That was Raphael, all right. Always full of compassion. Too bad I couldn’t argue his point. Just listening to the impromptu surgery had my knees shaky and my face coated with sweat. Even if I managed not to vomit, I might pass out, which would be even more humiliating. So I didn’t object to Raphael’s callousness, and I didn’t turn around. Instead, I made a beeline for an armchair tucked in the far corner of the living room, one that would have no view of the foyer.

THERE WAS A LOT OF ACTIVITY OUT IN THE FOYER FOR the next half hour or so. I participated in none of it, couldn’t even see what was going on. But I could guess from the sounds.

Someone did his best to vacuum up the AFID tags the Taser had spewed all over the place. Someone else—or maybe the same someone—mopped the blood off the floor, sending the scent of bleach wafting into the living room. My stomach turned over yet again and I considered going to wait out in the car.

Eventually Adam, still in Cooper’s body but wearing a clean pair of pants, limped his way into the living room, his host and Raphael bringing up the rear. If Adam was able to walk unassisted, then he must have gone a long way toward healing Cooper’s wound already.

Adam drove Cooper’s body to the love seat catty-corner to the couch Barbie still occupied, and sat down.

“Is Cooper still alive and kicking in there?” I asked Adam.

“Yeah. He’s kicking pretty hard, in fact. And he’s healed enough not to require any medical assistance. Tommy, why don’t you come over here and make sure Mr. Cooper stays seated when I’m gone. And Adam, please come rescue me!”

Adam’s host smirked at him. “Not enjoying your stay?”

Adam made a growling sound that sounded all wrong—and not terribly threatening—coming from Cooper’s throat. His host laughed. But he crossed the floor and reached out his hand for Adam to grab.

Adam clasped his host’s hand, but waited for Raphael to come loom over Cooper before transferring.

Even before anyone spoke, it wasn’t hard to tell when the transfer occurred. Adam’s host, obviously, looked exactly the same whether Adam was in residence or not; however, there was a subtle shift in the body language, one I’m sure I wouldn’t have noticed if I didn’t know Adam as well as I did. And if I hadn’t picked up that cue, the sudden hunching of Cooper’s shoulders would have been a dead giveaway.

Adam came to sit on the edge of the couch, forcing Barbie to scooch over. “Let’s see that hand,” he said, lifting the ice bag without asking permission.

I couldn’t tell how bad it was from where I was sitting, and I wasn’t about to stand up to take a better look. Adam frowned down at her.

“Would you like me to heal it for you?” Adam asked. “It would take hours to get it fully mended, but I could get it far enough along so it doesn’t hurt so much anymore.”

Barbie regarded him with wide, wary eyes. She and I weren’t terribly alike, but I had no trouble guessing what was passing through her mind right now. She was remembering Adam’s performance at the club with poor Mary and wondering if she could stand the thought of allowing that creature into her body, even to heal her.

“I think I’ll pass,” she said. “No offense, but if someone’s going to take over my body, I’d rather it be Saul.”

Adam nodded, and I wondered if he’d seen what I’d seen in Barbie’s eyes, or if her excuse fooled him.

“Just make sure no one sees your hand while you’re injured. Having an injury miraculously heal overnight tends to inspire questions.”

Even in the most demon-friendly states, transferring a demon via skin-to-skin contact is illegal, even if both participants are willing. Those who hate and fear the demons—and that’s about half the population of the U.S.—feel safer with that kind of legal protection and don’t care how many lives could be saved and how much pain avoided if demons could be used as healers. Of course, I suspected Adam was far from the only demon to do this kind of illicit healing.

“I’ll be careful,” Barbie promised, and Adam put the ice bag back on her hand. Her eyes squinched at the corners, but she made no other sign that it hurt.

We all turned our attention to Cooper, who looked small and fragile with Raphael looming over him.

“Did you get anything useful out of him?” I asked Adam.

He nodded, but I got the impression that something about what he’d learned bothered him. “I have the name of the leader of the illegal recruitment drive: Jonathan Foreman. Cooper didn’t have an address for him, but I’m sure I can find it myself.”

Raphael, standing behind the couch, bent and put his hands on Cooper’s shoulders, right next to his neck.

“Oh, good,” he said. “That means we don’t need Cooper anymore.”

Cooper let out a squeal of alarm as Raphael’s hands slid to encircle his neck. He clawed at Raphael’s wrists, leaving red marks on Raphael’s skin, but his efforts probably wouldn’t have dislodged Tommy, much less Raphael.

“Don’t you dare kill him!” I said, glaring at Raphael.

Raphael raised his eyebrows, looking mildly curious as Cooper continued flailing at his hands. “Why on earth not? After everything that’s happened tonight, he’s a considerable liability.”

Cooper’s face was turning red, and he was making pathetic little gasping sounds. I loathed Cooper, had loathed him for all of my life. And I had good reasons to want him dead for some of the things he’d done to me in the past. But it turns out I haven’t yet found it in me to just turn my head and let someone be murdered. And I hope I never do.

“Because we’re the good guys,” I said, “and good guys don’t go around murdering people. Now let go of him!”

Raphael, of course, ignored me. I wished my Taser were charged, because there was nothing I could do against Raphael my own puny self without a weapon.

“Adam!” I snapped. “Do something!”

Adam gave me a look, at once impassive and full of meaning. He probably approved of what Raphael was doing. Even if he didn’t, Raphael outranked him. No, only Lugh could stop Raphael, and he didn’t seem to be volunteering for the job.

I was trying to come up with a plan C, but Raphael suddenly dropped his hands from Cooper’s neck. Cooper sucked in great, gasping swallows of air, his hands going protectively to his neck as if to stop Raphael from choking him again.

Raphael smiled pleasantly. “My advice would be to kill him and hide the body where it will never be found.” He looked at Adam. “You’ve had intimate contact with him. Do you think if I reminded him that I could change my mind and come back for him at any time he would see the wisdom of keeping his mouth shut?” Raphael turned his unnerving attention to Cooper. “You’d have to make yourself disappear so you wouldn’t have to tell your Spirit Society friends your demon is gone, but I know you have the means to do it.”

Adam flashed Cooper a feral grin. “What do you think, Brad? Are you going to run around flapping your lips, or would you rather live?”

Cooper, still gasping and coughing, managed to sputter out a promise that he wouldn’t say a word to anyone about what had happened here tonight. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I believed him. But Adam seemed to think he’d keep his mouth shut, and Raphael, for the second time in one night, was showing something that resembled mercy. I wasn’t going to be the one to start baying for Cooper’s blood, not when I’d been about to make a heroic effort to save him.

We trooped out of the house together, leaving Cooper sobbing on his love seat. Adam carried a garbage bag that contained Cooper’s bloody clothes, the bag from his vacuum cleaner, the pillow that had served as a makeshift silencer, and the rags they’d used to clean the floor—the hard evidence that we’d been here tonight and done Cooper harm. Adam was going to have to “lose” his Taser somehow. It wouldn’t go over well with the brass—losses like that couldn’t help but be suspicious—but he’d have a hard time explaining why the Taser had been fired not just once, but multiple times, when he was off duty.