Succubus in the City (17 page)

I don’t have a lot to do with the On High, but I do know the Angelic Orders find the dismal righteous bigots rather a trial. All that lovely Creation, all those good things of the world, that these self-righteous little men reject and call sin, all gone to waste. Cannoli are meant to be enjoyed. Great food and wine and perfect weather and love and free time and fun are all gifts from the On High—gifts that the kind of people who spend their time hunting us reject. From a few things I’ve overheard (standing in line waiting for some paperwork at Admin) those On High find it even more frustrating than we demons do. After all, the people who adore us at least know how to enjoy themselves. Well, most of the time.

Anyway, the important fact was that Nathan’s pleasure in his food, in the museum, and in being with me proved he was not one of the attackers. I could trust him.

Maybe.

I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that I’m a succubus, though.

“So I really don’t know what to do, Lily,” he was saying. “I’m technically still able to finish my dissertation and get the degree, and I’ve got this detective gig. Which was not supposed to mean running around all over the city. I was hired mostly to do computer searches and look up histories and things like that. And mostly I just think of it as something to do while I figure things out, but for some reason this case bothers me. Chris, my boss, thinks that my missing guy, Craig Branford, was probably selling prescription drugs on the side. Oxy has amazing street value these days, and if he was compounding, well—anyway, all the facts would fit that theory. But he’s disappeared entirely and why would he do that if he had a nice little drug operation going? Why jeopardize it?”

I shrugged. “He thought he was going to get caught?”

Nathan shook his head and the lights reflected brilliantly off his too-black hair. “I don’t think the police were on to him at all, even if he was dealing. So why would he think he was going to get caught?”

“Paranoid?” I offered. “If you’re doing something wrong, you might be afraid of getting caught even if there’s no actual reason to think that. The guilt just builds and gets overwhelming. Or,” and here I paused, partly to think it out and partly for effect, “it wasn’t the police he was afraid of. Maybe some Colombian drug lord killed him and dumped him in the river and that’s why he’s disappeared.” Hey, no one had told me that
Miami Vice
was going to rate as educational one day. I just thought Don Johnson was entirely too cute and wore Armani besides, and how many cops had spiffy power boats and really knew how to dress?

That show educated a whole generation, come to think of it. One TV show was the turning point for American men understanding that dressing well was masculine. That changed the entire culture. Which sounded like a feature article for the magazine, which would fit in perfectly in our menswear issue. I pulled out my Treo and made a note to mention it at our next editorial meeting.

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I just got an idea for a magazine article,” I said.

“It’s Saturday. You’re not supposed to be working.”

I laughed. “And we’re talking about your case, so you’re working. And I suggested that he was hit by the Colombian drug lords and is dead. Which I think sounds pretty good, honestly. Since you can’t find any trace of him.”

Nathan suddenly looked somber. “I hadn’t thought Colombians, but yes, it did occur to me that if he were dealing drugs he had stepped on the wrong toes. But something about this all just feels so wrong, and there haven’t been any unidentified bodies that fit his description since he disappeared.”

“And it’s Saturday and you’re out with me and you’re not supposed to be working.” I smiled broadly.

He smiled in return, and then turned serious. “But really, Lily, I appreciate your thoughts on the subject. You’re smart and original and I think I’ve been kind of limited with this whole thing. Like I got so caught up with the details that I should be able to put together a picture that makes sense, but I can’t.”

“You need to not think about it so much,” I said quite seriously. “I read an article in the
Times
just a few weeks ago. Researchers in Germany discovered that if there are a lot of factors to consider, the subconscious mind makes better decisions than the conscious mind.”

Which was the perfect way to distract him, and we went off talking about psychology and neurobiology, with a good deal of bashing the outdated and disproved theory that there was a change in the ability to think abstractly in the Golden Age of Pericles, and before that everyone was very literal. Which just makes me furious, and made Nathan as furious as I was, and we experienced a deep and violent agreement before I noticed the time.

