Succubus Blues gk-1

by Richelle Mead

  "Not really," he finally said. "Identifying immortals isn't so easy."

  "But it can be done."

  "Yes, of course, but some are better at hiding than others. Nephilim especially have reason to stay hidden since they're continually pursued."

  "Even when not being nuisances?" I asked, surprised. Neither Carter nor Jerome had mentioned that.

  "Even then."

  "That's kind of sad."

  I remembered the blurb from Harrington's book, recalling how both heaven and hell had rejected the nephilim. Maybe I'd be really pissed off in that case too, wanting to cause trouble and let both sides know I didn't approve of their policies.

  Erik had little more to offer on nephilim, and our conversation digressed further and further. An hour went by to my surprise, as I would have expected Carter to stop me by now. Making my own excuses, I apologized to Erik, telling him I needed to get going. I bought some of the tea as usual, and he urged me to come back anytime, also as usual.

  When I got to the door, he called hesitantly, "Miss Kincaid? About nephilim..."

  I felt gooseflesh rise on me. He did indeed know something about all of this. Damn it.

  "Remember, they're immortal. They've been around for a long time, but unlike other immortals, they have no agendas or divine plots to carry out. Many try to simply live meaningful and even ordinary lives."

  I pondered this weird piece of information as I walked outside, imagining a nephilim commuting to a day job. Hard to juxtapose that with the horrific images I had otherwise been fostering.

  Evening had long since fallen, and the parking lot was empty. Turning invisible, I waited for Carter to take us out. And waited. And waited.

  "Well? What's the holdup?" I murmured.

  No answer.

  "Carter?"

  No answer.

  Then it hit me: Carter had left on another nephilim hunt. I was alone. Great. What was I supposed to do? I had no car, and regardless of what the angel had said about me being safe when he did this sort of thing, I felt uneasy standing out here alone in the dark. I stepped back inside the store, visible. Erik looked up at me with surprise.

  "Do you mind if I wait here for a ride?"

  "Not at all."

  Of course, now I had to get a ride. Pulling out my new cell phone, I debated who to call. Cody would be the ideal choice, but he lived far south of the bookstore and I was north. He would already be on his way to the dance lesson, and coming up here would only ensure we were both late. I needed someone who lived close by, but I didn't know anybody except... well, Seth lived in the University District. That wasn't too far away from Lake City. The tricky part was whether he was actually at his home or still in Queen Anne.

  Taking the plunge, I called his cell.

  "Hello?"

  "It's Georgina. Where are you at?"

  "Urn, home..."

  "Great. Would you mind giving me a ride?"

  Fifteen minutes later, Seth arrived at Erik's. I'd half expected Carter to show back up in that time, but there'd been no sign of him. Thanking Seth, I slid into his car. "I really appreciate you doing this. My ride kind of flaked out on me."

  "I don't mind." He hesitated and gave me a sidelong glance. "You look beautiful."

  "Thanks." I had on a red sleeveless dress with a corset-like top.

  "It could use a flannel shirt, though."

  It took me a moment to remember the ensemble I'd worn to his brother's, a moment longer still to recall I'd never given him the shirt back.

  "I'm sorry," I told him after I pointed the same thing out to him. "I'll bring it back soon."

  "Not a problem. I'm still holding your book hostage, after all. Fair is fair. Feel free to wear it some more, so it smells like you and that perfume."

  He abruptly shut up, apparently fearing he'd said too much, which was probably true. I wanted to laugh the comment off, ease his embarrassment a little, but instead all I could imagine was Seth holding the flannel shirt to his face, inhaling deeply, because it smelled like me. The image was so sexy, so utterly provocative, that I turned slightly away from him, looking out the window to hide my feelings and suddenly heavy breathing.

  What a shameless strumpet I was, I decided as the rest of the car ride proceeded in dead silence. Crying over Roman one minute, suddenly wanting to jump into bed with Seth the next. I was fickle. I gave out mixed signals to men, flitting from one to another, beckoning with one hand and pushing away with the other. Admittedly, the Martin energy ride was fast coming to an end, so most males were starting to look pretty good again, but still... I had no shame. I didn't even know who or what I wanted anymore.

