Succubus Blues (33 page)

“C
asey's out sick,” Paige told me briskly, putting on her coat. “So you'll probably have to cover for her on the registers.”

“It's no problem.” I leaned against her office wall. “Keeps things interesting, you know?”

Pausing, she gave me a brief smile. “I really appreciate you coming in like this—on such short notice.” She patted her stomach absentmindedly. “I'm sure it's nothing, but I've had this pain all day—”

“No, it's fine. Go. You have to take care of yourself. You have to take care of both of you.”

She smiled at me again, picking up her purse and walking to the door. “Doug's skulking around here somewhere if you need help, so make him do it. Hmm…there was one other thing I needed to tell you…Oh yeah—there's something for you in your office. I left it on your chair.”

Butterflies shot through my stomach at her words. “W-what is it?”

“You'll have to see. I've got to go.”

I followed Paige out of her office and turned uncertainly into my own. The last thing left on my chair had been an envelope from Roman, one more piece in his twisted game of love and hate.
Oh God,
I thought.
I knew it wouldn't be as easy as Carter had said. Roman's back, starting it all up again, waiting for me to—

I stared, swallowing a gasp.
The Glasgow Pact
sat on my chair.

Gingerly, I picked up the book, handling it like fine china. It was my copy, the one I had given Seth to sign over a month ago. I'd forgotten all about it. Opening up the inside cover, I saw lavender rose petals fall out. There were only a handful of them, but they were more precious to me than any of the bouquets I'd received this month. Trying to catch them, I read:

“He's back, you know.”

“Huh?” I looked up from the baffling inscription to see Doug leaning against the doorframe.

He nodded toward my book. “Mortensen. He's up in the café again, typing away as usual.”

I closed the book, holding it tightly with both hands. “Doug…are you up on your Greek mythology?”

He snorted. “Don't insult me, Kincaid.”

“Thetis and Peleus…they were Achilles' parents, right?”

“Indeed they were,” he told me, smug with the confidence of his area of expertise.

For my part, I was simply puzzled. I didn't really get the inscription or understand why Seth would reference the Trojan War's greatest warrior.

“Do you know the rest?” Doug asked me expectantly.

“What? That Achilles was a dysfunctional psychopath? Yeah, I know that.”

“Well, yeah, everyone knows that. I mean the really cool part. About Thetis and Peleus.” I shook my head, and he continued, professor-like, “Thetis was a sea nymph, and Peleus was a mortal who loved her. Only, when he went to woo her, she was a real bitch about it.”

“How so?”

“She was a shape-shifter.”

I nearly dropped the book. “What?”

Doug nodded. “He approached her, and she turned into all sorts of shit to scare him off—wild animals, forces of nature, monsters, whatever.”

“What…what'd he do?”

“He held on. Grabbed her and wouldn't let go through all of those terrible transformations. No matter what she turned into, he just held on.”

“Then what?” I could barely hear my own voice.

“She finally turned back into a woman and stayed a woman. Then they got married.”

I had stopped breathing somewhere around the word “shape-shifter.” Still clutching the book, I stared off into space, a great winged feeling swelling in my chest.

“You all right, Kincaid? Christ, you've been weird lately.”

I blinked, tuning back in to reality. The feeling in my chest burst out, launching into glorious flight. I started breathing again.

“Yeah. Sorry. I've just had a lot on my mind.” Forcing levity, I added, “I'll do my best not to be too weird from now on.”

Doug looked relieved. “Coming from you, that might be a long shot, but here's to hoping.”

“Yes,” I agreed, smiling. “Here's to hoping.”

Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of Richelle Mead's next Georgina Kincaid novel coming in January 2008 from Kensington Publishing!

D
emons are scary.

No matter what religion or walk of life you come from, this remains pretty constant. Oh sure, they have their absurd moments—especially in the circles I run with—but all in all, people have good reason to fear and avoid hell's diabolical servants. They're cruel and merciless, delight in pain and suffering, and torture souls in their free time. They lie. They steal. They cheat on their taxes.

Yet, in spite of all that, I couldn't help but think I was about to witness the most terrifying demonic act yet.

An awards ceremony. For me.

Horatio, Vice Demon of such-and-such division of Infernal Affairs, stood before me, trying to impart an air of solemnity to the moment and failing miserably. I suspected his sky blue polyester suit and matching paisley bow tie were largely to blame. The sideburns didn't help either. He probably hadn't left the inner circles of hell in about six centuries, back around the last time sky blue polyester was in style.

With a too-long clearing of his throat, he glanced back and forth between those gathered, verifying we all paid attention. My supervisor Jerome stood nearby, looking utterly bored, occasionally glancing at his watch. Beside him, Horatio's impish assistant Kasper grinned from ear to ear. A briefcase sat on the floor near him, and he clutched an assortment of papers. The eager, sucking-up lapdog look on his face indicated a burning desire for promotion.

