It was true. It didn’t scream bridesmaid. Not taffeta or bright orange. Before I could protest further, the saleswoman had already fetched one from the rack, guessing my size with that uncanny ability her kind had.
So, reluctantly, I tried the dress on while Maddie went to her next option. The size wasn’t perfect, but a little shape-shifting neatened it up where it needed to be. Maddie was right. It did look good on me, and when I stepped out, she took it as a done deal that I’d buy it—no, she offered to buy it—and would be in her wedding. The saleswoman, seeing an opportunity, and possibly getting back at me for my tyrannical attitude, had “helpfully” fetched two more dresses for me to try while I waited for Maddie. Maddie claimed she couldn’t stand the thought of me waiting around with nothing to do, so I reluctantly took them into the dressing room. They too looked good, but not as good as the violet.
I was returning them to the saleswoman when my eye caught something. It was a bridal dress. It was made of ivory duchess satin, the fabric wrapping around the waist and halter top. The skirt was draped, pulled into little tiers. I stared. It would have been a disaster on Maddie, but on me…
“Want to try it?” asked the saleswoman slyly. Something told me that bridesmaids covertly trying on brides’ dresses wasn’t a rare phenomenon around here. The desperate and mournful not-getting-married attitude in action.
Before I knew it, I was back in the dressing room, wearing the ivory dress. You were wearing that color the first time we met. Seth had been wrong about that and corrected himself, but for some reason, the words came to me yet again. And the dress looked great. Really great. I wasn’t overly tall but was slim enough that it didn’t matter—and I filled out the top beautifully. I stared at myself in a way I hadn’t with the other dresses, trying to imagine myself as a bride. There was something about brides and weddings that instinctively spoke to so many women, and I shared the impulse as well, jaded succubus or no. The grim statistics didn’t matter: the divorce rates, the infidelity I’d witnessed so often…
Yes, there was something magical about brides, an image fixed into the collective subconscious. I could see myself with flowers in my hands and a veil on my head. There’d be well-wishers and joy, the giddy faith and hope of a beautiful life together. I’d been a bride once, so long ago. I’d had those dreams, and they’d blown away.
I sighed and took the dress off, afraid I might start crying. There would be no wedding for me. No bridal hopes. Not with Seth, not with anyone. Those things were lost to me forever. There was only an eternity alone, no lifelong lovers, only those I shared a night with….
Unsurprisingly, I was kind of depressed for the rest of the day.
Maddie bought the violet dress for me, and I was too glum to protest—which she read as acceptance of my bridesmaid fate. We made it through the rest of our dress stops but didn’t get to the bakeries. By the end of it all, we had four candidates for her dress, which I regarded as good progress.
My mood didn’t abate at work. I holed up in my office as much as I could, seeking solitude and my own dark thoughts. When I finally made it home after that eternity-long day, I found the condo empty and was astonished at how much that hurt me. I wished with all my heart that Roman was around, and it wasn’t even to talk about Simone or other immortal mysteries. I just wanted his company. I just wanted to talk to him and not be alone. He was an infuriating part of my life, but he was also turning into a fixed infuriating part of my life. With a gloomy eternity ahead, that meant something.
I knew better than to wait up for him…but found myself doing it anyway. I lounged on the couch with Grey Goose and the cats, taking some small sweetness from those warm, furry creatures that loved me. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was on, which didn’t cheer me up any. Like the masochist I was, I watched it anyway.
At least, I thought I was. Because suddenly, the loud shriek of a car horn blasted into my ears. I blinked and jerked my head around. I wasn’t on the couch. There were no cats, no vodka. I sat on the railing of my balcony, precariously positioned. The horn had come from below, on the street. One car had nearly swiped another, and the near-victim had honked in his outrage.
I didn’t exactly remember the trip out here. I did, however, remember the force that had drawn me—largely because it was still there. The light and the music—that feeling of comfort and rightness that was so hard to articulate hovered before me, off in the air. It was like a tunnel. No, it was like an embrace, arms waiting to welcome me home.
