Stacia Kane: Demon Possessed

He sank down on the end of the bed, a respectable distance from her but still, she could see, close enough that he could reach out to her if need be. God, he was so great. She’d never be able to forgive herself fully for hurting him. “So you talked to him.”

“Yeah.”

“And? I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but did he—I mean, have you guys worked things out?”

She sighed and explained everything. Well, almost everything. She left out the sex, but she was pretty sure he knew anyway.

He shook his head. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I know what I want to do, but I also know I don’t want to start off a marriage—Jesus, I can’t believe I’m actually talking about a marriage—with him thinking I’ll just do anything he—”

The phone rang, and her heart leaped into her throat. It was as if he knew she was talking about him. Which would be more impressive if there weren’t such a huge issue between them at the moment, but the point was the same.

Maybe he was calling to talk. Maybe he finally understood.

Except it wasn’t him. It was Brian.

For a second the room actually seemed to tilt. Brian’s voice belonged to another world, the one outside this fucking hotel. It seemed bizarre that he would intrude on the claustrophobic, miserable little stressball that what was supposed to be a relaxing week had become.

“Brian? What’s up?”

“They won’t let me upstairs until I have your room number, and they won’t give me your room number. What is it?”

“What? You’re here? Why?”

“Um, an FBI agent slaughtered a woman here early this morning, Megan. It’s kind of a big story.”

“Oh. Right.” She gave him the room number and hung up, unsure why his presence bothered her so much but bothered just the same. He didn’t belong here. This wasn’t really the part of her life she shared with him. He knew about it, and he tolerated it, but they talked about her patients and work, about his work, about TV and movies and books.

If she stopped having that work, would she still have Brian?

Maybe that wasn’t fair. After a few initial conversations he’d backed off; he didn’t want anything to do with the demon part of her life, but he certainly didn’t openly disapprove. He got along with Greyson in a grudging way despite distrusting him based on his demon-ness. But he clearly saw her as human. Wanted her to stay that way and saw it as if she were somehow cheapening herself by being so involved with demons. He never said it outright, but she knew he felt that way. Was a little disappointed in her for it.

It didn’t matter, really. She certainly wasn’t going to make an important life decision based on whether or not a friend of hers might disapprove. But she would have liked him to approve and would have liked to think it wouldn’t matter to him. But it wasn’t important, especially not then. She didn’t have time to worry about Brian at the moment.

And she didn’t have time to hang around with him either. Time creeped on, as time was wont to do; it was close to five, and she’d hoped to try to eat something and get a little rest before meeting with the others at eight. Not to mention letting Tera and Nick know what the plan was and trying to figure out who might be the one who’d hired the angel in the first place—damn it, she should have asked Greyson who he thought it was—and thinking of him opened a whole new can of worms, one she’d have to face soon.

Her mood didn’t improve when Brian arrived. He wasn’t alone. He’d brought Julie with him. Shit.

Oh, she liked Julie just fine. But that whole detective-with-FBI-connections thing set her pretty low on Megan’s must-see list just then.

Best not to let that show, though. So she smiled and gave her a hug, admired the new way Julie wore her shiny shoulder-length chestnut hair. Julie had always looked to Megan as though rather than working as a detective, she should be milking cows somewhere; she had that healthy pink-cheeked openness that belonged in a shampoo ad.

Those wide brown eyes weren’t smiling this time, though, despite the friendly greeting. Julie sat in the desk chair, leaving Brian to lean against the wall. “Megan, the murdered woman, Justine Riverside. You knew her, didn’t you? She was part of this meeting thing your boyfriend came here for.”

Shit. Shit. What did she know? Had Brian told her anything?

Okay. Honesty was going to have to be the best policy here, because she had no idea what Julie knew and didn’t know. “I knew Justine, yes.”

“Because Greyson has some business involvement with her.”

There was a difference between being honest and being stupid, however. “Julie, am I being officially questioned here or something? What’s going on?”

“No, I’m not questioning you.” Julie sighed. “I’m just trying to figure out why Elizabeth would do such a thing. And I know she talked to you before you came here. So I wonder if she mentioned Justine or if they knew each other.”

“Where is Greyson anyway?” Brian looked around. “I would have figured he’d spring for a better room than this.”

For fuck’s sake, could she have one conversation today that didn’t involve someone asking her about Greyson?

“He’s not here. Elizabeth didn’t mention Justine to me, Julie. And I didn’t know Justine very well. So I really can’t help you much, I don’t think.”

Julie frowned. Megan couldn’t quite tell if it was a disappointed frown or an I-don’t-believe-you frown, and she had no real way to find out. Trying to read members of law enforcement wasn’t a good idea. She’d discovered over the years that they tended to have a little ability of their own, at least the good ones did, and got antsy if she read them. And even if she’d been tempted to try, Brian’s presence made it unthinkable. He’d know. He’d be pissed.

“When will Greyson be back? I’d like to speak to him.”

“I don’t know. Do you need to speak to all of us? It seems like a pretty open-and-shut thing, from what I’ve heard. I mean, you know who killed Justine, right?”

Julie cocked her head, her gaze measuring Megan like Spud with a new lipstick he was thinking of trying on her. “Can I be honest with you?”

Oh, no. Questions like that never led anywhere good. But what could she say? No? “Of course.”

“Elizabeth has been . . . she’s been behaving very oddly. I spoke to her this morning, and she . . . It’s normal for people who commit murders—I mean good, normal people who suddenly snapped or whatever—to be confused. Or even to say they don’t remember it very well. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

Megan nodded. She did, very well. One of the benefits of her training and career.

“But Elizabeth is . . . If I hadn’t worked with her before, didn’t know her, I’d think she was just trying to set up an insanity defense. She keeps rambling on about beautiful white lights and witches and demons.”

Megan and Nick didn’t move, but Brian twitched. Luckily Julie didn’t notice.

“This isn’t part of an official investigation, which is why I’m telling you this,” Julie went on. “Yes, as far as the case is concerned, it’s done with. Elizabeth confessed. But she’s making less and less sense. She’s drooling. She’s falling asleep. She’s not on any drugs or anything, but she’s totally out of it. And I just wondered . . . she mentioned you.”

“Me?” Did that sound squeaky? She really hoped that hadn’t sounded squeaky.

“She said you came to her room. At least that’s what I think she said. And then she said something about another woman and then something about an army or something. She said guns. That guns were there, and they were pushing her to do it, and the light wanted her to do it. And she didn’t have control—” Her cell phone rang. “Sorry, hold on a second.”