Succubus Heat

Book 4: Georgina Kincaid

by Richelle Mead

Genres: Contemporary Fantasy; Paranormal Romance; Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

Georgina Kincaid has been a bad, bad succubus . . .



. . . which should be a good thing. But lately, thanks to her foul mood over breaking up with bestselling writer Seth Mortensen, she's been so wicked that Seattle's über-demon Jerome, decides to "outsource" Georgina to a rival—and have her spy for him in the process.



Being exiled to the frozen north—okay, Vancouver—and leaving Seth in the cozy clutches of his new girlfriend is unpleasant enough. Then Jerome is kidnapped, and all immortals under his control mysteriously lose their powers. One bright spot: with her life-sucking ability gone, there's nothing to keep Georgina from getting down and dirty with Seth—nothing apart from his girlfriend that is. Now, as the supernatural population starts turning on itself, a newly mortal Georgina must rescue her boss and figure out who's been playing them—or all hell will break loose. . .

Release date: August 25, 2015

Publisher: Zebra Books

Print pages: 354

Sample

Sleeping with my therapist was a bad idea.

I knew it too, but I couldn’t really help it. There were only so many times I could hear “Why don’t you explain that” and “Tell me how you feel.” So, I finally snapped and decided to show the guy how I felt. I’ve gotta say, for a decent guy who had never cheated on his wife, he wasn’t that hard to take advantage of. And by “not hard,” I mean “ridiculously easy.” His pseudo morals gave me a strong succubus energy fix, and when you consider that what we did was probably the most productive thing that ever took place on his couch, it was almost like I did a good deed.

Still, I knew my boss was going to be pissed, seeing as he was the one who’d ordered me to seek counseling in the first place.

“Do not tell Jerome,” I warned my friends, tapping my cigarette against the ashtray. “I don’t want to deal with that kind of fallout.”

My friends and I were sitting at a booth in Cold July, an industrial club down in Seattle’s Belltown district. The place was dark and loud, with crisscrossing pipes on the walls and ceiling forming the bulk of the décor. Because it was a private club, it didn’t have to adhere to the city’s public smoking ban, which was a perk for me. In the last few months, I’d found nicotine was one of the essential things helping me cope. Other things on the essential list: vodka, Nine Inch Nails, a steady supply of moral men, and an all-purpose bitchy attitude.

“Look, Georgina,” said my friend Hugh. He was an imp, a type of hellish legal assistant who bought souls for our masters and did assorted middle-management tasks. He had dark-cropped hair and was big without being fat. “I’m no expert in mental health, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that probably wasn’t a helpful step on the road to healing.”

I shrugged and let my eyes scan the crowded room for potential victims. There were some pretty good pickings here. “Well, he wasn’t that good. At therapy, I mean. Besides, I don’t think I need it anymore.”

Silence met me, inasmuch as silence could meet me in a place so noisy. I turned back to my friends. Hugh was making no pretense of hiding his you’re fucking crazy look. Our vampire friends, Peter and Cody, at least had the decency to avert their eyes. I narrowed mine and put out the cigarette.

“I don’t suppose,” said Peter at last, “that this is anybody you’d maybe, uh, like to date long term?”

“Yeah,” agreed Cody, eyes wide and hopeful. “I bet a therapist would be a great listener. And you wouldn’t even have to pay for it.”

“My insurance pays for it,” I snapped. “And I don’t really appreciate your passive-aggressive attitude about my boyfriend.”

“It’s not that passive,” said Hugh. “You could do better, sweetie.”

“The guy’s corrupt and going to Hell. How is this a problem for you? And you didn’t like my last boyfriend either. Maybe you should stop worrying about my love life and go back to figuring out how to get your latest secretary into bed.”

In what had to be a weird twist of the universe, none of my friends liked my current boyfriend, a dark magician named Dante. Dante’s morals were pretty nonexistent, and he owned stock in bitterness and cynicism. That would make you think he’d fit in perfectly with this group of damned souls, but for whatever reason, he didn’t.

“You aren’t meant to be with someone bad,” said Cody. We were all immortal now but were considered “lesser immortals.” That meant we had once been human before selling our souls into Hell’s service. Cody was young compared to the rest of us in our little circle. Hugh claimed almost a century. Peter and I had millennia. As such, there was almost a naïveté about Cody, a charming idealism that rivaled the kind I used to have.

