The Devil's Due mk-3

by Jenna Black

  “In the mood for a nice car chase?”

  I bit my lip, tempted to agree. We could get into the car and put the pedal to the metal faster than Barbie could get back into hers. Maybe we’d be able to lose her immediately. But maybe not.

  I sighed heavily. “I don’t think drawing that much attention to ourselves would be a great idea,” I said. “We’ll just have to get rid of her somehow.”

  “I’m sure we’ll manage something.”

  I glanced at him sidelong and shivered. I didn’t like the way he was looking at Reporter Barbie, but before I had a chance to warn him to behave, she’d caught up to us.

  Barbie smiled, looking for all the world like she expected me to be happy to see her.

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police and report you as a stalker,” I growled at her.

  She blinked. “There’s no need to be so hostile. I’m just doing my job.”

  Ah, yes, the excuse of sleazy reporters everywhere. Not that I had any reason to believe Barbara What’s- Her-Name was a sleazy reporter. She hadn’t really done anything that obnoxious—yet—and not all reporters are sleazy. Just like Brian reminds me every once in a while that not all lawyers are sleazy. But old stereotypes die hard, especially when they’re in the process of inconveniencing me.

  “I’m not answering your questions, so go do your job elsewhere.”

  Barbie’s glance flicked to Raphael, who was doing a great job of mimicking Tommy’s sullen look. Then she looked back at me and raised her eyebrows. “You seem to have become exorcist to the rich and famous. Care to comment?”

  I’d forgotten that Tommy’s father was old money, putting him in the same league as good ol’ Jordan Maguire Jr. Crap. I imagined this would be a fascinating coincidence to anyone with a journalistic mind.

  “I’m a legal, registered demon,” Raphael said calmly. “And clearly Ms. Kingsley is not exorcizing me or we’d be in the basement of the courthouse and I’d be in lots and lots of restraints.”

  I wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Engaging Reporter Barbie in conversation of any kind was a bad idea. But too late now.

  “But there were some questions that arose at the time of your summoning. Claudia Brewster alleges that you have taken her son against his will. And I know that she has hired Ms. Kingsley to look into the case.”

  This was just getting better and better. I knew denying it wasn’t going to do any good, but my reflexes kicked in. “She didn’t hire me to do anything.” I sounded pissed even to my own ears, which was not a good thing. It let Barbie know she was getting to me, which would just make her more curious. I made a concerted effort to calm my voice. “She consulted with me to see if I could find any evidence that Tommy was taken against his will. I told her I couldn’t, and that was that.”

  “Then what business do you have with Mr. Brewster at the moment?”

  A perfectly logical question—and evidence that I’d been right in my conviction that both Raphael and I should keep quiet.

  I was still struggling to find an answer when Raphael took a step forward, invading Barbie’s personal space. His new host wasn’t quite as tall or imposing as most demon hosts, but he was able to look down on her from a significant height advantage.

  “Our business is none of your business, Ms. . ?” “Paige,” she supplied. “Barbara Paige. I work for the—”

  “I don’t care who you work for.” Raphael’s voice was outwardly calm, but still intimidating as hell. “You’re getting on my nerves, and that isn’t in your best interests.”

  Raphael radiated so much menace any sane person would have tucked her tail between her legs and bolted. Barbie apparently wasn’t sane. She held her ground, and didn’t even look particularly uneasy.

  “I don’t think threatening me is in your best interests, Mr. Brewster.” She put her fists on her hips and met his glower with a blandly calm expression.

  Raphael blinked, startled that she’d called his bluff. He stared at her for a moment, then looked over at me.

  “Get in the car,” he said.

  It sounded suspiciously like an order, which of course made me want to dig in my heels and refuse. Common sense prevailed, however, and I turned my back on Barbie and opened the door. Raphael had already gotten in, and Barbie had started running back to her car. Luckily, she was wearing businesslike pumps that weren’t optimal running shoes.

  Raphael stomped on the gas pedal before I even managed to close the door behind myself. He peeled out of the parking lot with a squeal of rubber, the car jouncing hard over one of Philly’s ubiquitous potholes. I struggled to get my seat belt on as he blew through a red light.

