by Jenna Black
Dom looked distinctly uncomfortable. “No, of course not. But it doesn’t do anyone any good to dwell on that.”
My temper is prickly at the best of times, and a low simmer started in my veins. “You think it’s best for Adam’s host if you and Adam don’t dwell on the fact that he’s there?”
My voice had risen only a little, but Dom’s stepmother peeked out from the kitchen anyway. I think she was hoping to have a front-row seat for my eviction from the restaurant, but even though Dom’s back was to the kitchen, he seemed to know she was there. He glared over his shoulder at her, reinforcing his message with words that I’m sure meant “Mind your own business” in Italian.
The little distraction gave me a moment to rein in my temper. “Sorry,” I said to Dom when he turned to face me again. “You know me—I get bitchy when I’m uncomfortable.”
Anger still flushed his cheeks, but he managed to smile. “And when you’re scared. And when you’re sick. And when—”
“I get the point,” I said, but I couldn’t help laughing a bit. It didn’t last long, though. “I guess the upshot of all this is that you and Adam haven’t really worked everything out into some neat agreement that I can try to emulate with Brian.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I think we are all comfortable with how things have worked out.”
“Yeah, and that’s why you started squirming when I brought it up.”
“No relationship is perfect. So yeah, sometimes I think it’s awkward that Adam’s host is there and it’s easier for me pretend he isn’t. But that’s just part of the territory when your lover is a demon. I’m not going to give Adam up just because he’s not alone in that body.”
I leaned back in my chair, unreasonably frustrated that Dom couldn’t solve my romantic difficulties with a few well-chosen words.
“Look,” Dom said, leaning forward to keep the same distance between us, “I can’t tell you how to work things out with Brian and Lugh. Your situation is different, after all.” He grinned. “Adam’s host isn’t putting the moves on me, and if the two of them have anything romantic or sexual going on between them, I don’t know about it and I don’t want to. Adam’s host has, for the most part, recused himself from his mortal life. Lugh is very much front and center, even though you’re usually in control of your body. You and Lugh are more separate from each other than Adam and his host are.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Now I was depressed enough that even the delicious food wasn’t enough to cheer me up. I pushed aside my half-eaten dinner and wondered if I wouldn’t have been better off staying home. This conversation reminded me there was a reason I didn’t usually share my troubles with anyone. I know some people find it helpful and comforting, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why. It never seems to solve anything. At least, not for me.
Dom glanced at the plate I’d set aside, and I was pretty sure he was about to either nag me to eat more or ask what was wrong with my dinner, but I was saved by a loud knock on the front door.
“Police! Open up!” Adam’s voice announced.
Dominic groaned softly. “Oh, shit. I don’t want to do this now.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing. Dom looked comically chagrined, but he’d already said there was only so long he could keep his stepmother and Adam from meeting.
“At least I’m here to referee,” I said cheerfully as Adam banged on the door again—drawing the attention of the entire staff.
Dominic gave me a baleful look as he stood up and trudged toward the front door.
“Go back to work,” he instructed his staff, and most of them ducked back into the kitchen. Not his stepmother, though.
Adam looked like he had just come from work, though I bet he was the best-dressed cop in the entire Philly police department. He’d ditched his tie and unbuttoned the first couple buttons of his dress shirt, but his pinstriped trousers fit like they’d been custom-tailored, and the sport jacket he carried over one arm probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
Damn, he looked good. But then, he always did. Demons tend to favor residing in attractive hosts, and when you paired that hunky host with a bad-boy demon, the result was basically sex on legs.
Adam invited himself in and draped his jacket over the hostess stand. Then, before Dominic could get a word in, Adam grabbed him, pulled him close, and planted a wet, showy kiss on his mouth. Dom tried to pull away, but if a demon has hold of you and doesn’t want to let go, you aren’t going anywhere. Dom’s stepmother put a hand to her chest as if she were about to have a heart attack. There was a bit of a gleam in Adam’s eyes as he gave her a visual once-over, and I realized that particularly exuberant display of affection had been for her benefit.
“Asshole,” Dominic muttered when his mouth was no longer occupied, giving Adam a halfhearted shove on the shoulder.
Adam made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Watch your language, or I’m going to have to teach you a lesson later.”
Dom’s face went beet red, and the glare he shot his lover was obviously genuine—and heartfelt. “Don’t,” he said tightly. “Not here; not now.”
It’s not all that easy to make Dom angry, but there was no question he was pissed off right now. Obviously he’d mentioned to Adam that his stepmother might be a problem, and Adam had decided to stage a confrontation at his own convenience.
It never ceases to amaze me that Adam, whose name should be in the dictionary beside the word “hard-ass,” will actually back down to Dom, but I’d seen it happen on more than one occasion. Adam held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and though he didn’t verbally apologize, the apology was in his body language and his facial expression.
The damage, however, was done. Dom’s stepmother—who I knew from her first few words to me was perfectly capable of speaking English—said something angry and accusatory-sounding in Italian. She was fingering her crucifix again. Dominic answered in kind, complete with expansive hand gestures. He was Italian by heritage only, but from the way he was talking and gesticulating now, I could almost convince myself he’d just flown in from Italy yesterday.
