The Devil's Due

CHAPTER 25

Our rescue plan was hardly to my liking, but then nothing ever is these days. Raphael would take me to Claudia’s house, under the pretext that he’d taken me prisoner because I was getting too close. Adam offered to provide handcuffs to lend some verisimilitude to the scenario, but I flat out refused.

When we got to the house, Raphael would insist I be taken downstairs into the basement with the children. That was about as far as our plan went. We didn’t know what we would find when we got there, didn’t know if the children would be restrained, didn’t know for sure how many demons would be there, didn’t know how careful they might be. If we could get to the girls before the demons did, and if it seemed likely we could extract them without too much danger, we’d just go for it. I’d seen Raphael fight before, and I had every confidence he could hold off the bad guys with ease while I spirited the children away.

But what were the chances the demons would make it that easy for us? With the way my life was going these days, we’d be lucky not to find an entire demon regiment camped out at that house. If it turned out we couldn’t get to the girls without endangering them, we’d have to wing it.

I found myself wishing that it would be Adam by my side for this adventure rather than Raphael. True, I didn’t like Adam. But I trusted him, which was more than I could say for Raphael. It seemed like a bad idea to wing it with someone I didn’t trust, but that was my only option.

I gave careful consideration to the idea of calling Brian before I left. I’d already more than broken my promise to call him if there were any new developments. I told myself I didn’t want to worry him, but in reality I just didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with all the explaining I’d have to do—nor did I have the courage to listen to his objections, of which he was sure to have many. After all, everyone else did.

No one liked the idea of me being directly involved in the rescue, even Raphael, who’d come up with the plan in the first place. Anything that involved risk to me involved risk to Lugh. But it seemed unlikely Raphael could manage a rescue all by himself. Not to mention that I didn’t trust him enough to let him go alone. For all his seeming hurry to launch the rescue, I knew there was something else behind it all. I wished I knew what, but he wasn’t telling, and guessing wasn’t helpful.

Raphael rummaged through Tommy’s memory until he discovered where his car was parked. He had to fish Tommy’s wallet and keys out of the trash bag, but though he made prissy faces about it, he took them.

Adam and Dominic saw us to the door, Andy following behind them looking a little like a lost soul. I didn’t like the way he looked, wished I had time to talk to him. Maybe we could help each other deal with our consciences. But that would have to wait.

Adam drove Raphael and me to Tommy’s car, then dropped us off with stern instructions that Raphael keep me—actually, Lugh, but we were one and the same at the moment—safe. Tommy’s car turned out to be an aging black Corolla sporting an impressive collection of dents and scratches. It wouldn’t have looked out of place up on cinder blocks on a redneck’s lawn, and I wasn’t looking forward to riding in it. I leaned against the passenger door as Raphael unlocked it, my suspicions about him gamboling playfully in my chest.

“Can you find out from Tommy how he ended up ‘volunteering’ to be a host?” I asked.

He shook his head as he walked around the front of the car to the driver’s side. “He was definitely already possessed when he arrived at the courthouse. Some guy brushed against him one day when he was standing in line at Starbucks, and before he knew what hit him, he was on his way to file the paperwork.”

I suppressed a shudder. It was so damn easy for a corporeal demon to take a new host! Everyone was vulnerable. Except me, of course.

I was about to get into the car when there suddenly came a spike of pain through my eye. I winced and hissed. It let up immediately. I knew Lugh was trying to tell me something, though I didn’t know why he didn’t just come out and say it. He seemed to be able to do that much of the time lately. Of course, perhaps my less-than-happy thoughts about demons had put my subconscious back on alert.

Raphael, who’d already gotten into the car, leaned across the seat and looked up at me. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, scanning the area for anything that might have upset Lugh.

We were in a small private lot on Lombard Street, near The Seven Deadlies. It was getting pretty late, and although South Street was just a block away, here on Lombard it was pretty quiet. Which made it a little easier for me to spot the source of Lugh’s concern.

“Shit!” I said, then said it again, just because.

“What?” Raphael asked, getting out of the car and looking alarmed.

I jerked my chin toward Reporter Barbie, who exited her car now that she’d been spotted. “We’ve got company,” I said grimly. “She’s a reporter.”

“In the mood for a nice car chase?”

I bit my lip, tempted to agree. We could get into the car and put the pedal to the metal faster than Barbie could get back into hers. Maybe we’d be able to lose her immediately. But maybe not.

I sighed heavily. “I don’t think drawing that much attention to ourselves would be a great idea,” I said. “We’ll just have to get rid of her somehow.”

“I’m sure we’ll manage something.”

I glanced at him sidelong and shivered. I didn’t like the way he was looking at Reporter Barbie, but before I had a chance to warn him to behave, she’d caught up to us.

