Demon Possessed

Chapter 31

Roc’s voice started low, growing louder, words in the demon tongue she didn’t understand. Energy flowed through her, the thick, sticky-sweet energy of the Yezer, speeding her demon heart. Speeding both of her hearts.

Nick’s hand clasped hers more tightly. Did he feel it? Did he know? She couldn’t tell, but she hoped he did. And then she knew he did, because his energy pushed into her too, red with lust and black with anger. She opened herself to it. To all of it.

For a moment she floated on it like a dust mote in the sun, dancing lazily, twirling and drifting. Her shields were already down; she willed them to disappear, let the energy flow through her entire body. Let it become magic inside her while Roc’s voice kept going and something wet touched her lips.

Roc’s blood. Just a smudge. And then Roc’s lips, and she started to jerk away when she realized he wasn’t kissing her. He was breathing into her, and that was necessary too, and she flew so high she thought she was scattered in the stars.

Then the pain hit.

Everything went red. Her brain screamed. Her mouth screamed. Every muscle in her body caught fire. Her heart pounded, pounded, pounded; it was all she could hear, faster and faster, her blood rushing through her body and through her brain. That hurt too, her head throbbing, a migraine times a million, and tears fell down her cheeks, and sweat soaked her dress, and blood poured from her nose.

Her muscles snapped and stretched. Her stomach roiled. She threw up, and blood came with it. It hurt so bad, so much worse than she’d ever imagined it would. She didn’t want this anymore and it was too late.

It felt as if her bones were breaking. It felt as if her body was breaking, curling in on itself. Somewhere in there she felt Nick’s hand still in hers and realized she was squeezing it. Her organs rang like bells and that was Tera nearby.

She didn’t know how long it went on, the pain. Deep beneath it something else was happening. A strengthening. A deepening. Her consciousness spread around her until she felt every person on the roof, every one of them, as a separate and distinct entity. Felt their connection to the angel. It was like grabbing each string between her teeth and snapping it; she was doing it, she could do it, and it seemed so much easier.

Her legs shook when she tried to stand. They wouldn’t support her. Instead she leaned on Nick, let his strong arms hold her up as she turned again to the angel.

Tera had been holding it off, screaming spells, waving her hands, and shooting what looked absurdly like neon flares at it. She wasn’t beating it, but she was distracting it.

Brian ran through the crowd; large portions of them had stopped screaming, were huddled together on the floor, crying. “What do you need? Megan, what can I do?”

She didn’t reply. Instead she took his hand. His shock transmitted to her; he felt it then. Felt her new power. Knew what she’d done.

Time to worry about that later. Right now—Greyson still hadn’t moved—she had some business to take care of. And if that was an overly dramatic way to think of it, she couldn’t help it.

She drew on his energy as much as she could. Drew on what her Yezer were getting, which was so much more now that the angel’s hold on the crowd had been broken. Took it from Nick.

And thrust it all, flaming, at the angel, as hard as she could.

The impact nearly knocked her over again. It would have, had Nick not been there to hold her.

The angel screamed. It was the kind of scream she never wanted to hear again, the kind that made her want to cry and scream herself. The pain and rage in that sound horrified her.

But feeling the angel’s shock, its misery, feeling its power weaken and rebound into her . . . that elated her.

Maybe it shouldn’t have. It hadn’t been easy to deal with that feeling the first time. But this time? All she had to do was look at the people around them, at Greyson, and anger overshadowed any sense of shame.

It fought her, pushing back. She gritted her teeth. Kept going. Kept shoving at it, sending every bit of anger and rage, every bit of energy, every bit of pain into it.

It sank to its knees. Tera shouted something, and it convulsed. Again. And again. Its energy fading, it felt so weak . . .

Megan pulled back. She couldn’t keep going, not anymore. It didn’t seem so evil anymore. It seemed so helpless, so—

It shouted something, and Reverend Walther flew through the air at her.

“You will not—foul—” He shouted something else, but Megan didn’t hear it. She was too busy trying to jump out of the way, because Walther held a knife in his hand, moonlight glinting off the edge of it, and it was aiming straight for her heart.

Her heart. Not her two hearts. Only one leaped; only one pounded. It was done.

No time to think about that. She jumped sideways. Nick and Brian grabbed at Walther and tackled him.

The angel screamed. Megan looked up in time to see Spud bring his own knife down and ducked before it finished falling.

Silence fell. The wind died. The rain stopped.

She peeked up through her fingers. People milled around, crying; some of them headed back down the stairs, some clutched at each other as though they’d never leave. Tera stood panting by the wall, edging away from the angel’s body toward Nick and Brian. Spud got up and turned to look at—

Greyson. Not moving.

She moved faster than she ever had. Faster than she ever thought she could move.

