Succubus Blues (23 page)

“Y-yes.”

Are you sure?

The pressure increased, and it was all I could do to manage a weak nod. The psychic cage abruptly dropped, and I slumped forward, taking in deep breaths. I could still feel where his power had touched me, rather like a tactile version of the afterimage one sees with a camera flash.

“I'm glad you understand, and I'm sure you'll also understand if I don't entirely believe you. It's part of the nature of our side.”

“Is this…is this the part where you stash me somewhere?”

He chuckled softly. Menacingly. “No. Not yet at least. Frankly, I think you just need a little supervision to stay out of trouble. I'm also not entirely convinced you and the nephilim merely have a passing relationship.”

A retort was on my lips, but I bit it off, my skin still burning.

“I'd have one of your friends do it, but I don't doubt you could wrap any of them around your smallest finger. No, you need babysitting by someone who won't bend, who won't fall for your tricks.”

“Tricks? Who then?” For a minute, I half thought he referred to himself until I noticed Carter's smug smile. Oh man. “You can't be serious.”

“It'll ensure you toe the line, Georgie. What's more, it will keep you alive.”

“You're practically our best lead at the moment,” Carter explained. “This nephilim has some interest in you, even though that interest seems to have shifted a bit from note-passing to assault.”

“Carter will be ready if it tries to finish what he interrupted. He can also shield your apartment from prying eyes.”

“But it'll sense him when we go out—” I tried weakly.

“No more than you can now,” Carter reminded me. “And I'll be invisible. A ghost at your side. An angel on your shoulder, if you will. You won't even know I'm around.”

“Jerome, please, you can't do this—”

“I can, and I will. Unless, like I said, you want me to have a chat with Lilith?”

Damn him. The threat of Lilith was stronger than any potential stashing, and he knew it.

“Good. If there's no further discussion then, I'll take my leave and let you two get situated.” Jerome glanced between us, dark eyes resting on me a moment. “Oh, by the way. Do check yourself out in a mirror at some point.”

I scowled, thinking of Cody's scrutiny of my injuries. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“What I'm reminding you of is that you're a succubus. Those bruises are a manifestation of believing you're human. You are not. You have to feel them, but you don't have to wear them.”

With that, the demon vanished in an eye blink, leaving a faint smell of brimstone in his wake that I suspected was pure showmanship.

“So, do I get the couch?” Carter asked me cheerfully.

“Go to hell.” I left the room to go check out my reflection.

“Hardly a nice way to treat your new roommate.”

“I didn't ask for your—”

I stopped halfway down the hallway. I'd spent the last couple of weeks suspecting Carter of murder and other terrible things; I'd spent the last half-century hating him as a person. Yet he'd just saved my life, and I hadn't uttered one word of thanks.

I turned toward him, dreading what I now had to say.

“I'm sorry.”

He wore a look similar to the one Jerome had had when I asked his permission earlier. “Really? For just now?”

“For not thanking you earlier. For saving me out there. I mean, I'm not happy about you shacking up here, but I am grateful for what you did then. And I'm sorry, too, if I haven't exactly been…nice to you.”

The angel's expression was unreadable. “Glad to have helped.”

Not knowing what else to say, I turned and kept walking.

“What are you going to do now?” he asked.

I paused again. “Look at the damage and then go to bed. I'm tired. And I hurt.”

“Aw, no slumber party games or popcorn? No make-overs?”

“Don't take this personally, but you could use a makeover. You look like a refugee. Why…” I swallowed and rephrased my words as I studied him. “When I saw you out there, on the street, you were…you were so beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen.” My voice came out as a whisper.

Carter's face turned grave. “Jerome's the same way, you know. In his true form. Just as beautiful. Angels and demons come from the same stock. He chooses that John Cusack wannabe shape by choice.”

“Why? Why does he do that? And why do you choose to look like a junkie or a bum?”

The edges of the angel's lips turned slightly upward. “Why does a woman who claims she wants to avoid the attention of nice men choose a form that makes everyone around her do a double take and stare?”