“Oh my goodness, Nathan, it’s five thirty and we’re in the Village and I have to meet my friends at six on the East Side and I won’t even have time to change—”

When I had planned the day, going to the Village had not been part of the picture. There was the museum, near to my house and not all that far from where I was meeting the girls. Now I wondered how I was going to change for our charity event after our little ritual at Sybil’s. Being on the other end of the island had not been part of my original calculation.

We ran out of the restaurant and over to Sixth for me to hail a cab. “I’ve had the best time, Lily,” he said, looking deeply into my eyes with his arms wrapped around me as three cabs cruised by. “I want to see you again. Soon.”

“Me too, Nathan,” I said. “I want to see you again really soon…This week? Dinner?”

I could hear Eros now. She would be apoplectic. I knew I shouldn’t, not ever, ask for a date this early. I should have played it a bit cooler and I really should have let him send an e-mail and ask me and deny him a few times before we could settle on a time. I was doing everything wrong. I couldn’t possibly tell my friends but they would know, I knew they would know.

“Monday?” he suggested.

Monday? Yes! No. I was seeing Azoked on Monday. “Can’t do Monday,” I said, feeling some reprieve. Eros couldn’t think I was being too terrible. No, she would and so I couldn’t possibly let her know how badly I’d slipped. “Send me an e-mail and I’ll check my calendar.”

And with that I raised my right arm and a yellow cab cut across three lanes of traffic to pull up in front of me.

I opened the door and then Nathan pulled me in to him in an embrace that smelled of soap and warmth and home. I lingered in his arms for a moment, wondering if he would kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me, and I guessed that would be against Eros’s rules as well.

“Lady, I’m blocking traffic. Get in the cab,” the driver yelled at me through his open window and the moment was obliterated by the blare of at least three horns.

chapter
FIFTEEN

We met at a bar near Sybil’s with a huge selection of umbrella drinks and an even better selection of hard-bodied men in Helmut Lang. The plan was to meet up at the bar, have a little fun, go to Sybil’s and do a protection spell of warding, and then hit a charity event where Desi hoped to drown her sorrows over Steve by meeting some attractive fashionable man who would succumb to her magic.

I looked around the room quickly when I entered to find that Eros had already claimed a table and a chocolate martini. “You saw him,” she said almost accusingly. “Didn’t I tell you that was a bad idea?”

“You told me,” I agreed. “Now I need one of their chocolate raspberry truffle martinis.”

“You might want to order two,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ve heard about Sybil—”

Suddenly I was terrified. “What about Sybil? What’s happened to her? Is she all right?”

Eros laughed. “Oh, the only thing she’s in danger of losing is her heart. And her head. No, I meant what is this thing going on with her and your doorman?”

But before I could answer, Sybil and Desi appeared flanking a very chic Satan. If She weren’t the Prince of Darkness it would be thoroughly disheartening to see all our fashion finery eclipsed by Her utterly stunning Yves Saint Laurent pantsuit. I didn’t think She’d planned to go to the charity event—some fund-raiser for a children’s hospital. They made their way over and, of course, since Satan was now among us, waiters and drinks materialized immediately, large and strong and perfect and made up of lots of things that weren’t on the menu.

“I can’t linger,” Satan said when She sat down. “I just wanted to make sure that you all know that the Enforcers have studied the documents you turned over and this case has their highest priority. Our librarian has been working overtime and will be reporting in soon, and hopefully she will be able to trace through connections to unravel this new infestation. And, the important thing that you all need to know—the Enforcers are going to be keeping an eye on you until this is all resolved. I do not want any of you harmed or in danger again, and some big mean burly demon Enforcers are not going to let anything happen.” She smiled, laid four hundred-dollar bills on the table, and stood up. “Have a lovely evening.” And then, without even touching Her drink, She disappeared. Literally.

“Enforcers?” Desi wailed. “Watching us? That’s the worst, the absolute worst.”

Sybil blinked. “I feel much safer knowing that there are Enforcers watching out for us. I don’t have a heroic demon doorman to come to my rescue if anything should happen.”

Heroic? Vincent was now heroic? For what? Fetching Sybil from a couple of blocks away, or for getting us more ice cream?

Eros rolled her eyes at me, and I winced in sympathetic reply. “I wish it were Security watching out for us,” Eros said. “Beliel knows what he’s doing.”

