The Devil You Know

by Jenna Black

  “Can you exorcize the demon?” Brian asked me, and I realized I’d neglected to mention to him my hard-won revelation that exorcism merely sends demons back to the Demon Realm.

  I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat as I pushed myself to my feet. “Possibly. Unfortunately, I found out from Lugh that exorcism doesn’t actually kill them. And Der Jäger has to die.”

  Der Jäger had been fixing me with a baleful, hostile glare the whole time. But when he heard my words, his eyes went wide, and an expression that looked a lot like fear crossed his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t want to hear it, so I gave him another jolt. His body convulsed with the new dose of electricity, and he couldn’t control my father’s mouth enough to form words.

  “You can’t be serious,” Brian said quietly, and I realized he’d managed to drag himself to his feet beside me.

  I didn’t answer.

  “Jesus, Morgan! That’s your father!”

  “No shit?” I retorted, in what was supposed to sound like an angry voice. I think it came out more like hysteria.

  “Surely there has to be a better way,” Brian said, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

  My heart was jackhammering again, and I swayed dizzily. How much easier it would be if I’d just let myself pass out! I could wash my hands of all responsibility. I wouldn’t have to kill my dad, and I wouldn’t have to see the horrified look in Brian’s eyes.

  I felt Lugh once again knocking on the doors of my mind, but I locked them up tight. If I could have thrown away the keys, I would have.

  “If you’ve got a better idea how to neutralize him without killing him, I’m all ears,” I heard myself saying. It was almost like I was having an out-of-body experience, my soul trying to retreat from the horrible reality of what I had to do. I kept reminding myself that my dad was long gone, buried in some deep, dark oubliette inside his own mind. Better for him to die than to live like that for the rest of his life.

  But would he live like that the rest of his life? After all, Andy had made it back, and he’d had Raphael in his head for ten years. My father couldn’t have had Der Jäger for even twenty-four hours yet. My heart thudded. It didn’t matter what he’d allowed Cooper and Neely to do to me. It didn’t matter that he’d never really loved me. It didn’t matter that he was cold and unfeeling and could be downright nasty. It didn’t even matter that he wasn’t biologically my father. He was my dad.

  Demons adhere to a strict code of morality wherein the ends justify the means. Even the nicest, kindest, gentlest of them would not hesitate to do the “right thing” in my position. But as I looked at my father sprawled on the ground with a sociopathic demon staring out of his eyes, I knew I didn’t have what it takes.

  I winced in pain as Lugh started pounding on my skull again. I wasn’t hearing his voice in my head at the moment, but I knew what he was thinking.

  “Are you all right?” Brian asked, putting his hand on my arm and peering into my face with obvious concern.

  I couldn’t imagine what expression I must have been wearing to make him look at me like that when he still thought I was about to commit patricide. I whimpered as Lugh kept up his assault.

  “You’re right,” I gasped to Brian as I tried to remember how to breathe through the pain of keeping my mental doors shut. “I can’t kill him.” In reality, I wasn’t really sure I could have done it even if the host hadn’t been my dad. Shit, what kind of person has what it takes to burn another human being alive? Not the kind of person I want to be, that’s for sure. And that was even if I could work out the logistics of how to do it without being arrested for murder.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Brian asked, and I would have been touched by the worry in his voice if I didn’t hurt so damn much.

  “Lugh is trying his best to take over. I can’t let him or he’ll take the decision out of both of our hands.” I was glad for Brian’s hands on my shoulders. I needed an anchor as the pain threatened to wash me away.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Another whimper crawled up my throat, and I wondered how long it would be before I passed out from the pain. “I’d exorcize him if Lugh would only let up, but I don’t think he’s going to. We need to get out of here before Lugh wins.”

