Demon Possessed

Chapter 27

Something attacked her the second she opened the door to her own room, a large beast with grasping arms that vibrated in her mind like a tuning fork.

Tera. Squeezing her.

Megan gasped and tried to disentangle herself. “Tera, what the hell—”

“Where the hell have you been? The meeting ended almost four hours ago. Nick and I were getting frantic. He’s out searching the hotel for you right now. For the third time.”

“Oh. Um, I was with Greyson. Talking. About the angel and stuff.”

“And you didn’t think to call and let us know? Nick’s supposed to be guarding you. You were supposed to call him when the meeting ended so he could come down and get you. How do you think he felt when you didn’t? What do you think—”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t think. The meeting wasn’t really very informative, and I needed to know some things, and I . . . no, I wasn’t thinking.”

Tera’s expression changed; her expertly made-up blue eyes widened, her perfectly glossed lips lost some of their tension. “Did you guys work everything out?”

“No.”

“Did he propose again?”

“Three or four times, I think. But he won’t give in, and now he won’t even discuss it with me. He just keeps saying if I really wanted to marry him, it wouldn’t matter, and he won’t even try to understand that it’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that . . . oh, never mind. You understand. Why am I explaining it to you?”

They sat down on the edge of the bed. Tera reached into her designer bag and pulled out a couple of tiny bottles. “Here.”

“What? Oh. Thanks.” She suppressed a smile. Trust Tera to steal airline bourbon.

She knocked the bottle back in one throat-burning swallow, sighed as it blazed down into her stomach and loosened some of her tension.

Tera sipped from her own bottle. “Maybe he’s right.”

“What? How can you even think—”

“I just mean, maybe if you’re digging your heels in this hard, it’s because you really don’t want to marry him.”

“I do want to marry him. I love him. But I just don’t see why he won’t compromise with me on this. Why he won’t even discuss it.”

“Ha. So you do want to. I hate to sound like I know what I’m talking about here—I mean, you’re the one who does this for a living, I just listen to your show sometimes—but don’t you think maybe you’re looking for excuses because you’re scared of not being in control? Or because all those decisions you’ve been putting off are suddenly here, and you’re freaking out, so you’re trying to look for a reason not to do what—oh, shit, I don’t know. What would you tell one of your patients?”

Megan stared at her for a moment, open-mouthed . . . and not a little ashamed. She’d never given Tera enough credit. “I guess you’re right. Sort of. I mean, what would I be if I give up my job? Just some woman with a rich husband, who spends her days shopping and knitting or something. What if he . . . what if he got bored with me? Demons have mistresses, you know. They have their wives who sit home and their girlfriends who go out and do fun things, and . . . if we became that, and I couldn’t even work anymore . . .”

“Megan, I’ve known him for a while, although not as well as I did before you came along. But he didn’t even cheat on Lexie, and they weren’t really doing more than having sex all over the place. And I don’t want to get all mushy or anything, but the guy is crazy about you. Do you honestly think that if you got married, there’d be something you needed that he wouldn’t get for you? Don’t you think what he’s waiting for is just for you to be willing to give all that stuff up, and once he knows you would, he’ll make sure you don’t have to? This is how he operates. Always has.”

Her eyes were wet. She was going to have to take what little savings she had and invest it in Kleenex. “I thought you hated him.”

“I’ve never hated him. It’s just so much more fun to act like I do and watch him squirm.”

Megan stared at her.

Tera shrugged. “You have your fun, I have mine.”

“But that’s— Okay, whatever. Yes, you’re right. The part about him thinking that way, not the part about you having your fun, you weirdo. It’s still him giving me permission to have a fucking job.”

“Or it’s him trying to work with you so you can both be happy.”

“Jesus, will you shut up? Since when are you all rational and wanting me to do this? I’d have to become a demon, you know.”

