Succubus Blues (16 page)

“So what's funny about that?”

“Nothing really. It's just that the human mating process usually seems to dictate everyone share their histories.”

“You want to do that?”

“Not really.” I actually hated that part of dating. I always had to edit my past. I hated the lying, having to keep track of my stories.

“I think the past plagues us enough without muddling it into our present. I'd rather look forward, not backward.”

I studied him curiously. “Does your past plague you?”

“Very much so. I fight every day to not let the past overtake me. Sometimes I win, sometimes it does.”

God only knew mine did the same. It was odd to talk to someone about this, someone who felt the same way. I wondered how many people in the world walked around with invisible baggage, hiding it from others. Even while packing said baggage, I'd always kept it concealed. I had a driving need to keep up surface appearances—hence the so-called “happy face.” I'd smiled and nodded through the worst times of my life, and when that superficial reaction had not been enough, I'd finally just run—even though it cost me my soul.

I smiled slightly. “Well then. I'm glad you and I stick to the present.”

He tweaked my noise. “Me too. In fact, my present is looking pretty damned good right now. Maybe my future too, if I keep weakening your resolve.”

“Don't push it.”

“Aw, come on. Admit it. You find my outrage at the powers-that-be endearing. Maybe even erotic.”

“I think ‘entertaining' would be a better word. If you want outrage, you should spend time with Doug, my coworker. You guys have a lot in common. By day he cleans up and plays respectable assistant manager, by night he's the lead singer of this wacky band, registering his discontent against society through music.”

Roman's eyes flickered with interest. “Does he play around here?”

“Yup. He'll be at the Old Greenlake Brewery this Saturday. Me and some of the other staff are going.”

“Oh yeah? What time should I meet you?”

“I don't recall inviting you.”

“Don't you? Because I could have sworn you just named a day and place. Sounded like a passive invitation to me. You know, the kind where it'd be my job to say ‘mind if I come along,' and then you say ‘yeah, no problem,' and so it goes. I just skipped a few steps.”

“Most efficient of you,” I observed.

“So…mind if I come along?”

I groaned. “Roman, we can't keep going out. It was cute at first, but it was only supposed to be one date. We've already gone past that. People at work think you're my boyfriend.” Casey and Beth had informed me recently what a “hottie” I had.

“Do they?” He looked very happy about this.

“I'm not joking here. I mean it when I say I don't want to get serious with anyone right now.”

And yet, I didn't really mean it. Not in my heart. I'd spent centuries cutting myself off from any sort of meaningful attachment with another person, and it hurt. Even when I had purposely cultivated relationships with nice guys in my succubus glory days, I had immediately dropped them and disappeared post-sex. In some ways, my life now was even harder. I avoided the guilt of stealing a nice man's life energy, but I never had true companionship either. No one who cared exclusively for me. Sure, I had friends, but they had their own lives, and those who got too close—like Doug—had to be pushed away again for their own good.

“Don't you believe in casual dating? Or even male-female friendships?”

“No,” I answered decisively. “I do not.”

“What about the other males in your life? That Doug guy? The dance instructor? Even that writer? You're friends with them, aren't you?”

“Well, yeah, but that's different. I'm not attracted—”

I bit off my words, but it was too late. Roman's face bloomed with hope and pleasure. He leaned toward me, touching my cheek with his hand.

I swallowed, terrified and thrilled by how close he was. Beer and sake had made me fuzzy in body and mind, and I made a mental promise not to drink the next time we went out. Not that we were going out again…right? Alcohol confused my senses, made it harder to differentiate between the succubus feeding instinct and pure, primal lust. Either one was dangerous around him.

And yet…in that moment, lust wasn't even really the issue. He was. Being with him. Talking to him. Having someone in my life again. Someone who cared about me. Someone who understood me. Someone I could go home to. And with.

“What time should I meet you?” he murmured.

I looked down, suddenly feeling warm. “It's a late show…”

His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, intertwining with my hair and tipping my face toward his. “You want to hang out beforehand?”

“We shouldn't.” My words all seemed long and drawn-out, like I was swimming in molasses.

Roman leaned over and kissed my ear. “I'll be at your place at seven.”

“Seven,” I repeated.

His lips moved to kiss the part of my cheek closest to my ear, then the cheek's center, then just below my mouth. His lips hovered so close to mine; my whole body concentrated on that proximity. I could feel the heat from his mouth, like it had its own private aura. Everything moved in slow motion. I wanted him to kiss me, wanted him to consume me with his lips and his tongue. I wanted it and feared it, yet felt powerless to act either way.

