The Devil's Due (18 page)

“I’m glad we had this little talk,” Raphael said, and once again I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic.

Lugh made a little snorting sound that could have been agreement, amusement, or disdain. Then he jerked Raphael forward and gave him one of those back-thumping hugs men are so fond of. Raphael stiffened for a moment, then responded in kind.

It was all very touching, but I was getting more and more antsy as every second ticked away. I wanted control back, and I wanted it
now
. I lost the battle against my nerves, and found myself trying to close my mental doors without any conscious will.

And then suddenly, Lugh was gone, and my body was my own once more. I could tell from the frost in Raphael’s eyes that he’d noticed the difference immediately. He and Lugh might have made some kind of peace with one another, but that didn’t mean things were all right between the two of us.

Raphael opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, then shook his head as he thought better of it. Without a word to me, he turned his back and strode out of the room. Seconds later, the front door slammed, and he was gone.

While I was in the process of figuring out what to do with myself all day, I checked my phone messages from the office and discovered I wouldn’t have to go looking for things to do after all. I was absurdly grateful to be able to schedule a routine exorcism for the middle of this afternoon. Maybe for just a little while, I could pretend my life was normal. At least, as normal as an exorcist’s life ever is.

I caused a bit of a stir, showing up at the courthouse with my ostentatious bruises. I told anyone who asked that I got mugged. It was a whole lot simpler that way.

The guy I’d been hired to exorcize, one Jordan Maguire, had been a legal demon host for five years. He’d apparently run into trouble when he’d split with his girlfriend, with whom he had a two-year-old daughter. They’d been arguing—loudly, according to the neighbors. When the demon stormed out of her apartment, the girlfriend had called the police and accused him of assault. She even had the bruises to show for it.

If he’d been human, there would have been a protracted inquiry into what had happened. However, demons have few rights, and the legal system tolerates no hint of impropriety. I felt kind of sorry for the demon, who swore he hadn’t hurt his girlfriend, that she’d been two-timing him with another guy and that it was the other guy who had hit her. But he’d already been convicted and sentenced, and I knew I was only sending him back to the Demon Realm, not killing him, so my guilt only went so far.

Maguire’s demon was a bitch to cast out, but I managed it.

The guilt evaporated completely when the demon was gone. About eighty percent of hosts whose demons are exorcized end up as vegetables afterward, but every once in a while, it was even worse. This was one of those times. As soon as the demon was gone, the host’s brain completely shut down, no longer capable of directing such vital bodily functions as breathing. He wasn’t just brain damaged; he was brain-dead.

He was taken from the courthouse by ambulance, and would be admitted to the hospital until his family could be notified. Then they’d take him off life support, and he’d be dead. I shuddered to think what the demon must have done to him to make him shut down so completely. And I prayed Raphael wasn’t treating my brother the same way.

Depressed as hell, I went to my office and filled out the paperwork. I hadn’t heard from Adam, and, being the impatient sort, I tried calling him. I went straight to voice mail and didn’t bother leaving a message.

I was in pain from the beating, depressed by the exorcism, worried about Dominic, and angry about being tossed off Tommy Brewster’s case. It wasn’t a good combination of emotions, and it left me with a burning desire to
do
something.

What I decided to do might have been reckless, especially given the very unequivocal instructions I’d been given to keep my nose out of Brewster’s business, but I decided it was time to pay another visit to The Seven Deadlies. Shae and Tommy seemed to have become buddies—or at least accomplices. Perhaps I could “gently” persuade Shae to tell me what Tommy was up to.

The thought of giving Shae a hard time brought a smile to my face. The best part about it was that because she was an illegal demon herself, she wouldn’t be able to report me to the police if I got a little … aggressive in my questioning. Adam had to play seminice with her, or his well of information might dry up. I was under no such restrictions.

I showed up at the club at nine, just when its doors were opening for the night. The same bouncer I’d haggled with last time was on duty. There was no question that he recognized me—I’m not one who blends into a crowd—but he also remembered that Shae had let me in last time. When I asked him to let Shae know I wanted to talk to her, he made a
sotto voce
call and then told me she’d be right down. I found a corner where I’d be out of the way and waited.