It had been shattered when my previous boyfriend, a human named Seth, had left me for a friend of mine. Seth was a good soul, quiet and infinitely kind. He’d made me believe in better things, like that maybe there was hope for a succubus like me. I’d thought I was in love—no, I had been in love. Even I could admit that. But as a succubus, I brought a dangerous element to any relationship. When I had sex with a guy (or a girl—it worked either way), I stole their life energy, which was the power that fueled every human soul. It kept me alive and sustained my immortal existence. The purer the guy, the more energy I took. The more energy I took, the more I shortened his life. With Dante, I had almost no effect. He had little energy to give, so our sex life was relatively “safe,” and I therefore sought my fixes from meaningless guys on the side.

With Seth…well, that had been a different story. Sleeping with him would have had very detrimental effects—so I’d refused to do it. For a while, we’d lived on love alone, our relationship being about a lot more than a physical act. Over time, however, that had taken its toll, as had a number of simple relationship complications. Things had finally blown up when Seth had slept with my friend Maddie. I think he’d done it to encourage me to break up, hoping to spare me future pain. Whatever the initial intent, he and Maddie had actually gone on to establish a fairly serious relationship in the following months.

I hadn’t taken that very well.

“There’s no pleasing you guys,” I growled, beckoning the waiter for another drink. He ignored me, irritating me further. “You don’t like good ones. You don’t like bad ones. What the fuck does it take?”

A new voice suddenly cut into our circle. “Please tell me we’re discussing your romantic hijinks, Georgie. There’s nothing I enjoy more.”

There he was, standing beside our table: my boss Jerome, archdemon of Seattle and its greater metropolitan area. I glared. I didn’t appreciate the mocking tone—or him calling me Georgie. He sat down beside Hugh, and the waiter I’d been trying to summon dashed over immediately. We ordered a new round of drinks.

Jerome was clearly in a good mood today, which always made our lives easier. He had on a black designer suit, and his hair was styled exactly the same as John Cusack’s had been in a recent TV interview I watched. That probably bears mentioning: Jerome’s human body of choice was a clone of John Cusack. Succubi can change shape because that’s part of what helps us with seduction. Demons can change shape simply because—like angels—they’re insanely powerful beings who have been around since the beginning of time. They’re “greater immortals.” Because of a weird fan obsession that he adamantly denied, Jerome chose to interact in the mortal world looking like the actor. The strange thing was that when we were out like this, humans never seemed to notice the resemblance.

“You haven’t been out with us in a while,” I pointed out, hoping to change the subject. “I thought you’ve been busy with demon stuff.” Rumor had it that Jerome was sparring with another demon, though none of us knew the details.

He took one of my cigarettes out of the pack without asking. A moment later, the end of the cigarette lit on its own. Show-off.

“Things have actually taken a pleasant turn,” he said. He inhaled deeply and then let the smoke swirl around him. “One less thing to deal with. I’d hoped the incessant babbling about your romantic woes was also going away, but I suppose that’s too much to hope for. Are you still with that charlatan?”

I threw up my hands. “Why does everyone hate Dante? You guys should be embracing him as a brother.”

Jerome considered, dark eyes thoughtful. “He annoys me. You can do better.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said.

“Maybe she’d see that if she’d stop doing stupid shit like sleeping with her therapist,” noted Hugh, in what was apparently supposed to be a helpful tone.

I turned on him, eyes wide. “Did you listen to anything I just said?”

“Plenty,” he said.

Meanwhile, Jerome’s lazy, pleased expression disappeared. He fixed his gaze on me, eyes burning like flame yet inexplicably making me feel cold all over. He smashed the cigarette out and shot up from his seat. Grabbing my arm, he jerked me up from my own spot and started dragging me from the table.

“Come with me,” he hissed.

I stumbled with him out to the hall that led to the restrooms. Once out of the sight of others, he pushed me against a wall and leaned toward me, face filled with fury. It was a sign of his agitation that he was behaving like a human. He could have simply transported both of us to some isolated place.

“You fucked your therapist?” he exclaimed.

I gulped. “I wasn’t making much progress.”

“Georgie!”

“Why is this a problem? He was a good soul. I thought that was what you wanted me to do!”

