Succubus Blues (28 page)

“That's all right. Just go there straight afterward. No stops. And don't…don't tell them you saw me. I'm supposed to be sick. Make up some reason to go there.”

He shook his head in exasperation, and I thanked him with a quick hug. As Seth and I departed, I saw Doug glance at Seth questioningly. Seth shrugged, answering the other man's silent inquiry with shared confusion.

I made more phone calls as we drove away, finishing my college list and leaving yet another desperate message for Roman.

“What now?” asked Seth when I lapsed into silence. Hard to say what he thought of my harassment of both Roman and Doug.

“I…I don't know.”

I had reached the end of my options. Everyone was accounted for except Roman, and I had no way to reach him. The clock was ticking. I didn't know where he lived. I thought he'd mentioned Madrona once, but that was a big area. I could hardly start knocking on all those doors. The nephilim had said I had until the end of my shift. Despite bailing on work, I assumed that still meant nine o'clock. I had almost three hours left.

“I guess I'll pick up my car and go back home.”

Seth dropped me off at the restaurant and followed me back to Queen Anne. A traffic light stopped him, so I made it to my apartment about a minute before he did. On my door was another note.

I was crumpling this note up when Seth reached me. I pulled my key out of my purse and feebly attempted to put it in my lock. My hands shook so badly, I couldn't do it. He took the key from me and opened the door.

We entered, and I collapsed on to the couch. Aubrey slithered out from behind it and jumped on my lap. Seth sat nearby, taking in my apartment—including my prominently displayed collection of his books on the new shelf—then returned his worried gaze to me.

“Georgina…what can I do?”

I shook my head, feeling helpless and defeated. “Nothing. I'm just glad you're here.”

“I…” He hesitated. “I hate to tell you this, but I've got to leave in a little while. I'm meeting someone.”

I looked up sharply. Another of those mysterious meetings. Curiosity temporarily replaced my fear, but I couldn't question him. Couldn't ask if he was meeting some woman. At least he said he was meeting
someone
. He wouldn't be alone.

“You'll be with…them…for a while then?”

He nodded. “I could come back late tonight, if you wanted. Or…maybe I could cancel.”

“No, no, don't worry about it.” By then, it would all be over.

He stayed awhile longer, again attempting conversation I couldn't participate in. When he finally stood up to leave, I could see anxiety written all over him and felt terrible I'd involved him in this.

“This will all be resolved tomorrow,” I told him. “So don't worry. I'll be back to normal then. I promise.”

“Okay. If you need anything, let me know. Call me, no matter what. Otherwise…well, I'll see you at work.”

“No. I have tomorrow off.”

“Oh. Well. Do you mind if I stop by?”

“Sure. Go ahead.” I would have agreed to anything. I was too tired to hold to my earlier notion of distancing. I'd worry about that later. Honestly. One thing at a time.

He left reluctantly, no doubt baffled when I told him to spend a lot of time with whoever he was meeting. As for me, I paced all over my apartment, not knowing what to do. Maybe I couldn't get ahold of Roman because the nephilim had already found him. That would hardly be fair since I'd never even had a chance to genuinely warn him, but this nephilim didn't really seem like the type to care about right or wrong.

Struck by inspiration, I called Information, realizing I'd missed the obvious way to find him. It didn't matter. Unlisted.

Two hours before my shift would have ended, I left Roman another message. “Please, please,
please
call me,” I begged. “Even if you're really mad at me for what happened. Just tell me you're out there and okay.”

No return call came. Eight o'clock rolled around. With one hour remaining, I left him another message. I could feel hysteria creeping in. God, what was I going to do? All I did do was continue pacing, pondering how soon would be too soon to call Roman one more time.

Five minutes before nine, utterly frantic, I grabbed my purse, desperate to leave my apartment and do something. Anything. Time was almost up.

What would happen? How would I know if I'd successfully jumped through the nephilim's hoops? When I saw Roman's murder plastered across the paper tomorrow? Would there be another note? Or maybe some gruesome token? What if the nephilim hadn't even meant any of the people I'd considered? What if it was someone completely out of the realm of—

I opened my door to leave and gasped.