“Can I get you something else?”

The waiter's mildly embarrassed voice shattered my numbing haze, snapping me back to reason, reminding me what would happen to Roman even with a kiss. Not too much, true, but enough. I broke out of his grasp and shook my head. “Nothing else. Just the check.”

Roman and I spoke little after that. He drove me home and made no advances when he walked me to the door, only smiling kindly as he chucked me under the chin again and reminded me he'd be by at seven on Saturday.

I went to bed restless and aching for sex. The alcohol helped me fall asleep easily, but when I awoke in the morning, lying in bed in a drowsy state, I could still remember how it had felt to have his lips so close to mine. The lustful yearning returned with a vengeance.

“This is no good,” I complained to Aubrey, rolling out of bed.

I had three hours before work and knew I needed to do something other than daydream about Roman. Remembering that I had never followed up with Erik, I decided I should pay him a visit. The vampire hunter theory was more or less obsolete as far as I was concerned, but he might have found something else of use. I could also ask him about fallen angels.

Considering the whole “stashing” threat, I probably should have experienced more concern about going back to Arcana, Ltd. Still, I felt more or less safe. One thing I had learned about the archdemon was that he was not a morning person. He didn't really need rest, of course, but it was a mortal luxury he'd taken to wholeheartedly. I expected him to still be asleep, wherever he was, with no way of knowing what I planned to do.

Dressing and eating breakfast, I soon hit the road to Lake City. I found the shop effortlessly now, feeling dismay once more at its barren look and empty parking lot. Yet, when I entered, I saw a dark shape leaning over a corner of books, too tall to be Erik. Pleasure at the thought of Erik getting more business coursed through me until the figure straightened and fixed me with a sardonic, gray-eyed expression.

“Hello, Georgina.”

I swallowed. “Hello, Carter.”

C
arter picked up a book and leafed through it lazily. His stringy blond hair had been stuffed under a backward baseball cap, and his flannel shirt appeared to have seen better days.

“Looking for altar supplies?” he asked me without glancing up. “Or maybe here to brush up on your astrology?”

“It's none of your business why I'm here,” I snapped back, too flustered at the sight of him to think of anything funny or even plausible.

The gray eyes looked up. “Does Jerome know you're here?”

“It's not his business either. Why? Are you going to tattle on me?”

My words came out boldly, though part of me kept thinking if Carter really was the one behind the attacks, I'd have a lot more to worry about than Jerome's wrath.

“Maybe.” He closed the book, holding it between his palms. “Of course, I suspect the long-term entertainment value will be greater for me if I just keep quiet and let your schemes proceed uninterrupted.”

“I don't know what ‘schemes' you're talking about. Can't a girl go shopping without getting the third degree? You don't hear me grilling you about why you're here.”

The truth was, I burned to know what he was doing. It didn't surprise me that he knew Erik—we all did—but finding him here in light of everything that had happened lately only furthered my suspicions.

“Me?” He held up the book he'd been glancing through.
Teach Yourself Witchcraft in 30 Days or Less.
“I need to make up for lost time.”

“Cute,” I acknowledged.

“Commendation from a master. I'm honored. Have I given you sufficient time to come up with an equally cute alibi?” He set the book down.

“Miss Kincaid.” Erik shuffled into the room before I could answer. “I'm so pleased to see you. My friend just dropped off the earrings you asked for.”

I stared, momentarily puzzled, and then I remembered the pearl necklace, as well as the earrings I'd offhandedly requested.

“I'm glad he was able to do it so quickly.”

“Nice recovery,” conceded Carter in an undertone.

I ignored him.

Erik opened a small box for me, and I peered inside. Three tiny strands of freshwater pearls, just like the ones from the necklace, dangled from the delicate copper wires of each earring.

“They're beautiful,” I told him. I meant it. “Thank your friend. I have a dress these will look great with.”

“That must be a relief,” noted Carter, watching Erik ring the earrings up at the counter. “Proper accessories, I mean. Cody tells me you're doing a lot of dating these days. I don't suppose you read the book I sent you.”

I slid my credit card over to Erik. Cody had seen my male entourage at the dance lesson, but I'd only told him about my subsequent date with Roman yesterday.

“When did you talk to Cody?”

“Last night.”

“Funny, so did I. And here you are today. Are you following me around?”

