Succubus Shadows (2 page)

“How is that possible?” exclaimed Cody. “I
am
a vampire. I should be exactly what she wants.”

“Yeah, but you don’t look like one,” I said. If Gabrielle had been a Trekkie, he might have had a shot tonight.

“I look exactly like a vampire because I am one! What should I dress up as? Count Chocula?”

The party continued in force for another couple hours, and finally, people began trickling out. Roman and I, playing good hosts, smiled and bade each of them farewell. By the time everyone left, I was weary and more than happy for it all to be over. I’d refused to drink after the balcony incident and now had a headache as a pleasant reminder of my indulgences. Roman looked as exhausted as me as he scanned the messy condo.

“Funny, huh? You throw a housewarming party to show the place off, and then people trash it.”

“It’ll clean up fast,” I said, studying all the bottles and paper plates with remnants of food. Aubrey was licking frosting off a half-eaten cupcake, and I hastily took it away from her. “But not tonight. Help me take care of the perishables, and we’ll do the rest tomorrow.”

“There’s no ‘we’ in ‘clean,’” Roman said.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” I said, covering up some salsa. “And Peter’s right, you know. You really should do more around here.”

“I provide good company. Besides, how can you get rid of me?”

“I’ll get Jerome to,” I warned, referring to his demon father, who also happened to be my boss.

“Sure. Run off and tell on me.” Roman stifled a yawn, demonstrating just how worried he was about his father’s wrath. The annoying part was, he had a point. I couldn’t get rid of him on my own, and I doubted Jerome would really help. Still, I could hardly believe it when Roman did wander off to bed and leave me alone with the cleanup. I hadn’t thought he’d go that far.

“Asshole!” I yelled after him, getting only a slammed door in response. He really wasn’t that bad of a roommate, but our troubled past often made him want to annoy me. It worked.

Fuming, I finished the necessary tidying and dropped into bed a half-hour later. Aubrey and Godiva followed me, lying side by side at the end of the bed. They were a contrast in colors, like some piece of modern art. Aubrey was white with black specks on her head; Godiva was a riot of orange, brown, and black patches. All three of us drifted off to sleep immediately.

Sometime later, I woke to the sound of singing…or, well, that was the closest I could come to describing it. It was the same thing I’d felt earlier, an alluring, haunting pull that spoke to every part of me. Warm and bright and beautiful. It was everywhere and everything, and I longed to have more of it, to walk toward the light that shone with indescribable colors. It felt so, so good—like something I could melt into, if only I could reach it. I had the impression of an entrance, a door I simply had to push open and step through and—

Rough hands gripped my shoulders and jerked me around. “Wake up!”

Like before, the sensory overload vanished. I was left alone in a quiet, empty world. No more siren song. Roman stood in front of me, hands shaking me as his face stared down at me with worry. I looked around. We were in the kitchen. I had no memory of getting there.

“How—what happened?” I stammered.

The face that had taunted me earlier was now filled with concern, something that troubled a small part of me. Why should someone who wanted to kill me be worried about me?

“You tell me,” he said, releasing his grip.

I rubbed my eyes, willing myself to recall what had happened. “I…I don’t know. I must have sleepwalked….”

His face was still drawn and anxious. “No…there was something here….”

I shook my head. “No, it was a dream. Or a hallucination. I had it happen earlier…. I just drank too much.”

“Didn’t you just hear me?” There it was again, fear for me underneath the anger. “There was
something
here, some…force. I felt it. It woke me up. Don’t you remember anything at all?”

I stared off, trying to summon up the light and haunting melody. I couldn’t. “It was…it was exquisite. I wanted…I wanted to go to it…to be part of it…” There was a dreamy, wistful note in my voice.

Roman’s expression grew dark. As a succubus, I was a lesser immortal, one who had once been human. Greater immortals, like angels and demons, had been created at the universe’s beginning. Nephilim were born and fell somewhere in the middle. As such, their powers and senses were greater than mine. Roman could detect things I couldn’t.

“Don’t,” he said. “You feel it again, you pull away. Don’t let it draw you in. Under no circumstances should you go to it.”

I looked back at him with a frown. “Why? Do you know what it is?”

