Demon Possessed (12 page)

That she was important to him she didn’t doubt, hadn’t in months, in almost a year. That he wanted her, wanted her company, she didn’t doubt. And although he’d never said it, she didn’t doubt that he loved her.

It wasn’t as odd as it might have seemed, the fact that he hadn’t said it. She hadn’t either. She’d never really felt the need. Actions worked better, said more; they both spent so much of their time talking, both at work and to each other, that it had simply never seemed necessary. Their Christmas together, when he’d given her the diamond necklace now sitting in her jewelry box on the dresser and told her he’d tried to find one as beautiful as she was but it had been an impossible task. The things she cooked for him and gave to one of the brothers to slip into his desk drawers or leave in his car when he wasn’t looking, so he’d find them and know she was thinking of him. The day he’d told her it was silly of her not to keep things at his place. The day she’d found her radio show on his iPod, because if he couldn’t listen to it live, he’d record it for later.

Those memories stood out, but there were hundreds of other, smaller moments that stood out just as much, that warmed her when she remembered them and made her feel secure. Words were lovely, but they were just words. They couldn’t always be trusted; she of all people knew that.

She didn’t always trust words. She hadn’t always trusted Greyson. But since that Christmas, she had, and he trusted her. That trust between them had been something solid enough, strong enough, to support them both.

So the feeling that she had failed him somehow, that she’d misunderstood something, made her skin colder than it had been before. She ran her palms up his chest, leaned forward and rested her head on it, listening to the steady beat of his heart with her eyes closed; after a moment his hand came to rest on her hair, warm and reassuring.

“You should get some sleep,” he said. “If I know Tera—and I do—she’ll be banging on the door at some ungodly hour, wanting you to go out and play tennis and have a makeover or something.”

“As if I’d let her talk me into that.”

“And thank God. The last thing I want is for you to wander around looking like a Tera clone. I happen to think you’re quite lovely the way you are, despite your crankiness and violent streak.” He shifted position so she could stretch out more easily beside him and she did so, relieved. Whatever had changed in the air changed back; everything was normal again.

“Am I?”

“Cranky and violent? Yes. I hardly think that comes as a surprise.”

She smiled. “No. I mean the other thing.”

“Ah. Fishing for compliments is never an attractive behavior in a lady, you know.”

“Humor me. It’s been a rough night.”

He was silent for a moment, absentmindedly stroking her thigh. Or perhaps not so absentmindedly, after all; his fingers kept inching higher and higher, urging the silky fabric out of the way.

“It has been rather rough.” His other hand found her chin, lifted it to look in her eyes. “I think I know a way to salvage it, though.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like humoring me, I have to say.”

“Oh, I think you’ll be very pleased when I’m done. In fact, I believe I can guarantee it.” His hand moved with more deliberation, eliciting a sharp little gasp from her. “See?”

She managed to nod.

“And to answer your question,
sheshissma
?” His voice was none too steady itself; she’d managed to find a use for her own hands. “I think you know very well what you do to me, and how very much I hope you’ll keep doing it.”

“Show me,” she said.

And he did.

Chapter Thirteen

The knock on the door did indeed come bright and early; the clock by the bed informed Megan that it was quarter past eight. On a workday she would have already been up and moving, but then on a workday she wouldn’t have been awake until almost three the night before.

Either way. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep, and despite her fondness for Tera and her utter gratitude that Tera had come, she wasn’t in the mood.

Along with the sunlight slicing a path through her brain came the unwelcome memories of the night before. Yes, there were one or two very welcome memories in there as well, but for the most part . . . ugh.

Chief of all of them was the conversation she’d had with Greyson. She wanted to believe his sudden interest in getting her to do the ritual was related solely to her safety, but convincing herself of that was more difficult than she’d expected it to be in the hard sharp morning. Having the subject brought up twice in one night seemed a little much for coincidence.

It didn’t matter. She grabbed her robe off the chair and slipped it on, while the pounding continued. Tera could sit and order some room service or something while she took a shower; judging from the closed door and the sound of water running, Greyson was already in there.

Of course, he could have simply leaped in when the knocking started in order to avoid Tera.

She tied the robe’s belt around her waist and turned the knob. “Hi, Ter—Nick!”

Before she could even finish saying his name his arms were around her, squeezing her almost as tight as she squeezed him. Nick Xao-teng was one of Greyson’s oldest friends and probably his closest, and had become one of hers as well. But Nick didn’t have anything to do with the Meegras; he was, he’d once told her, “an independent contractor.”