  I twisted out of Brian’s grip, hurting too much to talk anymore. He watched me with haunted eyes. “But even if you exorcized him, he could just come back in another host, right? And he’ll come after you again.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose, not that it helped. “It doesn’t matter,” I insisted, though I knew it did. “I can’t kill my own father.” I was disoriented in the darkened woods and had no idea which direction the parking lot was, but I knew I had to get out of here soon. I couldn’t take much more.

  Picking a direction at random, I started to run. I couldn’t see worth a damn, and my head hurt so much I could barely keep my eyes open. I ran smack-dab into a tree, stumbling back a couple of steps before plunging forward again.

  Distantly, I heard Brian yelling at me to stop, but I was sure that if I stopped, I’d collapse to the ground and that would be all she wrote.

  “Please, Lugh,” I begged with the small amount of air I managed to drag into my lungs. “Please don’t do this.” But he didn’t let up, and I didn’t stop running.

  Until something slammed into my legs and I fell flat on my face.

  I kicked out blindly, and Brian cursed when my foot glanced off the side of his leg.

  “Stop it!” he shouted at me. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  “No!” I wailed as darkness seemed to be creeping into the edges of my vision. “I can’t hold him off much longer.” I tried to get up, but Brian held me down, practically sitting on me.

  “Calm down!” he said, but he didn’t exactly sound calm himself.

  “Let me go.”

  “Not until you calm down.”

  There was still an edge of panic in his voice, but I also heard implacable will. I tried to slow down my breathing, tried to do as he ordered, but the pain wouldn’t let me. I wanted to tell him exactly what was happening to me in a calm, logical manner, but my brain refused to cooperate. Instead of talking, I struggled helplessly until the effort became too much and my defenses crumpled.

  The last time Lugh had taken over my body while I was conscious, I’d had the unsettling experience of riding around in my own body without being able to move a muscle. This time was different.

  One moment, I was lying on the forest floor with Brian sitting on my ass to keep me down. The next, I was somewhere else, surrounded by inky, impenetrable darkness.

  “Lugh!” I shouted. “Don’t you dare do this!”

  Naturally, there was no response. I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face, so I stuck both hands out in front of me as I took a step.

  It only took two steps before my hands encountered what felt like a stone wall. I tried to tell myself this was good news, that I’d found a way to orient myself in the darkness. I didn’t even come close to convincing myself.

  Hand over hand, I followed that stone wall for about three more paces until I found a corner. I skimmed over the corner and continued following the wall, but my heart now beat like a frightened rabbit’s. I knew where I was, what Lugh had done to me.

  My cell seemed to be maybe seven by seven, and completely barren. Cold, damp stone comprised the four walls, and cold, damp earth the floor. When I craned my neck upward, I saw a circular opening about two stories up. Pale blue moonlight filtered through the bars that blocked that opening, but it didn’t reach even halfway down the walls before it was swallowed by the dark.

  Shivering, I crossed my arms over my chest. “You bastard,” I said, but I sounded as scared as I felt. I didn’t believe Lugh would leave me down here indefinitely. He was no doubt pissed at me for not letting him in voluntarily, but he was a lot better at letting go of his anger than I was. But even knowing my imprisonment was bo
und to be short-term, dread pooled in my gut, and my nerves vibrated as if I’d drunk about fifteen cups of coffee.

  Unable to hold still, I started pounding on one wall with the flat of my hand.

  “Lugh! Let me out of here!” Even the sound of my hand hitting the walls seemed to be swallowed by the darkness, and my voice sounded small and tinny. If this were a real place rather than a waking nightmare, the sound would have echoed.

  My hand started to hurt from the abuse, so I kicked the wall instead, my voice rising and growing thinner as panic threatened to overwhelm me.

  “Lugh!”

  But there was no answer, and the walls stayed firm and solid. I flung myself across the cell to a different wall, pounding with my fist even though I knew I was bruising the hell out of my hand. The panic was taking on a life of its own, sucking the air from the depths of the oubliette, making my lungs work doubly hard.

