The Devil You Know

CHAPTER 2

Eventually, I stopped bawling. Andy held my hand the whole time, neither speaking nor moving. I could have used that hand to wipe away the tears, but I wasn’t any more eager to let go than he was.

Sniffling like a baby, I pulled myself together as best I could and met his gaze once more.

“How ya doin’, bro?” I asked.

He managed a faint smile. “Better than about thirty minutes ago,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. His eyes closed for a moment, and worry stabbed through me.

“Andy?”

He opened his eyes again, and I noticed for the first time the haunted expression in them. He didn’t speak, and I couldn’t think of anything to say.

I hadn’t spoken to Andy, the real Andy, for ten years. The last time I’d spoken to him, I’d let him know in no uncertain terms that I hated his guts for volunteering to host a demon. For years, I’d believed that. Not until Adam shot him had I realized how untrue those words had been.

Thinking about that awful moment reminded me of some problems I’d rather have ignored. Like the explanation we’d given the police for what had happened to Andy, which had been a complete work of fiction. God, I hoped he was willing to go along with the story, even though it painted his demon, Raphael, in the worst possible light.

How much did he know? I’d gotten the impression Raphael had made a habit of blocking Andy out to keep him from overhearing state secrets. Did Andy remember anything about the confrontation that led to his temporary death? Perhaps not. Perhaps all he knew was the official story, which he had surely overheard multiple times during his stay here.

But I wasn’t about to bring that up now. Maybe I couldn’t think of anything to say to my brother after his ten-year absence from my life, but I wasn’t going to dump problems on him to break the awkwardness. At least, not yet.

“Thanks for coming to visit,” Andy said, his voice weak and sickly. “I always knew you were here, even if I couldn’t talk.”

I gave his hand a squeeze. “Hey, in spite of our differences, you’re still my big brother.”

He smiled, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “You told Raphael I was dead as far as you were concerned.”

I winced and looked away. “I know.” Remembering some of the other things I’d said to Raphael, I squirmed with guilt. I’d been very, very hard on Andy.

“It’s okay,” he assured me. “Raphael was a real son of a bitch, and I’m the one who brought him into your life.”

I raised my head, surprised at the bitterness in his voice. The only other demon host I knew who’d lost his demon and was still functional—Dominic—had been so attached to his demon that I’d expected Andy to be the same way. Although I had to admit, I had a hard time imagining anyone being attached to Raphael.

“So you’re not sorry he’s gone?” I asked.

He shuddered. “No. Adam did me a real favor by helping me get rid of him.” Well, that answered the question of whether he knew what had really happened.

His jaw clenched, and he let go of my hand. He shifted position in the bed, then winced. “God, I feel weak as a newborn. And I’m more than ready to lose the diaper. Could you go let the nurses know I’m back?”

I didn’t want to leave his side, especially with all the questions and regrets that swarmed me, but I knew if I’d been in his position, I’d be in a hurry to regain my dignity, too. I wanted to hug him, or kiss him, or even ruffle his hair, but his body language didn’t invite affection.

“I’ll be right back,” I told him around the lump in my throat. He merely nodded, not looking at me. I didn’t know if he was angry at me, or at Raphael, or at Lugh, or just at the situation in general. But there’d be time to talk about that later.

Knees feeling a bit wobbly, I went to the nurses’ station and gave them the good news. Looking genuinely delighted, a nurse and an orderly hurried to his room, telling me to stay put while they helped Andy get cleaned up and dressed.

“Here,” the remaining nurse at the station said, pushing a phone toward me. “I’ll let you be the one to give your parents the good news.”

I made a face. I didn’t want to talk to my parents under ordinary circumstances. After what I’d learned this afternoon, I wanted to even less. However, it would probably take more energy than I had to talk the nurse into taking the phone back, so I gritted my teeth and made the call.

Naturally, my mother was beside herself with glee, and I knew she and my dad would be at the hospital as soon as humanly possible. I’d have given everything I owned to get the hell out of there before they made their grand entrance, but I couldn’t walk out on Andy like that. Not after he’d been gone for so long.

I took a seat in the depressing waiting area and tried not to chew my lip raw. Eventually, the nurse came to get me, beaming. “You can go back into the room now,” she informed me, and I tried to smile at her.

Don’t get me wrong—I was thrilled that Andy had awakened. But I was such an emotional mess myself that I couldn’t manage the giddy excitement I thought I should be feeling. Andy and I had been estranged, at best, when he’d gone to the ceremony that drew Raphael into the Mortal Plain, and now he’d been dormant inside his own body for ten long years. The man who awaited me in that room was a stranger.

