The Devil You Know

CHAPTER 4

I went home with a lot to think about, but once I stepped through the door of my apartment and turned on the light, all the things I should have been thinking about fled my mind, and I hurried to the kitchen to check my answering machine.

The machine claimed I had two messages, and I held my breath as I hit the Play button.

“If you would like to make a call, please hang up and try again,” the machine said, and I hit the Erase button with a curse, waiting for the next message. “Hello!” a mechanical voice said. “I’m trying to reach—” I cursed again and erased the non-message.

It was now officially one week since Brian had last called. I’d told myself the cute, endearing messages he’d left on my machine every day were annoying. Not that it had stopped me from listening to them, mind you. When I’d been having a particularly bad day, I’d save his messages and play them over and over.

Maybe he was taking a vacation, on a cruise ship somewhere with no access to a phone. A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed hard. It was supposed to be a good thing if he’d finally gotten the message I’d been trying to shove down his gullet. Too bad my heart couldn’t seem to keep that in mind.

Missing the sound of his voice, the feel of his naked skin against mine, the taste of his tongue in my mouth, I went to bed. And lay there wide awake, tossing restlessly, my mind unable to shut down for the night.

My nerves felt twitchy, my skin oversensitive. Memories of cuddling up with Brian after a spectacular bout of lovemaking assaulted and aroused me. My hand slid down my belly toward my panties, but I jerked it away at the last moment. I knew it was incredibly silly, but I didn’t want to have an orgasm without Brian. I’d cave eventually, the physical need too strong to deny, but for the moment, I humored the part of me that still hoped I could make things work between us. If we did somehow, miraculously get back together, our reunion would be even sweeter if I’d been starving myself the whole time we were apart.

The last thing I remembered before I finally fell asleep was raising my head and glaring at the glowing numbers on my clock that told me it was three AM. Somewhere around one, I’d gotten up and played umpteen million games of Spider Solitaire to try to quiet my mind, but it didn’t seem to have worked. When I saw how late it was, I was tempted to give the night up as a lost cause, but I decided to give sleep one last shot. I should have known there was no rest for the wicked, because the minute I finally drifted off, I awakened in Lugh’s imaginary living room.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at Lugh, who sat on his couch smiling at me, his amber eyes twinkling with humor. He’d gone with his S&M poster-boy look tonight, which he tends to do whenever I’ve had impure thoughts about Adam and Dominic, and was wearing something that was either a shirt cobbled together from black leather straps or a complicated bondage device I wanted no part of—despite the fact that the shirt/bondage device framed his nipples in the perfect, mouth-watering display, and the fact that my hormones couldn’t help taking in the golden, almost tawny color of his skin and the ripple of muscles beneath it.

Damn, I sure was missing the healthy sex life I had enjoyed with Brian. I mean, I’d have to be dead not to be turned on by Lugh, but if I were getting any in real life, surely it wouldn’t feel so…urgent.

Even though he can’t control me as well as most demons control their hosts, Lugh does have full access to my thoughts and memories. He knows when I’m aroused, no matter how much I might want to hide it. Which was no doubt the source of that damn smile on his face.

I stomped over to the chair across from him. He might know how much I liked the view, but that didn’t mean I had to admit it. “Why couldn’t you just let me sleep?” I griped.

His laugh was low and sexy and made every cell in my body thrum. “I was under the impression you had some questions for me.”

That was true, but it would have been easier to remember the questions if he weren’t dressed like that. I stared down at my hands, rather than at him. My hormones calmed, though I remained hyper-aware of his presence.

“Could Raphael be back on the Mortal Plain yet?” I asked.

“Certainly. If he was trusting enough to give someone on this plain his True Name, they could have summoned him back immediately.”

My gaze drifted away from my hands. “Do you think he is? Trusting enough, I mean.”

An expression crossed Lugh’s face that looked suspiciously like bitterness. “No. Only I was naive enough to reveal my True Name to anyone. But it was a long time ago, and relations between myself and my brothers weren’t so strained yet. At least, not outwardly. When they both reneged on the promise to reciprocate, I had my first inkling that all was not well between us. I’m sure Raphael has learned from my mistake. But even if he didn’t reveal his True Name, rank has its privileges, and he could have made his way back by now. Especially with Dougal’s help.”

Until I’d met Lugh, I hadn’t known anything about True Names, hadn’t even known they’d existed. I still knew very little—only that someone who knew a demon’s True Name could summon him specifically to the Mortal Plain. Questions tumbled over themselves in my brain trying to get out, but Lugh didn’t wait for me to sort through them.

