twenty-seven
RAPHAEL STARTED THE FESTIVITIES AS SOON AS WE had my apartment door closed behind us. He grabbed Lugh’s arm, yanked him around, and got right up in his face.
“You are not dueling with Dougal!” he said, and though moments before he’d seemed cool and self-contained, his eyes now glowed and it looked for all the world like he was considering throwing a punch.
Lugh’s eyes glittered strangely as he glared at Raphael. Andy was taller than Tommy, so Lugh had to look up to meet his brother’s eyes, but that didn’t reduce his air of authority.
“Let go of my arm, Raphael,” he said. He hadn’t raised his voice even a little bit, but it was a command, not a request.
“And if I don’t?”
Lugh rolled his eyes. “Don’t be childish. This isn’t helping the situation.”
Raphael gave Lugh a little shove when he let go of his arm, but Lugh didn’t retaliate. “Do you understand how many people will suffer if you ride out on your white horse and get yourself killed?”
“Of course I do,” Lugh answered mildly. “That’s why I don’t plan to get myself killed. Now why don’t you all sit down? I’ll tell you what I have in mind, and then we can shuffle hosts again so that Andrew doesn’t have to put up with you any longer than necessary.”
“Shouldn’t we call in the rest of the council now?” Adam asked.
“I promised Andrew his sentence would be as brief as I could make it,” Lugh said, drawing a scowl from Raphael. “You can call the rest of the council members later and fill them in.”
“All right,” I said, “let’s hear this plan of yours that’s going to let you duel with Dougal without getting yourself killed.”
Lugh pulled over a dining room chair and sat on it. Maybe he thought the straight-backed chair was more dignified—or more like a throne—than the sofa or love seat.
“When the time comes for the duel, we will switch hosts once more so that I am in Tommy’s body. I believe Dougal won’t dare cheat, so my chances against him should be fairly even.” Raphael opened his mouth as if he was about to interject something scathing, but one look from Lugh shut him up. “If I win, then our problems are solved.”
I was pretty sure that was an overstatement. Dougal had sent an awful lot of his supporters through to the Mortal Plain already, including who knew how many criminals and at least one demon who was powerful enough to be part of the official royal council. A change in leadership in the Demon Realm would have no effect on the demons who were already here. But killing Dougal would be a nice first step.
“But I have a contingency plan for what to do if I lose,” Lugh continued, and I’d almost describe that little smile of his as smug. He looked at Adam. “When you go looking for a location, make sure there are woods nearby. On the day of the duel, you’ll go to those woods early and find yourself a secure hiding place up in the branches. If Dougal Tasers me, you shoot my host.”
We all started talking at once, but Lugh held up his hands for silence.
“Let me finish,” he said, and we all subsided. “Morgan, you’ll be stationed here, at your apartment. If I should fall, Adam will send you a signal on the phone, and you’ll immediately begin the summoning ceremony. I will give you my True Name. You’ll be able to get me back to the Mortal Plain before any of Dougal’s people can manage it. We’ll be set up to move faster, because we’ll be expecting it.
“The situation will, obviously, not be optimal. Whoever is with me for the duel may well be killed by Dougal and his people when they figure out what has happened.” He looked at Raphael. “And we would not have Tommy Brewster to move Raphael back into, so he would have to remain with Andrew, at least until another alternative appears. But I will not be dead, and Dougal will not have the power of the throne.”
There was a long, painful silence as everyone chewed that over. I had to admit, it sounded like a pretty good cheat. The worst-case scenario still sucked, but it was not the utter disaster that Lugh’s death would be. And it was unlikely we were going to find a better way to kill Dougal.
“Do you have any idea how many things can go wrong with this clever plan of yours?” Raphael asked. “What if Dougal’s people spot Adam? What if he can’t get a good shot? What if he does get a good shot, but it doesn’t kill Tommy? Remember, a superhost can take a bullet to the brain without dying. I’m not sure I know exactly what it would take to kill one.”
“With the right kind of rifle and ammo,” Adam said, “I can blow half his head away. I don’t think even Tommy can survive that.”
“Maybe not, but what if phone service hiccups? Or—”
“Calm down, Raphael,” Lugh said. “I’ll be the first one to admit we can’t make this foolproof. But if you think we’ll ever come up with a truly foolproof way to kill Dougal, you’re wrong. When the full council is here, we can discuss plans for each of the contingencies we can think of. But the basic plan is solid. You have to see that.”
Raphael scrubbed his hands over his face. “Jesus, Lugh,” he muttered from behind his hands. Then he huffed out a deep breath and let his hands fall away from his face. “I know the plan is a good one,” he said, every word spoken with great care and deliberation. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“No one has to like it,” Lugh responded. “But unless you have a better suggestion, this is the way it’s going to be. Understood?”
Raphael pursed his lips, but he nodded.
“Good. Now I shall return to Morgan, and you can call in the rest of the council to work out all the details.” He looked over at me and held out his hand.
I stared at that hand for a long moment. I’d have thought I’d feel reluctant to take Lugh back, that I’d have enjoyed my time alone inside my head. Instead, I felt a surge of eagerness. It scared me a little, made me wonder if I was a little bit like Jonathan, growing “addicted” to my demon.
But I took Lugh’s hand nonetheless. The moment our hands touched, the weird ache in my chest went away, and Tommy collapsed in a heap.
The next several hours were probably the longest argument I’d ever had the pleasure to participate in. As soon as Lugh was back in me, and Raphael was back in Tommy, I called Saul and Barbie and told them to come over for a council meeting. Then I called Brian. I probably should have explained over the phone what had happened this afternoon—it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to find out anyway when he got here—but I chickened out and just told him Lugh had called a meeting.
The guys had gotten started with the arguing while I was still on the phone, and the tension level rose another notch when Saul arrived. I managed to stay out of it for the most part, at least until Brian made his appearance.
The others were still too busy debating details—none too politely, I might add—so it was left to me to explain to Brian that I’d gone to face Dougal without telling him. We managed not to have a screaming fight about it in the middle of the council meeting, but only barely. I understood where he was coming from—I had a long, shameful history of withholding information from him, and I’d promised I wouldn’t do it anymore. But it wasn’t as if I’d had a choice, not with three demons siding against me.
We went to bed well after midnight, the council meeting having raged on into the wee hours. The good news was that we’d managed to come up with a number of backup plans to make sure I’d get the message if Lugh went down. The bad news was that the council had decided that rather than Adam being the one in ambush, it would be Saul.
Lugh felt it important that he not show up for the duel with only human supporters at his side, but he didn’t want anyone on the opposite side knowing the identities of Saul or Raphael, and anyone who was at the duel was sure to be examined and recognized. Cynical me, I wasn’t sure that Lugh wasn’t just making sure his family members were out of reach if things should go wrong and Dougal’s supporters should turn on the bystanders.
Saul had never fired a rifle, but Adam assured us that he could teach him how with minimal effort. There is no physical activity that demons aren’t better at than humans, and Adam guaranteed that even with his inexperience, Saul would hit anything he aimed at. But I still would have felt a hell of a lot more comfortable if Adam were the shooter.
After that, all we had to do was work out the time and place. Adam would begin searching for the perfect location tomorrow. Which meant that once again, all the rest of us could do was wait.
Brian and I were both too worn out to continue our earlier argument—thank God—but there was a chilly silence between us as we got ready for bed, and there was no affectionate cuddling. He was brooding, and I was just too damn tired to deal with it.