The Devil's Due mk-3

by Jenna Black

  Shae nodded approvingly as she saw the decision on my face, then led me past the line at the entrance and into the club itself.

  The music was so loud it almost knocked me over, and I couldn’t hear whatever Shae said to me in parting. Probably just as well. She smiled at me, her eyes glinting, then melted away into the crowd.

  I stood in the entrance for a while, trying to adjust to the sensory assault. The last time I’d been in here, the music had been a heavy, tuneless techno with a beat that made my teeth rattle. This time it was earsplitting hip-hop, but it still made my teeth rattle. I figured it was just as well I couldn’t understand the lyrics.

  The dance floor was packed with gyrating bodies, some dancing in couples, some in groups, and some just doing their own thing. Here and there, I spotted people wearing angel halos or devil horns, picked up from the table just beside the entrance. They were cheesy as hell, but somehow seemed sinister now that I knew what they meant. People wearing the halos were in the market for some “vanilla sex,” and if they found a compatible partner, they would go up the stairs under the sign that said Heaven and rent a room for a little old-fashioned roll in the hay. Those wearing horns wanted to go down into the basement aptly named Hell, where the sex was anything but vanilla.

  It was in Hell that the demons had held Brian, hiding him in plain sight in a place where screams weren’t necessarily sounds of distress. If Tommy was down there, you could bet your ass I wasn’t going in after him.

  Of course, considering how packed the club was, I wasn’t sure my chances of finding him were all that great no matter where he was. Not knowing what else to do, I weaved and elbowed my way through the crowd until I reached the bar. I used the voucher Shae had given me to buy my favorite drink, a piña colada, then snagged a stool at the far end of the bar, where I had a decent view of most of the club.

  It was a nightclub of course, so it was mostly dark as a pit. I stared out into that darkness, examining faces in whatever scraps of light I could find, hoping to spot Tommy. No luck, but then the night was young. I sipped my drink and wondered what the hell I was doing here. It wasn’t like Tommy was going to spill his guts the moment I started talking to him, or like I could do anything about it even if he admitted to being an illegal.

  I sat there for maybe an hour, alternately scanning the crowd for a glimpse of a familiar face, and trying to talk myself into giving up. I’d already been hit on three times, twice by guys who were probably demons, once by a guy who definitely was not. The Spirit Society has strict standards as to what makes an acceptable host for their damned Higher Powers, and a five-foot-four man with a beer belly and no neck definitely did not qualify. The fact that he was wearing the devil horns did not improve the impression he made.

  When he came back for another try, I decided I’d had enough. Without even speaking to the little twerp, I started making my way toward the door.

  By what had become habit, I continued to scan the crowd. I stumbled to a halt when I finally caught sight of a familiar face. Only it wasn’t the familiar face I’d been expecting.

  There across the room from me, looking loose-limbed and relaxed as he closed the door to Hell behind him, was Adam. And the man exiting Hell at his side was most definitely not Dominic.

  CHAPTER 10

  I stood rooted to the floor, staring across the room, hardly believing what I was seeing. For all of Adam’s faults, I never for a moment would have suspected him of cheating on Dom. I felt a stab of pain in my heart for Dom’s sake.

  I don’t know what made Adam look up and meet my eyes, whether it was just chance or some kind of gut instinct. But when he saw me, his eyes widened in shock and he froze in his tracks. His shoulders slumped, and then his gaze flickered upward and landed somewhere above my left shoulder.

  I couldn’t not look, even though I knew he might be trying to fake me out so he could escape the club without having to face me.

  He wasn’t faking me out. Standing on the balcony above the dance floor, smiling smugly, was Shae. And now I understood exactly why she’d let me in.

  Shae cooperated with Adam because if she didn’t, she’d either be exorcized or executed, but she’d made it abundantly clear how much she resented it. She would happily take advantage of any chance to hurt him, even if it meant hurting Dominic in the process. Maybe even especially if it meant hurting Dom—she had certainly seemed to enjoy it before.

