The Devil You Know (2 page)

I had to admit, that was pretty strange. But I also had a sneaking suspicion where this was going, and I intended to nip it in the bud. “If you think I’m going to question my mom about it, you can forget it.”

“Now, Morgan—”

“No!” I snapped. “I do everything I can to avoid her, even in supposedly pleasant situations. No way in hell am I asking her about a rape she never bothered to tell me about.”

I was too agitated to sit still, so I stood up and paced. I wanted to pull the blanket of denial up over my head again. After all the shit I’d been through, I needed more time, damn it! Bad enough to have to deal with royal intrigue and assassins and the fate of the human race—which, according to Lugh, could turn seriously ugly if Dougal managed to grab the throne—but to have to deal with my family issues on top of all that…

Nope, not ready for it.

Dominic’s a pretty smart guy, and his instincts are good. He took one look at my face, then swallowed whatever argument he’d been about to make.

“All right,” he said, standing. “I can certainly understand your position. Adam will keep poking around the old files. He’ll let you know if he finds anything important.”

I’m not the most polite person under the best of circumstances, which these weren’t, so I couldn’t manage much better than a curt nod of acceptance. Still, I did walk him to the door, which I felt was rather decent of me.

“If you ever need someone to talk to,” he said before he left, “give me a call. I’m a good listener.”

I couldn’t help a little snort of laughter. Dom looked hurt.

“Nothing personal,” I hastened to assure him. “I’m sure you’re a
great
listener. But I’m a lousy talker.” Which I bet he knew already. He hadn’t known me all that long, but he was far too sensitive not to have picked that up.

Dominic smiled faintly. “All right. But the offer stays open.”

“Thanks,” I said, and then there was nothing else to say.

After Dominic left, the apartment seemed ominously empty and quiet. Just the kind of atmosphere to encourage a round of brooding melancholy and self-pity. I decided hanging around would be a bad idea, so I stuffed my Taser in my purse and headed out.

Tasers are one of the few weapons that actually work against demons. The electricity fucks up their ability to control the host body and leaves them essentially helpless. Normal weapons, like guns, might be able to kill the host, but the demon would just return to the Demon Realm. And if it ever managed to get back to the Mortal Plain, you’d be high on its shit list.

It used to be that I rarely carried my Taser when I went out. By the time I’m called in to do an exorcism, the demon has been well and truly contained and is no threat to me. Now, with Dougal’s unknown minions wanting to kill me, I wouldn’t go to the lobby to pick up my mail without the Taser on my person.

I didn’t actually have a plan for where I wanted to go, but as I walked the streets of Philadelphia, trying not to brood or even
think,
I found myself heading toward The Healing Circle. That’s the hospital-cum-nursing home where my brother currently resides. The demon Raphael abandoned my brother’s body after Adam shot him. My brother managed to survive the gunshot wound, but as is usually the case when a host loses his demon, his mind didn’t survive. He’s in a state of catatonia, probably permanently.

For many years, I’d despised Andrew as much as I’d despised the rest of my family. But in the horrible moment when Adam shot him, I’d realized that, despite all our troubles, I still loved him. And so, even when I was otherwise trying to keep my head firmly buried in the sand, I made sure to visit Andrew on a regular basis. Usually, I tried to time my visits to miss my other family members. Visiting spur of the moment like this was dangerous, but I guess after the disturbing news I felt the need to connect to the one family member I felt comfortable with.

The fact that I could talk to Andrew without him talking back might also have been a plus.

The gods decided to have mercy on me—for once!—and Andrew had no visitors when I arrived. My parents were well-off enough to afford a private room—only the best for their favored son—so I closed the door behind me and pulled up a chair.

Naturally, Andrew had lost a lost of weight since he’d gone catatonic. He was too tall and big-boned to look frail, but he certainly didn’t look like the strong and powerful big brother I’d once known.

“Hi, Andy,” I said, reaching out to clasp his limp hand. My voice came out a bit raspy, and the stinging in my eyes said I was on the verge of tears. I blinked until they went away.

