Jenna Black - The Devil You Know

He jerked on my finger, hard, and I heard the bone snap at the same moment pain tore a scream from my throat. Sweat popped out over my whole body, and for a moment my vision swam. When it cleared, I still felt like I might barf. Who knew one tiny finger could cause so much pain? Lugh helped things along with another ice pick in the eye, but though I appreciated his desire to help me, I knew that keeping him hidden was far more important. No matter how pissed I was at him at the moment.

“Are you beginning to get the message?” Der Jäger asked.

“All right, all right. You win,” I gasped. Tears burned at my eyes, and for once I didn’t try to suppress them. I needed him to believe I was well and truly beaten, and if squirting out a few tears would help with the illusion, then I was willing to sacrifice a bit of my dignity.

“That was a foregone conclusion,” he said. “Now tell me the name of the human you transferred Lugh into.”

“Peter Bishop,” I said, improvising. “But Lugh had to know someone would come looking for him, so I doubt he stayed in a host I could identify.”

“Where might I find this Mr. Bishop? He may no longer be Lugh’s host, but perhaps I can persuade him to tell me who is.”

I was about to launch into a story about the fictional Mr. Bishop’s probable location when the doorbell rang. Unfortunately, Der Jäger reacted faster than I did, clapping a hand tightly over my mouth before I could scream for help. I made as much noise as I could, but I had no illusions anyone standing outside the house could hear me.

The doorbell sounded again, followed by the pounding of the knocker. Followed by a shout announcing the persistent visitor as police. I didn’t know what the police could be doing here—I was sure my parents didn’t have an alarm system that I tripped, and even if someone had heard me scream and called the police, there wouldn’t have been enough time for them to arrive.

Der Jäger continued to pin me and cover my mouth, his whole body tense. I suspect he was hoping the police would go away and let him go about his business, but the officer at the door knocked once again, and I heard a siren approaching. I tensed, even more sure Der Jäger was about to try to move into my body. And yet, he didn’t.

One of the questions that Raphael had refused to answer was how he had known that Lugh wouldn’t be able to control me the way demons can usually control their hosts. I was guessing that whatever that secret was, Der Jäger knew it, too.

“We will continue this discussion at some other time,” Der Jäger said. Then he grabbed me by the hair—a neat trick when my hair was so short—and slammed my head into the floor.

I didn’t lose consciousness, but my head swam. I felt the weight of his body leave my back. I made a feeble effort to grab at his ankle—with my left hand, where all the fingers were whole—as he moved past me, but it wasn’t like I could have stopped him even if I’d managed to get a grip.

Dizzy and nauseated, I raised my head and watched as he made his way casually toward the back of the house, where no doubt he intended to slip out the back door. I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, trying to find the strength and will to shout some kind of warning at the police, but I was too shaky, so I collapsed.

From the back of the house, I heard a shout, then a gunshot. I lay on my back on the floor and held my breath, knowing just how much effect a gun would have on Der Jäger. I flinched when I heard a man’s high-pitched scream. Then I tried to get up again, and this time the blackness took me.

I came to seconds later—too fast for Lugh to fix anything—when the police broke down the front door. I would really have liked to get the hell out of there—I didn’t think the police were a complication I much needed—but though I managed to push myself up onto my knees, I knew my legs weren’t ready to hold me yet.

Nausea roiled in my stomach, and my broken pinkie throbbed like a sonofabitch. When I looked at it, I saw it was bent at an unnatural angle, and for a moment I seriously thought I would puke. Then I thought about what would happen if they took me to the hospital. Hours of my life ticking away while I waited my turn. X-rays. Poking and prodding. Realigning the bone, then splinting the finger. That didn’t sound like a whole lot of fun, so I carefully slid that hand into my jacket pocket. Even that small movement made me whimper.

A gun-totin’ policeman appeared in the doorway to the study. The moment he saw me, he aimed solidly at my chest and started shouting instructions at me—you know, the whole “put your hands on your head” routine. He looked seriously freaked out, like he might shoot me if I took a deep breath. I realized that with my hand in my jacket like that, I probably looked like I was going for a weapon.

I gave him woozy eyes for a moment, wondering if there was any way I could get out of showing him my hand. I was just determining the answer was no when Adam appeared in the doorway behind the cop.

“Stand down,” he ordered. “I know her. This is her parents’ house.”

“Sir?” the officer asked uncertainly.

“Put your weapon away,” Adam said more slowly.

The officer didn’t look like he was too happy with the idea, but Adam outranked him, so he did as he was told. He kept a wary eye on me as he holstered his weapon and backed out of the doorway. I didn’t look up, but I swear I could physically feel Adam glaring at me.

“You and I are going to have a long talk,” he told me.

“Peachy,” I said. I was so not looking forward to this conversation.

He came farther into the room, offering me a hand up. I ignored it and struggled to my feet. The motion jarred my finger, and the flash of pain almost took me back to the floor.

Adam frowned at me. “What’s with the hand?”

I supposed it looked pretty suspicious, me keeping my hand buried in my jacket like that. I lowered my voice so that only Adam could hear me. “Broken finger, and I don’t want anyone splinting it, if you know what I mean.”

As long as no one knew it was broken, Lugh could fix it as soon as I got somewhere private and managed to lose consciousness. I’d have to put a splint or bandage on it so as not to let Der Jäger know I was possessed if—or, more likely, when—we met again, but I could do that after the break healed. More sirens approached. Adam regarded me with interest and speculation in his eyes. Frighteningly, I knew him well enough to guess what he was thinking.

“You turn me in to the EMTs, and I will feed you your balls.”

He grinned. “It might almost be worth it.” The grin faded. “But I don’t think our little chat can wait until after the emergency room is done with you.” He moved closer still, and I had to fight an urge to back away.

“Let’s see how bad it is,” he said.

I considered my options and realized there were none. Reluctantly, carefully, I extracted my hand from my pocket. Every movement brought a new wave of pain. I didn’t want to look at the damage, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself, even though seeing my finger bending that way made me want to pass out.

Apparently, I didn’t know Adam as well as I thought—either that, or I was too addled by the blow to the head to guess what was coming.

He moved with lightning quickness, grabbing me, turning me around, and hauling me up against his chest. One hand clapped over my mouth, his fingers biting into the bruises Der Jäger and my father had left on me.

“Hold still,” he hissed in my ear. “This’ll be over in a second.” Then, still covering my mouth, he reached for my injured hand. I tried to jerk away, but he was too much bigger and stronger than me. He pulled my arm up against my body, then used his other elbow to pin me there. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, knowing I would not win this battle.