“Don’t you think you should speak to your mother?” The look on his face told me the change of subject was deliberate—and nonnegotiable.

I was tempted to press, despite my conviction that it wouldn’t do any good, but I managed to resist. “You’re not going to lay a guilt trip on me, are you? Because you have to know my mom isn’t going to tell me anything even if I cave and talk to her.”

“I know you believe that. I don’t know if it’s true.”

My head jerked up, and I opened my mouth to say something scathing. Lugh stopped my words with an imperious gesture.

“But I also know,” he continued loudly, “that the more anyone tries to talk you into doing it, the more you’re going to dig your heels in.”

That effectively shut me up. He was right, of course, though I wasn’t completely comfortable with the admission. It made me sound kind of childish.

“So if you didn’t bring me here to persuade me to do what you want, and you’re not going to answer all the questions I have, then what are you actually up to?” I asked. I realized my eyes were roving over the exposed areas of his chest, and I once again dropped my gaze to my own hands. They were much less interesting.

“Would you believe I was just hoping we could get reacquainted?”

“No.”

He laughed again, tricking me into looking up. God, he was gorgeous! His hair was unbound today, framing his face in a raven’s wing halo. My skin remembered how silky that hair was to the touch. Not that we’d ever had any sexual relationship, nothing above some very aggressive flirting on his part—and some rampant desire on mine.

He cocked his head at me. “You’re not dating Brian anymore. Why are you still so uncomfortable with your attraction to me?”

I tried not to squirm. “Hey, you’re the one who can see into all the nooks and crannies in my mind. You tell me.”

He looked terribly amused. “Would you actually listen to anything I told you?”

Of course, he knew the answer to that, too. “Is there any chance we could just stick to business?”

He leaned forward on the couch, letting his hair flow over his shoulders to drape over the skin of his chest. I pressed my thighs together and reminded myself of the unfair advantage he had in the seduction and manipulation department.

“Your emotional well-being is my business,” he said. “You’re my host, and yet I’m utterly dependent on you. It is not the most comfortable of situations for either of us. The better you cope with the reality of our relationship, the better off we’ll both be.”

I shook my head. “None of that means you have to keep coming on to me!”

He met my mutinous gaze. “Do you think I’d keep doing it if you weren’t responding to me?”

“Since this is a dream and you control everything about it, you can make me respond whether I want to or not.”

He smiled, the expression equal parts amusement and exasperation. “Keep telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better. You are, after all, the admitted queen of denial.”

“And proud of it, too.”

He laughed, the sound like warm black velvet gliding over my skin. Goose bumps peppered my arms, and Lugh’s unique scent—a blend of musk and spice like nothing I’d ever smelled before—tickled my nose. I might deny to him that I felt any genuine attraction, but it was getting harder by the minute to deny it to myself. I closed my eyes, willing myself to wake up, to escape.

Lugh interrupted my thoughts. “As a prince among demons, I have rarely had the opportunity to walk the Mortal Plain. You are only my third host in a very long life. But I’ve never seen—or even heard of—someone who keeps so much of herself walled off from the outside world.”

My eyes popped open. “What are you, my therapist?”

He smiled. “You, my dear, would drive a therapist to drink.”

I couldn’t help my reluctant laugh. He definitely had me pegged. “My parents made me see a therapist when I was a teenager. And if I didn’t drive him to drink, it wasn’t for lack of trying.”

“I know,” Lugh reminded me, and I scowled. He gave me an apologetic shrug. “I can’t help that I see inside your mind. Should I pretend I don’t?”

I sighed. “No, of course not. But I’m sure you see well enough to know how uncomfortable I am with the idea.”

He nodded. “I do. And I’m sorry. But I can’t help it.”

It seemed to me we were at an impasse, and I desperately hoped that meant he was about to let me wake up—or, better yet, drift off into dreamless slumber.

No dice.

“There is one part of your mind I can’t see into,” he said.

That sure as hell got my attention. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there are some memories that are so solidly walled off that I can’t breach your defenses even when I try.”

I instantly knew what he was talking about, but fascinating though it might be to know there was anything in my mind he couldn’t read, I still latched onto what—to me—was the most important thing he’d said.

“You’ve been trying to breach my defenses?” My voice had risen and sounded shrill. I tried to take it down a notch. “And here you were apologizing for what you couldn’t help seeing! For an apology to count, you have to actually mean it.”

“I do mean it. But you can’t expect a demon not to be fascinated when he finds a part of his host’s mind that he can’t penetrate.”

“Sure I can!”

He sighed and shook his head. If I was lucky, I’d drive him to drink.