Andy didn’t move or blink. His eyes were open, but they stared fixedly ahead. I swallowed hard. Those few demon hosts who’d recovered after being in this state said they were conscious and aware during their catatonia, even though they couldn’t move or speak. Knowing that, I always tried to talk to him, keep him up-to-date on the news, maybe even read to him. Anything to keep his mind from atrophying inside his useless husk of a body.

But tonight, my own mind was in too much turmoil to manage banter, and I didn’t want to tell him what I’d learned from Dominic. There was always the possibility he knew, but I kind of doubted it. He would have been only three years old when the rape happened—too young to understand what was going on around him, even if he had heard whatever discussions my parents must have had as they decided to keep me.

Instead, I just sat there holding his hand. It felt strangely peaceful, and I let my eyes slide shut.

I guess I hadn’t been getting all that much sleep lately. Either that, or the stress of Dominic’s revelation had sapped the last vestiges of my energy.

Whatever the reason, I must have drifted off, because when I next opened my eyes, I wasn’t in my brother’s room anymore.

When I’d first met Lugh in my dreams, his control of even my unconscious mind had been tenuous at best. I’d met him in a barren white room with no doors or windows. As his control had gotten better, the room had gotten homier.

He’d embellished it since the last time I’d been here, adding a simple geometric rug under the coffee table and a frothy potted fern on a plant stand between the sofa and love seat. I gave these details about a half-second’s attention before I gave in to the inevitable and let my gaze rest on Lugh.

Dominic is nice to look at. Lugh is every woman’s sexual fantasy come to life. His skin is a beautiful burnished bronze, his hair is a silky, shiny jet black and reaches to his shoulder blades when unbound, and his eyes…They’re an intense shade of dark amber, and there always seems to be a hint of light glowing behind them. And let’s not even talk about his incredible body!

Of course, demons are actually incorporeal, so that body was nothing but an illusion—and since Lugh has access to all my deepest thoughts and feelings, he knows exactly what buttons to push to make my mouth water. But knowing that doesn’t ever seem to stop me from drooling when I see him.

He was sitting on the middle seat of the sofa, his long arms stretched out along the back, his ankle resting on his knee as he watched me ogle him. His sensuous lips curved into a hint of a smile. I made an unladylike grunting sound and plopped into the love seat. I didn’t particularly want to talk to my own personal demon right this moment, but it would take me a while to close my mental doors to him. So…

“Long time no see,” I said, fighting the urge to cross my arms over my chest in my trademark defensive gesture.

“I’ve been trying to give you some space,” he answered.

His low, rumbling voice always seemed to vibrate through my nerves. Goose bumps rose on my arms at the sound of it, and I had to fight a shiver.

“Very considerate of you.” My voice sounded too breathy for the attempt at sarcasm.

“But in light of this evening’s news,” he continued, “I think it’s time for us to do some investigation.”

I suppressed a groan. “Let Adam do all the investigating he wants! That’s not my area of expertise, and I’d rather spend time with my gynecologist than my mom.” I tried a little harder to close my mental doors.

“There’s only so long you can go on pretending none of this is happening. You know Dougal’s people have been up to no good while they’ve walked the Mortal Plain, and you know the fate of your entire race may lie in the balance.”

“Thanks for reminding me!” I snapped, allowing another wave of self-pity to break over me. “I might have forgotten all about it otherwise.”

He sighed quietly. “I can apologize again for dragging you into this against your will, but my apologies don’t seem to do either one of us any good. The only chance you have of returning to your ‘normal’ life is to help me defeat Dougal. Until then, you’ll never know when one of his supporters might find out you’re hosting me and try to kill you.”

His words stung. “Do you really think the only reason I might help you is to save my own ass?”

“Of course not,” he answered with reassuring promptness. “I just thought the reminder might hurry you up a bit.”

I was working my way up to a smart-ass reply when I finally managed to shove those mental doors closed and wake up. I entertained a few less-than-complimentary thoughts about Lugh for a moment before I remembered where I was.

