Speak of the Devil (32 page)

It was a woman, no doubt Abraham’s current host, but I didn’t know her. Maybe about thirty years old, reasonably pretty, except for the feral flicker in her eyes. Or maybe that was just the reflected light of the candle she held—in the hand that
wasn’t
holding a gun, that is.

“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, as if I didn’t know.

“If you really have to ask, then my answer would be meaningless,” she responded.

There was another whimper, and Abraham’s mystery host glanced into the room behind the open door. She apparently liked what she saw, because she smiled as she turned back to me.

“Come on in,” she said. “See what I have planned for this evening’s entertainment. Move slowly, though. Sudden moves will have severe consequences. And stay where I can see you.”

My hands itching for the Taser, I started to walk toward her. She backed up as I approached, keeping a substantial distance between us while making sure neither one of us lost sight of the other. Sweat trickled down the small of my back, though I wasn’t particularly hot.

You want to take over now, Lugh?
I asked.

Not yet. I want to leave you in control as long as possible. Maybe that will make you less sick in the aftermath
.

I wasn’t holding my breath on that one, but since I preferred being in control anyway, I didn’t argue.

Slowly, I crept forward as Abraham backed up, until I was finally able to see what awaited me in the
room beyond. I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t what I got.

Another woman I didn’t know lay on the floor at the opposite end of the room. Pixie-cut blond hair framed a heart-shaped face, which was streaked with runny mascara. She was the source of all the little whimpers, though she barely seemed to be conscious. I could see no obvious wounds, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t seriously hurt.

“Who is that?” I asked Abraham.

“That is Jessica Miles. You know, Jordan Maguire’s ex?”

I nodded to indicate that I recognized the name. “What is she doing here? And what’s wrong with her?”

I wasn’t entirely surprised that he ignored my questions. “Tell me, have you figured out why I’m unhappy with you yet?” He frowned theatrically. “You
have
figured out that I’m a demon, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That part’s pretty clear. And you’re pissed at me because Jordan Maguire didn’t burn.”

He nodded. Or should I say “she”? It was rather confusing. I decided since demons usually adopt their hosts’ names that I would think of my enemy as “she” for the time being.

“Very good. I had no idea whether you were smart enough to put the pieces together or not. How nice not to have to draw you a picture.”

I tried taking a cautious step closer, but her eyes narrowed, and her finger flexed on the trigger. I froze, and she smiled.

“To make a long story short,” she said, “Jessica here helped me frame my good friend Jordan for hitting her. She’s a wicked, wicked person. A murderer. And a stone-cold bitch.”

“None of that clarifies why she’s here.”

“Patience, patience. You’ve fucked up everything I’ve tried to do, and if I want to take my own sweet time explaining how the game will end, then it’s my prerogative.” She looked at me expectantly.

If she thought I’d argue, she had another think coming. I knew crazy when I saw it, and it was staring me right in the face. Reasoning with a crazy person seemed like more effort than it was worth. I made a zipping-my-mouth gesture and waited.

Her lips tugged downward in an almost petulant expression. Jessica took that moment to issue another whimper. She made what appeared to be a feeble attempt to get up, but she collapsed almost immediately.

Abraham smiled. “To answer your question about what’s wrong with our dear friend Jessica, she’s drugged to the gills. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s conscious. I thought I’d have to wake her up for the grand finale.”

What the hell was this psycho up to
now?

Abraham moved a little closer to Jessica, and the light of the candle glinted off something on the floor. A kitchen knife. Not one of those big-ass chef’s knifes, but not a tiny little paring knife, either. I’m no expert in the kitchen, but I decided this was probably a utility knife.

Abraham put the candle down on the floor. It was a fat pillar type, so it didn’t need any kind of holder. The gun didn’t waver in its aim.

“I’ve wiped it clean of prints,” Abraham said, then stood and kicked the knife across the floor toward me. Her smile became even more vicious. “Pick it up!”

The knife came to a stop against the wall, a little bit to my left. Unfortunately, I was beginning to see where this was leading, and I didn’t like it one bit.

I swallowed hard, though I made no move toward
the knife. “You failed to frame me for the last two murders, but this time …” I couldn’t finish my own sentence.