  The expression on his face was grim, and he didn’t slow down, even when I looked back over my shoulder and told him I didn’t see Barbie’s car following us.

  “Take it down a notch,” I said, bracing my hands on the dashboard as another pothole threatened to break the POS into bite-sized pieces. “We’ve lost her, and I doubt she’s going to be willing to break as many traffic laws as you are.”

  “She’s not a reporter,” he said, screeching the car around a corner.

  “What?”

  “She’s not a reporter,” he repeated. “I was thinking it was strange that she was being so aggressive over such a nothing story. I thought it was even stranger that she didn’t bat an eyelash when I started crowding her.” His lips thinned. “Then when she put her hands on her hips, I got a glimpse of a shoulder holster under her jacket.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know who she is, or what she wants, but I’d say staying away from her is a really good idea.”

  “I agree,” I said as my stomach decided it objected to the rough handling it was getting as we bounced and rocked down the street at warp speed. “But if you don’t slow down, we’re going to get stopped for speeding, and that could give her time to catch up with us.”

  To my immense relief, the car slowed to near the speed limit. But I couldn’t help noticing he kept a watchful eye on the rearview mirror as we made our way out of town.

  CHAPTER 26

  Devon and Claudia Brewster lived out past the Main Line, which marks the boundary between the city and the suburbs. Their neighborhood was chic and obviously expensive. Most cars were discreetly tucked away in garages, but those that weren’t tended toward the Mercedes and BMW end of the luxury scale. I wondered whether Tommy drove a POS because his parents were cheap, or because it was some kind of fashion statement. Of course, the way he usually dressed, he’d have looked like a car thief behind the wheel of a Mercedes. Raphael’s outfit of well-worn jeans borrowed from Adam and navy blue sweatshirt borrowed from Dominic looked like black-tie attire compared to Tommy’s usual wardrobe. I hoped that wouldn’t make the bad guys suspicious.

  “That’s the house,” Raphael said, pointing briefly before pulling the car to the curb two houses down. He left the engine running, but put the car in park and turned to face me. He surprised me by reaching out to grab my wrist. If I’d had an inkling he’d been about to touch me, I’d have been out of the car before he’d moved five inches.

  “Let go of me!” I said, giving my hand a yank for emphasis. Of course, he didn’t let go. “What are you doing?” Did I mention I didn’t trust Raphael one bit?

  He grinned at me. “I’m keeping you from bolting if you don’t like my next suggestion.”

  “I already don’t like it. Now get your hands off me or things’ll get ugly.”

  “Let Lugh surface.”

  I jerked on my hand again, but when a demon’s got a grip on you, you aren’t getting free. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”

  “Yes, it was. I just didn’t mention it before.”

  Raphael had hold of my left hand, but I’m right-handed. I reached for the Taser that was strapped to my belly with adhesive tape, where it was hidden by my oversized sweatshirt. Another loaner from Adam. Raphael grabbed my right hand before I got to the Taser.

  �
��What if they don’t buy it, Morgan?” he asked. “What if we get down into that basement, and they figure out I’m not Tommy’s original demon? I can mimic Tommy just fine since I have access to his mind, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to what his demon was doing in the real world to give me any clue who his allies are. We’ll go down there, and everyone will expect me to recognize my so-called friends.”

  My heart sank, and some of the fight went out of me. He was right, damn him. There were plenty of ways this rescue attempt could go wrong. And puny human me wouldn’t be much help in a fight against demons.

  “You’ve had trouble letting him in in the past,” Raphael continued, “even in extenuating circumstances. Do you want all hell to break loose in there and then find out you can’t let him in? Or would you rather go in there prepared?”

  “You can let go of me now,” I said, in what I hoped was a calm voice. “You’re right, and I have to find a way to let him in. It’s just. . I haven’t had much success.”

  Raphael let go of my right hand, but kept hold of my left. I guess he didn’t trust me any more than I trusted him. I was sure he was keeping a careful watch on me in case I went for the Taser again.