Carter's eyes danced merrily. “I was here first. Maybe you're following me around. Maybe you're starting to get into this dating thing and want to find a cunning way to come on to me.”

I signed the credit card slip and handed it back to a quiet, listening Erik. “Sorry. I like my men to have a bit more life in them.”

Carter chuckled quietly at my joke. Sex with other immortals gave me no energy payoff. “Georgina, sometimes I think you might be worth following around, just to hear what you'll say next.”

Erik looked up. If he felt discomfort at being in the cross-fire of two immortals, he did not show it. “Then perhaps you'd like to join us for tea, Mr. Carter? You were going to stay, weren't you, Miss Kincaid?”

I gave Erik one of my better smiles. “Yes, of course.”

“Mr. Carter?”

“Thank you, but no. I've got things to do, and from the way I understand it, Georgina operates best one man at a time. It was nice seeing you as always, Erik. Thanks for chatting. As for you, Georgina…well, I'm sure I'll be seeing you very soon.”

Something in those words chilled me. It took every ounce of my resolve to sound calm as I called out to him. “Carter?”

His hands touched the door. Pausing, he glanced back at me and arched an eyebrow in acknowledgment.

“Does Jerome know
you're
here?”

A slow, sly smile spread across the angel's face.

“Are you going to tattle on me now, Georgina? And here I thought we were making such progress. Perhaps we should have drawn out the small talk a bit more. You could have asked me if the weather would change soon, I might have commented how pretty you looked today, etc., etc. You know how it goes.”

I blinked. His words this time invoked the note on my door.

You are a beautiful woman, Georgina. Beautiful enough, I think, to even tempt angels into falling…

Was he leaving me more clues? Toying with me in the way Cody had suggested? Or was I reading too much into this? Was he still just annoying Carter, bane of my existence, tormenting me like always? I honestly didn't know, but I still believed of all angels to be taking down evil immortals in the city, Carter had the most opportunity.

“How pretty am I then?” My voice caught slightly. “Pretty enough to fall for?”

The angel's lips twitched. “I knew you were coming on to me. See you later, Georgina, Erik.” He opened the door and left.

I stood there, watching his retreating figure. “What was he doing here?”

Erik set a tray with two cups down on the small table. “Come now, Miss Kincaid. I keep your secrets. You can't expect me to do any less for him.”

“No, I suppose not.”

Nor, I thought as the old man went to get the teapot, did I want to risk endangering him by getting him caught up in immortal affairs. Well, at least caught up more than he already was.

He returned shortly and poured for us. “I had just put this on before you came in. I'm glad you're here to share it.”

I tasted it. Another herbal blend. “What's this one called?”

“Desire.”

“Fitting,” I observed. Angels and conspiracies aside, I still hungered for Roman. “Did you find out anything?”

“I'm afraid not. I asked around but learned nothing more about vampire hunters, nor did I get any indication of one in the area.”

“That doesn't surprise me.” I sipped the tea. “I think something else is going on.”

He said nothing, prudent as ever.

“I know you won't tell me why he was here, and I understand that…” I trailed off, determining how best to phrase my words. “But what do you…what do you think of him? Carter, that is. Has he done anything weird or seemed, I don't know, suspicious? Secretive?”

Erik gave me a droll look. “Begging your pardon, but I have a number of customers—yourself inclusive—who fit that description.”

No doubt that was an understatement. “Well, then, I don't know. Do you trust him?”

“Mr. Carter?” Surprise registered across his features. “I've known him longer than I have you. If any of those ‘suspicious and secretive' customers can be trusted, he is certainly first among them. I'd place my life in his hands.”

No surprise there. If Carter could fool Jerome, he could surely fool a mortal as well.

Shifting gears, I asked: “Do you know anything about fallen angels?”

“I would think you are already familiar with that topic, Miss Kincaid.”

I wondered if he referred to the company I kept or the old myth that succubi were demons. For the record, we aren't.

“Never ask a practitioner if you want to learn about a religion's history. Save those questions for outside scholars.”

“Very true.” He smiled, thinking as he brought the cup to his lips. “Well. Surely you know that demons are angels who turned away from the divine will. They rebelled, or as it is commonly referred to, ‘fell.' Lucifer is generally accredited as being the first, and others left with him.”

“That was in the beginning, though, right? One mass migration to the other side.” I frowned, still wondering about the technicalities of when angels fell. “What about later? Was that the only time it happened? Just that once?”

Erik shook his head. “My impression is that it can happen still and has happened in the past. There are even documents suggesting—”

The door opened, and a young couple walked in. Erik rose and smiled at them.