  I dragged my eyes away from Shae and found that, far from fleeing, Adam was making his way through the crowd toward me. I was torn between wanting to avoid him and wanting to rip him a new one. I hadn’t reached a decision yet when he came to a stop directly in front of me.

  I’d never seen him looking anything like this before—embarrassed, uncertain, maybe even vulnerable. But considering he was as good as tearing Dom’s heart out, I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him.

  “At the risk of sounding like a cliché,” he shouted into my ear, the music almost drowning out his words, “it’s not what you think.”

  My hand itched to draw the Taser and give him a good zap in a vulnerable spot. I managed to refrain, though my opinion of him must have shown clearly on my face.

  His eyes darted away from mine. “At least hear me out before you jump to conclusions,” he begged.

  I’d have loved to tell him to go shove it up his ass, but no matter what I thought of him, he was going to be part of Lugh’s inner circle, which meant I would have to find a way to tolerate him no matter how much I loathed him. I couldn’t force a civil word out of my mouth, but I indicated my willingness to listen with a brief, jerky nod.

  “Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he shouted. I didn’t answer, but when he started heading toward the door, I followed. I had to wait until he could retrieve his sidearm from the coat-check girl, or whatever she was, but soon we were out the door into the relatively fresh air.

  Exiting the club—the noise, the crowd, the demons, the unpleasant vibes—was a relief, even though South Street was far from deserted at this time of night. Adam started down the street, and I fell into resentful step beside him, watching him out of the corner of my eye.

  Unlike many of the regulars at The Seven Deadlies, Adam didn’t dress like an S&M cover model when he visited. Instead, he wore conservative khaki pants, a white oxford shirt, and a light linen jacket to conceal his shoulder holster. He had both his hands shoved into his pants pockets right now, and his eyes were fixed on the sidewalk ahead of him.

  My lip curled up in a sneer. “If it wasn’t what I thought, why do you look so goddamn guilty?”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, and I saw him swallow hard. “I didn’t have sex with that guy,” he said, still staring at the pavement.

  I barked out a laugh. “In the same way Bill Clinton didn’t have sex with that woman?”

  He looked at me now, anger flashing in his eyes. But he must have been feeling really crummy, because he didn’t lash out at me. “Let me rephrase that more emphatically—nothing of a sexual nature happened. I don’t go to Hell for the sex.”

  I thought about that a moment and realized I understood what he was saying even though he wasn’t willing to put the whole ugly truth into words. “You go there so you can get your rocks off torturing demons in a way Dominic could never handle now that Saul is gone.”

  “It’s not about sex!” Adam insisted, loudly enough that a couple of passersby turned to look. Adam caught the eye of the most blatant of them and snarled. The Goth chick lowered her pierced eyebrow and looked quickly away.

  Once upon a time, I’d allowed Adam to “play” with me, to satisfy his lust for pain in return for his aid in rescuing Brian. I remembered all too well the feel of his body pressing against my back as he bound my hands above my head.

  “I’ve had up-close-and-personal experience,” I snapped in a furious undertone. “I know—”

  “You know nothing!” he interrupted.

  I stopped, unable to keep walking casually down the sidewalk while si
multaneously fighting Adam and my insidious memories. Adam stopped, too, crowding into my personal space and glaring down at me. I matched him glare for glare.

  “I felt how you reacted, you asshole,” I said, poking him in the chest for emphasis.

  He grabbed my wrist and wrenched it painfully downward. I suppressed a cry of protest, afraid he’d enjoy it too much. “I told you, it was a conditioned response, not true sexual desire. I have no interest in fucking anyone but Dom.”

  My eyes started to water from the pain as his hand closed ever more tightly on my wrist, but I didn’t back down. “And would Dom see it that way if he knew what you were up to?”

  I knew I’d read the guilt in his eyes correctly when he suddenly shoved me away from him, hard. My back slammed into a metal grille that protected a plate-glass window advertising Tarot readings and “spiritual advice.” The air whooshed out of my lungs, and my knees buckled beneath me. Apparently, this was my week for being beat up by my supposed allies.

