I neither packed nor called Dante when I got home. I was exhausted. Talking to Seth had been too depressing. I lived too close to the bookstore, I decided. What had once been convenient now felt oppressive. A few blocks simply wasn't enough distance between Seth and me. I kind of wished Emerald City had another branch somewhere that I could work. In lieu of that, maybe I was the one who needed to find a new residence. My lease here was ending soon, and until now, I'd never considered anything except renewing. Moving was a startling-and weirdly appealing-thought, and I pondered it as I drifted off to sleep that night, my cat Aubrey snuggled against my legs.
The next morning, I had to scramble to pack my things. Jerome hadn't given me any specific time to be in Vancouver, only "soon." I decided not to test the exact terms of that. Packing didn't take long, fortunately. I could shape-shift any clothing I wanted, but I had some favorites I preferred to just take with me. It was another lingering human habit. There were also cosmetics and other toiletries I wanted with me; I liked to do my own hair and makeup if I had the time.
I was pouring my third cup of coffee in the kitchen when I felt the tingle of immortal signatures appear in my living room. Only a higher immortal, like a demon or angel, could directly teleport in, and I immediately recognized these two. Grace and Mei.
They were Jerome's lieutenant demonesses. Heaven ran its agenda in a haphazard way, but ours was carefully organized. Territory was parceled out to archdemons, who in turn controlled a network of subordinate demons and lesser immortals like me and my friends: succubi, vampires, and imps. Jerome handled the big issues in the area, went to meetings with the demons who were above him, and was in charge of discipline. Grace and Mei handled the minutiae and paperwork and also kept an eye on the far reaches of Jerome's territory, areas he was too busy for and uninterested in. His full jurisdiction actually stretched along the coast of western Washington, though his base of operation was the Seattle metropolitan area. That was also where most of his staff was located. He only kept an occasional eye on the outskirts and left it to Grace and Mei to keep him apprised of what occurred there.
For whatever reason, the demonesses always wore matching clothing. Today they sported black pantsuits, tailored to a perfect fit. Grace was blond and Mei black-haired, but their hairstyles were also similar: bluntly cut at the chin. Both wore brick-red lipstick.
"Good morning, Georgina," said Grace.
"We're here with last-minute instructions," said Mei.
"Oh, okay." I was relieved. I'd been afraid Jerome had sent them to find out why I hadn't already crossed the Canadian border. "You guys want some coffee?"
I offered them something every time they were here, and every time, they refused. So, I was a bit astonished when Grace asked, "What kind?"
"Um...Starbucks. Their house blend."
"No," replied Grace and Mei in unison.
I shrugged and sat down on the couch. Aubrey had been lying there a minute ago but was nowhere in sight now. She hated these two. Mostly they creeped me out. "Okay," I asked. "What's the scoop?"
They remained standing. Mei crossed her arms. "Jerome wants you to understand the situation with Cedric. The two of them have had a...disagreement over territorial lines."
This perked my interest. "Ah. It's him, then. We'd heard Jerome had something going on with another demon."
"The two of them had been eyeing each other's areas," explained Grace. "In the hopes of expanding their own boundaries into one large Pacific Northwest..." She paused thoughtfully.
"...empire?" I suggested. She shrugged by way of agreement.
"Something like that," said Mei. "But eventually, they put the dispute aside and gave up, each settling for their current territories. That's why Jerome is lending you to Cedric, as a sign of good will."
I was too intrigued to retort about the degradation of Jerome "lending" me to anyone. "Jerome doesn't do things out of good will," I pointed out, recalling his snide remark about altruism last night. "There's more going on."
Grace nodded. "Indeed. Jerome suspects that Cedric actually hasn't given up the struggle and is still plotting against him. Jerome wants you to spy and report back."
Oh, I didn't like that. Not at all.
"He wants me to spy on another demon? An arch demon? Do you know what kind of trouble I could get in if Cedric finds out?"
Neither demoness said anything. It was no concern of theirs if I got smote. Considering Jerome's current attitude toward me, it probably wasn't much of a concern for him either, aside from having to send a requisition to Personnel for a new succubus.
"So," continued Mei, "you'll have two agendas. You need to let Jerome know what Cedric's doing. And, you need to infiltrate Cedric's problem cult and keep them in line-although, if you make things a little uncomfortable for Cedric along the way, Jerome won't mind."