I swallowed again, lost in the far reaches of his eyes, but not in the same way I had been lost in Roman's or Seth's eyes. It was more like the angel could see all the way through me, through all of my facades, down to my soul or what remained of it.

With great effort, I broke that scrutiny, turning back toward my bedroom.

“No one is punished forever,” he told me gently.

“Yeah? That's not what I hear. Good night.”

I went into my bedroom, closing my door behind me. Just before it clicked, I heard Carter call, “So, who's making breakfast?”

A
round ten the next morning, the phone jolted me out of a dream I'd been having about jellyfish and mint chocolate chip ice cream. Rolling over, I picked it up, discovering in the process that I ached a lot less than I had last night. Immortal healing in action.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it's Seth.”

Seth! Yesterday's events rushed back to me. The birthday party. The ice cream. The perfume. I again wondered who he'd had to meet after dropping me off at the bookstore.

“Hi,” I gushed, sitting up. “How are you?”

“Not bad. I'm, uh, over at Emerald City, and I didn't see you…they said it's your day off.”

“Yeah, I'll be back tomorrow.”

“Okay. So, um, do you want to maybe do something today? Lunch? Or a movie maybe? Unless you have other plans…”

“No…not exactly…” I bit my lip, silencing the immediate acceptance that wanted to spring forth.

I still had that strange, inexplicable attraction and sense of comfortable familiarity with Seth. I would have liked to hang out with him more, but I had already tried walking the line of friendship and dating with Roman, only to have that blow up in my face. It would be far better never to get started with Seth, despite my longings. Besides, I hadn't forgotten about my angelic bodyguard; I didn't really want him tagging along. Best to keep Carter indoors as long as possible.

“But I'm sick.”

“Really? I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, you know…just that kind of run-down feeling.” It wasn't entirely a lie. “I don't really feel up to getting out today.”

“Oh. Okay. Do you need anything? Do you want me to bring you any food maybe?”

“No…no,” I hastily assured him, banishing images of Seth feeding me chicken soup while I lounged around in cute pajamas. Christ. This was going to be harder than I thought. “I don't want you to have to keep taking care of me. Thanks, though.”

“I don't mind. I mean, no problem.”

“I should be in tomorrow, if this doesn't get worse…so I'll see you then. Maybe we can have coffee. Or rather, I'll have coffee and you can…not have coffee.”

“Okay. I'd like that. Not having coffee, I mean. Would you mind…that is, can I check on you later? Call you again?”

“Sure.” The phone was safe enough.

“Okay. If you need anything before then…”

“I know how to reach you.”

We said our goodbyes and disconnected, and I clambered out of bed to see what mischief Carter had managed this morning. I found the angel sitting on a stool by my kitchen counter, feeding Aubrey sausage with one hand while he held some sort of breakfast sandwich in the other. An enormous McDonald's bag sat on the counter near him.

“I made breakfast,” he told me, eyes on Aubrey.

“Don't give her that,” I chastised. “It's bad for her.”

“Cats don't eat kernels of dry food in the wilderness.”

“Aubrey couldn't survive in the wilderness.”

I scratched her head, but she was more interested in licking the grease off her chops. Opening the bag, I found a variety of sandwiches and hash brown patties.

“I didn't know what you'd want,” Carter explained as I pulled out a Bacon, Egg, & Cheese Biscuit.

I bit into it, melting at that scrumptiousness, grateful weight gain and cholesterol were nonevents for me. “Hey, wait. Did you actually go to McDonald's?”

“Yup.”

I swallowed the food. “You just left? Just now?”

“Yup.”

“What kind of bodyguard are you? What if the nephilim came back and attacked me?”

He eyed me and shrugged. “You look okay to me.”

“You're not very good at this.”

“Who was on the phone?”

“Seth.”

“The author?”

“Yeah. Wanted to hang out today. I told him I was sick.”

“Poor guy. You're breaking his heart.”

“Better that than something else.” I finished the sandwich and went for a second one. Aubrey watched me hopefully.

“So what are we doing today?”

“Nothing. At least, I'm not going out, if that's what you mean.”

“You aren't going to attract nephilim attention that way.” He glanced around my apartment and grimaced when I didn't respond. “It's going to be a long day then. I hope you at least have cable.”