  My ass landed on the pavement with a teeth-clacking thump, and for half a second I thought I was going to pass out. Then I managed to drag some air into my lungs, and I realized I would stay wide awake so I could feel the bruises as they began to spring up all over my back. I wondered if they’d make a diamond-shaped design to match the grille that created them.

  Adam did another of his intimidating glares at the passersby, and when one didn’t take the hint, he pulled his badge. That caused the crowd to disperse in a hurry, so Adam was able to focus his attention on me once more. He came to squat in front of me, and there was no apology in his eyes.

  “You’d better not say a goddamn thing to Dom about this,” he growled. “He might understand. My host thinks he would. But I’m not willing to risk hurting him.”

  I swallowed my impulse to ask him what exactly he would do to me if I told Dom. As I knew from personal experience, he could do any number of awful things to me without killing me, and since Lugh could fix me right up, he’d probably even get away with it. Instead, I met his eyes and asked him a question he had every reason to think was purely hypothetical.

  “So if you could get Saul back into Dom’s body, would you do it?”

  “No!” he answered with gratifying speed. “I like Saul. He’s my friend, and has been for centuries. We enjoyed ourselves immensely walking the Mortal Plain together, and I’ll see him again when my time on the Mortal Plain is up.” He swallowed hard. “But I love Dominic, and he won’t be waiting for me in the Demon Realm. I don’t want to risk hurting him. It has nothing to do with covering my own ass.”

  This was as candid as I’d ever seen Adam, and there was no longer any doubt in my mind that what I saw in his eyes was indeed vulnerability. The only strong emotion I’d ever seen from him before was fury. This was a whole different side to him, one I wasn’t sure I wanted to see. Not with the message Lugh had tasked me with delivering.

  I let out a long sigh, and my voice when I spoke was devoid of the judgmental overtones that had filled it before. “Can we go somewhere more comfortable? We need to talk.”

  Adam blinked as though surprised by what must have sounded almost like capitulation. Then he nodded briskly and rose to his feet, offering me a hand up. Internally wincing in case he should squeeze as hard as he had before, I took his hand and let him drag me to my feet. A quick glance at the grille showed me a Morgan-sized indentation in the middle. It looked like I was lucky not to have any broken bones.

  Adam stuffed his hands back into his pockets and continued down the street. I supposed I had no choice but to follow.

  “Are you going to tell Dom?” he asked.

  I let out my breath with a whoosh. “No.” I didn’t want to hurt Dom any more than Adam did.

  He slanted a look at me. “Are you sure?”

  It was tempting to snap out a yes, but I knew exactly what he was asking, and it was a fair question. No, I didn’t plan to tell Dominic anything. But sometimes my mouth had a tendency to run away with me, especially when my temper was roused. Might I let something slip in a moment of anger? I had the uneasy suspicion the answer was yes.

  “You should tell him yourself,” I said instead of answering the question. “There are ways he can find out other than me blabbing, and they’d all make you look far worse than you would if you just fessed up.” Adam shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  I shrugged. “Then maybe you should stop going to the goddamn club. That idea ever occurred to you?”

  Adam stopped in front of a café that billed itself as a teahouse, then pushed the door open and gestured me in. It seemed as good a place as any to talk, so I stepped inside.

  It was pleasantly quiet, with the scream of the cappuccino machine the only exception. New Age music played softly on the speaker system, and though the place was hardly empty, it wasn’t exactly hopping, either. Most of the people inside looked like tourists, here to take in the sights of South Street but needing a break from the craziness every once in a while.

  There were tables set up in the middle of the café, with a long bar lined with stools against one wall, and cozy arrangements of easy chairs in each corner. One of those corners was empty, and Adam and I made a beeline.

  “What can I get you?” he asked, indicating the line at the counter.

  “Just sit down.”

  He pointed at a sign that informed us the seating areas were for customers only, then repeated the question. He could probably pull his badge and the staff would be happy to let us sit there without buying anything, but maybe we both needed a couple minutes to cool down.