Abraham laughed, having a jolly old time contemplating murder and mayhem. “This time, it won’t be a frame. This time, you’ll be guilty as hell. Now pick up the fucking knife.”

Any ideas?
I asked Lugh.

Maybe it was just my imagination, but his voice in my head sounded tense and strained.
Do as she says. As long as she’s got that gun on us, we can’t afford not to. Maybe once she thinks we’re doing what she wants, she’ll relax her guard a bit and give me an opportunity
.

Too many maybes! But, as he said, we had no choice but to obey as long as she had that gun pointed at my head.

Moving slowly, in case she had an itchy trigger finger, I retrieved the knife. It looked lethally sharp.

While I bent over to pick up the knife, Abraham knelt by Jessica’s feet and grabbed her ankle. Her aim didn’t waver the whole time.

“When I tell you to,” she said, “you’re going to very, very slowly come closer. I’ll want you to come kneel by her head.” She shook Jessica’s ankle, hard. “Come on, honey, stay awake for this. You don’t want to sleep through your own gruesome murder, now do you?”

Jessica sobbed and made a feeble attempt to free her ankle from Abraham’s grip. Abraham continued to smile up at me, savoring every moment.

“That knife I gave you is a little short for the job,” Abraham continued. “It’ll take quite a few stabs before she finally gives up the ghost.” She held up Jessica’s ankle. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go anywhere, but she’ll probably find she has some fight left
in her when you start stabbing her. It’ll be a shame if she gets your skin cells under her fingernails.” Her laugh was maniacal. Almost over the top, really. Nothing like being trapped in a dark room with a B-movie horror psycho holding a gun to your head.

“Come on over,” Abraham invited when the laughter died. “Slowly.”

I swallowed hard and stayed put. “What if I refuse?” I asked, just to make sure I fully understood the situation.

Another psycho-cackle. “Then we all go our separate ways, and every person on that list I gave you dies.”

“You won’t just shoot me in the head?”

She snorted. “Way too quick and easy.”

“So you don’t actually need that gun.” Hey, a girl can hope, right?

“It’s to discourage you from trying anything heroic,” Abraham explained.

It was my turn to snort, though it probably sounded pretty forced and phony. “Like you’re in any danger from me!”

“I like to be cautious. For all I know, you have another Taser on you. And don’t get any funny ideas about sacrificing yourself by forcing me to shoot. If I have to kill you, then you’ll have cheated me of my revenge yet again, and I’ll be forced to take it out on your loved ones. I have nothing else to live for, after all. Now get your ass over here and get to work.”

I swallowed hard and shook my head. “What did Maguire’s demon do to you that’s worth all this mayhem?”

“You’re stalling, and I have no patience for it. Move!”

I started edging forward, my mind working frantically.
Lugh, I don’t know what to do!

Just keep following her orders
.

A shiver ran up and down my spine as an ugly suspicion hit me.
Tell me we’re not actually going to kill her
.

That may be the only way to get Abraham relaxed enough for me to take him by surprise
.

But—

Remember, as far as Jessica knows, she caused Maguire’s demon to be executed in a fit of jealousy. This is not an inappropriate punishment
.

Oh, so now you’re going all Old Testament on me, are you?

I guess my subconscious desire not to be sick as a dog for the foreseeable future had helped me resurrect at least some of my mental barriers, because I actually felt it when Lugh tried to take over. Reflexively, I fought him.

“Get over here!” Abraham barked. “If I have to tell you again, then I’ll go to Plan B, which you’ve already indicated you don’t like.”

Moving while fighting to keep Lugh out of control was almost impossible. However, in my already weakened state, keeping Lugh out was
entirely
impossible. Between one step and the next, my free will was taken from me.

I understood Lugh’s point. In a rational, logical way, I knew he was right, and we had to kill Jessica Miles if that’s what it took. It might be our only chance to stop Abraham—our only chance that he might lower the gun, or at least waver in his aim so that if he shot us, it wasn’t in the head. Lugh could heal most gunshot wounds, and with the element of surprise on our side, he was likely to be able to overpower Abraham even wounded.