She hadn’t asked him what exactly that meant.

“What are you doing here? I mean, I’m glad to see you, I just—”

He kissed her soundly on the cheek, gave her one last squeeze, and dipped into a flourished bow. “At your service, hon. Grey called me last night.”

Right. “You’re here to guard me.”

Nick’s eyebrow rose. He hadn’t changed since she’d seen him last, two months before, but he never did. Descended from a Chinese half-succubus mother and a part-psyche-demon father of whom he never spoke, Nick was devastatingly handsome, with an aura of raw sexual energy that he used to full advantage.

Except around her. At least not after their first meeting, when she’d gotten a taste of what it felt like to be seduced by an incubus. He hadn’t realized she was with Greyson, and Greyson had arrived before she’d been able to do much more than lose a little breath—along with dignity—but still. She didn’t think she’d ever forget that feeling, or how angry she’d been.

She was glad she’d forgiven him, though.

“I am indeed here to guard you,” he said. “Although ‘escort’ is really more the way Greyson put it. He said he has some meetings and stuff and asked if I would mind making sure you’re never alone.” He set down his suitcase and closed the door behind him. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“I should hope not.” Greyson emerged from the bedroom, with his hair damp and his shirt untucked. “Not after what a last-minute ticket from Miami to here cost me.”

“Like you can’t afford it,” Nick replied. “Have you traded in the Jag for a solid-gold Rolls yet?”

“You could have one yourself, you know, if you’d—”

“Don’t even start.”

Megan smiled as the men embraced. That was an old discussion, one they seemed to engage in out of habit. Greyson wanted Nick to move from Miami and work with him, to do Carter’s job; Nick resisted. If she’d heard them talk about it once, she’d heard it a hundred times.

She slipped away while they conversed and hurried through a shower. Seeing Nick was a pleasure. Imagining the two of them sitting alone with Tera wasn’t, and she had no doubt Tera would be there any minute.

Sure enough, the witch’s voice floated through the closed bedroom door when she emerged fifteen minutes later. Megan tossed on a plain dark dress—if they were heading over to see Reverend Walther later, which they were, she wanted to look as unobtrusive as possible—and opened the door.

Tera was sitting in the dark leather armchair, a tray over her lap loaded down with food. She barely looked up from her plate when Megan entered. “Hey. Any new information?”

“I was kind of hoping you might have had some ideas.”

Tera shook her head, making nodding wait-a-minute motions while she forced down an enormous bite of muffin. Witches never turned down free food. Or really anything free. Finally she swallowed. “I did a quick check through the Vergadering mainframe last night, but I couldn’t find anything about you, or this hotel, or any indication that someone on one of the watch lists is in town.”

Megan raised her eyebrows and settled on the couch next to Greyson, who rested his hand on her thigh. “Watch list?”

“Yeah, you know. Known assassins, criminals for hire . . . There are a few mercenary witches out there, and we keep tabs on them as best we can.”

“As opposed to simply arresting them,” Greyson said.

“We don’t know exactly where they are,” Tera said, through another chunk of muffin. “We would if we did. We just get rumors about them being in specific cities, specific places. We do what we can.”

“Funny. You always manage to know the exact location of any one of us who got a parking ticket at any given time.”

Tera made a sour face. Megan squeezed Greyson’s thigh hard and cut in before either of them could make it worse. “Thanks for checking, Tera. Is there any chance you just don’t know whoever-it-was is in town?”

Tera glared at Greyson for another second or two before answering. “Of course it’s possible. But if it makes you feel any better, I’m the only witch in the building at the moment. And I’m going to do a little something for you, so you’ll be better able to tell if any of us are around you.”

“You can do that?”

“Of course.” Tera tossed her head. Her long, straight blond hair caught a ray of sunlight and glowed for a moment before falling obediently behind her right shoulder. She gave Greyson and Nick a significant look. “Actually, it’s something we picked up from them.”

“What do you—”

Greyson leaned forward. “You’re going to do a
betchimal
?”

“You know what it is, then.”

“Of course I know what it is. I don’t know how to perform it, since you witches stole the knowledge, but—”

“Oh, will you give me a fucking break, Grey? It’s not like you’re so poor and downtrodden.” Tera gave the walls around them, gleaming pale in the morning light, a significant look. “I didn’t personally steal anything, okay? It’s not my fault you guys lost.”