I stood in the doorway a moment, struggling against my cowardly impulse to flee. Then, with a deep breath, I pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside.

Dressed in blue jeans and a black T-shirt that hung loosely on his gaunt frame, he sat in a wheelchair, eyes fixed on his hands, which were clenched in his lap. He didn’t seem to notice me entering the room.

“Andy?” I asked hesitantly. “You okay?”

He blinked and looked up at me. “Yeah. Fine.” He tried a smile, but it was a sorry effort. “Apparently, it’s going to take me some time to regain my strength,” he said. His voice still sounded weak and raspy, but then his vocal cords were out of practice. “It was all I could do to stand up long enough for them to get the pants on.”

I bit my lip. “I’m sorry.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What for?”

I sighed. “Everything?”

He laughed briefly. “That certainly covers all the bases.”

The awkward silence threatened to return, and I rushed to fill it. “Mom and Dad are on their way.”

To my surprise, he grimaced. He and my folks had always gotten along famously, what with him being the golden boy and all.

He saw my surprise and shook his head. “They’re going to expect me to exonerate Raphael, and obviously I can’t do that.”

As far as everyone except myself, Adam, and Dominic knew, Raphael had gone rogue, kidnapping and torturing my boyfriend to punish me for the bad blood between us. My parents had always refused to believe that. They loved Raphael as if he were their true son, not Andy.

“How much do you remember?” I asked.

He closed his eyes. “Exactly as much as Raphael wanted me to. He made sure I knew the party line before he left me. Just in case I’d ever be a functional human being again.” He sighed. “How much do you want to bet Mom and Dad are going to try to convince me that there must be some kind of misunderstanding?”

I frowned. “I know they won’t be happy, but surely once you confirm the story, they’ll have to believe it.”

He snorted. “You’re underestimating the power of their denial. They might not argue with me, but I doubt they’ll really believe me.”

Of course, since the story wasn’t true, it was hard to blame my parents too much for not believing it. But no worries—there were plenty of other things I could blame them for.

I longed to ask Andy if he knew anything about my real father and the circumstances of my birth, but I knew it was too early for that. I needed to give him time to recuperate, to readjust to life as an independent human being. So I’d wait until tomorrow to ask.

I was once again struggling against my urge to run away when I heard the excited babble of my parents’ voices and realized it was too late.

“You want to hide out in the bathroom until they’re gone?” Andy asked me, and for the first time since he’d awakened I saw a spark of life and humor in his eyes.

Sad to say, that offer actually tempted me. But I scraped up what maturity I could and stayed right where I was.

My mom came through the door first. She’s the kind of woman who won’t set foot outside her house until her face is meticulously painted to hide any hint of blemishes or wrinkles and her hair has been sprayed until it didn’t dare move even in a gale-force wind. She wields her iron with fanatical zeal, and even when she wears linen, you’ll rarely see a crease anywhere.

Tonight was no exception, though how she managed to look so perfect when she’d obviously rushed out of the house, I had no clue. Maybe she was really a demon-possessed mannequin. But I’m being uncharitable. So what else is new?

She put her hands over her mouth when she caught sight of Andy, stifling a sob as her eyes shimmered with tears. Then she walked past me without even a sidelong glance and reached out her hand toward my brother. Andy took the offered hand and forced a smile. My mother couldn’t speak through her silent tears, and for that I was grateful.

My dad wouldn’t know a tender emotion if it bit him in the ass. He stepped through the doorway and gave me a brief nod, then moved to stand by Andy’s wheelchair, looking like being reunited with formerly catatonic sons was an everyday occurrence for him. I wondered if anyone would notice if I just slipped out the door.

“How are you feeling, son?” my dad asked.

“Much better,” Andy said. He tried to withdraw his hand from my mother’s grasp, but she didn’t let go.

“We’re so grateful to have you back,” my mom said, her voice quavering. “And now you can tell us what really happened on the night you were shot.”

Andy and I shared a look. Now as you might have gathered, there’s no love lost between me and my mom, but even I had a hard time believing she could be this callous. My mouth went on autopilot.

“You haven’t talked to the real Andy in ten years, he’s been catatonic for weeks, and the first thing you say to him is how grateful you are that he can tell you R—” I stopped myself before Raphael’s name left my lips. Demons adopt their hosts’ names when they walk the Mortal Plain, and they rarely divulged their own names. In all likelihood, my parents didn’t know the name of the demon who had possessed Andy, and we were all better off if it stayed that way. “Raphael” might not be his True Name, but there were probably others who knew that was the king’s brother’s name.

I cleared my throat, trying to disguise the slip as a cough. “Hoping he can tell you his demon isn’t the bastard everyone else has said?”

