The Devil's Playground (19 page)

Brian reached out and grasped my shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze. “You don’t have to go back to being isolated,” he told me earnestly. “You’re learning how to open up and let other people into your life.”

I shook my head, picking my words carefully. “I don’t think I can do it without him.” Brian opened his
mouth to protest, but I put my fingers to his lips to silence him. He had no idea how much influence Lugh had had on me, how much Lugh had helped me repair the damage I’d done to our relationship. “Think of Lugh as a pair of training wheels,” I said. “With the training wheels on, I can ride like a big girl. But I’m not ready to go without them yet.”

Brian took another step back from me and scowled. “You’re using him as another excuse to keep me from getting too close.”

It used to be that Brian never got angry. Well, not
never
, but
almost
never. It used to drive me crazy when I argued with him. My voice would rise to somewhere in the vicinity of a sonic boom, my emotions boiling over, and Brian would respond calmly and logically. He was like a black hole for my anger, sucking it in and letting none escape. Being with me had changed him, hardened him. I hated that.

“I’m not the one using Lugh as an excuse,” I said quietly. “Nothing’s changed for me since the last time we made love. You’re the one who’s looking at me differently.”

The scowl deepened. “You really think nothing has changed? I asked you to consider finding a new host for Lugh, and now you’re telling me you don’t want to. Am I supposed to just take that in stride?”

Jealousy flared in Brian’s eyes, and I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t even tell him he had no reason to be jealous of Lugh, because that would be a lie.

Brian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard,
and I had to look away from the pain on his face. I hated seeing Brian hurt, but my first instinct was always to lash out. I’d gotten better at controlling that instinct lately, but my control wasn’t perfect.

“I seem to remember a time when you got mad at me for assuming you’d be jealous,” I said, still not looking at him. “You said I didn’t give you enough credit. It’s beginning to look like I was right all along.”

Brian made a sound of frustration. “That was when Lugh was coming on to you. I can’t be mad at you for what Lugh does. But this … this is all you.”

My head flew up suddenly, and it wasn’t because I wanted to look at Brian again. In fact, what I really wanted to do was turn my back, just in case the tears that hovered behind my eyes decided to fall. But when I met Brian’s gaze, it wasn’t
me
looking out from my eyes, it was Lugh. And he was pissed.

“I’m sorry if this makes you sick later,” he said, speaking to me, not Brian, “but I’ve heard enough.”

“Huh?” Brian asked, frowning in puzzlement, because, of course, he didn’t realize yet what had happened.

Lugh uncrossed my arms and took a decidedly aggressive step in Brian’s direction.

What the fuck do you think you’re doing?
I screamed at him, but he ignored me.

“You selfish little bastard,” Lugh said through my mouth, glaring at Brian. “All this time you’ve hounded Morgan to open up to you, to trust you not to hurt her. Then the moment she says something you don’t like, you slam the emotional door in her face.”

Some of the color left Brian’s face. I guess he was finally figuring out it wasn’t me who was speaking anymore. “Lugh?” he asked tentatively.

Lugh didn’t bother to answer. “Have you given even a moment’s thought as to what you’re asking her to give up?” he asked, poking Brian in the breastbone hard enough to make Brian take a step back.

“With me in residence, she has all the advantages of being a demon host. She will never get sick—except for these unexplained illnesses that happen with control changes. She can heal any injury short of a mortal wound, and even some of them. If anyone ever attacks her, I can protect her. And I can help her cope with some of the horrors she’s faced. Someone else who’s been through everything she’s been through might suffer from posttraumatic stress for the rest of her life, but because of me, Morgan won’t. All this she gains, without having to give up control of her body and her life. And you think she should throw it all away just because I make you uncomfortable?”

Brian was rarely at a loss for words—something of a survival trait for lawyers—but he was struck speechless now. He stood there in the kitchen doorway, gaping at Lugh and absently rubbing the spot on his chest that Lugh had poked. I wondered if it would leave a bruise.

But Brian wasn’t speechless for long. I could see him pulling the shreds of his composure back together. His shoulders straightened and his chin rose, the lines in his jaw showing how tightly his teeth were clenched. He leaned ever so slightly forward, into Lugh’s personal
space, and if it were anyone but Brian, I would have suspected he was seriously considering throwing a punch.