  When Seth parked but refused to come in with me to Emerald City, I felt guilty, knowing he thought that I thought he must be a pervert or something for the perfume comment. I couldn't let that go, couldn't stand the thought of him feeling bad over me. Especially when the perfume remark had been kind of a turn-on. I had to fix things.

  I leaned toward him, hoping the corset top would do half my work for me in smoothing the matter over. "Do you remember that one scene in The Glass House? The one where O'Neill walks that waitress home?"

  He raised an eyebrow. "Um, I wrote that scene."

  "If I recall, doesn't he say something about what a shame it is to abandon a woman in a low-cut dress?"

  Seth stared at me, expression unreadable. Finally, a not-so-dazed smile flickered onto his face. "He says, 'A man who leaves a woman alone in a dress like that is no man at all. A woman in a dress like that doesn't want to be alone.' “

  I looked back at him meaningfully. "Well?"

  "Well, what?"

  "Don't make me spell it out. I'm in this dress, and I don't want to be alone. Come inside with me. You owe me a dance, you know."

  "And you know I don't dance."

  "You think that'd stop O'Neill?"

  "I think O'Neill kind of goes off the deep end sometimes. He doesn't know his limits."

  I shook my head in exasperation and turned away.

  "Wait," Seth called. "I'm coming."

  "Cutting it close, aren't you?" Cody asked me later when we arrived in the cafe of the now closed bookstore, practically running.

  I gave him a quick hug, and he and Seth nodded cordially at each other before the author blended off into the crowd of staff. "It's a long story."

  "Is it true?" Cody whispered in my ear, leaning toward me. "Is Carter hanging around right now?"

  "No, actually. He was, but then he just bailed on me. That's why I'm late. I had to call Seth to pick me up."

  The young vampire's serious mien relaxed. "I'm sure that was a big sacrifice for both of you."

  Ignoring the jibe, I rounded up the troops so the lesson could get under way. As we had observed last time, most were about as ready as they would ever get. We didn't teach anything new, choosing instead to review old techniques, making sure the basics were solid. Seth, as he had stated, did not dance. He had a harder time resisting, however, as most of the staff knew him well by now. Many of the women tried to entreat him. He remained obstinate.

  "He'd dance if you asked him," Cody told me at one point.

  "I doubt it. He's been refusing all night."

  "Yeah, but you're persuasive."

  "Carter implied the same thing. I don't know when I got this reputation as Miss Congeniality."

  "Just ask him."

  Rolling my eyes, I walked over to Seth, noticing his gaze was already on me.

  "All right, Mortensen, last chance. Are you ready to make the switch from voyeur to exhibitionist?"

  He inclined his head toward me curiously. "Are we still talking about dancing?"

  "Well, that depends, I suppose. I heard someone once say that men dance the same way they have sex. So, if you want everyone here to think you're the kind of guy who just sits around and—"

  He stood up. "Let's dance."

  We stepped out, and despite his bold declaration, his nervousness came through loud and clear. His palm was
sweaty as he grasped my hand, his other hand almost too hesitant to fully rest its weight on my hip.

  "Your hand swallows mine up," I teased him gently, easing mine inside his. "Just relax. Listen to the music, and count the beats. Watch my feet."

  As we moved, I had the impression he had done the basic step before. He had no trouble remembering the pattern. His problem was coordinating his feet with the music, a behavior which came instinctually to me. I could tell he literally counted beats in his head, forcefully lining them up with his feet. Consequently, he spent more time looking down than at me.

  "Are you going to come with us when we go out?" I asked conversationally.

  "Sorry. I can't talk and count at the same time."

  "Oh. Okay." I did my best to hide a smile.

  We continued on this way, in silence, until the lesson ended. It never became a natural process for Seth, but he never missed any steps, paying attention to them with steadfast determination and diligence, sweating profusely the entire time. Standing so close to him, I could again feel something akin to static in the air between us, heady and electric.