“So you’re not at all interested in this fact yourself?” he asked. “You aren’t even mildly curious as to why I can’t see into that dark corner of your mind?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know that it’s any great mystery. If I don’t actually remember it myself, then why should you be able to see it?”

He gave me a knowing look. “Because the memory’s in there. Nothing that happened to you damaged your memory itself—you’ve just repressed it with frightening ferocity.”

I scowled at him. “I was drugged to the gills the whole time I was at the hospital! I don’t think it’s unusual that I wouldn’t have much memory of the time.”

I had just turned thirteen when I was diagnosed with encephalitis, a rare but potentially life-threatening inflammation of the brain. I’d been suffering from headaches and fever and a stiff neck, and my parents had rushed me to the hospital fearing that I had the much more common meningitis. By the time I was admitted, I was delirious, and I don’t remember a thing from that time until I got out of the hospital.

I’d spent more than a week at The Healing Circle, much of the time on a ventilator, fighting for my life. My parents told me I was unconscious throughout most of it, and that when I was conscious I suffered from delusions and hallucinations. The doctors determined that I’d gotten sick from a mosquito bite. Unbelievable how much trouble such a tiny insect can cause.

Yeah, there were times when the idea that I’d lost a whole week of my life as if it never existed was freaky and strange. But most of the time it seemed easy to explain away.

Lugh looked like he was deep in thought, but of course he didn’t let the conversation die a natural death.

“I don’t know if I can explain it to you in a way you’d understand,” he said. “Maybe you have to be able to see as intimately into another’s mind as I can for it to make sense. But believe me, whatever’s going on with your memory is not normal, and it’s not just because of drugs. You were drugged when Raphael tricked you into summoning me. I can feel a…blank spot, for lack of a better term, in your memory from where the drugs damaged it. The time you were at the hospital isn’t blank, it’s walled off. There’s a difference.” He licked his lips as if nervous. “Something happened to you in that hospital. Something your subconscious is desperate to forget.”

I shivered. “If my subconscious is that desperate to forget it, then there must be a damn good reason.”

“Indeed,” Lugh agreed. “And the fact that whatever it is happened at The Healing Circle, a demon-run hospital, makes me extremely curious.”

“That makes one of us,” I growled. “I have enough problems now without digging up shit from the past. Just let it go.”

He opened his mouth on a protest, then closed it before he actually said anything. “All right. I’ll let it go for now.” He smiled at me. “I should take my own advice about not causing you to dig your heels in deeper.”

I sighed in relief, though I knew I hadn’t heard the end of this topic. “Thanks.”

He acknowledged that with a nod. “I suppose I should let you get some more peaceful sleep.”

“Thanks,” I said again.

“Sweet dreams.” He gave me one last smoldering look before my eyes slid closed and the dream dissolved.

The next morning, I awoke in sleep-deprived grouch mode. I had an exorcism scheduled at ten-fifteen, but when I called the hospital to check on Andy, I found out he was being released at nine-thirty. He wasn’t in his room when I called, but the nurse I talked to confirmed my suspicion that he was planning to go home with my parents. I decided I had to show up at the hospital before they did and use my boundless charm to convince Andy to come with me instead. I had a feeling this whole mess would make me late for the exorcism, but protecting Andy was a higher priority. I doubted the state of Pennsylvania would agree, but I’d deal with that later.

I showed up at the hospital at eight thirty-five—way too early in the morning for my tastes—and found Andy alone in his room, sitting in the wheelchair and staring off into space. He didn’t notice when I stood in the doorway, so I rapped lightly on the door. He blinked as if just waking up, then turned to look at me. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it.

Feeling awkward, I stuffed my hands into my pants pockets and resisted the urge to scuff my feet. “How are you doing this morning, bro?”

He shrugged. “I’m going to live with Mom and Dad until I get my strength back. How would you feel in my shoes?”

I grimaced. “Like a prisoner about to be executed.”

He didn’t seem to have the energy to muster a laugh, but he smiled at least. “All right, I’m not quite that bad. But I’m not exactly looking forward to it.”

I stepped all the way into the room and shut the door behind me. Andy raised his eyebrows at that.

I cleared my throat, leaning my back against the door to make sure there would be no interruptions. “Maybe you’d be better off staying with me until you’re ready to make it on your own,” I suggested.

When he started laughing, I felt a sudden, almost irresistible urge to throttle him. Heat flooded my face, a combination of anger and hurt coursing through my veins.

Andy stifled his laughter and shook his head at me. “Don’t look so murderous! Can you really blame me for laughing at the image of you as nursemaid?”