“I wanted you to get this fucking chip off your shoulder that you’ve had ever since that boring mortal dumped you.”

I flinched. It was kind of a weird thing. I’d been so depressed after the Seth breakup that Jerome had finally flipped out and told me to go seek help because he was tired of listening to me “bitch and moan.” The strangeness of a demon encouraging counseling for one of his employees wasn’t lost on me. But honestly, how could he understand? How could he understand what it was like to have your heart smashed? To be ripped from the person you loved most in the world? My whole existence had lost meaning, and eternity had seemed impossible to bear. For weeks, I wouldn’t go out or talk much to anybody. I’d isolated myself, lost in my own grief. That was when Jerome had thrown up his hands and demanded I snap out of it.

And I had, kind of. I’d swung the other way. I’d suddenly become angry—so, so angry at the way life had treated me. Some of my misfortunes were my own fault. But Seth? I didn’t know. I didn’t know what had happened there, and I felt wronged by the world and the lifetimes of hurt it kept giving me. So, I’d started getting back at it. I’d stopped caring. I’d thrown myself into full succubus mode: seeking out the most moral men I could, stealing their life, and breaking their hearts with little remorse. It helped with the pain. Sometimes.

“I’m doing what I’m supposed to!” I yelled. “I’m scoring soul after soul. You have nothing to complain about.”

“You have a bitchy attitude and keep picking fights with everyone—and you aren’t getting better. I’m tired of it. And I’m tired of you.”

I 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.”

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 look tonight.

“Apparently this is my social life, if I’m pathetic enough to come in on a Saturday night.” I forced myself to focus on Doug and Maddie only, trying hard not to look at Seth’s soft, coppery brown hair or gentle eyes. Why did he have to be here of all nights? The answer: he was here every night. He was an author and did his best work in coffee shops. When we’d broken up, he’d tried to tactfully find another and stay away from me, but Maddie—oblivious to his reasons—had begged him to stay at the bookstore’s.

“Where are you going?” asked Maddie. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said brusquely. “Long story.”

I beckoned Maddie and Doug to the clipboard, explaining again how I was pretty sure the store would be fine without my labor, so long as they could cover the tasks I did as manager. We sketched out a brief list of my responsibilities, like payroll and inventory, and began divvying them up.

Doug tapped the list. “I’ve done all these before, at one time or another. They’re no problem. I’ll take the first half.” He elbowed his sister. “What about you? You gonna take the rest and pull your share here?”

Maddie pursed her lips. She was immensely talented but suffered from bouts of insecurity, which I’d repeatedly told her was ridiculous. She’d improved a lot over the months—again, thanks to me—but still faltered. “I didn’t realize you did so much. I hope I can learn it all.”

“Stop playing coy. I’ll teach you,” said Doug. “You’ll be as good as Kincaid in no time.”

“Yeah,” I said dryly. “We’re practically interchangeable anyway.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Seth shift uncomfortably.

“The whole thing seems kind of sketchy, though,” remarked Doug, tilting his head so that his black hair fell away from his face. “You’re going to be gone, but you’re not sure when or how long? I thought you were the reliable one around here.”

“It’s…family stuff,” I told them. “Just gotta be dealt with. Besides, now you can have a chance to be responsible. You should be thanking me, Doug.” He stuck his tongue out at me.

“Is Warren going to be okay with it?” asked Maddie, still fretting on my behalf.

“Let me deal with Warren,” I assured her.

Doug scoffed at that, but Maddie didn’t catch on. Warren, the store’s marginally moral owner, had been a longtime sex buddy of mine. He gave me about as much energy as Dante, but he was convenient and suited my mood lately. I’d stopped our tryst while dating Seth but had since returned to old habits. Doug had known about my affair with Warren then and now but was tactful enough to leave me to my own choices, aside from the occasional bit of eye rolling. I suspected Seth knew what was going on too, but I didn’t care. Warren wasn’t going to give me any grief about taking time off. I was too good at what I did, both at work and in the bedroom.

We shuffled one shift where I was supposed to have closed, and then I tossed the clipboard back on its pile, suddenly needing to get out of there as soon as possible. “Alright. Thanks, team. I’ll leave you to your work.”

“Off to hit the town?” asked Doug, still amused. “I can join you in about a half-hour. I know a killer party.”

I shook my head. “Already hit the town. I’m heading home.”

