I shook my head. "Paul, that wasn't me. She wasn't me."
"So you say. Sorry, but I'm not buying the next load of crap to get trucked by." He was looking a little ill now. "That was you. Joanne. Christ, I've known her-you-half your life. I'd know the difference!"
The scariest thing about it? Maybe he was right about that. Maybe the Demon really had become more me than me.
"She showed you what she wanted you to see," I said. "She showed David the faithful lover. She showed each of you exactly what would get her the maximum mileage..." God, what had she shown Lewis? One hell of a good time. I tried hard not to even consider it. "She wanted you on her side. Against me."
"I repeat: I got zero reason to believe you. And I'm not hearing anything to convince me."
I spread my arms. "I'm not a Demon. You can check."
"How do you think we do that? It's not the fucking Inquisition around here."
"Ask Marion. She'd know. She can see Demon Marks." Which begged the question..."Why didn't she recognize Evil Twin?" I asked it aloud, not expecting an answer, but surprisingly Paul actually had one.
"She wasn't awake," he said. "After you pulled your stunt that night in the clinic, she was in a coma. She came out of it this morning."
"When the person you thought of as me left," I said. He frowned and nodded. "Well, that's a coincidence. Lucky E.T. didn't just kill her."
He looked suddenly ill.
"What?"
Paul's mouth opened and closed, then opened again to say, "Marion's breathing stopped three times in the night. If there hadn't been an Earth Warden with her..."
Evil Twin didn't dare act directly, then, not if she was trying to carry on her campaign to become the one true Joanne. That had saved Marion's life. No doubt E.T. would have been delighted to have dispatched one of the only people in the world who could see her true, unpleasant nature. But Faux Joanne probably would have managed to keep her in a coma indefinitely, until an opportunity came around to quietly shuffle her offstage.
Paul's gaze, which had unfocused to mull things over, sharpened back on me. "How do I know you weren't behind that?"
"We could play this game all day, Paul, but the point is, I'm here, Marion's awake, and she's not pointing at me and screaming, 'Demon,' now, is she? So you're going to have to take something on faith." My turn to fold my arms and frown. "Paul, if I was in love with David, I'd never have slipped off with you. Not that you aren't studly, but..."
He looked deeply uncomfortable. Shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. Adjusted the limp tie at the collar of his much-rumpled business shirt, which was finely tailored but not up to the rigors of a Joanne Baldwin crisis. "Yeah," he mumbled to the floor. "I guess I knew that. I've known you a long time. You're a tease, but-"
"Tease?"
"Flirt," he amended hastily. "Jesus. Touchy, ain't ya? Look, whatever happened, the point is, she didn't get what she wanted, right?"
I wasn't so sure of that. "What did she want?" I pushed away from the door and paced a little, nervous and chilly. "She wanted to cut me off from any support, sure, but it was more than that. She went out of her way to enlist people. She wanted to be part of the Wardens. Why?"
"Because you were?"
I shook my head. "It wasn't just that she wanted a life. It's more than that." I remembered the way she'd felt in the clinic when she'd been about to kill me. And even back in the forest before the helicopter rescue. She'd refined her methods, but what she wanted wasn't just to be me. "Before she came after me, she took over Kevin. She wanted something, and it wasn't just about finding me, because she took him over when he was fighting the California fire-when was that?"
Paul pulled a handheld computer from his pocket and booted it up with a press of his thumb. He had big hands, but he was good with them, tapping out commands with effortless speed. "Same day," he said. "Same day you disappeared in Sedona."
I nodded. "Then I need to talk to Kevin. Now."
Summoning Kevin for a personal chat took about an hour, during which somebody provided lunch; I'd forgotten how good food could taste, and devoured two sandwiches without pausing for much beyond swigs of bottled water. Oh, it was good. I'd been willing to settle for some of Lewis's stale trail bars.
When he arrived Kevin wasn't alone; he screeched up the drive in a black Warden-issue SUV, the kind with the sun symbol aetherically embossed on the side, and for a second I was afraid that Evil Twin had come home for a High Noon-style showdown.
But when the passenger door opened, it was Cherise who got out. I was unreasonably cheered to see her, because she looked a hell of a lot better than she had-fresh, scrubbed, cute as a button in her snowflake-patterned tight sweater and blue jeans.
She had to be feeling better. Her nail polish matched the outfit.
"Jo!" Cherise was the only person I didn't need to win over; she flew across the room and hugged me like a sister. Well, from what I'd been through with Sarah, more like the sister I wished I had. "God, you look like hell! Hygiene, honey! Look into it!"
"Been busy," I said.
"Too busy to comb the crap out of your hair?" But she was kidding, and her grin faded fast. "What's going on? I thought you were better."
"Was I?" I gave her a long look as we stood at arm's length, and she slowly shook her head.
"Oh, man, that wasn't you, was it? Dammit. I knew something was wrong; I knew." If she had, Cherise had been the only one. Ironic, since she was also the only one of the entire group without some superpower or other, beyond looking fabulous under difficult circumstances. "You didn't seem like...you."
"But I remembered you."
"Sure." She shrugged. "But still. So. Evil twin?"
"Evil twin."
"That's hot."
"Not so much, from this side."
"Oh, come on, I'd kill for an evil twin. How cool would that be?"
I reached out and put a hand on Cherise's shoulder. "Cher, I think she's the one who hurt you. And Kevin."
I felt her flinch, but somehow she managed to hold on to her smile. "Okay. I take it back. Wouldn't kill for an evil twin, but I might kill her."
Kevin had come in sometime during our conversation, stomping snow off his heavy Doc Martens and shooting distrustful looks around the room. He wasn't judgmental about it. He didn't like anybody, except, of course, Cherise. He unzipped his black jacket-it was a Raiders down jacket, with the pirate logo on it-as if he were intending to pull out an Uzi and mow us all down, but that was just his normal urban 'tude.
"You yanked my leash?" he said to Lewis, who was sitting next to the fire with a cup of coffee. Lewis lifted his mug in my direction. "Great. Not her again."