Succubus Heat gk-4

by Richelle Mead

  Locating addresses from Dante's list of names required a little sleuthing here and there, but for the most part, I didn't have much difficulty finding them. Unfortunately, once found, these magicians weren't exactly helpful.

  One of the ones I visited knew me. She was familiar with Hell's local servants, and while she gave me a small degree of respect, she was as hesitant to answer questions as Dante had insinuated. Two of the other names were people who didn't know me, and that immediately created a problem. With my succubus powers shut off, I had no immortal signature, and both of these people were the types who could sense that. Me coming in and claiming to be a succubus was met with scorn and disbelief. I managed to glean some information from them but nothing of any use.

  Equally difficult was that not only could they not sense me, I couldn't sense them. Admittedly, a succubus didn't have the same ability to gauge human power the way a full-fledged demon could, but I could occasionally sense magic around a person or object. Today, I was completely blind. I had to rely on my strength to read people, but these dark magicians were as good at cons as Dante. They were well-versed in the art of concealing the truth.

  It was almost noon by the time I visited the last name, a guy named Greg. I felt pretty discouraged by this point and even cracked and had a cigarette along the way. Greg had no storefront like Dante and mostly worked his spells out of his house, a small bungalow in Wallingford. When he answered the door, his disheveled state told me I'd woken him up. On the bright side, he recognized me, which meant I wouldn't have to convince him I was a succubus.

  "What do you want?" he asked suspiciously. He was built big and could have had an impressive physique if he'd ever gone to the gym. It was obvious he hadn't.

  "I wanted to talk to you about demon summoning."

  "I don't know anything about it."

  He started to shut the door. I stuck my foot out to block it. "Wait. Do you know anyone who would?"

  "No. And even if I did, what makes you think I'd tell you?" He tried to close the door again, then paused. He narrowed his already too-small eyes at me. "There's something weird about you. No aura."

  I didn't answer right away. "Maybe you're losing your touch."

  This actually brought a small smile. "Not likely. What happened? Who got summoned?"

  "No one. And even if they did, what makes you think I'd tell you?" I mimicked.

  He laughed, a guttural sound that came from low in his throat. When the laughter faded, he studied me for several long seconds, face cunning and speculative. "Okay. I'll talk to you." He pushed the door open. "Come on in."

  I gingerly stepped into his living room. The place was a disaster. Dirty dishes were piled on the coffee table, the remains of food hardened and crusty. Dust coated every piece of furniture, and the wood floor looked like it hadn't been swept since the last century. Uneasily, I wondered if my new humanlike body was susceptible to germs.

  Several books were piled on the couch, their covers meant to look sinister in shades of black and red with drawings of pentagrams. It put me in mind of Evan's faux Satanic accoutrements, though as hard as it was to believe, Evan had a thousand times more class than this guy.

  Greg offered me neither a chair nor refreshments, which was fine by me. He stood in front of me, arms crossed. "Well? What do you want to know?"

  "I want to know if you've done any demon summoning lately."

  "Not that any demons have been summoned, of course."

  "This is speculative," I replied with a simpering smile. I studied as much of his home as I could while I spoke. Beyond him, I could see an equally messy kitchen with a gas stove and magnet-covered refrigerator.

  "You think if I'd summoned a demon, I'd be living like this? Fuck, I'd have plasma-screen TVs and concubines."

  I recalled the discussion with my friends, noting that any human who'd summoned Jerome would simply keep the demon hidden and not use it for personal gain and errands. Still, if Greg had summoned Jerome on behalf of another demon, there would have been some reward involved. Maybe it wouldn't entail TVs or concubines, but it seemed like there'd be some sign of a windfall here. Maybe he'd gotten a Swiss bank account.

  "Okay. You know anyone who recently acquired concubines?"

  "Nope. But I can give you some names of people who'd be more likely." He listed two of the magicians I'd already visited.

  "I've talked to them."

