Authors: Richelle Mead
Succubus On Top (23 page)
“Why do I have to do it?”
“Because you, Georgie, are a lesser power than we are. You are less subject to scrutiny and ramifications than us. It's the difference between a country declaring war and a small rebel faction striking out.”
“Great,” I said, sinking back in my chair. “I'm a faction.”
Carter was smiling again. “Don't you want to help Doug?”
A moment passed. “You know I do.”
“I meant it when I said it'd be dangerous, but if we're careful, you'll come out okay.”
I thought about Doug's black despair and reckless behavior. The thought of this ambrosia “destroying” him clinched it for me. “Yeah, okay. I'll do it. Whatever it is. Dangerous or not.” I paused. “Um, what is it?”
Neither answered.
“Oh come on! You can't expect me to do this and not know what it is.”
“It'll take some prep work,” Carter told me, apparently enjoying my consternation. But there was another expression on his face too . . . pride, I thought. The good kind of pride, like when you thought someone was doing the right thing. Not the bad kind of pride that made you do rash things. “As soon as it's in place, we'll let you know. I'll come find you.”
I made a face. “You'll understand if I don't really find that a satisfying answer.”
“And you'll understand,” retorted Jerome, “that it's the best one you're going to get.”
Carter was a bit nicer. “What you can do in the meantime, however, is try to get access to the supplier. He's the one you'll ultimately have to deal with. Keep schmoozing with Alec. Do what you've got to do.”
I nodded. Schmoozing I could do in my sleep. I felt relieved to be back in familiar waters.
After leaving them, I put the ambrosia assignment on hold and went over to Seth's to play Scrabble, in keeping with a prearranged date. I'd vowed I wouldn't cheat this time, but I supposed that would depend on how desperate the game became. When I arrived, however, I found Seth in no condition to play.
He sat at the desk in his bedroom, brow adorably furrowed as he stared at his computer screen, apparently willing it to do something for him through mental determination alone. His condo had an office, I knew, but unpacked boxes currently filled it, making this room the combination officebedroom. All his essentials in one place. If it had had an attached bathroom, he would have probably never emerged.
“Can you give me . . . like . . . another hour?” he asked absently when he realized I had walked in, not looking at me. “I've just got to finish this chapter.”
It was a moot request. Even if I hadn't been willing to give him another hour, he still would have kept writing. Mountains moved more easily than Seth in the middle of a story line. Happily accommodating, I kissed his cheek and wandered off to the office to find something to read. Sifting through those boxes made it difficult, however. By the time I had several of them emptied, I decided I might as well just go the whole way and do the job right.
I unpacked all of the boxesâeven the ones in his living room. I didn't know how many books that left me with, but it was a lot. My bookstore instincts made me sort them into categories, and that alone was time-consuming. Looking up at one point, I realized almost three hours had passed. I stood up, stretched, and returned to the bedroom.
“Hey,” I said. “We're way past your hour.”
He kept typing.
I slipped my foot out of its sandal, shape-shifted the toenail color to burgundy and ran it up his leg. He jumped.
“Hey!”
“Hey yourself. Sorry to interrupt, but you need food, or you're going to pass out on your keyboard.”
“Wouldn't be the first time,” he said. His eyes strayed, threatening to return to the computer, so I poked him again with my foot. He arched an eyebrow, then grabbed my foot, nearly making me fall over as he pulled me onto his lap. “You know, your toes aren't that compelling. It's not like I want to have sex with them or anything weird like that. I just think they're pretty. So don't think you can have your way on everything now.”
I wiggled out of his grasp. “Say whatever you want. I've got new leverage with you. So, look, can you tear yourself away long enough to go get food?”
It turned out he couldn't, toes or not. Disappointed, I ended up ordering pizza. We ate together and talked, but both of us were in our own worlds. He was with his characters in places I couldn't follow, and I was thinking about the ambrosia. Suddenly, I started laughing.
“What?” he asked, startled.
I told him about the ambrosia and what it did. The news obviously astonished him, but Seth had had some time now to accept the many unseen, supernatural things occurring in the world. I ended my story by saying Carter and Jerome were going to do something about it. I did not mention I would be taking on a large and possibly dangerous role too. There I was, holding back again, but it seemed pointless to get him worried when I had no concrete details yet.
“So, anyway, I was laughing because I was trying to imagine what you'd be like on ambrosia,” I told him.
“Why is that funny? Maybe I could churn out a book a week.”
“Yeah, but I'd never see you again. You'd never bathe or cut your hair. It'd grow down to your waistâso would your beardâand you'd be sitting here in the dark, hunched over, wasting away in your Punky Brewster T-shirt.”
“That's not funny. That's how I plan to spend my retirement. Besides, if I were going to wear the same shirt for the next fifty years, it'd be my Flash Gordon one.” His features shifted to a frown as he chewed. “The entire concept of Doug's problem being âmagically' induced . . .” He shook his head. “It's crazy. And scary. Will they really be able to help him?”
“They will if they can. Carter especially.”
“You always put a lot of faith in him. Seems ironic, given the circumstances.”
I supposed it was, and again, it was kind of new for me. I guess I was just starting to realize that although I might be on Jerome's side, it was Carter who was on
my
side lately. I smiled for Seth.
my
side lately. I smiled for Seth.
“Well. If you can't put faith in an angel, who can you put faith in?”
The muse called to him after dinner, and I let him go, unable to stand against her. I wondered if it would be possible for Seth to date someone who didn't love his books. Few women would be able to handle the competition. And yeah, sometimes it was hard for me to handle the competition too. It was hard enough that Seth wasn't into the livelier things I liked to do, like dancing. But also being denied the low-key things poked at me on occasion.