Come here, come here. Everything will be all right. You are safe. You are loved.
In spite of myself, one of my legs shifted on the railing. How easy would it be to step over, to walk into that sweet comfort? Would I fall? Would I simply hit the hard sidewalk below? It wouldn’t kill me if I did. But maybe I wouldn’t fall. Maybe I’d step into that light, into the bliss that could block out the pain that always seemed to surround me lately….
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
The driver that had nearly been hit had gotten out of his car and was yelling at the other. That driver got out and returned the insults, and a loud tirade began. One of my neighbors on the floor below opened his patio and shouted for them all to shut up.
The argument, that jarring noise, brought me back to myself. Once more, the siren song faded away, and for the first time, I almost felt…regret. Carefully, I climbed off the rail and back to the solidity of the balcony. A fall might not kill me, but good God, it would hurt.
I walked back into the condo, finding everything exactly as I’d left it. Even the cats hadn’t moved, though they looked up at my arrival. I sat between them, absentmindedly petting Aubrey. I was scared again, scared and eerily attracted to what had just happened—and that scared me more.
Despite the vodka tonight, my last encounter had proven alcohol wasn’t to blame. No connection. Yet…it occurred to me there had been a common link all three times. My mood. Each time, I’d been down…sad about my lot in life, seeking reassurance that wasn’t to be found. And that’s when this phenomenon would happen, offering a solution and the comfort I thought was beyond me.
That was bad news for me. Because if this thing was drawn to woe and unhappiness, I had plenty of it to go around.
Chapter 6
I awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon. For a moment, I had the strangest sense of déjà vu. When Seth and I were first getting to know each other, I’d crashed at his place after too much to drink. When I had woken up, I’d discovered a full breakfast spread in his kitchen.
A few moments later, reality sunk in. There was no desk or bulletin board of book notes, no teddy bear in a University of Chicago shirt. It was my own dresser that looked back at me, my own tangled pale blue sheets wrapped around my legs.
With a sigh, I clambered out of bed and walked out to the kitchen, wondering what was going on. To my astonishment, it was Roman playing chef at my stove, both cats sitting at his feet—no doubt hoping for a bit of dropped bacon.
“You cook?” I asked, pouring a cup of coffee.
“I cook all the time. You just don’t notice.”
“I notice you heating up a lot of frozen food. What’s all this?”
He shrugged. “I’m starving. You don’t get a lot of time to eat when you’re on stalking duty.”
I eyed the eggs, bacon, and pancakes. “Well, I think you’ll be good to go for the rest of the day. Maybe the next two days. You sure did make a lot,” I added hopefully.
“No need to be coy,” he said, trying to hide a smile. “You can have some.”
This was the best news I’d heard all day. Of course, I’d only been up for five minutes. Then, last night’s events came slamming into me. “Oh, shit.”
Roman glanced up from where he was flipping a pancake. “Hmm?”
“A funny thing happened last night….” I frowned. “Well, not so funny…”
I explained that mystery force’s reappearance last night, as well as my unexpected swim from t
he other day. Roman listened quietly, the earlier levity rapidly disappearing from his face.
When I finished, he dumped his skillet of eggs into a bowl so hard that the bowl shattered. I took an uneasy step back. “Son of a bitch,” he growled.
“Whoa, hey,” I said. An angry nephilim was nothing I wanted around. “That’s part of a matched set.”
He glared at me, but I knew the anger wasn’t toward me, exactly. “Three times, Georgina. This has happened three fucking times, and I wasn’t around.”
“Why should you be?” I asked in surprise. My surprise then took an odd turn into outrage. “You aren’t my keeper.”
“No, but some entity is invading my home.” I decided not to point out that it was my home. “I should be dealing with that, not chasing some boring succubus for Jerome.”
“Ask, and ye shall receive,” a familiar voice suddenly said. Jerome’s aura washed over us as he materialized by the kitchen table.
