But would Greyson have listened to her, and changed his mind about having Orion killed? He’d said they would discuss it. That didn’t mean he would agree with her.
“Greyson, about Orion…”
“Brian’s here.”
“What? How do you know?”
“Nobody enters or leaves the property without the Gretneg knowing, remember? Except witches, unfortunately. They can break our protections.”
He got up and shuffled through some files on the desk, finally grabbing one and taking some papers out of it. The documents of incorporation they’d taken from her old bedroom.
Brian came in. He smelled like wintry air when he bent to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Jesus, Megan, what happened to you?”
“My—I’m just tired. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
“You should go back to bed.”
Ha. He had no idea how good that sounded. All she wanted to do was go back to bed, and stay there with the covers up over her head and the TV on low. “I’ll be okay.”
“Drink, Brian?”
Brian too took a Coke, then sat down on the opposite end of the couch. “Okay, so what do you need me to look at?”
“This. It’s—it’s related to Megan’s dad. We were hoping you might be able to see him from it, maybe something of his conversation with a couple of demons.”
“Demons aren’t readable, you know that.”
“I know, but Megan’s father was, so maybe you could get something through his eyes.”
Brian nodded and glanced at his watch. “Okay, sure. But I have an interview scheduled in about forty-five minutes, so—”
“It shouldn’t take that long.” Greyson handed the papers to Brian, who closed his eyes.
They flew back open as his face turned bright red. “Whoah! Hey, um, I’m not sure you guys want me to see this.”
God damn it. She was forever doomed to have Brian watch her have sex, it seemed. He’d managed to catch a glimpse of a college boyfriend the night he’d read her after they met, and now…she rubbed her forehead with her hand. This was just perfect.
“Try to go back further,” Greyson said, in his just-doit voice.
“Okay.” Brian used his thumb and forefinger to pick the papers up from the floor where he’d dropped them. “I’ll try again.”
This time he held on. “Okay, your dad—I think that’s your dad, he looks younger than in the picture at the funeral—filing these, thinking about what a great deal he’d made…um…oh, okay. I remember Templeton Black, and that guy from the funeral, Orion? He’s there. Blah blah blah, the hospital will be the perfect place to house your daughter, everything she needs is already there and she’ll be very comfortable, just sign here…they’re sort of smirking at each other but he’s not paying attention…” Brian opened his eyes, and looked up. “Is that it, or do you need more?”
Megan had to force the words from her throat. “No. No, I think we have everything we need.”
“The truck,” as Greyson called it, was actually a Mercedes SUV, with cushiony leather seats big enough to lie down on and dark-tinted windows. It was about as close to a truck as the QE2 was to a rowboat, but it certainly did the job.
Trouble was, it wasn’t a job she wanted it to do. She’d intended that the next time she rode in this particular vehicle they’d be on their way to the woods for a romantic, relaxing holiday, not headed into the belly of the beast—pretty much literally—back in Grant Falls.
Back to the hospital.
She shifted a little, adjusting her blanket. With her head on Greyson’s lap and the soft, heated leather beneath her, she could almost pretend she was back in bed. At least, if not for the murmuring voices of the men and the soft drone of music from the CD player, fading in and out as she dozed.
Nick and the brothers were with them, coming along for moral—well, for support, anyway. But Malleus and Spud in the front seats and Nick and Maleficarum in the back ones did make her feel a little as if she were onstage.
“Just think about it, Nick,” Greyson said above her. “I could really use you here.”
“I like Miami.”
“I know. But I need someone…”
Megan drifted back off. They’d been having this discussion on and off all day, and from the way they spoke she had a feeling it had been going on longer than that.
She was back in her own house, on the couch, watching TV, when the doorbell rang. Her feet seemed to sink into the floor as she got up and crossed the room to open it, knowing it wasn’t the smartest thing to do but unable to stop herself.
Her partners from work, holding bottles of champagne, come to celebrate her father’s death.
Her eyes opened. Only the soft glow of the GPS system in the dash lit the interior of the car; they were well out of the city now, and the moon must have gone behind some clouds. She closed her eyes again, her waking unnoticed. Back to sleep…it was so hard to stay awake.
She was back in the house where her demon died, but when the police came this time, they brought flowers.
“She already hinted she’d accept you as a substitute, if you’ll do it.”
Pause. “You don’t have anybody else?”
“Not really, and…I can’t. I don’t want to. I said I wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, I’ll do it for you. But this is why I don’t want to get involved, man. I don’t get this shit in Miami, nobody bugs me there.”
“You know I wouldn’t ask if…”
Brian Stone took her out to dinner, but there was a huge dog outside the restaurant and they couldn’t leave. For some reason they thought this was amusing and laughed so hard Megan fell down on the cold cement, which was soft as a feather bed.
This time when her eyes opened, she smiled. Greyson’s hand was warm on her hip. She started to snuggle into him, then stopped when Nick spoke.
“Is she going to do the ritual?”
“I don’t know.” Greyson sighed. His thigh tensed under her head but he didn’t move. “I don’t think she knows.”
“You’re not talking her into it?”
“It’s her decision.”
“But I thought—”
“It’s her decision. I can’t interfere with that. Think about it.”
Silence. “I guess I see that. But…I mean…” Nick sounded uncomfortable, as if he’d just offered Greyson oral sex and been turned down.
“Hell, Nick. You know I’d—What the fuck!”
The car crashed into something, skidded, and spun sideways, flinging Megan off the seat onto the floor. For one long, terrifying moment she was certain she was about to die in a crush of metal on a deserted road. Malleus was yelling from the driver’s seat.
Then silence. The SUV gave a final rock to the left and stopped. Bright light flooded the interior of the car as the doors opened, and Greyson grabbed her and pulled her out, setting her down on her unsteady feet.
“I’m okay, I’m okay.” She wrapped her arms around herself. The night air was freezing and her coat was still in the car. Someone laid the blanket over her shoulders; she didn’t turn around to see who. “What happened?”
Greyson pointed behind them.
An oak tree grew by the side of the road, its gnarled arms reaching out as though it could trap the moon between them. From one of those branches dangled a rope, and at the end of that rope hung the body of a man, his eyes black holes in his swollen face. A chair, its legs reduced to splinters by the wheels of the SUV, lay about four feet from the tree.
He’d killed himself. The piece of paper pinned to the front of his shirt testified to that. Suicide, right by the road. It wasn’t the highway, as Megan had thought. They’d gone farther than that. The back of the sign welcoming them to Grant Falls gleamed in the darkness beyond the man’s swinging feet as the first flakes of snow drifted down.
Sleeping further would have been out of the question, even if she’d wanted to. The specter of that grisly welcome home haunted her.