“You think you’re the best thing that ever happened to her, huh?” Brian asked, and there was no missing the fury in his voice. “Because of you, she was almost burned at the stake. Because of you, I was kidnapped and tortured. Because of you, her father is dead. And none of this is going to stop until you’re out of our lives once and for all. So don’t give me all this self-righteous bullshit when we both know all you really want is to get into her pants.”

Internally, I winced. I’d seen Brian angry before, but not like this. Not almost-out-of-control angry.

He’s angry because he knows I’m right, and he doesn’t like it
, Lugh said, his mental voice sounding much calmer than he was making my own voice sound out loud.

“Don’t forget, I’m just as happy to get into
your
pants as hers,” Lugh said, twisting my lips into a nasty smile.

Brian’s face, already red with anger, turned almost crimson, and both fists clenched at his sides. Lugh folded his arms across his chest … that is, folded
my
arms across
my
chest. “Go ahead and hit me if it will make you feel better,” Lugh said. “I won’t let Morgan feel it.”

And, for reasons I didn’t even begin to understand, Brian’s shoulders suddenly sagged, and the anger drained from his face.

“Jesus Christ,” Brian said, scrubbing at his hair with both hands—trying to find an outlet for all that rage, I suppose.

“I’ve told Morgan this many times,” Lugh said, his
voice now much softer. “You and I are not in competition. She loves you, Brian. You have no idea how much power that gives you over her, or how terrified she is of that power. I’ve helped her manage that fear, you know I have. I’m not your competition, and I’m certainly not your enemy.”

Brian looked defeated. “I know that, I guess. I just …” He shrugged.

I felt one corner of my mouth lift in a wry smile. “You just want some evidence that if she had to choose between you and me, she’d choose you.”

Brian laughed, but it was a nervous sound. “It sounds so childish when you put it that way.”

It is!
I wanted to yell at him. Probably just as well Lugh was in control at the moment.

Lugh reached out with my hand and cupped Brian’s cheek tenderly. Brian jumped at the touch, clearly not sure what to do. It was, after all,
my
hand. I just didn’t happen to be the one controlling it.

“It’s you that Morgan loves,” Lugh said, his fingers—
my
fingers—tracing a line down the side of Brian’s face. “Don’t back her into a corner to make her prove it. Some things are meant to be taken on faith.”

Brian shied away from Lugh’s touch, but there didn’t seem to be any real rancor or distaste in the gesture. “You’ve made your point. Now will you put Morgan back in control?”

Lugh sighed. “I will if you promise to drop the argument and nurse us back to health.”

Brian almost smiled at that, but not quite.

I tried to brace myself as Lugh faded into the background and put me back in the driver’s seat, but the headache still slammed into the back of my eyes like a semi truck. I groaned and let myself sag into Brian’s waiting arms.

I
WAS NOT A HAPPY CAMPER. WHEN LUGH AND I
change control too often, I invariably get sick to my stomach and am gifted with a raging headache. The closer together the control changes are, the worse my symptoms. Twice in two days was very definitely too much, and I felt like an industrious blacksmith had taken up residence in my skull.

I felt too lousy to continue my deep discussion with Brian, or even to complain about Lugh taking over like that. Brian didn’t seem much inclined to continue the conversation, either. He sent me off to my bedroom to hide in the comforting semidarkness as I waited for the aftereffects to go away. If previous experience was any guide, I’d feel better in a few hours as long as Lugh didn’t take control again. If he did, I was in for at least three days of misery.

Brian brought me some aspirin and a glass of water. I took them even though I knew they wouldn’t help. My
head throbbed steadily, and I hoped that, miraculously, this time the aspirin would work.

True to his word, Brian spent the rest of the afternoon with me. We didn’t talk much—it was hard to be coherent when my head hurt so badly—but I did find his presence strangely comforting. I spent the entire time lying in my bed with my eyes closed, willing the pain to go away. Brian tried to distract me with a back rub that would have felt heavenly under other circumstances.