“No,” he said grimly. “And that’s the problem.”

I
tossed and turned the rest of the night. Being visited by a weird supernatural force will do that to you. Besides, I had never fully recovered from the time an über-powerful entity of chaos had merged with me in my sleep and sucked away my energy. Her name was Nyx, and last I’d heard, she was imprisoned. Still, what she’d done to me—and what she’d shown me—had left a lasting impression. The fact that Roman couldn’t identify what had happened tonight was a little unnerving.

So, I woke up bleary-eyed, sporting a massive headache that was probably equal parts hangover and sleep deprivation. Succubi had the rapid healing that all immortals possessed, which meant I must have seriously screwed myself up to have these lingering effects. I knew the headache would pass soon, but I took some ibuprofen to help the process.

The condo was quiet when I shuffled into the kitchen, and despite my efforts to clean up the food last night, I was still surrounded in the tattered and worn-out feel that followed most parties. Godiva, curled up on the back of the couch, lifted her head at my arrival, but Aubrey continued sleeping undisturbed in her spot on an armchair. I started some coffee and then wandered over to my patio, staring out at the sunny day and the Seattle skyline on the other side of the gray-blue water stretching off before me.

A familiar sensation suddenly swept me, like brimstone and red-hot needles. I sighed.

“Kind of early for you, isn’t it?” I asked, not needing to turn around to know Jerome, archdemon of the greater Seattle area and my hellish boss, stood behind me.

“It’s noon, Georgie,” he replied dryly. “The rest of the world is up and around.”

“It’s Saturday. The laws of time and space are different today. Noon qualifies as early.”

I turned around at last, largely because I’d heard the coffee-maker finish. Jerome was leaning against my kitchen wall, immaculately dressed as always in a black designer suit. Also, like always, the demon looked exactly like a circa 1990s version of John Cusack. He could appear as anything or anyone he wanted in this world, but for reasons he kept vague, Mr. Cusack was his preferred shape. I’d gotten so used to it that whenever
Say Anything
or
Grosse Pointe Blank
came on TV, I always had to pause and ask myself, “What’s Jerome doing in this movie?”

I poured a cup of coffee and held up the pot by way of invitation. Jerome shook his head. “I suppose,” he said, “your roommate is also being a sloth and isn’t actually out running errands?”

“That’d be my guess.” I doused my coffee liberally with vanilla creamer. “I used to kind of hope that when he wasn’t around, it meant he was out looking for a job. Turns out I was just setting myself up for disappointment.”

Honestly, I was glad it was Roman that Jerome had come to see. When Jerome was looking for me, no good ever came of it. It always tended to result in some traumatic, world-threatening event in the immortal underground.

I trudged back across the living room, noting that the cats had disappeared upon Jerome’s arrival. Coffee still in hand, I headed to Roman’s room, knocking once before opening the door. I figured as landlady, I had that right. Also, I’d found Roman had a remarkable ability to ignore knocking for large amounts of time.

He was sprawled across his bed, wearing only a pair of navy blue boxers that gave me pause. As I’d noted before, he was terribly good-looking, despite the prickly attitude he’d had since moving in. Seeing him half-dressed always gave me a weird flashback to the one time we’d slept together. Then, I’d have to remind myself that he was probably plotting how to kill me. It went a long way to stifle any residual lust.

Roman’s arm covered his eyes against the sunlight streaming through his window. He shifted, moving the arm slightly, and peered at me with one eye. “It’s early,” he said.

“Not according to your exalted sire.”

A few seconds passed, and then he grimaced as he too sensed Jerome’s immortal signature. With a sigh, Roman sat up, pausing to rub his eyes. He looked about as exhausted as I felt, but if there was one force in this world that could drag him out of bed after a late night, it was my boss—no matter Roman’s bold claims from last night. He staggered to his feet and moved past me in the doorway.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” I exclaimed.

Roman’s only answer was a disinterested wave of his hand as he headed down the hall. I followed him back and discovered Jerome pouring himself a mug of some vodka leftover from last night. Well, it was five o’clock somewhere. He arched an eyebrow when he saw Roman’s scantily clad state.

“Nice of you to dress up.”