“About time,” snapped Roman, that dark look still on his face. “I’ve been waiting forever for you to show up.”
Jerome arched an eyebrow and lit a cigarette. “Forever, huh? It hasn’t even been a week.”
“Feels like it,” said Roman. He handed me a plate of food, and I sat quietly at the table, deciding I should wait for this status report to unfold before delivering my latest problems to Jerome. “You guys should add following Simone to your list of punishments for the eternally damned.”
Jerome smiled and flicked his ashes into a vase of gerbera daisies on my table. I wasn’t thrilled about that, but at least it wasn’t on my floor. “I take it you’ve seen no noteworthy activities? Mei reported the same thing.”
Roman sat down beside me with his own food, setting the plate down with more force than he needed. I winced, but it didn’t break. “She’s done nothing but shop and take victims. Oh, and hit on Mortensen.”
Both of Jerome’s eyebrows rose this time. “Seth Mortensen?”
I started to ask how many Mortensens he knew, but Roman’s next words cut me off. “Yeah, she’s shown up a couple times, attempting some sort of lame seduction.”
My anger started to kindle again and then—
“Wait. A couple times?” I exclaimed. “More than the coffee shop?”
Roman looked at me, a brief glint of apology showing through his angry expression. “Yeah, I didn’t have a chance to tell you. She came to the bookstore while you were out with Maddie yesterday. Very nicely timed with your absence.”
I slammed my fork down on my plate. Really, it was a wonder I had any dishes left. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I kind of didn’t have the chance, seeing as we had bigger problems!”
Jerome had stiffened when Roman mentioned Simone attempting to seduce Seth. The reaction was weird, like he’d been caught by surprise. That was rare for a demon, rarer still for one to show it. Several moments later, he regained his composure, turning his attention to Roman’s comment. “Bigger problems?”
“Georgina’s being stalked,” declared Roman.
“Georgina’s always being stalked.” Jerome sighed. “What is it this time?”
He kept his features neutral, but as we explained the situation, I saw something spark in his eyes…some sort of interest. At the very least, speculation.
Silence fell when Roman and I finished our story. I glanced at him, both of us waiting for my overlord to offer some sort of explanation.
“Your job with Simone is done,” Jerome said at last.
“Thank God,” said Roman.
“You’re going to follow Georgie instead.”
“What?” Roman and I exclaimed in unison.
“Same deal,” added Jerome. “Invisible, no signature. Except when you’re here, of course. Most know you two are roommates. It’d be odd if you disappeared off the face of the earth.”
The last couple times that siren song had shown up, I’d desperately wanted Roman. I should have been glad to have him now, which is why the outrage that followed next was completely irrational.
“But he needs to follow Simone!”
“Oh?” asked Jerome. “Pray tell why? She’s made no contact with anyone from Hell. Either she is here for innocent reasons, or she’s too good at hiding her reports.”
“But…but…she’s following Seth. We need to figure out why!”
“I don’t think it takes a genius to deduce why,” said Jerome dryly.
“We have to stop her, though.”
The demon snorted. “Georgina, do you have any idea how much I don’t care about your ex-boyfriend? There’s more in this universe than your absurd love life—or lack of one.” I flinched. “Especially since he’s sleeping with someone else now. If he’s so in love with her now, Simone shouldn’t be an issue. And don’t glare at me like that,” he added. “You already screwed his soul over when you fucked him last spring. Simone won’t make any difference.”
I gritted my teeth. “I still don’t think—”
“No.” Jerome’s voice was hard, and he was using that tone you didn’t argue with. He turned his attention to Roman. “You’re done with Simone. You’re with Georgie now. Understood?”
Roman nodded, not sharing my outrage. “Understood. Do you know what this is? What’s happening to Georgina?”
“I’ve got a few ideas,” Jerome growled. And like that, he vanished.
“Son of a bitch,” I said.
Roman swallowed a bite of egg and looked remarkably relaxed, compared to his earlier state. “Was that a general statement of frustration or a slander on Jerome?”
