The Devil's Due (14 page)

Brian gave me a look of long-suffering patience. “If you’ll let me finish …” I bit my tongue and nodded. “As I was saying, he’s right that this is a battle you’re eventually going to lose. I can’t stay here to keep you awake every night, and you can’t stay awake indefinitely.”

Pissed off at him even though I didn’t really have any reason to be, I shoved the covers off and made a beeline for my closet to grab my robe. At least, that’s what I intended to do, but Brian took hold of my arm to stop me.

“Why are you angry with me?” he asked quite reasonably. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”

I glared at his hand until he let go of me. I felt at a distinct disadvantage arguing with him while I was stark naked, so I put on my robe, giving myself a couple moments to calm down. I knew I was overreacting. I knew it wasn’t really Brian I was angry with. But somehow, that didn’t seem to help me fight off the anger.

“Instead of getting pissed about it,” Brian said, “why don’t you just sit down and talk to me and we’ll see if we can come up with a way out of the problem.”

I let out a huff of frustration. “There
is
no way out, as you just pointed out.”

Brian crossed the room and turned me to face him, his hands warm and solid on my shoulders. “We’ll find one, okay? Can you just assume I’m not the enemy and talk to me?”

The hint of hurt in his eyes made my heart ache, and before I knew what I was going to do, I had put my arms around him and squeezed tight.

“I know you’re not the enemy,” I murmured against his collarbone as he returned my embrace. “And I’m sorry I’m such a bitch. I just … I want my life back, and I know I’m not going to get it, at least not anytime soon.”

“I understand,” he assured me. “And I love you even when you’re being bitchy.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “Good thing, that.”

His lips brushed the top of my head. “Yup.”

I laughed again, slapping his chest and taking a step back. “Jerk! You didn’t have to agree with me.”He just grinned. I let the humor bleed out of me and retreated back to the bed, grabbing my coffee once more. Brian joined me, sitting close enough that I could feel the heat of his body beside me as I quietly sipped my coffee. He didn’t say anything, choosing instead to sit beside me in supportive, companionable silence. It felt surprisingly good. Domestic, even. And then Brian had to go and ruin it.

“You know,” he said softly. “If we were living together, we could have quiet mornings like this every day.”

My hand clenched on my mug, and I ground my teeth. It had been quite a while since he’d trotted that one out. I’d turned him down enough times in the past that I would have thought he’d have learned his lesson. I shook my head and refused to look at him.

“I’m really grateful to you for staying with me last night,” I said, “but we still have … issues. You know that.”

“You mean
you
have issues,” he countered, but he didn’t sound particularly upset.

I should have bristled, but somehow I couldn’t find the energy. “If one of us has an issue, then we both have an issue.” I put the coffee mug down and turned to face him. He was wearing his lawyer face, the one he wore when he didn’t want me to know what he was feeling. I hated that face, but I couldn’t blame him at the moment.

“Even if I totally forget about how you and Lugh have teamed up against me, I can’t forget that there are a lot of people out there who want to kill me, and they’re not the sort to worry if an innocent bystander gets hurt in the process.”

“We’ve been through all that before. I’ll be in the line of fire no matter what.” He smiled, but it was a half-hearted expression. “But don’t worry. I didn’t expect you to fall into my arms and give me everything I want. I just wanted to remind you that I still want it.”

What can I say? The man is just too good for me, but I can’t seem to convince him of the fact.

“So now that we have that out of the way,” he said, “let’s talk about what you should do with the Adam and Dominic situation.”

Neither one of us actually believed that it was “out of the way,” but I decided I could pretend as well as Brian. “If you have any brilliant ideas, I’d love to hear them.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if this counts as a ‘brilliant idea,’ but I do have a suggestion. You think that if Lugh gets to introduce the idea to Adam, Adam’s going to agree, right?”

I nodded. “He won’t like it, but when Lugh says to jump, Adam’s one of those idiots who asks ‘how high?’”

“And you think Dominic will agree because he wants to be a hero.”

