The Devil Inside (24 page)

My stomach really didn’t like this conversation. “You’re just trying to intimidate me into doing what you want. It won’t work.”

“Why do you think you had such a terrible headache this evening?”

That stopped me cold, but only for a minute. “Stress will do that to a person.”

“So will fighting a demon.”

I swallowed hard. “So you’re saying you were trying to take over and that’s why my head hurt?”

“Yes. I’d vowed not to interfere with your life any more than necessary, but when you flee the only person who can help you, I have to protect you from your own foolishness.”

It was my turn to growl. “I can protect my own damn self! Stay out of it.”

“Even supposing I could, I wouldn’t. Must I keep reminding you that there’s more at stake here than your own life? Are you so small-minded?”

“Yes!” I screamed, angry and scared and desperate. “I never wanted to be a fucking hero. If I wanted to be a hero, I’d have volunteered to host. I’m a small-minded, selfish little bitch who just wants to live her own small, unimportant life in peace. I never asked for fucking Raphael to torture the fucking king of the demons by foisting him on me!” I sucked in a great gulp of air—I’d said all of that so far without breathing—but before I could continue the tirade, Lugh closed the distance between us and enveloped me in his arms.

I tried to pull away, but he was far too strong for me. My face ended up pressed against his chest, his hand splayed on the side of my head to hold me there. The leather of his jacket was much softer than it looked. 153 / 226

Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)

Morgan Kingsley #1

His other arm wrapped around my shoulders in a solid, unbreakable grip. His chin rested on the top of my head. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself, and caught the delicious scent of him, that unknown, exotic, musky scent that was like nothing else I’d ever smelled.

“I’m sorry, Morgan,” he murmured, his hand rubbing gently over my back. “I’m so sorry you were dragged into this. I can’t tell you how much I wish it hadn’t happened, and not just because of the threat to me. I’ll do everything I can to make things better for you and to keep you safe.”

He felt so warm and strong against me that it sapped all my will. I slipped my arms around his waist and let him hold me, and tried for just a few minutes not to think.

One thing I’ll say for Lugh—he gives great hugs. By the time he let go, the hysteria that had threatened to overwhelm me was gone. I wasn’t quite at the acceptance stage yet—way too much fight left in me for that—but at least I was calm, steady, and rational.

He cupped my cheeks in his hands, tilting my head up toward his. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me, wanted to lose myself in sensual pleasure. But he didn’t, and it was just as well. I still loved Brian, and if by some miracle I lived through all this and persuaded him to take me back, I didn’t want to have betrayed him in even such a small way.

I took a deep, steadying breath. “If I can come up with a solid plan of action that doesn’t involve Adam, will you let me do it?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I would be most interested to hear it.”

Yeah, so would I. “Is that a yes?”

He gave me one of those searching looks I was learning to hate. Then he nodded slowly. “If the plan is good, then I won’t try to take you over. But understand, as much as I regret that you’ve been dragged into this against your will, I have a duty both to my people and to yours. I will not let sentiment interfere with doing what I know is right.”

Yeah, he’d made that point crystal clear. “I understand,” I assured him.

“Give me twenty-four hours to come up with something better. If I can’t, and if Adam is still willing and able to help me, then I’ll go back.”

I don’t think he was thrilled with the compromise, but he accepted it. Now all I had to do was come up with a brilliant plan in twenty-four hours or less.

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Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)

Morgan Kingsley #1

No brilliant inspirations struck me while I slept, and I woke up on Monday morning with no better idea what to do than I’d had when I collapsed into bed Sunday night. A long, hot shower and three cups of terrible coffee with fake cream failed to produce a solution out of thin air. It wasn’t like I had any investigative skills. By the time I’m pulled into a case, the demon has already been captured and convicted. Even if I’d had skills, Lugh was right about how few my resources were. I mean, my house with all my worldly goods had burned to the ground just a few days ago. I hadn’t even begun to dig myself out of that mess. I suppose I needed to make sure I’d be alive in a week or so before I tried to rebuild my life. It didn’t leave me with many options.

