“I doubt it,” Raphael said.
“It’s a challenge,” Adam said. “He meant for Lugh to find out about this. He thinks it will bring Lugh out of hiding.”
“Maybe,” Raphael said, but he didn’t sound convinced. He looked at me. “Has Lugh got anything to say?”
I waited a beat to see if Lugh would answer, but he didn’t. I shook my head. “He appears to have declared radio silence.”
“Don’t even think about doing anything stupid, Lugh,” Raphael said. “Even if Dougal is tweaking you, there’s nothing you can do about it.”
Still no response from Lugh. I found that as unsettling as Raphael did, and I wished I could see into Lugh’s mind like he could see into mine.
“Before anyone goes off half-cocked,” Adam said, “let’s find out what’s really going on. Maybe Dougal’s emptying the prisons because he wants to use them as cannon fodder to help him take over the Mortal Plain. Or maybe he’s trying to flush Lugh out of hiding. Or maybe he’s planning something we haven’t even thought of.”
The possibilities are not mutually exclusive, Lugh said, breaking his silence.
Yeah, I don’t know if mentioning that is a good idea, unless we want to have Raphael and Adam sitting on us for the rest of my life to make sure you don’t “do something stupid.”
“So what do you, in your infinite wisdom, suggest we do?” Raphael asked Adam with one of his trademark sneers.
Adam can be a hothead at times, but he kept his cool, despite Raphael’s attempt to provoke him. “We wait until Thursday and have a talk with Mary’s handler. He’ll be a step higher on the totem pole, and will know more.”
“Do you really think she’ll call you?” Barbie asked.
“She’ll call.” Adam’s tone said there was no doubt in his mind, and I tended to believe him.
“So once again, we sit around and wait,” Raphael grumbled.
“Do you have a better idea?” I countered. “Because I don’t think jumping up and down and screaming
‘The sky is falling’ is all that useful unless there’s something you plan to do about it.”
Raphael shot me a glare that would have frozen molten lava, and I was glad I wasn’t within his easy reach. He’d slugged me before, and he looked like he wanted to do it again. But he obviously didn’t have a better idea, because he kept his mouth shut.
“All right then,” I said. “Let’s all go home and fill in our significant others before they worry themselves to death.”
The only way we’d been able to keep Brian, Dominic, Saul, and Andy from coming to the club with us as “backup” was by promising a full report as soon as it was all over.
Raphael laughed. “Our significant others, eh? Does that mean I should give Andrew a call when I get home? He’s the closest thing I have to a significant other.”
“You leave Andy alone!” I snapped. “I’ll call him as soon as I’ve talked to Brian.”
Raphael shrugged nonchalantly. “Whatever you want. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had quite enough of this place for one night.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
It was after two A.M. when I got home. I’d kind of hoped that Brian would be waiting there for me, preferably in my bed, but he wasn’t. Trying to deny the hurt that stabbed through me, I changed into my PJs then sat cross-legged on my bed as I dialed Brian’s number.
He answered on the first ring, which suggested he’d been waiting by the phone. Even if he was suddenly struggling to deal with my dual personality, he still worried about me, I guess. That couldn’t be a bad sign.
I filled him in on what had happened at the club, though I left out some of our more alarming speculation. He’d probably come up with the same ideas on his own, but until we had solid facts, I didn’t want to worry him any more than necessary.
If Brian had any theories of his own, he kept them to himself. I thought about trying to talk a little more about our Lugh issue, but like I said, it was after two. I was exhausted, and I was sure Brian was as well. The likelihood that we’d have a productive conversation was low.
After an awkward and uncomfortable good-bye, I called Andy.
“I just got off the phone with Raphael,” he told me as soon as he picked up.
You know how in cartoons, steam blows out of characters’ ears when they’re pissed? That’s how I felt at that moment.
“I told that asshole to leave you alone,” I said through gritted teeth. If I’d thought Raphael was serious about calling Andy, I’d have done it myself first thing and let Brian wait.
“It’s okay,” Andy said. “He was relatively civil. No harm, no foul.”
Maybe, but Raphael had harmed Andy so much already …
“Morgan? You still there?”
“Yeah,” I said, releasing a deep breath and trying to relax. “I just don’t want you around him any more than absolutely necessary.”
“Believe me, I don’t want that, either. But all he did was call and tell me what happened at the club. No big deal. Honest.”
“Okay,” I answered, unconvinced. It was hard not to look at everything Raphael did upside down and sideways, searching for a self-serving motive.
Andy and I never did too well with chitchat, so we hung up shortly after that. Tired as I was, I didn’t feel like sleeping yet. I’d have said I was afraid of having nightmares, but Lugh had put a stop to all nightmares, even all regular dreams. I plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. The chance of finding anything interesting to watch at this hour was approximately zero, but channel surfing at least gave me something to do.
I practically dropped the remote when I came upon a commercial I’d never seen before. It looked like one of those glorified army commercials—the kind that made it look like joining the army automatically transforms you into Macho Hero He-Man, who can leap tall buildings in a single bound. Only I knew immediately this wasn’t an ad for any of the armed forces.
It was a montage of scenes, strung together with rousing orchestral music in the background.
A fireman leapt out of a blazing building, carrying a small child in his arms.
An EMT bent the twisted frame of a wrecked car just enough so his team could extricate an unconscious woman from the driver’s seat.
A policeman chased an armed thug, catching up to him and tackling him even though he’d taken two shots to the chest.
Another uniformed man—National Guard, I thought—helped shore up a levee in a blinding rainstorm, carrying so many sandbags his feet should have sunk into the ground from the weight.
There was no narrative, no voice-over. But the commercial ended with the words “Make a difference”
in stark white letters on a black background. Below that was an 800 number and a Web address.
I stared at the TV in horror. We’d speculated that the Spirit Society might be persuaded to lower their standards for demon hosts, but we hadn’t thought about a national recruitment campaign.
Make a difference. It was what ninety-nine percent of all demon hosts wanted to do, and I could easily see it as a siren call to people with self-esteem problems.
I tried to tell myself that they wouldn’t drum up much business running the ad at two in the morning, but of course I knew they were likely running it in prime time as well. A century ago, belonging to the Spirit Society had been a federal offense, punishable by life in prison; now they were recruiting on national TV.
I clicked off the TV and dropped the remote on the coffee table. Then I convinced myself I had a headache and downed a couple Tylenol PM before climbing into bed and pulling the covers over my head.
I woke in the morning to the sound of the phone ringing. I’m always groggy in the morning when I take something to help me sleep, so instead of answering, I snuggled deeper into the covers. A minute passed, and then the phone rang again. I groaned and jammed a pillow over my head to drown out the noise. Whoever it was could leave a message, damn it!