froze, my antagonism turning to pure fear. When a demon said he was tired of you, it often resulted in being recalled to Hell. Or being smote.
“Jerome…” I tried to assess my best strategy here. Charm? Contrition?
He stepped away and took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t help much. His anger came through loud and clear.
“I’m sending you away. I’m going to outsource you to someone.”
“What?” My anger returned, pushing my fear away momentarily. Outsourcing was a huge insult to a succubus. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do whatever I fucking want. You answer to me.” A lanky guy turned down the hall, heading toward the restroom. Jerome fixed him with a piercing, terrifying look. The guy yelped and hastily headed back the other way. “There’s an archdemon in Vancouver who wants someone to keep an eye on a cult he has an interest in up there.”
“Up there…” My mouth dropped open. “You mean Vancouver, BC? You’re sending me to Canada?” Fuck. I really had gone too far. There was also a Vancouver in Washington. That wouldn’t have been so bad. At least I would have stayed domestic.
“He’d wanted a succubus since he only has one and couldn’t spare her. They’ve got their work cut out for them up there, you know. I almost considered sending them Tawny.” He made a face at the mention of his recently acquired and very, very inept succubus. “But, well, she’s not…optimal. I hadn’t wanted to give up you either, but now I think it’ll be worth missing my useful succubus for a while to get you out of my hair. I need some peace and quiet.”
“Look, Jerome,” I said, hoping I sounded penitent. “What do you want me to do? Get another therapist? I can do that. I’ll get a woman. An ugly one. And I’ll try to lay off the attitude and—”
“That’s my decision, Georgie. You need something to occupy you, and this’ll make Cedric happy. He figures a succubus is the best choice to infiltrate his little devil-worshipping cult.”
“Devil wor—what, you mean like, Satanists?”
“Something like that.”
I stared. “Canadian Satanists? You’re sending me to a group of Canadian Satanists?”
His only answer was a shrug.
“If this were happening to anyone else, it would be hilarious,” I said. “But why are you doing it? Since when do you help anyone—let alone another demon?” Demons tended to be insanely competitive with each other.
Again, Jerome didn’t answer. He took out a cigarette—honestly, if he had his own, why’d he steal mine earlier?—and did the lighting trick again. He seemed a little less tense after taking a deep drag on it.
“Something else is going on,” I said warily. “You’re using me to use him. What’s this really about?”
“Altruism,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Jerome…”
“Georgina,” he returned, eyes hard. “You have no right to question this, not as much as you’ve pissed me off lately. Now go pack your things and brush up on the metric system.”
Chapter 2
I don’t really have anything against Canadians. They’re nice. Really nice. But that didn’t mean I wanted to go curling with them, and there was always a danger that if Jerome was in the right mood, he might decide to make this temporary assignment a permanent one.
I didn’t think he would, though. Underneath all the gruffness, Jerome liked me—inasmuch as a demon could truly like anyone. Admittedly, he’d liked me a little less since Seth had turned my life upside down last fall, but when I wasn’t sporting massive attitude, I think I amused Jerome. Amusing things are few in the face of eternity, so hopefully that would be enough to ensure my job security.
I left Belltown and headed over to Queen Anne, another Seattle neighborhood. I both lived and worked in Queen Anne, and if I was about to disappear for a while, my mortal employer should probably know. Unfortunately, going into work meant facing some unpleasant things that I wasn’t really in the mood for tonight.
“Georgina! What are you doing here?”
Maddie Sato, the Brutus to my Caesar, came scurrying up to me as I entered Emerald City Books and Café. In Maddie’s defense, she hadn’t known Seth and I were dating when they’d slept together. So, it wasn’t like she’d knowingly stolen him from me. That didn’t really change my feelings toward either of them, though.
“I need to see Warren,” I said, suspecting I probably reeked of vodka and smoke. “Is he here?”
She shook her head, making her glossy black hair sway. It was worn in a long, sleek style I’d taught her how to do. “He left about an hour ago. Didn’t want to stick around for closing.”
I glanced at a clock. I’d barely made it in before they locked the doors. I tapped my foot impatiently, wondering if I should call Warren at home. Finally, I asked, “You got a sec to go over some schedule stuff? I’m going to be out for a few days…or maybe more.”
“Sure,” she said, smiling and showing dimples. “You want me to grab Doug too?”
“He’s here?”
Both assistant managers closing in one night. It was a stroke of luck. I headed off to my office while she went to fetch her brother Doug. My desk was organized for a change, and I found the clipboard bearing the schedule for the next couple of weeks. I skimmed it, relieved to see we had a full complement of staff for a change. My immortal friends didn’t understand why I cared so much about this job. There had been days recently—days when I didn’t want to get out of bed because I was so depressed—that I’d wondered the same thing. But the truth was, eternity was an extremely long time, and I’d spent most of my time always occupied with some activity. It was part of my nature; I couldn’t be idle. And sometimes—sometimes—I could get so caught up in the day-to-day affairs of the human world that I could almost pretend for a heartbeat that I was one of them again.
“I don’t think we’ll need anyone to cover me,” I said when I heard the office door open a few minutes later. “Someone’ll just need to take over my—” I looked up.
Maddie had returned, along with Doug, but they weren’t alone. Seth was with them.
All the easy confidence I’d shown in the store, all the brashness and bravado I’d shown at the club…it all shriveled up into a cold, hard knot as I looked at him. Walls slammed down around me. How could he affect me like this, particularly while wearing a Buck Rogers T-shirt? It had been three months. Why wasn’t I over him? Why did I still want to cry or break something whenever I saw him?
“Whoa, Kincaid,” said Doug, partially distracting me from my angst. He glanced at my outfit and raised an eyebrow. “We interrupting your social life?”
I wore a knee-length black trench coat over a short red dress. My makeup was done to seductive perfection, whorish dark eyeliner and lipstick to match the dress. Shape-shifting in the car would have been a snap, but I didn’t feel like I needed to prove anything here. In fact, I kind of reveled in my tramp
