Tera before I did.”

“He told me about it on Thursday,” Tera said. “And I told them.” She gestured towards the black robes, two of whom now had a firm grip on Templeton Black.

They didn't need to hold him very tightly. He was bound at the wrists and ankles with shiny black rope.

“Why is he tied up?”

“He's being arrested. He tried to sacrifice a human to bring the Accuser back. It's a pretty big no-no.”

“Why try it, then?” Megan turned away from Black as the black robes led him away. Her skin prickled under his furious gaze, but she ignored it. So Greyson had his way after all. Black was gone. He'd managed to use her and get rid of her in one smooth move.

“Once it was done, nobody could prove it.” Tera shrugged. “And it would have been done, if—”

“If Megan hadn't managed to somehow overpower the Accuser,” Greyson interrupted. He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I assume, Megan, those little ones had something to do with your victory?”

Megan turned around. The personal demons lined the walls, watching. She nodded. “They helped me. Gave me some of their power, and brought me back here.”

“We didn't bring you back.” Rocturnus stepped forward. “You had a line. We just helped you use it.”

“I couldn't have done it without you.” She smiled at the gnarled little demon. “Thank you.”

Greyson scowled. “If we're all done with the mutual admiration, can we wrap this up? I'm rather tired.”

He did look tired. Deep circles shadowed his dark eyes, and the clothes covering his lean body were rumpled and smudged.

“I'm sorry,” Megan said. “Are we bothering you?”

“Not at all. I'm just going to sit down. Let me know when you're done.”

“You do that.” She refused to watch him walk away, turning instead back to Brian and Tera, staring at her with identical furrowed brows.

“Maybe we should all sit down,” Tera suggested. “And have something to eat or a drink or something.”

“The servants are all asleep,” Greyson said from the table.

“Then I suppose we'll just have to serve ourselves.” Tera took Megan's hand and started to lead her toward the table, but Spud stepped in the way and, before Megan could stop him, scooped her up and carried her to a seat next to Greyson. Megan shook her head and pointed opposite. She did not want to be so close to him. Tera busied herself with glasses and bottles and Brian sat next to Megan. Greyson stayed where he was with his arms folded across his chest and an empty glass in front of him.

Tera brought back drinks and handed them out. “Everybody gets wine,” she said. “I don't know what your preferences are.”

The red was fruity and spicy on her tongue, and warmth spread through her body as she swallowed. “Thank you.” She turned in Greyson's direction but didn't meet his eyes. “Where are the Fearbusters people?”

“We sent them home.” He didn't look at her, either, which was just as well. Megan didn't think she could stand to see his eyes again. “As soon as you were gone.”

“They're okay?”

He nodded.

“Good. I was worried about them. What happened?”

Greyson cleared his throat. “Temp made a deal. He thought if he handed you to the Accuser, he'd be able to control him. He was wrong. The Accuser had what he wanted—you—and he planned to use you. For what, I'm not sure, but I think we can bet it wouldn't have been pleasant.

“They argued for a few minutes. Then the Accuser got angry. He left your body and changed to his pure physical form, which you saw. He was about to kill Temp when you came back and did whatever it was you did to defeat him.”

“I used the personal demons' power.”

Rocturnus, sitting on the floor a few feet away under the watchful gaze of Malleus, Maleficarum, and Spud, cleared his throat. “It's your power now, Megan.”

“Excuse me?”

“Our power. It became yours, when you bound us to you.”

Megan finally broke the silence. “Say that again?”

“You bound us to you. When you released us from the Accuser. You held the string. We pulled you out of him, but you didn't let go. It was still wrapped around you when you re-entered your body and that man—” he pointed at Brian—“did the power transfer to bring you back to life. Besides, you promised us back when you bound us to the Accuser that one day you'd save us. Now we're yours.”

“But—but you can't be,” Megan said, spluttering.
Don't forget what you promised
ran through her head. That day in the shower, after the zombie attack. She'd been trying to remember it all. She just hadn't put the pieces together. “You're, I mean, you've been very nice to me and all, but you're demons. I'm human. And I'm a psychological counselor. My job is to fight you, to help people get rid of you.”

“You're not entirely human,” Greyson mumbled.

“What?”

He leaned back, looking at his hand holding the stem of his wineglass as if the words he was about to speak were written on it. “You're not entirely human. The Accuser left some demon in you the first time you met him. And you kind of…grew over it, I guess is the best description. You're not demon, but you
have
demon, if that makes sense. That's why you could bind them to you.”

“Okay, either I haven't had enough to drink or you've had way too much,” Megan said. “Or is this another fun little game of yours? Another round of ‘let's laugh at Megan'?”

“Are you going to use your head and listen to me, or are you going to keep up with this petty revenge?”

“You mean my mediocre mind?”

“Fucking—fuck!” Greyson stood up and threw his glass across the room. It shattered on the wall in an explosion of crystal shards, leaving a purplish stain on the damask wallpaper as the wine ran down. The others gasped. He glared at them, his face dull red.

“It's your vocabulary that impresses me most,” Megan said.

Greyson shot her a dirty look and strode out of the room, slamming the heavy door behind him.

“Megan, don't you think you're being a bit hard on him?” Tera asked.

“I don't think I'm being hard enough,” Megan snapped. “After what he did to me—”

“What, save your life?” Brian leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table. He still looked pale. “Megan, you do know he saved your life, don't you? You felt his energy bring you back?”

Greyson's energy. Greyson's line.

He'd kissed her before they entered the room, shoved his power into her body. Not to give her a boost, but to bind her to him somehow. To create the line.

She'd seen the flames. She'd seen the sparks die out right before she appeared in the personal demon's hall.

His energy sent her there, his line brought her back. She swallowed. “Brian. What did he tell you about tonight? How did he get you to come?”