Not to mention, there was still a murder charge hanging over my head. I checked in with my lawyer’s office, just to let her know I hadn’t skipped town.

After I got off the phone with my lawyer, I called Brian again. I tried him at his office, but he hadn’t gotten in yet. I left another message, giving him Val’s cell number. Yeah, I know it was stupid to give him the phone number of someone who’d been murdered yesterday, but I was too paranoid to give him the hotel number.

Still no brilliant plans.

I flipped on the TV, more because I wanted some background noise than because I actually wanted to watch anything that was on at nine in the morning.

God conspired against me so that as soon as the TV was on, the screen filled with Adam’s handsome face. My throat tightened. He was standing at a podium, a forest of microphones in front of him. Special Report, said the top left corner of the screen. Across the bottom of the screen, a headline scrolled: Director of Special Forces, Adam White, accused of murder.

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, wishing I could make everything go away.

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Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)

Morgan Kingsley #1

“Do you have any hard feelings toward your men for giving credence to the accusation?” one of the reporters asked.

“Not at all,” Adam said. His deep voice and good looks gave good TV.

“They were only doing their job. I’d have been upset with them if they hadn’t been thorough. I’m not above the law. My only hard feelings are for whoever placed that call.”

Those hot caramel eyes stared directly into the camera, seeming to look through it straight at me.

“I promise you, the perpetrator will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

I swallowed hard, instinct telling me it wouldn’t be the law that prosecuted me but Adam himself.

The cell phone rang. I muted the TV but wasn’t able to tear my eyes from the screen as I fumbled the phone open, praying it was Brian.

“Hello?” I said.

“Morgan, Morgan, where is your head, little girl?”

I shot to my feet, wishing I’d checked the number before I’d answered.

“What do you want, Andrew?”

“Take a few mental leaps with me, dear sister. You called in a complaint to the police yesterday on Valerie’s cell phone. The police investigated your claim and found it was a hoax. Adam White is now hell-bent on arresting you. And you’re still carrying the cell phone. Should I give you a lesson in modern technology?”

I stifled a groan. Yes, I was a moron. But I wasn’t used to being on the run, hadn’t thought things through that far. Of course the police would be able to trace the cell phone. They could be converging on me any moment. I started shoving my few belongings back in shopping bags, holding the cell phone to my ear with my shoulder. Yes, I should have hung up immediately and run for the hills, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Why are you calling me, Andrew? Why do you care?”

He chuckled. “Let’s just say it would be inconvenient for everyone involved if you were arrested and they revoked your bail. So get your ass out of wherever you are and dump the phone. And don’t worry, sis—I’ll still be able to find you when I need you.”

He hung up then, which was just as well or I’d probably have wasted more time cussing him out.

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Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)

Morgan Kingsley #1

I was out of my room within five minutes, but I took the cell phone with me. I didn’t want to lead the police to the room, where they’d find my fingerprints all over the place and know for sure I was the one who’d placed the call. I turned it off and removed its battery, hoping that would be enough to stop the police from homing in on it. A police car pulled into the hotel parking lot as my cab pulled out. I held my breath, but the police didn’t come screaming after us. I had the driver take me to Front Street—so named because it fronts the Delaware River. I got out, then tried to look inconspicuous as I did my best to wipe every fingerprint off the phone and its battery, then tossed both in the river. My head started hurting as I wandered aimlessly along the riverfront, trying to figure out what my next step was. I pinched the bridge of my nose and said, “Cut it out, Lugh. You gave me twenty-four hours, remember?”

The headache went away, but it had been an effective reminder. I found a pay phone and called Brian, talking to his voice mail again. I told him to ignore the number I’d given him before. I wished like hell he’d just pick up the phone. I longed for him in ways I’d never imagined I could. I took a bus back into Center City and bought a prepaid phone. I worried that Adam with his police resources might still be able to trace it to me. But my delusion that I’d be able to take care of myself was fraying around the edges.