“Loser,” he called after me.

Maddie wished me well with my mysterious time off, and then I left them, walking through the store and exchanging greetings with my other co-workers as they scurried around with their closing tasks. I’d nearly made it to the door when I heard someone call my name. I turned and saw Casey hurrying toward me. She was twenty or so and went to the University of Washington. She’d worked here almost the entire time she’d been in college and was one of our best employees. So, I stopped and forced a smile, my eyes straying longingly toward the door.

“Hey, what’s up?”

She grinned, dark eyes sparkling. “I wanted to know if you were going to go to my party next weekend,” she said. “You never answered the e-mail.”

I didn’t remember any e-mail, but then, I’d been pretty trigger-happy with the delete key lately. “I didn’t get it,” I lied. “What’s going on?”

“It’s my graduation party. This Sunday.”

I frowned. “It’s April.”

“I’m graduating early. I got all my credits finished up, so I don’t have to do spring quarter. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Whoa,” I said, actually impressed. “That is cool. Math, right?”

“Math and Latvian.”

“Why on earth—never mind.” Now was not the time to pursue why someone of Filipino heritage was studying Baltic languages. “I wish I could go, but I’m leaving town tomorrow for some family stuff and don’t know when I’ll be back. I’m really sorry.”

Casey’s face fell a little, but she told me she understood. And like Maddie, she wished me well and hoped my “family” business would be taken care of easily. That made two of us. She left me and went to finish her closing tasks.

As soon as I cleared the store’s door and was outdoors, I stopped and exhaled. Breezy night air washed over me. Being in Seth’s presence was smothering. It stirred up too much in me. Even while talking business and numbers with Doug and Maddie, most of my attention had been on Seth—exactly how far away he stood from me, the way he smelled, the way his messy hair stuck up today. Everything else had been background noise compared to him.

Reaching into my purse with shaking hands, I pulled out my cigarettes, desperately needing one for the walk home. I’d smoked for a century or so and stopped ten years ago, something I’d been very proud of, even though I was immune to the effects. Stress had driven me to pick up the habit again. I felt a little bad about subjecting others to secondhand smoke, but honestly, smoking was the least of my problems right now.

“Fuck.” I flicked the switch on my lighter and got nothing. Three more flicks produced similar results. Holding the lighter up to my ear, I shook it. Nothing. It was out of fluid. “Fuck,” I repeated. I only lived a few blocks away, but somehow, that walk was now going to be agony.

Suddenly, I heard what sounded like a boot scuff around the corner of the building. Frowning, I took a few steps forward, wondering if anyone was there. This area was pretty safe, but Lower Queen Anne still had its share of vagrants. Yet, when I glanced around the corner, there was no one there.

There was, however, a pack of matches lying on the ground.

Kneeling down, I picked the book up and examined them. Mark’s Mad Martini Bar. I’d been there a long time ago. It was in Upper Queen Anne, not too far away if you didn’t mind trekking up the hill. It wasn’t unreasonable that a pack of their matches would find their way here. What was weird was that the matches showed up right when I needed them.

Behind me, I heard the store’s door open. “Georgina?”

I rose and turned sharply around. Seth.

“Hey,” I said, hoping for blandness. The smothering feeling returned.

Light from inside the store lit up his features in the twilight, and I ate up every line and angle of his face. His eyes looked dark in the dimness, but in full light, they were brown infused with amber. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, and his gaze wouldn’t meet mine. It was painfully reminiscent of how he’d been when we first met, too shy to look directly at me.

“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he said after several awkward moments.

I turned the matches over in my hand a couple of times and then placed them in my purse’s outer pocket. “I’m fine,” I said, keeping my voice cool and distant.

“It’s just…” He relaxed slightly and gave a small, rueful laugh. “When you’re vague about your activities and mention ‘family,’ it usually means immortal business. And immortal business always means trouble.”

I started to smile, then immediately squelched it. “Yeah, it does, and believe me, it’s a great one this time.” Even after everything that had gone down between us, there was such a comfort and familiarity with him that I immediately wanted to launch in and recap the story for him. I could already see us both laughing at the idea of Canadian Satanists. I could perfectly picture the way Seth would shake his head in exasperation. But it wasn’t to be. I was too hurt and too proud to even allow him friendship, so I just shrugged and said, “But it’ll work out. It always does.”

