Chapter 25

Matt

"I need a goddamn computer," Dylan snaps. "Mother fucker ! I knew something wasn't right about that site. I knew it. But I had no reason to dig into it and other priorities… goddammit!" He stomps around the room, waving his arms in pure rage and frustration. "I should have done something. I should have looked , even if…" He trails off, then lets loose with a string of profanity that's so impressive, Ian whistles with admiration.

"I don't understand," Raum says, and while I'm not sure I like him, I have to agree.

"Walk us through it, Dyl," I suggest. I want to go to him and give him a reassuring hug—and kiss the fuck out of him, because he's so sexy when he's all riled up—but I'm still not trusting myself to do that. The doorframe actually cracked a little when I was holding it before.

Dylan stomps a few more times, then takes a deep breath. "We have web searches and crawlers set up," he explains. "They search for anything that might indicate demonic or demon-summoning activity. We get a lot of bullshit—a shocking number of romance novels, for one thing—but the system calculates probabilities, and we look at the ones most likely to be problems first, then go through the rest when we get the chance."

"So you've seen that website before?" Ian asks, and Dylan nods.

"Yes. They also advertise on several platforms, including Craigslist and Airtasker. I saw it… Jesus, I don't even remember. Over a year ago—maybe two. It had been flagged as really low priority, but I'd blocked out an hour that day to go through the ‘slush pile.'" He shrugs. "There was nothing I could see that warranted a proper investigation. The site's code is clean, and the business is registered and has been for decades. But there was something about it that bugged me, so I put it in my ‘when I have time' folder, just in case." Balling his fists, he says, "One of my team even sent me the Craigslist ad recently. He said the same thing I thought—it looked fine, but there was something ."

"Hunter instincts," I murmur. Shit. The online team probably isn't used to following them anymore, since so much of their jobs require logic and mathematical thinking. Those of us in the field tend to rely on our gut for pretty much everything.

"I should have paid more attention." Dylan continues verbally berating himself. "Every once in a while, I'll poke around in the code on the site, but without knowing what I'm looking for…" He makes a growling sound. "We have to go back to the compound. I need my computer and notes so I can have another look."

I start to stand, but Ian pulls a face. "We can't bring Raum back there. I could explain away Marc being there if anyone noticed, but even the whiff of another higher demon hanging around is going to raise questions. No offense," he tacks on belatedly, glancing at Raum.

"None taken. The truce is still new." He looks at Dylan. "Is there a way you could do what you need here? If you must go, you must, but I would prefer to be kept informed at all stages."

"Doesn't Marc have a computer?" I suggest. I'm mostly joking—no computer Marc has will compare to Dylan's setup—but surprisingly, Dyl looks like he might go for it.

"I only need to look at the code, at least initially," he says slowly. "I don't need heavy security for that. Do you have a computer?" he asks Marc.

Marc huffs. "Of course. This way."

We follow him out of the room and down the hall like ducklings, and just before we reach his wicked awesome theater room, he opens a door and gestures inside. "My study. You should find what you need in here."

Dylan goes first, but I'm right on his heels, eager to see what a demon's study looks like. So when Dyl stops short, I run into the back of him and send him staggering forward.

"Shit!" I grab him as gently as I can and steady him on his feet, then drop my hands. "Sorry."

He doesn't even appear to notice, too busy staring at the desk. "What is that?"

Behind us, Marc says, "That's my computer."

I follow Dylan's gaze and wince. Yeah. It's not ancient , but I'm guessing Marc bought it right after he moved here and hasn't bothered to upgrade. For Dylan, who builds his own computers and is constantly upgrading—not to mention bitching at me because I literally don't care how old my laptop is as long as it's still working—this is sacrilege.

"I guess you could call it that," he says, in full geek drama mode. He walks around the desk, hits the button to boot it up, and sits. Then looks up at Marc. "Where are the keyboard and mouse?"

Marc glances around. "Somewhere. Check the bottom drawer. If they're not there, I may have thrown them out."

"Why?" I can't resist asking, and I regret it when he turns his gaze on me.

"They weren't aesthetically pleasing, and I had no need of them."

I can hear Dylan grinding his teeth as he opens the desk drawer and—luckily—pulls out the keyboard and a corded mouse. There's another short delay when he has a hissy fit over Marc not using any password at all—apparently he used his demon whammy to bypass the operating system's requirement for one—and then he gasps. "When was the last time you updated the operating system?"

Shrugging, Marc says, "Never. Sometimes things will try to update, but they annoy me, so I refuse to allow it."

"Maybe we should wait in the hallway," Ian says hastily as Dylan's face turns red. "Or… anywhere but here."

"I would like to stay," Raum says, clearly bewildered. "This computer is fascinating. It doesn't evolve on its own?"