  “Just plain coffee,” I finally said. When I leaned into the soft chair, my back informed me that the bruises were well on their way to setting in.

  Adam came back before I was ready to face him again, but then that would probably have been true if he were gone for an hour. He laid my coffee, along with one cream and two sugars, on the end table between our chairs. From the scent that wafted over to me from his cup, I gathered he was drinking mint tea himself. It seemed a strange choice for a tough guy, but then people thought the froufrou drinks I ordered at bars were strange for a tough broad with a tattoo and multiple ear piercings, so who was I to judge?

  Adam took a sip of his tea as I began doctoring my coffee. When I was finished, I leaned back into the chair—more carefully this time—and waited for him to say something. It didn’t take long.

  “I don’t want to hurt Dom,” he said, staring into his tea.

  “Yeah, you said that already.”

  But he shook his head. “That’s not what I mean.” He looked up and met my eyes. “Since Saul’s been gone, I’ve come to realize that what we did together served more than one purpose. Yeah, it was a sensual pleasure, for both of us. But it turns out it was a good way for me to blow off a little steam, too.” His eyes slid away from mine once more. “I have to be so careful with Dom,” he said softly, his breath stirring the steam that rose from his cup. “If I don’t. . let loose every once in a while, I’m afraid of what might happen.”

  “Shit,” I muttered as I finally understood what he was getting at. “You really think you’d hurt Dominic if you didn’t play your little games at the club?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to find out.”

  I let out a long sigh. Obviously, Adam wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but in this one instance I suspected he wasn’t doing himself justice. “Far be it from me to suggest you have any redeeming features,” I said, “but if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’d never do that to Dom.”

  He looked up at me, obviously startled. “You really believe that?”

  “Yeah, I really believe that. I also really believe you need to talk to Dom about this. If you can convince me to cut you some slack about it, then I’m guessing you can convince him, too.”

  Adam laughed, and I could almost see the weight lifting off his shoulders. I laughed a bit, too, but for different reasons. How ridiculous was it for someone
like me to be giving relationship advice to anyone, much less to a sadistic demon?

  “Maybe you’re right,” Adam conceded when he stopped laughing. “I’ll think about it, I promise. Now tell me, what on earth were you doing in The Seven Deadlies?”

  “Good question,” I muttered under my breath, then proceeded to tell him all about my lame-ass plan to meet with Tommy. I’d drunk half my cup of coffee by the time I was through, but the jolt of caffeine didn’t make my plan sound any better.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adam shaking his head. “And what were you going to do if by some miracle he blurted out a confession?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. That had always been the weakest part of my plan.

  “That’s what I thought,” Adam said, then leaned forward in his seat, drawing my gaze. “You’re not a cop. You’re not a private investigator. You’re an exorcist. Leave this to the professionals, love.”

  Yes, he was totally right, but that didn’t stop me from bristling. “It was me Claudia Brewster hired, not you.” Well, maybe technically she didn’t hire me. I hadn’t accepted any money from her.

  Adam seemed less than impressed. “You brought the case to me for a reason, and it wasn’t because you wanted to hang out with me. Let me do my job, okay?”

  I’d have loved to argue with him if he weren’t making so much sense. Of course, being me, I wasn’t about to agree with him, either, so I just gulped more coffee instead of speaking.

  “You said we needed to talk about something,” he said when it became obvious I wasn’t planning to say anything more. “Obviously it wasn’t about this, so what’s up?”

  He’d already said he didn’t want Saul back in Dominic, but when I’d asked him, he hadn’t known that’s what Lugh wanted. I believed Lugh was right, and Adam was a good little soldier. What his king commanded, he would do, no matter how much it hurt him, or anyone else.

  I knew eventually I’d have no choice but to tell him what Lugh wanted me to. But that didn’t mean it had to be now. Lugh shot me a little headache to let me know he disapproved of my decision, but it was only a brief stab of pain. If he really wanted to show his displeasure, he could hit me with a pain so bad it could bring me to my knees.