“Noelle wants to punish the person who did it,” I pointed out.
“They’re never going to find that out. There’s both enough and not enough evidence on all three of us. No clear decision. In that case, she’s going to just take it out on me. She hates me. Hates that Anthony . . .” She trailed off, and I was pretty sure she’d been on the verge of saying “love.” Something else I didn’t expect from a demon. “. . . that Anthony and I were involved. When she told him to end our relationship, he argued against it. He wanted a transfer, and she was going to try to block it; that’s why he was so angry the day Clyde saw him. You can’t imagine how jealous that made her—that Anthony would stand up for me. So, if she can’t figure out who did it, she’ll settle for seeing me punished. She’ll do it out of spite.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t . . .” But I wondered. Demons did stuff like that. And I’d seen Noelle’s face when she talked about Anthony. His death had hurt her. When people get hurt, they tend to lash out to make themselves feel better. Torturing a romantic rival was just as good a way as any.
Like Noelle, Starla didn’t need to use any powers to know what I was thinking. “You know,” she told me. “You know she can do it. And you must know what it’s like . . . being hated by other women.”
A few moments of silence passed, then the demoness took a deep breath. She opened her mouth, swallowed, then said with great effort: “Please.”
I stared. My mind couldn’t handle any more demonic discoveries. “Please” wasn’t in a demon’s vocabulary. I was pretty sure they spontaneously combusted if that word crossed their lips. Maybe that was what had happened to Anthony.
“Please,” she repeated, blue eyes wide. “Please help me with this. Maybe I can’t offer you anything now . . . but someday I could do you a favor. Please. Just vote for one of the others.”
Her pain made my own chest ache. “I want to . . . but I have to make sure . . . make sure I’m making the right choice . . .”
“It wasn’t me,” she said, eyes locked on mine. “I don’t care what idiocy Margo was babbling about. That ‘If I can’t have him . . .’ line is absurd. I l-loved Anthony. Why would I hurt him?”
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe in love and all the noble ideals it entailed. I shook my head.
“People do stupid things for love. Especially if they’re afraid of losing the ones they love.”
Starla stared at me for several more seconds, sighed, and then vanished.
* * *
Seth showed up later that evening, looking rather pleased with himself. I was lying on the bed, watching a reality dating show. The conversation with Starla had left me introspective.
“You get a lot of work done?” I asked.
“Tons.”
He set the laptop on the desk and lay down beside me. His hand found mine, and he squeezed it contentedly.
We watched those poor, pathetic souls on TV for a while, but soon, I couldn’t take it anymore. With great effort, I kept my voice as level as possible.
“Where’d you work today?”
Seth’s eyes were on the screen where some girl ranted about how her boyfriend had slept with her mother. Most of her tirade was bleeped out.
“Hmm?” he asked. A moment later, he processed the question. “That diner again.”
The fucking diner. Fantastic.
“Ah,” I said. “You must like that place.”
“They have good pumpkin pie.”
And good company, I thought. Beth’s cute face and jaunty ponytail flashed into my head. It was stupid. I had nothing to be insecure about. She was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Seth wasn’t going to run off with her. Even if he did want to do something physical with her, it’d be nothing. Cheap, meaningless sex.
Suddenly, it was as though Kurtis was leaning over me with his laughing face.
It would kill you if he slept with someone else.
Gritting my teeth, I reached for the remote and turned the TV off. Seth glanced over at me in surprise. Shifting onto my knees, I crawled over and straddled him.
“What’s this?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
“I’m tired of watching other people’s love lives.”
I pulled my shirt off over my head and tossed my hair back. Seth, still with a half-smile, watched me. His eyes drifted down to where a black velvet bra held my breasts. A cute little gold clasp unfastened in the front. I had better breasts than that whore waitress, of that I was certain. Better shape, better size. Grabbing his hands, I slowly slid them up my stomach, careful to avoid the breasts themselves. It was always a delicate balance, this pseudo-making out. Too much, and we’d be courting danger.