“Yeah…but usually not without a lot of hassle. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

“You don’t have to be.” Not anymore. “I’m not in any danger. Mostly just annoyed.”

He opened his mouth to speak, and I knew the gesture. He wanted to argue that there was still cause for concern—but times had changed. He swallowed and let the comment go. More silence fell. I knew I should leave, but somehow, I couldn’t make myself do it. He apparently couldn’t either. “You…you look really great tonight,” he said at last, still fumbling for conversation.

There was a catch in his voice. He knew my looks tonight had to do with more than just my body and outfit. The energy I’d stolen from sleeping with the therapist wreathed me. Life and its power were irresistible to all creatures, mortal and immortal alike. Immortals could literally see that life glowing around me. To mortals, I simply looked beautiful. Unearthly. Perfect.

For the sake of politeness, I pretended he was complimenting me for normal things. “Thanks. I was out with the others when all this…stuff…went down. It’s kind of put a damper on my partying, though.”

He nodded by way of answer and shifted so that he actually made eye contact. I wished he hadn’t. My heart melted inside me, and I felt a sob building in my chest. Desperate for something to do, I took out the serendipitous matches and lit the cigarette I’d been holding the whole time. I took a long drag and exhaled. Seth stepped back. He wasn’t a fan of smoking. It was like I suddenly had armor.

“Well,” I said, feeling bolder, “I should go home and pack. See you around.”

I turned and had only taken a step when he called out to me. “Georgina?”

I glanced back. “Yeah?”

“Do you…um…” He faltered, and again, I was reminded of that long-ago Seth. Bittersweet feelings burned within me. “Do you need someone to feed your cat?”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “No, but thanks. Cody’ll do it.” I spoke the next words, fully knowing they’d inflict damage. “Or Dante will.”

Seth flinched, and somehow, I felt both triumphant and sad at the same time. “No problem,” he said haltingly. “Just thought I’d, you know, check.”

“Thanks,” I said again. We held each other’s gazes a few more moments, and then I turned away and walked off into the night.

I neither packed nor called Dante when I got home. I was exhausted. Talking to Seth had been too depressing. I lived too close to the bookstore, I decided. What had once been convenient now felt oppressive. A few blocks simply wasn’t enough distance between Seth and me. I kind of wished Emerald City had another branch somewhere that I could work. In lieu of that, maybe I was the one who needed to find a new residence. My lease here was ending soon, and until now, I’d never considered anything except renewing. Moving was a startling—and weirdly appealing—thought, and I pondered it as I drifted off to sleep that night, my cat Aubrey snuggled against my legs.

The next morning, I had to scramble to pack my things. Jerome hadn’t given me any specific time to be in Vancouver, only “soon.” I decided not to test the exact terms of that. Packing didn’t take long, fortunately. I could shape-shift any clothing I wanted, but I had some favorites I preferred to just take with me. It was another lingering human habit. There were also cosmetics and other toiletries I wanted with me; I liked to do my own hair and makeup if I had the time.

I was pouring my third cup of coffee in the kitchen when I felt the tingle of immortal signatures appear in my living room. Only a higher immortal, like a demon or angel, could directly teleport in, and I immediately recognized these two. Grace and Mei.

They were Jerome’s lieutenant demonesses. Heaven ran its agenda in a haphazard way, but ours was carefully organized. Territory was parceled out to archdemons, who in turn controlled a network of subordinate demons and lesser immortals like me and my friends: succubi, vampires, and imps. Jerome handled the big issues in the area, went to meetings with the demons who were above him, and was in charge of discipline. Grace and Mei handled the minutiae and paperwork and also kept an eye on the far reaches of Jerome’s territory, areas he was too busy for and uninterested in. His full jurisdiction actually stretched along the coast of western Washington, though his base of operation was the Seattle metropolitan area. That was also where most of his staff was located. He only kept an occasional eye on the outskirts and left it to Grace and Mei to keep him apprised of what occurred there.

For whatever reason, the demonesses always wore matching clothing. Today they sported black pantsuits, tailored to a perfect fit. Grace was blond and Mei black-haired, but their hairstyles were also similar: bluntly cut at the chin. Both wore brick-red lipstick.

“Good morning, Georgina,” said Grace.

“We’re here with last-m. . .