We spent the rest of the morning more or less staying out of each other's way. I let him use my laptop, and he got caught up in surfing eBay. What he could be looking for, I had no idea. As for me, I stayed in my pajamas after all, tossing a robe over them and deeming that good enough. I attempted to call Roman once, knowing I'd need to face him eventually, but I only managed to leave a voice mail message. I hung up with a sigh, opting to curl up on the couch with a book Seth had recommended in one of his e-mails.

Just as I was starting to think I'd recovered from the dense breakfast and needed lunch, Carter suddenly peered over the top of the laptop, like a hound sniffing the wind.

“I have to go,” he told me abruptly, standing up.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Nephilim signature.”

I bolted upright from my lounging position. “What? Where?”

“Not here.”

With that, he blinked out of sight.

I sat there, looking around uneasily. Whereas earlier I'd felt stifled by his presence, his sudden disappearance became a gaping hole in my environment. I was exposed. Vulnerable. When he didn't return in a few minutes, I tried unsuccessfully to pay attention to my book, finally giving up after I'd reread the same sentence five times.

Still wanting lunch, I called and ordered a pizza, making sure I included enough for Carter. Doing this wasn't the best of ideas on my part since it meant opening the door eventually. When I did, I expected no less than an army of nephilim outside. Instead, I only found a bored-looking pizza guy, demanding $15.07.

I munched on the pizza and tried to watch television with little luck. Turning to the laptop, I checked my e-mail and found that Seth had sent me a funny letter, much more eloquent than our earlier conversation, per usual. It only provided temporary distraction, and I was on the verge of breaking out the paint-by-number kit when Carter blinked back into my living room.

“What the hell was that? Where have you been?”

The angel regarded me with a calm, wry smile. “Easy there, haven't you ever heard of respecting boundaries in a relationship? It was in that book you were so quick to discard.”

“Cut it out. You can't just say ‘nephilim signature' and then disappear like that.”

“I can actually. I have to.” He found the cold pizza on my counter and bit into a piece. Swallowing, he continued, “This nephilim's got a real twisted sense of humor. Every once in a while, it likes to unmask…flash us, so to speak. This time it came from West Seattle.”

“You can detect that from this far away?”

“Jerome and I can. We never catch the creep, but we have to check it out anyway. Leads us on a merry chase.”

The implications seemed obvious to me. “So you leave me? What if it's a setup? What if it flashes you over there and then zaps back to me while all the attention's away?”

“It can't just ‘zap' around. Nephilim don't move like higher immortals do; they're constrained by the same limitations as you, fortunately. This one would have to get in a car and drive back over here, just like everyone else, which would hardly be a speedy process. You're protected by miles of traffic congestion.”

“Weird.”

“Like we said, they're unpredictable. They like breaking rules, shaking up the status quo just to see what we'll do.”

“Weird,” I repeated. “Does it even know you're there? That it's making you drop everything and come?”

“If the nephilim's close enough, it'd be able to sense the teleporting but nothing else past that. As long as we're masked, our identities, strength, and whatever stay hidden. So, if it is lurking, it knows two higher immortals came to check it out, but not much more than that.”

“And it just watches and waits,” I concluded. “Kind of twisted. Lord, these things are a pain in the ass.”

“Tell me about it. They ‘do not go gently into that good night.'”

I blinked at the poetic reference. “Wait…that's what's going to happen? You're going to kill…er, destroy it or something?”

Carter cocked his head toward me curiously. “What'd you think would happen? Ten years and parole?”

“I…don't know. I just figured…wow. I don't know. Are you into that? The whole smiting thing? I mean, I suppose you guys vanquish evil on a regular basis, huh?”

“We smite, as you so cutely term it, when we have to. Demons tend to be more into it than we are. In fact, Nanette even offered to come up and take care of this nephilim,” he recalled, referring to Portland's archdemoness. “But I told Jerome I'd help.”

“Wouldn't Jerome want to do it himself?”