Dom’s stepmother whirled and slammed the kitchen doors open. Without a look at either Adam or me, Dominic ran to follow her. I couldn’t tell if he was following to continue their argument, or whether he was hoping to appease her. All I knew was he wasn’t happy.
“Nice work,” I said to Adam with a grimace of distaste.
He took that as an invitation to come join me at the table. “Dom’s been tap-dancing his way around this for two weeks,” he said as he grabbed my leftover risotto and pulled it to his side of the table. “I didn’t think putting it off was doing anyone any favors.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. I considered Adam to be something that at least bore a mild resemblance to a friend, but no one could ever accuse me of liking him.
“You should have left that up to Dom,” I said.
Adam shoved a fork full of cold risotto into his mouth and chewed vigorously before answering. “If I’d left it up to Dom, he’d have ended up being the bad guy in his wicked stepmother’s book. This way, I get to be the bad guy. It won’t make things go smoothly for him, but it might make the bumps in the road a little smaller.”
One of the reasons Adam so often rubs me the wrong way is that he does these totally obnoxious things, then manages to explain them away so that I end up feeling he’s right.
“Help yourself to my risotto,” I said, because I refused to acknowledge that he might have a point.
“Don’t mind if I do,” he said around another mouthful. “I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” he continued. “Anything wrong?”
I almost laughed. I might feel comfortable confiding in Dominic, but Adam was a very different story.
“Nothing I plan on sharing with you.”
“You cut me to the quick.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” But as I sat across from Adam, resentfully watching him polish off the last of my di
nner, it occurred to me that there was something I should discuss with him.
“Shae paid me a visit today,” I said.
Adam’s jaw visibly tightened, but that didn’t stop him from scooping the last few grains of rice onto his fork and eating them. He and Shae had a history, and it wasn’t a very nice one. Since he was the Director of Special Forces, he’d had to deal with Shae in her role as informant on a regular basis. Shae had always resented him for it, and whenever she had a chance, she lashed out at him. I was almost surprised she hadn’t met with an unfortunate accident yet. But then Adam was one of the good guys, so he only murdered people if it was for a good cause, not just because they pissed him off.
Dom’s stepmother burst out of the kitchen, her head held high while her eyes gleamed with tears. She sneered at Adam, ignored me, then stomped out the front door. Dom had followed her out of the kitchen, but he stayed inside the restaurant, his head bowed so that I couldn’t see his face. I suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here. If Adam and Dom were about to have a lovers’ quarrel, I didn’t want a front-row seat.
“Well, I’d better get going,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. It didn’t come off sounding like a smooth exit line, but I wasn’t a good enough actress to hide my spike of discomfort.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Adam said, grabbing me by my wrist. “First you need to tell me what Shae wanted with you.”
“Um …” I responded intelligently, my eyes fixed on Dominic. Tension screamed in his shoulders, reminding me again that I wanted out. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” I tried to pull my arm from Adam’s grip, but I wasn’t going anywhere unless he allowed it.
Adam followed my gaze to Dom and shook his head. “You can yell at me later,” he said to Dom. “We have all night for that.”
Dom finally raised his head, and the expression on his face wasn’t one of anger. I winced at the pain in his eyes. I knew what it was like to be scorned by my own family. Unfortunately, I didn’t know any words that would take the pain away.
“Fuck,” Adam muttered under his breath. He let go of my wrist, stood up, and gathered Dom into a hug. Dom didn’t return it, his arms held stiffly to his sides, his fists clenched. But I knew how much he loved Adam, and I knew the two of them would work it out.
Swallowing a lump of unreasonable envy that had gathered in my throat, I slipped away from the table and out the door. Neither Dom nor Adam seemed to notice me leaving. So I ended up leaving Dom’s restaurant feeling even worse than I had when I’d come in.
That’s what I got for trying to open up and talk about my problems.
four
IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT, AND I WAS IN MY PJS, WHEN the front desk called to let me know I had a visitor. Adam, of course. I should have known he’d come after me once he’d done his best to make Dom feel better. In the old days, I’d have told the desk not to let him up. But then Adam would pull his badge and pretend he was on official police business, so it did me no good.
“Send him up,” I said with a sigh of resignation.
I didn’t feel like changing into respectable clothing, so I merely covered my PJs with my disreputable robe and waited.
It took the better part of forever for Adam to make it to my twenty-seventh-floor apartment, seeing as our elevators are so slow it was arguably faster to walk. I opened the door before he had a chance to knock, having heard the ding that signaled the elevator’s arrival. He raised an eyebrow at my outfit.
“Did I get you out of bed?”
I’d have loved to lay a guilt trip on him, but I doubted he’d feel guilty, so it wasn’t worth the bother of trying. “Nah. I was still up.” I opened the door wide enough to let him in, and Adam headed for my couch without any further invitation. He plopped down heavily and ran a hand through his short-cropped hair.
“How’s Dom?” I asked as I sat cross-legged on the love seat.
Adam waggled his hand in the gesture for “so-so.” “I tried to talk him out of reconnecting with his family once Saul was exorcized, but he didn’t listen to me.”