My skin tingled as those fingertips slid across it. I brought his hands to the clasp, and he deftly unfastened it. Carefully, he peeled it away, and I wriggled it off my arms. His hands immediately withdrew, staying clear. Balance, balance. Always balance.
I slid off of him. Standing by the bed, I slowly and deliberately pushed my skirt down my legs. I wasn’t wearing any stockings today, only a matching black velvet thong. It was my own creation. I’d searched high and low for one for a while. No luck, so I’d used my own resources. Shape-shifting was like a never-ending shopping trip.
My suitcase sat near the bed, and I rummaged through it, bending over as I did to give him a full view of my ass. Seth, I had long since discovered, wasn’t a breast man or an ass man or anything like that. He was non-discriminatory. He appreciated it all.
Soon, I found what I wanted: a bottle of rosemary-scented oil that I’d brought along. Turning back to him, I poured some of the liquid on my hands, rubbing them until they were slick and shiny. I set the bottle down and brought my hands to my breasts, stroking them at an agonizingly slow pace—not unlike how Clyde had spread the life energy onto me. The memory made me shiver. The spicy scent of rosemary drifted around me as I leisurely rubbed the oil into my skin. My breasts took on the wet, gleaming look my hands had.
After several lifetimes of countless lovers, it always surprised me that I could turn myself on by doing this to myself. I think, however, it had less to do with my own skill and more with the act of being with Seth.
He still looked mildly amused, hands folded across his stomach as he watched me. I met his gaze full-on, knowing mine was smoky and full of sex. His was alert and interested, though I could read little beyond that.
When my breasts and stomach were finally oiled to my satisfaction, I moved one hand down, slipping it inside the front of the thong. A cry that wasn’t faked left my lips. I was warm and slick between my thighs, hardly in need of any oil. My fingers stroked me slowly, then found their way into me. In and out I moved them, attempting to quench a desire for him that would never really be adequately fulfilled. My moans came soft and low as I got myself off, my mind ablaze with images of Seth’s body moving against mine.
I didn’t realize my eyes were closed until I had to open them. Still touching myself, I regarded him curiously.
“How do you want me to finish it?” I asked in a breathy voice. “Keep standing? Lay down?”
His eyes traveled down, watching my skilled hand. Sometimes he would touch himself when I did this; sometimes he’d wait until afterward. Since his hands were still folded, I assumed it would be the latter.
“Actually . . .” he began, hesitation in his words. The half-smile was gone. “There’s, um, no need.”
My hand froze, oblivious to the rest of my body’s outrage.
“I . . . what?”
Sheepishly, he shrugged. “I mean, you’re beautiful. Like always. Sexy. Really sexy. But, well . . . I’m not really into it tonight.”
I stared, unable to speak. What kind of guy isn’t into a succubus masturbating in front of him?
“You can finish for yourself, though, if you want,” he added hastily, helpfully.
My brain started working again, and I pulled my hand out. “No . . .” I said slowly. “It’s fine.”
I shape-shifted away the velvet and oil. Jeans and a T-shirt took their place. Returning to the bed, I settled down beside Seth. This time, we didn’t touch.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I’m kind of . . . tired.”
“It’s fine,” I repeated. I reached for the remote and turned the TV on again.
Neither of us brought the matter up again, but I was reeling. I’d just been rejected. This had never happened with us before. And what was up with the tired line? That was the lamest excuse in the book.
Beth, I thought. It had to be that goddamned waitress. But how, exactly? Had he fucked her in the diner’s bathroom? I found that unlikely. Too unsanitary. Maybe she was just on his mind. Maybe that working girl image was what turned him on now, so much so that my seductive attempts were about as effective as a cold shower.
No, I thought. There was nothing wrong with me. I had no reason to feel insecure, not when it came to stuff like this. No way was he not attracted to me.