“Unfortunately,” I added, “Beliel isn’t interested in catching Burning Men. He’s more interested in background checks for the Treasury.” I’d heard plenty on that score from Marduk.

“Which is part of the reason I wanted help to ward my apartment,” Sybil continued. “Oh, you are all just the best best friends!”

“And we’re eating rubber chicken, too,” Eros reminded her. The charity dinner and dance were sponsored by Sybil’s office and she had generously picked up the tickets for all of us.

“Oh, no, it won’t be rubber chicken,” she said, aghast. “Rive Gauche is catering.”

We finished our drinks and then ordered a second round, and by the time we arrived to do the warding ritual we were in, hmmm, shall I say, not precisely a ritual state. Not that two drinks is enough to put any of us off our magic, but even Sybil was giggling and not appearing to be as worried as she had sounded when she made us all promise to show up.

We entered her apartment and I noticed immediately that the new wallpaper really did make a huge difference. The place had been charming before, but the shimmer of the silk organza overlay created a subtle play of light that made all of Sybil’s admittedly overstuffed and vaguely Victorian furniture look sophisticated and even verging on postmodern. I was impressed.

“So let’s start. I’ll need some time to get ready for this party afterward,” Eros announced.

“Oh, but Vincent isn’t here yet,” Sybil protested.

“You asked the doorman?” I was aghast. “He’s barely been a demon for a month and hasn’t even started his first magical tutorial. He’s still on probation.”

“He’s been a demon for four months and has been doubling up on tutorials,” Sybil corrected me. “He’s already through Level Three, Intermediate Locator Spells and is working on Etheric Manipulation, and has already had nibbles from Security and Oversight. Satan’s top lieutenants know he’s talented, smart, and dedicated. He’s going to have a brilliant career in the Hierarchy.”

The great majority of demons don’t have careers. Most have functions, and most of those functions are low-level and boring. Top demons are mostly fallen angels and old gods who Satan has recruited. A few of us impressed Her enough that our original contracts specified high position, wealth, and attention. A handful like Desi worked their way up from the bottom, but that took a superhuman level of ability and commitment. Vincent may be cute and smart, but he’d have to do a whole lot more if he wanted to reach the ranks of a major demon.

Eros gave me a quick raised eyebrow before the intercom buzzed. Sybil let Vincent in and in a few minutes I was impressed to see him standing in the living room wearing couture. I’d never seen him out of uniform before, and the tight cashmere turtleneck showed off a body that had been carefully sculpted in a gym when he had been alive. Though now that he was a demon he got to keep it without the endless hours of crunches and bench presses that had gone into the creation of that perfect physique.

Okay, chalk one up to Sybil. She could spot them. And I’ll lay money that she was the one who took him shopping for the clothes.

He was carrying a familiar garment bag and a bigger train box, which he brought over to me. “Your dress for this evening,” he informed me. “And your makeup. I didn’t know what shoes you wanted, so I brought several pairs. I hope that’s okay, but I thought it would be easier for you than having to return home. Shall I put them in the bedroom for you?”

Oh my. Oh my my my. I have never, ever, in three thousand years, had a doorman bring me my dress without my expressly asking for it. I wondered what dress he had brought, and if I was pleased or annoyed by this development. But, oh, he was being so useful. And it made me feel like a princess again, and a high priestess besides. Being a succubus doesn’t always mean that you actually get service.

“The bedroom would be lovely. And, Vincent, thank you.” I reached up on my tiptoes and gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek.

“You’ve been drinking!” Vincent was clearly offended. “You’re not supposed to do magic when you’ve been drinking. It affects the concentration, and means that either you’re too grounded on the earth plane or that you can’t access Yesod. Or you get confused by the etheric and can’t control it.”

Wow, he’d certainly caught on to the jargon. Give him another couple of months and he and Meph will be geeking together on the Technical Magick topic on MagicMirror. Myself, I stay away from that most of the time. I’ve got my cred in some of the higher levels, but I don’t like to sit around and talk about the details as if I were some overweight guy in a faded Linux tee shirt talking about computer gaming.