The Devil's Due (17 page)

I felt ridiculous speaking words of comfort to Adam. I felt even
more
ridiculous hugging him. I don’t want to know what shade of red my face turned, and I released him so fast I’m sure it would have looked comical to the outside observer. I didn’t have the nerve to look at him, and I told myself that if he laughed, I was going to deck him and damn the consequences. But he didn’t laugh.

“Thank you,” he said softly, but I still didn’t have the courage to face him. He patted me awkwardly on the shoulder, his own unpracticed gesture of support.

My face was still burning, my eyes still fixed on the floor, when I heard the door close behind him.

They hadn’t been wearing the dark glasses when Mrs. Schwartz had brought them into the building, but once she vouched for them, neither the doorman nor the front desk clerk paid any attention to them. They barely even remembered seeing them, and certainly couldn’t give a reliable description. Mrs. Schwartz couldn’t either, on account of her cataracts. There was footage from the security camera in the elevator, but the goons must have been aware of it, for they were careful not to show their faces.

Adam had informed me of these meager details by phone on his way home to Dom. He’d then made a point of telling me he’d call me tomorrow, which meant I’d be spending the rest of the night sweating the results of their conversation.

I thought I’d have a lot of trouble falling asleep that night. I was wrong. I suppose sometimes pain and stress can make you toss and turn all night, and sometimes it can just exhaust you until you can’t keep your eyes open.

I doubt I got more than a couple of minutes of blissful, uninterrupted sleep before I “awoke” to find myself in Lugh’s throne room. I was seated on a short, hard chair at the base of the dais, looking up at Lugh on his throne. I guessed that meant I was supposed to be some kind of supplicant, but I doubt he was surprised that I rejected the role.

I stood up and mounted the stairs to the dais. It was easier this time than last, since he hadn’t bothered to dress me in period costume.

He was dressed once more in crimson velvet with gold accents, though I don’t think it was exactly the same outfit, just a similar one. Naturally, he looked good enough to eat, even if the throne and crown were just a tad off-putting. He sat ramrod straight, his gorgeous, chiseled face set in an expression I couldn’t read. I didn’t think he was happy. But then, neither was I.

“You rang?” I asked when the silence seemed to stretch.

“You’re angry with me.”

I shrugged. Of
course
I was angry with him. He’d forced me into this lame-ass “compromise” of his. I don’t take well to being forced into anything. But he knew all that, so I didn’t bother to say it.

“And you’re angry with me,” I said instead. “I suppose that makes us even.” I frowned. “Well, as even as we’ll ever be.”

He shook his head. No doubt he was wishing Raphael had chosen anyone else on the planet to host him.

“I won’t explain myself to you again,” he said, and there was a distinctly sharp edge to his voice.

“Ditto.”

He reached up, I think meaning to run his hand through his hair in frustration. At the last moment, he remembered the crown and stopped himself.

“As I’m sure you know,” I continued, “I’m really, really tired. Is there some vital reason we absolutely have to talk tonight? Because if not, I’d rather get some sleep.”

He seemed to think about that one for a while before he answered. “Actually, it’s not you I need to talk to. It’s Raphael.”

I let out a sound that I’m afraid was something like a squeak of alarm as I realized what he meant. I then put as much concentration as I could into trying to close my mental doors.

“Relax, Morgan,” Lugh said in what was probably supposed to be a soothing croon, but I think both our tempers were too brittle for soothing or being soothed. “I’d like us to work together to make this happen. You see, I’ve had an idea as to how we can ease your way into letting me take control when necessary.”

I probably shouldn’t have let him disarm me so easily. Maybe my exhaustion was affecting my mental processes in my sleep as well as during my waking hours. But whatever the reason, I stopped trying to struggle free of him. I didn’t, however, drop my guard.

“All right. I’m listening. Let’s hear this idea of yours.”

He rose slowly from his throne, towering over me. He
always
towered over me, but those red velvet shoes of his had a considerable heel on them, and I felt like I was straining my neck to meet his gaze. Instinct urged me to take a step back from this dangerous creature, but I fought it. Sure, he already knew he was intimidating me, but that didn’t mean I had to show it.

“I’d like to try staying in control while you wake up,” he said. “Through sleep, you’ve already dropped your guard enough to let me take over. Getting you to drop that guard is the key, so perhaps if you try not to fight me, we’ll be able to make that transition to wakefulness together.”

I realized with a bit of a shock that when Lugh had first started communicating with me, my subconscious had consistently managed to kick him out without any effort on my part. Now, unless I made a concerted effort to fight my way free, he could remain in control of my sleep for however long he wanted. I couldn’t help thinking that wasn’t a good thing, that I was slowly giving him more and more power over me. And I decided I didn’t want to wake up and find myself the passenger in my own body.

I started trying once more to close my mental doors.

