“I don’t understand?” He shook me, rattling my teeth. “I’m a passenger in your body. I can read your thoughts. I understand exactly what you did. I understand that you were angry with yourself for allowing him to hurt her, and that you took your anger out on him in the worst possible way.”
I had to close my eyes again, couldn’t face Lugh’s anger, couldn’t face what I’d done.
Because, of course, Lugh was right.
He let go of my throat, and even with my eyes closed I knew he’d moved away, though I hadn’t heard any footsteps. My back slid down the wall until my butt hit the floor. Eyes still closed, I touched a hand to my throat to see if he’d left bruises. It seemed not.
When I gathered enough courage to open my eyes again, I saw that he’d conjured a wing chair out of nowhere and was sitting on the very edge of it about ten feet away. His eyes still glowed, and his posture was still stiff and angry, but at least he’d given me some breathing room.
My voice came out weak and breathy when I spoke. “If you know my thoughts, then you know how sorry I am for what I did. If I could take it back, I would. But I’m only human. And watching him kill Val, hearing him tell me that he could even kill Dominic and not feel bad about it, was one too many shocks to absorb. I cracked.”
A little bit of the tension eased out of Lugh’s shoulders, and I thought his eyes glowed a little less brightly. “Adam has not often walked the Mortal Plain,” he said. Thank God he wasn’t growling anymore. The sound had been more disturbing than I wanted to admit.
“He realizes that humans don’t understand demons very well,” Lugh continued. “He doesn’t realize that the reverse is also true.”
If psychoanalyzing Adam would have a calming effect on Lugh, I was all for it. “What do you mean?”
“What he said to you was foolish, a tactical error. And you don’t entirely understand what he meant.”
“And you do.”
He shrugged. Yes, the glow in his eyes was definitely dying down. Hallelujah!
“I’m a demon, so yes, I do. I’ll try to explain it, but I can’t guarantee I’ll succeed.” He was feeling so warm and fuzzy toward me he even offered a hint of a smile. “Just like I couldn’t guarantee to make Adam understand why a human might feel guilty over what he’d done.
“It’s not that we are without emotions. And it’s not that we don’t feel guilt. You remember how Adam reacted when you told Dominic his demon wasn’t dead?”
I nodded. How could I forget? And yes, refusing to heal himself had obviously been a sign of guilt.
“We are by our nature a very pragmatic people. We will feel guilt and regret over something we feel we should have done differently. But we are better than humans at accepting those things we cannot change.”
I thought about that a bit, rolled the idea around my mind and tried to understand it. “So Adam could kill Dominic without remorse as long as he believed it was something he couldn’t change? Even though he’s very fond of Dominic?”
Lugh smiled gently. “He’s more than just ‘fond’ of him, but yes, that’s the point he was trying to make. When he’s had more experience with human thoughts and feelings, he’ll understand why that was the wrong time to make the point.”
I wasn’t sure there was a right time to make a point like that. For one thing, it showed me just exactly how much you could ever trust a demon. Knowing that no matter how much they cared about you, they’d be willing to kill you if the situation warranted was not a comforting thought. Lugh might think of it as “pragmatic.” I wondered if “ruthless” wasn’t a better word.
“I think there’s something else you should know,” Lugh continued. “Something that might help you accept Adam a little better.”
If he thought I was going to “accept” Adam, he was deluding himself. Naturally, I didn’t share my opinion, though I suppose he knew it anyway.
“Adam’s enjoyment of causing pain isn’t typical human sadism.”
Typical human sadism?
I think Lugh heard that thought, because a hint of a smile touched his lips, then vanished.
“A human who enjoyed the excesses that he does wouldn’t be so scrupulous about how he found his gratification. A human wouldn’t have tempered his tastes for his lover as Adam has for Dominic. There are many psychological traits that would accompany sadism of that level if he were human—a need to dominate and humiliate, for one—that aren’t present in Adam.
“I mentioned that he has not often walked the Mortal Plain. In our homeland, we are incorporeal, which means we do not have the sense of touch. It is not at all uncommon for young, inexperienced demons to be fascinated by the novelty of touch, and therefore to enjoy even sensations that a human would consider unpleasant.”
This conversation made me extremely uncomfortable—I try to be tolerant, but obviously I don’t always succeed—and I wanted it over as soon as possible. Unfortunately, my mouth didn’t get the memo and invited further comment.
“From what I can see, he enjoys giving it, not receiving it.”
“I’m sure he finds both appealing and fascinating.”
I remembered hearing his cries of pain when Dominic whipped him, and I remembered thinking it didn’t sound like he was enjoying himself one bit.
Apparently, Lugh read my mind and answered the question I didn’t want to ask.
“Even those who find the physical sensations fascinating usually have a limit to how much they can stand. I suspect Adam specifically instructed Dominic to pass his limits. No doubt it was the only way he could think of to atone for what he’d done.”
I supposed that made sense. There was no way I could interpret what had happened as anything other than penance, and for it to be penance, it had to be unpleasant. I wouldn’t exactly say I understood what Lugh was telling me. What I did understand was that I couldn’t always interpret Adam’s actions based on human psychology.