No matter how logical it was, I couldn’t bear the idea of killing someone in cold blood.

I’m doing it, not you
, Lugh reminded me, but that didn’t make me feel any better about it.

Lugh continued to follow Abraham’s orders and knelt by Jessica’s head. She took a weird, awkward swing at him. Maybe she was hoping to knock the knife out of his hand, but she hit the wrong arm. Her nails managed to dig in, though, conveniently getting my skin under them as further evidence that I was her murderer.

“To answer your earlier question,” Abraham said, looking a little wild-eyed, “Brennus and I were rivals in love—several times, actually—and I never came out the winner.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Lugh mumbled.

“Shut up!” Abraham snarled, and the gun wavered slightly. But not enough—and based on the madness in his eyes, we were out of time.

“I’m sorry, Jessica,” Lugh said, and his knife arm started to swing down toward her back.

A bunch of things happened at once then. There was the distinctive sound of a Taser pop, coming from the hallway outside. Abraham’s body jerked spastically. Losing his grip both on the gun and on Jessica’s ankle, he crumpled into a heap. And Lugh, with his demon-quick reflexes, managed to arrest his swing just short of Jessica’s back.

Lugh turned toward the doorway, where Barbie was ejecting the spent Taser cartridge. She smiled at us, though her eyes were a little too wide, and her hands were shaking.

“Whew,” she said. “That was close.”

“What are you doing here?” Lugh asked.

Let me back in
, I demanded.

And how will you explain to Barbie why you’re fine one moment and puking your guts out the next?

Argh, he had a point there. I hoped the amount of
time he remained in control didn’t contribute too much to the misery level I’d suffer when I was back in the driver’s seat.

Barbie shrugged, trying to look casual. She almost succeeded, too. “It was nice of you to leave that note with all the details sitting on your dining room table. Made it real easy for me to find you.”

Behind me, Jessica was breathing hard, like she’d just run a marathon, but Lugh didn’t seem too interested in her panic attack, or whatever it was. Instead, he said exactly what I was thinking.

“You were in my apartment? How? And
why?”

Barbie, looking smug, came farther into the room, though she kept a healthy distance between herself and the temporarily disabled demon.

“I’m a private investigator,” Barbie reminded me. “About eighty percent of my job is convincing people to do things or tell me things they’re not supposed to. Saul’s staying at my place tonight and he needed an overnight bag. He’s still pissed about something you said to him, and didn’t want to run into you, so I agreed to go for him. The gentleman at the front desk of your building was very accommodating.”

Jessica’s harsh breaths were now even louder and faster, punctuated with little growling sounds that sounded more like anger than fear or pain. Barbie came closer.

“Hey, is she all right?” she asked.

Suddenly, Jessica’s leg kicked out, catching Barbie right in the shin. I heard the sickening crunch of breaking bone only seconds before Barbie screamed in pain.

And then Jessica was on me, punching, kicking, and clawing. For just a moment, Lugh and I both failed to recognize what was going on. Long enough
for Jessica to lift me off my feet and toss me into the wall.

Lugh kept me from feeling any pain, but even
he
had the wind knocked out of him, and by the time he’d recovered, Jessica was on him again. But, of course, it wasn’t Jessica, it was Abraham.

Lugh managed to evade the punch that Jessica threw at his face. Which was a damn good thing, since that punch left a sizeable hole in the wall. Lugh threw both arms around Jessica, trying to pin her arms while dragging her to the floor beneath him. He was making at least a token effort not to kill Abraham’s current human host, but he’d underestimated Abraham’s strength.

Abraham broke Lugh’s grip, and I felt Lugh’s shock as we were once again airborne, heading for a wall. Lugh managed a patently nonhuman maneuver, executing a complicated twist and somersault in the air so that he managed to land on his feet instead of slamming into the wall.

Jessica’s mouth dropped open. “What the fuck?” she screamed, and I could see the mingled glows of madness and a demonic essence in her eyes. “You were
exorcized!
”

Lugh grinned at her, and I got the sick impression that he was rather enjoying himself. “Surprise!” he said, then charged Jessica again.