As for me…well, I was fighting a hard battle to look excited too—and failing. Which was unacceptable, of course. I'm a succubus. My entire existence relies on making people—men in particular—believe and see what they want to in me. I can switch from simpering virgin to sultry dominatrix in a heartbeat. All it takes is a bit of shape-shifting and a dash of playacting. I'd picked up the former ability when I traded away my human soul; I'd acquired the latter over time. After all, you can't spend centuries telling every guy, ‘Yeah baby, you were the best I've ever had' and not learn a little something about schmoozing. Myths may paint us as ethereal, demonic creatures of pleasure, but honestly, being a succubus just comes down to a convincing poker face and a good sales pitch.

So, really, this awards thing shouldn't have been a problem for me. But Horatio wasn't making it easy to keep a straight face.

“Verily, it gives me great honor to be here today,” he intoned in a nasally, baritone voice.

Verily?

“Hard work is what makes us great, and we gather here now to recognize one who has shown dedication and given her all to the Greater Evil. Such individuals are what make us strong, what will allow us to win in this immense battle when all tallies are counted at the end of time. Such individuals are worthy of our esteem, and we strive to reward their commitment, letting all know just how important it is to push hard against the odds and fight for our objectives in these difficult times.”

He then added: “Whereas those who do not work hard are cast into the fiery pits of despair, to burn for all eternity and be ripped asunder by the hounds of hell.”

I opened my mouth, on the verge of noting how that would be more cost effective than severance pay, but Jerome caught my eye and shook his head.

Meanwhile, Horatio had nudged Kasper, and the imp hastily handed over a gold embossed certificate. “It is therefore with great pleasure that I present unto you this Award of Achievement for Excellently Exceeding and Surpassing Requisite Succubus Quotas in this Most Recent Quarter. Congratulations.”

Horatio shook my hand and handed me the certificate, which had been signed by about fifty different people.

Everyone looked at me when I finished reading, so I supposed they expected some kind of speech or something. Mostly I was wondering if I'd get in trouble for trimming this down to fit an eight by ten frame.

“Um, thanks. This is…cool.”

That seemed to satisfy Horatio. He nodded smartly, then shot a glance to Jerome.

“You must be so proud.”

“Exceptionally,” murmured the archdemon, stifling a yawn.

Horatio turned back to me. “Keep up the good work. You might find yourself in line for promotion to the corporate level.”

As if giving my soul away wasn't already bad enough. I forced a smile.

“Well. There's still so much to do here.”

“Excellent attitude. Most excellent. You've done well with her.” He gave Jerome a chummy pat on the back, something my boss did not look happy about at all. He didn't really like friendly pats. Or being touched, period. “Well, if there's nothing more, I should probably—oh, I nearly forgot.”

Horatio turned to Kasper. The imp handed over something else to his master.

“These are for you. As a token of our appreciation.”

He gave me a gift card for Applebee's, as well as some Blockbuster free rental coupons. Jerome and I both stared for a moment, dumbstruck.

“Wow,” I finally said. The runner-up for this award probably got a gift card for Sizzler. Never doubt that second place really is the first loser.

Horatio and Kasper vanished. Jerome and I stood in silence for a few moments.

“You like riblets, Jerome?”

“Droll, very droll, Georgie.” He strolled around my living room, pretending to study my books and artwork. “Nice job with the quota thing. Of course, it's easy to excel when you're starting at zero, huh?”

I shrugged and tossed the certificate on my kitchen counter. “Does it really matter? Still gets you the laurels. I figured you'd like that.”

“Of course I do. In fact, I've been rather pleasantly surprised at just how well you've kept your promise.”

“I always keep my promises.”

“Not
all
of your promises.”

My silence made him smile. “So what now? Going out to celebrate?”

“You know where I'm going. I'm going to Peter's. Aren't you?”

He avoided the question; demons excelled at that. “I thought perhaps other plans had arisen. Plans with a certain mortal. You do seem to be doing that an awful lot lately.”

“It's none of your business what I do.”

“All of your business is my business.”

Again, I didn't answer. The demon stepped closer, dark eyes boring into me. For inexplicable reasons, he chose to look like John Cusack while walking the human world. That might seem like it would reduce his power to intimidate, but I swear, it only made things worse.

“How long are you going to keep up this farce, Georgie?” His words were a challenge, trying to draw me out. “You can't honestly think you have a future with him. Or that you two can stay chaste forever. For Christ's sake, even if you can keep your hands off him, no human male's going to stay celibate for long. Especially one with a large fan base.”

“Did you miss the part where I said it's my business?”

Heat rose to my cheeks. Despite knowing better, I'd recently gotten myself involved with a human. I wasn't even entirely sure how it had happened since I've always gone out of my way to avoid that kind of thing. I guess you could say he sort of snuck up on me. One moment he was simply a warm and comforting presence at my side; the next I realized how intensely he loved me. That love had blindsided me. I hadn't been able to resist it and had decided to see where it might take me.

As a result, Jerome never failed to remind me of the potential disaster I courted daily in this romance. His opinion wasn't entirely unfounded. A small part of this was because I didn't have a good track record with serious relationships. The larger part was that doing much more than hand-holding with a human would inevitably lead to me sucking away some of his life. But hey, all couples have their stumbling blocks, right?

