Succubus Shadows gk-5

by Richelle Mead

  Still, I loved the water and the soft sounds of waves against the shore. A light breeze stirred my hair, and those costly glittering lights shone in the distance. I’d moved here partially to get away from Queen Anne and its regular proximity to Seth, but also because the ocean always brought back memories of my mortal youth. Puget Sound was a far cry from the warm Mediterranean waters I’d grown up near, but it soothed something within me nonetheless. That comfort was bittersweet, of course, but it was an unfortunate tendency of mortals and immortals alike to gravitate toward things we knew would cause us pain.

  The water was enchanting, glittering in both moonlight and street light. I stared off at a lit ferry moving toward Bain-bridge Island, then returned my gaze to the lapping waves before me. They seemed to be choreographed into a dance, an alluring pattern that urged me to join in. I might not be able to draw, but dancing was an art I’d carried from my mortal days. The water beckoned, and I could almost hear the music it danced to. It was intoxicating, filled with warmth and love that promised to ease that constant dull ache in my chest, the ache I’d carried since losing Seth….

  It wasn’t until I was calf-deep in water that I realized what I had done. My high heels were sinking into the sand, and warm day or no, the water was still at a low temperature, its icy touch seeping into my skin. The world, which had before seemed dreamy and hazy, now snapped into sharp relief, no longer an inviting dance that promised comfort and pleasure.

  Fear sent my heart racing, and I hastily backed up, something that wasn’t easy as the sand wrapped around my heels. I finally stepped out of them and reached down, pulling them up from the water and walking back to the shore barefoot. I stared out at the sound a few moments more, startled at how much it now scared me. How far would I have walked in? I didn’t know and didn’t want to think about it too hard.

  I turned and hastily headed toward my condo, oblivious to the rough asphalt against my feet. It wasn’t until I was safely back in my living room—having locked the door behind me—that I felt some measure of safety. Aubrey walked up to me, sniffing my ankles and then licking the salty water that still clung to them.

  I’d had one drink almost two hours ago, a drink that had long metabolized out of my system. This had been no buzzed delusion—neither had last night’s sleepwalking or near-balcony jump. I sat on my couch, arms wrapped around me. Everything around me seemed a threat.

  “Roman?” I asked aloud. “Are you here?”

  My only answer was silence. He was still out with Simone and probably wouldn’t be back the rest of the night. I was astonished at how suddenly and desperately I wished he were here. My condo seemed lonely and ominous.

  Water had splashed against my dress, and I changed out of it, swapping it for the soft comfort of pajamas. I decided then that I wouldn’t sleep. I’d wait in the living room for Roman. I needed to tell him what had happened. I needed him to guard my sleep.

  Yet, somewhere around four, my own fatigue overcame me. I stretched out along the couch, both cats curled against me, and gradually lost track of the infomercial on TV. When I woke, it was late morning, and sunlight warmed my skin. Roman was still gone. I hadn’t been able to wait him out, but I was still on the couch. For now, that was the best I could hope for.

  Chapter 4

  I spent the whole morning waiting restlessly for Roman. Surely he had to come home at some point to sleep, right? Of course, being part greater immortal, he’d have a lot of the traits of his angelic parentage—and angels and demons never needed to sleep. Roman could likely get by on very little rest and simply chose to sleep in as often as he did for the fun of it.

  I left a message on Jerome’s cell phone, which was useless more often than not. I also kind of wished I hadn’t parted from Carter so soon. Caught up in the Pictionary absurdity, I’d totally forgotten about my siren song encounters. Indeed, I’d nearly written them off until last night’s repeat. But if Jerome was hard to get a hold of, Carter was impossible. He kept no cell phone and seemed to take personal pride in showing up at unexpected moments.

  Left with no other options, I called my friend Erik. He was a human who ran a store specializing in esoteric and pagan goods. He was often my backup for bizarre supernatural situations, sometimes knowing more than my friends did. As I dialed his store’s number, I couldn’t help but marvel at the circles my life seemed to run on. I was repeating the same pattern over and over. Something weird would happen, I’d fruitlessly attempt to contact my superiors, and end up seeking Erik for help.

