Free The Devil Inside by Jenna Black

your That was all he wrote. All I wrote. Whatever.
    I guess if I really was possessed by a demon, I’d managed to fight him off in the middle of his letter.
    I shivered. All well and good to tell myself it was impossible to be possessed and not know it, but this seemed a pretty elaborate fantasy for my subconscious to dream up.
    I mean, where did I get the name Lugh from? It’s not a name I’d ever heard of before. It sounded masculine, and I was thinking of this demon as a “he.” Which was just a little extra evidence that this was all my imagination. If I really was possessed, the demon should have been female. Not that it was impossible for a demon to possess a human of the opposite sex—it was just that they usually didn’t want to. Of course, my imaginary demon claimed he was forced to possess me against his will, so perhaps his preferences meant nothing.
    But no, I was being paranoid. This was a reaction to my last conversation with Andrew/Raphael. I was still pissed at him for hitting me, so I’d concocted a plot right out of some B-movie Hollywood horror script. Yeah, that was it.
    Unfortunately, I wasn’t doing such a great job of convincing myself. I didn’t destroy this letter, instead taking it with me into the kitchen and rereading it umpteen million times while I drank my coffee. I’d honestly never heard of a human being whose personality was strong enough to make the demon, rather than the host, the helpless passenger. But just because I’d never heard of it didn’t mean it was impossible. Wondering about the name I’d made up for my imaginary demon, I 47 / 226
    Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)
    Morgan Kingsley #1
    looked it up on the Internet. I hoped I’d find it was some kind of nonsense word. Unfortunately, I discovered it was a real name from Celtic mythology that roughly translates to “shining one.”
    By the time I’d finished my third cup of coffee, I decided I needed a second opinion. Val had looked at my aura in Topeka and declared me clean, but it wouldn’t hurt to have her look again. And if she saw no sign of demon invasion, then maybe I could put this nagging fear to rest. If not, I might have to bite the bullet and see a shrink, like Brian had suggested. Not an option I wanted to contemplate. Val lives in a narrow, three-story town house on Delancy Street. The place always makes me feel outclassed. My house is nicely decorated and all, but Val’s is a freakin’ work of art. Everything’s color-coordinated, and I’d never seen a place where a person actually lived that was so meticulously neat and clean.
    She led me into her living room, sat me down on her spotless creamcolored couch—you tell me, how do you keep a cream-colored couch spotless if you actually sit on it?—and I spilled my guts.
    “I know this is crazy,” I told her before I started. I could see her momentarily struggle not to smile, then give up the effort. “When is it not crazy when you’re involved?”
    I laughed at her quip, but even I could hear the nervousness. Val’s brows drew together, the humor instantly chased away, replaced by a look of concern.
    “What’s the matter, Morgan?” she asked. “You look seriously spooked.”
    I ran a hand through my hair. “That’s because I am.” I huffed out a deep breath. “You know how I told you I’ve been sleepwalking lately?” She nodded. “Well, I’ve been writing notes to myself in my sleep.”
    Her eyebrows arched. “Wow. You mean, like, notes that actually make sense?”
    “Depends on what you mean by sense,” I muttered under my breath.
    “The first one was in Topeka. I wrote a note saying that the demon didn’t take me because I was already possessed.”
    Val laughed at that. “That’s what’s got you spooked?” she asked. “I think you can relax. Aside from the fact that you don’t act like a demon, I checked your aura in Topeka and you were completely human.”
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    Jenna Black, The Devil Inside (2007)
    Morgan