Succubus Revealed gk-6

by Richelle Mead

  “He doesn’t hate you.”

  “But he—”

  “I know, I know.” Hugh wouldn’t let me finish. “I know what he said, but he was still in the throes of grief from that fucked-up hypnosis. That was too much for anyone to handle. Carter talked to him when you got back—explained what happened.”

  My heart lurched. Was that a good or bad thing? I was beginning to gain some glimpse of just how invested Carter had been in my situation (and Seth’s), but had the angel really been able to fix everything so easily?

  “Did . . . did Carter change Seth’s mind about me or something ?”

  Hugh shrugged. “I don’t think he needed to. If things hadn’t panned out like they had that night—with the car—I think you and Seth would’ve had a very interesting conversation. I think he’d started to come around. It’s why he was there.”

  “No,” I said, disbelieving.

  “I talked to him, sweetie. Do you really think all that love could have just been thrown away so easily? And he was here, you know. He was by your bedside until . . . well, yesterday, actually. Then he had to leave for his tour.”

  “His tour . . .” I vaguely remembered Andrea mentioning that, how it had become a possibility with her recovery. Speaking of Andrea . . . if my contract was off the table, Hell would have no reason to continue messing with her. She could be left in peace to heal on her own. “He went yesterday?”

  “Somewhere on the East Coast,” said Hugh. “I’m sure you can find it on his Web site. You were the one who always encouraged him to update it, after all.”

  I smiled at that, thinking of how reluctant Seth had been about the digital age. I gestured vaguely at my prone body. “Probably just as well that he’s gone. I need to heal up. Maybe . . . maybe we’ll talk when he’s back.”

  Hugh eyed me, staying silent.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “He’s going to be gone two weeks,” said Hugh. “That much I know. You sure you want to wait that long?”

  “I’ve waited a long time already,” I pointed out dryly.

  “Exactly my point. Look, I don’t have any delusions about my soul. I made my choice and am content with fate. But if I were you? If I had my soul and the potential for a new life? Fuck, Georgina. I’d go after Seth, wherever he is, the instant I could hobble out of my bed. You’re mortal now. It’s easy to ‘wait a little longer’ when you’ve got all of eternity on the line. You don’t anymore. You’ve wasted the time you have playing Hell’s games, bickering back and forth with Seth and who he’s been. End it. Go to him, as soon as you can, and fix this.”

  “You sound like Roman.” As soon as I said his name, a million memories came crashing down on me. “Oh my God. Roman. I can’t believe what he did.”

  “I know,” said Hugh sadly. “Carter told us that too.”

  “Why would he do that?” I asked, knowing I’d never have a satisfactory answer. “Oh Lord, Hugh. I left him there. I abandoned him.”

  “You did no such thing,” scolded Hugh. “You had no choice in it. And it’s not like he was conned or tricked. He knew for a long time he wanted to do this. After we filed the petition, he grilled me constantly about contract details and Hell’s legal procedures. He wanted to do this. He prepared for it. He was just waiting for the chance.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid I would cry, as I remembered him defending me in Hell. A vague memory came to me, the night before the game. . . . Roman had had something to tell me but had held off. And when I’d floated above my body, just before I’d faded away, Carter had said he had to go get Roman. They’d planned on all of this. Roman had known what was happening and had been ready to depart. Hugh was right. Roman had wanted this.

  That didn’t make it any easier.

  I opened my eyes. “What do I do?”

  Hugh’s face was kind as he regarded me. “Don’t make Roman’s sacrifice be in vain. He wanted you to be happy. So go be happy, sweetie. Go to Seth.”

  Any response I might make was interrupted when a nurse came and discovered I was conscious. She scolded Hugh for not getting her and went to summon the doctor. Hugh gave me a sheepish look as she did. It was a carryover from being immortal, when I would’ve healed so fast that we could easily dismiss modern medicine’s assistance. The doctor, a fortysomething woman named Dr. Addison, soon appeared and performed a few preliminary tests on me, as well as giving me the rundown on my condition.

