CHAPTER 10
Dante promptly passed out after sex later that night, but I stayed awake for a while. Rolling over at last, I turned my back to him and stared at my bedside table. I'd set Seth's book there, and now its spine stared out at me, like we were having a showdown to see who would look away first. Seth had given it to me as a gift, possibly a peace offering, yet I was afraid of it, afraid of how I might feel if I opened it.
After ten minutes of staring, I finally reached for the book and scooted closer to the bed's edge so that I could get more light from my tiny reading lamp. Curling onto my side, I took a deep breath and opened up All Fools Night .
First came the title page, then the dedication: For my niece Brandy, who dreams of great things and will achieve greater ones still . It was embarrassing, but I had almost for a moment speculated whether he might have dedicated the book to me. He'd finished it right around the time we first started dating, but he'd been editing and making small changes right up until the time we broke up. It was vanity, I supposed, to think there might be some sign of my time with Seth in the book.
Yet, when I turned the page, I wondered. Before the first chapter, Seth always had a quote, something from a speech or possibly a verse from a poem that was relevant to the book. This was from a song:
And if I only could
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get Him to swap our places
- "Running Up That Hill," by Kate Bush
I read the lyrics a couple of times, wondering if there was more to them or if I just wanted there to be more to them. I'd heard the song a long time ago, and it had had that poppy synth feel so common to music in the 1980s. I didn't recall this particular part. Finally, dragging my eyes away, I moved onto the heart of the book.
Before meeting Seth, I'd rationed myself while reading his novels. I would only read five pages a day because I'd wanted to prolong the sweetness of that first reading. When something was really good, it was easy to dive into it, and before you knew it, the moment was gone. You'd burned through it. I experienced that too frequently in my long existence, and a strict reading schedule was a weak attempt to slow things down. When I settled into this book, though, I didn't really have a plan, and before long, I knew stopping at five pages was impossible.
It was exquisite. While he had a few self-standing novels, this series-Cady and O'Neill-was his flagship one. At its basic level, this was just a mystery book, yet there was a wonderful, lyrical quality to Seth's writing that elevated him above the genre ghetto. Sure, there was action and a trail of clues, but his characters were also evolving, always growing in ways both wonderful and heartbreaking. Seth had a way of describing their feelings and their reactions in a style that was so real, it resonated with my own life and left an ache in my chest. Whether that was for his art or for the man himself, I couldn't say.
It was only when Dante rolled over that I'd realized I'd been sniffling.
"Are you crying, succubus?"
"It's this book," I said.
I had just read a section where Cady and O'Neill were having a profound talk about life, and O'Neill had commented that all people were seeking both damnation and forgiveness, needing each to make sense of their existence. I was crying because it was true and because Seth had known it was true.
"There are a lot of things to cry about in this world," Dante said through a yawn. "Not sure a book should be one of them. "
The clock read 4 a. m. by that point, and my eyes were bleary from tears and a need to sleep. I put down Seth's book-which I was now more than half-way through-and turned off the light. Dante shifted and threw an arm around me, resting his chin on my shoulder. His breathing grew heavy and regular, and before long, I joined him in sleep.
The phone woke me up at an ungodly hour later in the morning. Dante was gone already. I found that surprising, but seeing as he hadn't gotten three hours of sleep, it might not have been that much of a leap.
"Hello?" Finding the phone had been feat enough, let alone checking the caller ID. A frantic voice answered me.
"Georgina? This is Blake. "
"Blake?" I didn't think I knew any Blake.
"Don't tell me you forgot about us?"
He pronounced "about" as "aboot," and it came back to me through my sleep-addled brain. "Oh, God. I'm sorry. Blake. From the Army. " Him calling me couldn't be a good sign. I sat up straighter in bed. "What's going on?"
"They're doing something today. . . I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but I'm worried. I don't know much, except that it's big. "
I was up and moving now, clothes and hair shape-shifting as I walked. "Do you have anything else? A time or place?"
"Not yet. Evan's being really secretive about what he's telling us. He says the Angel wants it to be a need-to-know-thing and that we won't find out the details until the absolute last minute. "
"Fuck. " I suspected the Angel was also trying to limit my knowledge as well. Flattering, but frustrating. "Okay, well, listen, I'm in Seattle, but I'm getting on the road right now. I should be there in two hours. "
"You can't get up here in two hours," he said incredulously.
"I can if I don't drive the speed limit. "
There was a bit of congestion within the city itself, but once I got a little north of it, the traffic cleared up. It was the morning commute; everyone wanted to get into Seattle. Once I had clear highway ahead of me, I dialed Cedric. I knew he wasn't going to like my lack of information, but considering how angry he'd been after last time, I had to at least make the attempt here to keep myself out of trouble. It was Kristin who answered.
