Succubus Heat gk-4

by Richelle Mead

She snorted. "We're all misunderstood. You have no idea how many times people try to use that as a reason to break their contracts."

  Between mourning Seth and being the target of Jerome's annoyance lately, I'd had little time to think about much else. Kristin's words suddenly triggered a memory, one I'd tried to keep buried for some time now.

  "How many times do people try to break their contracts over an error?"

  When Niphon had been here last winter, he'd gone to great pains to complicate my life and get me recalled to Hell. Since he'd been the one to trick me into selling my soul so long ago, I had plenty of reason to hate him. But why he'd hate me and want to ruin me? That had been-and still was-a mystery. Hugh had speculated that when an imp went to that much trouble to mess with their acquisition, there was usually a reason-specifically, a potential problem with the original contract.

  My casual air didn't fool Kristin. "You think there might be an error in yours?"

  I kept my nonchalance. "Hugh-my imp-thought there could be. But he wouldn't look it up." His refusal to help me still stung.

  "He's smart. Looking into others' contracts can get us in big trouble. The vaults of Hell are not a place you want to get caught snooping around in. It would take a lot to get an imp to risk that."

  I had no proof, but something told me that Kristin was older and higher-ranking than Hugh and that she might have more access than he did. I smiled sweetly. "What would it take for you to risk that?"

  "Nothing you can offer." She flashed me a wry grin and slipped on sleek Oakley sunglasses. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

  We ended up at a house out in suburban Vancouver. It was a lower middle-class area, not particularly polished but not the kind of place you had to worry about getting mugged either. Kristin parked on the street and led me up the house's driveway, her heels clicking on the concrete. Along the sides of the yard, someone had recently planted marigolds and geraniums.

  She rang the doorbell, and a moment later, a man in his mid-twenties answered the door. He had messy black hair, like maybe he'd just woken up, and possessed the friendly, low-key feel of someone who worked at Home Depot or Circuit City.

  "Hey, Kristin," he said, voice cheerful and blasé. "Come on in."

  She stepped just inside the doorway, and I followed, offering the guy a friendly smile of my own. "I can't stay," she told him crisply. "I'm just dropping her off. Evan, this is…"

  Kristin glanced at me, apparently waiting to see if I wanted to use my own name. I usually used different identities and shapes when seducing victims, but it didn't seem worth it for this.

  "Georgina," I supplied.

  "Georgina," said Kristin. "This is Evan." He and I shook hands. "Georgina's one of the founders of a sister chapter in Seattle. She's here to see how things are done and possibly form some connections between the groups." She tipped her head down, looking at him over the tops of her sunglasses. "I want you to show her every courtesy and involve her in your activities. It's very important."

  He nodded, still looking mild and pleasant-but a little nervous at the strictness in her voice. "Absolutely." Cedric had said Evan knew Kristin was a power player on Team Evil, and he clearly seemed to respect her. She supposedly didn't have the people skills to "deal with" this group, but from the way Evan regarded her, it didn't seem like it'd take much to get his attention.

  To me, Kristin said, "Call a cab when you're done. We'll expense it."

  With that, she headed back out to her car, leaving me with the alleged general of the Army of Darkness.

  "You want anything to drink?" he asked, stifling a yawn. "I've got some RC in the fridge."

  "No, thanks. I'm just anxious to learn how you do things up here."

  He grinned. "Sure. I should probably show you the temple first."

  I glanced around, taking in the flowered sofa and grandfather clock. "Temple?"

  "Yeah, it's in the basement. You sure you don't want something to drink?" There was nothing I wanted to drink that was under 80 proof, so I declined once again.

  He led me down some rickety steps, pulling a chain at the bottom that turned on a bare lightbulb. We stood in an unfinished basement with rough cement floors and brick walls. Fold-up chairs were arranged in a semicircle around a low bookcase about as high as my waist. On top of the case was a propped up painting with an angel's black silhouette set against a gray and purple nebula. It looked like it had come straight off a sci-fi novel's cover. Half-burned red and black candles were scattered around the painting, along with an inverted cross. Off to the side of the room, more candles sat on top of a washer and dryer. Evan walked over to a light switch and turned it on. White Christmas lights twinkled to life on the brick walls.