“Roman!”

He stood there, mid-knock, as surprised to see me as I was him.

I dropped my purse and ran to him, flinging myself at him in a fierce embrace that nearly toppled him. “Oh God,” I breathed into his shoulder, “I'm so glad to see you.”

“I guess,” he replied, pulling slightly away to look down at me, his turquoise eyes concerned. “Lord, Georgina, what's wrong? I've got like eighty messages from you—”

“I know, I know,” I told him, still not letting go. Seeing him stirred up all the old, queasy feelings I had thought were buried. He looked so good. He smelled so good. “I'm sorry—it's just, I thought something had happened to you…”

I hugged him again, catching sight of my watch as I did so. Nine o'clock. My shift was over, as was the nephilim's ridiculous game.

“Okay, it's all right.” He patted me awkwardly on the back. “What's going on?”

“I can't tell you.” My voice shook.

His mouth opened to protest, but he reconsidered. “Okay. Let's take this slow. You're pale. Let's go get something to eat. You can explain all this then.”

Yeah, that would be a fun conversation. “No. We can't do that…”

“Come
on.
There's no way you can leave me all those desperate messages and then start playing the ‘we need space' game. Seriously, Georgina. You're a wreck. You're shaking. I wouldn't want you to be by yourself anyway if I'd found you like this, let alone after those calls.”

“No. No. No going out.” I sat down on the couch, needing to let him go, reluctant to do so. “Let's stay here.”

Still looking distressed, Roman fetched me a glass of water, then sat down by me, holding my hand. As time passed, I calmed down, listening as Roman talked about inconsequential things in an effort to make me feel better.

For his part, he was quite nice about my psycho phone calls. He continued trying to tease out an explanation, but when I remained evasive, only saying I had cause to worry about him, he stopped pushing—for now. He continued cheering me up, telling me funny things as well as his usual political soliloquies, complaining about the irrational rules and hypocrisy of the powers that be.

By late in the evening, I was relaxed again, left only with embarrassment for the way I'd behaved. Damn, I hated that nephilim.

“It's getting late. You going to be okay if I go?” he asked, standing with me near my living room window, overlooking Queen Anne Avenue.

“Probably better than if you stay.”

“Well, that's a matter of opinion,” he chuckled, running a hand over my hair.

“Thanks for coming by. I know…I know…it seems crazy, but you've just got to trust me on this one.”

He shrugged. “I don't really have a choice. Besides…it's kind of nice to know you were worried about me.”

“Of course I was. How could I not be?”

“I don't know. You aren't easy to read. I couldn't figure out if you really liked me…or if I was just something to pass the time. A diversion.”

Something in his words rang a bell in my head, something I should have paid attention to. Instead I was more caught up in how close he suddenly stood to me, how his hand ran down my cheek to my neck and to my shoulder. He had long, sensuous fingers. Fingers that could do a lot of good in a lot of good places.

“I do like you, Roman. If you don't believe anything else I tell you, believe that.”

He smiled then, a smile so full and beautiful, it made my heart melt. God, I had missed that smile and his funny, breezy charm. Moving his hand back up to my neck, he pulled me toward him, and I realized he was going to kiss me again.

“No…no…don't,” I murmured, squirming out of his grasp.

He backed off from the kiss, still holding on to me as he exhaled, disappointment all over his face. “Still worried about that?”

“You can't understand. I'm sorry. I just can't…”

“Georgina, nothing traumatic happened the last time we kissed. Short of your reaction, I mean.”

“I know, but it's not that simple.”

“Nothing happened,” he repeated, an unfamiliar hardness in his voice.

“I know, but—”

My mouth hung there mid-sentence as I replayed his words.
Nothing happened.
No, something had happened that night at the concert, kissing in the back hallway. I'd seen Roman stagger from the kiss. But me…what had happened to me? What had I felt? Nothing. A kiss that intense, a kiss with someone strong, a kiss with someone I wanted so badly should have triggered something. Even with a low energy yield like Warren, a deep kiss would wake up my succubus instinct, start to connect us, even if no significant transfer took place. Kissing Roman like that—especially when he ostensibly had a reaction—should have resulted in some kind of feeling on my end. Some sensation. Yet, there had been nothing. Nothing at all.

