“Nice shot,” he said with a sardonic lift of his brow. “But you can put the gun down now.”

Claudia visibly swallowed hard and stayed in her shooter’s stance. “Put my daughter down first!”

“Believe me, Claudia,” he said as he followed her orders, “I wouldn’t have given you my gun if I had any intention of hurting your children.” He stood up slowly, hands away from his sides.

So, the whole screaming argument had been an act, on both their parts. I wasn’t surprised that Raphael could be so convincing, seeing as he seemed to spend half his life lying and deceiving people, but Claudia’s performance had been pretty impressive.

The little girl ran to her as soon as her feet hit the ground, throwing her arms around her mother’s leg and bawling against her thigh. Claudia lowered the gun with a sigh of relief, her free hand stroking her daughter’s hair.

Behind me, the other girl finally gave up hiding under her blanket, wriggling free and running to join her sister in Claudia’s embrace. Still moving slowly and carefully, Raphael approached the tearful trio.

“May I have my gun back?” he asked. “That way you can use both arms to hug them.”

Claudia gave him a look that said she trusted him about as much as I did. But hugging two little girls while holding a gun was a bit awkward, so after a moment of hesitation, she handed it over.

Thank you, Morgan, Lugh whispered in my head.

For what?

For not panicking. For letting me take control. For letting me stay in control. For trusting me.

Strangely moved by his words, I didn’t immediately answer. And by the time I did, I was back in control.

“You’re welcome,” I said, so softly no one but Lugh could hear me.

CHAPTER 28

That had been the longest Lugh had ever been in control while I was conscious and aware, and it felt kind of strange to move my own limbs. My chest ached where Big Cheese had kicked me. I’m pretty sure he’d broken the rib, though Lugh had at least partially healed it. Nausea roiled in my stomach, most likely from stress overload. My legs were none too steady as I crossed the room to Raphael. Actually, I felt kind of like I’d just gotten back to land after six months at sea, and I swayed on my feet when I came to a stop.

“What’s the story?” I asked Raphael out of the corner of my mouth. Claudia was still busy hugging and comforting the children, and she paid no attention to us.

“I told her I was a friend of yours,” Raphael answered. “You exorcized Tommy and had me transfer from my usual host to him for this rescue. All highly illegal, of course, but I doubt she’s going to complain when our actions saved the kids.”

“And what about Tommy?”

His voice lowered to a near whisper. “I told her I’d transfer back into my original host and send Tommy back to her, though I warned her his psyche was not in good shape.”

I still had plenty more questions—like what was Raphael really going to do—but the Tasered Crony was starting to regain control of his limbs. Raphael gave me a little push toward Claudia.

“Why don’t you all go upstairs,” he suggested. “Get the children out of here.” He indicated the bloody battlefield with a sweep of his arm. “They’re in for enough nightmares already.”

“Yes, of course,” Claudia agreed. She scooped up the three-year-old, and took the other girl’s hand to lead her up the stairs. But it turned out both girls wanted to be carried, and neither Claudia nor I had the heart to deny them.

So I ended up carrying a still-sniffling, clinging five-year-old girl up the stairs, leaving Raphael alone in the basement. My conscience wasn’t entirely happy about it. I knew Raphael was going to kill Crony. The demon deserved it, but it wasn’t the demon who would die, it was his host. That really sucked for his host, who might have been totally unwilling to participate in this plot. But we couldn’t let him live, couldn’t have him testifying to his version of what had happened down in that basement. Hell, I wasn’t sure what the legal ramifications of this night’s work were going to be. I didn’t think I’d like them.

“Where’s your husband?” I asked Claudia when we emerged from the basement. Yes, it took me that long to wonder why Devon Brewster III hadn’t come running at the sounds of the argument or at the gunshot.

“He went to bed,” she answered. I must have made some kind of face, because she hurried to clarify. “He hasn’t slept in two days.” A faint, exhausted smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Neither have I. But I talked him into taking a sleeping pill tonight, so I expect it would take more than a little shouting and the sound of a gunshot in the basement to wake him.”

“You should take one, too,” I said as I followed her through the living room and up another flight of stairs. The children’s sniffles were calming, though both still clung with arms and legs.

“I will,” she assured me. “After I’ve put the girls to bed.”

I followed Claudia into what was perhaps the girliest bedroom I’d ever seen. Everything was pink, and it looked like a lace factory had exploded inside. I suppose to a three- and a five-year-old girl, the place looked like the absolute height of femininity and romance. Myself, I felt immediately like a barbarian invading the royal palace.

I was very happy to have played the hero and saved the children, but I was now more than ready to go home. Claudia set her charge down on a ruffly, cloudpink bed, then pried the other girl out of my arms.

“I’ll take things from here,” she said with a smile. Yup, my poker face was working as well as ever.

“We’ll talk again tomorrow,” Claudia continued, her eyes misting with tears. “I don’t know how I can ever thank you, how I can ever—”

I held up my hand to cut her off, even more uncomfortable now. “Please. I just did what I thought was right. No thanks are necessary.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but then one of the girls pulled on the leg of her tracksuit, demanding attention.

“We’ll talk again tomorrow,” Claudia repeated, then sat on the bed and gathered both children into her arms again.

Not if I could help it, though I wasn’t sure it was possible. Surely we’d have to get our stories straight! A frown puckered my face.

“Um, what about the bodies in the basement?” I asked.

“Your friend said he’d take care of everything,” she responded without even looking at me, her attention riveted on the girls.

I had no idea how Raphael planned to “take care of everything,” but it was clear Claudia wasn’t inclined to discuss it just now, so I backed out of the room and closed the door softly behind me.

I made my way downstairs just as Raphael emerged from the basement. He held up his car keys.

“I’m going to pull my car into the garage. We’ll have to see if we can fit all the bodies into the trunk.”

I looked at him skeptically. These were all demon hosts we were talking about, which meant none of them was exactly tiny. “I don’t know if we could fit two of them in the trunk, much less three.”

Raphael shrugged. “We’ll take two cars if we have to. I’ve got a key to Claudia’s Mercedes.” His gaze darted to something behind me, and his eyes widened.

Because I still didn’t trust Raphael, I had the feeling I was falling for the oldest trick in the book when I looked over my shoulder. But I wasn’t. Devon Brewster III was descending the stairs, fully clothed, his hair showing no signs of having encountered a pillow, his eyes too clear to be those of a man under the influence of a sleeping pill.

“Mr. Brewster?” I asked. “Claudia said you were asleep.” And if you weren’t asleep, why are you coming downstairs instead of hugging your children and helping your wife put them to bed?

Brewster smiled, but it wasn’t a nice expression. “My wife is mistaken. In many things.”