  I made the rounds with Cody as things closed down, telling everybody goodbye. Seth was one of the last to leave, approaching Cody and me as we walked out the back door.

  "Nice job tonight," Cody told him.

  "Thanks. My reputation was on the line." Seth turned to me. "I hope I redeemed myself with the whole dancing-sex comparison."

  "I suppose there were a couple of notable similarities," I observed, holding a straight face.

  "A couple? What about attention to detail, heavy exertion, lots of sweat, and single-minded determinedness to get the job done and done well?"

  "Mostly I was thinking you just don't talk during sex." Mean perhaps, but I couldn't resist.

  "Well, my mouth has better things to do."

  I swallowed, my own mouth dry. "Are we still talking about dancing?"

  Seth told us good night and left.

  I watched him go wistfully. "Anyone else here feel like swooning?"

  "I sure do," came Carter's jovial voice behind us.

  Cody and I both jumped.

  "Christ," I exclaimed. "How long have you been back?"

  "No time for small talk. Hang on, kids."

  After giving a quick glance around to ascertain we were alone, the angel suddenly grabbed our wrists. I felt that nauseating, rushing feeling again, and the next thing I knew, we stood in a very elegantly decorated living room. I had never seen this place before, but it was beautiful. Coordinated leather furniture adorned the room, expensive-looking art hung on the walls. Opulence. Style. Magnificence.

  The only problem was, the entire place had been trashed. Slashes marred the posh furniture, tables had been knocked 'over, and the art was either askew or defiled or both. On one wall, a huge symbol I didn't recognize had been spray-painted: a circle with one line crossing it vertically and another cutting through at an angle, left to right. The glamour mixed with such desecration left me utterly dumbfounded.

  "Welcome to Chвteau Jerome," Carter announced.

  CHAPTER 20

  "My apologies for the abrupt transport," Carter continued. "Jerome started freaking out that I'd left you alone for so long."

  "I've never 'freaked out' in my life— er, existence, er whatever," mused Jerome, strolling into the room. Studying him, I could believe his words. Dressed immaculately as ever, he held a martini in one hand and looked utterly at ease amid the disarray.

  "Nice place," I told him, still aghast at the damage done to such beauty. "Fixer-upper?"

  The demon's eyes flashed with amusement at my joke. "I do so love having you around, Georgie." He sipped his drink. "Yes, it is a little rough around the edges right now, but no worries. It'll clean up. Besides, I have other domiciles."

  Jerome had always been very tight-lipped about where he lived, and I suspected it was only Carter's intervention that allowed us to even remain here right now. The demon would have never invited us. Walking over to a large bay window, I beheld a magnificent view of Lake Washington, the Seattle skyline glittering beyond it. Based on the angle of my view, I would have wagered money we were in Medina, one of the more elite Eastside suburbs. Only the best for Jerome.

  "So what happened?" I finally asked when it became apparent no one else intended to broach the subject. "Was this a nephilim attack, or did you just throw a party that got out of hand? Because honestly, if it's the last one, I'm going to be really pissed we weren't invited."

  "No such fears," Carter told me, smiling. "Our friend the nephilim did a little redecorating, kindly flashing us when it was over. That's why I abandoned you at Erik's. I would have given you some warning, but when I felt it over here..." He looked meaningfully at Jerome. The demon scoffed in response.

  "You what? Thought I was in danger? You know that's not possible."

  Carter made a nondescript noise of disagreement. "Yeah? What do you call that?" He inclined his head toward the spray-painted symbol.

  "Graffiti," responded Jerome disinterestedly. "It means nothing."

  I walked away from the breathtaking window and its pricey view, looking the symbol up and down. I'd never seen anything like it, and I was familiar with a lot of characters and markings from all types of places and times.

  "It must mean something," I countered. "Seems like a lot of trouble for nothing. Otherwise, he could have just written 'you suck' or something like that."

  "Maybe that's in one of the other rooms," suggested Cody.

  "A punch line worthy of Georgie. You're learning more than dancing."

  Ignoring the demon's attempt to change the subject, I turned to Carter for answers. "What is it? You must know what it means."

