Chapter 10

"You're not going to school today," Lisa said to Ben as he stumbled down the stairs in the morning. She was standing in the hall with a cup of coffee in her hand, staring at the burned spot on the carpet.

Ben stared at her as he reached the last step. "What are we going to do? We can't just hide in here."

"I know." Lisa took an absent-minded sip from the mug, then set it down. "But I need to talk to Father Andrews, and I'm not ready to let you out of my sight, so you're coming with me."

Ben gave her a long look, then shrugged. "Okay," he said.

The streets were still fairly empty in the early morning light as Lisa drove downtown with Ben riding shotgun. As usual, the street in front of the priest's house was deserted, and Lisa parked the car and went inside without knocking.

She glanced around the hall. "Ben, wait down here for me," she said quietly. "I want to talk to him alone." Without waiting for a reply, she ran up the stairs. "Father Andrews?" she called. "Are you here?"

"In my office." His voice was mildly surprised, and he looked up from a huge book on the desk as Lisa came in. "What's wrong?" He wore glasses for the fine print, but he took them off and laid them aside when he saw her face.

"My best friend came to my house last night," Lisa said. "She was possessed."

The priest's eyebrows rose. "What happened? Where's your son?"

"Oh, Ben's downstairs. He's fine." Lisa did not sit down; she stood just inside the doorway, her voice tight and angry. "We exorcised her."

"Did she live?" He was annoyingly calm, as if possession was an everyday occurrence for him. Then again, Lisa reflected, it probably was.

"Yes, she lived. She probably won't ever speak to me again, but she's alive."

He smiled then, leaning his chair back. "I'm impressed. You must really have some natural skill as a hunter."

"Don't say that," Lisa told him sharply. "I'm not here for praise. I want to know what you know about Crowley."

Father Andrews' hand tightened on the arm of his chair for a second. "You were kidnapped under orders from Crowley," he said. "But that was years ago. With the things that have happened since then, I really wasn't sure whether he was still the King of Hell."

"Well, apparently he is," Lisa snapped. She took a step closer. "The demon that was in Kim—it's been watching me for years, ever since the accident. Under his orders."

"Really?" Father Andrews pondered this information for a moment. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he said finally, steepling his fingers together. "Crowley's not one to give up advantages, at least from what I've heard. You're a pawn to him, in whatever game he happens to be playing."

"I don't want to be a pawn," Lisa said furiously, her hands clenched at her sides. "I don't want my son to be a pawn. I've been watched all this time, always in danger, and I never knew. I thought we were safe…" she took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice from breaking, but it spite of herself it began to shake. "We've never been safe. Not since I met Dean."

"There's no changing that now." Father Andrews got up, came around the desk, and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Listen to me. Do you think you're the only one who's ever been a pawn for Hell? There's hundreds, thousands, maybe, of people out there with a demon on their shoulder. They don't know it, and they live their lives comfortably, never seeing the danger until it rips their lives apart. Lisa, you and your son see the danger. That—in this world—can be a great advantage."

"My son will never be safe," Lisa said. She stared at Father Andrews. "He can never have a normal life, and it's my fault."

"You've got to stop blaming yourself." The priest shook her slightly. "It's not good for you or for him."

He was right. Lisa swallowed hard, and her jaw stiffened. "Let me guess. Crowley's going to send another demon to take the place of the one I just sent to Hell."

"Probably. Did the demon threaten you?"

"No, actually." Lisa thought back to last night's events. "Apparently it was just…watching. It had been possessing a guy in my yoga class: that lawyer who stabbed himself to death. It was on the news. And then I guess it possessed Kim, and when she touched my iron railing, I saw those black eyes." She shivered. "But no, I don't think it was there to hurt us. At least not then."

"That's good. If Crowley had wanted to hurt you, he could have done it at any time. Of course, now that you've exposed his surveillance, his plans could change. I don't want to scare you, but you have to know what to expect."

"So that's it? He'll just keep on sending demons, either to watch us or hurt us?" Lisa's eyes flashed. She was afraid, but she was also angry: ice and fire alternated in her blood. "No. I'm not going to accept that. I'm not going to let that happen to Ben."

"What are you going to do?" He asked the question quietly and simply.

Lisa shook her head grimly. "I'm going to do something that I promised myself I would never do. I'm going to find Dean."

There. She had said it, and now that the words had been spoken, she realized how inevitable it had been. She'd known since last night, really: since she'd realized that Crowley was watching their every move, able at any moment to hurt her friends and family or wipe her and Ben off the face of the earth.

"There's only two people I know who have fought Hell and won," she said aloud, and she met Father Andrews' eyes. "Where else can I go for help?"

Understanding and sympathy glimmered in the priest's eyes, but he sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "You realize that they may be dead? You haven't had contact with them in years."

"Maybe," Lisa said. "But if they're still alive, I'm going to find them. Will you help me?"

He half-smiled. "I have some contacts—hunters, mediums, psychics. I'll put out the word, and we'll see what we come up with. It may take a while. In the meantime, I suggest that you and Ben quietly drop off the radar, so to speak, and take a little vacation with some friends of mine. I'll give you some wards against demons that may keep the hounds at bay temporarily."

Lisa rubbed one hand across her face, her shoulders slumping. "It's so hard to accept, you know. Losing everything you thought you had. I don't know how I'm going to tell Ben. I mean, he's got friends, he's got school…"

"Oh, he's been standing behind you for the last fifteen minutes," Father Andrew said cheerfully, and Lisa turned around.

"It's okay, Mom." Ben smiled at her; his shoulders were very straight, and he looked so tall. He reached out and patted her arm. "I could use a vacation."

"Oh, you're going to keep up with your schoolwork, believe me." Lisa narrowed her eyes. "Don't be getting any ideas."

"I'm going to make some calls." Father Andrews lifted the phone. "Why don't you go home, pack whatever's important to you, and come back as soon as you've finished?"

"All right." Ben went to the stairs. "Come on, Mom," he called, and Lisa heard his feet rattling down the steps.

She turned uncertainly in the doorway. "Am I doing the right thing?" she said in a low voice. "I just…I just want to be sure."

The priest, already holding the phone to his ear, met her eyes across the desk. "You can't be sure. Sometimes all you can do is pick one option out of a lot of really bad options."

"Well, that's comforting." Lisa shook her head with a rueful smile. "See you this afternoon."

"Good. Be careful." He waved to her as she went out. "Nicholas?" she heard him say. "Listen, I've got a couple of questions..."

At home, Ben ran up to his room to pack. "Take a lot of clothes," Lisa called after him. "We may not be coming back for a while."

Or ever.

That thought nagged at her, but she pushed it out of her mind. She went to her bedroom and pulled out a suitcase, automatically packing the things she might need.

In the back of one of her dresser drawers her hand brushed against something silky, and she pulled it out. It was a sheer black negligee, with delicate lace along the shoulder straps and a tiny pink rosebud tucked into the bodice.

Dean had given it to her. She blinked, remembering. She hadn't even seen this thing in years, but the memories came back: the teasing but gentle smile on his face, the light in his eyes as he lay on her bed and watched her move across the room.

He had always been in so much pain, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. She would have done anything he wanted, worn anything he liked, to see that pain lift for a second. She wondered how he was now, whether he still carried that burden, whether his eyes were still haunted by the things he had seen and done.

Her suitcase lay open on the bed; she tucked the negligee into a corner of it.