Devilishly Sexy (26 page)

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Authors: Kathy Love

BOOK: Devilishly Sexy
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Then he noticed what looked like a speaker near the window and a switch along the bottom of it. He carefully approached the window and flicked it; suddenly he could hear her. Her strangled sobs.
“No,” she whispered amid her tears. “No, Michael would not let that happen.”
Michael moved to the wall where she wouldn’t see him if she lifted her head. He wanted to listen without her being aware that he was there.
“Shut up,” she pleaded, her voice cracking with dismay and actual fear. “I don’t care if he’s a slayer, he won’t kill me. He won’t.”
Michael’s heart sank in his chest as he realized the demon was telling her what slayers did to the possessed. And the demon was telling the truth. Or at least what used to be the truth.
“Michael loves me.”
He listened to her fight. Her desperate fight not only with the demon, but her fight to believe her own words. He closed his eyes, wondering again, could this just be a ploy by the demon to make him let down his guard? But he could feel Liza reaching out to him. He could feel her love. A love that was wavering with her fear, but a love that was still there. They were still connected.
He stepped out from his place against the wall, and lightly tapped the window. Almost as if she didn’t quite dare, as if she was afraid of what she might see, she slowly lifted her head, swiping her disheveled hair away from her pale, tear-streaked face.
“Liza,” he said and placed a hand on the glass. She hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure she could trust him. But then she slowly uncurled herself and walked toward the window, her expression that of a scared animal. She paused just on the other side of the glass, and then tentatively she placed her hand up to his.
“Everything is going to be okay,” he said loudly, not sure if she could hear him.
She frowned, focusing on his lips.
“You will be okay,” he repeated louder, and this time she nodded, giving him a small, tremulous smile.
He didn’t know if what he was telling her was true, but he needed to offer her some reassurance. Some comfort.
“He’s telling me all sorts of awful things,” she said, her own wording slow and loud because she didn’t realize he could hear her. “He’s telling me that he can’t be exorcised from me. That the only way to get rid of him is to get rid of me.”
Michael didn’t need any more clarification of what the demon was saying to her, he already knew. This demon wasn’t holding back. He was panicked too and playing hard ball.
Michael shook his head adamantly, determined to make her believe she would be all right even if he didn’t quite believe it himself.
“You will be fine,” he said loudly.
She nodded, her blue-green eyes pleading again, desperate.
“He says you don’t really believe that. He says you have killed plenty of possessed people just to kill the demon within them.”
Michael felt sick to his stomach, not knowing how to handle this. He didn’t want to lie to her. In truth, he didn’t know what the DIA would do with her now to fix this. But he couldn’t try to explain his past through a wall of glass.
“He’s lying,” he said, trying to reassure her. “He’s trying to scare you.”
She nodded to let him know she understood his words, but then she paused as if she was listening. To that evil being inside her, filling her with more fear and doubts.
“He says you are the one lying. He knows you are, because he knows you.”
He frowned, shaking his head. What demon would know him?
Was it a demon who’d heard of him? That must be it, because there was only one demon who had ever escaped him.
Suddenly his blood went cold.
“He says to tell you that the demon inside me is named Bartoris.”
Bartoris.
Chapter Thirty-one
“S
o what you are telling me is that you’ve never heard of Michael Archer?”
The man named Eugene, whom Tristan had never seen before in his life and whom he disliked instantly, shook his head. “No, I can go through my employment records for you again if you would like, but I don’t see anyone by that name. In fact, I didn’t see a single Archer, period.”
“So how do you think this man got a mailroom smock, a mail cart, and an identification badge?”
Eugene again shook his head. “I don’t think it would be too hard to obtain either the smock or the cart. They are readily available anywhere down here. As far as the ID, I’m sure in this day and age of computers and high-end printers, our badges could be forged. Not a comforting thought, that’s for sure.”
Tristan really didn’t like this guy. He had an answer for everything—well, except for how and why Michael Archer had been here. And he had been. There was no doubt about that.
“One of our employees, one of the
HOT!
editors actually, admitted to dating this man, so he was around for some time. I can’t believe none of your employees saw him or spoke to him.”
“Perhaps they did, but just assumed he was a new guy or something. I do know that I never saw him down here, so maybe he was focused on the magazine itself.”
Tristan studied Eugene, the mailroom manager, for a few moments. He hated to admit that the man’s suggestions made sense. After all, why would a demon slayer want to hang out down here? No self-respecting demon would be caught dead in the mailroom. Michael Archer had just needed an easy way to get up onto the fifteenth floor.
Still, Tristan didn’t like how easily Eugene was explaining away all of his questions and concerns.
