Demon Inside

Megan looked around, desperate to find something that could help them, looking for Greyson and Spud. Spud she finally spotted, crouching over the body of the old woman on the floor. He stood up, caught her gaze, and looked away guiltily; fresh blood dripped off his knife.

Before she had time to even consider what that meant, Greyson pushed her aside. His eyes burned, his rage froze her to the bone, but his expression was impersonal, almost curious. Malleus and Maleficarum’s arms tightened around Ktana Leyak’s waist and neck; Tera gave one last choked gasp, and Greyson put his hands on Ktana’s gri

Megan felt the heat first, heard Ktana’s laugh of triumph turn into a shriek of agony.

Then she disappeared, while Tera slid bonelessly to the floor.

“Tera! Oh my God, Tera!” Megan’s knees hit the tile with a painful thud as she checked Tera’s pulse, finding it—thready, but there. She put her hand under Tera’s neck and lifted, trying to open her airway at least a little bit.

Why wasn’t anyone helping her? Tera was alive, but what if she had a heart attack or something? Could witches have heart attacks? She assumed so, but they didn’t catch human diseases, so—

“What are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?”

Megan tore her gaze away from her pale, unmoving friend to see Brian surrounded by Greyson and the boys. Spud’s bloody knife was at his throat. Greyson’s hands hesitated on either side of Brian’s face. “Are your shields up, Brian?”

Brian caught her eye. “Megan, tell them to get off me!”

“She could come back! Are your shields up, do you still feel her in the room?”

Brian’s eyes widened. “I don’t—” He glanced down at the knife, then back up. “No, I think she’s gone.”

Tera coughed. Megan glanced down at her, wanting to help, but she couldn’t seem to move. “What do you mean, come back?”

Greyson lowered his hands and the boys relaxed too, stepping away and leaving Brian to slump against the wall.

“She’s a parasite, she could have tried to invade you, or that old woman if she’d still been clinging to life,” Greyson said. “Leyaks usually don’t—they’re imitators, not possessors—but she gets more power this way, I guess. I don’t know. But she disappeared before, and she’s disappeared now—”

“Before?” Tera croaked from the floor. “Before when?”

They all stood there, grouped together in the wreckage of the diner, until Tera broke the stillness by throwing up on Megan’s shoes.

Maldon wasn’t putting in the yard tonight. Greyson had been right about that—it was a show put on for her physical discomfort. Unfortunately, just sitting in the same room with him made her more uncomfortable, especially now that she’d come begging, needing information from him.

Sitting in a hotel room watching public-access television with a very grumpy witch who sounded like Wolf-man Jack was definitely preferable to this, and that was saying a lot. Lucky Brian got to take care of her instead, while Megan and Greyson ate di

Megan took another tiny bite of her fish. It was excellent, perfectly cooked, but her stomach was too full of butterflies for anything else to fit.

“So, Megan,” Maldon said, setting down his fork. “What information are you looking for? Your father’s business affairs? Your brother’s rehab? Your mother’s social clubs?”

Megan forced her features to stay still. Another ploy, designed to make her think Maldon knew everything about her family, possibly everything about her.

All the same…Dave’s rehab? If she hadn’t been so loath to admit she needed anything from Maldon at all, she would have loved to have that discussion. Not that she bore Dave any ill will—or at least not much—and not that she wasn’t glad he’d gotten help if he needed it, but still…

“I’m interested in what you did for him,” Megan said, repeating the line she and Greyson had gone over in the car. “How you helped him. What he did for you in return.”

Maldon smiled. “I thought you might be. Now let’s see…You need two pieces of information from me. Two things you want. So do I get two things in exchange?”

She took a deep breath. “I’ll owe you a favor.”

“Two.”

“Not an equal exchange,” Greyson said. His hand on her thigh sent waves of reassuring warmth through her body, while the rest of her shivered. God, Maldon hated Greyson. The emotion was so close to anger she felt it, ghostly cool against her bare arms.

Dressing up had been the last thing she’d wanted to do, but demons loved formality, so here she was, in a black cocktail dress Malleus had picked up for her at the mall while Tera settled into bed and the rest of them had a few tense words going over what Tera did and did not need to know about Ktana Leyak.

“Two bits of information, two favors.”

Greyson dipped his head to the side. “Are the pieces of information totally unrelated?”

Maldon looked away.

“Good. One favor.” Greyson gave her thigh a squeeze. “Ask your questions, Meg.”

Whatever Maldon’s other faults, his bartender did excellent work. Megan fortified herself with a sip of vodka tonic and took a deep breath. “What did you do for my father?”

“I gave him acceptance. I pulled strings, greased a few palms—with his money, of course.” Maldon shrugged. “People who had things against him and your mother suddenly forgot. People were persuaded. Not difficult, but time consuming.”

“But why? Why would you do it for him?” Wheels spun in her head but didn’t manage to touch ground and move forward. There was another question to be asked, she knew it, but she couldn’t seem to formulate it in her head.

“He helped with my books, which are quite complex. He had a good head for figures, your father. I’m sorry he died. He’ll be difficult for me to replace.”

“He helped with your books as payment or he helped with them before?” She didn’t remember seeing Maldon around when she was young, but that didn’t matter. The acquaintance, if it was based on her father’s needing help to get past the town’s anger at her, would have begun when she was well past the age of noticing or caring what her parents did.

“After.”

“Was that the deal? That you helped him, and he did your books in exchange?”

“Yes.” But Maldon’s gaze was too steady and Megan recognized a lie. Her clients did that too—or had, when she’d had clients.

What was he hiding? It couldn’t be loyalty to her dead father that stilled his tongue.

The question clicked into place. “How did he know you? I mean, how did he know to come to you to begin with?”

“Everyone in town knows me.”

“No, no they don’t. I didn’t, when I lived here. I never heard anyone talk about you. When did you move here?”

Maldon sighed and shifted in his chair. “You were fourteen, I believe. Miss Chase, my time this evening is limited, and we still have to discuss your payment for the demons you stole. Can we hurry this up?”

Shit! She’d forgotten about that, and she couldn’t possibly pay him. “I—”

“She’ll give you ten grand for them,” Greyson cut in, so smoothly she wasn’t sure at first he’d even heard her start to speak. Was he crazy? Ten thousand dollars?

“She will or you will?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does if I’m deciding whether to treat her as head of her own house, or as your ornita.”

Megan didn’t need to know the literal meaning of the word to understand what had been said. Gasps sounded around the table; one or two rubendas pushed their chairs back in shock, and fury and embarrassment rose in her chest despite their obvious disapproval.

“Hit him,” Greyson muttered.

“What? I—”

“Show him your power. Now.”

No time to worry, to wonder about what might happen if she did. He was right. Megan closed her eyes and gathered her strength, seeing the door inside herself, finding her co