Demon Inside

“So Orion found her,” Megan said, understanding. “And he knew my demon was…adaptable, because what I felt at his house, that I could use his power if I wanted to, he felt too? He knew it?”

“It’s the best explanation I can think of.”

“Orion always wanted more,” Winston said with a heavy sigh. Megan realized with a start that she’d forgotten all about Orion’s body, still and silent on the floor while they talked over him as though he were a needy pet they were ignoring. “That’s why he never went further. He was smart enough. But when I made him a lakri…that’s when I realized his ambition wasn’t tempered with anything. He wasn’t patient. He wasn’t willing to put in his time. So he never got closer. He just wasn’t…good enough to be closer to me.”

It was one of the saddest epitaphs Megan had ever heard.

“Feeling better?”

She tied the belt of his bathrobe around her waist and started rolling up the sleeves. “Actually, yes. Does that even make sense?”

The shower and snack helped clear her head, but there was still so much to discuss, so many facts and worries and feelings to slog through. The kind of things she would have advised her patients it was unhealthy to hide from.

But she didn’t have any patients anymore. Was she even really a counselor anymore? Her show probably didn’t count.

Which meant that as an almost-official-not-counselor, she could engage in whatever unhealthy avoidance she wanted to.

Greyson glanced up from pouring their drinks. By unspoken agreement they’d decided champagne was inappropriate under the circumstances, so he fixed them both Jack and Cokes. “Everybody feels better after eating and taking a shower. It’s a scientific fact.”

“See? All those years of college wasted, when I could have just charged people for sandwiches and some hot water. I knew it.”

He smiled. “Tera said they’d probably want—”

“Can we not talk about it? Right now, I mean. I think I’ve had enough for one day.”

“Of course. We can talk about anything you want. It’ll wait until morning.”

She sipped her drink, looked around the room. “I can’t think of anything to say.”

“We don’t have to talk at all,” he suggested, stroking her back with his left hand and leaning down to kiss her neck. “We could just go to sleep, of course, but…I think this might be more fun.”

Part of Megan was horrified by the thought. When she closed her eyes, even after the shower and snack, she kept seeing the pool of red spreading from Orion’s head and ruining the intricate pattern of the carpet. Or the dungeon, again, the flames almost licking the ceiling, almost finding her hiding place…

Too bad other parts of her were intensely interested. What better way to drive the memories of chilling horror away? To replace those images with considerably more pleasant ones?

“Are you going to sleep with Justine?”

He stopped moving but stayed where he was, his face buried in the curve between her shoulder and her neck, and his arm around her waist. “No, bryaela, I’m not going to sleep with Justine.”

“But if she—”

“She’ll accept a substitute. She always did with Temp.” His lips resumed their lazy journey.

“But you were the substitute, weren’t you?”

“It was part of my job.” Strong fingers tilted her chin up, so their eyes met. His were deep, unfathomable; but she realized as she looked into them how shaken he’d been earlier by the presence of Ktana Leyak, saw his need to put it behind him was no less intense than hers. “It’s not anymore.”

Megan forced her relief not to show. “So what is part of your job now?”

“Ah, that’s a secret. If I told you, I’d have to hypnotize you to make you forget.”

“I think the line is ‘I’d have to kill you.’”

“No. If I killed you I wouldn’t be able to do this anymore.” He caught her earlobe between his teeth and sucked it softly. She shivered. “And then you wouldn’t do that anymore and I do so enjoy it when you do that…”

She swallowed. Uncomfortable images and thoughts still played in her mind, but it was hard to concentrate on them while his silver-smooth voice whispered some of John Do

What the hell. A little forgetfulness was just what the counselor ordered.

Chapter 23

“He bashed his own head in? I’m supposed to believe that?”

“No. Your witches did that.” Greyson shrugged. “We tried to heal him so you could take him in, but…he was beyond saving.”

“Our weapons did not do this, Grey. Look at that!” Tera gestured toward her feet, where Orion Maldon’s body lay, mostly covered by a white sheet, on a rickety gurney. The damage was obvious. His entire face had sunk when his skull fractured, like a deflating balloon.

“I’ve seen it, thank you.”

“We sent smoke after him, that was all.”

“Now hold on, that was not all. Have you seen my fence? The gate is practically destroyed.”

Megan spoke up for the first time. It was hard to follow the conversation for some reason. Three cups of coffee had failed to perk her up, and she was about to start on a fourth. The week was finally catching up with her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept an untroubled night. “They were shooting something else at him, Tera. Something…they looked like black rocks, and they exploded.”

Tera’s brow furrowed as she glanced from Megan to Greyson and back. “Really?”

Megan nodded. “I was there, I saw it.” Please believe me. I’m already having to lie to you, and you’re my friend and I hate that.

“That’s…well. I don’t see that there are any particles of that in his hair. It looks to me like somebody hit him with something.”

“The blast knocked free one of the finials,” Greyson said. “It flew into the back of his head.”

“Shit. This is just what I need,” Tera said. “If you’d given him to us last night we could have saved him.”

“I couldn’t, Tera. You know that. I couldn’t ignore his request, especially when I had no idea why you guys were after him.”

“Are…are you going to get in trouble for this?” Megan bit her lip. If this would cost Tera her job…and it was almost Christmas too. Never mind that Tera didn’t celebrate. Nobody should lose their job four days before Christmas, it was a crime against humanity—and witches were close enough to human, right?

Tiredness always made her sentimental. Or grumpy. Today it looked like sentimental.

“No. He’s right. It doesn’t sound like protocol was followed, so the ones in trouble will be the soldiers, not me. This wasn’t my affair anyway, I just stepped in because of you. No harm done. Except, of course, that now we can’t find out why he killed those witches.”

“Killed witches?” Greyson leaned against his desk and crossed his ankles in front of him, clearly ready to enjoy himself.

Tera colored. “Yes. Um, those witches who died, the ones I mentioned at the funeral? It looks like he was the one who did it, so…sorry about that. About suspecting you, I mean.”

“No problem.”

“But you have to admit you were a pretty likely suspect. It wasn’t exactly stupid of me to think you were behind it.”

“Of course.” Not a hint of sarcasm colored his voice.

“Well,” Megan said, clapping her hands together, trying to get her blood to circulate. The sleeves of Greyson’s shirt flopped from her arms. Her own clothes were being cleaned. “Tera, do you want some coffee or something?”

“I guess I’ll have water. Is Winston Lawden coming? He was here last night, right?”

“He’ll be here any minute,” Greyson said. “He said he was on his way.”

And he was. Winston arrived just after they’d settled Tera in a chair with a glass of water.

“Miss Green. What a lovely surprise.”