Pandemonium

He shook his head in disgust, but then he turned and went back to the counter. I sat down on one of the red plastic chairs and rested my arms on my knees. I could feel every pulse in my hands.

“He’s worried about you,” Amra said, after a while. “We’re both worried. This is not just about getting drunk, is it?”

“Nope.”

“This sounds like possession, Del.”

“Yep.” I couldn’t look up. The thing in my head was dormant; whether it was because it was worn down by the night’s exertions or masked by the hangover, I couldn’t tell. I wanted to lie down on the dusty linoleum, because it looked smooth and cool. Lew walked back. “They say they don’t have anything of yours besides what you had in your pockets.”

“Fuck,” I said.

“Come on, I’ll loan you some clothes when we get to my house.”

He was already half out the door.

“We have to go back to the Hyatt,” I said.

Lew, outlined in harsh sunlight, stopped, sighed, then slowly shook his head again, signaling a new level of disgust. I wished he would stop doing that.

“On the way there,” I said, “I’ll tell you everything.”

I told them everything. Almost everything. Something, anyway.

“And that’s what happened last night?” Lew said. “This wolfing out thing?”

Lew was driving again, but I was too nauseous to sit in the back, so Amra had let me take the front passenger seat. I spent most of the drive with the side of my head pressed to the cool window.

“I must have passed out before I got back to my room,” I said. “Or I got back to my room and couldn’t get the restraints on. Either way, I lost control.” Lost it completely. It wasn’t just property damage this time. I’d beaten up security guards.

Amra said, “And you’re sure that this demon is the Hellion, the same one who possessed you when you were a kid?”

“I think so. I don’t know.”

But I did know. It had always been in there, sleeping, even when I couldn’t feel it. The car accident had merely woken it up.

“You said it was just noises,” Lew said. “You said it was no big deal—this Dr. Ram guy was just going to help you with the noises. You didn’t say anything about surgery, or exorcism, or any of that shit.”

“I know.”

“So you’re Mister Big Fat Liar Pants.”

“Basically.”

And there was more. I told them about getting turned down by Dr. Ram and going out drinking, but I didn’t mention meeting Valis, throwing a drink in the fake Piper’s face, or the rest of the night’s wanderings. Not because I was embarrassed, but because I didn’t have the energy.

The Audi’s tiny dashboard clock said that it was almost 10 a.m. The street in front of the Hyatt was clear of pedestrian protesters; evidently even Rapturists had to go to their real jobs on Monday. The DemoniConners were probably sleeping off hangovers. Lew parked under the glass canopy protecting the entrance and turned on his flashers. He glanced at Amra, then looked at me. “You want me to go in with you?”

“No, I’ll be right back.” Lew’s cell had rung three times during the drive, and it had pained him to ignore the calls. Lew was the Man now, and for all I knew, Amra was the Man too. The fact that both of them had taken off work to bail me out heightened my humiliation. Gourmet shame.

“I’ll go in,” Amra said. She climbed out of the backseat. “It’s pretty cramped back there. Lew, give him your jacket.”

Ah: the bloody shirt. I slid my huge mummy hands through the sleeves of the golf jacket, gritting in pain as I forced them through the narrow wrists, and Amra zipped me.

We went arm in arm to the front desk. Three clerks were huddled in the doorway to the back office, their blue-uniformed backs to us, talking to someone deeper inside the office. Their words were too low to hear, but the conversation seemed intense. I stood for a full minute waiting for them to notice us. I kept my