  “You let him in the other night when I woke you up.”

  I grimaced. “Yeah, but I’d already let him in while I was sleeping. All I had to do was keep the doors open.”

  “So try to do the same thing now. Try to do whatever it was you did when you kept the doors open.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Would you rather I clock you and let him take over while you’re unconscious?”

  The grimace turned into a scowl. He was right-handed, too, and his right hand was busy holding on to me. However, I didn’t doubt he could turn my lights out just as easily with his left.

  “Bastard,” I mumbled.

  “Your choice.”

  “Fine! I’ll try to let him in. Don’t you dare hit me!” He didn’t say anything, and I knew he’d do whatever he damn well pleased. This wasn’t what I’d call the optimal situation for achieving the kind of relaxation I thought I’d need to let Lugh take control. Especially since Raphael still had hold of me and wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

  “Close your eyes,” Raphael said. “Try pretending you’re going into the trance state.”

  “I don’t suppose you carry vanilla candles with you?” I said, but I closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat, trying to ignore the disquieting feel of his hand on my wrist.

  I drew in a deep breath and told myself that the scent of vanilla filled the air, and that the orange glow that lit my eyelids was a plethora of candles, not a streetlamp. Sometimes, I can lie to myself with great skill, like when Lugh first possessed me and I tried to deny all the evidence that I wasn’t alone in my body anymore. I seemed to have lost my touch, however, because I remained very much aware that I was sitting in a car in the middle of the night with a man I didn’t trust, trying to let a demon take control of my body.

  Frustration curled my fingers into fists. I didn’t want Raphael hitting me! It probably wouldn’t really hurt, because I probably wouldn’t be conscious long enough to register the pain, but I’d been beat up enough lately.

  “Visualize what you did with Tommy tonight,” Raphael said in what I’m sure was supposed to be a hypnotic voice.

  I cracked one eye open to look at him. “Do me a favor and shut up. Hearing your voice does not relax me.”

  He shut up, and I closed my eye again. Despite the fact that I’d grumped at him, I actually did as Raphael suggested and mentally took myself through the events of earlier tonight. I visualized arranging those vanilla-scented candles in a circle around Tommy, then remembered what it had felt like to light each one. Adam and Dom didn’t have a lighter, so I’d been forced to use matches.

  The sensory memory became stronger, and I remembered the acrid after-scent of burning matches and smoke. I sat my imaginary self down across from Tommy, closed my imaginary eyes, and took a very real deep breath. If I didn’t know I was making this all up in my head, I would have sworn I caught the scent of vanilla.

  The orange glow faded from behind my closed lids, and my otherworldly eyes opened. Beside me glowed Raphael’s crimson aura. I’d done it! I’d reached the trance state. Now all I had to do was let Lugh in.

  I felt tension building in my muscles as I contemplated opening those mental doors, and before I even had the chance to try, my eyes popped open. I tried to curse in frustration, but my mouth wouldn’t open and my throat wouldn’t form the words.

  Raphael smiled. “How kind of you to join us, brother,” he said.

  I snorted. Actually, Lugh snorted. I tried not to panic.

  I hadn’t opened my doors yet! I protested to Lugh. “Your defenses go down almost entirely when you’re in the trance,” Lugh responded, using my own vocal cords to speak to me. Have I mentioned how much I hate it when he does that?

  So anytime I do an exorcism, you can just waltz on in? He didn’t answer, but then he didn’t need to.

  I really like Lugh. I think he has a good heart, and I admire his ideals. He can be a good friend, when he wants to be. But he is one manipulative son of a bitch. Always for a good cause, but still. .

  Were you ever planning to mention this little tidbit to me?

  “Not if I didn’t have to.” Well, at least he was honest, unlike his brother.

  “Are you talking to me? Because if you are, you’re making no sense,” Raphael said.

  “I was talking to Morgan. But it’s time for us to go rescue a couple of children, don’t you think?”

  Raphael nodded. “You and me playing hero together. Who would have believed it?”