  "Wow," I said. My astonishment was not faked.

  "We aren't finished setting up here," he said modestly. "We have to change our location a lot to avoid discovery. You know how it is. So, there's still some stuff we need to unpack." He pointed over to a cardboard box in the corner. I couldn't see all of its contents, but I did make out a black feather boa and a glow-in-the-dark plastic skull. On the side of the box, black marker succinctly declared: TEMPLE STUFF .

  I counted the chairs. Fifteen. "How many members do you have?" I asked.

  "About a dozen. A little less than that that are truly active." He sat down in one of the chairs and gestured for me to do the same.

  "And how long have you been meeting?"

  "Oh, about a year now."

  I smiled, turning on the charm in an effort to not sound like an investigative reporter. "I've heard about some of the things you've done. Pretty impressive. Like the Bibles and the, um, spray paint."

  He beamed at the praise. "You heard about that? Cool. We do as the Angel of Darkness directs us."

  "What other things have you been directed to do?"

  "Well, there was the one time this Methodist church was having an ice cream social. We broke in beforehand and left all their ice cream outside the freezer to melt."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Then, this other time, we went to the petting zoo and hung pentagram collars on all the goats. We also painted their horns red and black. Let me tell you, that wasn't easy. They don't like to stand still."

  "Uh-huh."

  "Oh, and then we made all the TVs show Rosemary's Baby ."

  "Uh-TVs?"

  "Yeah, I work at Circuit City, and we have these big walls of TVs, so I synced them all up. My boss never suspected who did it."

  On and on the litany went. About ten minutes later, I interrupted, unable to listen to any more. "Look, Evan, this is really amazing stuff you've been doing. I mean, this is stuff my people in Seattle would never, ever dream of doing in a million years."

  "Really?" he asked happily.

  "Really," I said flatly. "But, although it makes a big statement, wouldn't it be more in line with the, uh, Angel's purposes to work on securing souls for him?"

  "Her," corrected Evan.

  "Her. Right." Lucifer, Satan, the Devil, whatever. There were lots of names for what humans regarded as the supreme entity of evil, and I'd heard tons over the years. Considering the popular idea of Lucifer being a fallen angel, this "Angel of Darkness" thing didn't surprise me, but the female part did. "Sorry," I told him. "We know the Angel as male."

  "It's okay," he replied. "The Angel is all things to all people."

  "Right. So, anyway, I mean, the ultimate goal is to convert as many people to her as possible, right? To lead them down the left-hand path. It doesn't seem like melting ice cream would do that-not that that isn't cool," I added hastily. "I'm just wondering if you should be more focused on leading people into temptation instead."

  Evan didn't seem bothered by my criticism in the least. "Maybe that's what your group is directed to do. But this is what ours is supposed to do. We all serve different purposes in the greater plan."

  I was sure I had an idiotic look on my face, so I tried to shift back to the alluring, seductive mode that had landed me this job in
the first place. Surely it couldn't be that difficult to sway him, particularly considering how fresh my succubus glamour was. Reaching out, I took his hand and delicately stroked it with my fingers.

  "You're doing amazing things," I reiterated, moving closer. "Really amazing. But maybe it's time to move on to the next level, to truly bring darkness to the world."

  His eyes studied my hand for a moment, then looked back up. His breath caught as the full effect of my glow enchanted him. He swallowed nervously. "Perhaps. But not now. This is our purpose for the time being."

  "Only because you haven't tried something else. Maybe that's why I'm here, why the Angel sent me: to expand your influence." I leaned my face close to his, lips only inches away from the side of his face. "I can teach you things. All sorts of things."

  Zealous or no, I was definitely affecting him. He took another deep breath, trying to steady himself. "We're already doing what the Angel wants."

