“I suggest we skip the formal dinner this evening and meet up here around eight.”

“Why?” Gunnar asked.

Greyson’s eyebrows rose. “To go kill the angel.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” Gunnar smoothed his hair, looked around him as if the walls were threatening to close in and he needed to keep an eye on them. “It could kill us all, Grey. I think you’re being a bit—”

“Would you rather sit around and wait for it to pick us off, one by one?”

“I don’t think—I mean, we don’t know that it’s after all of us.”

Winston leaned away from Gunnar, peered at him through narrow eyes. “Gunnar, it’s been killing our employees. Our rubendas. It attacked Megan and killed Justine. Do you think it’s come to invite us to a tea party?”

Silence fell over the table—well, they’d all been silent anyway, but this was a deeper silence—while Gunnar’s pale cheeks reddened. “No. I just don’t think we should go running over to that hotel with our guns drawn. I think it would be better to stick together, all of us here, and wait for it to come to us. So we can ambush it and be prepared.”

Baylor tilted his head. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“I’m for Grey’s plan,” Winston said. “So that’s three for and two against. So we’ll go over there tonight.”

“Megan hasn’t given her opinion,” Baylor said.

Winston glared at him. “Of course she agrees with Greyson.”

“But she hasn’t said she does. You’re just assuming.”

Greyson sighed. A loud sigh, a sigh with purpose. “I’m going over there tonight whether the rest of you come with me or not.”

“I’ll go with you,” Winston said.

Everyone looked at Megan. At least everyone except Greyson, who was studying the crown molding on the opposite wall.

“No,” she said. “We’ll all go. Greyson and Winston can’t go by themselves.”

“Good.” Winston touched her arm. “Now, Megan, you beat the angel the night before last by yourself, correct? Because of your psyche demon side. I’ve never heard of such a thing happening, but . . . why don’t you get together with Greyson’s friend Nick, and the two of you figure out how to use those powers? He’s part psyche demon, is he not?”

“Yes, he—he is,” she managed. “But—”

“Grey, you tell Megan everything you think she might need to know, and make sure Nick comes along.”

“Perhaps you should do that.”

Win looked surprised. “Why?”

Greyson hesitated, glanced at her so fast she would have missed it if she hadn’t been watching for it. “I just think it might be easier.”

“Oh, no. I have a full afternoon planned.” Winston stood up as well, picked up the notepad by his seat. “If we’re going to battle an angel this evening, I want to make sure my affairs are in order. Probably a good idea for all of us, don’t you think?”

Chapter 25

His tall form didn’t appear to be running down the blank white hallway toward the elevators, but he still moved too fast for her; she was practically jogging by the time she finally caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “Greyson, wait!”

She’d never seen his eyes that cold. He snatched his arm out of her grasp. “What do you want?”

“You said you’d tell me about the angel.”

“Why don’t you ask Nick?”

“I need to talk to you about that. About Nick.”

“I really don’t want to hear the details, Megan. Or should I say, any more details.”

“But that’s not—”

“He’ll tell you whatever it is you need to know. I don’t think you and I have much to say to each other at this point, do you?”

He didn’t wait for her reply, just turned and started down the hall. She started to move too, then paused. Waited.

He hit the button, and the elevator doors opened; Megan slipped inside just before they closed.

A wave of cold blasted over her skin; he was pissed. That was fine, because so was she. When he reached for the button to open the doors again, she stepped in front of them, blocking them. “It wasn’t Nick’s fault.”

“Yes, so you said. Thank you. It’s so much more pleasant for me to picture you seducing him, rather than the other way around.”

“Nobody seduced anybody. It wasn’t—”

“Oh, of course. It was an accident. You fell, right?”

She closed her eyes for a second, took a deep, calming breath. This wasn’t working, and it wasn’t why she was there. “It wasn’t Nick’s fault. Think whatever you want about me. You’re obviously going to anyway, you don’t want to listen to anything I have to say. But don’t blame Nick. He—he tried to stop it, he didn’t want to—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. This just keeps getting better. What’s next, Megan? Will you describe it for me in detail? Maybe you can show me how you swarmed all over him like some hormonal octopus, wouldn’t that be fun? Because what I really, really want, more than anything, is to get as complete a mental picture of this as I possibly can.”

“Picture whatever you want, but nothing happened. He didn’t even—we didn’t—it was a couple of kisses, and it didn’t mean anything. We were drunk. I was hurt and upset and angry. And, which I personally think is kind of important, you and I aren’t together anymore. It’s not like I cheated on you.”

His face darkened. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him so angry. The elevator around them shrank; the temperature dropped so low she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She was suddenly aware that they were alone together in a tiny room, suspended by wires. The night before he’d lost control, the first time she’d ever seen that happen. The first time she’d ever seen him come close to that happening. She didn’t want to see it again.

“Yes. You’re right. You left me before you seduced my best friend. I asked you to be my wife, and you said no, and then you seduced my best friend. Thank you so much for reminding me of that part. As if I could fucking forget.”

“I didn’t leave you so I could seduce anyone. I don’t want anyone else. I . . .” Shit. She had no idea what to say, and her eyes stung. She rolled them up, hoping to keep the tears from falling. It worked but probably made her look ridiculous. “I was just so damn mad at you. How could you keep that from me? How could you—how could you hurt me like that, not trust me like that?”

For a long moment they stood there, while she tried to get herself under control and waited for him to yell again.

He didn’t. Instead he sighed; she felt some of the tension lessen, felt his anger recede. “Does it matter? What difference does it really make, Megan? This is pointless. It’s over. You said no. There’s nowhere left for us to go.”

The words fell with the finality of a medieval deathbell.

Not for the first time, the idea of simply giving in occurred to her. The way he’d said that, the fact that he’d come to her room the night before, made her think it was entirely possible she could end this stand-off, could end all of this absolute misery, just by giving in.

And really, she’d lost her job once before. Well, she hadn’t lost it, she’d left it; her share in Serenity Partners, the therapy practice she’d been part of. She’d given that up. It had been sad, but it hadn’t killed her, hadn’t done this to her.

But she’d known she could start her own practice. She’d had her radio show.

And it had been her decision. Hers. Yes, it had been sort of forced on her, the day she fed off someone—the sister of a patient who’d died, and his death was her fault as well—but nobody made giving up the practice a condition of anything. Nobody had made it a condition of something that shouldn’t have had any conditions. Nobody had deliberately hidden that information from her.

So she didn’t make the offer. She couldn’t. “Will you please tell me what I need to know? For tonight?”

He considered it, his eyes closed. Nodded.