She reached out to touch his arm. He looked so dazed. “Nick. Hey, are you sure you’re all right?”

“Whatever it was . . .” he said, and she realized it wasn’t the physical attack, or whatever it was, that had so shaken him. “Whatever it was, it affected us because of what we are.”

“It’s really bad for psyche demons, you mean.”

He nodded. “It felt . . . I could feel it. It didn’t manage to do exactly what it wanted to because I’m not entirely psyche. It didn’t manage to do it to you because you’re human still. And Tera’s not demon at all, which is why she’s still standing.”

“I felt it, though.” Tera joined them on the floor. They sat there like a trio of early-morning drunks with their legs stretched out before them, Elizabeth Reid in her simpering catatonia essentially forgotten. “It got me; I mean, that really stung.”

Silence fell heavily. Megan knew what they were thinking, what they didn’t want to ask or even think about. But she couldn’t help but think about it. She asked, “So what the hell was it?”

“I don’t know,” the other two replied in unison, followed by equally weak smiles.

“It was beautiful,” Elizabeth said.

Megan didn’t know which surprised her more, what Elizabeth said or that she so obviously meant it. Her entire demeanor had changed. Where she had been affectless, she was animated. It sent cold chills creeping up Megan’s spine.

“What was it, Elizabeth?” No point bothering with “Agent Reid”; the woman obviously didn’t care.

“It touched me.”

“Yes, but do you remember what it looked like? What it is?”

Elizabeth looked at her watch. “I have to go.”

The three on the floor exchanged looks, basically all variations on what-the-fuck. Then Megan caught on.

Her own watch told her it was almost ten. Reverend Walther’s little psychological freak show—maybe she shouldn’t think of it that way, but she did—started at eleven, he’d said. So if Elizabeth planned to be there, she’d want to start getting ready.

Which meant they needed to get ready. Megan’s entire body felt sticky; her hair was drying against her cheeks. She wanted another shower and a change of clothes. She wanted a stiff drink—who gave a damn how early it was—and she wanted to tell Greyson what had happened. He was bound to know something or have some idea how to proceed beyond following Elizabeth over to the Windbreaker and simply watching what happened.

They’d have to watch either way. But she’d feel a hell of a lot better if he was there too, and she knew he’d want to go.

She stood up, noticing with some pleasure that her legs felt almost normal again. “Come on. We have to go see this.”

Chapter 15

Unlike the previous night, the lobby of the Windbreaker teemed with people, hiding the generic wallpaper and grubby carpet. The crowd overwhelmed Megan; she still didn’t quite have her equilibrium back, psychically speaking, and she clung to Greyson’s hand a little harder than normal.

He glanced at her. “They are a bit much, aren’t they?”

She rolled her eyes in response, not quite trusting her voice while she locked her shields as tightly as she could. The despair in this crowd, the anger and misery and fervor that could only be described as bloodthirsty . . . It wasn’t that she was afraid of their emotions touching her. It was that her body, still worn and woozy and a little buzzed from what her demons had given her and the gin she’d downed in the room, instinctively wanted to keep going. To keep feeding. She hadn’t felt her demon this strongly in months; for a moment all she saw were negative emotions coloring the air and making it taste like wine. All she felt was the desire to open up and take it all in.

Greyson returned the pressure on her hand. He didn’t look at her, too busy scanning the crowd, but she knew he knew, that he was simply there waiting until she had won her battle and was ready.

It only took a minute; she’d gotten much better at controlling it. And now that she faced it without the crippling fear and shame of months before, it was much easier to handle. Sort of like getting her first period as a teenager, several years after all the other girls did. A completely alien thing the first few times, gradually becoming just a nuisance.

Beside her Malleus, Maleficarum, and Spud giggled and elbowed each other, with Roc’s little head bowing and dipping as he joined in from Spud’s shoulder. She didn’t think she wanted to know what they found so amusing.

The ballroom doors opened; the crowd pushed forward. “It’s like a wave of stupid,” Tera said behind her. In her hand was a Coke can frosted with cold.

Megan jumped. “You got a drink already?”

Tera shrugged. “I can get through crowds pretty easily if I need to.”

She still looked a tad pale, troubled. Megan didn’t know how powerful Tera really was. She’d always figured Tera was pretty damn powerful, considering her job. But she’d never known her to use that power among humans. Keeping the existence of the supernatural secret was one of Tera’s highest priorities.

Well, hell, if Megan had been able to mutter a few words and get herself a cold Coke faster, she probably would have too. The last thing she wanted to be doing at that moment was getting ready to join the throng of humanity spreading like an oil slick into the ballroom.

She started to anyway, but Greyson held her back. “Let’s let the others get themselves settled first. We’ll stand in the back in case we have to leave.”

“Do you think we’re going to have to leave?”

He shrugged. “I’d rather be able to escape this ghastly horde as quickly as we can, wouldn’t you? We’ll probably catch ringworm or something if we spend too much time with them.”

But the joke wasn’t quite working. Shadows lurked beneath his eyes, the kind she rarely saw, and his smile didn’t reach them; he wasn’t the type to walk around wringing his hands but the signs of worry were there for anyone who knew where to look. She squeezed his hand a little harder, leaned into his side. “I’m more worried we’ll miss lunch.”

“Think the reverend will mind if we order pizza on his time?”

“Well, if we’re there, and he’s there, that makes it our—”

“Grey,” Carter cut in, “I just got a text from Win. He said he has an opening around three, you guys can meet then?”

“No. Tell him I’ll call him when I have an opening.”

They were alone in the lobby, except for a few stragglers messing about with tissues and hard candies just outside the door. The brothers shoved themselves forward, peering into the ballroom as though it were a top-secret nuclear base under fire from aliens, and motioned the others forward. Great. That didn’t attract any attention at all.

And the brothers were so unobtrusive to begin with, in their black caps and clothing, gold glinting on their wrists and fingers. They looked like extras from On the Waterfront.

Of course, she’d forgotten for a moment what the rest of the crowd looked like. Sure, it was a mix. She’d seen enough with her own patients to know that just because a person was religious, that didn’t mean that person was stupid; she would never make such an assumption or generalization, not when faith had so many positive aspects and was so valuable to so many people. And she of all people couldn’t judge those who believed demons existed.

But the desperation of these people, the sadness in the air, set her teeth on edge at the same time as it made her demon heart skip a little beat. These people needed help; they had real problems. And yes, while it was true that some of their problems may very well have been—okay, absolutely were—caused by demons, not all of their problems were. Who knew what kinds of issues they were dealing with?

And instead of something that would really help them, would give them the tools to cope with their lives and feel good about themselves, they were being given gobbledegook about being possessed. As if all of their problems stemmed from that and once they exorcised whatever was living inside them, they’d be perfectly happy, and everything would be fine.