“I know.” Tera grinned. “But you’re obviously never going to shut up about this particular topic until you just marry the guy, so you should go ahead and do it so we can move on already.”

Too bad the little bottle in her hand was empty. Not that more was a good idea. She did have a life-or-death struggle on her schedule for the evening, so getting drunk probably wasn’t the best idea. Damned life-or-death struggles, always getting in the way of a good drinking binge.

“You really think I should say yes,” she said.

“I really think you should think about what makes you happiest and what you want out of life in ten years or twenty years or forty years and decide which option will—”

They both looked up when the door opened. Nick stepped through it, his face dark, until he saw her.

Then it got even darker.

“Where the fuck have you been? I’ve practically been dragging the fucking lake looking for you, and you’re—and you!” He glared at Tera, reddish sparks shifting in his eyes. “You were supposed to call me if you heard anything. How long has she been back here? What the fuck were you doing, that you couldn’t even let me know she was alive?”

“We were having mad, passionate sex,” Tera replied. “Aren’t you sorry you missed it?”

“I’m sorry, Nick. I’ve only been back for a couple of minutes, and I had to talk to her,” Megan jumped in, hoping somehow to divert the violence telegraphed on Nick’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was with—I was talking to Greyson.”

“Oh.” He subsided, but she hadn’t missed the pained expression on his face.

She took a deep breath. “Tera, can you give Nick and me a minute?”

Tera looked for a second as if she was about to make a joke, and Megan’s hand curled around the edge of the pillow at her side. If Tera said one word, she would smack her in the face with it.

She didn’t. She just nodded and stood. “I’ll be in my room. Give me a call, okay? To let me know what happened at your meeting and everything.”

Megan nodded. The door closed behind Tera, and she still had no idea what to say. Okay. She’d better say something. Anything. “Nick, I’m really sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, I—I mean, thanks, but it was my fault too. I should have stopped you, but . . .”

“You would have really hurt my feelings,” she finished for him. “Thanks. I mean it, really.”

“That wasn’t entirely it. I mean, I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but it wasn’t . . . Shit, Megan, I am a man. I’m part incubus. It wasn’t pity or charity, is what I mean. But I still . . .”

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I’m really, really sorry.”

He nodded, his gaze cast down so she couldn’t see his eyes. “Thanks. It’s okay. It was just as much my fault, but thanks.”

“I talked to Greyson.” Why hadn’t she asked Tera for another bottle before she left? That was stupid. “I told him again what happened and that it wasn’t your fault and that he shouldn’t blame you for it. He said he’d try. And once we’re ready, you should call him.”

He sank down on the end of the bed, a respectable distance from her but still, she could see, close enough that he could reach out to her if need be. God, he was so great. She’d never be able to forgive herself fully for hurting him. “So you talked to him.”

“Yeah.”

“And? I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but did he—I mean, have you guys worked things out?”

She sighed and explained everything. Well, almost everything. She left out the sex, but she was pretty sure he knew anyway.

He shook his head. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I know what I want to do, but I also know I don’t want to start off a marriage—Jesus, I can’t believe I’m actually talking about a marriage—with him thinking I’ll just do anything he—”

The phone rang, and her heart leaped into her throat. It was as if he knew she was talking about him. Which would be more impressive if there weren’t such a huge issue between them at the moment, but the point was the same.

Maybe he was calling to talk. Maybe he finally understood.

Except it wasn’t him. It was Brian.

For a second the room actually seemed to tilt. Brian’s voice belonged to another world, the one outside this fucking hotel. It seemed bizarre that he would intrude on the claustrophobic, miserable little stressball that what was supposed to be a relaxing week had become.

“Brian? What’s up?”

“They won’t let me upstairs until I have your room number, and they won’t give me your room number. What is it?”

“What? You’re here? Why?”

“Um, an FBI agent slaughtered a woman here early this morning, Megan. It’s kind of a big story.”