  When she was finished, I asked, “How long do you think I’ll be here?”

  “If everything progresses like it should?” she mused. “I’d say you can be discharged in three more days. And you’re going to have to take it easy.”

  “Three more days,” I repeated mournfully. Being human was going to take some getting used to. As a succubus, I would’ve recovered from this in twenty-four hours. There wouldn’t have even been any taking it easy afterward.

  Dr. Addison scoffed at my dismay. “Honestly, after getting hit like you did, a week total here isn’t bad at all. You took some nasty hits, but really, this could’ve been a lot worse.”

  When she and the nurse left, I saw Hugh scanning his phone. “What are you looking at?”

  “Seth’s schedule. In three days, he’ll be in St. Louis.”

  “Hmm,” I said.

  “In four, he’ll be in San Francisco.”

  “That’s close,” I said. “Relatively.”

  “It’d give you an extra day in there to recover,” said Hugh.

  “An extra day, huh?” I teased. “What happened to not wasting a single day as a mortal?”

  “My point about not wasting time still stands,” said Hugh. He grinned. “But even I can be realistic. Take the extra day. You need it for the logistics of travel, if nothing else. But not a single day more.”

  “Get out and live life, huh?”

  “If you’re up for it.”

  I thought about his words, thought about Seth. I nodded, not caring whether hopping on a plane right after being discharged was crazy. I was human now. Crazy was in the job description.

  “I’m up for it,” I said. “Book me a flight to San Francisco.”

  Hugh’s attention was on his phone again. “Sweetie, I already am.”

  Chapter 22

  Flying from Seattle to San Francisco is easy, easier even than going to Las Vegas. It takes less than two hours, and tons of flights run each day. The whole trip should’ve been simple. I mean, there were days when I’d spent more time in traffic just trying to get from downtown Seattle to the suburbs.

  But I’d never flown on an airplane as a mortal. I was still determined to get to Seth, so there was no question that I was going to make this flight—only a lot of fear. I sat on the plane, waiting for takeoff, noticing things I’d never paid much attention to before. Were the engines usually that loud? Was that fuel I smelled? Was that a crack in the window, and if so, would the whole thing hold when we were airborne? I’d never done much more than politely watch the flight attendants’ safety demo, but this time, I hung on to every detail. I had a lot on the line now—like, my life. An immortal could survive a plane crash. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it was possible. Now? Now I faced all the risks the rest of the human world did.

  My fears were unfounded, of course. The flight was smooth and easy, just as fast as I’d expected. Flying really was the safest form of travel. That hadn’t changed. Only my perceptions of the world had. I made the trip white-knuckled and breathed a deep sigh of relief when the plane landed.

  By the time I’d rented a car and was settled into my hotel room, I still had a couple hours before Seth’s signing. My hotel was only a couple of blocks from his store—I’d planned it that way—and there was little for me to do except wait. Wait and obsess. A lot of that time was spent agonizing over my appearance. Even when I could shape-shift, I’d always prided myself on my ability to do my own styling. Of course, when Jerome had been summoned and I’d lost my succubus powers briefly, I’d discovered that I really wasn’t q
uite as adept as I’d believed. I’d been cheating without realizing it all along, making small corrections with my powers. Stripped of them, I’d found all the little details I’d missed with blending eye shadow, straightening my hair, and myriad other grooming tasks.

  Now was no different. I would never have that guaranteed perfection again. There would always be flaws in my appearance. I was going to start aging. How long until that set in? Staring at myself in the hotel bathroom’s mirror, I searched out all the little things I thought could be improved upon and then tried to fix them. When I was finished, I was so frustrated that I didn’t know if I’d come close to my previous perfection or not. The only thing I was fairly certain of was that it probably didn’t matter. Seth’s decision to forgive me wasn’t going to have anything to do with how my bangs fell or if my makeup brought out the gold flecks in my green eyes.