Roman made a beeline for the coffee. “Only the best for you, Pop. Besides, Georgina likes it.”

A moment of heavy silence followed as Jerome’s dark eyes studied Roman. I knew nothing about Roman’s mother, but Jerome was the demon who had fathered him thousands of years ago. Technically, Jerome had been an angel at the time, but making the moves on a human had got him fired from Heaven and sent off to work for those down below. No severance package.

Roman occasionally made snide comments about their familial relationship, but Jerome never acknowledged it. In fact, according to both Heaven and Hell’s rules, Jerome should have blasted Roman from the earth ages ago. Angels and demons considered nephilim unnatural and wrong and continually attempted to hunt them to extinction. It was kind of harsh, even with the sociopathic tendencies nephilim tended to have. Roman had been instrumental in saving Jerome recently, however, and the two had struck a deal that allowed Roman to live peacefully in Seattle—for now. If any of Jerome’s colleagues found out about this illicit arrangement, there would literally be hell to pay—for all of us. A good succubus would have told on her rule-breaking boss.

“So what brings you here?” asked Roman, pulling up a chair. “Want to toss the old football around?”

Jerome’s face remained impassive. “I have a job for you.”

“Like one that pays the rent?” I asked hopefully.

“Like one that ensures I’ll continue to allow him to live in the lifestyle he’s accustomed to,” replied Jerome.

Roman had an amused, devil-may-care smile on his face that was typical of him, but I wasn’t fooled. He knew the threat Jerome represented and also knew that part of their deal involved Roman doing errands for his father. Still, Roman made a good show of acting like he was the one doing Jerome a favor. The nephilim gave an unconcerned shrug.

“Sure. I’ve got nothing else going on today. What’s up?”

“We have a new immortal visitor in town,” said Jerome. If Roman’s attitude annoyed him, the demon was just as good at masking his feelings. “A succubus.”

My removed, psychological study of father and son dynamics came to a screeching halt. “What?” I exclaimed, straightening up so quickly that I nearly spilled my coffee. “I thought we were set after Tawny.”

I’d worked the succubus scene solo around here for years until Jerome had acquired another one several months ago. Her name was Tawny, and while she was annoying and pretty inept as succubi went, there was still something rather endearing about her. Fortunately, Jerome had sent her off to Bellingham, keeping her a comfortable hour-and-a-half drive from me.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Georgie, but this one’s not here to work. She’s here…as a visitor. On vacation.” Jerome’s lips twisted with bitter amusement.

Roman and I exchanged looks. Immortals could certainly take personal vacations, but clearly, there was more to this.

“And?” asked Roman. “She’s really here because…?”

“Because I’m sure my superiors want to check up on me after the recent…incident.”

His words were delicate, with a very subtle warning not to elaborate on said incident. It was the one Roman and I had rescued him from—a summoning that had imprisoned Jerome as part of a demonic power play. Letting yourself get summoned was embarrassing for a demon and could call his territorial control into question. Hell sending someone to survey the situation wasn’t that crazy.

“You think she’s spying to see if you can still run things?” asked Roman.

“I’m certain of it. I want you to follow her around and see who she reports back to. I’d do it myself, but it’s better if I don’t appear suspicious. So I need to stay visible.”

“Lovely,” said Roman, voice as dry as his father’s. “There’s nothing I want to do more than trail a succubus around.”

“From what I hear, you’re pretty good at it,” I piped in. It was true. Roman had stalked me invisibly a number of times. Lesser immortals like me couldn’t hide the telltale signature that wreathed all of us, but Roman had inherited that ability from Jerome, making him the perfect spy.

Roman shot me a wry look, then turned back to Jerome. “When do I start?”

“Immediately. Her name is Simone, and she’s staying down at the Four Seasons. Go there and see what she does. Mei will relieve you off and on.” Mei was Jerome’s second-in-command demon.

“The Four Seasons?” I asked. “Is Hell paying for that? I mean, we’re in a recession.”

Jerome sighed. “Hell’s
never
in a recession. And I didn’t think your droll commentary started until after you’d finished your coffee.”

I showed him my cup. It was empty.

Jerome sighed again and then vanished without warning. He apparently had no doubts that Roman would follow his orders.