He was warm. She thought he was breathing. She couldn’t be sure, though, and her hand was shaking too hard to check his pulse.

“Greyson, wake up.” He wasn’t dead. Couldn’t be dead, right? Did demons go into comas? Jesus, did they go into comas they never came out of? He looked so pale. He was warm, but he was pale.

She slapped him lightly. “Greyson, wake up!”

He stirred, coughed. Opened one eye and stared at her. And like a silly girl, she burst into tears.

“Now?” he croaked. “Now will you fucking marry me?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Yes, I will.”

The afternoon sun shone beneath the thick curtains on the window by the time they woke up the next day. Megan didn’t really remember going back to their hotel or falling, exhausted, into bed. She had a vague memory of Greyson helping her undress and another, much sweeter, of him pulling her close before her eyes fell shut.

She opened her eyes, rolled over, and found him staring at her. She jumped.

“Jesus, you scared me. What are you doing?”

“I was awake.”

“So you decided to lie there and stare at me?”

“Well, actually, no. I got up, and I made some calls—I have a few things to tell you—and then I got back into bed and waited for you to wake up. How are you feeling?”

How was she feeling? That was a good question. “Okay. Kind of achy everywhere. And a little loopy, maybe. But other than that, okay.”

He nodded. “So you did the ritual last night.”

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

“And . . . you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah.” She smiled a little. “I guess I am.”

Their eyes met for a second, but he blinked and started to sit up. “I talked to Winston this morning. He and Baylor showed up just after we left and took care of Gunnar. So we’re not sure who’s going to take over his House just at the moment. He asked us please to let him deal with Leora. I told him I’d have to talk to you about it.”

“What do you think?”

“I think we should let him. She’s just a child.”

She raised her eyebrows. “That’s so generous of you. I’m surprised.”

“You wound me. I’ve always been generous. In fact . . .”

He leaned over, giving her a lovely view of his bare back, the muscles stretching under the skin, and came back with a tiny wrapped package. “Here. Happy birthday.”

“Oh, shit, I—it is my birthday, isn’t it? I forgot.”

“Well, you have had rather a lot on your mind.”

“True.” She tore open the thick silvery paper to reveal a small velvet box. Her breath caught.

“Last chance to change your mind,” he said, but the smile didn’t quite make it. “Still want to say yes?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

He flipped open the box. Her eyes felt as if they were going to fall out of her head. It wasn’t that it was a large diamond; it was, but not ridiculously so. It was just so . . . perfect. Just what she would have picked for herself.

“I’ve been carrying this damned thing around for a month and a half. How about you put it on now, so I don’t have to anymore?”

Her hand shook when she held it out to him. She was elated. She was terrified. And she loved him.

The ring slipped over her knuckle, rested perfectly at the base of her finger. She sat mesmerized for a moment, watching it sparkle, unable to believe this was really happening. Had really happened.

“I’ve been thinking about your job,” he said. “You know, there are a lot of demons who could use some counseling. Right at the Ieuranlier. There’s plenty of room; you could have your own office in one of the wings if you like. If you hate the idea, we can talk about it, but I thought . . .”

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t counseling humans in her own practice. But how much of that would she be able to do now that she was fully demon?

And she didn’t really feel any different. They’d been right about that, Roc and Greyson. She felt exactly the same. She’d just been afraid of change, afraid of moving forward.

It was time to stop being that way.

“I think it sounds great.”

“And the radio show, if you want to keep doing it, we can work something out. You can take the brothers with you when you go, maybe. I’d rather you not do it. But I’d rather have you, period.”

“You do have me,” she whispered. She couldn’t keep from looking at the ring, feeling its weight on her finger.

“I love you, you know. My little pilgrim soul. I really . . . I really love you, Meg.”

“Is that where bryaela came from? That poem?”

He nodded.

“I never guessed.”

“Yes, I was always rather surprised about that, but whatever. I suppose it’s not your fault if you don’t have my dazzling intellect.”

She stuck out her tongue.

He raised an eyebrow. “Now . . . I believe I can’t really see that ring very well. There seem to be all those clothes in the way. I think you should take some of them off, so I can get a good look. I spent a lot of time hunting for that ring, you know. I deserve to see it properly, don’t I?”

She giggled and slipped the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder; they’d played this game before. “How’s that?”

“Hmm. No, I think that makes it worse, actually. You’d better take that thing off entirely. It’s in my way.”

He reached for it, but she stopped him with her hands on either side of his face. “I love you.”

His expression changed; a flicker of relief, of happiness, and he was his smooth self again. “It’s a good thing you finally agreed to marry me, then, isn’t it?”

“I think so,” she replied, and slipped off the nightgown.

The rest of her life looked as though it would be awfully interesting. She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.