  I showed up ten minutes before Seth’s event started, thought it was obvious people had been arriving for some time. A bit of nostalgia for Emerald City hit me as I gazed around and took in the efficient bookstore staff as they worked to accommodate the crowd. A podium had been set up in front of a large seating area, though no chairs were left empty. Staff shifted what furniture they could to improve the view for those of us who were standing, and I had to stop myself from offering to help. I ended up purposely staying near the back of the standing crowd. I could still see the podium and hoped my spot would keep me semiobscured. All around me, excited readers clutched copies of Seth’s books, some even carrying huge stacks.

  Their excitement was electric, and I found myself getting caught up in it when Seth finally emerged to thunderous applause. My heart leaped. How long had it been since we’d last spoken? A week? It felt like an eternity, maybe because I’d pretty much lived one in the trial. He was wearing a Brady Bunch T-shirt, and though it looked like he’d brushed his hair, I could already see parts of it starting to go unruly in that way it had. He didn’t appear to have shaved in a couple days, but the scruff looked adorable and added to his carefree writer appearance. I felt a smile spreading on my face as I watched him and was reminded of the first time we’d met, when he’d come to Emerald City for a signing and I hadn’t recognized him.

  “Hey, everybody,” he said into the microphone, once the applause had quieted. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

  Thinking about that first meeting with him also made me realize how much he had changed in the last year and a half. He would never be entirely comfortable in front of a crowd like this—especially since they kept getting bigger—but he was certainly more at ease than that first meeting. He grinned at their enthusiasm and made eye contact where he could, something he’d had trouble with in the past. There was confidence even in the way he stood and spoke. It made me love him that much more, something I hadn’t believed possible.

  Sometimes he would open by reading aloud from the new book, but this time, he jumped straight into questions. Hands went up everywhere, and I found myself ducking against a shelf as he scanned the audience and called on people. I wasn’t quite ready for discovery yet. I just wanted to watch him and drink him in.

  I was amused that the very first question he was asked was, “Where do you get your ideas from?” That had been a joke between us, at that first meeting, because it was one of the most common questions he received. I’d commented, back then, that it must get tedious answering the same things, and Seth had told me no. He’d said that the question was always new for the person asking and that he treated it as such. It didn’t matter how many times it came up. He took joy in their excitement for the books.

  More questions came, both broad and specific, and Seth answered them all with friendliness and good humor that his fans loved. A lot of people especially wanted to know about the next book, the last book in his Cady and O’Neill series. My heart grew and grew the more I watched him, and I felt like I was getting away with something by being able to observe him without his knowledge. Our last few encounters hadn’t exactly been friendly, and it was a balm to me to observe all the warmth and kindness that had made me fall in love with him.

  It went by too quickly. I was so caught up in watching and listening to him that I was barely aware of the time flying by. It wasn’t until I picked up on the subtle movements of the staff that it hit me that this portion of the event was about to wrap up. They would go into signing soon, and the crowd around me would become a massive line that would take hours to get through. Then what? I was suddenly at a loss. Why had I come here? To see Seth . . . and then? I wasn’t sure what. I hadn’t had much of a plan, short of the preparations needed to get here. Somehow, I had been thinking that would be enough, but of course it wouldn’t be. If I wanted to do something, I had to do it now, before this turned into the machine of signing.

  My hand went up, and inexplicably, Seth’s eyes went instantly to me. I don’t know how it happened. Like me, others had realized their chance to ask questions was running out, and eager hands were up everywhere, some waving eagerly in the hopes that they might draw his attention. How I—standing in the back and shorter than most of those around me—pulled it off was a mystery. Maybe it was like the time Erik had used Seth to rescue me from the Oneroi. Maybe after everything that had happened, we were still bound.

  Seth’s eyes widened when he realized it was me, but his hand was already pointing in my direction, giving me permission to speak. He faltered only a little. “Y-yes?”

