Richelle Mead - Succubus Blues

Click, click. Once started, the dominoes in my head tumbled forward in a rush. I thought about Harrington's book: the corrupted angels taught "charms and enchantments" to their wives while their offspring ran wild... Charms. Like the obsolete one on Jerome's wall. It's to remind me who we're dealing with — as if there was any possible way I could forget, he had explained offhandedly.

Carter had told me demons generally get into hunting down nephilim. Nanette had wanted to come and help with this one, but Jerome wouldn't let her, thus minimizing those involved. Carter he had kept on hand for the kill, however. Wouldn't Jerome want to do it himself? I had wondered, but the angel had evaded answering.

Still the dominoes fell. Nephilim inherit a lot more than half their parent's power, though they can never exceed it. Jerome's words to us last week, again spoken casually, just after my attack. Only minutes ago, I had wondered at his confidence at being stronger than the nephilim, questioning how he could be so certain. But of course he could be. Divine genetics had already dictated the parameters.

"Georgina? Where are you going?" Cody exclaimed as I strode out of the room, back toward the still-roaring argument down the hallway.

"Look," Carter was saying, "it won't hurt anything to just—"

"It's yours," I cried to Jerome, attempting to stare him down—difficult, since he was taller than me. "The nephilim is yours."

"My problem?"

"No! You know what I mean. Your child. Your son... or daughter... or whatever."

Silence descended, and Jerome stared at me with those piercing black eyes, boring right into my soul. I expected at any moment to be blasted across the room. Instead, all he asked was, "So?"

Startled at his mild response, I swallowed. "So... so... why didn't you just tell us? From the beginning? Why such secrecy?"

"As you can perhaps imagine, this is not a topic I enjoy bringing up. And contrary to popular belief, I do feel entitled to some privacy."

"Yes, but..." Now that it was out, I didn't know what to say or think or do. "What will happen? What are you going to do?"

"The same thing I've been planning on doing. We will find this creature and destroy it."

"But it... he or she... is yours..."

I, who had so jealously and longingly watched Paige's growing pregnancy and Seth's bevy of nieces, could not even begin to fathom calmly announcing the murder of one's offspring.

"It doesn't matter," the demon said simply. "It's a liability, a danger to the rest of us. My connection to it is irrelevant."

"You... you keep saying 'it.' Are you so detached that you can't even... you know, call it by name or gender? What is it anyway? A son or a daughter?"

He hesitated a moment, and I detected a faint trace of unease in that cool mask. "I don't know."

I stared. "What?"

"I wasn't there when it was born. When I found out she... my wife... was pregnant, I left. I knew what would happen. I was neither the first—nor the last—to take a mortal wife. Plenty of nephilim had been born and destroyed by that point. We all knew what they were capable of. The right thing to do when it was born would have been to destroy it right then." He paused, once more perfectly expressionless. "I couldn't do it. I left, so I wouldn't have to deal with it, so I wouldn't have to make that choice. It was a coward's way out."

"Did you... ever see her again? Your wife?"

"No."

Speechless, I wondered what she must have been like. I barely understood Jerome now as a demon, let alone before he fell. He hardly ever showed any sort of emotion or affection for anyone; I couldn't imagine what kind of a woman would have so overcome him that he would turn his back on all he held sacred. And yet, despite that love, he had still left, never to see her again. She would have been dead for millennia by now. He had left to save their child, only to once again be faced with holding its life in his hands. The whole thing was heartbreaking, and I wanted to do something—hug the demon, maybe—but I knew he wouldn't thank me for my sympathy. He was already too embarrassed at us finding out about all of this.

"So you've never seen it? How do you know for sure this one is yours?"

"The signature. When I feel it, I feel half of my own aura and half of... hers. No other creature could have that combination."

"And you've felt that every time?"

"Yes."

"Wow. Yet you know nothing else about it."

"Correct. As I said, I was gone long before it was born."

"Then... then it would make sense that you really are a target," I told him, gesturing to the wall. "Even independent of all this. The nephilim has especial reason to be pissed off at you."

"Thanks for the unconditional support."

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant... the nephilim already have good cause to be angry. Everybody hates them and tries to kill them. And this one... well, people spend thousands of dollars on therapy to get over bad experiences with their fathers. Imagine what kind of neuroses would develop after several thousand years."

"Are you suggesting a family counseling session, Georgie ?"

"No... no, of course not. Although... I don't know. Have you tried talking to it? Reasoning with it?" I remembered Erik's comment about nephilim just wanting to be left alone. "Maybe you could work something out."

"All right, this conversation is growing more absurd, if that's possible." Jerome turned to Carter. "You want to take them home now?"

"I'm staying with you," the angel stated flatly.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, I thought we settled this—"

"He's right," I piped up. "The warning phase is over. I'm safe now."

"We don't know—"

"And besides, this wasn't so much about my safety anyway as having Carter keep me from finding out the truth about your family problems. It's too late now, and I'm tired of having a shadow. You keep him, and we'll all sleep easy, even if it is overkill."

"Eloquently put," chuckled Carter.

Jerome still protested, and we bickered a bit more about it, but in the end, the decision rested in Carter's hands. Jerome had no power to order him around; indeed, if Carter wanted to follow the demon indefinitely, there was nothing Jerome could do, not really. They weren't going to wage any epic battles with each other, no matter how annoyed they currently seemed.

Carter did agree to teleport us back, though I suspected it was more of a kind gesture to make sure Cody and I could never find Jerome's place again. After he'd taken the vampire home, Carter transported me to my living room, hesitating before he disappeared again.

"It is better this way, I think," he told me. "Me staying with Jerome. I know the nephilim can't be stronger than him... but there's still something weird going on. I'm not convinced you're out of danger either, but whatever's going on with you is something entirely different." He shrugged. "I don't know. There are a lot of hard calls here; I wish Jerome would let us get a little outside help. Not too much, of course. Just something. Anything."

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'll manage. You can't be everywhere at once."

"Isn't that the truth. I'll have to ask this nephilim how it does it when this is over."

"You can't question the dead."

"No," he agreed grimly. "You can't." He turned as if to depart.

"It's weird..." I began slowly. "The whole idea of Jerome loving someone. And falling because of it."

He gave me one of those canny, creepy smiles. "Love doesn't make angels fall, Georgina. If anything, love can have quite the opposite effect."

"So, what? If Jerome fell in love again, he could turn back into an angel?"

"No, no. It's not quite that simple." Seeing my baffled look, he chuckled and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. "Watch out for yourself, Daughter of Lilith. Call if you need help."