"He's having breakfast right now," she told me. "It's kind of a special time for him. He doesn't like to be disturbed. " There was an anxious tone to her voice, and I could almost picture her arranging a breakfast tray just-so for him.
"Yeah, well, he might be disturbed whether he likes it or not. " I told her what Blake had said, and her response was similar to mine.
"That's all you've got?"
"Their Angel's working on a need-to-know basis now," I said bitterly. "I'll let you know more when I learn more. I just figured Cedric should know. "
She sighed. "You're right. Thanks. Man, this is going to piss him off. He'll have no appetite at all. "
I made the drive in the two hours I'd quoted Blake and miraculously didn't get pulled over. I hadn't heard from him the entire time, so I dialed him once I was over the border and buying coffee. I'd found a Starbucks and took a secret thrill in defying the Tim Hortons domination. Except. . . once I had the coffee in hand, I decided a donut would be really good with it, so I walked over and got one from the Tim's across the street.
Blake didn't answer, so I tried Evan next and also got no answer. Frustrated, I drove over to Evan's house and knocked on the door for a while. I was nearly on the verge of climbing in through a back window when my phone rang again-and ironically, it was Evan himself.
"Georgina!" he exclaimed, sounding ecstatic. "Where are you? We need you here. "
"Where are you ?" I demanded.
"On the observation deck," he said.
"Observation deck of what?"
"The Space Needle. You live close by, don't you?"
I nearly dropped the phone. "You're in Seattle ?"
"Yeah!" I could perfectly picture that eager, zealous look of his. "Cool, huh? The Angel wanted us to expand our message. So, we're all up here with these banners that we're going to unfurl at the same time, and then we've got a few more surprises to-"
"Evan," I begged, sprinting toward my car. "Don't do it. You're stirring up more trouble than you realize. "
"That's the point!" he chuckled. "How long until you can be here?"
Once I told him I wasn't in the city, he lost interest, and my pleas became meaningless. As soon as we disconnected, I dialed Cedric, expecting to get Kristin. Instead, I got his voice mail. Somehow, that made me angry.
&nb
sp; "Cedric, this is Georgina. The Army isn't doing their thing here-they're down in Seattle right now. I hope you finally believe I didn't have anything to do with their stupid plans now! When Jerome finds out, it's going to be my ass on the line, and knowing my luck, he'll think you and I are working together. "
Yes, this was one of those situations in which there was no way I could win. I was going to get in trouble no matter what I did, but again, I had to attempt damage control. Jerome had a cell phone that he never answered and didn't even have voice mail for. Hugh was the best way to get a hold of him-but he didn't pick up either.
"Damn it!" I cried into his phone. "Doesn't anyone answer their fucking phones anymore?" I gave him a hasty recap of what was happening and told him to let Jerome or one of the demonesses know about the cult's plans, or else Jerome was going to get the same scrutiny from the higher-ups that Cedric had been getting.
After that, there was nothing left for me to do except hit the road to Seattle again-something I was not happy about. Fortunately, I was fully outside the commuting times now and again could enjoy easy driving as I zipped down I-5 at 75. Pretty Hate Machine blared on my speakers and was oddly soothing to my agitated mood. I eventually fell into that trance-like state drivers often get, with one part of my brain watching the road and the other frantically wondering if my warning had reached any of the Seattle demons in time to intercept the Army.
I had just cleared Everett, about a half-hour outside of Seattle, when it hit me.
A jolt of electricity shot through my body, making the world spin and my vision blur. I felt hot all over. My hands slipped on the wheel, nearly causing me to swerve into the neighboring lane. I had just enough bearings to slam on my hazard lights and pull off on the shoulder before I hit someone. A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach, then settled down, then swept through me again. Shifting the car into park, I put my head down on the steering wheel, hoping for some clarity. There was a buzzing in my ears, and my whole body shook.
What the hell? I didn't get sick. Ever. The only thing that could really affect me like this was drinking too much or indulging in other substances. I'd had food poisoning a couple of times, but it had been short-lived, and somehow I doubted that donut I'd had was doing this to me.
I lifted my head up a little, but the world kept rocking. Closing my eyes, I rested my cheek against the steering wheel and took a few deep breaths, hoping I wouldn't throw up. I had no idea what was going on here, but it would pass. It had to pass.
And it did-a little. I don't know how long I sat like that, maybe about fifteen minutes, but the next time I dared a peek up, the dizziness had lessened. The nausea was still there, but it too had dropped to a lower level. Deciding to risk it, I turned back onto I-5, anxious to finish my drive to the city and figure out what was wrong with me.
I made it back to town without causing an accident and nearly fell over trying to make it up my building's stairs. I didn't even bother with my suitcase and simply left it in the car. Once in my apartment, I headed straight for my room and crashed on the bed. Aubrey joined me and peered curiously at my face. I gave her a few pets, then let my hand slip down as I fell asleep, too weak to hold it up any longer.