I wasn’t shocked when Shae’s definition of “right down” and mine differed significantly. I refrained from doing the pointed-stare-at-my-watch thing when she finally swept out of the Employees Only doorway.

Apparently, she favored the dramatic when it came to her wardrobe. Today, she wore a neon-orange silk tunic with frog closures and a mandarin collar over skinny black pants. I don’t know how, but somehow she’d found a pair of stiletto heels that exactly matched the color of the tunic. She should have looked ridiculous, but, of course, she didn’t.

Shae looked me over unabashedly, her gaze lingering on the bruises. I clenched my teeth, waiting for her to make a smart-ass comment about them, but she just smiled at me—the predatory shark smile I’d come to expect from her.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “This makes twice in one week. Perhaps we should make you a member.”

I suppressed a shudder at the thought. “Your doorman said you had a three-month wait list.”

“I’d be willing to make an exception for you.”

I’m sure we both knew that Hell would freeze over before I joined, but I played along with her anyway. Trying to reel in my prey. Or just trying to give myself time to change my mind and walk away.

I raised my eyebrows. “Why would you do that?” I had to resist the urge to shrink back when Shae reached out and hooked an elbow around my arm. “Because you provide boundless entertainment,” she said, trying to steer me toward the door into the heart of the club.

I dug in my heels. I didn’t want to go in there again, especially not on Shae’s arm. “Let’s cut the crap,” I said. “I have no interest is setting foot in your club again.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You already have.” “You know what I mean. Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?”

She let go of my arm—thank God—and gazed at me curiously. I put on my blandest expression and hoped that I was getting better at hiding what I was feeling. Shae would have creeped me out even if I
didn’t
know she was an illegal demon. There was just something about her. Not evil, per se, but perhaps … chaotic.

Whatever she read or didn’t read in my face, Shae seemed satisfied. She smiled at me once more and gestured to the Employees Only door.

“Come along,” she said, heading that way. “We can talk in my office.”

I wasn’t surprised the door was locked, but I was a bit surprised to see it was key-carded. The card reader was hidden in a particularly deep shadow, and I hadn’t noticed it before. I wondered if following Shae through that door was a monumentally stupid thing to do. My Taser was in my purse, but I’d learned through hard experience that it didn’t do me a whole lot of good in there.

I grabbed the door, which was heavy and solid, but didn’t immediately follow. Shae turned back and raised an eyebrow.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, and her smile told me she knew exactly what the problem was.

“I’m expecting a call from Adam,” I told her, which was actually true. “I was just wondering if you get cell phone reception in here. It looks kind of … formidable.”

Yeah, okay, the “expected phone call” gambit was a cliché straight out of about three thousand suspense movies. Usually used to no avail, come to think of it. But it was the first thing that popped into my mind, and I didn’t have enough time to come up with something better.

Shae laughed, but at least she was kind enough not to berate me for my lack of originality.

“You’ll have no trouble getting a signal,” she assured me. “I use my cell in here all the time.”

It was time for me to make up my mind. Was I following Shae into the nether regions of her club, away from all possible witnesses, or would I play it safe, tell her we’d talk some other time, and get the hell out?

Playing it safe has never been one of my fortes, so of course I followed her.

I suppose I’d been expecting something mysteriouslooking based on the key card entry. What I found instead was a hallway that could have been plucked out of any modest-sized office building in the city. On my right, a janitor’s closet. On my left, a supply room. Just past that was Shae’s office. At the very end of the hall, there was an unmarked door with a card reader beside it.

“What’s in there?” I asked Shae as she pushed open her office door and gestured me inside.

“Just more offices,” Shae answered, but I don’t think she expected me to believe her.

What was behind that door was none of my business, I reminded myself. I was here to see what I could find out about Tommy Brewster, not poke my nose into the shadier sides of Shae’s business.