“Do you refuse backup when it's offered?” he asked me, answering my question with a question which, really, was no answer at all. Thinking about it, he laughed softly. “Of course, I forget, Georgina rushes in where angels fear to tread.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how that quote really goes.” I stood up and stretched. “Well, if the excitement's over, I think I'll take a bath.”

“Wow. The harsh lifestyle of a succubus. I wish I had your job.”

“Hey, our side's always recruiting. You might need to be a little prettier to be an incubus, though. And a little more charming.”

“Untrue. Mortal women go for jerks. I see it all the time.”

“Touché.”

I left him and took my bath, afterward finally giving up my pajamas for jeans and a T-shirt. I returned to the living room, turned on the television, and found
The African Queen
just starting. Carter closed the laptop and watched with me. I'd always liked Katharine Hepburn but couldn't help marvel at what a dull day this was turning out to be. Avoiding going outside wouldn't do me any good in the long term since I'd have to drag Carter around with me tomorrow anyway when I went to work. My self-imposed enclosure today only prolonged the inevitable. In light of this, I considered breaking the cabin fever by seeing if he wanted to go to dinner after the movie. He shot up before I could speak, once more sensing a nephilim signature.

“Twice in one day?”

“It happens.”

“Where now?”

“Lynnwood.”

“This guy gets around.”

But I was speaking to empty air; Carter had disappeared. Sighing, I turned back to the movie, feeling a little more at ease after the angel's last explanation. The nephilim was in Lynnwood, trying to be a nuisance to Jerome and Carter. Commuting time was rapidly approaching, and Lynnwood was no small jump away. No nephilim would beat the angel back. As Carter had pointed out, I was safe for the time being. I had no need to panic.

Yet, I nearly jumped out of my skin anyway when I heard the phone ring a few minutes later. Nervously, I picked up the receiver, imagining a nephilim blasting out of it.

“Hello?”

“Hey. It's me again.”

“Seth. Hi.”

“Hope I'm not bothering you. I just wanted to see how you are…”

“Better,” I told him sincerely. “I liked your e-mail.”

“Did you? Cool.”

Our normal silence fell. “So…did you get a lot of writing done today?”

“I did actually. About ten pages. That never sounds like a lot, but—”

A knock sounded at the door, and a chill ran down my spine. “Can-can you hang on?”

“Sure.”

Hesitantly, I prowled toward the door like a cat burglar, as though slow and drawn-out movements would actually do something against an insanely powerful supernatural being. Reaching the door, I carefully peered out the peephole.

Roman.

Exhaling with relief, I opened the door, resisting the urge to throw my arms around him. “Hi.”

“Are you talking to me?” asked Seth through the phone.

“Hi,” Roman told me, looking just as uncertain as I felt. “Can…I come in?”

“Er, no I'm not, I mean, yes you can, and yes I am talking to you now.” I stepped aside so Roman could enter. “Look Seth, can I, um, call you back? Or maybe…I'll just see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess. Everything okay?”

“It's fine. Thanks for calling.”

We hung up, and I gave Roman my full attention.

“Seth Mortensen, famous author?”

“I've been sick today,” I explained, using the same excuse I'd given Seth. “He just wanted to check on me.”

“Terribly considerate of him.” Roman put his hands in his pockets and paced.

“We're just friends.”

“Of course you are. Because you don't date, right?”

“Roman—” I cut off the onslaught that wanted to rush out, switching to safer territory. “Can I get you anything? Soda? Coffee?”

“I can't stay. I was passing through and got your message. I just thought I'd…I don't know what I was thinking. It was stupid.”

He turned as if to leave, and I frantically reached out, grabbing his arm. “Wait. Don't. Please.”

He turned to face me, looking down from his lofty height, the normally good-humored face grave today. Fighting my natural reaction at such proximity, I felt surprised when his expression softened, and he noted, mildly astonished, “You really aren't feeling well.”

“W-what makes you say that?” I had shape-shifted my bruises away as Jerome had suggested and whatever smarting pain I felt was no longer visible.

Gingerly, he reached out and stroked my cheek, fingers becoming bolder. “I don't know…you're just…kind of pale, I guess.”

I started to point out I wasn't wearing makeup and then realized I wanted to appear sick. “Probably a cold.”