"Right. The Canadian Satanists. What on earth are they doing that's such a big deal? Putting 666 on the backs of hockey jerseys?"
My joke had no effect on either demoness. Someday, I thought, I'd get one of them to crack a smile. "They're attracting attention, enough that Cedric's superiors are embarrassed. They'd prefer this cult conduct its evil in more subtle ways."
"Last I knew, true Satanists aren't actually evil per se," I mused. The rep aside, most Satanists were more into just acknowledging chaos and humanity's wild, base nature. "Most aren't actually out conducting bloody rituals or spray-painting pentagrams on walls."
"Actually," said Mei, "this group is spray-painting pentagrams on walls."
"Oh," I said. "That's lame."
"They think they're evil..." began Grace.
"...but they're not," finished Mei. "They need to be reined in."
"Okay, sure. No problem." Influencing wannabe Satanists was a piece of cake compared to spying on a demon. I glanced at the time. "Anything else? I should probably head out."
"Yes," said Mei. "Jerome wants you to check in on Tawny."
"Seriously?" I groaned. "He hates me."
The demonesses neither confirmed nor denied this statement.
"See you around, Georgina," said Grace.
"We'll check in," said Mei.
They vanished.
With a heavy heart, I finished my packing and told Aubrey good-bye. Then I lugged my suitcase down to my Passat, off to play Mata Hari. I just hoped my end would be better than hers.
Once you clear Everett, a naval city just north of Seattle, the drive up to Canada is pretty easy. The speed limit goes up, and the most exciting attractions along the way are casinos and outlet malls. About a half-hour from the border, I reached Bellingham, the current residence of Tawny Johnson.
Tawny was a succubus, a very new succubus. Technically, I was her mentor, but her assignment in Bellingham mercifully limited our interactions. She'd come to Seattle back in December and had gotten involved with an imp named Niphon who'd been trying to make my life more of a living hell than it already was. He'd roped her into his plans, and as angry as I'd been about it, I knew the fault was his more than hers. She hadn't really known what she was doing and had been convinced he could help fast-track her career. Nonetheless, she'd gotten in enough trouble that Jerome had sent her out of the city. It was better than being sent back to Hell, so really, the arrangement suited all of us just fine.
I gave her a call, and we met up at a caf¨¦ just off I-5. Tawny was easy to spot when she entered the place. Despite the fact that Tawny had been kind of a con artist when she was a mortal-a profession you'd think would lend itself well to succubus work-she was actually pretty horrible at seduction. Oh, she could still get guys to sleep with her, but it was more thanks to her availability rather than any particular wiles on her part. In particular, she was convinced that the most alluring form she could take was that of a six-foot blonde with breasts that would have given a human a back injury. Tawny also had a penchant for spandex and metallic fabrics that I found disturbing but that delighted Hugh and the vampires to no end. I made a mental note to tell them about the chartreuse hot pants she wore today.
"Georgina!" she exclaimed, dancing over to my table on gold stilettos. "I'm so happy to see you." She held out her arms, like maybe I was supposed to stand and hug her, but I remained sitting. Taking the hint, she sat down as well. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm going to Vancouver," I said, wrapping my hands around my white chocolate mocha. "Jerome wanted me to stop by and see how things were going."
Her eyes lit up. "Great! I've been spending a lot of time over at Western." She leaned forward and spoke in a sage voice. "You know, if you're ever having trouble getting someone into bed, you should go check out college guys. They're so easy."
"Thanks for the tip," I said dryly. "I'll keep it in mind."
She pursed her lips and eyed me. "Doesn't look like you need it, though," she added wistfully. "I could never get a glow like that."
Too bad she hadn't seen the glow in full effect yesterday. It would have blown her away. "You will," I said. "Someday." Some day far, far away. Tawny had miles to go before gaining the subtleties required to land really moral guys.
"I don't know how you do it. You aren't even blond. I mean, maybe a little, but mostly you're a brunette. I just don't see guys going for that."
My hair was long and light brown, lightly highlighted with gold. My eyes were a hazel-green that I also suspected didn't fit in with her worldview of what was sexy, at least if her baby blues were any indication. "Yeah, well, some people are into kinky stuff, I guess."
