Richelle Mead: Succubus Heat

"Okay."

He gave me a narrow-eyed look. "And I hope it's not Jerome."

He still had that mild, businesslike exterior, but I heard the stern note in his voice. I shivered but gave him a smile anyway, trying not to think about misdirection.

"I hope not either."

I was a bit surprised at how short my meeting with Cedric had been. I was more surprised still that after all the grief Jerome had given me about the urgency of this trip, I now had nothing to do. Of course, if he was trying to get rid of me, this was as good a way as any. My bad attitude and I were out of Seattle.

It was dinnertime when I got back to Robson Street, so I found food at an Ethiopian restaurant a few blocks from my hotel and lingered over the remains of my meal with a novel I'd picked up a few days ago. Afterward, I wandered up and down the street, looking at various shops and designers, but eventually had to stop after passing two T-shirt stores. One sold retro stuff and had a dark purple Quiet Riot shirt in their window. Another sold Canadian souvenirs and displayed a shirt showing a map of Canada in red with a map of the U.S. below it in blue. The caption read: "Canada Likes It on Top." If I'd still been dating Seth, I would have bought him both. He would have shaken his head and given me a slight quirk of the lips as he tried to hide his smile.

The thought depressed me, and I found myself growing sadder and sadder as I walked back to my hotel. In that moment, I would have given anything to be with Seth again, to right the wrongs we'd done to each other back around Christmastime. Losing him was losing a part of me that-

Searing, white-hot anger suddenly shot through me. What the fuck was I whining about? Why should I miss him? Why should I pine for someone who'd betrayed me and hurt me with my friend , of all people? Seth didn't deserve my longing or my love, and as I continued walking, that dark despair within me transformed to rage and spite-just as it had done nearly every day for the past four months.

When I got back to the hotel, I was no longer sad. I was pissed. I hated everyone and everything, but especially Seth. I wanted to make him pay. Unfortunately, there was no way to do that, not here in Vancouver. Passing near the hotel's bar on my way through the lobby, I paused and surveyed the patrons. It was a veritable smorgasbord of men, most of them lone travelers making transient friends over their drinks. My succubus lust sprang up in me, and suddenly, all I wanted was to get drunk and go to bed with some guy. I wanted to lose myself in the haze of alcohol and fucking, in the hopes that it might all dull the pain that lay buried under my anger.

And as I scanned the room, one guy in particular caught my attention. The face was all wrong, but he had hair almost the same color as Seth's. It was worn messy too, though it appeared as though he'd achieved that look with gel, rather than the lack of brushing Seth employed. No, this guy wasn't a perfect match by any means, but he was close, and there was an aura of shy vulnerability about him that I liked.

Putting on a smile, I strolled across the room to introduce myself. I might not be able to actually punish Seth, but at least for tonight, I could pretend that I could.

"Can I call you?"

The Sorta-Seth-Lookalike lay naked in bed, still worn out even though he'd come hours ago. I stood near the door, fully dressed, slipping on my shoes. It turned out he was actually here on business from Seattle, and he'd been ecstatic to learn we lived in the same city.

"Mmm." I pursed my lips as though I were giving this a lot of thought. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Really?" His brief, happy look faded. He'd turned out to be as vulnerable and shy as I thought. I was only the second woman he'd ever slept with. "But I felt like…well, I felt like we really connected."

I fixed him with a cold look. That smothering rage from last night no longer consumed me, but I was still angry at the world and needed to lash out at anyone I could. "Our bodies connected. That's about it. The truth is, I already have a boyfriend."

His eyes widened. I realized then I should have mentioned having a boyfriend before we had sex. It would have doubled his guilt and given me a stronger fix. Still, the agony he now felt over sleeping with someone else's girlfriend was undoubtedly blackening his soul even as we spoke.

"R-really?"

"Yup. Sorry. This was just a way to pass the time. And honestly, baby? You want some feedback? You've still got a lot to learn. It really wasn't that great."

I left before I could see the full effect of my words. It would hurt, I had no doubt about that. Devastating him didn't really make me feel better, but it had frozen me up enough so that I didn't have to process any real emotions. I was numb, which was about the best I could hope for.

Kristin was waiting for me at a coffee shop down the street so that she could drive me over to the cult leader's house. Her mousy brown hair was pulled up into a neat French twist, and her crisp suit reminded me of something Grace or Mei might wear, save that this was navy as opposed to their usual black or-on daring days-red. She drank what looked like a cappuccino and picked over the remains of a bagel, her eyes lost in thought as she no doubt pondered the coming day's wheeling and dealing.

I bought a white chocolate mocha and slid into the chair opposite her. "Good morning," I said.

She looked me over, noting the glamour. "And a good night?"

I shrugged. "Okay night."

"You ready to meet the Army of Darkness?"

"Sure. I-wait. What did you say?"

"The Army of Darkness. That's what the cult calls itself."

"They know that's a movie, right?"

She shook her head. "Honestly, it's hard to say. They may have named themselves after the movie, for all I know."

"This is so absurd as to be unreal," I told her. "It all sounds like a joke."

"If only," she muttered. "Believe me, I'll be glad when you get rid of them. Aside from the fact that Cedric makes me talk to them, I have to file a ream of paperwork each time they do something stupid. It's really stressing him out. I keep trying to get him to do relaxation exercises, but he won't."

Her tone sounded genuinely concerned, almost as though she worked for Cedric out of true loyalty, rather than the forced servitude the rest of us bowed to.

"Well, I'll see what I can do. Don't you guys have a succubus up here? Why isn't she working this group over?"

"She's busy seducing the premier. Cedric didn't want her distracted."

"Whoa," I said. It had been centuries since I'd had the initiative to go after a major politician. "I feel like a slacker."

Kristin cut me a look. "Mostly I hear that you're a troublemaker."

"I like to think I'm just misunderstood."

She snorted. "We're all misunderstood. You have no idea how many times people try to use that as a reason to break their contracts."

Between mourning Seth and being the target of Jerome's annoyance lately, I'd had little time to think about much else. Kristin's words suddenly triggered a memory, one I'd tried to keep buried for some time now.

"How many times do people try to break their contracts over an error?"

When Niphon had been here last winter, he'd gone to great pains to complicate my life and get me recalled to Hell. Since he'd been the one to trick me into selling my soul so long ago, I had plenty of reason to hate him. But why he'd hate me and want to ruin me? That had been-and still was-a mystery. Hugh had speculated that when an imp went to that much trouble to mess with their acquisition, there was usually a reason-specifically, a potential problem with the original contract.

My casual air didn't fool Kristin. "You think there might be an error in yours?"