My hand was still clasped in Andy’s. With a start, I realized that his fingers were actually curled around mine instead of lying limply in my grip. A shot of adrenaline burst through me, and I sat up abruptly and opened my eyes.

Andy’s head was turned toward me, and when our eyes met, I could see the recognition and intelligence in his gaze. Without a moment’s warning, I burst into tears and bowed my head over our clasped hands.

Sniffling like a baby, I pulled myself together as best I could and met his gaze once more.

“How ya doin’, bro?” I asked.

He managed a faint smile. “Better than about thirty minutes ago,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. His eyes closed for a moment, and worry stabbed through me.

“Andy?”

He opened his eyes again, and I noticed for the first time the haunted expression in them. He didn’t speak, and I couldn’t think of anything to say.

I hadn’t spoken to Andy, the
real
Andy, for ten years. The last time I’d spoken to him, I’d let him know in no uncertain terms that I hated his guts for volunteering to host a demon. For years, I’d believed that. Not until Adam shot him had I realized how untrue those words had been.

Thinking about that awful moment reminded me of some problems I’d rather have ignored. Like the explanation we’d given the police for what had happened to Andy, which had been a complete work of fiction. God, I hoped he was willing to go along with the story, even though it painted his demon, Raphael, in the worst possible light.

How much did he know? I’d gotten the impression Raphael had made a habit of blocking Andy out to keep him from overhearing state secrets. Did Andy remember anything about the confrontation that led to his temporary death? Perhaps not. Perhaps all he knew was the official story, which he had surely overheard multiple times during his stay here.

But I wasn’t about to bring that up now. Maybe I couldn’t think of anything to say to my brother after his ten-year absence from my life, but I wasn’t going to dump problems on him to break the awkwardness. At least, not yet.

“Thanks for coming to visit,” Andy said, his voice weak and sickly. “I always knew you were here, even if I couldn’t talk.”

I gave his hand a squeeze. “Hey, in spite of our differences, you’re still my big brother.”

He smiled, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “You told Raphael I was dead as far as you were concerned.”

I winced and looked away. “I know.” Remembering some of the other things I’d said to Raphael, I squirmed with guilt. I’d been very, very hard on Andy.

“It’s okay,” he assured me. “Raphael was a real son of a bitch, and I’m the one who brought him into your life.”

I raised my head, surprised at the bitterness in his voice. The only other demon host I knew who’d lost his demon and was still functional—Dominic—had been so attached to his demon that I’d expected Andy to be the same way. Although I had to admit, I had a hard time imagining anyone being attached to Raphael.

“So you’re not sorry he’s gone?” I asked.

He shuddered. “No. Adam did me a real favor by helping me get rid of him.” Well, that answered the question of whether he knew what had really happened.

His jaw clenched, and he let go of my hand. He shifted position in the bed, then winced. “God, I feel weak as a newborn. And I’m more than ready to lose the diaper. Could you go let the nurses know I’m back?”

I didn’t want to leave his side, especially with all the questions and regrets that swarmed me, but I knew if I’d been in his position, I’d be in a hurry to regain my dignity, too. I wanted to hug him, or kiss him, or even ruffle his hair, but his body language didn’t invite affection.

“I’ll be right back,” I told him around the lump in my throat. He merely nodded, not looking at me. I didn’t know if he was angry at me, or at Raphael, or at Lugh, or just at the situation in general. But there’d be time to talk about that later.

Knees feeling a bit wobbly, I went to the nurses’ station and gave them the good news. Looking genuinely delighted, a nurse and an orderly hurried to his room, telling me to stay put while they helped Andy get cleaned up and dressed.

“Here,” the remaining nurse at the station said, pushing a phone toward me. “I’ll let you be the one to give your parents the good news.”

I made a face. I didn’t want to talk to my parents under ordinary circumstances. After what I’d learned this afternoon, I wanted to even less. However, it would probably take more energy than I had to talk the nurse into taking the phone back, so I gritted my teeth and made the call.

