Speak of the Devil (30 page)

Andy and Raphael shared some angry, hostile words—though I couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. Then the front door slammed. My aching head loved that.

Raphael, shaking his head, was back in my room moments later. I figured my raised eyebrows were enough to convey my slew of questions.

“Everyone’s treating Andrew with kid gloves,” he said. “I prefer the brass knuckles approach. I went to his apartment to drag him over here for a visit. He had a few objections.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is that how he got the bruises?”

Raphael nodded, and there was a hint of a feral grin on his lips. “I pissed him off so much the moron took a swing at me. I think he hurt his hand more than he hurt my face.”

“And he got the shiner when he tried to head-butt you?” I growled as I glared at Raphael, hating the thought that he’d hurt my brother yet again.

Raphael shrugged. “So I hit him back. He had it coming.”

I swallowed the next words that wanted to come out of my mouth, because really, what was the point with Raphael? “What about the bruises around his neck?”

“I told him if he was really ready to check out on life, I’d be happy to put him out of his misery. Funny how being unable to breathe can make someone decide life is worth living.”

I could do nothing but gape at him.

“It’s not going to fix what’s wrong with him,” Raphael continued, “but at least I proved to him that he does, indeed, want to live.” He grinned savagely, and my headache spiked. “Just think of it as the demon equivalent of tough love.”

Someday, I was going to have to let Lugh take control so we could beat the crap out of Raphael. It might almost be worth the pain and nausea that followed.

“Just get out,” I said, sinking back down into my bed, hoping to escape into sleep. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a laugh, slipping out the door before I had a chance to respond.

When I woke up on day four of my misery, I felt a little stronger. I was bold enough to try sipping some orange juice, and I even dragged myself out of bed for a while. My head still pounded, and my whole body was weak, no doubt in part because I hadn’t eaten anything in days. When the orange juice stayed down, Saul made me some dry toast. My body was starved enough for nourishment that it actually tasted good.

By lunchtime, I was eager to try a real meal, but Saul turned bossy on me and would only let me have broth with Saltines on the side. On the plus side, Dominic had made the broth, so it was rich and flavorful.

“So,” I said as I sat at the dining room table with Saul and spooned up some broth, “there was a lot of coming and going while I was, um, convalescing.”

Saul gave me a look that would have done Nurse Ratched proud. “Oh, is that what you call it?”

I’m sure I was a lousy patient, and if I’d been in Saul’s shoes I’d have been tempted to smother me with the pillow I’d continually clutched. Of course, I hadn’t
asked
Saul to play nursemaid.

I decided my best course was to move on without a retort. “Is there any news I need to know?”

“Not a whole lot that’s new. The charges against Raphael were dropped, surprise, surprise. He questioned Shae as soon as he got out, but she claims not to have heard anything from our friend, and he believes her. And your lawyer’s called every day, hoping you’d be well enough to speak to him.”

I frowned. I gathered he meant the attorney Brian had hired for me for the lawsuit, not the criminal attorney I’d had on call.

“If he were calling with good news—like, say, Maguire dropped the lawsuit—I presume he would have left a message,” I mused. Damn it, even though I
was now cleared of the murder charges, this whole mess wasn’t over.

“Yeah,” Saul agreed, “I didn’t get the feeling he was trying to reach you to celebrate.”

“Fabulous.” I’d really hoped that with Hillerman dead, Maguire would lose interest in the witch hunt.

“But perhaps not completely unexpected.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Abraham’s big scheme to get you convicted of murder has failed spectacularly. Based on what he’s done so far, does he seem like the type to just say ‘Oh, well’ and give up?”

“No,” I had to agree. “So he falls back on the original plan until he can think up something even more awful.”

“That may not be such a bad thing,” Saul said. “It’s highly unlikely that he knows everything we’ve figured out about him, so he’s probably not being overly cautious. If he’s keeping the lawsuit alive, then that means his host is probably someone close to Jordan Maguire Sr.”

“Unless Maguire just decided to continue the case on his own without anyone needing to nudge him.” But Laura Maguire had sounded awfully sure that Hillerman was the impetus behind the lawsuit.

“That’s possible, I suppose. But it wouldn’t hurt to see if we can find out where the burning need to sue is coming from now. Maybe if we do that, we’ll find Abraham.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll give Laura a call. She might be willing to let me know if there’s someone other than her father pushing the case.” I frowned. “Of course, even if it is Maguire, Abraham could have chosen
him
as his next host.”

Saul seemed to roll that one around in his head for a moment. “I think that’s unlikely. We’ve already seen
how careless he is with his hosts. If he takes Maguire then ends up forced to abandon him for one reason or another, the case will die. I’m sure he’d rather be on the periphery, where he can afford to move from host to host with ease.”

And wasn’t that just a cheerful thought? I was really looking forward to consigning the bastard to an eternity of imprisonment in the Demon Realm.

“So,” I said, trying to sound casual, “Barbie seems to be coming over a lot.” I glanced at Saul from under my lashes as I took a sip of soup.

His lips curled into a half smile. “Yeah,” he said, and his voice was dreamy.

“Did you warn her you’re on the rebound?”

The smile dimmed, and he didn’t answer.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, then shoved a cracker into my mouth to keep it occupied.

“I really like her,” Saul said quietly.

“I can tell. But speaking as someone who’s learned it the hard way, it’s hard to keep a relationship going for very long without honesty, and you can never be even close to honest with her.”

I’m not sure if I was trying to protect Barbie or Saul. Maybe both. It seemed to me someone was bound to get hurt.