  "Sorry. Not my problem." My eyes returned to the books on the couch. I stepped toward them. "May I?"

  "Knock yourself out."

  I picked up one of the books, skimming through it in hopes of finding information about summoning. Nope. It was fluffy "evil" stuff, exactly like the Army of Darkness' propaganda. The second book proved the same. The third, however, was a legitimate spell book, filled with the kind of dark rites Dante practiced. Hopeful, I flipped through the pages one by one. It had some vile contents, but there was nothing about summoning. Greg's willingness to let me browse the books should have been a tip-off that they contained nothing of use.

  "All done?"

  I jerked around. Greg's voice was close to me-too close. I'd had my back to him while checking out the books, but now he was right behind me. I took a few steps back and bumped the couch.

  "Yeah," I said nervously. "Thanks for the help. I should leave now."

  "Not yet," he said, moving closer. "You just got here."

  I tried to wriggle off to the side, but his hands suddenly reached out and grabbed a hold of my arms, pinning me into place.

  "What are you doing?" I demanded. There went my heart rate again.

  "I don't know what's going on with all this summoning stuff, but I do know there's a succubus here who doesn't feel like a succubus anymore, which probably means you can't fight like one."

  I tried to break from his grasp, but his hands were like steel. "You're crazy. Of course I'm a succubus. You know I am."

  "Yeah? Then shape-shift away from me. Turn into a bird. Turn into a bodybuilder."

  I clenched my teeth and tried to shake his hold again. "Let me go, you son of a bitch. You hurt me, and a whole host of demons are going to show up and rip you limb from limb."

  "Not so sure about that," he chuckled. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance. You think any succubus would fuck someone like me?"

  He shoved me down onto the couch, one strong arm pinning me in place while the other hand fumbled awkwardly under my shirt and grabbed a hold of my breast. Moving his head close, he tried to press his lips against mine, but I turned my head just in time.

  "Let me go!" I screamed. I managed to wriggle a leg free and knee him in the gut. It wasn't enough to free me, but it made him scowl.

  I'd worried about getting hit by cars, meteors, and structurally unsound overpasses. Never, never had I thought about being raped. It hadn't been a fear of mine for centuries, not since I realized I could shape-shift into someone larger and stronger, someone capable of throwing off any assailant.

  Maybe it shouldn't have bothered me so much. I'd had sex with plenty of people I didn't like over the years. I'd always grimaced and waited it out. But there was something about this that was different. It wasn't my choice, and compounding it all was the feeling of helplessness I had. I hated not having options. I hated not being able to think my way out of something. There was nothing to be done, though. Not this time.

  The most I could do was keep struggling and flailing. I did have some self-defense training, after all. I'd learned to use weapons and punch over the years. I'd nailed Niphon pretty good at Christmas. Unfortunately, what I could do now was limited with Greg on me like this. He simply outweighed me. Still, my efforts must have proven annoying because Greg growled and grabbed both my arms in an attempt to flip me over. I yelled profanities at him and got another knee-jab in, close to his groin but not close enough.

  And that's when it happened.

  The smell hit me first. An overwhelming and suffocating odor of natural gas. I stopped struggling for half a second.
I didn't need to be human to know that meant trouble.

  Before I could process that further, the kitchen exploded into flames.

  Fire expanded out into the living room. It didn't quite reach us, but I think Greg must have still gotten burned because he screamed in pain and released his hold on me. His body had shielded the worst from me, and mostly all I felt was a rolling wave of heat and air.

  I didn't bother to think or question anything. Greg had released me in his confusion, and I bolted. I scrambled from the couch and ran out the front door, away from the fire. Away from Greg.

  I drove off as fast as I could, my Passat's tires squealing on the pavement. Sweat poured off me, and my hands could barely grip the steering wheel through their shaking. About a mile away, I heard the singing of sirens, but I couldn't spare a thought for what had happened. I couldn't think about whether Greg had made it out or not. I couldn't think about how a gas leak had miraculously saved me.