Barbie smiled, looking for all the world like she expected me to be happy to see her.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police and report you as a stalker,” I growled at her.

She blinked. “There’s no need to be so hostile. I’m just doing my job.”

Ah, yes, the excuse of sleazy reporters everywhere. Not that I had any reason to believe Barbara What’s- Her-Name was a sleazy reporter. She hadn’t really done anything that obnoxious—yet—and not all reporters are sleazy. Just like Brian reminds me every once in a while that not all lawyers are sleazy. But old stereotypes die hard, especially when they’re in the process of inconveniencing me.

“I’m not answering your questions, so go do your job elsewhere.”

Barbie’s glance flicked to Raphael, who was doing a great job of mimicking Tommy’s sullen look. Then she looked back at me and raised her eyebrows. “You seem to have become exorcist to the rich and famous. Care to comment?”

I’d forgotten that Tommy’s father was old money, putting him in the same league as good ol’ Jordan Maguire Jr. Crap. I imagined this would be a fascinating coincidence to anyone with a journalistic mind.

“I’m a legal, registered demon,” Raphael said calmly. “And clearly Ms. Kingsley is not exorcizing me or we’d be in the basement of the courthouse and I’d be in lots and lots of restraints.”

I wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Engaging Reporter Barbie in conversation of any kind was a bad idea. But too late now.

“But there were some questions that arose at the time of your summoning. Claudia Brewster alleges that you have taken her son against his will. And I know that she has hired Ms. Kingsley to look into the case.”

This was just getting better and better. I knew denying it wasn’t going to do any good, but my reflexes kicked in. “She didn’t hire me to do anything.” I sounded pissed even to my own ears, which was not a good thing. It let Barbie know she was getting to me, which would just make her more curious. I made a concerted effort to calm my voice. “She consulted with me to see if I could find any evidence that Tommy was taken against his will. I told her I couldn’t, and that was that.”

“Then what business do you have with Mr. Brewster at the moment?”

A perfectly logical question—and evidence that I’d been right in my conviction that both Raphael and I should keep quiet.

I was still struggling to find an answer when Raphael took a step forward, invading Barbie’s personal space. His new host wasn’t quite as tall or imposing as most demon hosts, but he was able to look down on her from a significant height advantage.

“Our business is none of your business, Ms. . ?” “Paige,” she supplied. “Barbara Paige. I work for the—”

“I don’t care who you work for.” Raphael’s voice was outwardly calm, but still intimidating as hell. “You’re getting on my nerves, and that isn’t in your best interests.”

Raphael radiated so much menace any sane person would have tucked her tail between her legs and bolted. Barbie apparently wasn’t sane. She held her ground, and didn’t even look particularly uneasy.

“I don’t think threatening me is in your best interests, Mr. Brewster.” She put her fists on her hips and met his glower with a blandly calm expression.

Raphael blinked, startled that she’d called his bluff. He stared at her for a moment, then looked over at me.

“Get in the car,” he said.

It sounded suspiciously like an order, which of course made me want to dig in my heels and refuse. Common sense prevailed, however, and I turned my back on Barbie and opened the door. Raphael had already gotten in, and Barbie had started running back to her car. Luckily, she was wearing businesslike pumps that weren’t optimal running shoes.

Raphael stomped on the gas pedal before I even managed to close the door behind myself. He peeled out of the parking lot with a squeal of rubber, the car jouncing hard over one of Philly’s ubiquitous potholes. I struggled to get my seat belt on as he blew through a red light.

The expression on his face was grim, and he didn’t slow down, even when I looked back over my shoulder and told him I didn’t see Barbie’s car following us.

“Take it down a notch,” I said, bracing my hands on the dashboard as another pothole threatened to break the POS into bite-sized pieces. “We’ve lost her, and I doubt she’s going to be willing to break as many traffic laws as you are.”

“She’s not a reporter,” he said, screeching the car around a corner.

“What?”

“She’s not a reporter,” he repeated. “I was thinking it was strange that she was being so aggressive over such a nothing story. I thought it was even stranger that she didn’t bat an eyelash when I started crowding her.” His lips thinned. “Then when she put her hands on her hips, I got a glimpse of a shoulder holster under her jacket.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah. I don’t know who she is, or what she wants, but I’d say staying away from her is a really good idea.”

“I agree,” I said as my stomach decided it objected to the rough handling it was getting as we bounced and rocked down the street at warp speed. “But if you don’t slow down, we’re going to get stopped for speeding, and that could give her time to catch up with us.”

To my immense relief, the car slowed to near the speed limit. But I couldn’t help noticing he kept a watchful eye on the rearview mirror as we made our way out of town.