Knowing his neglect was for the greater good, I returned to my book sorting, which allowed half of my brain to churn over the Alec problem and how I was going to get to
GQ
Poet Guy. Getting ahold of Doug in the evening was never easy, but I'd see him at work tomorrow. He'd offered Alec's number to me once; hopefully he'd be as obliging this time.
GQ
Poet Guy. Getting ahold of Doug in the evening was never easy, but I'd see him at work tomorrow. He'd offered Alec's number to me once; hopefully he'd be as obliging this time.
I finished my cataloging and shelving job around two in the morning. All the books had homes on either the office or living room shelves, and all the books were indexed by genre and author in a way Emerald City might have lauded. The office now had room for the desk.
In the bedroom, Seth still typed in the dark, lit by the glow of his monitor. I kissed his cheek once more and fell asleep in his bed, exhausted.
I awoke hours later to someone kissing my cheek. “Hey,” I murmured drowsily, trying to pull Seth into bed with me. “You're giving me funny ideas.”
He leaned over me and planted a kiss on my nose. Morning sunlight lit up the coppery highlights in his messy hair and perpetual five o'clock shadow. He regarded me fondly, those luscious lips smiling.
“You put my books away. All of them.”
“I had to. Good grief. If anyone at Emerald City found out I was letting that slide, they'd fire me.”
He curled up beside me and put an arm over me. “You're pretty good to me, Thetis, considering what an idiot I am sometimes.”
“Stop making fun of my favorite author, or I'll have to deck you.”
“I mean it. I've lost girlfriends for less than what I did last night.”
“You weren't that bad. I've seen you worse.” I sat up a little. “Hey, how many girlfriends have you had anyway?”
Laugh lines appeared around his eyes, making him even cuter. “It was all research for the books, I swear.”
It was ironic, I realized, that I kept ending up with artistic types. A very long time ago, I'd been married to a man I swore loved his music more than me sometimes. I had loved him for that musical passion and hated it at the same time. Similar scenarios with other mortals had repeated over the centuries. Remembering my thoughts from last night, I worried that Seth might bring out the old green-eyed monster again.
“How'd the chapter turn out?” I asked, mussing his hair further.
“Good. Great even.” He gave me a sweet, bemused look. “I don't suppose . . . I don't suppose you'd ever want to read the manuscripts as I work on them, would you? See how the process works?”
I froze, realizing just what a precious gift he was offering me. Seth had told me once he never let anyone read the early drafts. He didn't want feedback that might influence his own creative flow. It wasn't until he had a complete manuscript and he felt the books were nigh-perfect that he finally allowed his publishing posse to take a look. That he would offer this to me both thrilled and touched me.
“No,” I said softly, smiling. “But thank you. I don't want to interrupt your normal cycle. But maybe . . . maybe when you've got a fairly polished draft ready to send off, I'll take a look then.”
He nodded, returning my smile. Something passed between us then that had nothing to do with manuscripts or book sorting but was fired by both of them nonetheless.
“Here,” he said, standing up. Turning to a nearby chair, he picked up a tray I hadn't even noticed. “Since you fed me last night.”
I looked down as he set the tray across my lap. Pancakesâwith smiley facesâdrowning in maple syrup. Good strong coffee. Even a little vase with two stems of purple irises. Seth had a thing for purple flowers. I touched one of the velvety soft petals.
“You didn't get these from your kitchen. You must have gotten up pretty early to go out.”
He shook his head, looking sheepish. “I never went to bed.”
I therefore wasn't surprised when Seth lay down beside me while I ate and promptly fell asleep. I finished the exquisite breakfast, did the dishes, and left for work, leaving him a note that promised I'd call later.
At the bookstore, I was getting so used to Paige and Warren's absence, it was like they didn't even work there anymore. I found Doug when he arrived, and as hoped, he did indeed give me Alec's numberâthough not without a few jokes at my expense.
I called Alec on my lunch, unsure if he'd be home. He was there and sounded overjoyed to hear from me. Yes, yes, of course he could get more. He was
so
glad I'd liked it. Giving me the address of a coffee shop he'd be at, he told me to stop by right after work.
so
glad I'd liked it. Giving me the address of a coffee shop he'd be at, he told me to stop by right after work.
I showed up there five minutes after my shift ended. The coffee shop was perfectly ordinary, nothing dark or sinister. Hardly the stereotypical rendezvous for a drug transaction. I spotted Alec sitting at a table in the back, but someone was with him. Not wanting to interrupt, I stood in line to order a mocha.
Alec's companion was a young man, younger than him even. Eighteen, if I had to guess. And he was beautiful. He had swept his thick, dark-blond hair into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his face was all clean, strong lines. When he smiled at some comment of Alec's, perfect white teeth showed against the tanned skin. I expected to see this guy in an Abercrombie & Fitch ad soon.
Or maybe not, since he too was apparently wasting his life away. Alec reached into his pocket and gave the guy one of the telltale bags. Happiness and relief shone on the golden boy's face, making him lookâif possibleâeven more attractive. He left. Angrily gripping my drink, I took his chair and forced a cheerful attitude.
“Hey,” said Alec in greeting, clearly in a good mood. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you. You look hot, as always.”
“Thanks. How's it going?”
“Awesome, now.” He grinned broadly. “Fabulous day.” He leaned toward me. “So? What did you think?”
I set my cup down heavily and acquired some little-girl wonder. “You were right . . . it was amazing. It was like I was . . .” I decided a lack of words was better than trying to describe something I hadn't experienced. He was only too happy to help fill in the blanks.
“Better than ever? Who you were meant to be?”
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