The waiter showed up and took our lunch orders. I made myself comfortable and prepared to do some mentoring.
"So," I said. "You got any questions?"
Tawny titled her head, long-lashed blue eyes filled with thought. "Yeah. There's something I've been wondering about."
"Okay, go for it."
"These colleges guys...they're kind of, like, fast."
"Fast?"
"Yeah. You get them into bed, and it's over before it begins."
"They're eighteen or twenty. Still pulsing with adolescent hormones. They don't really know what they're doing yet."
"Yeah, yeah, I know," she said. "Except, when you're going down on them, it takes forever . You know what I mean?"
I forced a straight face. "It's one of the mysteries of the universe, Tawny. You just gotta roll with it."
"But my mouth gets sore," she whined. "Makes my jaw ache the next day! Isn't there any way to speed it up?"
My immortal friends would die if they could hear this conversation. "You can try the 'don't stop' trick. Or maybe tell them you want them to come on your face. That'll get things moving."
"Ew! That's disgusting."
I shrugged. "Don't ask the question if you don't want to hear the answer."
"But how can I even say anything when my mouth is, well, you know..."
Thus went the rest of our lunch conversation, and blow jobs turned out to be the mildest of topics. Fortunately, no one sat within listening distance. I ate my chicken salad as fast as I could, eager to be on my way. As we were paying the bill, a thought came to me.
"Hey, Tawny. You're practically on top of Cedric's turf here. You ever see any signs of him and Jerome fighting?"
She shook her head. "No. I've never even met Cedric. But there's a vampire here in town who's mentioned them fighting before. He seems to think it's a big deal."
"Everyone seems to, and yet...I don't know. I have a weird feeling about all this. Like that someone's trying to cover up something."
Tawny placed some cash on the table, her clawlike nails lacquered and red. For half a moment, she looked remarkably wise. "Back when I was doing cons, the best way to pull one past people was to make a big deal about something else. Misdirection."
It was quite possibly the most intelligent thing I'd ever heard Tawny say. "Yeah, but if so, what are we being misdirected from?"
"Hell if I know. That's for smart people like you to figure out. I'm just trying to get college guys to speed up their blow jobs."
My first minute in Canada, I got pulled over.
Right after you go through customs, there's a short stretch of the freeway with an incredibly low speed limit. Every time I drive through there, I try to drive that speed. And I'm the only one who ever does it. All the locals zip through that area, already driving the speed that the freeway clicks up to about half a mile (or kilometer or whatever) later. Every time, just before I officially hit the higher speed zone, I finally crack and speed up too-and that's always when the cops get me. I've been pulled over three times.
This was my fourth.
I handed over my license and other pertinent paperwork to the cop. "American, eh?" he asked, like it wasn't perfectly obvious.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"You know you were speeding, don't you?" He mostly sounded curious, not harsh.
"Was I?" I asked blankly, looking at him with doe eyes. I saw the succubus glamour seize him. "But the sign said sixty-five."
"Sixty-five kilometers per hour," he corrected gently. "We use the metric system here."
I blinked. "Ohhhh. God, I forgot. I feel so stupid."
"It happens a lot," he said. He handed my stuff back without even running it. "I'll tell you what. I'll let you go this time. Just make sure you get the units right, eh? Your speedometer's got kilometers per hour underneath the miles per hour."
"Oh, that's what the little numbers are for, huh-er, eh?" I gave him a dazzling smile. "Thank you so much."
So help me, he tipped his hat. "Happy to help. Be careful now, and enjoy your stay."
I thanked him again and headed off. It's worth noting here that while I've been pulled over four times in this stretch, I've also gotten off four times.
Canadians. So nice.
I made it into downtown Vancouver without further incident and checked into my hotel. It was a boutique one over on Robson Street, and I decided maybe Jerome didn't hate me after all. Or at least, Hell's travel agency didn't hate me. Robson was a fun neighborhood, full of restaurants and shopping. I threw my stuff into my room and then headed off to meet Cedric. He would have sensed me crossing into his territory, but I wanted it officially noted for the record that I was here so that I didn't get in further trouble with Jerome.