“Oh. Right.” She gave him the room number and hung up, unsure why his presence bothered her so much but bothered just the same. He didn’t belong here. This wasn’t really the part of her life she shared with him. He knew about it, and he tolerated it, but they talked about her patients and work, about his work, about TV and movies and books.

If she stopped having that work, would she still have Brian?

Maybe that wasn’t fair. After a few initial conversations he’d backed off; he didn’t want anything to do with the demon part of her life, but he certainly didn’t openly disapprove. He got along with Greyson in a grudging way despite distrusting him based on his demon-ness. But he clearly saw her as human. Wanted her to stay that way and saw it as if she were somehow cheapening herself by being so involved with demons. He never said it outright, but she knew he felt that way. Was a little disappointed in her for it.

It didn’t matter, really. She certainly wasn’t going to make an important life decision based on whether or not a friend of hers might disapprove. But she would have liked him to approve and would have liked to think it wouldn’t matter to him. But it wasn’t important, especially not then. She didn’t have time to worry about Brian at the moment.

And she didn’t have time to hang around with him either. Time creeped on, as time was wont to do; it was close to five, and she’d hoped to try to eat something and get a little rest before meeting with the others at eight. Not to mention letting Tera and Nick know what the plan was and trying to figure out who might be the one who’d hired the angel in the first place—damn it, she should have asked Greyson who he thought it was—and thinking of him opened a whole new can of worms, one she’d have to face soon.

Her mood didn’t improve when Brian arrived. He wasn’t alone. He’d brought Julie with him. Shit.

Oh, she liked Julie just fine. But that whole detective-with-FBI-connections thing set her pretty low on Megan’s must-see list just then.

Best not to let that show, though. So she smiled and gave her a hug, admired the new way Julie wore her shiny shoulder-length chestnut hair. Julie had always looked to Megan as though rather than working as a detective, she should be milking cows somewhere; she had that healthy pink-cheeked openness that belonged in a shampoo ad.

Those wide brown eyes weren’t smiling this time, though, despite the friendly greeting. Julie sat in the desk chair, leaving Brian to lean against the wall. “Megan, the murdered woman, Justine Riverside. You knew her, didn’t you? She was part of this meeting thing your boyfriend came here for.”

Shit. Shit. What did she know? Had Brian told her anything?

Okay. Honesty was going to have to be the best policy here, because she had no idea what Julie knew and didn’t know. “I knew Justine, yes.”

“Because Greyson has some business involvement with her.”

There was a difference between being honest and being stupid, however. “Julie, am I being officially questioned here or something? What’s going on?”

“No, I’m not questioning you.” Julie sighed. “I’m just trying to figure out why Elizabeth would do such a thing. And I know she talked to you before you came here. So I wonder if she mentioned Justine or if they knew each other.”

“Where is Greyson anyway?” Brian looked around. “I would have figured he’d spring for a better room than this.”

For fuck’s sake, could she have one conversation today that didn’t involve someone asking her about Greyson?

“He’s not here. Elizabeth didn’t mention Justine to me, Julie. And I didn’t know Justine very well. So I really can’t help you much, I don’t think.”

Julie frowned. Megan couldn’t quite tell if it was a disappointed frown or an I-don’t-believe-you frown, and she had no real way to find out. Trying to read members of law enforcement wasn’t a good idea. She’d discovered over the years that they tended to have a little ability of their own, at least the good ones did, and got antsy if she read them. And even if she’d been tempted to try, Brian’s presence made it unthinkable. He’d know. He’d be pissed.

“When will Greyson be back? I’d like to speak to him.”

“I don’t know. Do you need to speak to all of us? It seems like a pretty open-and-shut thing, from what I’ve heard. I mean, you know who killed Justine, right?”

Julie cocked her head, her gaze measuring Megan like Spud with a new lipstick he was thinking of trying on her. “Can I be honest with you?”

Oh, no. Questions like that never led anywhere good. But what could she say? No? “Of course.”