Shae’s office was as striking as Shae herself. The walls were painted black, and the floor was covered with black, industrial-style carpet. Her desk was gleaming black lacquer with silver accents, and her chair was black mesh with silver tubing. On each side of her desk was a shiny metal bookcase, filled with very boring-looking business titles, and the only adornment on the walls were some black and white photographs of cityscapes, each framed in silver.

I found the effect cold and forbidding. But then, it went well with its owner.

Shae gestured me into a guest chair, then took a seat behind her desk and leaned back, crossing her hands behind her head. Her eyes gleamed with interest and speculation as she watched me sit. Under the guise of checking my phone, I opened my purse and made sure I had a clear shot at the Taser. I also armed it and glanced at the battery indicator. It was ready to go, should I need it.

“So,” Shae said, apparently impatient with my dithering, “what can I do for you, Ms. Kingsley?”

I had any number of suggestions, but I didn’t think voicing them would be conducive to a productive discussion. “I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about Tommy Brewster. I hear he’s a frequent visitor to your club, and I gather that the two of you have some kind of a business relationship.”

Shae blinked at me for a moment, then laughed—a deep, rich laughter that I’m sure many men would find sexy as hell. I merely found it irritating. But then, I’m sure that’s what she intended.

“I see you put as much value in subtlety as I do,” Shae said when she could stop laughing.

I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “Subtlety is highly overrated.”

She controlled her laughter, although amusement still tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I couldn’t agree more. So if we’re going to dispense with subtlety, let me ask you what the hell makes you think I’m going to answer any questions about Tommy?”

I considered pulling the Taser to give her some instant motivation. Then I recognized the fundamental problem with that idea. Many demons enjoyed pain, and it seemed likely that a demon who owned a club that catered to the S&M crowd would be one of them. That made threatening her with pain pointless.

“Do you have any personal loyalty to Tommy?” I asked instead.

Shae gave me a droll look. “Honey, do I look like the kind of person who’d have personal loyalty to anyone?”

“Just checking,” I muttered. “If it wouldn’t offend your delicate sensibilities, then, perhaps you and I can reach some kind of arrangement.” She’d played both sides of the fence before. No reason to think she wouldn’t do it again.

I could tell by the sudden glint in her eye that I’d sparked her interest, though her voice remained bland. “What kind of an arrangement did you have in mind?”

I’d never been involved in anything remotely resembling this kind of illicit negotiation, and I realized I didn’t know how to play it. How much should I offer her? I didn’t even know what a ballpark figure might be. When she’d helped me and Adam rescue Brian from Hell, she’d demanded way more money than I could afford, especially while I was still reeling from the financial impact of my house burning down.

When in doubt, lob the ball into the enemy’s court. “How much do you want?” Maybe if I got her to throw out a figure, I could then negotiate her down.

Shae laughed again, and I wished I could stop giving her fodder for amusement. “You don’t have the kind of money it would take to buy me,” she said. “But I’d be willing to consider other forms of payment.”

Remembering the “other form of payment” she’d demanded from Adam and Dominic in the past, I had to fight to suppress a shudder. Fat lot of good that did me, when my face insists on telegraphing everything I’m thinking.

“It all depends on how badly you want the information,” Shae continued. Her eyes traveled up and down the length of my body, and I most definitely did
not
want to know what she was seeing in her mind’s eye at the moment.

I pushed my chair back. This was a dumb idea. As dumb as coming to the club in search of Tommy Brewster the first time. “Not that badly, I guess. Thanks for the chat,” I said, turning to the door. My hand hovered near the opening of my purse, just in case.

She let me step out into the hallway and close the door about halfway before she stopped me.

“Don’t leave angry,” she said. “I’m sure we can reach some kind of mutually acceptable arrangement.”

I stood in the doorway, hesitating. I had a feeling I was being drawn in like a fish on a hook. But I also had a feeling if I played my cards right, I’d get the information I wanted out of Shae. And really, what girl can’t afford to lose a pound of flesh from somewhere on her body?