I guess I must have drifted off to sleep despite the pounding in my head, because time seemed to pass without all the hours of the day being accounted for. One moment, I was curled into a little ball of misery with my pillow over my head, as if that could somehow keep the pain from getting to me. The next, I was listening to a ringing phone and deciding to let my answering machine get it. I had no idea I’d fallen asleep until Brian came in and sat on the side of the bed.

“Adam and Raphael are on their way up,” he said, keeping his voice low in respect for my headache. “They said you were expecting them.”

I groaned and rolled over, lifting the pillow off my head and squinting at Brian as if there were a bright light shining in my eyes. “I’m not expecting them until six,” I said, then made to hide under the pillow again.

“Morgan, it’s ten after six.”

I let out a little squeak of alarm, sitting up so fast it made my head throb even worse. I glanced at the bedside clock, even though I knew Brian wouldn’t be playing games with me when I wasn’t feeling well. Sure enough, it was after six.

“Shit,” I said, with feeling.

Brian frowned at me. “Should I have told them to go away?”

I started to shake my head, then thought better of it. “No. Besides, they’d have come up anyway.” Adam’s badge worked like an all-access pass to my apartment when he wanted it to. It was probably illegal to use the badge under false pretenses, but Adam wasn’t about to sweat legalities.

“Can you go let them in while I get dressed?” I’d taken off my top and bra so Brian could get his hands on bare skin while he massaged me.

“Sure,” he said, but I caught the quick little glance he gave my bare breasts. It almost made me smile.

I took my time getting dressed. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of leaving Brian in Adam and Raphael’s company for very long, but whenever I tried to move too fast, the pain in my head spiked.

Eventually, I made my way out into the living room. The guys had been arguing about something, but they all shut up the moment I stepped into the room. Brian was sitting on the couch, looking pissed off again. Adam was sitting on the arm of the couch, looking neutral. And Raphael was sprawled on the love seat, looking smugly amused.

I remembered belatedly that I was planning to chew Raphael a new one, but it was hard to build up a head of steam when I felt so lousy. It also occurred to me that I might not be in the best shape to join this interrogation squad, but there was no way in hell I was letting Adam and Raphael do it without supervision. Never mind that
they would ignore my “supervision” whenever they found it convenient.

“You up to this?” Adam asked, right on cue. I didn’t want to know what Brian had told them about why I was sick.

I held my head a little higher, squaring my shoulders. “No, but let’s do it anyway.” Adam and Raphael stood up, but I wasn’t ready to get going yet. “Before we leave, I want to know what the plan is, both for this demon and for his host.”

Adam and Raphael shared a glance, then turned nearly identically bland faces toward me.

“Our choices are somewhat limited,” Adam said. I guess he’d appointed himself the spokesperson.

“Then let me make this abundantly clear to both of you,” I said, mustering every scrap of authority I could find. “We are
not
killing anyone tonight. And you,” I continued, pointing at Raphael, “are not going back later to kill anybody.”

Raphael raised a single eyebrow. “I’m not?” I glared at him, but he met my gaze steadily and without flinching. “And how, exactly, are you planning to stop me?”

He had me stumped there. If I could count on Lugh to back me up, I’d have had at least some hope of making Raphael toe the line. But if Lugh had condoned Bradley Cooper’s murder, there was no reason to assume he wouldn’t condone the murder of Jonathan Foreman, the illegal recruitment czar, too. I put my fingers to my temples and tried to massage away the damned headache. I had enough deaths on my conscience! I didn’t know if I could stand any more.

“If we can find a way around killing anyone,” Adam said, “we will.” I wasn’t sure if he could legitimately speak for Raphael, but I was pretty sure he was telling the truth. I was also pretty sure he’d already determined there was no way around it.

“Remember, Dougal’s the one with total disregard for human life,” Brian said, putting his arm around my shoulders in solidarity. “We’re supposed to be better than that.”

Raphael gave Brian a contemptuous glance. “What would you have us do? Reveal ourselves as Lugh’s supporters to a high-ranking demon under Dougal’s control and then release him so he can destroy us?”

“You’re going to exorcize the demon, aren’t you?”