Brian visibly calmed himself, and when next he spoke, his voice was a lot softer. “Just think about it, okay?”

“I don’t need to think about it. The answer is no, and the answer will stay no. I’m not palming Lugh off on some random stranger, even if the host is brain-dead after the exorcism. And if I did decide to do such a thing, it wouldn’t be because you can’t bear to be with me because I’m possessed.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “I never said—”

“You don’t have to say it. I’m getting the message loud and clear. And I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Morgan—”

I pushed past him and headed for the front door. He hurried after me and grabbed my arm. It didn’t improve my disposition.

“Let go,” I said, and though I wasn’t shouting anymore, there was no doubt he heard the simmering fury in my voice. “We’re done with this subject, and if you don’t get out of here, I’m going to let Lugh take control so he can bodily remove you.”

Brian let go of my arm and shook his head. “Fine, I’ll go. I’m sorry I offended your delicate sensibilities.”

I jerked open the front door and pointed to the hallway. “Out!”

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Gee, that went well,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped out into the hallway.

I slammed the door after him.

IT DIDN’T OCCUR TO ME UNTIL ABOUT A HALF HOUR after Brian left, while I was still fuming, that Lugh hadn’t uttered a peep during my little talk with Brian. True, Lugh didn’t always intervene in our arguments, but it seemed to me that that particular discussion was one he had a stake in. It wasn’t like him not to let his opinion be known.

I waited a couple beats after this surprising realization, expecting Lugh to chime in to answer my thoughts, but he didn’t.

“What’s with the silent treatment?” I asked him.

To my surprise, he didn’t answer.

“Lugh?” I prodded. “Hello?”

Still nothing.

When I’d first begun hosting Lugh, he’d only been able to communicate with me through dreams. Then he’d progressed to being able to talk to me when I was under a lot of stress and my mental barriers were weakened. Eventually, it had gotten to the point where my mental barriers were down altogether, and he talked to me whenever he felt like it. I’d gotten so used to it that this sudden silence was strangely unsettling.

Had my barriers inexplicably gone back up? Did Lugh not feel like talking? Or was there something wrong? Alarm stabbed through me. I couldn’t imagine what could be wrong, but since everything about our relationship was outside the norm for demons and their hosts, who knew what could happen.

“Come on, Lugh. You’re freaking me out here.”

No answer. It had to be my mental barriers, I decided. Somehow, my fight with Brian had raised them again. My subconscious is so powerful it’s scary, and I’d never had much luck pushing it around.

I cursed my subconscious now. I wanted to talk to Lugh, find out what he thought of Brian’s proposal. Did he think I was trying to sabotage my relationship with Brian—yet again—by being so completely obstinate about this? I didn’t think that myself, but then I’ve never been the best judge. Loving Brian as much as I did was arguably scarier for me than being the demon king’s human host. And there were times I’d been scared enough by the intensity of my love for him to do really stupid things.

But the truth was, I wasn’t sure Brian and I would have lasted as long as we had if it hadn’t been for Lugh’s help. I’d shot myself in the foot about twenty times since Lugh had moved in, and I’m not sure I’d ever have noticed myself doing it if I didn’t have my own internal psychoanalyst.

I had a long and strange evening. It’s not like Lugh and I are in constant conversation with one another. We could easily go a couple of days without a word passing between us, and it never bothered me. But now, I hadn’t heard from him in a handful of hours, and I was ready to tear my hair out.

By bedtime, I felt like a junkie who hadn’t had her fix. As illogical as it was, I could hardly wait to fall asleep and talk to Lugh. Maybe he would understand why my subconscious walls had suddenly gone up again. And, of course, I could ask him if he thought I was being a stubborn, self-destructive bitch for reacting so violently to Brian’s suggestion.

I wanted to fall asleep so badly that it was actually pretty hard to sleep. But eventually, I drifted off.

When I woke up at eight in the morning, having slept dreamlessly through the night, I was on the verge of tears. Lugh had been able to talk to me through dreams almost since the very beginning, and yet last night he hadn’t talked to me. What the hell did it mean? I was having trouble believing my subconscious barriers had gotten so strong he couldn’t even talk to me in my dreams. I pressed a hand to my chest.

“Lugh, where are you?” I asked the empty room. There was, of course, no answer.

I spent the day trying not to worry about what was going on with Lugh. Of course, you know how successful it is to order yourself not to worry.

And anticipation of another trip to The Seven Deadlies didn’t make the day any better. But it turned out I needn’t have worried about our planned visit.

At a little after five, the front desk called and let me know Adam was there. I wasn’t expecting him, so right away I suspected that something bad had happened. I told them to send him up and spent the time it took him to get to my door worrying about what was going on. It sure would be nice if these demons would call me every once in a while instead of just showing up. But I guess talking on the phone is less than discreet.

The look on Adam’s face when I opened the door confirmed my suspicion that bad news was coming my way yet again. He looked as grim as I’d ever seen him, and I had the cowardly urge to shove him out the door and cover my ears so I didn’t have to know what had put that look on his face. Of course, we’d already established that shutting the door against a demon wasn’t going to do a lick of good.

“How bad is it?” I asked as I led the way into the kitchen for the ritual pot of coffee.

“Pretty damn bad,” Adam said as I started shoveling the last of Dom’s Italian roast into the filter basket. “Shae’s dead.”

I dropped the coffee scoop, scattering grounds all over the counter and the floor. “What?” I asked, hardly believing what I thought I’d just heard him say.

“Neighbors heard a commotion this morning before dawn, Shae and some guy yelling at each other. It sounded like it started getting violent, so they called the police. By the time the police got there, smoke was pouring out the windows.”

“Holy shit!” He didn’t just mean Shae’s host was dead—he meant Shae, the demon, was dead.

“The fire was relatively easy to contain, so at least there were no other casualties,” Adam continued, his voice flat. “It was set in Shae’s bedroom, and the killer made a tidy little bonfire there, complete with some kind of accelerant. It doesn’t take a lot of expertise to tell that her body was ground zero.”

I swallowed hard. There was something primally terrifying about the idea of burning to death, and as much as I’d disliked Shae, I wouldn’t have wished it on her. “Are you sure it’s her?”

“The body’s burned beyond recognition and we’ll have to wait for dental records to be legally sure. But I’m sure it’s her.”

I started sweeping grounds off the counter and into the sink, but I think I was spilling as much onto the floor as I was getting in the sink. I kept doing it anyway, because as long as my hands were moving it was harder to see how much they were shaking.

“Do you think it’s because she gave me that information?” I asked, and my voice sounded thin and tight to my own ears.