Succubus Blues (5 page)

“Can you sign this?”

He took it. “Uh, sure.” A pause. “I'll bring it back tomorrow.”

Deprive me of my book for the night? Hadn't I suffered enough?

“Can't you just sign it now?”

He shrugged haplessly, as though the matter were out of his control. “I can't think of anything to write.”

“Just sign your name.”

“I'll bring it back tomorrow,” he repeated, walking away with my copy of
The Glasgow Pact
like I hadn't even said anything. Appalled, I seriously considered running over and beating him up for it, but Warren suddenly tugged on my arm.

“Georgina,” he said pleasantly as I stared desperately at my retreating book, “we still need to discuss that matter in my office.”

No. No way. I definitely wasn't putting out after this debacle of an evening. Turning slowly toward him, I shook my head. “I told you, I can't.”

“Yeah, I know already. Your fictitious date.”

“It's not fictitious. It's—”

My eyes desperately scanned for escape as I spoke. While no magical portals appeared in the cookbook section, I suddenly locked gazes with a guy browsing our foreign language books. He smiled curiously at my attention, and in a flash, I made a ballsy choice.

“—with him. It's with him.”

I waved my hand at the strange guy and beckoned him over. He looked understandably surprised, setting his book down and walking toward us. When he arrived, I slung my arm around him familiarly, giving him a look that had been known to bring kings to their knees.

“Are you ready to go?”

Mild astonishment flashed in his eyes—which were beautiful, by the way. An intense green-blue. To my relief, he played along and returned my serve masterfully.

“You bet.” His own arm snaked around me, his hand resting on my hip with surprising presumption. “I would have been here sooner, but I got held up in traffic.”

Cute. I glanced at Warren. “Rain check for our talk?”

Warren looked from me to the guy and then back to me. “Sure. Yes. Of course.” Warren had proprietary feelings toward me, but they weren't strong enough for him to challenge a younger competitor.

A few of my coworkers also watched with interest. Like Warren, none of them had ever really seen me date anyone. Seth Mortensen busied himself packing up a briefcase, never meeting my eyes again, for all the world oblivious to my existence. He didn't even respond when I said goodbye. Probably just as well.

My “date” and I left the store, stepping out into the cool night. The precipitation had stopped, but clouds and city lights blotted out the stars. Studying him, I kind of wished maybe we were going out after all.

He was tall—really tall. Probably at least ten inches taller than my diminutive five-four. His hair was black and wavy, brushed away from a deeply tanned face that nearly made those sea-colored eyes glow. He wore a long, black wool coat and a scarf with a black, burgundy, and green plaid pattern.

“Thanks,” I said as we paused to stand on the street corner. “You saved me from an…unpleasant situation.”

“My pleasure.” He held out his hand to me. “I'm Roman.”

“Nice name.”

“I guess. It reminds me of a romance novel.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. No one's really named that in real life. But in romance novels, there are a million of them. ‘Roman the Fifth Duke of Wellington.' ‘Roman the Terrible yet Dashing and Eerily Attractive Pirate of the High Seas.'”

“Hey, I think I read that last one. I'm Georgina.”

“So I see.” He nodded toward the staff ID badge I wore around my neck. Probably an excuse to check out my cleavage. “Is that outfit the standard uniform for assistant managers?”

“This outfit's becoming a real pain in the ass actually,” I noted, thinking of the various reactions it had elicited.

“You can wear my coat. Where do you want to go tonight?”

“Where do I—? We aren't going out. I told you: you just saved me from a minor entanglement, that's all.”

“Hey, that's still got to be worth something,” he countered. “A handkerchief? A kiss on the cheek? Your phone number?”

“No!”

“Oh, come on. Did you see how good I was? I didn't miss a beat when you roped me in with that come-hither look of yours.”

I couldn't deny that. “All right. It's 555-1200.”

“That's the store number.”

“How did you know that?”

He pointed to the Emerald City sign behind me. It contained all of the store's contact information. “Because I'm literate.”

“Wow. That puts you, like, ten steps above most of the guys that hit on me.”

He turned hopeful. “So does that mean we can go out sometime?”

“Nope. I appreciate your help tonight, but I don't date.”

“Don't think of it as a date then. Think of it as…a meeting of minds.”

The way he looked at me suggested he wanted to meet more than just my mind. I shivered involuntarily, but I wasn't cold. In fact, I was starting to feel unnervingly warm.

He unbuttoned his coat. “Here. You're freezing. Wear this while I take you home. My car's around the corner.”

“I live within walking distance.” His coat was still warm from his body and smelled nice. A combination of cK One and, well,
man
. Yum.

“Then let me walk you home.”