  The stone wall was rough and craggy, so I tried to climb it. Maybe if I were a seasoned rock climber, I would have been able to make it to the top. Probably not, though. And even if I had, the opening was barred.

  As it was, all I managed to do was break my fingernails to the quick and throw more fuel onto the fire of my panic. Desperate to escape, I rammed my shoulder into the wall as if it were a door I was intent on breaking down. Of course, it didn’t budge, and the force of my charge caused me to bang my head for good measure.

  The blow stunned me, and I staggered. My head spun, my knees weakened, and I collapsed to the cold, earthen floor.

  I lay there on my back, staring up at the faint hint of light from above, wishing I would pass out, knowing I wouldn’t. Tears dripped from the corners of my eyes, sliding down my face into my ears. My whole body was drenched with sweat, and yet I shivered incessantly, my teeth chattering loudly in the otherwise oppressive silence.

  How long would it take for me to go completely mad? Some hosts seemed to lose themselves within hours of taking on demons, but surely Lugh wouldn’t do that to me, wouldn’t destroy me so utterly in a fit of pique.

  My heart seemed to stutter in my chest. What if Lugh had miscalculated? What if he thought I could stand this for a short period of time, but he was wrong? What if he tried to free me, but he couldn’t get me out? I could spend the rest of my life down here, alone in the dark.

  Terror drove me to my feet once more, and, screaming like a maniac, I battered myself against the walls, not caring how much it hurt or how little good it seemed to do. When battering them didn’t work, I scrabbled at them with my jagged, broken fingernails, as if I could claw my way through solid stone.

  Suddenly, my limbs went completely limp, and I crumpled to the ground once more.

  Chapter 28

  When I fell, I curled myself into fetal position, desperate to escape the reality of my situation. If I’d had a blanket to pull over my head, I’d have done it.

  The first hint that I was no longer in the oubliette was the distinctive crackling sound of fire. Then I noticed the smell of smoke in the air.

  I forced my eyes open and found myself looking up at an unmarked police car, its bubble light streaking the scene with flashes of red. Adam moved into my line of vision, standing beside me to peer at my face.

  “I’ll give you a hand up when you’re ready,” he said, and I could have sworn that was sympathy I saw on his face. “Take it slow.”

  I closed my eyes again and sucked in a deep breath, but the smoke smell made me wish I hadn’t. From what I could tell, my real body was uninjured, despite all the damage I’d done to myself in the oubliette. I wasn’t even sweating or shivering, though my stomach wasn’t feeling too happy, and I felt like I could lie here for a week and be perfectly content not to move.

  Letting out the deep breath, I opened my eyes and held out my hand. One corner of Adam’s mouth lifted in a lopsided grin.

  “Never one to take it slow, are you, love?”

  My only answer was a soft snort. He took my hand and hauled me to my feet, steadying me when I swayed. In the distance, I heard the sound of sirens.

  We were standing by the side of the road. A few yards from us, the guardrail was twisted and broken, and at the bottom of the embankment, a burning car lay wrapped around an old oak tree. A little past the gap in the guardrail sat my own car, its bumper dragging on the ground amidst a smattering of broken glass and streaks of burned rubber. Brian stood by the car, staring down at the fire below.

  My stomach threatened to revolt, but I swallowed hard. “I gather my dad was ‘driving’ that car?” I said, jerking my chin toward the fire.

  Adam nodded. “He must have fallen asleep at the wheel. He was in the wrong lane, and when Brian honked at him, he swerved and lost control of his car.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You were asleep in the passenger seat when it happened, so you didn’t see a thing.”

  “Uh-huh.” The sirens were getting closer. “The fire trucks will be too late to save him?”

  Adam put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, and I was so desperate for comfort that I didn’t object.

  I watched Brian watch the flames below. He didn’t turn to look at me, though he must have known I was myself again. I couldn’t interpret the look on his face, though it most definitely wasn’t a happy one.

