“I’m not—” He shook his head. “Oh, what’s the use?” he muttered under his breath. The expression on his face faded until all that was left was a bland impenetrable mask. “We had numerous facilities throughout the country. Even with our considerable understanding of human biology and genetics, what we were trying to do wasn’t what you’d call easy. There was a lot of trial and error involved.”

I made a sound of disgust. “These are human beings you’re talking about, not lab rats.”

I expected that to piss him off, but his mask stayed firmly in place. “Some of them were sufficiently altered that I rather doubt they still qualified as strictly human. Certainly your father’s strain didn’t. The fact that, except in your mother’s case, we were unable to crossbreed them with human beings. .” He must have realized what thin ice he was treading, for he let his voice trail off. “What is it, exactly, that you want to know?”

“Did you have a facility at Haven Hospital in Houston?”

“Yes, though I personally had little to do with that one.” I gave him a skeptical look, and he smiled a bit grimly. “Would you believe I’m scared of flying?”

I thought about that a minute and realized I did. Planes don’t crash often, but when they do, there’s bound to be a major explosion—and fire. There were plenty of legal demons who worked as firefighters, but their superhuman strength and healing ability could keep them safe in all but the most volatile of situations. Explosions with airplane fuel were about as volatile as you get. It’s thought that around twenty-five demons died on September 11, not from the collapse of the towers—which killed any number of demon hosts, sending their demons back to the Demon Realm—but from their heroic attempts to penetrate the fire.

“But even if you weren’t there in person, you know what was going on,” I said, shaking off my morbid thoughts.

He shrugged. “Their goal was similar to the goals of The Healing Circle’s labs, though they were coming at it from a different angle. The Healing Circle worked on increasing the strength and durability of their subjects. The Houston labs were working on increasing the malleability of human flesh.”

“Huh?”

“We wanted stronger, faster-healing hosts.”

I started to protest, but he held up his hand for silence, and I complied.

“Yes, we can heal our hosts very quickly by human standards. But our hosts can still die of injuries and send us back to the Demon Realm before we’re ready to go. We wanted to create hosts whose flesh could be manipulated well enough to heal even catastrophic injuries quickly. I know I can never expect you to approve of our goals, but this one was actually beneficial to our subjects.”

I snorted. “Your subjects who were held prisoner for their entire lives and then killed when they were no longer useful.”

He had no answer for that accusation. “Why are you suddenly interested in the Haven project?”

I debated how much to tell him, then decided that if I expected him to talk, I needed to bite the bullet and do some talking of my own. So I told him the details of the Tommy Brewster case, watching his face for any trace of expression along the way.

He was silent for a long time after I’d finished, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Well?” I finally prompted when I got tired of waiting.

He blinked, as if coming back from a great mental distance. “From the evidence, it sounds like there’s a definite possibility he’s a product of the Haven project, but I don’t think there’s any way to be sure.”

“And how do you explain his mysterious change of heart? Why did he leave God’s Wrath and register to become a demon host?”

Raphael shrugged, his expression telling me how little this mattered to him. “I’ll buy Adam’s theory that Sammy was possessed, at least until it’s proven wrong. But you know, as fascinating as you might find this puzzle, in the grand scheme of things, it’s unimportant.”

Yeah, that was Raphael all right—compassion personified. “It’s important to the Brewsters.”

“I’m sure it is, but that doesn’t mean it’s important to you.”

“You don’t get to tell me what’s important to me,” I said through gritted teeth.

He rolled his eyes and looked exasperated. “Fine. Sorry I presumed to tell the demon king’s host that she has more important things to do than play girl detective.”

I’m usually a master of sarcasm myself, but I don’t much appreciate it when it’s aimed at me. “How’d you like fifty thousand volts of electricity running through your body?” I asked, though I refrained from actually pulling the Taser. I was sitting too close, and Raphael would be on me before I even got my hand on the damn thing.

Raphael’s nostrils flared. “The next time you Taser me, remember you’re Tasering Andrew at the same time. I can promise I won’t shield him from the sensation.”

I growled in frustration. Raphael laughed, but he sounded more bitter than amused.

“What’s the good of having a hostage if you’re not going to use him, eh?”

My fingers curled into fists, but the emotion that swelled in my chest was more grief than anger. So many people had suffered already because of me.

Raphael sighed, and his voice gentled. “I’m not really threatening to hurt Andrew,” he said. “I’m just trying to discourage you from hurting me. Surely you can understand that?”

Understand? Maybe. Forgive? No way in hell! “Just don’t try giving me orders,” I said, but I sounded defeated. “If I want to investigate the Brewster case, it’s my business, not yours.”

“I’m just suggesting you be reasonable. Think it through! Even if you ever figure out exactly what happened, as far as the law is concerned, Brewster is a legal demon host. Your chances of finding enough concrete evidence to prove he’s not are slim to none.”

There’s nothing like being told I can’t do something to make me bound and determined to do it. “I’ll find a way,” I said, and I meant it.

Raphael dismissed my assertion with a wave of his hand. “No, you won’t. But we’ve argued enough for one day, don’t you think?”

“Fine.” I stood up and managed about three steps toward the door before Raphael stopped me in my tracks.

“There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

My instincts were to get the hell out of there now that I’d gotten as much as I could out of him, but I fought those instincts. I still wasn’t convinced whose side Raphael was on, but I couldn’t deny he was an important player in this deadly war of succession. And if he was actually willing to divulge information for once, it would behoove me to listen.

I forced myself to return to my seat. “I’m all ears,” I said, my voice brittle as broken glass.

“I wish you would let Lugh surface so I could talk to my brother directly,” Raphael said, and I snorted out a laugh.

“Not gonna happen.” Lugh was peeved enough at me to send a spike of pain through my eye, but that didn’t exactly endear him to me.

“So I gathered.” Raphael’s expression changed, the forced blankness disappearing as a mischievous grin took over his face. “I suppose there are some advantages in being able to talk to him without him being able to talk back.”

I felt my lips starting to curve into an answering grin, but stopped myself cold. I was not going to allow Raphael to disarm me. “So what is it you’re so desperate to talk to him about?”

Raphael sat back in the couch, the humor fading from his face. “I’m wondering if he’s formed anything that even vaguely resembles a plan.”

“If he has, I don’t think he’d tell you about it.”

Raphael ignored my comment. “Dougal will keep sending his forces after you. He might not know that you’re still hosting Lugh, but as far as he knows, you know the identity of Lugh’s current host.”

“Thanks to you,” I pointed out. Of course, I had to admit to myself that when Raphael had been playing inside man in Dougal’s conspiracy, he’d had no choice but to tell Dougal the name of the host into which he’d summoned Lugh. But just because I had to admit it to myself didn’t mean I had to admit it to Raphael.