I woke up almost two hours later, shaken out of sleep by knocking at my door. I sat up, relieved to find my stomach had settled. The light-headedness had also gone away. Maybe the donut had been defective after all. . . and yet, I had this weird feeling-this tiny, nagging suspicion-that something wasn't right. Only, I had no clue or evidence as to what it was. Ignoring it for now, I stumbled out to the living room and opened my door, not even bothering to look out the peephole.
Cody and Peter stood there, both of them grinning from ear to ear. "What do you want?" I asked, stepping aside for them when the door opened. "I was sleeping. "
"I can tell by your hair," said Peter, flouncing on my couch. "And what are you doing asleep? It's the middle of the day. "
Still groggy, I squinted at my clock. It was a little after three. "Yeah, I know. I didn't feel good. It's weird. I just suddenly felt wiped out and dizzy. "
That smile had never left Cody's face. He sat beside Peter. "How do you feel now?"
I shrugged and settled onto my loveseat. "Fine, I guess. A little tired, but the worst is over. " That nondescript something isn't right here feeling was still with me, though.
"You shouldn't be cooped up inside," said Peter. "It's a great day. "
"Look at all the sun," agreed Cody. "It's like summer came early. "
I followed his gaze to the window. Warm golden light spilled in onto my floor, much to Aubrey's delight, and beyond the neighboring building, I could see blue sky. Still, I wasn't impressed. "We're barely into spring. This is a fluke. It'll probably be cold tomorrow. "
Peter shook his head. "You sure are grumpy when you wake up. " They both seemed so absurdly pleased with themselves, and I couldn't figure out why.
"Maybe you should get outside," said Cody, exchanging smirks with Peter. "We were going to go for a walk after this. It might cheer you up. "
"Yup. Nothing like a bright, sunny afternoon to perk up the old spirits. " Peter's grin grew even bigger.
I leaned my head back against the loveseat. "Okay, okay. What's the joke I'm missing here?"
"No joke," said Peter. "We just think it's a great day. "
"A beautiful, sunny day," Cody concurred.
"Will you two stop already? I get it. It's a nice day. The sun is out the, the birds are singing-"
I stopped. I felt my eyes go wide.
I looked at the smirking vampires, then looked at the sun-filled world outside, and then looked back at them. I swallowed.
"How," I asked quietly, "are you guys out in the middle of the day?"
Their pent-up mirth exploded, and they both dissolved into laughter.
I felt wide awake now. "I'm serious! What's going on? You can't be out in daylight, and how-wait. I didn't sense you guys at the door. I still can't sense you. "
"I know," said Cody. "Isn't it crazy?"
"No! Well, I mean, yes. But it's not. . . it's not supposed to happen," I argued. I didn't understand how they could find this so entertaining. Something was wrong. Very wrong. All the drama with the Army was gone from my mind. That niggling worry that I'd woken up with turned into a hard knot of fear. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I'd gone cold all over. "How is this possible? The sun should fry you. "
"Hell if we know," said Peter. "We were in our coffins and then just suddenly. . . woke up. We got out, and there we were. Out and about in the middle of the day. You know what else? I don't want blood. No desire whatsoever. Not even a drop. "
"And so what, you guys just decide to go stroll around and enjoy the day? You didn't contact Jerome? You didn't question the fact that something has seriously altered your immortal existence?"
A mischievous look crossed Peter's face. "Not just us, Georgina. "
They both watched me expectantly.
"Don't look at me like that," I told them. "I've always been able to go out in the sun. "
"You don't have a signature either. We can't sense you," said Cody.
I stared at them for several heavy seconds, trying to parse the meaning here. An uneasy feeling began building in my stomach as I recognized their implication-except what they were implying was impossible. Unthinkable.
"You're wrong," I said.
Slowly, carefully, I touched my face. It was exactly the same as it had been this morning. My build was the same. My height was the same. I was still me.
I exhaled with relief. "I'm the same. "
Peter's eyes danced. "Fix your hair. It's a mess. "
Shape-shifting is an instinct for a succubus or incubus, practically subconscious. It's like tightening a muscle or taking a deep breath. You barely think about it, send the message from your brain, and it happens. So, I thought about my hair, willing it to smooth out and tidy itself i
nto a ponytail. There was usually a slight tingle when that happened, resulting from the burn of using up a piece of my stored energy. And of course, there was always the tangible evidence-the actual change of my appearance.
This time, there was nothing. No tingle. No hair movement.