  I felt like the eyes of the world were on me. The eyes of the universe, even. So much rested on the next words out of my mouth.

  “Are Cady and O’Neill ever going to get together?”

  I don’t know where it came from. When Seth and I had first met, this was the other common question he and I had discussed, and I had mocked it as well. Surprisingly, no one had asked it tonight, but judging from the intense way everyone turned to Seth, you could tell it was on a lot of people’s minds.

  Those amber brown eyes weighed me heavily, and then he answered my question with a question. “Do you think they should?”

  “Well,” I said, “they’ve been through an awful lot together. And if there’s only one book left, it kind of seems like they’re running out of time.”

  The ghost of a smile flickered over his lips. “I suppose you’re right.” He thought about it a heartbeat more. “I don’t know if they will. I guess you’ll just have to read the next installment.”

  That was met with disappointed groans, and the bookstore staff used that as an opening to segue into signing and hurry Seth off to a more comfortable table. He watched me a few moments more before he moved, the faint smile still on his face. He looked thoughtful.

  Meanwhile, my heart was beating in double time. In a daze, I allowed myself to be herded with the others into line, not caring how far back I was. Some of the aches in my ribs and the rest of my body began to nag me, but I forced myself to stay strong and ignore them. It took an hour and a half for me to reach the front, but much like the questions, I barely noticed the passage of time. Only, now it wasn’t because I was so enraptured by what I saw. This time, I was simply terrified. I wanted to see Seth . . . but was afraid to.

  He finished signing for the person in front of me and gave me the same smile he’d had on for everyone else. I supposed he’d had time to prepare himself for me coming through the line and was able to effectively hide his shock at my presence.

  “Hi,” he said. I handed him my book without a word. “You’ve come a long ways.”

  “I’m a pretty big fan,” I said.

  He smiled and scrawled one of his stock phrases into the book: Thanks for reading! When he finished signing, he gave the book back to me, and I gave him an envelope in return.

  “This is for you,” I said. There was nothing that weird about my action. People often gave him gifts and letters. In fact, I could see a small pile of goods sitting on a chair beside him. He accepted them with good grace all the time, but then, they weren’t usually from people who had the kind
of history we did.

  He held the envelope for a moment, and I suddenly worried he wasn’t going to take it. Then, he set it down and said, “Thank you.” It went next to him on the table, not on the chair.

  Unsure what to do now, I murmured my own thanks and then hurried off to let everyone else have their chance with him. Mine was gone. I’d played my cards and wouldn’t know for a while if anything would come of it. The envelope had had a number scrawled on one side, and inside was a key to my hotel room. It was a silly, clichéd thing to do, but I knew how these types of events worked. If I’d openly asked Seth to meet me somewhere, I would have likely gotten the unwanted attention of the bookstore staff and their security. I knew because I’d hurried a fair number of zealous fans off after book signings myself.

  At least back in the hotel room, I was able to sit down. I didn’t realize until that moment just how much I’d been asking of my battered body to stand for that long. Hugh had been right about one thing: being mortal changed everything. I couldn’t shrug off getting hit by a car now the same way I could have as a succubus. My doctor had given me a prescription for Vicodin, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to be strung out on drugs for my grand reunion with Seth. I settled for ibuprofen and began the agonizing process of waiting.

  I’d actually dozed off when I heard the room’s door click open. I sprang up from the bed, only getting half a glance at myself in the mirror before I moved toward the door. Seth entered, freezing when he saw me. The door swung shut behind him, and I too came screeching to a halt, too stunned to move. Part of it was that same wonder and rapture of seeing him, just as it had been in the bookstore. Only, now he was right here, alone in the same room with me. It was almost too much to handle. The rest of my inability to react came from simply forgetting what I’d wanted to say. I’d rehearsed a hundred speeches and apologies earlier, and all of them abandoned me now. I fumbled for something—anything—to say that would fix all of the hurt between us.