I had written it off to too much alcohol at the time. But that was ridiculous. I drank all the time before getting a fix. Alcohol could muddle my senses—as it obviously had that night—but no amount of intoxication could completely negate the sensation of anima transfer. Nothing could. I had been too trashed to realize the truth. Alcohol or no, I would always feel something from sexual or intimate physical contact unless…

Unless I was with another immortal.

I jerked away from Roman, breaking his hold on me. His expression registered surprise, immediately replaced by sudden understanding. Those beautiful eyes sparkling dangerously, he laughed.

“Took you long enough.”

“Y
ou faked it…faked being affected by me,” I realized, shock making my words come out thick and faltering.

Still chuckling, he took a step toward me, and I cringed, frantically trying to find a way to run, to get out of my own apartment. What had moments ago seemed safe and inviting now became close and stifling. My apartment was too small, the door too far away. I couldn't breathe. The amusement on Roman's face shifted to astonishment.

“What's the matter? What are you afraid of?”

“What do you think I'm afraid of?”

He blinked. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You kill immortals.”

“Well, yeah,” he admitted, “but I'd never hurt you. Never. You know that, don't you?” I didn't answer. “Don't you?”

I backed up farther, not that I had anywhere to go. I was faced in such a way as to only keep moving toward my bedroom, not toward the front door. That wasn't likely to do any good.

Roman still seemed floored at my reaction. “Come on, I can't believe this. I would never do anything to you. I'm half in love with you. Hell, do you know what a wrench you've already thrown into this operation?”

“Me? What have I done?”

“What have you done? You've wrapped my heart around your little finger, that's what you've done. That day…when you solicited me at the bookstore? I couldn't believe my luck. I'd been watching you all week, you know, trying to learn your habits. Christ, I'll never forget the first day I saw you. How feisty you where. How beautiful. I would have gone to the ends of the earth for you right then and there. And later…when you wouldn't go out with me after the signing? I couldn't believe it. You were originally going to be my first target, you know. But I couldn't do it. Not after I'd talked to you. Not after I'd realized what you are.”

I swallowed, curious in spite of myself. “What—what am I?”

He took a step toward me, a rueful half-smile on his handsome face. “A succubus who doesn't want to be a succubus. A succubus who wants to be human.”

“No, that's not true…”

“Of course it is. You're like me. You don't play by the rules. You're tired of the system. You don't let them push you into the role they've dictated for you. God, I couldn't believe it, watching you. The more you seemed interested in me, the more you tried to back off. You think that's normal for a succubus? It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen—not to mention the most frustrating. That's why I finally decided to call you out today. I couldn't decide if you'd really cut me off for my own good or were just interested in someone else now—like Mortensen.”

“Wait—that's why you arranged that stupid little game today? For your own fucking ego gratification?”

Roman shrugged haplessly, still looking self-satisfied. “It sounds so shallow when you put it like that. I mean, okay, it was pretty stupid. And maybe a little childish. But I had to know where your affection stood. You can't imagine how touching it was to see you so worried about me—not to mention the fact that you checked on me first. That was the real kicker: I got priority over the others.”

I almost protested that I'd actually worried about Seth first, having only called Roman beforehand because I thought Seth was already accounted for. Fortunately, I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut on that issue. Better to let Roman think he'd proven his point.

“You have issues,” I said instead, perhaps unwisely. “Making me jump through hoops like that. Me and the other immortals.”

“Perhaps. And I am sorry for any discomfort I caused you, but as for the others?” He shook his head. “It's good for them. They need it, Georgina. I mean, doesn't it piss you off? What they've done to you? You're obviously not happy with your lot, but do you think the folks in charge are going to let you change things? No. No more than they're going to give me or my kind a break. The system is flawed. They're locked in their fucking ‘this is good' and ‘this is evil' mentality. No gray area. No mutability. That's why I go around and do what I do. They need the wake-up call. They need to know they aren't the be all and end all of sin and salvation. Some of us are still fighting.”

