Richelle Mead: Succubus Dreams

"I'm Whitney," said another slowly, a pretty black woman whose hair consisted of myriad tiny braids. She dressed with a fashion sense that met my standards and wore cat-eye glasses that made her look both cute and wise. Her handshake took a moment in coming, but it did come.

I glanced at the last angel expectantly. He had dark brown hair and blue eyes, paired with a long and narrow face. His expression conveyed clear disapproval and a haughty coldness. Now that was behavior I associated with angels. For a moment, I didn't think he'd speak at all. Then, with great stiffness, he said, "I'm Joel." No handshake followed.

I turned to the human. He grinned back with as much enthusiasm as Yasmine and flipped his longish dark hair out of his eyes. "Vincent Damiani. Nice to meet you."

"You too." I cut Carter a sly look. "And all this time, I didn't think you had any friends."

"You're jumping to conclusions, Daughter of Lilith." He sipped from what looked like whiskey straight up. "They're here on business."

"Ooh. Top secret angel business, huh? What're you going to do? Dance on a pinhead? Lobby for National Cute Puppy Day?"

Joel's cold look dropped another ten degrees. "As if we would discuss our affairs with a dark seductress of evil."

Yasmine elbowed him with an eye roll. "She's joking."

"That's what she wants you to think," he warned ominously. "I for one am not going to let my guard down while she attempts to use her wily and sinister powers of seduction on us."

Fixing him with a slow, languid smile, I leaned back in the chair, crossing my legs so the skirt rode up my thighs. "Baby, if I were using my wily and sinister powers of seduction, you'd be the first to know."

A dark flush stained his cheeks. He fixed his gaze on Carter. "I don't know what game you think you're playing, but you need to get rid of her."

Carter stayed unfazed. "She's harmless—unless you're a drug-pushing god or a nephilim. Or an introverted writer."

Yasmine flinched, her cheerful countenance becoming sober. "Don't joke about nephilim."

"In fact," Carter obliviously continued, "she might fix that little logistical problem. Georgina, I don't suppose you'd mind playing hostess, would you? Vincent needs a place to stay while he's in town."

I arched an eyebrow in surprise. Misinterpreting my silence, Vincent hastily added, "It's okay if you don't want to. I mean, you don't even know me. I can see how that'd be weird."

"I don't know," I told him, even more curious as to what was transpiring with this odd group. "If angels vouch for you…well, you can't really get a better recommendation than that. If you don't mind sleeping on the couch, it's fine by me."

"You're a pearl among succubi," Carter declared.

Joel nearly choked on his drink. Considering his stick-up-the-ass attitude, I doubted he had anything alcoholic. Probably Kool-Aid or Pepsi. Diet Pepsi, at that.

"Are you out of your mind?" he exclaimed. "She's a succubus. You can't subject him to that. Think about his soul."

"She's not really into nice guys," Carter said. "Usually. You won't have a problem."

Yasmine offered Vincent a playful look. "He's not that nice anyway."

"Carter—" began Joel.

"I told you, she's fine. Let it go. You have my word. Besides, she won't ask any questions, and it'll give him an accessible place to stay while you guys search."

I jumped on the word "search." Now we were getting somewhere. "What are you guys looking for?"

Dead silence met me. Whitney crossed her arms. Vincent sipped his drink.

"Okay, I get it." I finished the gimlet with a gulp. "Need to know basis. Mum's the word. Hush-hush and all that."

Yasmine's easy grin returned. "I love her, Carter. No wonder you keep her around."

She then started talking about another succubus she'd met in Boston, smoothly changing subjects as deftly as Carter could. Guessing what I was thinking, Carter caught my eye and grinned. I rolled my own eyes in exasperation.

Nonetheless, as the evening progressed, I found myself liking Yasmine immensely. She, Vincent, and Carter carried most of the conversation, and while angels weren't nearly as fun as the rest of my friends, I found this group entertaining in their own way. They also swore and drank a lot less, but well, nobody's perfect.

When the bar closed, I took Vincent with me, but not before Joel issued warnings about the sanctity of the human soul. Vincent listened to it with a patient face, nodding along at the key parts.

"Is he always like that?" I asked on the drive home.

Vincent laughed. "He can't help it. He means well. He's just worried about me."

"Are you worried?"

"Nah. You're pretty cute, but no, I'm not worried. I'm already in love with someone."

I started to joke that that was no protection against anything, that I'd seduced plenty of guys who thought they were in love. Something in his voice stopped my quip. The way he spoke implied that being in love was indeed protection from me and all the other evils of the world. He spoke like one who was invincible. I suddenly felt sad.

"Good for you," I said softly.

He cut me a sidelong look. "You're okay for a succubus."

"Okay enough to tell me what you and the Super Friends are doing in town?"

A smile flashed back over his face. "No."

At home, I set him up on the couch, producing piles of blankets to keep him warm. I kept my apartment at a steamy temperature most of the time, but it was December, and the part of me that still remembered huddling around meager fires in days gone by felt one could never have enough blankets.

I soon went to bed, buried under my own stash of covers. This time, I didn't dream.

After a good night's sleep, I went to work the next morning, feeling a bit more optimistic about life. I decided Tawny had probably already scored last night, and Niphon was on his way to the airport. Plus, I'd get to see Seth soon since he had made my place of employment, Emerald City Books & Café, his writing headquarters. Yes, it wouldn't be such a bad day.

Due to my ex-manager's complicated pregnancy, I'd recently inherited her position. This had left my old assistant-manager position vacant, and we'd ended up hiring Maddie Sato who just happened to be the sister of Doug Sato—the other assistant manager. It had been a stunning display of favoritism, and Doug had thrown a fit, complaining how we'd just lowered his coolness rating by ten points. As it was, Maddie already lived with him. She'd come to visit after his recent hospitalization and never really left. She had a second job as a freelance writer at a feminist magazine, and working at Emerald City gave her a more stable source of income.

I liked Maddie. She was smart and capable and had a twisted sense of humor that spoke to mine. She worked well with customers and was always very polite in a professional capacity. For example, she could get caught up talking with Seth about ‘writerly' topics and function beautifully. But, when it came to friendlier and more interpersonal stuff, her social skills were a bit lacking. After a particularly analytical writing discussion, Seth had once made an off-hand comment about her childhood, and she'd frozen up. Seeing him with someone even more socially awkward than he was had been amusing, but mostly I'd felt disappointed at her relapse. I'd made good progress in getting her to come out of her shell and knew how fun she could be. I wanted everyone else to see it too.

Today I found her upstairs in the café, sitting at the table Seth had staked out with his laptop. It apparently wasn't a writerly day because Doug sat with them. He and Maddie appeared to be in some sort of heated argument. Seth sat between them, looking like he desperately wanted to be somewhere else. Catching my eye, he gave me a pleading look. I purposely slid a chair up beside him, forcing Doug to scoot his own chair over. No one knew Seth and I were dating, and the Sato siblings were so caught up in the discussion they didn't think anything of the chair placement.