“It’s his family,” I protested. “You can’t seriously expect him to just cut them off.” A funny protest coming from someone who had as many family troubles as I did, but I knew how strong family bonds could be, even when you could barely stand one another.
“Why not? My host severed ties with his family even before he became a host.”
Adam had told me about this before. His host had come out of the closet when he’d turned eighteen, and his family had been so appalled that they’d kicked him out. And, as far as I knew, they hadn’t spoken to him since.
“Not everyone’s that much of a homophobe,” I said.
Adam shrugged. “You saw the expression on that harpy’s face. And she’s probably the most accepting of them. After all, she wanted to help out in the restaurant, as long as she could live in the land of denial and pretend Dom and I were ‘just friends.’” He shook his head in disgust. “I simply can’t understand why you humans are so hung up on this sexual orientation thing.”
I remembered the crucifix Dom’s stepmother had fingered. “I’m guessing they’re old-school Catholics. According to Catholicism, homosexuality is a sin. If she thinks he’s going to burn in Hell forever because of his lifestyle, then …”
“Don’t get me started on religion,” he said grimly. “I understand that even less.”
Despite all the contact I had with demons, despite the fact that I should know better by now, I still sometimes found myself thinking about them as if they really were human. They are similar to humans in so many ways that it’s easy to forget that they’re not.
“Demons don’t practice religion?” I asked, curious despite myself.
Adam shook his head. “No. My host has tried to explain it to me, but he was never religious himself, so his understanding isn’t so great.”
I held up my hands. “Don’t look at me for an explanation. I was brought up in a Spirit Society household.” The Spirit Society practically worships demons, but they’ve never gone so far as to declare demons deities. Perhaps it’s a religion in its own right—actually, in my opinion it’s more like a cult—but since it had failed to indoctrinate me, I can’t say I have that great an understanding of it.
I was in danger of having a nonessential conversation with Adam—something I tried to avoid at all costs—but I was saved by Adam’s sudden change of subject.
“It’s late and I want to get back home. Tell me why Shae came to see you.”
So I told him everything, watching his face carefully for a reaction, but I could read nothing in his expression. Despite his distaste for Shae, Adam was a member of The Seven Deadlies, and I knew he still visited there on occasion to satisfy some of his more dangerous urges with demons who could heal whatever damage he caused. Dom wasn’t exactly happy with the arrangement, but he seemed to have accepted it as necessary, knowing that Adam was not having sex with his playmates at the club.
“Have you noticed an increase in illegal demons at the club?” I asked.
Adam shook his head. “I don’t go there as a cop—unless I’m meeting Shae. I don’t socialize there, either. I try to get in and out as fast as I can. But the next time I’m there, I’ll pay attention. And I’ll do some discreet inquiries at work, see if there’s any rumbling on the street about people ‘disappearing.’”
“What do you think it means, if Shae is right?”
His expression was troubled. “Nothing good.”
“Yeah, that much I figured out on my own.”
“I don’t have enough information to be making guesses, but I’ll make one anyway. Dougal’s got to know that Lugh won’t stay in hiding forever. Even if Dougal’s abandoned his quest to kill Lugh, he can still take advantage of Lugh’s absence.”
I followed Adam’s line of thought easily. “By sending more of his supporters to the Mortal Plain.”
Adam nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. There are a limited number of wi
lling hosts available, so maybe he’s institutionalized a program to funnel demons into unwilling hosts.”
“Using people from the fringes of society so no one will kick up a fuss. Or possibly even notice.” Adam nodded again, and I shivered in a phantom chill. The more I thought about this, the less I liked it. “And if that’s really what’s going on, what are the chances it’s only happening in Philadelphia?”
Adam didn’t have to answer that, because we both knew the answer was zilch.
“Just how many demons are there who want to come to the Mortal Plain?” I asked.
He met my eyes with a steady stare. “Enough that the waiting list is decades long.”
“That’s a lot,” I muttered, wondering how many of these demons had managed to come to the Mortal Plain in the months that we on Lugh’s council had been growing complacent. Sure, we knew that eventually we were going to have to take some kind of action against Dougal. His original plan had been to use Lugh’s True Name to summon him into a host who would be immediately burned at the stake. Raphael had foiled the plan by summoning Lugh into me, but Lugh could not afford to return to the Demon Realm while Dougal and his followers had his True Name, or the original plan would go into effect again. Since I’m not immortal, Lugh will have to go back to the Demon Realm eventually, and if we haven’t wiped out every trace of the coup by then, his goose is cooked. So to speak.
With Lugh in residence I was likely to live to a ripe old age, so there had been no great urgency to find a solution. But if Dougal really had created some kind of illegal pipeline onto the Mortal Plain—if it wasn’t just some localized anomaly—then we needed to get our act together and soon.
As king of the Demon Realm, Lugh should know the True Name of every demon who had earned one. If theory were reality, we could simply use Dougal’s own strategy against him. However, in a moment of naivete, when Lugh had ascended to the throne, he’d tried to reconcile with his brothers by not forcing them to reveal their True Names. Ah, the famed twenty-twenty hindsight!