I guess it’s better to know that you don’t understand something. Prevents you from making incorrect assumptions, or at least lets you make fewer of them. I hoped.
“So now that you know all these things, will you go back to Adam’s house?” Lugh asked.
My cowardly insides shouted a frantic “no!” What I said instead was, “I’ll think about it.”
The tension returned to Lugh’s posture. “Don’t think about it. Just do it.”
I bristled. “You may be king of the demons, but you’re not the king of me. I’ll think about it.”
Lugh stood up. The eerie glow returned to his eyes as he stared down at me. “I suggest you think very, very quickly.”
“Or what?” I asked. I actually wasn’t trying to give him attitude—I just heard the undertone of threat and wanted to know what the threat was.
“Or I’ll have to resume my efforts to take control while you’re conscious.”
That brought me to my feet in a hurry. “Bullshit. If you could take control, you’d have done it by now.”
“When I first succeeded in controlling your dreams, I stopped trying to control your body. You’ve seen evidence that my control of your dreams has improved. Why would you think I won’t get better at controlling your body?”
My stomach really didn’t like this conversation. “You’re just trying to intimidate me into doing what you want. It won’t work.”
“Why do you think you had such a terrible headache this evening?”
That stopped me cold, but only for a minute. “Stress will do that to a person.”
“So will fighting a demon.”
I swallowed hard. “So you’re saying you were trying to take over and that’s why my head hurt?”
“Yes. I’d vowed not to interfere with your life any more than necessary, but when you flee the only person who can help you, I have to protect you from your own foolishness.”
It was my turn to growl. “I can protect my own damn self! Stay out of it.”
“Even supposing I could, I wouldn’t. Must I keep reminding yo
u that there’s more at stake here than your own life? Are you so small-minded?”
“Yes!” I screamed, angry and scared and desperate. “I never wanted to be a fucking hero. If I wanted to be a hero, I’d have volunteered to host. I’m a small-minded, selfish little bitch who just wants to live her own small, unimportant life in peace. I never asked for fucking Raphael to torture the fucking king of the demons by foisting him on me!” I sucked in a great gulp of air—I’d said all of that so far without breathing—but before I could continue the tirade, Lugh closed the distance between us and enveloped me in his arms.
I tried to pull away, but he was far too strong for me. My face ended up pressed against his chest, his hand splayed on the side of my head to hold me there. The leather of his jacket was much softer than it looked.
His other arm wrapped around my shoulders in a solid, unbreakable grip. His chin rested on the top of my head. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm myself, and caught the delicious scent of him, that unknown, exotic, musky scent that was like nothing else I’d ever smelled.
“I’m sorry, Morgan,” he murmured, his hand rubbing gently over my back. “I’m so sorry you were dragged into this. I can’t tell you how much I wish it hadn’t happened, and not just because of the threat to me. I’ll do everything I can to make things better for you and to keep you safe.”
He felt so warm and strong against me that it sapped all my will. I slipped my arms around his waist and let him hold me, and tried for just a few minutes not to think.
One thing I’ll say for Lugh—he gives great hugs. By the time he let go, the hysteria that had threatened to overwhelm me was gone. I wasn’t quite at the acceptance stage yet—way too much fight left in me for that—but at least I was calm, steady, and rational.
He cupped my cheeks in his hands, tilting my head up toward his. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me, wanted to lose myself in sensual pleasure. But he didn’t, and it was just as well. I still loved Brian, and if by some miracle I lived through all this and persuaded him to take me back, I didn’t want to have betrayed him in even such a small way.
I took a deep, steadying breath. “If I can come up with a solid plan of action that doesn’t involve Adam, will you let me do it?”
He raised his eyebrows. “I would be most interested to hear it.”
Yeah, so would I. “Is that a yes?”
He gave me one of those searching looks I was learning to hate. Then he nodded slowly. “If the plan is good, then I won’t try to take you over. But understand, as much as I regret that you’ve been dragged into this against your will, I have a duty both to my people and to yours. I will not let sentiment interfere with doing what I know is right.”
Yeah, he’d made that point crystal clear. “I understand,” I assured him. “Give me twenty-four hours to come up with something better. If I can’t, and if Adam is still willing and able to help me, then I’ll go back.”
I don’t think he was thrilled with the compromise, but he accepted it.
Now all I had to do was come up with a brilliant plan in twenty-four hours or less.
Chapter 18
No brilliant inspirations struck me while I slept, and I woke up on Monday morning with no better idea what to do than I’d had when I collapsed into bed Sunday night. A long, hot shower and three cups of terrible coffee with fake cream failed to produce a solution out of thin air.
It wasn’t like I had any investigative skills. By the time I’m pulled into a case, the demon has already been captured and convicted. Even if I’d had skills, Lugh was right about how few my resources were. I mean, my house with all my worldly goods had burned to the ground just a few days ago. I hadn’t even begun to dig myself out of that mess. I suppose I needed to make sure I’d be alive in a week or so before I tried to rebuild my life.
It didn’t leave me with many options.
Not to mention, there was still a murder charge hanging over my head. I checked in with my lawyer’s office, just to let her know I hadn’t skipped town.