“No, but you work for—”

“Okay.” Megan stood up. “That’s enough, you two. Can we get back to something that actually matters here? You know, someone trying to kill me? Someone who attacked an FBI agent and made her go seek out an exorcist, for whatever reason? I think we have bigger things to concern ourselves with than some centuries-old war. Don’t you?”

Silence hung heavy in the air for a second. Neither Tera nor Greyson bothered to blush or look sheepish, but she knew them both well enough to know that had they been a little less self-contained, they would have.

Then Tera spoke, her expertly colored lips curving into a smile. “FBI agent? What’s the FBI doing here, Greyson?”

Greyson smiled back. Megan could practically see the halo over his head. “How in the world would I know?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Megan said. She realized she was still standing, as if she was about to break into song, and plunked herself back down on the couch. “What does matter is that she’s here, and I think the thing—the witch, if it is a witch, which I guess it is—attacked her, and then she ran to the hotel to talk to the exorcism guy. I have no idea why, or why he would be involved in all of this, but I’d like to find out.”

Tera finished her muffin. “And where is this FBI agent now? Do you think she knows what attacked her?”

Megan shook her head. “She’s probably in her room, and no, I don’t think so. We went to see the reverend last night—”

“Reverend?”

“Reverend Walther, the exorcist. We went to see him last night, and I read him and saw his conversation with her. She wanted to join his crusade or whatever, but she didn’t mention demons or witches or anything specifically.”

Tera frowned and popped a piece of melon into her mouth. “Walther. That name sounds familiar. And don’t you think it’s possible that she wanted to join him because she knew what had come after her?”

“Yes, it’s possible, but I don’t think that’s the case. She seemed . . . kind of dazed. And she said she could help him. I don’t really see why she would offer to help him, if she knew she’d been attacked by something, well, not quite human. Or whatever.”

“A superior being,” Tera said.

“Hey! I’m human, remember.”

“Oh, I remember. Okay. I think the best thing to do is head down to her room. I’ll do a little spell so she’ll forget the attack, and we can wipe our hands of her at least.”

Greyson leaned forward. Had innocence been a tangible thing, like chocolate, he would have been brown from head to toe. “Perhaps it would be better to remove her memories of all of us and send her away. We wouldn’t want her getting in the way and being hurt again, would we?”

Tera’s eyes narrowed. For a long moment they all sat, silent, while she chewed her melon and thought whatever it was she was thinking. Megan suspected it had something to do with wishing desperately that Greyson’s idea wasn’t a good one and trying to think of a way to get out of doing what he wanted.

“I guess you’re right,” she said finally. “But I think you’re going to owe me a favor.”

“Done.”

“Okay, then.” Megan stood back up, this time for a reason. She wanted to get down to Agent Reid’s room as quickly as possible, and not just because it was nearing nine o’clock. She could never be sure how things were going to go when she had Greyson and Tera both in the same room; sometimes they got along just fine, even managed to joke and at least put on a good enough show of enjoying each other’s company. Other times they were like a couple of sharks fighting over the same tasty innocent victim. This was clearly one of the latter occasions.

Could she blame them? Perhaps they weren’t as edgy as she was—they weren’t the ones who’d almost been killed—but again, if either of them had been, she wouldn’t exactly have been in a chipper mood. The thought of something happening to either of them, of the hole that would leave in her life . . . She shuddered as she slipped on her shoes.

Eleven months ago she hadn’t known either of them existed and hadn’t really had anyone in the world, except her patients, who would even have noticed if she’d disappeared. Perhaps Althea—one of her old partners in the group practice—would have worried. Althea had kept in touch, sort of, but Megan hadn’t heard from her in a couple of months. Nobody else. She’d been alone, completely and totally, not even speaking to her family.

Now she had friends. A man she loved, who she knew loved her. A real family, even if they were a bunch of little demons who fed on human misery.

All that in less than a year. And the thought of some thing happening, of losing one of the people who’d enriched her life so much, sent a stab of fear straight to her heart. She shivered again, harder.

“Meg? You okay?” Greyson must have seen her shudder. When she turned around, he was watching her, his brows drawn together.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She gave him a bright smile. What the hell was her problem? Well, stupid question—someone was trying to kill her, after all—but where was this silliness about losing someone coming from? Tera had taken time off work—probably called in sick, but Megan had no idea what Vergadering’s vacation policies might be like—and come to stay at the Bellreive just to help her. And yes, Greyson was paying for her room and everything else, but she would have come anyway.