Stacia Kane - Demon Inside

She shrugged. In her head she heard her own voice, reassuring a client, floating into people’s homes and cars from the radio. Never be afraid to talk about your feelings. Speaking up is bravery. If they don’t know how you feel, they can’t respond to your emotions.

Bullshit. “So I guess whoever this Maldon guy is, he isn’t very happy I’m here. He sent some of his Yezer to the bar, I was at this bar in town, and they—”

“Why didn’t you call me, Meg?”

“You were in New York.”

“Didn’t you think I’d come back?” He paused. “Or did you not want me to?”

She shrugged. “You were mad at me.”

“And you were mad at me.” He let go of her chin and sat down on the curb. Glass clinked loudly in the crisp air as he pulled two beers out of the pack and opened them, their caps ringing on the sidewalk. “Are you still mad?”

She tucked her coat beneath her to try and guard her behind from the freezing pavement. “No. You?”

“No.” He drank his beer and made a face.

“It was all they had,” she said, smiling for what felt like the first time in days.

“No wonder you went to a bar. What happened?”

She told him, as quickly as she could, not wanting to think for too long about the sullen faces and bulky bodies in her way. When she got to the part about the Yezer appearing, he interrupted.

“Where was Roc?”

“He’s at my par—my mom’s house.”

“You should keep him with you. Especially when you’re not in the city.”

“I just…didn’t want to deal with him tonight.”

Greyson nodded. “Maldon isn’t happy you’re here. He wants to meet with you.”

“Oh, for—”

“Yeah, I know. I tried to talk him out of it but…honestly, bryaela, he’s probably pissed off because of me. He doesn’t care for me too much.”

“Why not? Do I want to know?”

“I seduced his wife.”

She choked on her beer. “Really?”

He nodded. “Five years or so ago. They were in town for some kind of meeting. I was bored.”

“Well, at least you found something to amuse you.”

Why did she love his smile so much? In spite of everything she’d been thinking only ten minutes ago—and it was all true and she knew it—he could smile at her like that and she didn’t care anymore, despite the tiny, almost unacknowledged stab of jealousy. “Such as it was. Yes, I did.”

“I guess when I go meet this guy you won’t be with me.”

“Oh, no. I definitely will be.”

“But if he hates you—”

“He hates me, yes. But he also knows I’m more powerful than he is. Which, by extension, makes you more powerful than he is. I don’t want him to forget it.”

“Why do I have to go at all?”

“Because it’s courteous and you have enough to deal with here without his Yezer—or who knows what else—following you around.”

She sighed. “When do we have to do this?”

“When is the funeral?”

“Eleven, tomorrow.”

He checked his watch. “We might still be able to catch him tonight. If not, we’ll try for morning.”

“Do we have to? Tonight, I mean?”

“Best to get it over with.” He opened another beer. “Besides, he’ll probably have decent scotch.”

An hour later they arrived at Maldon’s house, a bland split-level in a new development. Megan, accustomed to the homes of important demons being as opulent as imperial palaces, felt like she’d arrived at the gates of Hell and found Heck instead.

Not that the grand Iureanliers actually resembled Hell, or that Hell even existed—apparently it didn’t, but she hadn’t yet learned the true story. The analogy suited her anyway and won another smile from Greyson when she whispered it to him.

“Maldon does have some power, though, and his boss is Winston Lawden of House Caedes Fuiltean,” he murmured as they approached the guards out front. “So try not to piss him off, won’t you?”

The pig-faced guards communicated in low grunts, but seemed to understand Greyson well enough when he spoke the demon tongue. Megan assumed they, like the other non-human-looking demons, were invisible to most people. Lucky her, she was able to see most of them. It certainly made walks in the park more interesting.

They stood outside for so long Megan was starting to think they’d be refused entry. Her legs—she’d changed into the black dress and jacket she planned to wear the next day—were numb. She was cold, she was tired, and with every minute that passed she grew more and more irritated.

Finally one of the grunting beasts nodded and bowed, sweeping the front door open behind him. Greyson ushered her through the door, into another very ordinary earth-tone foyer. She half-expected the Brady kids to come down the stairs any minute.

“Grey,” a voice boomed. “And you must be Dr. Chase.”

Megan didn’t notice, or pay attention to, Greyson’s power as a rule. It was just there, something humming in the background, much like her own. But she remembered meeting his old Gretneg, Templeton Black, and the easy strength emanating from his stocky frame. Lord Maldon had the same kind of energy, but Megan knew without even having to think about it that Greyson had been right. Maldon wasn’t as strong as Templeton had been, or as strong as Greyson was now. The knowledge made her simultaneously more sympathetic—her presence here really was a threat—and more pissed off. Who did he think he was, sending his minions out to threaten her?

Especially not when he looked like a mangy dog, with his messy dirty blond hair and grizzled face. His entire body, in fact, seemed slight and a little too loose limbed for reality, but she had the distinct impression he could move quickly if he wanted to. Like a ferret.

Greyson towered over him. “Orion,” he said, nodding. Neither man offered his hand to the other.

Maldon glanced at him, then looked back at Megan. His eyes, a vibrant, shocking blue, raked her body from head to toe. “So you’re Greyson’s little human,” he said, his voice—loud and calm—at distinct odds with his meager frame.

“She’s Gretneg of House Io Adflicta,” Greyson corrected. “She’s not my little anything.”

“That’s not the way I hear it.” He reached out to touch her hair, but Megan, moving with a speed she didn’t know she possessed, grabbed his hand before he could. His skin was cool and smooth, hard like an apple.

“Is touching part of this?” she asked innocently. “Because I don’t generally allow men I don’t know to fondle my hair.”

Greyson’s lips twitched, but he didn’t speak.

Maldon’s eyes darkened. “And I don’t generally allow others to do business in my territory without greeting me.”

“I’m not doing any business. I’m just here for a funeral.”

“Yes, I know about your father. Doubly important, then, that you give me my due.”

“Excuse me?”

“I allowed him to stay here, even after you left. After you defeated the Accuser the first time and handed over your Yezer—some of whom were my Yezer—to him, stealing from me. I allowed your father to run his business, to keep his home, everything he had was due to me.”

“Give it a rest, Orion,” Greyson said. His anger brushed against her skin, then withdrew, but the edge in his voice still seemed to echo in her chest. “Dr. Chase owes you nothing. She’s come here to apologize for not informing you she was coming. She’s done so. That’s all.”

“You know that isn’t true, Greyson.” Maldon’s eyes didn’t leave hers for a long moment, then he blinked and turned away, becoming once again just a wiry little man, vaguely threatening, like a small-time hood but nothing to worry about.