“Go around…How often do you do this? This killing thing?”

“Oh, not that often. Every twenty to fifty years or so. Sometimes a century. Doing it sort of cleanses me for a while, and then, over the years, I'll start getting pissed off at the whole system again and stake out a new place, a new set of immortals.”

“Is it always the same pattern?” I remembered Jerome's symbols. “The warning phase…then the main attack phase?”

Roman brightened. “Well, well, haven't you done your homework. Yes, it usually works that way. Take out a few lesser immortals first. They're easy targets, even if I always feel a little guilty about it. Really, they're as much victims of the system as you and I are. Still, messing with them freaks out the higher immortals, and then the stage is set to move on to the main attraction.”

“Jerome,” I stated grimly.

“Who?”

“Jerome…the local archdemon.” I hesitated. “Your father.”

“Oh. Him.”

“What's that supposed to mean? You don't sound like he's a big deal.”

“In the grand scheme of things, he's not.”

“Yeah…but he's your father…”

“So? Our relationship—or lack thereof—doesn't really change anything.”

Jerome had said almost the exact same thing about Roman. Baffled, I sat down on the arm of a nearby chair since it appeared my imminent destruction wasn't quite so imminent after all. “But isn't he…isn't he the ‘real target'—the higher immortal you're here to kill?”

Roman shook his head, face turning serious. “No. That's not how the pattern works. After I move on from the lesser immortals, I focus in on the local bigwig. The real power-house in the area. That tends to unsettle people more. Better psychological effect, you know? If I can take out the big man on campus, then they worry no one is safe.”

“So, that would be Jerome.”

“No, it's not,” he countered patiently. “Archdemon or no, my illustrious father is not the ultimate power source around here. Don't get me wrong; I'm getting a nice bit of satisfaction from pissing in his territory, so to speak, but there's someone else who dwarfs him. You probably don't know him. It's not like you'd have reason to hang out with him or anything.”

Stronger than Jerome? That only left—

“Carter. You're going after Carter.”

“Is that his name? The local angel?”

“He's stronger than Jerome?”

“Considerably.” Roman gave me a curious look. “Do you know him?”

“I…know of him,” I lied. “Like you said, I don't hang out with him or anything.”

In reality, my mind raced. Carter was the target? Mild, sardonic Carter? I could hardly believe he was more powerful than Jerome, but then, I knew almost nothing about him. I didn't even know what he did, what his job or mission in Seattle was. Yet, one thing that was obvious to me—and only me, apparently—was that if the angel really did outclass Jerome, then Roman couldn't do anything to him, not if the rule about nephilim power not exceeding parental power held true. Roman shouldn't technically be able to harm either angel or demon.

I chose not to mention this to him, however—or the fact that I knew Carter better than Roman believed. The more delusional he was, the more of a chance we had to do something about him.

“Good. I didn't really figure a succubus would be too friendly with an angel, but with you, it's hard to tell. You may have a sharp tongue, but you still manage to gather a lot of admirers.” Relaxing slightly, Roman leaned against a wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “God knows I've already gone out of my way to avoid your friends.”

Anger helped me overcome my fear. “Oh really? What about Hugh?”

“Which one's he?”

“The imp.”

“Ah, yes. Well, I had to keep setting an example, didn't I? So, yeah, I messed with him a little. He'd been impertinent to you. But I didn't kill him.” He looked at me in what I supposed was meant to be an encouraging type of way. “That was for your benefit.”

I stayed silent. I recalled how Hugh had looked in the hospital. Impertinent?

“And what about the others?” he pushed. “That annoying angel? The vampire that threatened you? I wanted to break his neck on the spot. I got rid of them for you. I didn't have to do that.”

I felt ill. I wanted no deaths on my hands. “Most considerate of you.”