After I got off the phone with my lawyer, I called Brian again. I tried him at his office, but he hadn’t gotten in yet. I left another message, giving him Val’s cell number. Yeah, I know it was stupid to give him the phone number of someone who’d been murdered yesterday, but I was too paranoid to give him the hotel number.
Still no brilliant plans.
I flipped on the TV, more because I wanted some background noise than because I actually wanted to watch anything that was on at nine in the morning.
God conspired against me so that as soon as the TV was on, the screen filled with Adam’s handsome face. My throat tightened.
He was standing at a podium, a forest of microphones in front of him. Special Report, said the top left corner of the screen. Across the bottom of the screen, a headline scrolled: Director of Special Forces, Adam White, accused of murder.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, wishing I could make everything go away.
“Do you have any hard feelings toward your men for giving credence to the accusation?” one of the reporters asked.
“Not at all,” Adam said. His deep voice and good looks gave good TV. “They were only doing their job. I’d have been upset with them if they hadn’t been thorough. I’m not above the law. My only hard feelings are for whoever placed that call.”
Those hot caramel eyes stared directly into the camera, seeming to look through it straight at me.
“I promise you, the perpetrator will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”
I swallowed hard, instinct telling me it wouldn’t be the law that prosecuted me but Adam himself.
The cell phone rang. I muted the TV but wasn’t able to tear my eyes from the screen as I fumbled the phone open, praying it was Brian.
“Hello?” I said.
“Morgan, Morgan, where is your head, little girl?”
I shot to my feet, wishing I’d checked the number before I’d answered. “What do you want, Andrew?”
“Take a few mental leaps with me, dear sister. You called in a complaint to the police yesterday on Valerie’s cell phone. The police investigated your claim and found it was a hoax. Adam White is now hell-bent on arresting you. And you’re still carrying the cell phone. Should I give you a lesson in modern technology?”
I stifled a groan. Yes, I was a moron. But I wasn’t used to being on the run, hadn’t thought things through that far. Of course the police would be able to trace the cell phone. They could be converging on me any moment.
I started shoving my few belongings back in shopping bags, holding the cell phone to my ear with my shoulder. Yes, I should have hung up immediately and run for the hills, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Why are you calling me, Andrew? Why do you care?”
He chuckled. “Let’s just say it would be inconvenient for everyone involved if you were arrested and they revoked your bail. So get your ass out of wherever you are and dump the phone. And don’t worry, sis—I’ll still be able to find you when I need you.”
He hung up then, which was just as well or I’d probably have wasted more time cussing him out.
I was out of my room within five minutes, but I took the cell phone with me. I didn’t want to lead the police to the room, where they’d find my fingerprints all over the place and know for sure I was the one who’d placed the call. I turned it off and removed its battery, hoping that would be enough to stop the police from homing in on it.
A police car pulled into the hotel parking lot as my cab pulled out. I held my breath, but the police didn’t come screaming after us. I had the driver take me to Front Street—so named because it fronts the Delaware River. I got out, then tried to look inconspicuous as I did my best to wipe every fingerprint off the phone and its battery, then tossed both in the river.
My head started hurting as I wandered aimlessly along the riverfront, trying to figure out what my next step was. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sai
d, “Cut it out, Lugh. You gave me twenty-four hours, remember?” The headache went away, but it had been an effective reminder.
I found a pay phone and called Brian, talking to his voice mail again. I told him to ignore the number I’d given him before. I wished like hell he’d just pick up the phone. I longed for him in ways I’d never imagined I could.
I took a bus back into Center City and bought a prepaid phone. I worried that Adam with his police resources might still be able to trace it to me. But my delusion that I’d be able to take care of myself was fraying around the edges.
I felt so desperate, I actually considered calling my mom and asking for her help. Luckily, I had a few more functioning brain cells than that. My mom claims she loves me despite my copious flaws, but she practically worships golden boy Andrew. She’d turn me over to him in a heartbeat, wouldn’t even consider the possibility that he might not be the Dalai Lama, Jesus Christ, and Mother Teresa all rolled into one.
At around three o’clock, I tried Brian yet again. And got his voice mail, yet again. For some reason, that bothered me, and I called the main office number. The receptionist told me Brian hadn’t been in all day and that he hadn’t called in sick. Everyone was worried about him.
I was worried about him, too. I assured the receptionist that I’d go over to his condo and make sure he wasn’t lying unconscious—or worse—on the floor.
All my keys were buried somewhere in the rubble that had once been my house, but I had a spare set at my office. I didn’t like going there, where people who wanted me dead might expect me to go, but I didn’t think I had a whole lot of choice.
“Hey, Lugh?” I whispered as I walked, hoping people on the street would think I was talking into a cell phone. “Can you let me know if you see anyone or anything that should worry me when I get near the office?”
My answer was a brief stab of pain through my eyeball. Lovely. I took that as a yes and tried not to scare the crap out of myself by thinking about being able to communicate with him while I was conscious.
No headaches battered at me as I approached my office. Didn’t stop me from constantly looking over my shoulder and starting at shadows.