I felt so desperate, I actually considered calling my mom and asking for her help. Luckily, I had a few more functioning brain cells than that. My mom claims she loves me despite my copious flaws, but she practically worships golden boy Andrew. She’d turn me over to him in a heartbeat, wouldn’t even consider the possibility that he might not be the Dalai Lama, Jesus Christ, and Mother Teresa all rolled into one. At around three o’clock, I tried Brian yet again. And got his voice mail, yet again. For some reason, that bothered me, and I called the main office number. The receptionist told me Brian hadn’t been in all day and that he hadn’t called in sick. Everyone was worried about him. I was worried about him, too. I assured the receptionist that I’d go over to his condo and make sure he wasn’t lying unconscious—or worse—on the floor.

All my keys were buried somewhere in the rubble that had once been my house, but I had a spare set at my office. I didn’t like going there, where 157 / 226

Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)

Morgan Kingsley #1

people who wanted me dead might expect me to go, but I didn’t think I had a whole lot of choice.

“Hey, Lugh?” I whispered as I walked, hoping people on the street would think I was talking into a cell phone. “Can you let me know if you see anyone or anything that should worry me when I get near the office?”

My answer was a brief stab of pain through my eyeball. Lovely. I took that as a yes and tried not to scare the crap out of myself by thinking about being able to communicate with him while I was conscious. No headaches battered at me as I approached my office. Didn’t stop me from constantly looking over my shoulder and starting at shadows. Of course, with my keys lost, I had to find a custodian to open my office for me. The delay made me twitchy, but eventually I tracked someone down to let me in.

I made a beeline for my pencil drawer. I’d yanked it open and grabbed my spare set of keys before I noticed the padded manila envelope that sat on my chair.

It shouldn’t have been there. When I’m not in the office, my deliveries go to the mailroom downstairs. And no one but the custodial staff had keys to my office.

Nervously, I upended the envelope onto my desk. A videocassette and a sheet of paper fell out.

The note was short and to the point: Morgan. When you’ve watched this tape, call me on my cell phone. Andrew.

Words can’t describe how much I didn’t want to see whatever was on this tape. Unfortunately, not watching wasn’t an option. I didn’t have a VCR in my office, and of course I didn’t have a home to go to. But Brian’s place was only a couple of blocks away. I hoped I’d let myself in and find out he was home sick and just hadn’t bothered to call his office to let them know.

I wasn’t holding my breath.

By the time I let myself into Brian’s condo, my knees were literally knocking, and my stomach was in turmoil. I wondered if I was on the way to a nervous breakdown, then sternly told myself I couldn’t afford a nervous breakdown.

Brian wasn’t home, and there were a gazillion messages on his answering machine. Looked like he hadn’t been home in a while. I looked at the tape 158 / 226

Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)

Morgan Kingsley #1

in my hand and prayed it wasn’t what I thought it was. My hands shook when I stuffed it into Brian’s VCR and hit play. Static for a moment. Then the picture I’d been dreading. He was chained to a wall, hands above his head, a ball gag stuffed into his mouth. They’d stripped him down to his tightie-whities and shackled his ankles together.

The wall he was chained to was of old-looking, rough stone blocks, no doubt to give the room its dungeon–cum–torture chamber atmosphere. There were plenty of other sets of chains hanging from those walls. The camera panned to show a collection of whips that would put Adam’s to shame, then a brazier holding a set of glowing irons, then something that looked like it might actually be a genuine rack. When the camera panned back to Brian, he wasn’t alone anymore. A cloaked and hooded figure stood in front of him, weaving a scalpel dextrously through his fingers. Brian watched the show with wide, scared eyes.I was shaking my head, hand clamped over my mouth to contain my scream of pain and outrage.

The hooded figure smiled into the camera and stopped playing with the scalpel. He stepped toward Brian. I tried to brace myself, knowing what I was about to see, knowing I should just stop the tape now, knowing I couldn’t.