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“So maybe you should try to convince Dominic to be a different kind of hero.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“Adam will agree because he thinks he has no choice but to obey his king, but it’s going to tear him up inside. So make sure Dominic understands what putting Saul back in his body will do to Adam. Maybe then he won’t be willing to host Saul.”

I bit my lip, thinking about it. It made a certain amount of sense. But timing could be very important. If Adam mentioned his extracurricular activities and Dom didn’t take it well, then he might not be in the right frame of mind. I suddenly wished I hadn’t badgered Adam into agreeing to tell the truth.

“That sounds like as good a plan as any,” I told Brian, “but I’m still going to wait before I say anything. I’d rather have something more foolproof.”

Brian gave me a grave look. “I don’t think foolproof is going to be an option.”

He was probably right. But as they say, hope springs eternal.

I was still feeling pretty groggy after my long night’s sleep. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself today. I could try to harass Tommy in hopes that he’d let something slip, but aside from the fact that I didn’t think it would work, I was also pretty sure it wouldn’t be good for my health. Probably Tommy wouldn’t stoop to any kind of violence against me, not when he would be the immediate prime suspect and a conviction could get him killed. But this was one of those instances where I’d really hate to be proven wrong.

With my brain feeling so fuzzy, I decided to set myself to the patently uncerebral task of doing laundry. I spent most of my afternoon sitting in my building’s creepy basement laundry room watching my clothes spin in the dryer. I’d have gotten through it much faster, but apparently Wednesday was Little Old Lady Laundry Day, because there was a steady procession of them hogging the machines. I had to hang around like a vulture waiting for its prey to die.

I was in a decidedly grumpy mood and still had one more load to do when I gave up for the day. That damn laundry room was super-heated from all the hot air of the dryers, I was soaked with sweat, and my throat was parched from the dry heat. I couldn’t take any more, so I dragged my current clean load upstairs and told myself I’d finish up later.

My cell phone rang while I was putting the laundry away, and I debated whether I wanted to answer or not. When the caller ID told me it was Claudia, I decided I should take it.

Turned out it wasn’t Claudia, it was her secretary. Claudia was stuck in important meetings all afternoon, but she wanted to meet with me. Her secretary asked me if seven o’clock at Bookbinder’s would fit into my schedule.

I was momentarily speechless. I wasn’t officially working for Claudia, so could this actually be considered a business meeting? It seemed not, and yet surely she wouldn’t have tasked her secretary to make her social arrangements. And surely she wouldn’t have assumed I could afford to eat at places like Bookbinder’s at the drop of a hat. I really wanted to ask the secretary who’d be paying for this meal, but I figured that would be kind of tacky.

In the end, I agreed to the meeting. If I ended up having to pay, at least I’d be getting a first-class meal out of it. And if I didn’t have to pay, it would be a
free
first-class meal. Yeah, yeah, typical me, thinking with my stomach.

I gathered from Claudia’s secretary that she would be coming straight to dinner from work. I figured I should try to dress a little businesslike to put her at her ease, but I didn’t own anything appropriate for a boardroom. I decided on a pair of white pinstriped pants that might have looked like business wear if they hadn’t ridden so low on my hips, paired with a metallic silver tank top that dipped low enough to show some pretty serious cleavage. I looked more like I was going clubbing than going out to eat at a fancy restaurant for business, but it was the best I could do. I hadn’t even come close to replacing the extensive wardrobe I’d lost in the fire.

The Old Original Bookbinder’s is located near the Delaware River and is either a first-class seafood restaurant, or a tourist trap, depending on whom you ask. When I was a kid, every time we had someone come visit from out of town, there’d be a requisite trip to Bookbinder’s for a lobster dinner. It used to be there was another restaurant called Bookbinder’s on Fifteenth Street. They both billed themselves as being the “original” Bookbinder’s, and my dad would regale visitors with stories—possibly more urban legend than history—about the bitter battles between the two for the right to use the name. The one on Fifteenth Street—which was “original” because it was owned and operated by the original Bookbinder’s family—is gone now, but the one by the riverfront—which is “original” because it’s the location of the original Bookbinder’s restaurant—is alive and well.