“Don’t!” Lugh ordered sharply, and the look on his face now was pure steel. “We
need
to do this, and what you want doesn’t really matter. If you keep fighting me, you’ll find yourself in the oubliette.”

I gasped in shock, the sick sense of horror and betrayal in my gut momentarily derailing my efforts to wrest control from him.

“You promised you would never do that again!” I said, though the sound came out more like a wail.

Lugh’s face remained grim. “And you promised you’d learn to let me take control when the situation warrants it. Keep your promise, and I’ll keep mine. It’s as simple as that.”

At that moment, I think I actually hated him. Not so long ago, I’d
liked
him, started thinking of him almost as a friend. A very sexy friend, whom I had the reluctant hots for. What had happened to
that
Lugh, who’d been kind and gentle, and who’d seemed to care about me?

I didn’t say any of that out loud, but Lugh answered me anyway.

“Nothing has changed, Morgan,” he said in a much softer voice. “And I do care about you. More than you know. It’s just …” He blew out a sigh, and the throne room dissolved around us.

I felt a moment of intense disorientation. When it passed, we were no longer in the intimidating throne room. Instead, we were back in the cozy living room where we’d often talked before. And Lugh was back to what I thought of as his usual self. Gone were the crown and the red and gold velvet, and back were the tight black leather pants tucked into knee-high black boots and the plain black T-shirt that clung so appealingly to the muscles of his chest.

“Whether I’m here, or whether I’m in the throne room,” he said, “I’m still a king. As a king, I have to do things that, as a man, I’d prefer not to do.” He sat beside me on the butter-soft leather sofa. He took one of my hands in both of his, and it didn’t immediately occur to me to object.

“Please, Morgan,” he asked, and his eyes echoed that plea. “Please honor your agreement with me. We will disagree at times, and we will argue. That is inevitable given who we are. But we should choose our battles carefully. And this isn’t something we should battle over.”

I had the distinct impression I was being shamelessly manipulated, but there was no doubt he was wearing me down. Perhaps I was just too tired to care anymore.

“All right,” I said grudgingly. “I’ll do my best to let you stay in control as I wake up.” I frowned. “Though to tell you the truth, I’m not sure how to wake myself up without fighting you. The two have always gone hand in hand before.”

“No, not always,” he said cryptically.

“Morgan?” said a voice, one that didn’t belong to Lugh, one that seemed strangely distant.

My eyes locked with Lugh’s. That sounded suspiciously like …

“Time to wake up,” the voice said again, a little less distant.

And this time, there was no doubting whose voice that was. It took every ounce of my willpower not to immediately start struggling against Lugh’s control as I realized what he must have done.

“Please don’t,” he said simply. “I had to talk to him, and I needed someone to wake you.”

I had a few colorful suggestions for him, but I didn’t fight his control. The living room dissolved, just as the throne room had. Only this time, when I opened my eyes, it was to look up into Andrew’s face as he gently shook my shoulder.

No, not Andrew. Raphael. And unfortunately, this time it wasn’t an illusion or a dream.

“Am I speaking to Morgan, or Lugh?” Raphael asked.

“Lugh. At least for the moment.”

There was a chair in the far corner of my bedroom. It was too heavy to move easily, but that didn’t stop Raphael from dragging it over to face the bed and then sitting in it. Sometimes, it must be nice to have demon strength. Of course, I currently had it myself, and I’d just as soon have done without. I wasn’t used to letting Lugh control me like this, and all my primal survival instincts shouted at me to fight, to run, to do something to win my way free.

I felt Lugh’s muscles tense, then relax when I resisted the urge to struggle.

Was this what it was like for Andy? Could he feel everything Raphael did with his body, feel the coarse fabric on the chair’s upholstery under his hands while being powerless to move those hands? If so, how could he stand it? Could I really believe my brother was alive and well inside his body?

“How is your host faring?” Lugh asked, shocking me and, judging by the look on his face, Raphael as well.

“The first time we’ve been able to talk to each other outside of an immediate crisis for perhaps a century, and
that’s
what you want to ask me?”

Mentally, I started. I knew, of course, that demons were long-lived, if not immortal. And I knew how badly Lugh and Raphael had gotten along. But it had never occurred to me that they hadn’t spoken to one another for so long.

“Remember, brother,” Lugh said, “unlike yourself, I’m in partnership with my host. Which means her concerns are important to me. So tell me how Andrew fares.”

Raphael shook his head. “Why should I bother? Neither you nor Morgan will believe me if I tell you he’s fine.” I’d never seen my brother’s face look petulant before. It wasn’t a flattering expression.

I felt my teeth grinding and knew that Lugh was struggling to control himself.

Don’t throw a conniption fit on my behalf,
I thought at him.
You know I’ve already had this conversation with him, and his assurances haven’t made me feel any better.