Seth turned his head to look at me. I must have had a troubled look on my face. He lightly brushed my cheek.
“I’m tired, Thetis. Really.”
“It’s fine,” I said.
Chapter Eight
If Seth had any lingering feelings from last night, he didn’t show it. He showered and packed up his bag like normal, called me Thetis, and regarded me with all the affection he normally did. I watched him as he moved toward the door.
“You going to that diner again?” I asked carefully.
He glanced up, face momentarily distracted. I could tell he was already getting sucked into the whirling plots of his stories.
“Hmm? Ah, no . . . they’re closed on Sundays. Gonna go over to that coffee shop across the street.”
“The one with the pig on the front? It looks horrible.”
“Yeah. But just because it’s not kosher . . .”
I groaned. “Oh my God. I really sleep with you?”
He grinned, one of the rare, genuine ones that flashed across his face like a sunrise breaking over the horizon.
“Yes. Happily.”
He brushed a kiss over my mouth, then headed out. I stared at the door a few moments, felt a smile of my own cross my lips, and left shortly thereafter, suddenly feeling cheery about life again.
That cheeriness faded when I reached my destination for the day. The trial was over, the ballroom empty. No more court. Now it was time for the jury to deliberate.
Apparently, Hell had decided it couldn’t spring to pay for another conference room in the hotel. The thirteen of us instead found ourselves crammed into one of the jurors’ rooms. Admittedly, it was a nice room, but there wasn’t enough space, and I chose to sit cross-legged on the floor. No one paid any attention to me, so I tried to make myself small as I listened to the conversation.
“I’m telling you, the internet is going to send more souls our way than the Inquisition and the Pill combined,” one demon was saying. He had slicked-back brown hair and a weak chin.
Peanut Butter Guy shook his head. He looked remarkably alert today. “The internet’s taking souls from us,” he argued. “People don’t have to sin in the real world anymore. They can do it virtually.”
“Doesn’t matter if they’re actually doing it,” said Weak Chin. “So long as they feel guilt from it. You don’t think a married minister looking at gay porn isn’t doing mental self-flagellation? Besides, the internet’s a gateway sin. Experience it enough virtually, and eventually you crave the real thing.”
“Let’s not forget child predators,” piped up a demoness who was idly flipping through channels. She had full lips painted glossy and bright with magenta lipstick. “You think they’d have as much access to thirteen-year-olds without the internet?”
“Oh, fuck,” said Peanut Butter. “I love when Chris Hansen does those Dateline specials.”
“Oh yeah,” said Weak Chin excitedly. He appeared to have forgotten his earlier argument. “Did you see that one last week? With that guy they caught again?”
The entire room grew enthusiastic.
“That was fantastic! How could he let Dateline bust him twice? How stupid do you have to be?”
“Guys like that are keeping our coffers full.”
“Yup, that and craigslist.”
There was a pause, and then they all burst into laughter.
I sighed.
Eventually, the rest of the jurors showed up. I straightened, figuring we’d get down to business now. Instead, the newcomers simply joined in on the internet conversation, which had now strayed into My Space and stealing wireless internet.
After about a half hour of this, I took advantage of a momentary lull to ask, “Um . . . so, are we going to talk about the trial?”
Twelve sets of eyes turned to me. Silence.
I shifted uncomfortably. “I mean. Isn’t that why we’re here? To reach a decision?”
Weak Chin finally spoke. “Already reached mine. Clyde.”
The demoness with magenta lips glared at him. “Starla.”
“Kurtis.”
“Starla.”
They went around the room. Four, four, and four.
“What about you?” asked Magenta Lips.
“Um, well . . . I don’t know. That’s why I figured we’d be discussing it.”
“Nothing to discuss,” said another demon.
“How can you guys be so—” I stopped myself. “Oh. The bribes. That’s why you’re voting.”
“Of course,” chuckled Peanut Butter. “Why else?”