  “Why the fuck does this keep happening to me?” I muttered as the phone rang. Cody never got stalked by paranormal forces. Neither did any of the others. It was like I was specifically being targeted. Or cursed. Or simply imbued with bad luck. Yes, my life was a never-ending spiral, doomed to repeat the same patterns of annoying immortal threats—and miserable romantic situations.

  “Hello?”

  “Erik? This is Georgina.”

  “Miss Kincaid,” he said in his usual genteel voice. “A pleasure to hear from you.”

  “I need your help with something. Again. Are you around? I wanted to swing by before work.”

  There was a pause, and then I heard regret in his voice. “Unfortunately, I have to run errands and close the store today. I’ll be back this evening. When do you finish work?”

  “I’ll probably be free at ten.” Another evening shift.

  “I can meet you then.”

  I felt bad. His store usually closed around five. “No, no…that’s too late. We could try tomorrow….”

  “Miss Kincaid,” he said gently, “I’m always happy to see you. It’s no difficulty at all.”

  I still felt guilty when we disconnected. Erik was getting old. Shouldn’t he be in bed by ten? Nine? There was nothing to be done for it now, though. He said he’d do it, and I’d seen him when he was obstinate. I had nothing to do but wait now and hope Roman would surface before I had to work. When he didn’t, I simply left him a note saying I needed to talk to him immediately. It was the best I could do.

  At work, no one was out or—best of all—hungover. I was caught up on my paperwork, which gave me a lot of free time. Whether that was good or bad, I couldn’t say. It kept me from messing up my job but merely left me in a cycle of rumination.

  It was nearly closing time when I noticed Seth at his usual station in the café. Maddie had worked the day shift, which meant I didn’t have to face their cute couple antics. He caught my eye as I walked through, and against my better judgment, I sat down across from him.

  “How goes it?” I asked. My usual romantic fixation with him was put on pause when I saw that he looked agitated.

  He tapped the screen in annoyance. “Bad. I’ve been staring at this screen for two hours and haven’t gotten anything done.” He paused. “No, that’s not quite true. I ordered a Wonder Twins T-shirt and watched some videos on YouTube.”

  I smiled and propped my chin up in my hand. “Doesn’t sound like a bad day’s work.”

  “It is when it’s been going on all week. My muse is an ungrateful harlot who’s abandoned me to actually come up with my own plots.”

  “That’s a record for you,” I observed. I’d seen him have fits of writer’s block when we dated, but it never lasted more than a few days. “When’s your deadline?”

  “Not for a while, but still…” He sighed. “I don’t like to be stalled out. I’m not really sure what to do with my days if I’m not writing.”

  I started to say that he must have wedding stuff to do but then thought better of it. I kept to lighter topics. “Maybe it’s time to pick up a hobby. Fencing? Origami?”

  That slightly bemused smile that was so characteristic for him crossed his lips. “I tried latch hook once.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did. Do you know how hard that is to do?”

  “It’s actually pretty easy,” I said, trying to hide my laughter. “Kids do it, you know. Your nieces could probably do it.”

/>   “They can. And you’re not making me feel better.” But those beautiful brown eyes were amused. I studied them for a moment, loving the way they would sometimes turn amber. A moment later, I snapped myself out of my lovesick spell.

  “There’s always dancing,” I said mischievously.

  This made him laugh too. “I think we’ve proven how futile that is.” I’d tried twice to teach him how to do it—swing and salsa—all with disastrous results. Seth’s talents lay in his mind, not his body. Well, upon further consideration, I realized that wasn’t entirely true.

  “You haven’t found the right kind,” I said. I’d given up on hiding my grin.

  “What’s left? Riverdance? Square dancing? And do not even suggest jazz. I saw Newsies and was traumatized for, like, five years.”