“Do you blame us for not fully trusting you?” Lugh asked. “Would
you
trust
me
if our positions were reversed?”

Raphael crossed his arms over his chest and slumped in his chair. I swear he looked just like a sulking teenager. “Nothing I ever do is enough for you. No matter how many risks I’ve taken for you, no matter—”

Lugh growled. “Stop whining! If the only reason you’re helping me—if you are indeed helping me—is so you can use your cooperation as emotional blackmail, then don’t bother.”

The demon Raphael flared in Andrew’s eyes, and for a moment I thought he was going to launch himself at us. Lugh tensed, apparently sharing my suspicion, but Raphael managed to keep his ass in the chair. He gripped the arms of his chair with both hands, and the knuckles turned white.

Uh, Lugh, I don’t think goading him and telling him what a shit he is is terribly productive,
I said. Funny how much more rational I could be when it was Lugh arguing with Raphael rather than myself.

“And who was it who goaded him into hitting her the last time she spoke with him?” Lugh asked aloud.

If my body had been my own, I’m sure I would have flushed beet red at the reminder. I definitely wasn’t in a position to throw stones.

To my surprise, Raphael chuckled and seemed to relax. “I have mentioned before that you and Morgan make a surprisingly compatible team.” The humor faded from his face, but at least the sullenness didn’t return. “Andrew is fine. We are neither of us happy with our forced alliance, but we are making the best of the situation.”

Lugh snorted. “No one’s forcing the alliance except
you
.”

Raphael leaned forward in his chair. “You’re forgetting something, brother. Andrew and I have despised one another almost since the first moment we met. I have the power to destroy him, but because of you and Morgan, I’m not doing it. So yes, I am being forced into an alliance I’d very much prefer to give up.”

Then give it up, you asshole,
I wanted to say, but of course my voice wasn’t under my own control at the moment.

I felt my lips curl into a smile that was more like a snarl. “I’d be happy to help you give it up, little brother,” Lugh said, and it seemed like every muscle in my body tensed.

Raphael tensed, too. “You think you can exorcize me?” His lips curled into a snarl very like his brother’s. “Are you certain which one of us would win if we fought?”

Lugh had told me once that he wasn’t sure, that he and Raphael were evenly matched. But he seemed to have forgotten that doubt now.

“Let’s find out,” Lugh said, and before the words had left his mouth, he had propelled himself off the bed and slammed into Raphael’s body.

What are you doing?
I screamed in my mind. If they fought and Lugh lost, then it was all over. Dougal would gain the throne, and everything I’d gone through—that
we’d
gone through—would be worth diddly squat.

Lugh didn’t answer me. The chair crashed to the floor, and Raphael ended up trapped on his back, with Lugh holding him down. Andrew was a lot bigger than me, but Lugh was strong enough to compensate, especially when he was already on top. Their eyes locked, and although the effort to exorcize a demon is not a physical one, I was still aware of Lugh mustering his energy, of his aura pressing down on Raphael’s.

I desperately wanted to take back the reins of my body, but it was too late now. If I started fighting against Lugh, I could destroy his concentration, and it would all be over.

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that Lugh would let his temper get the better of him. Yes, I’d seen flashes of that temper before. And yes, I knew how deep-seated was the animosity between him and his brother. Still, I’d thought the same sense of responsibility that I spent most of my time cursing would keep him from doing something so rash. I mentally held my breath, hoping and praying that Lugh turned out to be stronger.

Raphael’s eyes widened as his gaze locked with Lugh’s.

“Please don’t send me back,” Raphael said in a choked whisper. “You know what Dougal will do to me. Please!”

What the hell … ?

Lugh’s aura continued to push against Raphael’s, but there was no resistance. Just a little bit more pressure, and Raphael would be shoved back into the Demon Realm. And my brother would be free.

Raphael lay still under Lugh’s body … under
my
body. There was still no resistance against the pressure of Lugh’s aura, and it finally occurred to me that there was no resistance because Raphael wasn’t fighting back.

“You’re going to make it this easy?” Lugh inquired, his voice calm despite the ugly temper that had prompted the attack.

Raphael swallowed hard. “If one of us is going back, it has to be me. Dougal would kill you, and then it would all have been for nothing.” He closed his eyes and waited. Sweat dewed his face, and his breath came short and frantic, but still he didn’t fight.

Lugh’s aura retreated and he rolled off of Raphael. Raphael just lay there, eyes closed, body tense. Lugh righted the chair he’d knocked over, then grabbed Raphael’s arm, hauled him to his feet, and deposited him in the chair. Then he sat on the edge of the bed again and just stared until Raphael opened his eyes.

The staring contest seemed to go on forever. I had no idea what was going on, what Raphael was thinking, what Lugh was thinking. But I watched through Lugh’s eyes as Raphael’s fear faded to puzzlement, then to understanding, then to fury.

