The Devil's Due (15 page)

“Who threatened you?” I asked, though I supposed it had to be Tommy and/or his cronies.

“No one threatened me,” she said, but I didn’t believe her for a moment. “My husband and I have decided it’s time we accept reality and move on with our lives. We have to care for the children we still have.”

Claudia didn’t strike me as the type who’d give in easily to threats. Either her husband was a wuss and convinced her to be a wuss with him, or the bad guys had come up with one hell of a scary threat. What would be enough to convince a mother to stop fighting for the life of her son? I remembered the picture of those two smiling little girls and figured I had my answer right there.

Now, a wise person might have taken this as some kind of cue from the universe that it was time to back off of Tommy Brewster. I wasn’t exactly making a whole lot of progress, and I didn’t suppose my chances of finding an excuse to exorcize him were too good. If the bad guys were threatening the little girls, then any efforts I made could endanger innocent lives. Not to mention that as the demon king’s host, I had enough problems on my own without letting myself get obsessed with others’.

But no one has ever accused me of being wise, and there was no way I was letting the demons get away with this.

“You can accept whatever reality you want,” I said, “but I believe you’re right and that Tommy’s been possessed against his will. As an exorcist, I can’t just let that go.”

Claudia stared into the depths of her empty coffee cup. “Did you know that that exorcist, Sammy Cho, committed suicide?”

My heart made a very unpleasant thud in my chest, and I shook my head in disbelief. Adam had said Sammy was on vacation. I guess it turned out to be a
permanent
one.

“I hadn’t heard,” I said, feeling a wave of sadness even though I hadn’t liked Sammy.

“Maybe he felt guilty over what he did to Tommy.”

It wasn’t hard to follow her train of thought. “Or maybe someone wanted to make sure he wouldn’t blab.”

I hadn’t mentioned to Claudia the possibility that Sammy had been possessed, and I saw no reason to bring it up now, even though his “suicide” practically confirmed it. Whatever demon had taken him wanted to make absolutely sure no one could get proof that Sammy had lied, and it was no skin off the demon’s metaphorical teeth to have his host commit suicide. I could also see why Sammy’s death had left Claudia shaken.

“If you or your family are being threatened, we have grounds to bring in the police.”

“We’re not being threatened,” she reiterated, though I still didn’t believe her. “Your heart is in the right place. I really meant it when I said I appreciated all you’ve done. But it’s time for you to step aside.”

I knew there had to be a good reason she was being like this. I knew she hadn’t just capriciously changed her mind, just like I knew her suddenly cool tone wasn’t personal. That didn’t stop my blood pressure from soaring.

I pushed back my chair, threw my napkin on the table, and stood up. “Thanks for the lovely dinner.”

I started to walk past her toward the door, but she caught hold of my arm and looked up at me beseechingly. “Please, Ms. Kingsley. Leave it alone.” Her eyes pleaded with me, and I felt almost like she was trying to convey some kind of secret message.

Whatever the message was, I wasn’t getting it. I dropped my voice so it could barely be heard in the noisy restaurant. “Tell me who threatened you, and tell me what bad thing will happen if I keep investigating, and I’ll consider your request.”

Her hand squeezed painfully tight on my arm, and her eyes flashed with mingled anger and alarm. “I can’t do that,” she answered just as quietly.

“Fine.” I jerked my arm out of her grip, and this time when I headed for the door, she let me go.

I was in luck. All the machines were empty. I shoved my clothes into the washer and dug out some quarters. The small, claustrophobic room echoed with the sound of the water gushing in, covering the sound of footsteps so that I never heard anyone approach. When I picked up my laundry basket and stood, there were suddenly two super-sized men standing in the laundry room doorway.

I live in a big building, so it’s not as if I would know all the tenants by sight, but these guys would have set my mental alarms ringing even if they hadn’t been wearing dark, wraparound sunglasses in a basement. Goon #1 smiled at me in sadistic anticipation, while Goon #2 made a meaty fist and held it up for display.