I arrived before Claudia and tried to keep myself from staring at the huge lobster tank. When I was a kid, I’d always been fascinated by the lobster tanks, where customers could handpick which lobster was going to die to feed them that night. At the time, I didn’t really make the connection that those bright red crustaceans that appeared on our plates were the same dark, drab creatures that crawled around in those tanks. Now that I knew better, I felt sorry for the poor, doomed things. Yeah, I’m a tough broad all right—with a bleeding heart.

Claudia arrived at quarter after seven, full of profuse apologies. She had indeed come straight from work, where one of her meetings had run late. I silently praised my own wisdom in choosing a job that would let me set my own hours. I didn’t make the kind of money Claudia Brewster did, but at least I had as much free time as I wanted. Or I used to, before I became the demon king’s human host.

“So, what’s the occasion?” I asked Claudia once we were seated and our drink orders were placed. I didn’t know her well enough to be sure, but she seemed a bit nervous. That didn’t do my own nerves much good.

She smiled at me a bit sadly. “I really appreciate you looking into Tommy’s case for me. I wish you’d let me pay you, but since you won’t, I thought I’d at least buy you a nice dinner. You can order anything you want.”

Well, that answered the question of who was paying. But I didn’t think it answered the question of why she’d called this meeting.

I could have pressed her for more information ASAP. That would be my usual MO. But despite her spiffy gray power suit and her confident corporate facade, I sensed she was brittle underneath. Tact and diplomacy aren’t usually my strong suits, but my instincts were telling me to back off, and I usually listen to my instincts.

Claudia ordered a lobster, probably as an additional signal that it was okay for me to do so as well. She declined the opportunity to go to the tanks and pick her victim. Even if the tanks hadn’t bothered me, I’d never dream of ordering lobster at Bookbinder’s. All around me, well-dressed businesspeople, dating couples, and families wore the embarrassing bibs they put on you when you ordered lobster. None of them seemed the least bit uncomfortable about how silly they looked, but I’d have been self-conscious the whole night. Of course, you didn’t
have
to wear the bib, but somehow it felt a little like cheating to refuse it.

I managed not to laugh when they put the bib on Claudia. I think the struggle showed on my face, because her eyes twinkled a bit and her lips lifted in a hint of a smile.

“I haven’t been here in years,” I said, feeling the need to make small talk even though I sucked at it. “I think we came here for every special occasion I could name when I was growing up, so I kind of burned out on the place.” I realized that could be taken as a complaint and felt my cheeks redden with embarrassment. I should really keep my mouth shut.

Luckily, Claudia didn’t take offense. She grinned, and it was almost an impish expression—or maybe it just looked impish because the stupid bib was hiding the power suit. “Were you a chocolate cake kid or a strawberry shortcake kid?” she asked me, and I laughed.

Bookbinder’s has the most ginormous desserts I’ve ever seen, and ordering that slice of chocolate cake the size of my head had always been the highlight of eating here when I was a kid. “Chocolate all the way,” I answered. “I was crushed when they stopped serving it.”

“Me, too. Tommy always liked the shortcake, though. And he always managed to eat the whole thing without even being sick afterward.” Her smile wilted a bit at the memory.

I’d never thought of myself as socially awkward. Abrasive, and maybe even bitchy, but not
awkward
. Claudia was making me reassess myself. It occurred to me that even before my life had gone to hell, I’d spent very little time with female friends. There’d been Valerie, who turned out not to be a friend at all, but most of the other women I’d known when I was younger now had husbands and young children. I’d never exactly fit in with the mainstream crowd, but I’d never felt quite so far on the outside as I did now.

I really had to settle this thing with Adam and Dom. Messing up my sleep schedule was having a negative impact on my mood. In an effort to snap myself out of it, I fished out an oyster cracker from the jar on the table, then scooped out a tiny bit of horseradish from the condiment tray and dabbed it on the cracker. I popped it into my mouth, and the stinging bite of the horseradish cleared my head better than smelling salts.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” I said when I could talk again, “why did you and your husband adopt Tommy? Given his past, he must have been quite a handful.”