  Not me, I said, still fighting my subconscious, which really wanted to kick Lugh out and take control of my body again. Raphael is up to something. There is no way he’d have been so all-fired eager to put on the white hat.

  I know, Lugh agreed, keeping the conversation just between the two of us for now. He’s my brother, remember? He might not be quite so bad as I once thought, but I know rescuing children isn’t one of his major goals in life.

  Do you have any idea what he’s up to?

  Raphael started the car, heading toward the driveway of the Brewster residence.

  I think your guess before was right. I think he knows more about the Houston project than he’s saying, and I think he wanted Tommy Brewster as a host very, very badly. Any pretense at an urgent need to save the children was just a way to get you to agree to let him take Tommy.

  Alarm trickled through my system. But he’s going to go through with the plan, right? He’s not going to drop the pretense now.

  He’ll go through with it, Lugh assured me, and his mental voice held more than a hint of steel.

  It sounded like there was a threat behind his words, but I didn’t think it did much good if Raphael didn’t hear it. Still, we were pulling into the driveway, and if Raphael were planning to back out, he would have done it by now. At least, I hoped that was the case.

  It was almost midnight, but there were plenty of lights on in the Brewster house. I suppose it’s hard to sleep when there are demons holding children hostage in your basement. Raphael parked in front of the garage, the car coming to a stop with a squeal that set my teeth on edge. Before we got out, Raphael reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I was pretty sure those were the same ones Adam had offered earlier. Shows how much good my refusal did.

  We’re not going down there in handcuffs! I protested.

  I can break out of them easily, Lugh reminded me.

  Yeah, but what if I lose my nerve and end up back in the driver’s seat? I can’t break them.

  Then don’t lose your nerve.

  I wanted to strangle him, but my body was useless to me. Lugh allowed his brother to cuff his hands behind his back. Raphael then grabbed my arm in a brutally tight grip, stuck a gun in my side—had he been carrying that all along? — and dragged me toward the
side door, where there was less light.

  My body’s heart was thumping along steadily, pulse not even elevated. But that didn’t stop me from feeling like my heart was in my throat, making it hard to breathe.

  Raphael moved the gun from my side to my head, then let go of my arm to fish through his jeans pocket for a set of keys and open the door. Instead of escorting me in, he grabbed my arm again and threw me in so hard I crashed into the trunk of one of the Brewsters’ Mercedes. Lugh considerately blocked out the pain. With his demon strength and agility, he probably could have kept his feet, but since he was pretending to be just little ol’ me, he keeled over sideways.

  Who the hell is he putting on a show for? I complained, wishing Lugh would turn his head so I could give Raphael the dirty look he deserved. There’s no one here to see!

  Perhaps he’s getting into character, Lugh’s mental voice said, a hint of humor in it. Or perhaps that was just a cheap shot because he and I still have issues. It doesn’t matter. I won’t allow him to hurt you, and I can tolerate the pain.

  You’re not one of those demons who enjoys pain? I asked, then mentally slapped myself upside the head. Like we needed a distraction right now! And like I really needed to know Lugh’s sexual preferences!

  Not particularly, he answered, though I’d have preferred he just ignore the question. But as I said, I can tolerate it. Even if things get a lot rougher.

  Oh joy! I didn’t want to think about things getting rougher.

  Raphael hauled me to my feet. Lugh swayed back and forth as if woozy from the impact with the car. Raphael didn’t give us much time to recover, grabbing my arm again and half-dragging me through a laundry room and into the main house. He had to pause to enter a code in the alarm, but with Tommy’s memories at his fingertips, that was a piece of cake.

  The laundry room opened out into the kitchen, which then opened into an enormous, two-story living room with a cathedral ceiling and a chandelier so high off the ground you’d need an oxygen tank to change the bulbs.

  Claudia Brewster sat on the uncomfortable-looking antique sofa. She’d traded in the power suit for a velour tracksuit, her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she wore no makeup. It would be the relaxed, weekend-at-home look, if it weren’t for the tension in her shoulders, the bloodshot eyes, or the blue-gray shadows beneath them.