Richelle Mead: Succubus Shadows

Roman’s arm covered his eyes against the sunlight streaming through his window. He shifted, moving the arm slightly, and peered at me with one eye. “It’s early,” he said.

“Not according to your exalted sire.”

A few seconds passed, and then he grimaced as he too sensed Jerome’s immortal signature. With a sigh, Roman sat up, pausing to rub his eyes. He looked about as exhausted as I felt, but if there was one force in this world that could drag him out of bed after a late night, it was my boss—no matter Roman’s bold claims from last night. He staggered to his feet and moved past me in the doorway.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” I exclaimed.

Roman’s only answer was a disinterested wave of his hand as he headed down the hall. I followed him back and discovered Jerome pouring himself a mug of some vodka leftover from last night. Well, it was five o’clock somewhere. He arched an eyebrow when he saw Roman’s scantily clad state.

“Nice of you to dress up.”

Roman made a beeline for the coffee. “Only the best for you, Pop. Besides, Georgina likes it.”

A moment of heavy silence followed as Jerome’s dark eyes studied Roman. I knew nothing about Roman’s mother, but Jerome was the demon who had fathered him thousands of years ago. Technically, Jerome had been an angel at the time, but making the moves on a human had got him fired from Heaven and sent off to work for those down below. No severance package.

Roman occasionally made snide comments about their familial relationship, but Jerome never acknowledged it. In fact, according to both Heaven and Hell’s rules, Jerome should have blasted Roman from the earth ages ago. Angels and demons considered nephilim unnatural and wrong and continually attempted to hunt them to extinction. It was kind of harsh, even with the sociopathic tendencies nephilim tended to have. Roman had been instrumental in saving Jerome recently, however, and the two had struck a deal that allowed Roman to live peacefully in Seattle—for now. If any of Jerome’s colleagues found out about this illicit arrangement, there would literally be hell to pay—for all of us. A good succubus would have told on her rule-breaking boss.

“So what brings you here?” asked Roman, pulling up a chair. “Want to toss the old football around?”

Jerome’s face remained impassive. “I have a job for you.”

“Like one that pays the rent?” I asked hopefully.

“Like one that ensures I’ll continue to allow him to live in the lifestyle he’s accustomed to,” replied Jerome.

Roman had an amused, devil-may-care smile on his face that was typical of him, but I wasn’t fooled. He knew the threat Jerome represented and also knew that part of their deal involved Roman doing errands for his father. Still, Roman made a good show of acting like he was the one doing Jerome a favor. The nephilim gave an unconcerned shrug.

“Sure. I’ve got nothing else going on today. What’s up?”

“We have a new immortal visitor in town,” said Jerome. If Roman’s attitude annoyed him, the demon was just as good at masking his feelings. “A succubus.”

My removed, psychological study of father and son dynamics came to a screeching halt. “What?” I exclaimed, straightening up so quickly that I nearly spilled my coffee. “I thought we were set after Tawny.”

I’d worked the succubus scene solo around here for years until Jerome had acquired another one several months ago. Her name was Tawny, and while she was annoying and pretty inept as succubi went, there was still something rather endearing about her. Fortunately, Jerome had sent her off to Bellingham, keeping her a comfortable hour-and-a-half drive from me.

“Not that it’s any of your business, Georgie, but this one’s not here to work. She’s here…as a visitor. On vacation.” Jerome’s lips twisted with bitter amusement.

Roman and I exchanged looks. Immortals could certainly take personal vacations, but clearly, there was more to this.

“And?” asked Roman. “She’s really here because…?”

“Because I’m sure my superiors want to check up on me after the recent…incident.”

His words were delicate, with a very subtle warning not to elaborate on said incident. It was the one Roman and I had rescued him from—a summoning that had imprisoned Jerome as part of a demonic power play. Letting yourself get summoned was embarrassing for a demon and could call his territorial control into question. Hell sending someone to survey the situation wasn’t that crazy.

“You think she’s spying to see if you can still run things?” asked Roman.

“I’m certain of it. I want you to follow her around and see who she reports back to. I’d do it myself, but it’s better if I don’t appear suspicious. So I need to stay visible.”

“Lovely,” said Roman, voice as dry as his father’s. “There’s nothing I want to do more than trail a succubus around.”

“From what I hear, you’re pretty good at it,” I piped in. It was true. Roman had stalked me invisibly a number of times. Lesser immortals like me couldn’t hide the telltale signature that wreathed all of us, but Roman had inherited that ability from Jerome, making him the perfect spy.

Roman shot me a wry look, then turned back to Jerome. “When do I start?”

“Immediately. Her name is Simone, and she’s staying down at the Four Seasons. Go there and see what she does. Mei will relieve you off and on.” Mei was Jerome’s second-in-command demon.

“The Four Seasons?” I asked. “Is Hell paying for that? I mean, we’re in a recession.”

Jerome sighed. “Hell’s never in a recession. And I didn’t think your droll commentary started until after you’d finished your coffee.”

I showed him my cup. It was empty.

Jerome sighed again and then vanished without warning. He apparently had no doubts that Roman would follow his orders.

Roman and I stood there for several quiet seconds, during which both cats resurfaced. Aubrey rubbed against Roman’s bare leg, and he scratched her head.

“Guess I should shower and get dressed,” he said at last, rising to his feet.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” I said. “And won’t you be invisible anyway?”

He turned his back to me and walked off down the hallway. “I was thinking of dropping off some job applications when Mei gives me a break.”

“Liar,” I said. I don’t think he heard.

It wasn’t until the shower kicked on that I realized I should have asked Jerome about that weird sensation last night. It was so odd; I didn’t even know how to describe it. The more I pondered it, the more I wondered if it had been alcohol-induced. Admittedly, Roman claimed he’d sensed something, but he’d drank as much as me.

And speaking of jobs…my kitchen clock was telling me I needed to head off to mine. One thing about this condo was that the skyline view had come at the cost of work convenience. My old apartment had been in Queen Anne, the same neighborhood that Emerald City Books and Café resided in. I used to be able to walk to work, but that was impossible from West Seattle, meaning I had to allow commuting time.

Unlike Roman, I had no need to physically shower and change—not that I wouldn’t have liked to. I found human routines comforting. A brief burst of succubus shape-shifting cleaned me up, putting me in a work-appropriate peach sundress and arranging my light brown hair into a loose bun. Roman didn’t surface before I had to leave, so I grabbed another cup of coffee and left him a note asking if it would kill him to take out the garbage before he went off to play secret agent.

My headache and the last effects of the hangover were gone by the time I walked into the store. It was abuzz with late afternoon shoppers, people out running Saturday errands and tourists who had wandered over from the Space Needle and Seattle Center down the street. I dropped my purse off in my office and then did a managerial sweep of the store, satisfied that everything was running smoothly—until I noticed we had a line of eight people and only one cashier.