“You
bastard
!” he spat, and it looked like he was holding himself in the chair by force of will alone. “That was some kind of test, wasn’t it? A test of my loyalty?”

“If you’re to be in my inner circle, if I’m to trust you, then I had to know for certain you’re on my side.”

To my shock, Raphael’s eyes glittered with what looked like a hint of tears. “And that’s what it took for me to prove my worth?” His voice was hoarse, and there was no missing the pain in it. I’d sometimes mistrusted Raphael’s emotions in the past, never sure he wasn’t just acting. This time, I was sure he wasn’t.

Lugh reached out to pat his brother’s shoulder. Raphael actually flinched from the touch.

“Ask yourself this, little brother,” Lugh said. “Given everything that’s at stake, would I have taken the risk of fighting you if I really thought you’d fight back? You may think me arrogant, but surely you don’t think I’m so arrogant as to assume I’d win.”

Raphael blinked and shook his head. “But then why … ?”

“Because I’m not the only one who needed to be convinced.”

Well, shit. That whole show had been for
me
? I hadn’t been Raphael’s favorite person before, and this wouldn’t do anything to endear me to him.

Raphael thought about that for a long time without saying anything. Then he nodded. “I can’t say I appreciate your methods, but I understand. What happens now that I’ve passed your test?”

“Did you truly tell Morgan everything you know about the Houston project?” I’m sure Raphael could hear the skepticism in Lugh’s voice as well as I could.

Raphael’s shoulders stiffened, but he answered civilly enough. “Yes, I did. There are at least thirty-five or forty facilities scattered throughout the world. I know very little about their day-to-day operations.”

“Am I really supposed to believe that when you were so intimately involved with the project at The Healing Circle?”

Raphael visibly bristled. “I thought I’d just passed your test of loyalty. Apparently, I was mistaken.”

“I believe in your loyalty,” Lugh said with a sardonic smile. “Your honesty, however, is still very much in question.”

To my surprise, Raphael laughed at that. “You’ll make a good king if we can ever get you back on the throne,” he said, and there was no longer any animosity in his voice.

“I’m glad you think so. Now, about the Houston facility …”

Raphael heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I’m telling the truth, hard though that might be for you to believe. The Healing Circle was something of a pet project for me.”

“But you were overseeing the campaign to breed a better host,” Lugh protested. “You were in charge of the whole thing!”

Raphael shook his head. “
Dougal
was in charge. I was merely his emissary to the Mortal Plain.”

I didn’t believe him, and I don’t think Lugh did, either. But it seemed there was little point in pushing the issue any further. Raphael wasn’t going to admit the lie. But I’m sure Lugh was as curious as I about just what his brother was hiding this time.

“All right,” Lugh said, though I’m sure Raphael heard the hint of skepticism in his voice. “I’ll accept that you don’t know what was happening in the Houston facility. But you must have known who was in charge. Surely there was
some
communication between the facilities?”

“Why are you so interested in Houston anyway? Nothing that happened there is important in the grand scheme of things. What’s important is figuring out how to outwit Dougal.”

But Lugh shook his head. “Figuring out what he was up to on the Mortal Plain, and what progress he made, is also important to me. We’ve allowed ourselves to interfere with humans too much already while our monarchs have kept themselves blissfully ignorant. I won’t allow that to continue during my reign. So contact some of your old friends in the breeding business and find out what was happening at the Houston facility. I want to know why Tommy Brewster is so important that a demon would take the risk of possessing him illegally under such suspicious circumstances.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something? I’m an outlaw at the moment, in as much danger from Dougal and his supporters as you are. My contacts have all dried up.”

“Like hell they have. Or are you telling me that Dougal has the means and the desire to inform every demon on the Mortal Plain that you are no longer his sidekick?”

From the look of him, Raphael was about to explode with frustration, but he managed to keep it under control. “Fine,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ll see what I can find out, and I’ll report back to you. Do you have any other orders, Your Majesty?” With that flat voice, it was hard to tell if the honorific was meant as sarcasm or as a term of respect. At least it was hard for
me
to tell. Lugh would know if it was traditional for his brothers to address him by title, but he wasn’t letting on one way or another.

“Only to be kind to Andrew, no matter how much you dislike him.”

Lugh stood up, and Raphael did, too. They had another one of their staring contests, and I had no idea what either one was thinking.

Um, Lugh? If you’re all done, can I have my body back?
I asked. I’d been interested enough in their conversation to forget for a while just how uncomfortable it was to have Lugh in control, but it was coming back to me fast. It took a lot of willpower to keep myself from trying to break free of his control.

Lugh didn’t answer me, but he held out his hand. Raphael stared at him for another second, then shook the offered hand and nodded.