Richelle Mead - Succubus Shadows

I nodded.

“Good. Now it’s time to finish this.”

Jerome turned toward the humans. One of them was old, very old—with dark brown skin and graying hair. His eyes were compassionate. The other man was younger, with messy hair and brown eyes that turned honey-amber when the light caught them. He was staring at me like he knew me, which wasn’t a surprise because I knew him too. I didn’t know how, but I did. In fact, I was beginning to realize I knew everyone in this room. Other names were coming back to me. This one man’s name eluded me, though, largely because several kept popping into my head. He studied me intently, like he was trying to figure something out, and I found myself falling into those golden brown eyes.

Jerome said something to the gray-haired man in that other language. I still couldn’t understand it, but there was something familiar about its sounds. The old man didn’t answer or move right away, and palpable tension fell over the entire room. At last the old man took a wand he was holding and began touching points on the circle upon the floor, murmuring softly as he did. When he touched the circle a fourth time, it was as though a great pressure—one I hadn’t even known was there—was released from the room.

Jerome exchanged a few curt words with the man and then turned to me. “As I was saying, how you’re conscious is beyond me—but considering all the other absurd things you do, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

He stepped toward me and pressed his fingers to my forehead. I gasped as a jolt of…something…raced through me. At first, it was shocking and prickly. Then, it transformed into something sweeter and more wonderful. The most wonderful thing on earth. It filled me up, energizing me, making me whole. Until this moment, how could I have thought I was alive?

The world came into greater focus, the sights grew more familiar. I staggered, not from weakness this time, but from the pure bliss of life Jerome had gifted me with. He said something to me in that other language, and I frowned, not understanding.

He spoke again in my own words. “Change back, Georgina. Time to go.”

“Change to what?”

“Whatever you want. Your current favorite, I’d imagine. Not this.” His hand gestured toward my body.

I examined myself for the first time. I wasn’t quite as tall as him, a few inches shorter, maybe. My legs and arms were long and lean, my skin tanned from the sun. A plain ivory dress covered me, and I could see the tips of black hair falling onto my chest. I frowned. This was me…and yet not me.

“Change back, Georgina,” he repeated.

“That’s not my name,” I said.

“Shake off what they’ve done,” he said, clearly impatient. “It’s over. They’ve fogged your mind, but you can clear it. Change back, Georgina. Come back to this time.” His next words were in that other language, and I shook my head angrily.

“I don’t understand. I shouldn’t be here. This is my body, but this isn’t my time.”

He gave another command that I still didn’t comprehend, and I uttered the same response. Three times we went through this, and then on the fourth, his words came through to me, perfectly understandable. I knew what he was speaking. The English language exploded in my mind, and with it, much more.

I held out my hands before me, staring long and hard as though seeing them for the first time. “This is my time,” I murmured in English. I looked down at my long legs. A strange sense of revulsion ran through me. “This is not my body.” Yet…it was. It was, and it wasn’t. With no energy, it was what I had reverted to.

“What’s your name?” he demanded.

Letha. My name is Letha.

“Georgina,” I said. And with that, I summoned the power to make my body’s shape change. Slim and short, with light brown hair, and golden green eyes. The off-white homespun shift became a blue cotton dress. A moment later, I changed it to jeans and a blue shirt.

Jerome glanced at Carter. “See? No harm done.”

Carter didn’t acknowledge that. Instead, he asked, “So now what?”

“Now?” Jerome’s gaze fell on me again. “Now Georgina sleeps.”

“What?” I cried. “No! Not after…no. I’m never sleeping again.”

Jerome almost smiled before touching my forehead again.

I slept.

Iwoke up in my own bed and found Mei sitting beside it. Not even Nurse Ratched could have startled me that much.

Mei was flipping through a magazine and glanced up, appearing bored. “Oh. You’re awake. Finally.” She stood up.

“What…what happened?” I asked, blinking at the light pouring in through my window. I was kind of surprised she hadn’t shut the curtains. She didn’t really strike me as a fun-in-the-sun person.

“You don’t remember?” Her disinterested expression sharpened. “Jerome said it would all come back to you. If it hasn’t…”

I sat up, drawing my knees to my body. “No, no. I remember…I remember what happened at Erik’s. I remember…the Oneroi.” Saying the word made me shudder. “But what happened after that? How long have I been asleep?”

“Three days,” she said flatly.

“What?” I stared at her, my mouth agape. If Mei was the joking type, I would have expected the punch line now. “I don’t…I mean, it went so fast. And I didn’t dream.”

She crooked me a smile. “Seems like you’d want that. And heavy sleep heals you faster.” The smile changed to a grimace. “Not that waiting by your bedside for three days has really felt that fast. Jerome made me keep all your friends away. That was fun.”

“Did you just use sarcasm?”

“I’m leaving,” she said, back to her all business self. “I’ve done what Jerome asked.”

“Wait! What happened to Seth and Erik? Are they okay?”

“Fine,” she said. I waited for her to vanish, but it didn’t come. She peered at me curiously. “It shouldn’t have worked, you know.”

“What shouldn’t have?”

“That ritual. There is no way that human could have found you. Not among all those other souls.”

The Oneroi had said the same thing, and thinking back to the storm of color and disorder, I could understand their reasoning. “We…we love each other.” I wasn’t sure I had the right to those words, but they came out anyway.

Mei rolled her eyes. “That means nothing. Human love—no matter what all your songs and chick flicks tell you—isn’t enough. It shouldn’t have worked.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Well…I guess it did.”

“Jerome knew it would too,” she mused, a small frown wrinkling her brow. Her gaze hardened on me. “Did you? Do you know how it happened?”

“What?” I squeaked. “No! I don’t understand any of this.”

I expected her to deny this and question me further. Instead her frown only deepened, and I realized I was no longer of use in solving this dilemma to her. She vanished.

The instant she disappeared, Roman came bursting into my room. “She’s gone?” he asked. If he was nearby, he would have felt her signature go away.

“Have you been hanging out the whole time?” I asked.

He sat down in the chair she’d been in. “Jerome ordered her not to let anyone come near you.”

“You could have taken her,” I said, attempting a joke.

“Not without causing a whole lot of trouble.” He frowned, eyes troubled with thought. “Although, I would have revealed myself if I’d needed to if that…thing that came out of the gate had tried to take on Carter and Jerome.”

I shuddered at the memory. “I didn’t even know there were monsters like that in the—wait. How could you have helped them? Were you…were you in the circle?” I’d assumed he’d been watching from the sides.