Once again, Saul was nowhere in evidence, though I presumed that, as before, if I made a run for it, he would magically appear to stop me. Not that I actually wanted to make a run for it at this point. I didn’t know who was hosting Psycho Demon right now, but I had to assume it was yet another innocent bystander, and if by some coincidence I should run into him at The Seven Deadlies, I’d need help making sure the host and I both survived the encounter.
The only part of the dream with Lugh that I allowed myself to think about just now was the part where he’d told me I had to put some work into my relationship with Brian if I wanted to have a relationship with him. It was true that just about any time we had a fight, it was Brian who later came bearing the olive branch. I could hardly argue that it wasn’t my turn. But the question remained, would I do more harm than good if I tried to make peace now?
I deliberately poked at my open wound, mentally reliving the moment when I’d realized that Brian believed that I’d cheated on him. The pain stabbed through me with an almost physical force, and I had to fight like hell not to recoil from it and shove it into an imaginary closet where it would never see the light of day again.
The anger came seconds after the hurt, strong and fresh, waving a red flag to let me know it was still ready for action. When I thought about how Brian had snubbed me yesterday, even after he’d found out I hadn’t really cheated on him, the anger rose up to overpower the hurt. I felt my teeth grinding and forced myself to relax my jaw.
Okay, no question about it, I was still seething. Not the right state of mind for a conciliatory visit with Brian. I was more likely to further alienate him than to heal the wound.
Or was that just an excuse because the thought of going to him and being rejected again made me sick to my stomach?
When it came to relationships, there was no denying I was an utter coward. That’s why it was always Brian who had to make the overtures: because I was too chickenshit to do it myself. True, I was still angry; and true, Brian still was, too, though I didn’t understand why. But if I waited for my anger to fade before I approached him, then I’d never do it.
I was still debating my options when Saul made his entrance. Apparently, he hadn’t been standing guard outside after all; he’d been on a dinner run. His haul included six burgers and three extra-large servings of fries from McDonald’s. I guess when you’re a demon, there’s no particular need to eat healthy.
We ate gathered around the dining room table in awkward, nerve-wracking silence. The animosity that sparked between Saul and Raphael was so strong that sometimes I could have sworn I heard the crackling buzz of electricity. I wondered if they’d been fighting this afternoon while I …
I shook my head as I bit into a lukewarm, not terribly appetizing burger. It seemed Saul was doing most of his bodyguard duty at a distance from Raphael, so they probably hadn’t had much opportunity to fight. Besides, if they’d fought, one of them would probably be dead.
I looked back and forth between them. Raphael was pretending to be blissfully unaware of Saul’s death glares, but I suspected that was nothing but a façade.
If at some point they were called upon to do bodyguard duty, would they have each other’s backs? Or were they more likely to shove each other into the line of fire?
Raphael would never hurt Saul, Lugh informed me. I believe he shocked even himself by coming to love his son.
As happened now and again, I felt a surge of pity for Raphael. I knew how much it sucked to love someone and have them hate you in return.
I thought for sure Lugh would correct my melodramatic thinking, but he said no more. So I corrected myself instead: Brian didn’t hate me. Being angry with someone and hating them were not at all the same.
“I’d like to make a stop on the way to The Seven Deadlies tonight,” I said, apropos of nothing. It was so out of the blue I startled even myself. I hadn’t realized I’d come to a decision yet.
“Oh?” Raphael said, raising one eyebrow as he finished off his second burger.
My mouthful of burger suddenly seemed dry and chewy, so I took a big gulp from my glass of water before I continued. Nerves made my voice soft, almost breathy.
“I need to talk to Brian.”
I was staring at my fries, but I didn’t have to look at my dinner companions to feel their eyes upon me. I didn’t even hear any further sounds of chewing.
“Bad idea,” Raphael said. I looked up with a snarl, but he met my eyes steadily. “I talked to Adam while you were sleeping, and you are now an official suspect in Hillerman’s murder. In all likelihood, the cops will be watching for you to show up there.”
“Oh.” Shit, I hadn’t thought of that. And if the police were watching Brian’s apartment, they might have tapped his phone, too, so calling him would be as bad an idea as showing up.
I almost gave up, almost decided the universe was trying to send me a message. But then I thought about the risk I’d be taking the moment I left the sanctuary of Raphael’s house. I didn’t think I was likely to die at Psycho Demon’s hands, not with my demon bodyguards in tow, but I certainly ran the risk of being arrested. It would be really hard for me to make my peace offering if I was in jail.
No, I was going to do it now, before circumstances made it impossible—or I chickened out.
I was too nervous to finish my burger, but I did it anyway, hoping Saul and Raphael would think I’d given up on the idea of talking to Brian. If they knew what I was planning, I’m sure they would try to stop me. The return of the hostile silence didn’t do anything good for my nerves.
When I was finished with dinner, I asked Saul to find a drugstore and buy some hair color. My bright red hair was way too much of a beacon, and though a change in hair color wasn’t much of a disguise, it would have to do. I hadn’t made it to the six o’clock news yet, but there had been a picture of me and an article about Hillerman’s and Keller’s deaths in the paper today. Not on the front page, but still… It was more exposure than I’d liked.
When Saul left, I retired to my room to wait for my clothes to finish drying. And to use the phone.
I was acutely aware of every little sound I made as I dialed Barbie’s number, fearing that Raphael would hear and come running to stop me. He didn’t.
“Hello?” Barbie said.
“Hi. It’s Morgan. I have a huge favor to ask of you.”
I had just emerged from the bathroom with my newly dyed jet-black hair when the doorbell rang. Saul and Raphael were sitting at opposite ends of the living room, as far away from one another as possible, but they sprang to their feet in unison, both their heads turning toward the door with identical alarmed expressions. You see, I hadn’t warned them we were expecting company, mainly since there’d been no guarantee said company would show up.
“At ease, gentlemen,” I said as I headed toward the door.
“What did you do?” Raphael growled the question as he hurried across the room toward me.
“I made a phone call,” I responded in a similar growl. “Now back off!”
By the time I’d made it to the door, my bodyguards had converged, each one grabbing one of my arms. I still managed to glance out the peephole to confirm the identity of our visitors.
“Relax,” I said, trying to yank my arms free, but when you’re a human and a demon’s got ahold on you, you’d rip your arm from its socket before you managed to make them let go. “It’s Barbie and Brian.”
Saul kept his grip on my arm, pulling me back into the living room, while Raphael opened the door. Barbie and Brian accepted his silent invitation to come in. When Raphael closed the door behind them, it wasn’t quite a slam, but it was close.