  The only thing I could think about now was getting away and getting to safety.

  CHAPTER 14

  Instinct made me drive back to Queen Anne. I operated on autopilot, my mind blank. It was only when I'd parked and gotten out of the car that my senses slowly began to return to me. Still, I tried my best to stay numb, to not think about anything right away. My stomach was growling, so I decided to focus on basic needs. I walked over to a Thai restaurant between my apartment and the bookstore, seeking the comfort of a corner table and green curry. Once I was settled, there was no avoiding it.

  What had happened back there? Part of me could still feel Greg's hands on me, still feel the sickening sensation of being utterly and completely helpless. But the rest of me was slowly starting to analyze the stove exploding.

  I'd noticed the gas stove upon my initial inspection, but I'd noticed no smell until right before it caught on fire. With gas leaks, didn't a place usually fill up over time? This had been sudden. An out-of-the-blue surge of gas, and BAM! No warning, no anything. I supposed it could have been coincidence. Lucky timing. But in my world, coincidences didn't happen. They were usually guided by a stronger power. The question was: who or what was responsible? I had too much to worry about now without some unseen arsonist on the scene.

  "Why so pensive, Daughter of Lilith?"

  I looked up from my half-eaten food. "Carter!"

  I was pretty sure I'd never been so happy to see the angel in my life, except for maybe when he'd rescued me from Helena the crazy nephilim last fall. He wore the same clothes he'd had on in Vancouver. They appeared to stay in a perpetually consistent state of dishevelment-never getting worse, never getting better.

  He slid into the chair opposite me. "You gonna finish that?" he asked, pointing at my plate.

  I shook my head and slid the curry over to him. He immediately dug in, practically inhaling it. "What's going on?" he asked between mouthfuls of rice.

  "You know what's going on. Seattle's gone to hell. Literally."

  "Yeah, I've noticed. How's it feel to be footloose and fancy free?"

  "It sucks. For some reason, my hair's always frizzy. I used to style it myself before this happened, and it never did that."

  Carter grinned. "I doubt you were doing it all yourself. You may have still done all the labor, but some subconscious part of you was probably tweaking it just a little bit to keep it perfect."

  I pulled a face. "Well, even if that's true, I've got a few bigger problems."

  I gave him a brief recap of my adventures this morning and what had happened with Greg. Even speaking about it still sent a chill down my spine. I expected Carter to laugh and make some quip at my expense, but his face stayed serious.

  "You need to be careful," he said gravely. "Everything's different now. It'll only be for a short time, true, but even if you can't die, you're still locked in a dangerous game."

  "We have to find Jerome. Do you know where he's at?"

  Carter shook his head. "Nope. He disappeared off our radars too. I don't know anything more than you do."

  "You probably know more about demon summoning than I do," I pointed out.

  "Depends," he said. "What do you know?"

  "Pretty much what I already told you. Dante didn't have much more to offer than who he thought could do it. And those other losers didn't give up anything at all-except attitude."

  Carter flagged down a waitress and ordered a plate of panang curry and Thai iced coffee. Afterward, he tapped the table lightly with his finger, face drawn and thoughtful. "I can tell you how it's done," he said at last. "But I can't do much more. This is your side's business, not ours. We're not supposed to interfere."

  "Dispensing information isn't the same as interfering," I said.

  He smiled. "Depends on your definitions. And your people are great at finding loopholes and technicalities."

  "Yeah, but…Carter…" I sighed. "I don't really have anyone else."

  Even if I'd had full succubus charisma going, I don't think it would have worked on him. But I still had some sort of Georgina charisma that he was susceptible to. He liked me and was concerned about my life, even if he had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

  The Thai iced coffee appeared, and he paused to take a drink. "Okay. Here's how it works. Basically, a demon gets summoned into an object, and with enough magic, the demon becomes bound to that and is trapped. You've heard stories about genies, right? Well, they're kind of variations on this principle. Humans who summon demons into objects can then occasionally release the demon and make them run errands."