  I ran my lips across his check, letting my tongue flick out. "Are you sure? Let me show you how we honor the Angel…"

  He shot up abruptly and put his back to me. After several deep breaths-honestly, he was in danger of hyperventilating-he turned around to look at me. Warring desires danced in his eyes. He still had that crazy yes-man zealot look, but he also looked like he was already envisioning me naked. It was intriguing that his devotion to a largely fictitious entity could stand up to my charms, but religious fanatics had a history of being tenacious. "You're very…sweet," he said at last. "Very. But I can't-we can't. I mean, this is what we do. What the Army does. We can't change that, not without talking to the others."

  Progress. I kept the smile turned on, wondering if I should keep pushing on him now or try to enthrall the whole group. I opted for the latter, largely because I could think of few things more unarousing than having sex on the black Ozzy Osbourne plush rug on the floor. Especially if Evan decided to turn on any black lights. "Of course," I purred. "When can I meet them?"

  He raked a hand through his hair, still a little hot and bothered. "Well…you should come to our next meeting. It's Saturday at ten a.m. Over at the big Tim Hortons on Broadway."

  "Okay, I'll be-" I blinked, my sultry façade faltering. "Did you say Tim Hortons?"

  He recovered himself and returned to his upbeat nature. "Oh, yeah. You guys don't have them, do you? They're these donut shops and-"

  "No, I know what they are. I'm just surprised, that's all." Aside from seeming like a mundane place for a Satanists' meeting, Canadians going to Tim Hortons was like the biggest stereotype ever.

  "Are you kidding? Their coffee's the best."

  I left after that, my head reeling. These weren't Satanists. These were frat boys doing hazing pranks. They probably smashed beer cans on their foreheads at their dark ceremonies.

  Kristin wasn't at her desk when I returned to Cedric's office across town. Presumably she was off doing imp things. Or maybe she was at lunch. His door was closed, making me think he must be busy, but honestly, I didn't have time to pay much attention to that. Something else immediately caught my attention.

  There was a demoness in his waiting room.

  A full-fledged archdemoness, actually. I recognized her, even though we'd never formally met. Nanette, Portland's archdemoness.

  "Hi," I said, too stunned for much more than that. I might backtalk Jerome, but other demons were an entirely different matter.

  She glanced up from her magazine like she'd just noticed me, though I knew she'd sensed me long before this. "Hello. Georgina, right?"

  I nodded, wondering if I should shake her hand or something. She didn't seem like she was keen to get up, so I simply sat in another chair. Why was Portland's archdemoness waiting to see Cedric? And why was she waiting, period? That wasn't in demonic nature at all. They were too impatient.

  Nanette wore a short, peach-colored shift dress that showed off long, shapely legs. Her blond hair fell just over her shoulders, smooth and sleek from a flat iron-or, well, from demonic magic. She was beautiful, but it was edged in the cold fierceness demons so often had, like the way a cobra or a katana is beautiful.

  I wasn't afraid to talk to people. Striking up conversation was part of what I did. But I wasn't entirely sure what to say to her. Demons were prickly about how they interacted with lesser immortals. Some were quite snobby about it. I didn't know too much about Nanette or how she might react. I knew she was less powerful than Jerome and that the two didn't have much contact. I'd never heard of her being particularly bitchy or trigger-happy, so I took that as a good sign.

  My concerns about what to say were put to rest when she spoke first.

  "Boy," she said. "I wouldn't want to be you for the world."

  "I-I beg your pardon?"

  "This." She gestured toward Cedric's closed door with a French manicured hand. "All of this. I presume you've been out to see his little Army of the Night?"

  "Darkness," I corrected. "Army of Darkness."

  "Whatever. Those nuisances. Jerome sent you here to 'help' because Cedric wanted an infiltrator?"

  "Something like that." I wondered how this news had spread so fast.

  Nanette shook her head in mock sympathy. "You're going to be the one to take the fall if something goes wrong. If things go bad between Jerome and Cedric or if that cult won't play ball…well, like I said, I wouldn't want to be you. You're being played from every angle and don't even realize it."

  "What's there to play? I just got here. And I don't see how things can go wrong," I said slowly. "I mean, this group just does stupid stunts." I recalled how even a little seduction had affected Evan. If I'd started stripping on the Ozzy rug, I was certain he wouldn't have been able to hold back. "They're no real threat to Cedric, and I don't think they're going to be that hard to rein in. And as for him and Jerome…I mean, they patched up their differences already, right?"