  Had Lugh overpowered him and forced him to participate in my father’s murder? Or had Brian held me down with the sole purpose of letting Lugh win our battle and take over? If it was the latter, I didn’t know Brian as well as I thought I did.

  The next hour or two passed in a blur. I could barely string two coherent thoughts together, so when I heard Brian describe the accident to the cops, all I could manage was to nod my agreement. When one of the cops started pushing me to tell him what I thought had happened, I kept repeating that I’d been asleep and hadn’t seen anything until he was finally convinced he wasn’t going to get anything out of me.

  Brian came to stand beside me as we waited for permission to get the hell out of there. Neither of us looked at the other as he reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a voice soft enough not to carry.

  I didn’t ask him for what. I extricated my hand from his. “You killed my father.”

  He didn’t look at me. “No, I didn’t.”

  “But you helped.”

  He let out a shuddering sigh and met my gaze. Horror and pain swam in his eyes, but his voice was firm and sure. “You would have gotten yourself killed if I hadn’t. I had to choose between you and your father. I chose you.”

  Who was this man who stood beside me? Was he the same man who’d gone ape shit over the death of Dr. Neely? He was the law-abiding citizen, the goody-two-shoes who always did the right thing. For Christ’s sake, he was the lawyer who hated lying!

  I couldn’t deal with the paradox that was the man I’d thought I’d known, so I put some distance between us and nagged the cops to let me go home. Eventually, they did, after Adam pulled off my bumper so it wouldn’t drag. The car was driveable, and I promised I’d get it to the shop tomorrow. I didn’t offer to give Brian a ride home.

  I probably wasn’t the safest driver on the road that night. Luckily, it was late and the streets nearly deserted, because I had barely a tenth of my concentration on the road. My brain was on betrayal overload, although both my betrayers tonight had no doubt thought they were doing the right thing.

  I shook that thought off as soon as it crossed my mind. Killing Der Jäger might have been the right thing, and I could excuse Brian’s methods even if I couldn’t forgive them. But Lugh hadn’t had to put me in that damned oubliette, no matter how pissed off he might have been!

  I had to keep you from breaking my control, his voice whispered in my mind. I didn’t do it to hurt you.

  I almost rammed into a parked car. “Shut the fuck up!” I snarled. For once, he actually listened to me.

  My intention had been to go home, crawl into bed, and sleep for as long as I could manage to stay
unconscious. Usually, the more miserable I am, the more desperately I want to be alone. But just this once, I couldn’t stand the idea of being alone with my thoughts. I knew Andy hadn’t forgiven me for siccing Adam on him, but there was no one else I could go to for comfort just now.

  It was almost three in the morning by the time I reached his apartment, but there was light shining under his door. I knocked softly, hoping not to wake any of the other residents.

  He answered the door quickly enough to let me know he hadn’t been asleep, though he was dressed in pajamas and had a bad case of bed-head. He ushered me into his apartment without a word, which was a good thing because I couldn’t think of anything to say.

  He disappeared into the kitchen, then returned carrying two glasses with a couple fingers of amber liquid apiece. I made a face because I hated the taste of hard liquor, but I took the glass when he handed it to me. We both drained the contents in a single gulp, though I coughed and sputtered for about ten minutes afterward.

  When I finally had the air to speak again, I stared at the glass in my hands and asked, “Did Adam call you about…?”

  I heard the sound of his glass clinking on the coffee table, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the single drop of liquid that remained in the bottom of mine.

  “Yeah.” Andy’s voice sounded hoarse, either from sleep, from grief, or from hard liquor.

  A tear rolled down my cheek and dripped into my glass. Andy gently pried the glass from my fingers, then put an arm around my shoulders. That was all the encouragement I needed to let down my guard, to let my grief and pain batter and buffet me. He held me and rocked me, the perfect big brother even though he must have been grief-stricken himself. After all, he’d never had the problems I’d had with our father, and had always been closer to him than I had.

  “Tell me the whole story,” he urged when the storm seemed close to subsiding.