“Maybe a little honesty wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

Yeah, she had him wrapped around her little finger all right. “Remember, she started out working for the bad guys. It would be stupid to trust her.”

“I guess I’m stupid, then.”

“Saul—”

“I haven’t told her any state secrets,” he interrupted. “I’m not going to jeopardize Lugh for a woman I’ve known for only a handful of days. But my gut tells me she’s trustworthy.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Are you sure that’s your
gut
talking?”

He gave me a dirty look. “Do you realize that when Hillerman died, her paycheck died with him? He was paying her in installments, and she only ever got the down payment. She’ll probably get the rest he owed her eventually, but not until the estate gets around to settling his debts, which could take months.”

“And this is relevant why?”

“Because she’s spending practically all her time doing this pro bono work for you and Adam, which means she doesn’t have time for her paying clients. I’d say that’s a good indicator that she’s dedicated to the cause.”

I shrugged. “And
I’d
say it’s a good indicator Adam is still threatening her with jail time if she doesn’t cooperate.”

Saul made an unpleasant growling sound in the back of his throat. He sneered, an expression I’d never seen on his face before. “You sound just like Raphael.”

I knew he meant that to be a dire insult, but it fell short of the mark. “Every once in a while, he says something I agree with. This is one of those times. Have your little fling if you must, but keep your mouth shut.”

He bristled. “I don’t take orders from you, and I certainly don’t need your permission to see Barbara.”

“But you do take orders from Lugh, don’t you?”

His hands were clenched into fists, and his face was dark with anger. “So is Lugh forbidding me to see her?”

“What about it, Lugh?” I asked, and Saul and I both fell silent as we waited for his answer.

I heard Lugh’s sigh in my head.
I think it best for
everyone if he refrains from romantic entanglements for the time being
. He sounded regretful, but firm.

I made a sympathetic face at Saul. “Sorry, but he agrees with me.”

Saul pushed away from the table. “I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that because you know I can’t check with Lugh directly.”

Unfortunately, I had no way to refute his claim. I didn’t dare let Lugh into control for even a moment. Just the
thought
made me shudder and made my still-aching head throb harder.

“You’re well enough to take care of your own damn self now,” he said. “Adam said he should have my new identity all squared away in a couple of days, so I’m going to go apartment hunting. See you later.”

He was still mad as hell—though possibly more because he knew he was in the wrong than anything else—but I doubted anything I said to him would make him feel any better. So I bit my tongue as Saul slammed the door behind him on his way out.

Some bodyguard
he
turned out to be
, I thought at Lugh, but he didn’t answer.

After Saul
left, I sat on the couch, meaning to call Laura. My head was a little woozy, so I decided I’d better do it lying down. I closed my eyes, intending to gather my strength for the ordeal of dialing.

When I woke up, I don’t know how much later, I wasn’t alone in the apartment anymore. Saul had returned with Adam and Dominic in tow. The three of them were talking quietly in the kitchen, huddled together. Trying not to wake me, I guess.

My head felt significantly better, so I tried slowly pushing myself up into a sitting position. I didn’t puke or pass out. It was almost enough to make me do a little happy dance. My stomach growled noisily, attracting the guys’ attention. Adam and Dom hurried to the living room to see how I was doing, while Saul, apparently still sulking, hung back.

“Feeling better, love?” Adam asked. I might almost have thought he cared about me, except he followed up with, “You look like death that still needs more warming over.”

Dom punched him in the arm. “Be nice.”

Adam made an innocent “Who, me?” face. Instead
of being irritated, I actually laughed. The easygoing affection between Adam and Dom always brought a smile to my face, though my smile wilted when I remembered the state of my own love life. I wasn’t ready to give up on Brian yet—even if he was ready to give up on me—but I didn’t have the mental energy to figure out how to solve that problem in the midst of all the others.

“Saul tells me you’ve had broth and crackers,” Dom said. “Do you think you’re up to some more solid food?”

My stomach howled its opinion.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dom said, then headed for the kitchen. “I’ll heat up some of that soup I brought for you.”

“Thanks,” I called after him.

Adam remained in the living room, slouching on the love seat nearby. “I talked to Laura Maguire about an hour ago,” he said.

“Oh.” So much for my hopes of making myself useful. “Did you find out anything that might be of interest?”

“Maybe. She wasn’t sure, but she thought Jessica Miles was starting to bug Maguire about the lawsuit. Something about how he shouldn’t abandon the suit, for his granddaughter’s sake.”

I remembered that Jordan Junior and Jessica had had a child together. Somehow, I’d forgotten all about that. “So you think Abraham has taken Jessica for his host?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. But based on her history, she’s not exactly an angel. She could just be pushing it because she somehow thinks she’ll get money out of it.”

“Well, it’s the best possibility we have, isn’t it?”

He huffed out a sigh. “I suppose.”

“So when I get a little better, Raphael and I will try to get our hands on Jessica and hope it goes better than when we went after David Keller.”

Adam didn’t look happy. “What if we’re wrong? What if Jessica’s just a bitch and Abraham is lurking somewhere else? You can’t exorcize a person who’s not possessed, and if you’ve kidnapped her …”

Why was nothing ever easy? “Do you have any better ideas?”

“I’m planning to go have a chat with her later today. Maybe she’ll let something slip that will make me positive Abraham’s in there.”

I frowned. “You can see auras, can’t you? More easily than an exorcist, I mean?” He’d examined my aura once in the early days, when I was first discovering that I was possessed.

“Yeah, but I need skin-to-skin contact and maybe thirty seconds or so of quiet concentration. I doubt Jessica would allow that even if she’s
not
possessed. But I’ll see what I can do.”