A major case of cold feet hit me around eleven, and I had to reread Abraham’s note several times to remind myself of why I had to do something that seemed patently stupid, even to me. God, I was so sick of being caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place, which is where I seemed to spend most of my life these days. But despite the cold feet, I called a cab to pick me up at eleven-thirty.
At eleven twenty-five, I knew I couldn’t delay it any longer. It was time to go. Feeling a bit morbid, I grabbed the note from Abraham and scribbled on the back, “If I don’t come back, please tell Brian I love him, and I’m sorry I was such a rotten girlfriend.” Someone would find it eventually and know what had happened to me.
If I’d thought of it earlier, I’d have written something more eloquent, but now there was no time. I left the note on the dining room table, then took a deep breath and headed out.
The cab arrived on time, which was a nice surprise. I gave the driver an address near the building where I was to meet Abraham. He gave me a funny look—it wasn’t exactly a good place for a woman to hang out at any time, much less late at night—but he wasn’t enough of a Good Samaritan to try to talk me out of it.
I walked the last couple of blocks, wanting to get a look at my destination before I arrived. The building was much like I expected it—a large brick monstrosity with boarded-up windows and colorful graffiti scrawled across every flat surface. It had probably been some kind of a warehouse in its heyday. The door had been forced open, the frame flapping loose. I couldn’t see any light inside, but I felt sure Abraham was there, with whatever nasty surprise he had in store for me.
I looked all around me, checking to make sure no one was watching. I needn’t have bothered. The street was deserted, and while there were plenty of cars going by, they were all on the opposite side of the river. Although I didn’t think Abraham was going to make this so easy for me, I armed my Taser and held it out before me. I swallowed what I hoped was the last of my fear and pushed open the door.
It was pitch-dark inside, and I wished I’d thought to bring a flashlight. If the windows hadn’t been boarded up, I might at least have had some moonlight to work with, but no such luck. Abraham could jump me, and I wouldn’t see him coming until it was way too late.
My pulse kicked up as adrenaline surged through my system, anxious for me to fight or flee.
“Drop the Taser, or this will get ugly fast,” said an unfamiliar woman’s voice from somewhere deep inside the darkness.
Whoever she was couldn’t possibly see the Taser. It was too damn dark in here. My heart sank a bit. So dark that even the tiny indicator lights on the Taser glowed like beacons.
“Don’t make me tell you again,” the woman said.
I considered firing in the general direction from which the voice came, but then I heard a plaintive whimper. The woman wasn’t alone, and if she had a hostage, I didn’t dare shoot.
You’d best drop it, Lugh advised. We want Abraham to think we’re helpless anyway.
I’d rather look helpless than be helpless, I quipped, but I knew he was right. Gritting my teeth against my reluctance, I dropped the Taser.
A match suddenly glowed in the darkness, and that little light seemed so blindingly bright that, for a moment, I still couldn’t see. Then, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I took in the scene around me.
I’d been thinking of this building as a warehouse, and had expected wide open spaces. What I got instead was a long, dark corridor punctuated at regular intervals by padlocked doors. At the far end of the corridor, one of the doors was open, and a figure lounged in the doorway.
It was a woman, no doubt Abraham’s current host, but I didn’t know her. Maybe about thirty years old, reasonably pretty, except for the feral flicker in her eyes. Or maybe that was just the reflected light of the candle she held—in the hand that wasn’t holding a gun, that is.
“Who the hell are you?” I demanded, as if I didn’t know.
“If you really have to ask, then my answer would be meaningless,” she responded.
There was another whimper, and Abraham’s mystery host glanced into the room behind the open door. She apparently liked what she saw, because she smiled as she turned back to me.
“Come on in,” she said. “See what I have planned for this evening’s entertainment. Move slowly, though. Sudden moves will have severe consequences. And stay where I can see you.”
My hands itching for the Taser, I started to walk toward her. She backed up as I approached, keeping a substantial distance between us while making sure neither one of us lost sight of the other. Sweat trickled down the small of my back, though I wasn’t particularly hot.
You want to take over now, Lugh? I asked.
Not yet. I want to leave you in control as long as possible. Maybe that will make you less sick in the aftermath.
I wasn’t holding my breath on that one, but since I preferred being in control anyway, I didn’t argue.
Slowly, I crept forward as Abraham backed up, until I was finally able to see what awaited me in the room beyond. I’m not sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t what I got.
Another woman I didn’t know lay on the floor at the opposite end of the room. Pixie-cut blond hair framed a heart-shaped face, which was streaked with runny mascara. She was the source of all the little whimpers, though she barely seemed to be conscious. I could see no obvious wounds, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t seriously hurt.
“Who is that?” I asked Abraham.
“That is Jessica Miles. You know, Jordan Maguire’s ex?”
I nodded to indicate that I recognized the name. “What is she doing here? And what’s wrong with her?”
I wasn’t entirely surprised that he ignored my questions. “Tell me, have you figured out why I’m unhappy with you yet?” He frowned theatrically. “You have figured out that I’m a demon, right?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That part’s pretty clear. And you’re pissed at me because Jordan Maguire didn’t burn.”
He nodded. Or should I say “she”? It was rather confusing. I decided since demons usually adopt their hosts’ names that I would think of my enemy as “she” for the time being.
“Very good. I had no idea whether you were smart enough to put the pieces together or not. How nice not to have to draw you a picture.”
I tried taking a cautious step closer, but her eyes narrowed, and her finger flexed on the trigger. I froze, and she smiled.
“To make a long story short,” she said, “Jessica here helped me frame my good friend Jordan for hitting her. She’s a wicked, wicked person. A murderer. And a stone-cold bitch.”
“None of that clarifies why she’s here.”
“Patience, patience. You’ve fucked up everything I’ve tried to do, and if I want to take my own sweet time explaining how the game will end, then it’s my prerogative.” She looked at me expectantly.
If she thought I’d argue, she had another think coming. I knew crazy when I saw it, and it was staring me right in the face. Reasoning with a crazy person seemed like more effort than it was worth. I made a zipping-my-mouth gesture and waited.
Her lips tugged downward in an almost petulant expression. Jessica took that moment to issue another whimper. She made what appeared to be a feeble attempt to get up, but she collapsed almost immediately.
Abraham smiled. “To answer your question about what’s wrong with our dear friend Jessica, she’s drugged to the gills. Frankly, I’m surprised she’s conscious. I thought I’d have to wake her up for the grand finale.”