Claudia took a dainty sip of the fancy French wine she’d ordered before answering. “I was in a very bad accident when I was twenty-two,” she said. “The damage was extensive enough that I’ll never be able to have children of my own.” She swirled the wine around her glass, looking kind of lost. I wished I hadn’t asked, but before I could think of a graceful way to change the topic, she continued.

“When my husband and I decided to adopt, we both agreed that we’d take in a child who’d be hard to place instead of going on a waiting list for the perfect baby. We fostered several children before Tommy came into our lives, but when he did … we knew he was meant to be ours. It sounds corny, I know, but there you have it.” Again the sad smile.

I couldn’t imagine how a child like Tommy, as troubled as he was, had managed to win the Brewsters’ hearts, but despite my big mouth, I knew better than to voice that particular opinion. As usual, though, I apparently wore my opinion on my face.

“He was a very sweet child,” Claudia hastened to assure me. “He didn’t seem to remember anything about … what happened to him. He was a great student and was popular with the other kids at school. It wasn’t until adolescence that things started to change.”

“Yeah, puberty sucks,” I said, thinking of the changes that had overtaken my brother when he’d gone through puberty. That was when he’d turned into a Spirit Society drone, and I felt like I’d lost my big brother.

Our food arrived, and I thought I was in for a reprieve from the unwise conversation I had started. But after the waiter left, Claudia ignored her steaming lobster and met my eyes over the table.

“The sweet child I once knew is still in there,” she said. “Under all the baggage he carries and all the anger, there’s a decent human being.”

“I believe you,” I lied, then turned my attention to my grilled salmon in hopes she wouldn’t read the lie on my face.

“I don’t suppose I ever mentioned it,” Claudia said, and I hoped that her easy tone meant she hadn’t caught the lie, “but Devon and I also adopted two little girls.” Still ignoring her food, she dug through her purse for her wallet, then showed me a photograph of two children.

I’d guess the older girl was about five, with thin brown hair, and a face I would have called plain if it weren’t for the infectious smile. The smaller girl was probably around three, and would have been adorable in her little froufrou pink dress even if she hadn’t been caught in the middle of a delighted laugh. The older girl stood behind her sister and had bent down to put her arms around her sister’s waist so that their smiling faces were on the same level.

“They’re lovely,” I said, because what else were you supposed to say to someone who shows you pictures of their kids?

“Yes, I think so, too.” There was something strangely sad in her voice as she tucked the wallet back into her purse. I wondered if I should ask about the girls’ backgrounds. They were probably hard-luck kids like Tommy. But Claudia was finally turning her attention to her lobster, and I decided I’d rather eat than talk.

After the awkward and uncomfortable beginning, Claudia did us both a favor and took over the small talk reins for the remainder of the meal. The conversation wasn’t what I’d call stimulating, but it got us both through the meal without too many of those uncomfortable silences. My dinner was delicious, and Claudia and I shared a piece of strawberry shortcake afterward. In my opinion, it wasn’t as good as the chocolate cake they’d mysteriously dropped from the menu, but it was still a decadent treat. We managed to eat about half of it, which considering the size of the piece was an impressive accomplishment.

I’d have been just as happy to hit the road after dessert, but Claudia ordered coffee, so I followed suit. And that was when she broached the
real
reason why she’d asked me to dinner.

I could tell it was coming from the way her fingers tightened on her coffee cup. I’d known from the moment I’d laid eyes on her that there was something bothering her, and now I was going to find out what.

“My husband and I are very thankful for everything you’ve done for us,” she said, not looking me in the eye.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out I was about to be fired—though since I technically wasn’t working for her, it wasn’t really possible for her to fire me.

“But you’ve decided you don’t need my services anymore,” I finished for her. I’d have been pissed as hell if I thought she was dropping me of her own free will. But there was no way the desperate woman who had first shown up at my office would give up on her son, unless she was under duress somehow.

Strain showed in the stiffness of her posture and the tightness of her lips. She raised her chin and met my gaze. “I know it’s pointless,” she said, but there was no conviction in her words.

We stared at each other a long while. Usually, I’d have bet on myself in any staring contest, but there was so much pain and unhappiness in her expression that I was the one who looked away first.