“I suppose you are right, but I think I should talk to some of your staff anyway. Ms. White would want me to be thorough.”
“Of course,” Eugene agreed readily—just as Tristan had known he would. A man who had nothing to hide. Tristan never trusted men like that. “Just let me know if I can help you in any way.”
Tristan rose from the folding metal chair that served as the mailroom manager’s office furniture and exited the square of plyboard walls that served as his office.
Again, Tristan couldn’t imagine a demon slayer really hanging out down here, even if he was just biding his time while waiting to get up to the
HOT!
offices where the demons dwelled. But he wanted to be totally sure.
After all, now Satan was involved, and Finola was going to be livid that he was, so Tristan needed to prove he’d followed every lead he could.
Tristan walked into the mailroom proper, rather amazed that this department was so large. It seemed excessively big, really. But then again, what did he know about mailrooms?
“What do I want to know about mailrooms?” he muttered to himself as he regarded all the odd-looking people and machines around him.
Still he stayed focused, talking to the least offensive-looking of the employees. Perhaps not the best way to get information, but better than Finola’s approach would be. She wouldn’t even set foot in a place like this. Concrete floor, drab gray walls, and strange people. It was an aesthetic mess down here.
Tristan didn’t discover anything new about Michael Archer. His only hope was that the man would return, not realizing Tristan was onto him.
His other option was to follow Liza McLane. She might lead him right to the demon slayer.
All Tristan knew, even as he left the mailroom with no more information than when he’d entered, was that he would discover something, and that would be enough to make Satan realize he was the one who should be in charge of
HOT!
and the demon rebellion.
 
Michael told Liza to stay right near the glass and to ignore the demon—Bartoris—as much as she could. He told her he would be right back. That he wasn’t leaving her.
She nodded, trying to look confident, but he could tell she was afraid. Afraid he would disappear again. And he couldn’t very well blame her, if his previous reaction had been any indication. But in this case, he was leaving to get help. To get someone who understood what the DIA did with the possessed now.
He hurried down the hallway back toward the elevators. There was a lobby area and a receptionist of sorts there.
“I was told if the woman being held back there got upset or was at risk, I should contact Eugene.”
The woman, who was not only the receptionist, but could double for a female gladiator, bobbed her head, then reached for the phone. She pressed a series of numbers and waited.
“He’s not answering,” she finally said in a voice that reminded him of a cat. Husky but silky and strangely out of place.
“Could you try again?”
“If he’s available, he always answers.”
“Can you call Gabriel?”
The woman nodded as if she found his question a little ridiculous. She picked up the phone and pressed another sequence of numbers.
The woman spoke in her odd purring voice, telling Gabriel that he was needed down below, which Michael guessed was code for where they were.
She made a few more clipped, cryptic comments, then hung up.
“He will be right with you.”
“Send him down to the room where—” He couldn’t bring himself to call Liza “the possessed.” “Down to the rooms where we have the woman.”
The receptionist/pro-wrestler nodded, then busied herself with something on her computer as if he’d never been there.
When Michael rushed back into the holding cell, he found Liza right where he’d left her.
He immediately went back to the glass and placed his palm against it. She did the same, her small hand disappearing behind his.
They stayed that way for a moment, until he noticed her wincing again. Bartoris was talking to her, that evil bastard.
He couldn’t imagine anything worse than the woman he loved being possessed by the demon who’d cursed him. It was more than a coincidence. It was fate.
This time, he swore, the demon wouldn’t walk away from Michael’s sword. But he had to believe the DIA could exorcise him first and leave Liza unscathed.
He had to believe that.
“Michael?”
He turned from the glass to find Gabriel in the doorway, a stunned look on his face. His gaze flicked from Michael’s hand to Liza’s, and then an almost relieved look softened his features.
“What’s going on?”
“We have to do the exorcism, or whatever they do now, as soon as possible,” Michael told him. “It’s Bartoris inside her.”
Gabriel didn’t react for a moment, although that softness left his features. “What are the chances?”
“I know,” Michael agreed. “This is fate.”
Gabriel didn’t argue.
“I can call the team down to handle this,” Gabriel told him, moving to pull out his cell phone.
Damn, Michael thought, he kept forgetting he had one of those too. He hadn’t even needed to leave Liza, had he? He could have called Gabriel directly.
He listened as Gabriel instructed the exorcism team to assemble.
“We will save her,” Gabriel assured him.
Michael nodded, again having to believe his beloved would be safe and untouched by Bartoris’s evil.
Within minutes, the room was filled with a group of people who, in Michael’s opinion, looked like a yuppie dinner party.