  The angel studied me speculatively a moment, and I realized I'd never appealed to him before for serious help. Until our recent roommate stint, most of our interactions had been downright antagonistic.

  "It's a warning," he said slowly, not looking at his demonic counterpart. "A warning of impending disaster. The real phase of a battle about to begin."

  Jerome's finely suppressed control snapped. He slammed the glass down on an off-kilter table, face flushing. "Christ, Carter! Are you insane?"

  "It doesn't matter, and you know it. Everything's going to come out anyway."

  "No," hissed the demon icily, "not everything."

  "Then you tell them." Carter made a grandiose gesture toward the symbol. "You explain and make sure I don't say too much."

  Jerome glared at him, and they locked eyes in their usual way. I'd seen it happen countless times, but upon reflection, I felt pretty sure I'd never actually seen them at such odds with each other before.

  "It might have meant those things at one time," Jerome admitted at last, exhaling in an effort to calm himself. "But not anymore. As I said, it's meaningless now. An archaic scrawl. A charm which, without anyone to believe in it anymore, holds no power."

  "Then why use it at all?" I wondered aloud. "More of the nephilim's bizarre sense of humor?"

  "Something like that. It's to remind me who we're dealing with—as if there was any possible way I could forget." Picking up his sloshed martini, Jerome finished it in one gulp. Sighing, suddenly looking tired, he glanced at Carter. "You can tell them about the other ones if you want."

  The angel's face registered mild surprise at the concession. He looked back up at the marred wall. "This symbol is the second in a set of three. The first is the declaration of battle— a way to sort of psyche out your enemy with what's to come. It looks just like this but with no diagonal. The last symbol marks victory. It has two diagonals and is displayed after the enemy is defeated."

  I followed his gaze. "So, wait... if this is the second, does that mean you've seen the first already?"

  Jerome walked out of the room and returned a moment later, handing me a piece of paper. "You're not the only one who gets love notes, Georgie."

  I opened it up. The paper was the same kind used for my notes.
Displayed on it, in heavy black ink, was a copy of the symbol on Jerome's wall without the diagonal. The first symbol, the declaration, according to Carter.

  "When did you get this?"

  "Just before Duane died."

  I thought back through the weeks. "That's why you didn't push me too hard when he died. You already had a good idea who was responsible."

  The demon shrugged by way of answer.

  "Wait a minute then," exclaimed Cody, coming to look over my shoulder at the note. "If this is the first warning... are you saying that everything that's happened—Duane, Hugh, Lucinda, Georgina—has been part of the 'psyching out'?" The vampire grew incredulous when neither of the higher immortals responded. "What more can there be? What is this 'real phase'? I mean, he's already attacked or killed, what, four immortals?"

  "Four lesser immortals," I supplied, suddenly catching on. I looked back and forth between Jerome and Carter. "Right?"

  The angel gave me a tight-lipped smile. "Right. You guys have been the practice round before the big hit." He gave Jerome another pointed look.

  "Stop it," the demon snapped back. "I'm not a target here."

  "Aren't you? No one spray-painted this on my wall."

  "No one knows where you live."

  "You're not exactly in the yellow pages yourself. You're the mark here."

  "It's a moot point. It can't touch me."

  "You don't know that—"

  "I do know that, and you know it too. There is absolutely no way it can be stronger than me."

  "We need backup after all. Call Nanette—"

  "Oh yes," laughed Jerome harshly. "No one would notice if I pulled her from Portland. Do you have any idea what a red flag that would throw up? People would start noticing, start asking questions—"

  "So what if they do? It's no big deal—"

  "Easy for you to say. What would you know about—"

  "Please. I know enough to know that you're being overly paranoid about..."

  The two went back and forth at each other, Jerome adamantly denying there was any problem, Carter maintaining that they needed to take appropriate precautions. As noted earlier, I had never seen the two of them in such open disagreement. I didn't like it, especially as their voices began to rise in volume. I didn't want to be around if they came to blows or displays of power, having already seen too much of their strength in the last few weeks. Slowly, I backed up out of the living room toward a nearby hallway. Cody, catching my mood, followed.