  "But this one's keeping Jerome locked up."

  "Right. Which makes it harder. What makes it harder still is that if this human has any sense at all, they've got the object hidden in a place of power." He took another sip and waited for me to process this.

  I knew what he was talking about. The earth was covered in places of power-sacred sites, ley lines, magic-infused spots. Anyone sifting through mythology would come across countless references to them and the roles they'd played in human history. There was just one problem with it.

  "There are dozens of those in Seattle," I said slowly.

  Carter nodded. "Yup. And even if you find the right one, the power in that place is going to help mask the power coming from the bound demon. For you? Gonna be nearly impossible without your usual senses. You need another immortal to help, the stronger the better. Or possibly a human psychic."

  I groaned. "But you can't help, and none of the demons will." The panang curry arrived, and Carter devoured it with enthusiasm. "Putting that aside, let's suppose I find this object, whatever it is. Then what?"

  "Mmm, that's hard too," he said. "A greater immortal could just break it open."

  "But not me." I was beginning to see how this worked, and it wasn't encouraging.

  "No, not even if you were in your normal state. The summoner probably put a lock on it-a seal. That'll keep a lesser immortal out. The seal's used in the binding, then it's broken into two pieces that are kept separated for safekeeping. The practitioner most certainly keeps one. If he or she had a demon's help, I'm guessing the demon has the other. Or else the practitioner would hide it."

  "Do you think another demon was involved?"

  He swallowed. "Most definitely. If you can recover the pieces of the seal, though, then you could unlock the object and set Jerome free."

  When I'd first seen Carter standing over my table, I'd been filled with hope, convinced this miserable situation was going to resolve soon and we'd get Jerome back. Now? I was more pessimistic than before.

  "So, let me get this straight. All I have to do is find this mystical object that Jerome's locked in, an object I have no way of even sensing. Once I have it, I then simply have to force the pieces of the lock away from the summoner and a demon ."

  "Yup," said Carter, licking his fork. "That pretty much sums it up."

  "Fuck."

  "Yup."

  "Well, the info's good, but I can't do anything. I have no leads on any part of this, nowhe
re to start."

  His gray eyes twinkled. "The seal has to be made of quartz."

  "Okay…"

  "Hand-carved by human hands."

  I raised an eyebrow, curious as to where this was going.

  "By someone familiar with magic and runes." He looked at me expectantly.

  "So?"

  "How many people do you think that describes in the Seattle area?" He didn't wait for me to finish. "Not many."

  Carter and his riddles. "You're saying I should find who made the seal, in the hopes they can tell me who commissioned it."

  "Right. And they can also tell you what the seal's specifics are. It's almost always a disc about this big." He used the fingers of one hand to make a circle about the size of a quarter. "But the color and designs will be different and provide clues as to what kind of place it's been hidden in."

  "God, this is complicated."

  "You're trying to find a demon that's been captured and bound as part of a larger political power play, Georgina," Carter said. "What do you expect?"

  "Fair point," I murmured. "I have one more question, though. It has nothing to do with the seal, though."

  "Shoot."

  "Why'd the stove at Greg's blow up?"

  "Because of a gas leak."

  "One that came on out of nowhere?"

  He shrugged. "Compared to what we see every day? A lot stranger things happen."

  I eyed him for a moment, wondering if I should press him with my real question. He'd said he couldn't directly interfere in this, but Carter had saved my life once before. His showing up here now was awfully coincidental…Was it possible he'd been following me all day? Had he helped expedite the stove's incineration to save me? One might argue that touching Greg would have been direct interference…but harming the stove wouldn't be, if you wanted to use demon-worthy technicalities. And, in a typically angelic way, Carter hadn't actually denied his involvement.

  I decided to let the matter go. If Carter was keeping his help a secret, there was a good reason. With a sigh, I glanced at the clock to my right. "Well, I'm still technically on leave, so I should probably take advantage of that and hunt down this seal maker."