Unlike Jerome, who was impossible to find sometimes, Cedric actually had a suite of offices over in the Financial District. I kind of liked that. The front desk was staffed by an imp named Kristin. She seemed pleasant enough, just incredibly busy. She told me I'd lucked out and that Cedric could fit me in right now. Walking into his office, I found him at his desk, reading something on Wikipedia. He glanced up.
"Oh. Jerome's succubus." He turned from the monitor and gestured to a chair opposite his desk. "Have a seat."
I sat down and immediately began assessing the office. Nothing about it screamed evil. It was neat and sleek, with an expansive window full of office buildings beyond him. Silver perpetual motion balls sat on his desk, and one of those framed motivational posters hung on the wall. It had a picture of a struggling pine sapling in front of a larger tree and read, DETERMINATION .
Cedric himself didn't look too evil either. He had an average build and pretty blue-gray eyes. He kept his hair shaved army-style, and like Kristin, the biggest vibe I got off him was busy. Inasmuch as one could be busy surfing Wikipedia, that is. I glanced at the screen, curious as to what he'd been looking at. Demonic takeovers, perhaps?
"Oh, that," he said, following my gaze. "Just a hobby of mine. It's the entry on marsupials. I just like going in sometimes and putting in incorrect information. It's always fun to see how long it takes them to notice. They're better about it than they used to be, but that just makes it more of a challenge. I just wrote about how marsupials are an integral part of the Lutheran Eucharist." He chuckled at his own ingenuity. "God, I hated the Reformation."
I smiled, not entirely sure what to say.
Cedric clasped his hands in front of him, face turning serious. "So, let's get down to business. You're here to spy on me."
My mouth opened, but nothing coherent came out right away. "Um..."
He waved his hand. "No, no, it's fine. You don't honestly expect me to believe Jerome would do me a favor without strings attached? Whatever. I don't have anything to hide. He can keep his territory-I'm too busy watching my own. You can tell him whatever you want so long as you do what I need you to."
"Right," I said, finding my voice at last. "Your embarrassing Satanic cult."
He grimaced. "God, those guys are such a pain in the ass. What do you know about them?"
"That they aren't Satanists like the usual groups, not like Anton LaVey's followers or the anti-Christians." I felt like a student reciting in front of a class.
"They think they're anti-Christian, but mostly, they're just ridiculous. Just some flakes in search of identity who got together and thought it'd be cool to be evil. They have meetings in robes and keep making up secret handshakes."
"And that's a problem?"
"Nah, I don't care about any of that. They can play dress-up all they want. What's annoying is that they're doing all the things people think evil people do but don't actually do. They ripped up a bunch of bibles once and left them on this church's lawn. They also appear to have a fondness for spray paint."
"I heard about that."
"They keep writing stupid stuff like 'The Angel of Darkness is Lord' and 'What Would Satan Do?'" Cedric rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like that's original."
"I can see why you'd be embarrassed," I admitted.
"No kidding. The worst part is that they're attracting some media attention- especially among local churches. So, now those guys are doing their own sort of backlash and triggering a whole bunch of demonstrations about faith and light and all that stuff. Not what we need. Kind of defeats our purpose, really."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Kristin hangs out with them sometimes. They know her and recognize what side she works for, but frankly, she doesn't have the people skills to manipulate them. She'll take you to them and give them some bullshit about how you're high-ranking in the ways of evil or something equally absurd. Then, I want you to hang out with them and just be part of their group. Stop them from doing more stupid things. Get them to go back to their role-playing in the basement. Hell, if you can convince them to disband, go for it." He eyed me. "You're a succubus. You've been around for a while. You should be able to talk them into anything."
I nodded. "I can."
"Good. I'm tired of them. I'm not allowed to interfere directly, and my own people are too busy." He stood up and walked toward the door. I took the hint and followed. "Do whatever you want the rest of the day. Kristin'll take you over to them tomorrow. Check them out. See what you think. I've got some appointments in the morning, but stop by anyway and give me your impressions of those fools."
"Is there anything in particular you want me to find out for you?"
"Yes," he said. "In addition to keeping them out of trouble, I want you to simply observe them. They're not just attracting media attention-they're attracting attention from my superiors." Ah, yeah. Hell could get pissy about that kind of thing. "If someone's purposely manipulating them, I want to know."
"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.