“Where is the priest?” Michael asked, frowning as a man passed him in a button-down shirt and argyle vest.
“We’ve discovered that religion isn’t a necessary factor in an exorcism. We’ve learned that good Samaritans work just as well and are easier to find. Not to mention, they work for cheap. They are good Samaritans after all.”
Michael frowned, not sure this whole twist on exorcism was making him feel that confident, especially when he already had his doubts.
But he knew they had to move on this. He looked over at Liza. Her face was strained and her eyes scrunched closed. Bartoris was torturing her. And Michael had seen other possessed humans crack under the constant talking and pressure of a demon.
Liza needed to be free. She needed to be his.
“We’re going to send seven people in with her. One person of pure virtue for each of the deadly sins. Another trick we’ve learned,” Gabriel explained. “Demons always embody one of the sins.”
Michael nodded, praying this worked. He had to admit, Gabriel’s explanation made sense. Finola embodied greed. And he suspected Bartoris’s sin was envy.
Michael watched as the team entered Liza’s chamber. She cast him an unsure look, scared by the sudden appearance of the others.
“I want to be with her,” Michael said, heading toward the door. But Gabriel caught his shoulder as he passed.
“You can’t go in there unless you truly believe. It is necessary if the exorcism is to work correctly.”
Michael frowned. “But faith has always played a huge role in exorcisms. We’ve known that for centuries.”
Gabriel nodded, but then said, “Faith is good and powerful. But what I’m talking about is belief. Belief in the goodness of the person you are exorcising. Belief that the people surrounding her can save her, and belief that we can contain and help the demon who leaves her.”
Michael was totally on board until Gabriel’s last request. How could a creature like Bartoris be contained and helped? Okay, he knew he could be contained, but helped? How? Michael was willing to believe the possessed could be truly saved. Hell, he needed to trust that fact, but demons were evil through and through. What could be reformed inside them?
He glanced back to the other room. The good Samaritans were leading Liza away. She kept looking over her shoulder toward Michael. His bonded mate needed him and frankly he’d probably have said anything to be able to go to her.
“I believe,” he said to Gabriel, who didn’t react right away.
“I believe,” Michael repeated, more adamantly.
Gabriel hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “Go to her.”
Michael was out the door even before Gabriel finished speaking. He went to the other door and knocked. One of the team opened the door a crack.
“I’m her mate,” Michael said, then wondered if this person would even understand. To his surprise the young man on the other side of the door bobbed his head slightly, then swung the door open just enough to allow Michael inside.
“Michael,” Liza cried as soon as she saw him moving toward her, his motions still hesitant and unsure. He knew he needed to be certain. Gabriel said he had to believe, and he did. All but that last part. Doubts still niggled about Bartoris, and the fact he could be helped once he was out of Liza’s body.
But Liza looked at him pleadingly, her blue-green eyes glistening with tears and fear. The team had placed her onto a long rectangle, boardroom-type table like it was an operating table. She twisted her head to watch only him as he came to her.
“Michael,” she repeated as if focusing on him was the only thing keeping her calm. Maybe it was.
“I’m here,” he assured her, stepping up to the table and clasping her hand in one of his, while the other touched her face, brushing the tangle of messy hair from her cheeks and forehead.
“I’m scared,” she whispered, but he could already tell she was much calmer than she’d been while he was in the other room.
“Just focus on getting this bastard out of you.”
She studied him for a moment, then nodded. She tried to relax against the hard tabletop, her eyes closed, and one of the team members, a woman who looked more like a schoolteacher than an exorcist, told everyone to lay their hands on Liza.
The woman began to repeat simple things like “Leave.” “Be gone.” “You are not wanted, or able to stay in this good, kind, sweet woman.”
The rest of the table repeated whatever she said, and Michael had no trouble going along with these words. They were how he felt too. Bartoris needed to be out of Liza.
But the more they talked and demanded, the more agitated Liza became. Her head twisted from side to side. Her limbs twitched.
“Liza, please, let him go. Let this demon exit you,” he murmured to her, his hand still stroking her hair.
Suddenly her face jerked toward him, her head off the table.
“You don’t believe,” she hissed.
“I do,” he told her. “I do.”
She laughed then and Michael knew he wasn’t talking to Liza. Bartoris wasn’t just stuck inside her, taunting and teasing her. He was the one smiling up at Michael.
“Michael,” the demon said in a distorted version of Liza’s pretty voice. This voice wasn’t pretty. “I thought I got rid of you.”
“Obviously not,” Michael stated. “You just slowed me down a little, but I’m here. And you are here. It would seem this is my time to finish what I started.”

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