“I don’t know . . . to get to the truth.”
They all started laughing again. Even more than when craigslist had been mentioned.
“Darling, you’ve got a lot to learn.”
“What do you expect? Putting a succubus on a jury.”
“Well, yeah, but fuck. That was brilliant. Jerome’s drinking mai tais somewhere while we have to put up with this shit.”
“And a goddamned Marriott too.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. A moment later, I opened them.
“Okay,” I said. “Even if you’re voting by bribe, we still have to reach a unanimous decision.”
They considered, and then, the whole room burst into noise. Arguments broke out as everyone tried to convince/ bully others into voting their way. It was dizzying. Most of them tried to do it by offering bribes of their own. There was more negotiating than in a game of Monopoly. Some, however, tried to do it by force. As I’d noted earlier, this wasn’t the most powerful group of demons I’d ever seen, but they could compete with each other. As tempers rose, I felt power flare, filling the room like static before a storm.
I shrank back, briefly considered turning invisible, but knew it wouldn’t matter with this group.
Finally, after a few more hours, our deliberation ended for the day. We dispersed, off to do our different things. No decision had been reached.
I left the room, nearly dizzy. Fuck. What had that all been about? We weren’t going to reach a decision any time this millennium. I’d be stuck in Los Angeles forever. Seth would marry Beth and have ten kids. I’d have to move in furniture to the Marriott.
Speaking of Seth, I decided seeing him was exactly what I needed. That calm nature would help soothe my frazzled nerves and forget the day’s insanity.
I’d reached the lobby when I felt someone walking with me.
“How’d it go?”
I glanced over at Kurtis’ laughing face. I sighed. So much for forgetting the insanity.
“Not so well.”
“Hmm. Not surprised. Bribes have been flying fast and furious. What’s the split right now?”
“Four, four, and four.”
“Really? I’m surprised it isn’t even more split.”
I stared. “How could it be more split than that?”
“Write-ins.” He grinned. “What’s your vote?”
“I don’t have one.”
His eyebrows rose in mock astonishment. “Really? Eve
n with all the lovely things you’ve been offered?”
“I told you. I don’t go for that.”
“How are things with your guy?”
“Fine,” I said automatically. “We have a great relationship.”
“But not the kind where you wrap your bodies around each other and break out the handcuffs.”
“Will you stop this?” I asked. “I already told you I’m not going for any of that. You’re wasting your time.”
“If your relationship’s so great, then why isn’t he here?”
“Because he’s working.”
“With Golden Girl.”
“No,” I declared loftily. “He’s not even at that diner today.”
“Why? Are they closed?”
“I have places to be,” I snapped.
“Of course you do. Off to beg for his attention, right? Make him notice you with your stunning wit and charm, hoping desperately to keep him captivated while his eyes and thoughts stray to other women . . .”
In normal circumstances, I never would have walked out on a demon. But Kurtis was powerless to hurt me just now, so I picked up my pace and stormed out the front doors. I knew he could have easily reached me again, but fortunately, he didn’t.
I crossed the street over to the coffee shop Seth had gone to and paused in front of the window. He sat there working, no cute waitresses in sight. I breathed a sigh of relief.
My insecurity embarrassed me. There was no reason I should let Kurtis’ words get to me. I knew that. I trusted Seth. I trusted his love. Yet . . . the demon had been effective. Not surprising, of course. He was, well, a fucking demon. And Seth had refused my advances last night.
I stared at Seth, willing the queasy feeling in my chest to go away.
Hoping desperately to keep him captivated while his eyes and thoughts stray to other women . . .
Not tonight, Thetis.
I swallowed. And then . . . I did the craziest thing I’d done in a while. I slipped into the coffee shop, carefully avoiding his line of sight. Not that it would have mattered. He was so engrossed, like always, that a marching band could have come through without him noticing. I went straight to the bathroom, shut the door, and changed my shape.