I glared at him. “Hey, this is me we’re talking about. I can blame you for the sky being blue if I want to.” But secretly I had to admit, he had a point. I’m not exactly what you’d call a motherly sort.

He laughed again, but it didn’t sting so much this time. “Good point. But I still think we’ll get along better if we aren’t living in the same house.”

“Apartment,” I corrected, and the hurt was back even though I knew he was right. “But we’ll also get along better if Raphael doesn’t kill you.”

I saw my shot hit home and wished I’d presented my argument more tactfully. Andy’s hands clenched into fists, and his face—already pale from too many weeks in the hospital—went white.

Mentally giving myself a swift kick in the ass, I moved farther into the room and sat on one of the visitors’ chairs, pulling it around so I could face my brother.

“Do you know anything he might want to kill you for?” I asked.

“No,” he answered, too quickly. “He kept me shut off from the outside world much of the time, when he was hiding something or we…disagreed.” He shivered. “It wasn’t anything like what I was expecting.”

My heart ached for him. Yeah, he’d been a volunteer, and technically it was his own fault that he’d been miserable, but he’d only been twenty-one when he’d invited Raphael into this world and into his body. That’s awfully young to make a decision that in theory would be irreversible for the rest of your life. He had known the risks, but knowing the risks and understanding them were two different things.

I’m not the touchy-feely sort, but I reached out and clasped Andy’s hand anyway. His fingers wrapped tightly around mine, as though he were hanging on for dear life.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling completely inadequate. Surely there should be something I could say to lessen his pain, to chase that haunted expression from his eyes. But there was nothing.

A perfunctory knock on the door interrupted the silence. Neither one of us said anything, but the door swung open anyway, and a distinguished-looking man about fifty years old walked in.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked, looking back and forth between me and Andy. He wore a traditional white lab coat, and I could see from the ID badge clipped to his lapel that this was Dr. Frederick Neely. I had never met him before, but I knew he was one of the doctors who had been treating Andy. Reluctantly, I let go of Andy’s hand.

“Would it matter if you were?” Andy asked.

The doctor laughed, and I gave my brother a sidelong glance. That sounded like something I would say. Andy was usually polite to a fault.

Correction—the Andy I’d known ten years ago had been polite to a fault. Even ten years of normal life would have changed him. Ten years with Raphael might have warped him beyond recognition. Only time would tell.

“I just need to give you a final checkup before discharging you,” Dr. Neely said. He looked at me pointedly. “If you would excuse us please, Morgan.”

I blinked in surprise. I’d never seen this guy before, so how did he know who I was? “Have we met?” I asked, though I knew the answer.

Dr. Neely shook his head. “No, but the nurses told me you were here.” He reached out his hand. “I’m Dr. Neely,” he said, putting on a charming smile.

I shook his hand. We had a brief who-can-squeeze-harder contest, but since The Healing Circle was crawling with demons, I decided I’d better give up before I learned the hard way that Dr. Neely was one of them. He didn’t quite have the physique of your stereotypical host, but he was close enough to make me cautious. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes that told me he knew exactly what I was thinking, and I decided on the spot that I didn’t like him one bit. Andy’s body language showed me he shared my opinion.

“Pleased to meet you,” I said, my voice oozing insincerity.

“Likewise,” Dr. Neely answered. He sounded more sincere than I did, but not by much. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind excusing us?”

“Never mind,” Andy said. “I’m ready to get out of here. Morgan’s here to take me home.”

Dr. Neely raised an eyebrow at that. No doubt he knew Andy was supposed to go home with our parents, but he didn’t comment. “Just as soon as I’ve had a chance to examine you.”

But Andy shook his head. “No. Now. I’ve been in this place long enough.”

Dr. Neely looked stern. “I’m afraid I can’t discharge you without examining you first.”

“I don’t need your permission to leave.” Andy gave me a significant look, and I took the hint. I took hold of the handles of his wheelchair as he released the brake.

Dr. Neely frowned. “This is medically inadvisable,” he said, blocking the doorway.

Andy didn’t answer, and I started pushing him toward the door. I’d have been happy to run over Dr. Neely if necessary. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if he called the nurses and orderlies to stop me, but I’d cross that bridge only if I had to. He had no legal right to keep Andy here against his will.

Dr. Neely held his ground until we were almost on top of him, then took a quick step to the side. I bent close to Andy’s ear as I pushed him down the hall.

“We’re leaving without your personal effects,” I pointed out.

“I don’t care,” he said tightly. “Just get me the hell out of here.”

I was happy to oblige.