Raphael opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, then shook his head as he thought better of it. Without a word to me, he turned his back and strode out of the room. Seconds later, the front door slammed, and he was gone.

CHAPTER 19

After Raphael left, I fell back into bed and slept like the dead. When I woke up, the bruises had well and truly set in, and my entire body ached. I downed a handful of ibuprofen, then took the world’s longest hot shower. I felt marginally better afterward.

While I was in the process of figuring out what to do with myself all day, I checked my phone messages from the office and discovered I wouldn’t have to go looking for things to do after all. I was absurdly grateful to be able to schedule a routine exorcism for the middle of this afternoon. Maybe for just a little while, I could pretend my life was normal. At least, as normal as an exorcist’s life ever is.

I caused a bit of a stir, showing up at the courthouse with my ostentatious bruises. I told anyone who asked that I got mugged. It was a whole lot simpler that way.

The guy I’d been hired to exorcize, one Jordan Maguire, had been a legal demon host for five years. He’d apparently run into trouble when he’d split with his girlfriend, with whom he had a two-year-old daughter. They’d been arguing—loudly, according to the neighbors. When the demon stormed out of her apartment, the girlfriend had called the police and accused him of assault. She even had the bruises to show for it.

If he’d been human, there would have been a protracted inquiry into what had happened. However, demons have few rights, and the legal system tolerates no hint of impropriety. I felt kind of sorry for the demon, who swore he hadn’t hurt his girlfriend, that she’d been two-timing him with another guy and that it was the other guy who had hit her. But he’d already been convicted and sentenced, and I knew I was only sending him back to the Demon Realm, not killing him, so my guilt only went so far.

Maguire’s demon was a bitch to cast out, but I managed it.

The guilt evaporated completely when the demon was gone. About eighty percent of hosts whose demons are exorcized end up as vegetables afterward, but every once in a while, it was even worse. This was one of those times. As soon as the demon was gone, the host’s brain completely shut down, no longer capable of directing such vital bodily functions as breathing. He wasn’t just brain damaged; he was brain-dead.

He was taken from the courthouse by ambulance, and would be admitted to the hospital until his family could be notified. Then they’d take him off life support, and he’d be dead. I shuddered to think what the demon must have done to him to make him shut down so completely. And I prayed Raphael wasn’t treating my brother the same way.

Depressed as hell, I went to my office and filled out the paperwork. I hadn’t heard from Adam, and, being the impatient sort, I tried calling him. I went straight to voice mail and didn’t bother leaving a message.

I was in pain from the beating, depressed by the exorcism, worried about Dominic, and angry about being tossed off Tommy Brewster’s case. It wasn’t a good combination of emotions, and it left me with a burning desire to do something.

What I decided to do might have been reckless, especially given the very unequivocal instructions I’d been given to keep my nose out of Brewster’s business, but I decided it was time to pay another visit to The Seven Deadlies. Shae and Tommy seemed to have become buddies—or at least accomplices. Perhaps I could “gently” persuade Shae to tell me what Tommy was up to.

The thought of giving Shae a hard time brought a smile to my face. The best part about it was that because she was an illegal demon herself, she wouldn’t be able to report me to the police if I got a little. . aggressive in my questioning. Adam had to play seminice with her, or his well of information might dry up. I was under no such restrictions.

I showed up at the club at nine, just when its doors were opening for the night. The same bouncer I’d haggled with last time was on duty. There was no question that he recognized me—I’m not one who blends into a crowd—but he also remembered that Shae had let me in last time. When I asked him to let Shae know I wanted to talk to her, he made a sotto voce call and then told me she’d be right down. I found a corner where I’d be out of the way and waited.

I wasn’t shocked when Shae’s definition of “right down” and mine differed significantly. I refrained from doing the pointed-stare-at-my-watch thing when she finally swept out of the Employees Only doorway.

Apparently, she favored the dramatic when it came to her wardrobe. Today, she wore a neon-orange silk tunic with frog closures and a mandarin collar over skinny black pants. I don’t know how, but somehow she’d found a pair of stiletto heels that exactly matched the color of the tunic. She should have looked ridiculous, but, of course, she didn’t.

Shae looked me over unabashedly, her gaze lingering on the bruises. I clenched my teeth, waiting for her to make a smart-ass comment about them, but she just smiled at me—the predatory shark smile I’d come to expect from her.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “This makes twice in one week. Perhaps we should make you a member.”

I suppressed a shudder at the thought. “Your doorman said you had a three-month wait list.”

“I’d be willing to make an exception for you.”

I’m sure we both knew that Hell would freeze over before I joined, but I played along with her anyway. Trying to reel in my prey. Or just trying to give myself time to change my mind and walk away.

I raised my eyebrows. “Why would you do that?” I had to resist the urge to shrink back when Shae reached out and hooked an elbow around my arm. “Because you provide boundless entertainment,” she said, trying to steer me toward the door into the heart of the club.

I dug in my heels. I didn’t want to go in there again, especially not on Shae’s arm. “Let’s cut the crap,” I said. “I have no interest is setting foot in your club again.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You already have.” “You know what I mean. Is there somewhere quiet we can talk?”

She let go of my arm—thank God—and gazed at me curiously. I put on my blandest expression and hoped that I was getting better at hiding what I was feeling. Shae would have creeped me out even if I didn’t know she was an illegal demon. There was just something about her. Not evil, per se, but perhaps. . chaotic.

Whatever she read or didn’t read in my face, Shae seemed satisfied. She smiled at me once more and gestured to the Employees Only door.

“Come along,” she said, heading that way. “We can talk in my office.”

I wasn’t surprised the door was locked, but I was a bit surprised to see it was key-carded. The card reader was hidden in a particularly deep shadow, and I hadn’t noticed it before. I wondered if following Shae through that door was a monumentally stupid thing to do. My Taser was in my purse, but I’d learned through hard experience that it didn’t do me a whole lot of good in there.

I grabbed the door, which was heavy and solid, but didn’t immediately follow. Shae turned back and raised an eyebrow.

“Is there a problem?” she asked, and her smile told me she knew exactly what the problem was.

“I’m expecting a call from Adam,” I told her, which was actually true. “I was just wondering if you get cell phone reception in here. It looks kind of. . formidable.”

Yeah, okay, the “expected phone call” gambit was a cliché straight out of about three thousand suspense movies. Usually used to no avail, come to think of it. But it was the first thing that popped into my mind, and I didn’t have enough time to come up with something better.