Richelle Mead: Succubus Shadows

Jerome sipped his bourbon and remained silent.

“Well? Don’t you have anything to say?”

He scowled. “What do you expect me to say? Should I cry? Put on sackcloth and ashes? Humans die all the time, Georgie. You’re the one who mourns them—not me. I have no sentiment for any of them. You know that. And certainly not for him.”

I did know that. When Duane—one of Jerome’s former employees—had been killed, the demon’s only reaction had been annoyance.

“What’s weird…” I paused, putting to words what had been coalescing in the back of my mind this whole time. “What’s weird is that someone would break into a New Age store at all. It’s not a good place for a robbery.”

“If it has money, it’s a good place for a robbery. If it’s in a deserted strip mall, with only an old man there, it’s even a better place for a robbery. Were the valuables gone?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Then why are you here wasting my time?”

“The glass.”

“The glass?”

“The glass was broken from the inside,” I said. “The pieces were scattered on the sidewalk. Whoever did it didn’t break the glass to get in. It just looked that way.”

Jerome sighed irritably. “After everything you’ve seen, can you honestly question the behaviors of humans?”

“It just seems strange that someone like Erik—someone who deals in the supernatural and who had—” I hesitated, about to say that he’d been pondering my contract. Instead, I said, “Who had just been involved with a big immortal blowout would be the victim of this by coincidence.”

“Coincidences happen.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences anymore.”

“Then replay your own words. Your ‘big immortal blowout’ is the answer. They might not live in our world, but do you think dream creatures don’t have connections here?”

I frowned. “What are you saying?”

“That I thought it was too convenient for the Oneroi’s overlord to walk away. He knew he couldn’t touch me or any other immortal. But a human? One who had been actively involved with thwarting him?” Jerome shrugged. “It’s revenge. He could arrange for that. We can’t prove it—and we can’t do anything. Make sure you understand that. I’m not going to avenge your friend, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

I hadn’t expected him to. In fact, I really wasn’t sure what I’d expected of him at all. Why had I come here? Because I was in shock. Because what had happened to Erik didn’t make sense. Because Jerome often had answers for me.

This time, he did too…but I wasn’t sure that I believed them. The old adage came back: How do you know if a demon is lying? His lips are moving.

“Okay,” I said with a small nod. His eyes narrowed a little. I think he was surprised I’d given in so quickly. Glancing down, I shape-shifted the blood away. “I’m going to go home and…I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

My confusion wasn’t faked, and I hoped it would be enough to clear any suspicion. And really, what did he have to be suspicious of? I didn’t even know. Two contracts.

Jerome didn’t try to stop me. I drove home with almost no realization of what I was doing until I pulled into the parking lot under my building. As soon as I opened my condo’s door, I caught the faint smell of Chinese food. It smelled delicious, yet at the same time, it had that slight twinge of food that had been sitting around for a while. Roman sprawled on the couch, staring at nothing as far as I could tell. The TV was off. The cats remained unpetted.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” I said. “You won’t believe what—”

“I’ve got something for you,” he said. “Two somethings, actually.”

The odd tone of his voice was about the only thing that could have stopped me from gushing about what had gone down at Erik’s tonight. Even now, the events in the store were so surreal that it hardly seemed like something that had happened to me. Surely it was something I’d seen in a movie. I sat down in the armchair near Roman, the queasy feeling in my stomach growing as I wondered what else could possibly happen tonight.

“What is it?”

He handed me a piece of paper. “This was under the door when I got back with the food. I didn’t mean to read it, but…well, it wasn’t in an envelope or anything.”

I took it wordlessly, immediately recognizing the scrawled writing. Seth’s. To a lot of people it would be undecipherable, but I’d had a lot of practice in decoding his sloppy penmanship.

Georgina,

When I woke up without you in Mazatlán, I was so angry. I felt betrayed and abandoned and wondered if you’d been playing me the entire time. Then, the more I thought about your words, the more my life began to come into focus. I still don’t want to deal with the mess here in Seattle. I don’t want to face Maddie. I don’t want to face myself. But, I realized, I do want you to be proud of me.

Maybe “proud” isn’t the right word. Respect? Like? Love? I’m not sure, but the events at Erik’s have still left an impression. Really, lying in your arms has left an impression. I meant what I said: I’d rather be alone than not be with you. Even apart, though, I can’t stand the thought of you being disappointed in me. To regain your good opinion, I would risk almost anything. I’d even come back here to face my demons.

And I have come back here, despite how much I wish I could run away. Disappearing won’t erase the bad things around me, however. Maybe you’re a messenger of some sort, some agent of destiny. If not for you, I almost certainly wouldn’t have returned, but it turns out I needed to. Terry and Andrea received their results yesterday. She only has months to live, something that I’d almost swear was the doctor’s joke. Only a few weeks ago, she seemed perfectly fine. I don’t want to face that, any more than I want to face everything else. But they need me more than ever now, and I love them. I love them so much that I realize my own life and wants don’t matter. As soon as I finish this book, I’m putting everything else—even the new series—on hold. None of it matters. Only they do. They’ll need me in the next few months. They’ll need me more in the months after that.

I don’t know when we’ll see each other again—though you’ll notice I say “when” and not “if.” Like I mentioned in Mexico, I know better than to think the universe will keep us apart. Regardless, I want you to be happy wherever your life takes you—and I hope someday I can be worthy of your respect again.

I also want you to know that in returning, I don’t expect anything from you. I just wanted to make sure you understood what I did…and how you’ve affected me.

—Seth

I looked up at Roman, who had been studying me while I read. I didn’t know what astonished me more: Seth returning—because of me—or the god-awful news about Andrea. Both were monumental in their own ways. One was a tragedy of epic proportions.

I swallowed, afraid if I fully processed it all, I’d start crying. “I’m not sure how much more I can handle tonight,” I said in a small voice.

Roman’s face was a mixture of sympathy and cynicism. “Well, you’ve got one more thing.”

He handed me a magazine. It was a trashy celebrity gossip one that was a popular source of mockery over at the bookstore. I couldn’t imagine why he was giving something so trivial to me, in light of everything else that had gone on. One page was marked with a Post-it, and I flipped to it.

It was a spread of assorted celebrity shots, the kind of candids that paparazzi delighted in: actors out with their children, pop stars spotted in Las Vegas nightclubs. I skimmed over the two pages, feeling a frown grow on my face as I tried to figure out why on earth I’d care about this right now.