His persistence was charming, which was all the more reason I had to end things now. This was exactly the kind of quality guy I needed to avoid.

“Come on,” Roman begged when I didn't answer. “This isn't much to ask for. I'm not a stalker or anything. All I want is one walk home. Then you never have to see me again.”

“Look, you barely even know me…” I paused, reconsidering what he'd said. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, you can walk me home.”

“Really?” He brightened.

“Yup.”

Three minutes later, when we arrived at my apartment building, he threw up his hands in dismay. “That wasn't fair at all. You're practically next door.”

“‘One walk home.' That was all you asked for.”

Roman shook his head. “Not fair. Not fair at all. But”—he looked up hopefully at my building—“at least I know where you live now.”

“Hey! You said you weren't a stalker.”

He grinned, gorgeous white teeth flashing against his tanned skin. “It's never too late to start.” Leaning down, he kissed my hand and gave me a wink. “Until we meet again, fair Georgina.”

He turned and walked off into the Queen Anne night. I watched him go, still feeling his lips on my skin. What an unexpected—and perplexing—twist to the evening.

When he was no longer in sight, I turned around and went into my building. I was halfway up the stairs when I realized I was still wearing his coat. How was I going to get it back to him?
He did that on purpose
, I realized. He let me keep it.

I suddenly knew then that I would be seeing wily Duke Roman again. Probably sooner, rather than later.

Chuckling, I continued on to my apartment, halting after just a few more steps.

“Not again,” I muttered in exasperation.

Familiar sensations swirled behind my apartment door. Like a glittering tempest. Like the humming of bees in the air.

There was a group of immortals inside my home.

What the fuck? Did I need to start charging admission to my apartment? Why did everyone suddenly think they could just go right inside when I wasn't there?

It occurred to me then, ever so briefly, that I had
not
sensed Jerome and Carter's presence earlier. They had caught me completely unaware. That was weird, but I had been too distracted by their news to pay much attention to anything else.

Similarly, my current anger did not allow me to further ponder that odd piece of trivia now. I was too annoyed. Slinging my purse over one shoulder, I stormed into my home.

“F
or someone who just orchestrated a murder, you're kind of overreacting.”

Overreacting? In the last twenty-four hours, I'd had to endure virgins, scary vampires, murder, accusation, and humiliation in front of my favorite author. I really didn't think coming home to a quiet apartment was too much to ask for. Instead, I found three interlopers. Three interlopers who were also my friends, mind you, but that didn't change the principle of the matter.

Naturally, none of them understood why I was so upset.

“You're invading my privacy! And I didn't murder anybody. Why does everyone keep thinking that?”

“Because you said yourself you were going to,” explained Hugh. The imp sprawled on my love seat, his relaxed posture indicating I might actually be the one in his home. “I heard it from Jerome.”

Across from him, our friend Cody offered me a friendly smile. He was exceptionally young for a vampire and reminded me of the kid brother I'd never had. “Don't worry. He had it coming. We stand by you all the way.”

“But I didn't—”

“Is that our illustrious hostess I hear?” called Peter from the bathroom. A moment later, he appeared in the hallway. “You look pretty snazzy for a criminal mastermind.”

“I'm not—” My words died on my lips as I caught sight of him. For a moment, all thoughts of murder and apartment intrusion blanked out of my mind. “For God's sake, Peter. What happened to your hair?”

He self-consciously ran a hand over the sharp, half-inch spikes covering his head. I couldn't even imagine how much styling product it must have taken to defy the laws of physics like that. Worse, the tips of the spikes were white-blond, standing out boldly against his normally dark hair color. “Someone I work with helped me with it.”

“Someone who hates you?”

Peter scowled. “You are the most uncharming succubus I've ever met.”

“I think the spikes really, um, emphasize the shape of your eyebrows,” offered Cody diplomatically. “They just take…some getting used to.”

I shook my head. I liked Peter and Cody. They were the only vampires I'd ever been friends with, but that didn't make them any less trying. Between Peter's assorted neuroses and Cody's dogged optimism, I sometimes felt like the straight man—er, woman—on a sitcom.

“A
lot
of getting used to,” I muttered, pulling up a barstool from my kitchen.

“You're one to talk,” returned Peter. “You and your wings and whip getup.”

My mouth dropped, and I turned an incredulous look on Hugh. He hastily shut the Victoria's Secret catalog he'd been leafing through.

“Georgina—”

“You said you weren't going to tell! You sealed your lips and everything!”

“I, uh…it just sort of slipped out.”

“Did you really have horns?” asked Peter.

“All right, that's it. I want you all out of here now.” I pointed at the door. “I've been through enough today without you three adding to it.”