  "Come now. You're what, a millennium old? Millennium and a half? So young." She smiled. "Georgina, demons never settle their differences. Even you should know that. Do you really think things are stable around here? With the way Cedric's let this cult run wild? And after the way Jerome's barely been able to keep control in Seattle?"

  I thought about Jerome booting me to Canada in less than twenty-four hours. "Jerome seems like he's got control to me."

  She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, blue eyes gleaming. "Jerome has had three nephilim in his territory in the last six months. Three. Do you know how unheard of that is? I'm guessing you'd never even run into a nephilim your entire life before this. Not in all those years."

  "No," I admitted.

  Nephilim were the children of humans and angels-well, angels who had fallen and were now demons, seeing as having kids was a breach of Heaven's employment agreement. Considered abominations by both good and evil alike, nephilim were the scourge of the immortal world. They had a lot of power and were pissed off at the way greater immortals treated them. They were unruly, destructive, and given to killing sprees.

  Jerome had actually fathered two nephilim, twins who were among the three Nanette was referring to. One of them, Roman, had been my boyfriend for a bit while he secretly wiped out immortals on the side. I'd been instrumental in his undoing-something I was certain he was still pissed off about, particularly since it had resulted in the death of his sister. We hadn't seen Roman since then. Shortly thereafter, a nephilim named Vincent had come to Seattle, following an angel he loved. Vincent was actually a very sweet nephilim, though I wasn't sure how kind he was feeling these days since Heaven had kicked out his girlfriend when she killed another angel to save him. Vincent too had disappeared.

  "Three nephilim," repeated Nanette. "And two got away. Sloppy, very sloppy."

  "It wasn't Jerome's fault," I said loyally, a bit unsure how you'd even assign blame in that situation. It had never occurred to me that our unexpected visitors could be seen as a sign of Jerome's weakness or his inadequacy as archdemon. "The angels could have done something. It's their territor
y too."

  "Not in the eyes of our superiors," she said slyly.

  I frowned, losing a bit of my timidity. "With all due respect, what are you doing here?"

  Her smile grew. "What do you think? I have two demons in my backyard who are in an arms race. Both are getting attention from demons outside the Northwest." I didn't like the sound of that and recalled Cedric affirming as much. "You think I want to be involved in that? You think I want to be played the way everyone's playing you? My territory's small, and I'm weaker than both Jerome and Cedric. I don't want them to decide to annex Portland while they play their cosmic game of Risk. I want them to leave me alone." Her voice was hard, but I heard a bit of worry in there too, and I realized what was going on.

  "You're here to…" I considered "suck up" or "beg" but thought better of it. "…negotiate with Cedric. For protection. To keep you out of it."

  Nanette looked away, unwilling to acknowledge this in front of a succubus. Just then, the door opened and Cedric stepped out. He glanced around. "Kristin's still gone? I wish she'd hurry up and bring back those donuts."

  "Tim Hortons?" I guessed.

  He gave me an incredulous look. "Of course." He turned to Nanette. She'd stood up, and he kissed her hand in a polite, antiquated way. "Sorry. Phone call with Tech Support. You know how that is." To me he said, "We'll talk later."

  I took it as a bad sign that he said "later" and not "soon." Settling into my chair, I braced myself for patience. Ten magazines later, Cedric opened the door again. Nanette was nowhere in sight, so I presumed she must have teleported back to Portland.

  I took my same chair in Cedric's office, noting that his screen showed Match. com rather than Wikipedia today. When he saw what I was looking at, he hastily minimized his Web browser.

  "So, what have you found out?"

  I gave him a report of my morning with Evan. "They're ridiculous," I declared as my final assessment.

  "I already knew that," he said. "You think you can put an end to this? Soon?" The impatient sound in his voice made me wonder if he'd expected me to cinch things up already.

  I thought about it. "Yeah, pretty sure I can as soon as I meet the others. This guy looked like he might crack on his own. But I won't see them until Saturday."