  “Harsh,” I said. “You could still probably wear your T-shirts with jazz dancing. I know you must have a ‘Dancing Queen’ shirt somewhere.” His shirt today sported Chuck Norris. “Unless, of course, you wanted some variety. Square dancers have some pretty sweet costumes.”

  He shook his head in exasperation. “I’ll leave the dancing getup to you. And no, no ‘Dancing Queen’ shirt yet—though I do have an Abba one. I think a ‘Dancing Queen’ shirt would be better for you anyway, not me.” His eyes moved from my face to what he could see of my body at the table. “You look like you could go dancing right now.”

  I started to feel myself flush at his gaze and immediately utilized shape-shifting to nix it. The unseasonably warm weather lent itself to sundresses, and I had another on today. It was a cream-colored trapeze, sleeveless with a keyhole top that may or may not have been showing managerial-appropriate cleavage. He wasn’t ogling me or anything, but I had learned long ago that Seth was good at keeping his emotions off of his face. I wondered what went through his mind. Simple aesthetic admiration? Lust? Disapproval of non-managerial cleavage?

  “This old thing?” I asked breezily, uncomfortable for reasons I couldn’t explain.

  “You were wearing that color the first time we met.” He suddenly seemed embarrassed. “Not sure why I remember that.”

  “You don’t,” I said. “I was wearing purple.” Now I felt flustered to remember that.

  He frowned in a way I found cute. “Were you? Oh, yeah. I guess you were. The violet top and flowered skirt.”

  Every detail. If he’d mentioned me wearing a snakeskin jacket, I might have passed out. Yet, I had a feeling he did remember that. Probably my shoes and the way I’d styled my hair too. An awkward silence grew. I might have been keeping the flush off of my face, but there was warmth spreading through me. And only half of it was desire. The rest was something else…something sweeter and deeper.

  I cleared my throat. “What’s the book about? Cady and O’Neill, right?”

  He nodded, looking grateful for the subject change. “The usual. Mystery and intrigue, sexual tension and life-threatening situations.” He hesitated. “It’s the last one.”

  “I—what?” I felt my jaw drop. Whatever romantic feelings that had been stirring in me immediately got pushed to the back burner. “You mean like…the end of the series?” Seth had written a lot of mysteries over his career, but Cady and O’Neill—his intrepid art and archaeology explorer duo—was his flagship series. “Why?”

  He shrugged, eyes moving back to the laptop screen. “Because it’s time.”

  “How…how will you make your living?”

  His smile turned wry as he looked back up at me. “I’ve written other books that aren’t about them, Georgina. Besides, you don’t think my fans’ll have enough faith to follow me to a new series?”

  “True,” I said softly. “We’ll follow you anywhere.” I’d meant to say “they’ll,” but it was too late.

  “I hope so,” he said, averting his eyes for a moment. When he looked back, I saw a spark of excitement. “But I’m actually into doing something new. I’ve got this idea—and it’s really great. I just want to lose myself in it, you know?” I did know. I’d seen him forget parts of his real life plenty of times while caught up in a book. I wondered if this new project he was so enthusiastic about would intensify that zeal.

  “So you’ve got the ending for Cady and O’Neill figured out?” I asked.

  “No,” he said with a sigh, glow dimming. “That’s the problem. I don’t know how this is going to end.”

  I suddenly wondered if he was still talking about the books. Our gazes met again, and whatever might have come next was interrupted when Beth appeared at my side. “Georgina? A friend of yours is here to see you.”

  My heart leapt. Roman. Roman had read my note. His advice on that eerie siren song was about the only thing that could have dragged me away from Seth. I sprang up from my seat, giving Seth an apologetic look. “I’ve got to go.”

  He nodded, some troubled emotion in his eyes that I couldn’t identify. That troubled me in return. He might be good at keeping his emotions off of his face, but at one time, I’d been pretty good at figuring them out.

  “No problem,” he said. Wistfulness? Was that the mystery emotion?