Naturally, my mother was beside herself with glee, and I knew she and my dad would be at the hospital as soon as humanly possible. I’d have given everything I owned to get the hell out of there before they made their grand entrance, but I couldn’t walk out on Andy like that. Not after he’d been gone for so long.

I took a seat in the depressing waiting area and tried not to chew my lip raw. Eventually, the nurse came to get me, beaming. “You can go back into the room now,” she informed me, and I tried to smile at her.

Don’t get me wrong—I was thrilled that Andy had awakened. But I was such an emotional mess myself that I couldn’t manage the giddy excitement I thought I should be feeling. Andy and I had been estranged, at best, when he’d gone to the ceremony that drew Raphael into the Mortal Plain, and now he’d been dormant inside his own body for ten long years. The man who awaited me in that room was a stranger.

I stood in the doorway a moment, struggling against my cowardly impulse to flee. Then, with a deep breath, I pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside.

Dressed in blue jeans and a black T-shirt that hung loosely on his gaunt frame, he sat in a wheelchair, eyes fixed on his hands, which were clenched in his lap. He didn’t seem to notice me entering the room.

“Andy?” I asked hesitantly. “You okay?”

He blinked and looked up at me. “Yeah. Fine.” He tried a smile, but it was a sorry effort. “Apparently, it’s going to take me some time to regain my strength,” he said. His voice still sounded weak and raspy, but then his vocal cords were out of practice. “It was all I could do to stand up long enough for them to get the pants on.”

I bit my lip. “I’m sorry.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What for?”

I sighed. “Everything?”

He laughed briefly. “That certainly covers all the bases.”

The awkward silence threatened to return, and I rushed to fill it. “Mom and Dad are on their way.”

To my surprise, he grimaced. He and my folks had always gotten along famously, what with him being the golden boy and all.

He saw my surprise and shook his head. “They’re going to expect me to exonerate Raphael, and obviously I can’t do that.”

As far as everyone except myself, Adam, and Dominic knew, Raphael had gone rogue, kidnapping and torturing my boyfriend to punish me for the bad blood between us. My parents had always refused to believe that. They loved Raphael as if
he
were their true son, not Andy.

“How much do you remember?” I asked.

He closed his eyes. “Exactly as much as Raphael wanted me to. He made sure I knew the party line before he left me. Just in case I’d ever be a functional human being again.” He sighed. “How much do you want to bet Mom and Dad are going to try to convince me that there must be some kind of misunderstanding?”

I frowned. “I know they won’t be happy, but surely once you confirm the story, they’ll have to believe it.”

He snorted. “You’re underestimating the power of their denial. They might not argue with me, but I doubt they’ll really believe me.”

Of course, since the story wasn’t true, it was hard to blame my parents too much for not believing it. But no worries—there were plenty of other things I could blame them for.

I longed to ask Andy if he knew anything about my real father and the circumstances of my birth, but I knew it was too early for that. I needed to give him time to recuperate, to readjust to life as an independent human being. So I’d wait until tomorrow to ask.

I was once again struggling against my urge to run away when I heard the excited babble of my parents’ voices and realized it was too late.

“You want to hide out in the bathroom until they’re gone?” Andy asked me, and for the first time since he’d awakened I saw a spark of life and humor in his eyes.

Sad to say, that offer actually tempted me. But I scraped up what maturity I could and stayed right where I was.

My mom came through the door first. She’s the kind of woman who won’t set foot outside her house until her face is meticulously painted to hide any hint of blemishes or wrinkles and her hair has been sprayed until it didn’t dare move even in a gale-force wind. She wields her iron with fanatical zeal, and even when she wears linen, you’ll rarely see a crease anywhere.

Tonight was no exception, though how she managed to look so perfect when she’d obviously rushed out of the house, I had no clue. Maybe she was really a demon-possessed mannequin. But I’m being uncharitable. So what else is new?