“Elizabeth has been . . . she’s been behaving very oddly. I spoke to her this morning, and she . . . It’s normal for people who commit murders—I mean good, normal people who suddenly snapped or whatever—to be confused. Or even to say they don’t remember it very well. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

Megan nodded. She did, very well. One of the benefits of her training and career.

“But Elizabeth is . . . If I hadn’t worked with her before, didn’t know her, I’d think she was just trying to set up an insanity defense. She keeps rambling on about beautiful white lights and witches and demons.”

Megan and Nick didn’t move, but Brian twitched. Luckily Julie didn’t notice.

“This isn’t part of an official investigation, which is why I’m telling you this,” Julie went on. “Yes, as far as the case is concerned, it’s done with. Elizabeth confessed. But she’s making less and less sense. She’s drooling. She’s falling asleep. She’s not on any drugs or anything, but she’s totally out of it. And I just wondered . . . she mentioned you.”

“Me?” Did that sound squeaky? She really hoped that hadn’t sounded squeaky.

“She said you came to her room. At least that’s what I think she said. And then she said something about another woman and then something about an army or something. She said guns. That guns were there, and they were pushing her to do it, and the light wanted her to do it. And she didn’t have control—” Her cell phone rang. “Sorry, hold on a second.”

Megan barely heard it. One of them. Not guns. Gunnar.

Elizabeth would have known who he was. Would have recognized him. And of course Justine knew him and would have opened her door to him. From there, Elizabeth, powering the angel or being used by the angel—a stroke of cleverness she wouldn’t have expected from Gunnar, setting up a murderer so no suspicion was cast on him—could have walked in right after him and done the dirty work.

Gunnar, who’d tried to downplay the deaths of his rubendas. Gunnar, who hadn’t wanted to go to the Windbreaker and confront the angel. Gunnar, whom Megan had always considered the dullest and weakest of her fellow Gretnegs; the man collected fish, for fuck’s sake.

She glanced at Nick, saw the same knowledge in his eyes. The same aching uncertainty of what to do, with Julie and Brian there.

“Oh God!” Julie’s voice cut their eye contact but did nothing to still the panicked hammering of her heart. “And she’s—oh my God. Yes. Yes. Okay.”

She hung up and stood staring at the phone, her pretty face set in a deep frown.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Brian took a step toward her, but Julie shook her head.

“Elizabeth is dead.”

“Oh, shit, seriously?”

Julie nodded. “But . . . they said her body was all . . . She just died, but she’s already decomposed. Like she’s been dead for a couple of days instead of twenty minutes.”

Knowledge hit Megan so hard she had to grip the bed to try to hide her shock. The angel had killed her. Killed her the other night, either right before or right after it had attacked Megan herself. That’s where the blood came from. That’s why Elizabeth had been so spaced out. The angel had either been inhabiting her body part of the time or using it, moving its limbs like a fucking marionette. The image made her stomach lurch; she put her hand over her mouth.

Luckily it wasn’t too extreme a reaction to discussions about decomposition anyway. Julie reached for her. “Megan, I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking—this must be really more than you want to hear.”

Megan waved her off. Okay. It was Gunnar. And the angel hadn’t just seen Megan, attacked her. It had seen her with Greyson, with Nick and the brothers, with Roc and—

Tera.

Tera the witch. Tera, whom, if Greyson was right, the angel would have just as much reason to go after as any demon would. Yes, as a witch Tera was better protected than the rest of them, but still. If it snuck up on her, alone? She hadn’t sensed it at the exorcism, hadn’t seen it the way the rest of them had.

Megan stood up, almost falling in her haste. “Hey, guys, I just realized the time. I’ve really got to get going. I’m—I’m meeting Greyson. And I need to go right now. Nick? Nick, we need to go. Can you call Greyson and tell him we’re on our way while I freshen up? And tell him to meet us in Tera’s room. And to hurry.”