Succubus Blues (Georgina Kincaid #1)(4)

As Duane had noted, I usually fed off losers, guys I didn't have to feel guilty about hurting or rendering unconscious for a few days. Those kind did not send flowers and usually avoided most romantic gestures altogether. As for the guys who did send flowers, well, I avoided them. For their own good. That was out of character for a succubus, but I was too jaded to care about propriety anymore.

Feeling sad and lonely, I picked up a bouquet of red carnations for myself and paid for it and the ice cream.

When I arrived home, my phone was ringing. Setting down my goods, I glanced at the Caller-ID. Caller unknown.

"My lord and master," I answered. "What a perfect ending to a perfect night."

"Save your quips, Georgie. Why were you fucking with Duane?"

"Jerome, I-what?"

"He just called. Said you were unduly hassling him."

"Hassling? Him?" Outrage surged inside me. "He started it! He came up to me and-"

"Did you hit him?"

"I..."

"Did you?"

I sighed. Jerome was the archdemon of the greater Seattle hierarchy of evil, as well as my supervisor. It was his job to manage all of us, make sure we did our duties, and keep us in line. Like any lazy demon, however, he preferred we create as little work for him as possible. His annoyance was almost palpable through the phone line. 

"I did sort of hit him. Actually, it was more of a swipe."

"I see. A swipe. And did you threaten him too?"

"Well, yes, I guess, if you want to argue semantics, but Jerome, come on! He's a vampire. I can't touch him. You know that."

The archdemon hesitated, apparently considering the outcome of me going head-to-head with Duane. I must have lost in the hypothetical battle because I heard Jerome exhale a moment later.

"Yes. I suppose. But don't provoke him anymore. I've got enough to work on right now without you children having catfights."

"Since when do you work?" Children indeed.

"Good night, Georgie. Don't tangle with Duane again."

The phone disconnected. Demons weren't big on small talk.

I hung up, feeling highly offended. I couldn't believe Duane had tattled on me and then made me out to be the bad guy. Worse, Jerome seemed to have believed it. At least at first. That probably hurt me most of all because, my slacker-succubus habits aside, I'd always enjoyed a kind of indulgent, teacher's pet role with the archdemon.

Seeking consolation, I carried the ice cream off to my bedroom, shedding my clothes for a loose nightshirt. Aubrey, my cat, stood up from where she'd been sleeping at the foot of my bed and stretched. Solid white save for some black smudges on her forehead, she squinted green eyes at me in greeting.

"I can't go to bed," I told her, stifling a yawn. "I have to read first."

I curled up with the pint and my book, recalling again how I'd finally be meeting my favorite author at the signing tomorrow. Seth Mortensen's writing always spoke to me, awakening something inside I hadn't even known was asleep. His current book, The Glasgow Pact, couldn't ease the guilt I felt over what had happened with Martin, but it filled an aching emptiness in me nonetheless. I marveled that mortals, living so short a time, could create such wonderful things.

"I never created anything when I was a mortal," I told Aubrey when I'd finished five pages.

She rubbed against me, purring sympathetically, and I had just enough presence of mind to put the ice cream away before collapsing back into bed and falling asleep.





CHAPTER 2




The phone jolted me to consciousness the next morning. Dim, murky light filtered in through my sheer curtains, signifying some freakishly early hour. Around here, however, that amount of light could have indicated anything from sunrise to high noon. After four rings, I finally deigned to answer, accidentally knocking Aubrey out of the bed. She landed with an indignant mhew and stalked off to clean herself.

"Hello?"

" Yo, Kincaid?"

"No." My response came swift and certain. "I'm not coming in."

"You don't even know I'm going to ask that."

"Of course I know. There's no other reason you'd be calling me this early, and I'm not going to do it. It's my day off, Doug."

Doug, the other assistant manager at my day job, was a pretty nice guy, but he couldn't keep a poker face-or voice- to save his life. His cool demeanor immediately gave way to desperation. "Everyone called in sick today, and now we're strapped. You have to do it."

"Well, I'm sick too. Believe me, you don't want me there."

Okay, I wasn't exactly sick, but I was still sporting a residual afterglow from being with Martin. Mortals would not "see" it as Duane had per se, but they would sense it and be drawn to it-men and women alike-without even knowing why. My confinement today would prevent any foolish, lovesick behavior. It was very kind of me, really.