She put her hands over her mouth when she caught sight of Andy, stifling a sob as her eyes shimmered with tears. Then she walked past me without even a sidelong glance and reached out her hand toward my brother. Andy took the offered hand and forced a smile. My mother couldn’t speak through her silent tears, and for that I was grateful.

My dad wouldn’t know a tender emotion if it bit him in the ass. He stepped through the doorway and gave me a brief nod, then moved to stand by Andy’s wheelchair, looking like being reunited with formerly catatonic sons was an everyday occurrence for him. I wondered if anyone would notice if I just slipped out the door.

“How are you feeling, son?” my dad asked.

“Much better,” Andy said. He tried to withdraw his hand from my mother’s grasp, but she didn’t let go.

“We’re so grateful to have you back,” my mom said, her voice quavering. “And now you can tell us what
really
happened on the night you were shot.”

Andy and I shared a look. Now as you might have gathered, there’s no love lost between me and my mom, but even
I
had a hard time believing she could be this callous. My mouth went on autopilot.

“You haven’t talked to the real Andy in ten years, he’s been catatonic for weeks, and the first thing you say to him is how grateful you are that he can tell you R—” I stopped myself before Raphael’s name left my lips. Demons adopt their hosts’ names when they walk the Mortal Plain, and they rarely divulged their own names. In all likelihood, my parents didn’t know the name of the demon who had possessed Andy, and we were all better off if it stayed that way. “Raphael” might not be his True Name, but there were probably others who knew that was the king’s brother’s name.

I cleared my throat, trying to disguise the slip as a cough. “Hoping he can tell you his demon isn’t the bastard everyone else has said?”

My mother’s back stiffened, and my dad glared at me.

“Morgan,” he said, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, then I’d suggest you not say anything at all.”

What was I, five? My hackles rose even higher. “I might say the same of the two of you! Are you even marginally happy to see Andy restored, or is that goddamn demon the only thing you care about?”

My dad’s glare became even more icy. “Watch your language.”

Unbelievable! I’d always thought of Andy as their favored son. I’d known it was because he’d agreed to host a demon, but I didn’t realize until this moment how little regard they actually had for him as a real person.

“Let’s not argue, okay?” Andy said weakly. “I don’t have the strength for it.”

I immediately felt like shit. Yeah, I thought my mom was a callous bitch, but surely I had enough self-control to keep my opinion to myself for a few minutes while he and my parents got reacquainted.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I was apologizing to Andy, but my parents seemed to think the apology encompassed them as well, and I saw no reason to disillusion them. My dad turned away without a word, and my mom had never looked my way in the first place.

“Of course we’re very glad to see you recovered,” my mom assured Andy. “I can’t imagine what these last few weeks must have been like for you.” She sniffled daintily, and Andy forced another smile.

“It’s been rough,” he admitted, “but that’s over.”

My mom finally let go of his hand and pulled up a chair, my dad standing behind her like some kind of bodyguard. Surely he was feeling
something
—other than his distaste for me, that is—but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. He’s one of those super-uptight men who thinks showing emotion is girly. I doubt a tear had dared leak from his eye since well before puberty.

Leaning forward slightly in her chair with her earnestness, my mom asked, “So tell us what happened.”

Once again, Andy and I shared a look, but this time I managed to bite my tongue and let him talk. He shook his head and met my mother’s gaze.

“I’m really sorry, Mom, but I’m afraid you already know the truth. My demon went rogue, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.” He shuddered visibly, and my mom sat back in her chair looking dumbstruck.

“How can that be?” she whispered, eyes wide and incredulous.

Andy shrugged. “Not all demons are the same. I just happened to draw one of the bad ones.”

My mom didn’t say anything, but anyone with half a brain could see she wasn’t convinced. I really don’t get her. She
has
to know that there are bad demons out there. Even with the thickest, rosiest-colored glasses imaginable, she had to have seen reports of rogues (demons who commit violent crimes) and illegals (demons who possess unwilling hosts). Why was it so impossible for her to imagine Andy getting saddled with one?