“Come on, give me a break here. I had to do something, and really, once I'd met your vampire friend at the dance lesson, I couldn't bring myself to do anything to him at all. You put me in a really tight spot. I was running out of victims.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” I snapped, ire rising at his pathetic show of compassion. “Is that why you took it easy on me that night?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” Thinking back to my attack, it all made perfect sense. It had occurred after I'd been to Krystal Starz, the day after I'd run out on Roman at the concert. A perfect excuse for him to be angry and seek retaliation. “Remember? The day after Doug's concert? After I'd been with Seth?”

Understanding washed over Roman's features. “Oh. That.”

“That's all you have to say?”

“It was a bit juvenile, I admit, but you can hardly blame me. It wasn't easy watching you cozy up to Mortensen after freaking out on me like that. I'd watched you go home with him the night before. I had to do something.”

I sprang up from my seat, old apprehension returning. “You had to do something? Like beat the crap out of me in an alley?”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? I told you I would never hurt you.”

“Then what are
you
talking about?”

“I'm talking about that ice cream place. I'd followed you two around earlier in the day, and when I saw how cute you were getting over dessert, I got jealous and blew the door open. Juvenile, as I said.”

“I remember that…” I trailed off stupidly, recalling how the door had blown open at the parlor, letting the outside wind wreak havoc in the small store. Wind like that was certainly uncharacteristic here, yet I had never suspected supernatural influence. He was right; it had been juvenile.

“So what's the alley thing you're talking about?” he prompted.

I snapped out of my memory. “Later…that night. I'd been running errands, and you…or someone…attacked me on the way home.”

Roman's face turned cold, his eyes sharpening to aqua steel. “Tell me. Tell me everything. Exactly what happened.”

I did, explaining my lead to the Harrington book, subsequent trip to Krystal Starz, and walk home in the dark. I edited the part about my rescuer, however. I didn't want Roman to know I had more than a casual acquaintance with Carter, lest the nephilim think I might be a deterrent to his plans. The more he thought I had no interest in the angel, the more likely I would be able to get out some kind of warning.

Closing his eyes, Roman leaned his head against the wall when I finished, sighing. Suddenly, he looked less like a dangerous killer and more like a tired version of the man I'd come to know and nearly love. “I knew it. I knew noninterference was too much to ask.”

“What…what do you mean?” A strange feeling crawled down my spine.

“Nothing. Forget it. Look, I'm sorry about that. I should have taken precautions beforehand to protect you. I knew too…the next day? When I came by and you cut things off between us? I could tell you had been hurt, even through your shape-shifting. I could tell it was supernaturally inflicted too, but I never suspected…I thought it was some other immortal—one of your own circle—you'd tangled with. You had sort of a residual effect on you…the faint traces of someone else's power…like a demon's…”

“But that's not—oh. You mean Jerome.”

“Daddy dearest again? Don't tell me…don't tell me he did something to you too.” Roman's brief lapse into mildness faded, replaced by something more sinister.

“No, no,” I said hastily, recalling Jerome's psychic slap, pinning me to the couch. “It wasn't like that. It was more of a show of power that I caught the edge of. He wasn't the one who hurt me. He'd never hurt me.”

“Good. I'm still not happy about what happened in the alley, mind you, but I'll have a little chat with the guilty party and make sure it never happens again. When I saw you that day, I had half a mind to take out all the immortals in the area. The thought of someone hurting you…” Closer and closer he came to me. Hesitantly, he squeezed my arm. I didn't know whether to recoil or reach out to him. I didn't know how to reconcile my old attraction with this new terror. “You have no idea how much I care about you, Georgina.”

“Then how…in the alley—”

Before I could follow that thought to completion, another suddenly poked its head up at Roman's words.
When I saw you that day.
He had visited me the day after the attack, coming over while Carter investigated a nephilim signature. But that was impossible. I couldn't remember where that particular signature had occurred, but it had not been close by. Roman could not have flashed Carter and then made it over to my apartment so quickly.

I knew noninterference was too much to ask for
.
I'll have a little chat with the guilty party
.

I understood then why Roman felt he could take on Carter, why having less power than the angel would pose no concern. The realization sank into me like lead, heavy and cold. I'm not sure what look crossed my face, but Roman's suddenly softened with compassion.