“You haven't even told us about taking the contract out on Duane.” Cody's puppy-dog eyes looked at me pleadingly. “We're dying to know.”

“Well, Duane's the one who technically did the dying,” pointed out Peter in an undertone.

“Watch the snide comments,” warned Hugh. “You might be next.”

I half expected steam to pour from my ears. “For the last time, I did not kill Duane! Jerome believes me, okay?”

Cody looked thoughtful. “But you did threaten him…”

“Yes. And from what I recall, so have all of you at some time or another. This is just a coincidence. I didn't have anything to do with it, and…” Something suddenly occurred to me. “Why does everyone keep saying things like ‘arranged his death' or ‘got someone to murder him'? Why aren't you saying that
I
did it myself?”

“Wait…you just said you didn't.”

Peter rolled his eyes at Cody before facing me, the older vampire's expression turning serious. Of course, “serious” means all sorts of things when paired with a hairstyle like his. “No one's saying
you
did it because you couldn't have.”

“Especially in those shoes.” Hugh nodded toward my heels.

“I appreciate your complete lack of faith in my abilities, but isn't it possible I could have, I don't know, taken him by surprise? Hypothetically, I mean.”

Peter smiled. “It wouldn't have mattered. Lesser immortals can't kill one another.” Seeing my astonished look, he added, “How can you not know that? After living as long as you have?”

Teasing laced his words. There had always been an unspoken mystery between Peter and me concerning which of us was the oldest of the mortals-turned-immortals in our little circle. Neither of us would openly admit our age, so we'd never really determined who had the most centuries. One night, after a bottle of tequila, we'd started playing a “Do you remember when…” sort of game. We'd only gotten back as far as the Industrial Revolution before passing out.

“Because no one's ever tried to kill me. So what, are you saying all those turf wars vampires have are for nothing?”

“Well, not for nothing,” he said. “We inflict some pretty terrific damage, believe me. But no, no one ever dies. With all the territory disputes, there'd be very few of us left if we could kill each other.”

I stayed silent, turning this revelation over in my head. “Then how do—” I suddenly remembered what Jerome had told me. “They get killed by vampire hunters.”

Peter nodded.

“What's the deal with them?” I asked. “Jerome wouldn't elaborate.”

Hugh was equally interested. “You mean like that one girl on TV? The hot blonde?”

“This is going to be a long night.” Peter gave us both scathing looks. “You all need some serious Vampires 101. I don't suppose you're going to offer us anything to drink, Georgina?”

I waved an impatient hand toward the kitchen. “Get whatever you want. I want to know about vampire hunters.”

Peter sauntered out of my living room, yelping when he nearly tripped over one of the many stacks of books I had sitting around. I made a mental note to buy a new bookshelf. Scowling, he surveyed my nearly empty refrigerator with disapproval.

“You really need to work on your hosting skills.”

“Peter—”

“Now, I keep hearing stories about that other succubus…the one in Missoula. What's her name again?”

“Donna,” offered Hugh.

“Yeah, Donna. She throws great parties, I hear. Gets them catered. Invites everyone.”

“If you guys want to party with all ten people in Montana, then you're welcome to move there. Now stop wasting time.”

Ignoring me, Peter eyed the red carnations I'd bought the other night. I'd put them in a vase near the kitchen sink. “Who sent you flowers?”

“No one.”

“You sent yourself flowers?” asked Cody, his voice quaking with sympathy.

“No, I just bought them. It's not the same. I didn't—look. Why are we talking about this when there's an alleged vampire killer on the loose? Are you two in danger?”

Peter finally opted for water but tossed beers to Hugh and Cody. “Nope.”

“We aren't?” Cody seemed surprised to learn this. His scant years as a vampire practically made him a baby compared to the rest of us. Peter was teaching him “the trade,” so to speak.

“Vampire hunters are simply special mortals born with the ability to inflict real damage to vampires. Mortals in general can't touch us, of course. Don't ask me how or why this all works; there's no system as far as I can tell. Most so-called vampire hunters go through life without even realizing they have this talent. The ones who do sometimes decide to make a career out of it. They pop up like this from time to time, picking off the occasional vampire, making a general nuisance of themselves until some enterprising vampire or demon takes them out.”

“‘Nuisance'?” asked Cody incredulously. “Even after Duane? Aren't you the least bit worried about this person coming after you? After us?”

“No,” said Peter. “I am not.”

I shared Cody's confusion. “Why not?”

“Because this person, whoever he or she is, is a total amateur.” Peter glanced over at Hugh and me. “What did Jerome say about Duane's death?”

Deciding I needed a drink myself, I raided my kitchen liquor cabinet and made a vodka gimlet. “He wanted to know if I did it.”