“Both. Why do you look so pleased all of a sudden? You were ready to go on a rampage earlier.”
“Because I’m done with Simone. And I get to chase better prey now.”
“And because you don’t care about Seth at all.”
“That too.”
I stared at my food without really seeing it. My appetite was gone. “I need to see him. I need to see her and find out if she’s following him.”
“No good can come of that,” warned Roman.
I didn’t answer. My mood had crashed. I was grateful for Roman’s protection now, but in a lot of ways…well, I wanted to put Seth before myself. I wanted to defend him from…what? Having his life shortened by a succubus? Having his soul further darkened? Or were my motives more selfish…did I just not want him to sleep with another woman? Accepting him and Maddie was hard enough…and yet, if Simone did woo him, would that break up the impending marriage? No, I decided, Seth would stay true to Maddie. He wouldn’t cheat on her. Wouldn’t he? a nasty voice in my head asked. He cheated with you….
“Damn it. I wish you wouldn’t look like that.”
I glanced up at Roman. “Huh?”
“That pathetic look on your face is killing me.” He turned his gaze downward, moving eggs around his plate. With a sigh, he looked back up. “I know where Seth will be today. But I don’t know if Simone will be there.”
My eyes widened. “Where?”
Roman hesitated only a moment later. “The art museum. He mentioned it to Maddie yesterday…. Some exhibit he wanted to see that she doesn’t. He was going to swing by there today. I’m not sure of the time, but Simone might have overheard. If so, it’d be the perfect time.”
I stood up, and my appearance instantly shifted, ready to go. Hair styled long and wavy. Jeans and a T-shirt. Makeup perfect. “Well, let’s go. We need to stake the place out.”
“Whoa there, speedy. Some of us can’t get ready that fast. And some of us aren’t done eating.”
I sat back down, not bothering to hide my impatience. He ate on, pointedly ignoring me and chewing every bite with care. A thought popped up. “Can you hide my signature? I’ll go invisible. Lure her in.”
Roman shook his head in exasperation. “I was hoping you wouldn’t think of that.”
I expected him to refuse me, but to my surprise, he did indeed hide my immortal signature when we finally set out to th
e museum. After shifting invisible, I was as incognito as he was by my side.
It was a pretty day to be out in downtown Seattle. The morning clouds had burned off, and the sun had nothing to hold it back. It was deceptive, though. The sky was a clear radiant blue, but fall’s chill was starting to finally take its grip. So while the weather looked gorgeous through windows, a coat was required once outside.
The Seattle Art Museum—or, as it was affectionately know by locals, SAM—was massive, and its regular collection held exhibits from every place and period imaginable. Roman had told me the exhibit Seth wanted to see was a special one, only in town for a few weeks. It was a display of Late Antiquity jewelry, and I would have wagered good money that Seth was there to do research for Cady and O’Neill.
But when we arrived, there was no sign of Seth. Plenty of tourists—even on a weekday—filled the place, wandering aimlessly and pausing to study or read about the pieces. This period of time was near and dear to me, and I couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. It was the era I’d grown up in, the era I’d spent my mortal days in. Seeing those items—rings, bracelets, and necklaces—was surreal. Many were from the Mediterranean region of the Roman Empire. Sometimes, when I thought about my past, it would make my heart burn. Other times, I felt removed, like I was watching a movie about someone else’s life.
I’d been studying each piece in detail, intrigued at how some had been polished to brightness and others were corroded with time. A gentle nudge at my shoulder made me look up. I saw no one near me and realized it had been Roman. Turning around, I surveyed the gallery and found what—or rather who—he’d spotted. Seth stood on the opposite side of the room, face thoughtful and inquisitive as he studied one of the cases. A notebook and pen were in his hands. He’d come for research, as I suspected.
I studied him with equal fascination. As far as I was concerned, he was as rare and precious to me as any of the jewelry surrounding us. Shit, I thought. I was an idiot if I thought I was over him. Just standing there in the same room, I felt more drawn to him than ever.
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