I’d received three more death threats on my answering machine, though so far no one had attempted to make good on them.

And I’d confirmed that there was no one by the name of Barbara Paige working for the Philadelphia Inquirer. I’d hoped that meant she was law enforcement of some kind—which would be bad enough, but which I could at least deal with—but Adam had done some digging and hadn’t been able to find any evidence that she worked with the police or FBI.

I had an uncomfortable suspicion that I hadn’t seen the last of Reporter Barbie, whoever she really was. And I didn’t think she was in my corner. I couldn’t help wondering if there was a connection between Jordan Maguire’s death, the death threats on my answering machine, and the sudden appearance of Reporter Barbie on the scene. I didn’t like the implications if there was.

But all of these problems paled in comparison to this very unsavory meeting of Lugh’s council. Because, you see, we were about to do something that I was convinced was morally wrong. Brian wholeheartedly agreed with me, but ours were the lone voices of dissent. I don’t think Andy was happy with the idea, either, but he didn’t put up much of an argument. He’d been subdued and unnaturally quiet ever since he’d come back, and so far my attempts to draw him out had met with no success. When I asked him what was wrong, I was met with the most stereotypical of all male answers: “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Brian and I could have stayed away, boycotted this whole thing. But the fact was there was no way we could stop it, and if we weren’t going to stop it, then we would bear witness. So it was that we found ourselves in this basement, complicit with the other members of Lugh’s council even if we weren’t in agreement.

Each of us held a bloodred candle, those candles providing the only light in the room. We sat in a circle, but we didn’t have to hold hands or anything.

In the center of the circle, Dick lay on his back, with his hands clasped loosely over his midsection. The expression on his face was one of almost beatific joy, and eagerness seemed to flow out of him in waves.

I blinked away a hint of tears. Dick’s eagerness didn’t make this right. It hadn’t taken more than about ten minutes of conversation with him to realize that by all legal definitions, he was not competent to make such a decision. We were none of us psychologists, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Dick had the emotional and intellectual maturity of a child.

He had not been educated. He had not been taught any real social skills. He had not interacted with other, non-possessed human beings. And he’d been taught since the day he was born that he was merely an empty vessel, meant to be filled by a demon when his body was mature. Of course if someone asked him if he’d like to be the host of the demon Saul, he’d say yes.

I’d tried calm, rational arguments. That hadn’t lasted very long before I’d transitioned to shouting and invective. But to Adam and Dom and Lugh, it seemed that they’d found an ideal host for Saul. When I’d questioned Dominic about how his morbidly masochistic former demon would treat poor, mentally challenged Dick, Dominic had dismissed my concerns.

“Saul will take good care of him,” Dom had insisted, and I’d felt like slapping him.

“If Saul’s such a fucking saint, then why was Lugh so worried about finding a compatible host for him?”I asked.

Dominic gave me a hard look. “Because there are a lot of people out there who have a very judgmental outlook on BDSM practices, and Saul would not get along well with one of them, nor would one of them be happy to host him.”

“And you think Dick is into S&M?” I cried.

“No. I think Dick has never been taught to think of it as something sick and deviant, so it won’t bother him as it would some people.” There was no question which “some people” he meant. “And just like Saul shielded me from feeling it when things got rougher than I like, he’ll shield Dick. He’s really quite compassionate.”

I’d managed to stop myself from arguing more, because it was clear even to a stubborn mule like me that I wasn’t changing Dom’s mind.

I’d assumed that to initiate the ritual, I’d be asked to let Lugh take control so he could tell Dick Saul’s True Name for the incantation. Of course, my inclination was to refuse, but I didn’t think Raphael or Adam would have any problem with the idea of knocking me unconscious so Lugh could take over without my permission.

But when the ritual began, it turned out my assumption had been wrong. Raphael put down his candle and broke the circle, kneeling on the floor beside Dick, then bending to whisper something in his ear. He straightened up and raised his eyebrows at Dick.

“Got it?” he asked.

Still smiling like this was the greatest day of his life, Dick nodded. Raphael returned to his place and picked up his candle. I had no idea what was going to happen next. Usually, summonings are performed only by the inner circle of the Spirit Society, so I had nothing to do with them.

I expected there to be a lot of chanting and other mumbo jumbo. After all, the Spirit Society is big on ritual and formality. Then again, we weren’t the Spirit Society.

In the center of the circle, Dick began to whisper, the words so soft I couldn’t make out anything except a breathy hiss. Even though I couldn’t make out the words, there was a definite cadence to the sounds, and I could tell that Dick repeated the sequence three times.

No bells clanged. No lights flashed. There was no speaking in tongues, nor any sense of a malevolent presence. It was almost anticlimactic.

After the third repetition of the chant, Dick fell silent. Seconds later, he blinked, and I could immediately see that it wasn’t Dick anymore. The vapid, vacant expression had faded, and though it could have been entirely my imagination, I thought I saw a keen intelligence in those formerly dull eyes.

The demon Saul pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked around him. He grinned broadly when he saw Adam, then looked astonished when he caught sight of Dominic.

“Many things have changed since you left the Mortal Plain, my friend,” Adam said. “And yes, Dom knows it’s you.” He put his arm around Dominic’s shoulders in a gesture I couldn’t help seeing as possessive.

I think Saul saw it that way, too. He raised an eyebrow, then seemed to decide to leave that puzzle for later. He continued looking around the circle, scowling when he saw me, but he clearly didn’t recognize anyone else.

“Welcome back to the Mortal Plain,” Raphael said, and there was a strangely ironic grin on his face.

Saul turned his attention to Raphael, looking him up and down before he shrugged. “Am I supposed to know you?”

“I look a little different than I did the last time you saw me.”

Saul narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he demanded.

Raphael sighed. “Would it help you identify me if I told you that I’m the one who gave your host your True Name?”

Saul scrambled to his feet, and the rest of us instinctively did the same. Can you give me a hint at what’s going on? I asked Lugh.

I think you’re about to find out, he replied grimly. Saul stood stiffly in the center of the circle, fists clenched at his sides as he stared at Raphael. I think he’d forgotten the rest of us were there.

“Please tell me you’re Lugh!” Saul demanded.

Raphael grinned, but the expression was strained. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t terribly happy about it. “Would you have me lie to you?”

Saul snorted. “Why not? Lying is your most practiced skill!” He suddenly turned to face Adam, who stood almost directly behind him. “And you’re allied with him?” he asked in obvious outrage. “I would never have believed—”

“Yes, I’m allied with him,” Adam interrupted. “But believe it or not, he’s allied with Lugh. It seems his allegiance with Dougal was another one of his lies.”