"It doesn't evolve, but it would update if someone didn't fuck with it," Dylan grumbles. "I can't work with this. The OS is so old, it's going to need a couple hours just to update. It'll be faster to go back to the compound and get my computer and bring it here."

Marc looks offended. "It's perfectly suitable for my needs," he declares stiffly.

"Dylan's needs are more complicated," Ian assures him, patting his chest—then snatching his hand back and shooting Raum a horrified glance. I guess they're keeping their relationship a secret from Marc's people, too.

Raum shakes his head. "Don't panic. I can see you're bonded."

That's a weird way to say it, but I guess he's not used to talking to humans. I still hate that Marc knew about me and Dylan just from seeing us together.

Speaking of Dylan… "Okay, so we go back and get your stuff," I offer.

"No." Ian's voice is firm. "All of us leaving the compound right after you arrived can be explained by going out to dinner. If someone sees you packing Dylan's computer into the car right after you un packed it, they're going to know something's up."

"So you're saying I have to wait for this dinosaur to update and then hope it can actually do what I need it to?" Dylan folds his arms and glares at Ian. "We're wasting time."

Marc clears his throat. "If I may…?"

It takes me a second to realize what he means, and then I look at my boyfriend. It's his stuff that'll get teleported, after all.

Dylan doesn't seem impressed. His mouth tightens, but then he sighs. "Do not damage a single component, do you understand?"

"Why must you humans constantly insult me?"

I blink. Where Marc's computer was sitting just now is Dylan's full setup, exactly how it looked when he arranged it all at the house. All he has to do is plug it in.

If it turns out I'm a demon now, will I be able to do shit like that? Because there has to be some upside to it.

Also, how the fuck am I going to get Marc alone to ask him?

While I'm still trying to think of an answer to that dilemma, Dylan gets himself into gear and is soon tapping away, doing his thing. Raum rounds the desk to stand behind him, staring over his shoulder.

"Remarkable," he murmurs. "That you require so much effort to achieve even the simplest things."

Dylan's fingers stop moving, and he slowly turns to look up at the demon. "Why don't you wait outside? I'll call you all in when I have something."

Raum seems like he's about to argue, but Ian chirps in with "Great idea! We can order dinner. Raum, how do you feel about Indian food?"

"I'm not certain if I've ever had it," he admits. "I rarely come to Earth."

"Great! Tonight will be a new culinary experience for you then!" My bestie's smile is a little manic as he herds the demons out into the hallway. I cast a glance toward Dylan, whose focus is once again on his screen and keyboard, and say, "Yell if you need me" before following them.

Ian's leading Raum toward the kitchen, and I seize the opportunity to grab Marc's arm—then let it go when he looks at my hand like it might be radioactive. "I need to talk to you," I hiss.

"Are you certain?"

Am I— "Of course I'm fucking certain !" Jesus Christ, how does Ian put up with this guy? "We have to be quick, because nobody can know about this."

His brows draw together. "Oh?"

"Did you turn me into a demon?"

It's the first time I've ever seen Marc truly flustered. His jaw actually drops. "I beg your pardon?"

"Since you did your thing and healed me, I've got superpowers or something. Did you turn me into a demon? I'm not accusing you of doing it on purpose," I add. I need him on my side right now. "But if you did, accidentally, I need to know."

"Nothing I do is accidental, Matthias. But no, I did not … I won't even say it. The idea is too ridiculous for words."

I eye him. If he's telling the truth—and I think he is—then that means I'm either in a coma or have head trauma. Or I'm in a coma and coma-dream Marc is lying. But then, that would make me a demon in a coma, and while I'm in the coma Dylan won't leave me because he doesn't know I'm a demon. But because I'm in the coma, we're not really together anyway… except within the coma itself.

And I still don't know if I'm in a coma or if I need to seek medical attention.

"Did you say you think you have superpowers?" Marc asks. "What makes you think that?"

I heave a sigh, my shoulders drooping, and lean against the wall. "I don't think it, I know it. I can hear sounds I shouldn't be able to, and smell things… and I'm a lot stronger now. Like, I know you said you healed me back to how I was before the beating, but I'm in even better shape than then and I can deadlift twice my body weight without even trying."

Marc's eyes narrow. "Hmm. I did notice in San Francisco that you were behaving oddly. But… why would you think you'd been turned into a demon? That's not even possible," he scoffs.

Since he's my best bet at answers, I ignore the disrespect. "I was working with three scenarios: You'd turned me into a demon; I have head trauma and am imagining the superpowers; and I'm actually in a coma right now and none of this is real."

He rolls his eyes. "You're not a demon. I'm offended that you believe I would miss something as obvious as head trauma when I healed you. And you are not in a coma."

"That's what someone who was in my coma dream would say," I argue, but he ignores me.

"May I offer a fourth option?"

I flip a hand, expecting him to say something mean about humans.

"You've evolved ahead of your time."