Roman and I stood there for several quiet seconds, during which both cats resurfaced. Aubrey rubbed against Roman’s bare leg, and he scratched her head.

“Guess I should shower and get dressed,” he said at last, rising to his feet.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” I said. “And won’t you be invisible anyway?”

He turned his back to me and walked off down the hallway. “I was thinking of dropping off some job applications when Mei gives me a break.”

“Liar,” I said. I don’t think he heard.

It wasn’t until the shower kicked on that I realized I should have asked Jerome about that weird sensation last night. It was so odd; I didn’t even know how to describe it. The more I pondered it, the more I wondered if it had been alcohol-induced. Admittedly, Roman claimed he’d sensed something, but he’d drank as much as me.

And speaking of jobs…my kitchen clock was telling me I needed to head off to mine. One thing about this condo was that the skyline view had come at the cost of work convenience. My old apartment had been in Queen Anne, the same neighborhood that Emerald City Books and Café resided in. I used to be able to walk to work, but that was impossible from West Seattle, meaning I had to allow commuting time.

Unlike Roman, I had no need to physically shower and change—not that I wouldn’t have liked to. I found human routines comforting. A brief burst of succubus shape-shifting cleaned me up, putting me in a work-appropriate peach sundress and arranging my light brown hair into a loose bun. Roman didn’t surface before I had to leave, so I grabbed another cup of coffee and left him a note asking if it would kill him to take out the garbage before he went off to play secret agent.

My headache and the last effects of the hangover were gone by the time I walked into the store. It was abuzz with late afternoon shoppers, people out running Saturday errands and tourists who had wandered over from the Space Needle and Seattle Center down the street. I dropped my purse off in my office and then did a managerial sweep of the store, satisfied that everything was running smoothly—until I noticed we had a line of eight people and only one cashier.

“Why are you alone?” I asked Beth. She was a long-time employee and a good one, answering my question without even looking up from her customer’s order.

“Gabrielle’s on break, and Doug isn’t…feeling well.”

Memories of the vodka competition came back to me. I grimaced, feeling both guilty and smug. “Where is he?”

“Over in erotica.”

I felt my eyebrows rise but said nothing as I turned away and walked across the store. Our small erotica section was bizarrely stuffed in between automotive and animals (amphibians, to be precise). And crammed in between the two shelves of the erotica section was Doug, sitting on the floor with his head resting facedown on his knees. I knelt beside him.

“Hair of the dog time?” I asked.

He lifted his head and brushed black hair out of his face. His expression was miserable. “You cheated. You’re like half my size. How are you not in a coma?”

“Older and wiser,” I said. If only he knew just how old. I took hold of his arm and tugged it. “Come on. Let’s go to the café and get you some water.”

For a moment, he looked like he’d resist, but a valiant effort soon followed. He even managed not to stagger too much as I led him to the store’s second floor, which was half books and half coffee shop.

I grabbed a bottle of water, told the barista I’d pay for it later, and started to drag Doug to a chair. As I scanned around, I nearly came to a halt, causing poor Doug to stumble. Seth was sitting at a table, laptop spread open in front of him. This was his favorite place to write, which had been nice when we dated and now was…awkward. Maddie sat with him, purse in hand and light coat on. I recalled that we started at the same time today. She must have just arrived.

They waved us over, and she gave her brother a chastising look. “Serves you right.”

Doug took a long gulp of water. “Whatever happened to sisterly love?”

“I still haven’t forgiven you for the time you shaved my dachshund.”

“That was like twenty years ago. And that little bastard had it coming.”

I smiled out of habit. Doug and Maddie’s bantering was usually must-see TV for me. Today, Seth held my attention. It had been easier to ignore him last night while in the throes of alcohol, easy to pretend I’d grudgingly accepted him moving on to Maddie. But now, in the cold light of sobriety, I felt that old ache stir within my chest. I swore I could smell the scent of his skin, his sweat mingled with the woodsy apple soap he used. Sunlight from the café’s large windows infused his messy brown hair with copper, and I could perfectly recall what it had been like to stroke the lines of his face, the smooth skin of his upper cheek and stubble on his chin.