Peter leaned forward. "Ooh, it did happen to you! You're the same. None of us are working. "
"No," I said frantically. "That's not possible. "
I tried again, willing my hair to change-to turn a different color, grow short, restyle itself. . . but there was nothing. I tried to shift my clothes, urging my jeans and Henley to become a slip dress. Or maybe a track suit. I even attempted to make my clothes disappear altogether.
Nothing happened.
Nothing .
In pure desperation, I did the unthinkable: I tried to give up the unconscious hold I always maintained in order to keep a form that wasn't my natural one. I let go of all control, allowing my body to shift back to the one I was born with, the one my essence always wanted to return to-the one I fought very, very hard to hide from the world.
Nothing happened. I stayed the same.
I couldn't shape-shift.
It was like having my arm cut off. Until that moment, I didn't realize how much of my self was tied into shape-shifting. As a mortal, the power had been unimaginable. After having it for a millennium and a half, it had become part of me, and its absence was now unbearable. I didn't have to see my face to know I wore pure panic. Peter and Cody were still laughing.
I shot up, incredulous. "This isn't funny," I cried. "We have to talk to Jerome. Now. There's something seriously wrong with us!"
"Or right," suggested Cody.
"Why do you think this is a joke?"
"We don't," said Peter calmly. Underneath his mirth, I saw the tiniest bit of concern in his eyes, concern he was clearly trying to ignore for now. "We just think it's cool. You don't think Jerome already knows about this? Whatever it is, they'll fix it soon enough. Nothing we can change. "
The tirade I was about to unleash on them was interrupted by more knocking. Just like with the vampires, I sensed no immortal signature. Anyone could have been at my door. Yet, peering out the peephole, I saw Hugh. I let him in, feeling relieved. Hugh would sort this out. He always knew what was going on since he and Jerome maintained such constant communication. Hugh's confidence and typical know-it-all air would fix everything.
Instead, he looked miserable. Dejected. He trudged in and dropped onto where I'd just been sitting. He put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin in his hands.
"Hey, Hugh," said Cody. "Isn't it a great day?"
I knelt down on the floor in front of Hugh, so I could look straight into his eyes.
"Hugh, what's going on?"
He simply stared at me, dark eyes mournful and bleak. I'd seen Hugh angry, elated, and exasperated over the years, but I'd never seen him depressed. It would have bothered me, if not for the fact we had a few other things to worry about than his hurt feelings just now.
"Hugh! We've all lost our. . . " I frowned, not sure what to call it. Powers? That sounded too Justice League. ". . . abilities. "
"I know," he said at last. "So have I. "
"What powers did you even have?" asked Cody, apparently not minding the superhero comparison.
"Multitasking?" teased Peter. "The ability to balance books and collate?"
I shot him a quick glare over my shoulder and then glanced at Cody to explain. "Imps see souls-everyone's life energy. They can tell whose soul is good and whose is bad. "
"I know that," said Cody. "I just thought there was. . . more. "
Hugh sighed. "You can't imagine it, Georgina. Not having that ability now. It's like losing one of my senses. Or going colorblind. "
"I know exactly what you mean," I told him.
"Not likely. When you can't see energy and souls around living beings, the world is so. . . empty. It's dull. "
"Why did it happen?" I asked gently, trying my best to squelch my own escalating fear. Internally, I was still reeling. My shape-shifting was gone. My immortal signature was gone. The marks that defined me as Georgina Kincaid, succubus, were gone. "What's going on?"
Hugh's eyes were still sad and unfocused, but finally, he looked at me and studied my face, like he'd just noticed me in front of him. "We get our various gifts and immortality for selling our souls," he began slowly. "Those unique abilities-and their side effects-come from our contract with Hell and are filtered through our archdemons. It's what lets them keep track of us. We're. . . connected. . . " He frowned, grasping at how to best explain the system through which Hell managed its employees.
"I know what you're talking about," I said. Cedric would know if I crossed into his territory simply because he could sense me when I was close enough. Jerome, so long as he was my supervisor, knew where I was at all times and if I was hurt. He was always aware of me, always tied to me. "Our. . . powers. . . are transmitted from Hell, through Jerome, to us. "
"Right," Hugh said. I waited for more, but that seemed to be all he had to say.
"Right what? Why are our abilities gone?"
A bit of the normal Hugh exasperation glinted in his eyes. "Because Jerome is gone. "
"Jerome's gone all the time," Peter said. "We can never get a hold of him. We can't get a hold of him now. "
Hugh shook his head. "You aren't getting it. When I say gone, I don't mean hiding from us at a bar. I mean gone . Vanished. Disappeared. Might as well not exist for all intents and purposes. No one knows where he is. Not our side, not the other side. He. Is. Gone. "
Dead silence hung around us for what felt like an eternity. And that was saying something.
Peter's voice was hard to hear when he finally spoke. "And as long as he's gone. . . "
". . . then so are our abilities," I finished.