his hard, furry head, purring softly.
There’d been a lot of possible ways for that meeting to end, once demons were in the mix. Whatever he’d had to do, going home safely, with Darien and Grim beside him, was all he would’ve asked for.
Chapter 14
Darien woke to a bop on the nose from something indescribable. He sat up in bed, flailing, and whacked a loaf of bread still in its wrapper to the floor. Sharp claws dug through the blankets to prick his knee.
“That’s the thanks I get for bringing you breakfast?” Grim sat on Darien’s legs, a heavier weight than any cat should be, and glared at him.
Beside Darien, Silas snuffled, and opened his eyes, dragging himself up sitting and stuffing a pillow behind his back. “Bread? For us? Grim, you shouldn’t have.”
Grim snorted. “I didn’t want you two dying of hunger. I’m reminded there are worse masters.”
The events of the night before came cascading back and Darien fisted the sheets, holding tight as dizziness rocked him. “That… happened?”
“It did.” Silas reached over the side of the bed for the bread. “In fact, food’s a good idea.” He unwrapped it and held out a slice. “Eat something.”
Darien took it and stuffed his mouth full, because chewing was easier than talking right now. The first swallow made his hunger roar up with a vengeance and he shoved the rest in and reached for another slice.
Silas took slow bites of his.
Grim said, “Well, that was an exciting night. I told you Burns was slimy.”
“It wasn’t news.” Silas sighed. “Ferngold offered me Burns’s place on the council.”
Around more bread, Darien said, “That’s what the phone call was last night?” They’d arrived home, ready to collapse into bed, and then Silas had been called away by the ringing of the phone. After a few minutes he’d told Darien to go up and lie down, not wait for him. Darien had climbed the stairs, peed, stripped to his shorts, and been out like a light, didn’t even remember Silas coming to bed.
Silas nodded. “Among other things. Yes. They had a long interview with poor Norry under a truth spell.”
“Poor Norry? He trapped you, almost got you killed.”
Silas shot him a hard look. “Being puppeted is one of the worst experiences there is. Some people’s minds don’t come back from it. Imagine if that boat ghost had the power to move your limbs and control your words.”
Darien shuddered at the image. “Yeah, okay. What did they learn?”
“Apparently once Burns had Norry puppet-controlled, he wasn’t careful about what he revealed. He’d been under Crosby’s influence for a long time. Crosby had promised him a demon of his own to use. Of course, Burns thought Crosby was controlling his demon and using it, when in fact it was the other way around. That demon in the bottle was his reward, waiting, if he helped Crosby enough.”
“Some reward.”
“He thought it would be a slave, a power source. When I destroyed Crosby, Burns managed to convince Ferngold that he and Norry should be the ones to check the house. What he wanted was the bottle and its passenger. He was impatient, opened it with the containment spell Crosby had given him. Except it was the spell Crosby’s demon had given him.”
“Shit. So it didn’t stop the demon.”
“No. And if they’d hidden and worked on integrating and scheming, we’d have been in trouble again. But Burns was furious and scared that I’d managed to beat his hero and a demon that powerful, and his demon was caught by that same fear. He wanted me silenced, and didn’t want me to have a chance to give Worthington any secrets I might’ve come up with.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t just blow up your car or something.” Darien shivered, realizing how close it’d been. They could have killed him a hundred ways, a bullet, a knife, a fatal crash. He reached out and grabbed Silas’s hand before realizing it.
Silas didn’t make fun of him, just squeezed back hard, before letting go. “If they’d had more time, I’m sure they might’ve tied something. Not explosives, but something. But they only finished with the house right before the meeting. And Burns didn’t want to expose himself or Norgaard by attacking me directly. He thought if he could accuse me of something bad enough to make Fernwood press home about spelling my mind, I’d fight back— which is only true. If he could convince them to force me, I’d be damaged or destroyed without it seeming to be