They were too squat and ugly to be hosting demons—legal ones, at least—but they probably didn’t need supernatural strength to make my life miserable. I’m a pretty good fighter—when you’re family’s Spirit Society, you learn to stick up for yourself at an early age, unless you enjoy getting beaten to a pulp on a regular basis—but I didn’t like my chances against two men who had the look of professionals.

In tandem, they advanced on me. My Taser was in my purse. I was paranoid enough to carry it around with me at all times, but now that I actually needed it I realized I wasn’t paranoid enough. I had to have it out and armed already, not tucked neatly in my purse.

I didn’t have any brilliant ideas, but one thing I knew for sure was the laundry basket wouldn’t help my defense much. I screamed as loud as I could, the sound echoing nicely through the unfortunately deserted basement, and threw the laundry basket at my would-be assailants.

As I’d hoped, they were momentarily startled, which gave me time to put the folding table between me and them while I shoved my hand in my purse. Very much contrary to my hopes, they recovered before I could even
find
the Taser, much less draw it.

Goon #1 wasn’t about to let a little thing like a folding table get between him and his quarry. He leapt over it, coming straight at me while his partner continued to block the doorway. I didn’t have time to get my hand out of my purse before he was on me, but I managed an off-balance kick that hurt him just enough to annoy him. He charged me again, and I jabbed at his eyes with my fingers while I tried for his groin with my knee. He ducked out of the way of my jab, and turned his hips to take my knee on his thigh. Damn. Apparently he wasn’t expecting me to fight like a girl, and myself-defense moves weren’t surprising him.

He grabbed both my arms to keep me from trying to hit him again. I would have gone for another kick, except Goon #2 had waded in while I was distracted. His punch connected with my cheek, and if I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn he’d just hit me with an anvil.

I didn’t fall down, but only because Goon #1 still had hold of my arms. My head spun, and while I was trying to remember which way was up, a punch to the gut drove all the air out of my lungs. The goon hit me again, this time in the eye, and pain stabbed all the way through my head. But it wasn’t the pain of his fist that caused it. Lugh was trying to surface, coming to my rescue like a knight in shining armor. Considering these guys could probably beat me to death if they wanted to, I supposed I should let him.

But then Goon #2 let go of my arms and allowed me to collapse to the floor in a puddle of misery.

“This is just a friendly warning,” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “Stay out of Tom Brewster’s business.”

I realized that meant the beating was over, and I no longer needed Lugh’s services. I’m sure he realized that, too, but he didn’t let up. He was going to exploit my semi-dazed state and steal the reins to my body. I concentrated on holding him off, but a poke in the gut with a toe reminded me I had more than one problem.

“You hear me?” the goon prompted.

Forming words while fighting for air, fighting nausea, fighting dizziness, and fighting Lugh wasn’t exactly easy. However, I figured if I didn’t answer, I was in for more pain, and Lugh was even more likely to win our battle. “Loud … and … clear,” I managed to gasp, and the goons, satisfied with a job well done, disappeared as silently as they had come.

Lugh continued his barrage against my mental barriers, the pain spiking through my head so hard it drew a whimper from my throat. If that were the only pain I had to battle, I probably would have prevailed. Knowing I would eventually have to sleep and leave myself open to him, he would have bided his time rather than submitting me to what amounted to torture. But combined with the pain of the beating, it was too much. Hard though I tried to hold on, my mind slid closer and closer to oblivion. Tears of frustration welled in my tightly shut eyes.

And then my entire body eased, the pain disappearing as if it had never existed. I took a moment to sigh in relief before I let the panic set in.

Driving my body, Lugh pushed me up into a sitting position. I felt the touch of my own hand as he made me wipe away the traces of tears. He was blocking the pain so thoroughly that in any other circumstance, I’d probably have been grateful to him. Well, maybe not.

