My hand was still clasped in Andy’s. With a start, I realized that his fingers were actually curled around mine instead of lying limply in my grip. A shot of adrenaline burst through me, and I sat up abruptly and opened my eyes.

Andy’s head was turned toward me, and when our eyes met, I could see the recognition and intelligence in his gaze. Without a moment’s warning, I burst into tears and bowed my head over our clasped hands.

Eventually, I stopped bawling. Andy held my hand the whole time, neither speaking nor moving. I could have used that hand to wipe away the tears, but I wasn’t any more eager to let go than he was.

Sniffling like a baby, I pulled myself together as best I could and met his gaze once more.

“How ya doin’, bro?” I asked.

He managed a faint smile. “Better than about thirty minutes ago,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. His eyes closed for a moment, and worry stabbed through me.

“Andy?”

He opened his eyes again, and I noticed for the first time the haunted expression in them. He didn’t speak, and I couldn’t think of anything to say.

I hadn’t spoken to Andy, the real Andy, for ten years. The last time I’d spoken to him, I’d let him know in no uncertain terms that I hated his guts for volunteering to host a demon. For years, I’d believed that. Not until Adam shot him had I realized how untrue those words had been.

Thinking about that awful moment reminded me of some problems I’d rather have ignored. Like the explanation we’d given the police for what had happened to Andy, which had been a complete work of fiction. God, I hoped he was willing to go along with the story, even though it painted his demon, Raphael, in the worst possible light.

How much did he know? I’d gotten the impression Raphael had made a habit of blocking Andy out to keep him from overhearing state secrets. Did Andy remember anything about the confrontation that led to his temporary death? Perhaps not. Perhaps all he knew was the official story, which he had surely overheard multiple times during his stay here.

But I wasn’t about to bring that up now. Maybe I couldn’t think of anything to say to my brother after his ten-year absence from my life, but I wasn’t going to dump problems on him to break the awkwardness. At least, not yet.

“Thanks for coming to visit,” Andy said, his voice weak and sickly. “I always knew you were here, even if I couldn’t talk.”

I gave his hand a squeeze. “Hey, in spite of our differences, you’re still my big brother.”

He smiled, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “You told Raphael I was dead as far as you were concerned.”

I winced and looked away. “I know.” Remembering some of the other things I’d said to Raphael, I squirmed with guilt. I’d been very, very hard on Andy.

“It’s okay,” he assured me. “Raphael was a real son of a bitch, and I’m the one who brought him into your life.”

I raised my head, surprised at the bitterness in his voice. The only other demon host I knew who’d lost his demon and was still functional—Dominic—had been so attached to his demon that I’d expected Andy to be the same way. Although I had to admit, I had a hard time imagining anyone being attached to Raphael.

“So you’re not sorry he’s gone?” I asked.

He shuddered. “No. Adam did me a real favor by helping me get rid of him.” Well, that answered the question of whether he knew what had really happened.

His jaw clenched, and he let go of my hand. He shifted position in the bed, then winced. “God, I feel weak as a newborn. And I’m more than ready to lose the diaper. Could you go let the nurses know I’m back?”

I didn’t want to leave his side, especially with all the questions and regrets that swarmed me, but I knew if I’d been in his position, I’d be in a hurry to regain my dignity, too. I wanted to hug him, or kiss him, or even ruffle his hair, but his body language didn’t invite affection.

“I’ll be right back,” I told him around the lump in my throat. He merely nodded, not looking at me. I didn’t know if he was angry at me, or at Raphael, or at Lugh, or just at the situation in general. But there’d be time to talk about that later.

Knees feeling a bit wobbly, I went to the nurses’ station and gave them the good news. Looking genuinely delighted, a nurse and an orderly hurried to his room, telling me to stay put while they helped Andy get cleaned up and dressed.

“Here,” the remaining nurse at the station said, pushing a phone toward me. “I’ll let you be the one to give your parents the good news.”

I made a face. I didn’t want to talk to my parents under ordinary circumstances. After what I’d learned this afternoon, I wanted to even less. However, it would probably take more energy than I had to talk the nurse into taking the phone back, so I gritted my teeth and made the call.

Naturally, my mother was beside herself with glee, and I knew she and my dad would be at the hospital as soon as humanly possible. I’d have given everything I owned to get the hell out of there before they made their grand entrance, but I couldn’t walk out on Andy like that. Not after he’d been gone for so long.

I took a seat in the depressing waiting area and tried not to chew my lip raw. Eventually, the nurse came to get me, beaming. “You can go back into the room now,” she informed me, and I tried to smile at her.

Don’t get me wrong—I was thrilled that Andy had awakened. But I was such an emotional mess myself that I couldn’t manage the giddy excitement I thought I should be feeling. Andy and I had been estranged, at best, when he’d gone to the ceremony that drew Raphael into the Mortal Plain, and now he’d been dormant inside his own body for ten long years. The man who awaited me in that room was a stranger.

I stood in the doorway a moment, struggling against my cowardly impulse to flee. Then, with a deep breath, I pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside.

Dressed in blue jeans and a black T-shirt that hung loosely on his gaunt frame, he sat in a wheelchair, eyes fixed on his hands, which were clenched in his lap. He didn’t seem to notice me entering the room.

“Andy?” I asked hesitantly. “You okay?”

He blinked and looked up at me. “Yeah. Fine.” He tried a smile, but it was a sorry effort. “Apparently, it’s going to take me some time to regain my strength,” he said. His voice still sounded weak and raspy, but then his vocal cords were out of practice. “It was all I could do to stand up long enough for them to get the pants on.”

I bit my lip. “I’m sorry.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What for?”

I sighed. “Everything?”

He laughed briefly. “That certainly covers all the bases.”

The awkward silence threatened to return, and I rushed to fill it. “Mom and Dad are on their way.”

To my surprise, he grimaced. He and my folks had always gotten along famously, what with him being the golden boy and all.

He saw my surprise and shook his head. “They’re going to expect me to exonerate Raphael, and obviously I can’t do that.”

As far as everyone except myself, Adam, and Dominic knew, Raphael had gone rogue, kidnapping and torturing my boyfriend to punish me for the bad blood between us. My parents had always refused to believe that. They loved Raphael as if he were their true son, not Andy.

“How much do you remember?” I asked.

He closed his eyes. “Exactly as much as Raphael wanted me to. He made sure I knew the party line before he left me. Just in case I’d ever be a functional human being again.” He sighed. “How much do you want to bet Mom and Dad are going to try to convince me that there must be some kind of misunderstanding?”

I frowned. “I know they won’t be happy, but surely once you confirm the story, they’ll have to believe it.”