“Do you have any books on tarot?” the girl asked. “For beginners?”

Did he ever. Erik had a whole wall of them. The interruption frustrated me, but I didn't want to disrupt a chance for him to do some business. I gestured him toward the couple, drinking the rest of my tea. He led them to the appropriate section, energetically explaining certain titles and questioning their needs in further detail.

I picked up my coat and purse, along with a box of the Desire tea. Erik watched me set a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “Keep the change,” I told him.

Pausing from his discussion with the couple, he remarked to me, “Check…let's see, I believe it's the beginning of Genesis 6…verse 2 or 4 perhaps? There might be something to help you in there.”

“Genesis? Like in the Bible?” He nodded, and I glanced around the book-lined shelves. “Where is it?”

“I don't stock it, Miss Kincaid. I suspect your own resources will be more than adequate.”

He returned to his customers, and I left, marveling at a man who could pull up biblical verses by number but not have a copy on hand. Still, he was right about me having ample resources, and my shift started soon anyway.

I drove back to Queen Anne and found the street parking full. Digging my permit out from the glove box, I hung it on my rearview mirror and pulled into the tiny, private parking lot bordering an alley behind the bookstore. So many employees wanted to use the lot, I generally tried to avoid it when I could.

As I walked toward the store, I caught sight of two cars pulled hood to hood and a redheaded figure leaning over them. Tammi. I liked the teenager a lot, but she also had a tendency to chat. Not wanting to delay my biblical search, I stepped into some shadows and shape-shifted into a nondescript man she wouldn't know. I then walked on past her, barely getting a second glance as she jumped the car.

I changed back to my normal body once I was out of sight again. A momentary sense of windedness hit me, gone just as quickly as it had arrived. Cross-gender shape-shifting always took a bite out of me, which was why I had resisted Peter's silly haircut-modeling suggestion. I had probably just lost a few days' worth of my Martin-induced energy surplus. That left me with a couple weeks at least, but I felt the succubus feeding need stir slightly within me anyway, no doubt agitated by my perpetual longing for Roman.

The bookstore hummed with normal weekday business when I arrived. Immediately, I sought out our religion section. I had directed people to it on a number of occasions; I had even pulled select titles from it. What I had not done was pay close attention to just how many Bibles existed.

“Jesus,” I muttered, staring at the various translations. There were Bibles for women and men respectively, Bibles for teens, illustrated Bibles, large-print Bibles, gold-embossed Bibles. At last I caught sight of the King James Version. I knew little about it, but at least I recognized the title.

Pulling it off the shelf, I flipped to Genesis 6 and read Erik's passage:

Well. That cleared everything up.

I reread the passage a few more times, hoping to get something more out of it. I finally determined Erik must have given me the wrong chapter number. He'd been distracted, after all. This passage, by my estimation, had nothing to do with angels, falling, or even the cosmic battle of good and evil. What it did seem to be about, however, was human procreation. It didn't take a biblical scholar to figure out what “the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men” meant, especially when children followed in the next phrase. Sex had sold books back in the old days, just as it did now. I wondered if Erik had given me the passage number as a joke.

“Are you finding religion?”

I looked up first into a Pac-Man T-shirt, then into Seth's inquisitive face. “Found and lost it a long time ago, I'm afraid.” I shut the book as he knelt down beside me. “Just looking up something. How are Cady and O'Neill today?”

“Making good progress on their latest case.” He smiled fondly, and I found myself studying the amber-brown of his eyes. I'd had a few more e-mail exchanges with him in the last few days and enjoyed my mininovels, though our spoken conversation had seen little improvement. “I just finished a chapter and needed to take a break. Walk around, get something to drink.”

“No caffeine, I presume.” I had learned Seth didn't drink caffeinated beverages, which I found both frightening and unnatural.

“No. No caffeine.”

“You shouldn't knock it. It might increase your writing output.”

“Ah yes, that's right. You don't think my books come out fast enough.”

I groaned, remembering the day I'd met him. “I think my own words came out a little too fast that first day.”

“No way. You were brilliant. I'll never forget it.”

His quizzical mask slipped briefly, just as it had at the dance lesson, and I once again saw male interest and appreciation cross his features. Crouching beside him, I again had a momentary sense of naturalness, like I normally had with Doug or one of the immortals. Something friendly and soothing. Like Seth and I had known each other forever. Maybe I had, in a manner of speaking, through his books.