Peter made a dismissive gesture. “No, about how he died.”

Hugh frowned, apparently trying to piece together the logic afoot. “He said that Duane had been found dead—with a stake through his heart.”

“There. You see?”

Peter looked at us expectantly. We all looked back, baffled.

“I don't get it,” I finally said.

Peter sighed, again looking utterly put out. “If you are a mortal who has the semidivine ability to kill a vampire, it doesn't fucking matter how you do it. You can use a gun, a knife, a candlestick, or whatever. The stake through the heart thing is hearsay. If a normal mortal does it to a vampire, it won't do a damned thing except really piss the vampire off. We only hear about it when a vampire hunter does it, so it carries some special superstitious lure, when really, it's only like that egg thing on the equinoxes.”

“What?” Hugh looked totally lost.

I rubbed my eyes. “I actually know what he's talking about, as scary as that is to admit. There's this urban myth that eggs balance on their ends during the equinoxes. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but the truth is, you'd get the same results any time of the year. People only try it on the equinoxes, however, so that's all anyone notices.” I glanced over at Peter. “Your point is that a vampire hunter could kill a vampire in any number of ways, but because the stake gets all the attention, that's what has become the accepted method of…‘revocation of immortality.'”

“In people's minds,” he corrected. “In reality, it's a pain in the ass to drive a stake through someone's heart. A lot easier to shoot them.”

“And so you think this hunter is an amateur because…” Cody trailed off, obviously unconvinced by the compelling egg analogy.

“Because any vampire hunter worth his or her snuff knows that and wouldn't use a stake. This person's a total newbie.”

“First,” I advised Peter, “don't say ‘worth his snuff.' That expression's out-of-style and makes you sound dated. Second, maybe this hunter was just trying to be old-school or something. And even if this person is a ‘newbie,' does it really matter since they managed to take out Duane?”

Peter shrugged. “He was an arrogant asshole. Vampires can sense vampire hunters at close range. Combined with this one's inexperience, Duane should have never been taken. He was stupid.”

I opened my mouth to counter this. I would be among the first to agree that Duane had indeed been both arrogant and an asshole, but stupid he was not. Immortals could not live as long as we did and see as many things as we did without gleaning substantial know-how and street smarts. We grew up quickly, so to speak.

Another question moved to the forefront of my reasoning. “Can these hunters hurt other immortals? Or just vampires?”

“Only vampires, as far as I know.”

Something didn't add up here between Peter's comments and Jerome's. I couldn't quite put my finger on what was bothering me exactly, so I kept my misgivings to myself as the others chatted on. The vampire hunter topic soon became passé, once they'd decided—with some disappointment—I hadn't contracted anybody. Cody and Hugh also seemed content to buy Peter's theory that an amateur hunter posed no real threat.

“Be careful, you two,” I warned the vampires when they were getting ready to leave. “Newbie or no, Duane is still dead.”

“Yes, Mom,” answered Peter disinterestedly, putting on his coat.

I gave Cody a sharp look, and he squirmed a bit. He was easier to manipulate than his mentor. “I'll be careful, Georgina.”

“Call me if anything weird happens.”

He nodded, earning an eye roll from Peter. “Come on,” said the older vampire. “Let's get some dinner.”

I had to smile at that. While vampires getting dinner might have frightened most people, I knew better. Peter and Cody both hated hunting human victims. They did it on occasion but rarely killed when they did. Most of their sustenance came from extra-rare butcher shop purchases. Like me, they were half-assing their infernal jobs.

“Hugh,” I said sharply as he was about to follow the vampires out. “A word, please.”

The vampires gave Hugh sympathetic looks before leaving. The imp grimaced, closing the door and facing me.

“Hugh, I gave you that key for emergencies—”

“Vampire murder doesn't constitute an emergency?”

“I'm serious! It's bad enough Jerome and Carter can teleport in here without you deciding to open up my home to God and the world.”

“I don't think God was invited tonight.”

“And then, you went and told them about the demon-girl outfit…”

“Oh come on,” he protested. “That was too good to keep to myself. Besides, they're our friends. What's it matter?”

“It matters because you said you weren't going to tell,” I growled. “What kind of friend are
you
? Especially after I helped you out last night?”

“Christ, Georgina. I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd take it so personally.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “It's not just that. It's…I don't know. It's this whole business with Duane. I was thinking about what Jerome told me…”

Hugh waited, giving me time to gather my thoughts, sensing I was about to unleash something. My mind pondered the night's unfolding as I studied the imp's large shape beside me. He could be as silly as the vampires sometimes; I didn't know if I could speak seriously to him.