The demon smoothed down the jacket of his perfectly tailored black suit. “Just friendly advice. It makes no difference. I don't mind if you keep playing house with him—denying him a future, a family, a healthy sex life. Whatever. So long as you keep up the good work, it's all the same to me.”

“Are you done with the pep talk? I'm late.”

“One more thing. I thought you might like to know I just made some arrangements for a pleasant surprise. One you'll like.”

“What kind of surprise?” Jerome didn't really do surprises. Not good ones, at least.

“Wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

Typical. I scoffed and turned away. “I don't have time for your games. Either tell me what's going on or leave.”

“I think I'll leave. But, before I do, just remember something.” He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around to face him again. I flinched at his touch and his proximity. The demon and I were not as buddy-buddy as we had once been. “You only have one man who's a constant in your life, only one man you will always answer to. A hundred years from now,
he
will be dust in the earth, and
I
will be the one you keep coming back to.”

It sounded romantic or sexual, but it wasn't. Not in the least. My tie to Jerome ran deeper than that. A binding and loyalty that literally went straight to my soul. A connection I was bound to for all eternity, at least until the powers of hell decided to assign me to a different archdemon.

“Your pimp routine is getting old.”

He stepped back, undisturbed by my rancor. His eyes danced.

“If I'm a pimp, Georgina, what's that make you?”

There was an ostentatious poof of smoke, and Jerome disappeared before I could reply.

Fucking demons.

I stood alone in my apartment, turning over his words in my mind. Finally, remembering the time, I headed for the bedroom to change clothes. As I did, I passed Horatio's certificate. Its gold seal winked up at me. I flipped it over, face-down, suddenly feeling queasy. I might be good at what I did, but that didn't mean I was proud of it.

I ended up being only about fifteen minutes late for my friend Peter's shindig. He answered his door before I could even knock. Taking in his billowing white hat and
Kiss the Cook
apron, I said, “I'm sorry. No one told me
Iron Chef
was being filmed here tonight.”

“You're late,” he chided, waving a wooden spoon in the air. “So what, you win an award and think you can forget all about propriety now?”

I ignored his disapproval and swept inside. It was the only thing you could do with an obsessive-compulsive vampire.

In the living room, I found our other friends Cody and Hugh sorting large piles of cash.

“Did you guys rob a bank?”

“Nope,” said Hugh. “Since Peter's trying to provide us with a civilized meal tonight, we decided a civilized pastime was required.”

“Money laundering?”

“Poker.”

From the kitchen, I could hear Peter muttering to himself about a soufflé. It sort of diminished my image of a bunch of shady characters huddled around a backroom card table. “I think bridge would be more appropriate.”

Hugh looked doubtful. “That's an old-person's game, sweetie.”

I had to smile at that. ‘Old' was kind of a relative term when most of us could boast centuries. I had long suspected that among my circle of lesser immortals—those who were not true angels or demons—I had more years than any of them, never mind my driver's license's optimistic claims to being twenty-eight.

“Since when do we even play games?” I wondered aloud. Our last attempt had involved a game of Monopoly with Jerome. Competing with a demon in a struggle for property and ultimate control is kind of futile.

“Since when don't we play games? Games of life, games of death. Games of love, of hope, of chance, of despair, and of all the myriad wonders in between.”

I rolled my eyes at the newcomer. “Hello, Carter.” I'd known the angel was lurking in the kitchen, just as Peter had felt me coming down the hall. “Where's your better half tonight? I just saw him. I thought he was coming too.”

Carter strolled in and gave me one of his mocking smiles, gray eyes alight with secrets and mirth. He wore his usual transient ware, ripped jeans and a faded tee shirt. When it came to age, the rest of us couldn't even compare to him. The others and I had once been mortal; we measured our lives in centuries or millennia. Angels and demons…well, they measured their lives in eternity. “‘Am I my brother's keeper…'”

Classic Carter answer. I looked to Hugh who was, in a manner of speaking, our boss's keeper. Or at least a sort of administrative assistant.

“He had to take off for a meeting,” said the imp, stacking twenties. “Some kind of team building thing in L.A.”

I tried to imagine Jerome participating in a ropes course. “What kind of team building do demons do exactly?”

No one had an answer for that. Which was probably just as well.

While the money sorting continued, Peter made me a vodka gimlet. I eyed the bottle of Absolut on his counter.

“What the hell is that?”

“I ran out of Grey Goose. They're practically the same anyway.”

“I swear, if you weren't already an abomination before the Lord, I'd accuse you of heresy.”

When all the money was sorted, including my contribution, we sat around the vampires' kitchen table. Like everyone else in the known world right now, we started playing Texas Hold 'Em. I could play okay but faired far better with mortals than immortals. My charisma and glamour had less effect on this group, which meant I had to think harder about odds and strategy.

Peter scurried around during the game, attempting to play and watch his meal at the same time. It wasn't easy since he insisted on wearing sunglasses while playing, which then had to be removed while he checked the food. When I commented on how this would be my second fancy dinner in two nights, he nearly had a fit.