My body was no longer my own, but if a mind could shudder, then that’s what mine did. The last time Lugh had taken control, he’d shut my conscious mind out completely, trapping me in a dark, claustrophobic, terrifying oubliette. I had panicked then like I’ve never panicked before in my life, and had I actually been there in body, I would have done myself considerable physical harm in my frantic attempts to escape. If he did that to me again …

“I won’t,” he said, using my own mouth to speak to me. I really hate it when he does that. “Those were extenuating circumstances,” he explained as he rose to his feet. “I would not do that to you on a whim.”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t control a single muscle in my body, but I imagined any number of colorful suggestions for what he could do with himself, and since he knew all my thoughts, I knew he could “hear” them.

He sighed. “We’ve been through this before,” he said patiently. “I have a responsibility to my people—and to yours—that has to take precedence over your desires. I’m not in any way
trying
to hurt you.”

He picked up my laundry basket and carried it out into the darkened hallway, where he summoned an elevator. If I couldn’t wrest back control before he made it to my apartment and my phone, he was going to make the damning call to Adam, and there would be nothing I could do to stop him.

Fool that I was, I’d forgotten about the cell phone in my purse. Lugh hadn’t. While he waited for the elevator, he fished the phone out. I struggled against his control, but he had a firm hold. It would take time to wrest control back, time I knew I didn’t have.

It showed something about the mess my life had become that I had Adam on speed-dial.

Something hard and cold solidified in my center—metaphysically speaking, I suppose, since without a body, I didn’t really have a center. This was not a battle I was willing to lose, not a battle I could
afford
to lose, not if I wanted any say at all in the rest of my life. I focused all my thoughts into getting one clear, cold message across to Lugh.
Do this, and from now on, we will be enemies
.

He gasped, and from that I knew he’d heard my message. Adam’s phone began to ring just as the elevator doors opened. Lugh stepped inside.

“You can’t mean that!” he objected.

You know I do
. And, because there was no corner of my mind he couldn’t see into, he did.
I’ll find a way to get back in control eventually, even if you decide to toss me in that oubliette again. Do you want to be at war with me as well as with Dougal
?

He shook his head. “Why?” he asked. “Why do this over a request you don’t even know if Adam and Dominic will honor?”

Why ask questions when you already know the answers? But in case you need me to verbalize it—it’s because I have to take a stand somewhere, sometime. This is where I’m drawing the line in the sand
.

“Hello?” Adam said, and Lugh didn’t immediately respond.

“Perhaps I should have put you directly in the oubliette after all,” Lugh muttered very softly.

“What?” Adam said. “Morgan? Are you all right?”

Lugh made a soft growling sound that my throat shouldn’t have been able to make. “Actually, it’s not Morgan, it’s Lugh.”

Even without a body, I felt as if I were holding my breath, nervously waiting to see which path Lugh would choose. I didn’t want to be at war with him, but that decision now rested firmly in his hands.

“Morgan was just attacked in the basement of her apartment building,” Lugh said, and I mentally breathed a sigh of relief. “She wasn’t hurt too badly, and I don’t dare heal her injuries since her attackers got away. However, she should make a police report, and you should be the one to take her statement.”

“Of course. I’ll be right over.”

“And, Adam?”

“Yes?”

“Morgan has a request from me that I’ve tasked her with making. I’ll allow her to phrase it however she wants, but don’t leave her apartment until she conveys the request. Understood?”

“Er … yeah, I guess.”

“Very well. We shall see you soon.”

Lugh hung up just as the elevator doors opened on my floor. He stepped out into the hallway. “I hope you will consider that a fair compromise,” he muttered.

I wasn’t sure what I thought about this “compromise” yet, so I didn’t answer.

Lugh let himself into my apartment, dropped the laundry basket by the door, and drove my body to the couch. He sat down, and then suddenly my entire body ached and throbbed, and nausea roiled in my stomach.

With a groan, I lay down on the couch and clutched a throw pillow over my face, blocking out the light in hopes that it would ease the pounding in my head.