  I couldn’t ponder it any longer. Roman was more important. I took the steps downstairs two at a time, anxious to see him. But when I reached the registers, where Beth had said my friend was waiting, it wasn’t Roman I saw. It was Cody.

  Or, well, I think it was.

  It took me a moment to figure it out. He was dressed all in black—and not just jeans and a T-shirt. We were talking full regalia: a studded-leather jacket, steel-toed boots, and an—ugh—mesh shirt. His blond hair had black streaks in it, and heavy black eyeliner and lipstick over white foundation completed the look. I didn’t know what to say, so I simply grabbed his arm and dragged him into my office before anyone else could see him.

  “What the hell are you doing?” The sun had only just gone down, which meant he must have doubled the speed limit to make it here so quickly.

  “I’m here to see Gabrielle,” he explained, casting an anxious glance at my doorway. “Where is she? I wanted to get here before you guys closed.”

  “She’s not working tonight.” His face fell, but I couldn’t help but add, “And honestly, I think that’s a good thing.”

  “Why? Peter had a copy of The Seattle Sinner, and after going through it, we thought this would be the way to get her attention. He helped dress me.”

  “Wait. Peter had a copy of—? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Believe me, you would have gotten her attention. But I’m not sure it’d be the kind you want.”

  Cody gestured to his attire. “But she’s into this scene. You said yourself that she dresses all in black.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “But yours seems…I don’t know. Overdone. People like her are always on the lookout for wannabes. You try too hard, and you’ll just put her further off.”

  He sighed and slumped into my desk’s chair, dejected. “Then what am I supposed to do? That newspaper was my only lead.”

  “Well, for starters, don’t let Peter dress you again. Ever. As for the rest…I don’t know. Let me ask around and see if I can get you more to go on. Just please don’t wear this outfit again.”

  “Okay,” he agreed.

  Just then, Doug stuck his head in. It wasn’t his night to work, so I was kind of surprised, but not nearly as surprised as he was.

  “Hey, Kincaid, I had a question about the schedu—Jesus Fucking Christ! What is that?”

  “It’s Cody,” I said.

  Doug walked gingerly into the office and peered at Cody’s face. “Well, I’ll be damned. It is. I thought it was the ghost of Gene Simmons.”

  “Gene Simmons isn’t dead,” said Cody.

  “Cody’s trying to impress Gabrielle,” I explained. Doug opened his mouth, no doubt to comment on the impossibility of that, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Yeah, yeah. I know. What did you need?”

  Doug needed to switch some shifts, and without his ladylove around, Cody decided to leave. I let him out the back door,
not wanting to cause a panic in the store. Once the schedule was set, Doug and I bantered about the Cody and Gabrielle situation. Before long, I lost track of time, and closing announcements were being made on the intercom. Doug said his farewells—half afraid I’d put him to work if he stayed—and I set off to finish my own tasks. My meeting with Erik was getting closer, and I felt a mix of excitement and apprehension.

  An hour after the doors were locked, staff began to go home. I made one last sweep of the store and found Seth still sitting in the café. No surprise. My coworkers could never bring themselves to kick him out when we closed. He’d actually gotten locked in once and accidentally set off the alarm. I walked over to his table, noting the enraptured look on his face as his fingers danced along the laptop’s keys.

  “Hey, Mortensen,” I said. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

  It took almost thirty seconds for him to look up, and even then, he seemed surprised to see me. “Oh. Hey.”

  I could feel a smile playing on my lips. This was picture perfect Seth behavior. “Hey, we’re all closed down. Time to go.”

  He glanced around, noting the dark windows and lack of people in the store. “Oh, man. Sorry. I didn’t even notice.”

  “I take it the muse came back?”

  “She did.”

  “So you know how it’s going to end now?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  I walked Seth to the back door and armed the alarm before letting myself out. He told me good-bye, and if he’d had any dreamy affection for me earlier in the night, it was gone now. His characters now consumed his heart. It was something I’d had to accept when we were together, and watching him walk down the street, I decided that was how it should be. Seth’s writing was too much of his being.