My mother’s back stiffened, and my dad glared at me.

“Morgan,” he said, “if you don’t have anything nice to say, then I’d suggest you not say anything at all.”

What was I, five? My hackles rose even higher. “I might say the same of the two of you! Are you even marginally happy to see Andy restored, or is that goddamn demon the only thing you care about?”

My dad’s glare became even more icy. “Watch your language.”

Unbelievable! I’d always thought of Andy as their favored son. I’d known it was because he’d agreed to host a demon, but I didn’t realize until this moment how little regard they actually had for him as a real person.

“Let’s not argue, okay?” Andy said weakly. “I don’t have the strength for it.”

I immediately felt like shit. Yeah, I thought my mom was a callous bitch, but surely I had enough self-control to keep my opinion to myself for a few minutes while he and my parents got reacquainted.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. I was apologizing to Andy, but my parents seemed to think the apology encompassed them as well, and I saw no reason to disillusion them. My dad turned away without a word, and my mom had never looked my way in the first place.

“Of course we’re very glad to see you recovered,” my mom assured Andy. “I can’t imagine what these last few weeks must have been like for you.” She sniffled daintily, and Andy forced another smile.

“It’s been rough,” he admitted, “but that’s over.”

My mom finally let go of his hand and pulled up a chair, my dad standing behind her like some kind of bodyguard. Surely he was feeling something—other than his distaste for me, that is—but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him. He’s one of those super-uptight men who thinks showing emotion is girly. I doubt a tear had dared leak from his eye since well before puberty.

Leaning forward slightly in her chair with her earnestness, my mom asked, “So tell us what happened.”

Once again, Andy and I shared a look, but this time I managed to bite my tongue and let him talk. He shook his head and met my mother’s gaze.

“I’m really sorry, Mom, but I’m afraid you already know the truth. My demon went rogue, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.” He shuddered visibly, and my mom sat back in her chair looking dumbstruck.

“How can that be?” she whispered, eyes wide and incredulous.

Andy shrugged. “Not all demons are the same. I just happened to draw one of the bad ones.”

My mom didn’t say anything, but anyone with half a brain could see she wasn’t convinced. I really don’t get her. She has to know that there are bad demons out there. Even with the thickest, rosiest-colored glasses imaginable, she had to have seen reports of rogues (demons who commit violent crimes) and illegals (demons who possess unwilling hosts). Why was it so impossible for her to imagine Andy getting saddled with one?

“Well,” my dad said with false cheer, “even if that’s the case, I’m sure things will go better next time.”

My jaw dropped open, and I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

I should have known my parents would want him to host again. Hell, they’d probably wished they could summon another demon to take him over while he was catatonic. However, even though he’d signed the consent forms the first time around, he’d have to do it all over again if he wanted to host another demon.

I’d just gotten my brother back after a ten-year absence. I didn’t want to lose him again!

Then an insidious thought wormed its way into my mind. If Andy was going to host another demon, why shouldn’t that demon be Lugh? My heart tripped over itself. Andy had always wanted to be a hero, and I never had. It would be perfect! I’d get rid of Lugh and go back to as normal a life as I’d ever had. And Andy would get to be the hero who saved the world.

But before I got too excited about the idea, I saw the ghastly white color of my brother’s skin, saw the horror in his eyes, and knew that my faint hope was already dead.

Still pale, his hands gripping the arms of the wheelchair, Andy shook his head. “There won’t be a next time,” he declared, his voice slightly wobbly. “Once was enough for me.”

My mother put a hand to her breastbone in shock, and my dad was momentarily rendered speechless. He recovered quickly.

“That was insensitive of me,” my dad said, and I swallowed a laugh. “I’m sorry, son. I didn’t mean to rush you. The first thing you have to do is get your strength back. We can talk about your future later.”

Once again, my brother shook his head. “We can talk about my future, but I’m telling you now, that future won’t involve becoming a host again. I know you think I’m traumatized and will change my mind when I get better, but don’t get your hopes up.”

My dad looked like he had something else to say to that, but my mom beat him to it, leaning forward and putting her hand on Andy’s shoulder.

“Of course not, dear,” she said. “You know we’ll support you one hundred percent, no matter what you choose to do.”

I had to swallow bitter laughter. And ugly though it might be, I couldn’t suppress the surge of jealousy. Of course they’d support him no matter what. It was only me that they left hanging out to dry if I didn’t do exactly what they wanted me to.

But given what I now knew about my origins, could I really blame them?

I smiled grimly to myself. You bet your ass I could. I’d been doing it all my life. Why should I stop now?