Succubus in the City (31 page)

“Lily,” he murmured quietly. “Lily, Lily, Lily. You are the most amazing woman.” He practically crooned to me, and gathered me against his chest and oh, it felt good to be in his arms.

And it felt terrible, too, because I wanted to tell him and I knew I couldn’t. And I felt entirely dishonest, with him and myself.

I had a chance here, a chance with Nathan.

I knew what my friends would say.
Shut up, Lily. Don’t tell him. He probably doesn’t believe in demons anyway. He doesn’t need to know.

Prudence won, but I wanted to indulge in the revelation as well. I wanted Nathan to know what I was and I wanted him to love and accept me all the same.

“Then why do you care so much about finding this guy?” I asked, honestly a little confused. I understood wanting to do well, but I thought that he was staking just a little too much on this one thing. “You just told your boss where he was less than twenty-four hours ago, and they should be thrilled with you. You’ve done more than your job, so why are you acting as if you have to go down there yourself and bring him back in irons? Isn’t that a little old-fashioned? Why does anyone want him anyway, and what are they paying?”

He looked at me for a long moment. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” he asked and studied my face. “I don’t really know. My boss seems stuck on it so I could only figure that the wife was paying. Most of the work is tracking down missing spouses for child support or to file divorce papers or something. The more exciting jobs, it looks like, are finding grounds for adultery. But this, somehow it just feels different. It shouldn’t have been any big deal. I should have found him sooner. He shouldn’t have jumped off the cruise ship in Mexico and he shouldn’t have shown up in Aruba.”

I laughed. “You should go back to grad school. You’re wasted on this stupid job.”

And he laughed and I laughed and the moment of vulnerability and revelations was gone.

And it was good and comfortable and safe between us, at least so long as I kept my big mouth shut.

chapter
TWENTY-FOUR

Desi met me in the bar at Public on very short notice. I called her when I got in to work on Tuesday and then I remembered I had a date with Nathan on Wednesday and I almost started to gibber senselessly on the phone.

We sat at one of the tables under the glass oil lamps that lined the wall. I sipped my drink, nothing frilly and no paper umbrellas here, but a good respectable glass of port.

“It’s all a mess,” I muttered as Desi tasted her Chardonnay. “There’s Nathan and what do I tell him and why is he even bothering, and then there’s the thing with Marten and I don’t know if Azoked is just doing her job or using her job as a smokescreen for being a bitch.”

“One at a time,” she said. “First, we all know that Azoked is a bitch. She might be doing her job, but she enjoys making us miserable and we know that. The trick is going to be to use her information and not let her sadism affect us. And that’s particularly hard because she’s good at it, and for you because you’re the one who has to deal with her. And she has it in for you because she doesn’t want this job.”

“It got her a weekend at the Royal Sonesta in Oranjestad,” I groused. “She should at least be grateful for that.”

“Yes, she should,” Desi agreed. “But she’s a bitch, and you heard her make it sound as if she were doing us a favor by showing up. Anyway, we don’t have to think about Azoked. She’s useful. Not that we couldn’t find the information ourselves, but it’s easier for us to have her do the legwork. Besides which, a librarian in the Akashic can do a lot more a lot faster than we can, and it’s her job. You don’t have time, you’ve got a magazine to put together. So let’s not think about her because we all know she’s a raging bitch. Case closed. So what’s this about Marten and Nathan?” She leaned forward, perfectly lacquered lips pursed, ready to listen.

I finished my second port and she signaled the barman for my third. At this rate of consumption, since I had been planning to drown my sorrows buying shoes at Hollywould after I finished all my alcohol, Holly would be very happy indeed.

“Nathan called as soon as I got in last night. He came over with a pizza. We talked, that’s all. We have a date tomorrow night.” I thought it best to get all the facts in order before starting the speculation. “He was very sweet. He told me a little about himself, you know, the getting-to-know-you kind of stuff. And then I had to tell him about seeing Branford, that pharmacist he’s been looking for in Aruba and he was all stressed out but also excited. And he was unhappy with me because I didn’t call him immediately when I spotted the guy. But I was with Marten at the time and I wasn’t going to tell Nathan that, and I didn’t think that he was really on the case anymore. I mean, he had tracked the guy out of the country and last I heard that was good enough. He didn’t even know if he’d get paid to look anymore, so I didn’t have any idea it was urgent or anything.”

“Did you tell him that?” Desi asked.

Desi is so sensible sometimes. I didn’t know if I’d told Nathan, but I’d thought it was obvious. “I don’t remember. I know I asked why it mattered so much. And then he went into the bathroom to call his boss. But then we talked about it and he wasn’t so upset anymore so I guess it was okay. It just seemed too weird to me and Eros would have told me not to call him from Aruba and I don’t really know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?” Desi asked.

I blinked. Want? What did my wanting have to do with anything? What did he want? What was going to happen? Would he satisfy me well enough that I would be allowed to let him live? And did I want to find out?

“I’m scared,” I told her. “If he doesn’t satisfy me first when we finally do get to bed, then he’s toast. There’s nothing I can do about it. And I don’t want to kill him. Even if he’s not a great lover I want him alive,” I admitted.

“That’s a problem,” Desi agreed. “At some point, you either have to find out or leave. Those are your options. You can’t tell him?”

I shook my head. The barman arrived with my third glass of port and as I sipped it I started to relax, just a little.

“So that’s one problem with Nathan. Are there any others?”

I thought for a few minutes. “I don’t know about relationships. And I feel like I’m lying to him all the time. I mean, I can’t very well tell him I’m a succubus, can I? He won’t believe it. But if we actually end up dating at some point he’ll have to know. It’s part of my contract with Satan, that if someone falls in love with me, he’s got to love me knowing that I’m a succubus. Which was bad enough in the bad old days, but now just convincing him that I’m not completely crazy would be almost impossible. And he has no idea that I’m Babylonian and he has a really weird accent in Akkadian, you know, and I can’t tell him anything about how things were really pronounced. And he doesn’t know what he wants to do and…I think I’m drunk. I think that I’m afraid that I’ll tell him I’m a Babylonian succubus and he’ll think I belong in a mental hospital.”

“Wait a minute,” Desi cut me off mid-meander. “So there are different problems here. The first one is whether he’s a good enough lover that you have the option of keeping him alive. That, so far as I can figure, is the most important point. If he’s not, or if you’re not willing to find out, then you’re off the hook about all the other stuff. Because you won’t be dating him if you can’t have sex with him. Is there anything you can do to tip the scales a bit? You know, some foreplay or something to get you more aroused? Tomorrow night’s your third date? Because no one expects sex before the third date, but not much after it. Maybe you go as high as five dates, but that would be pushing it.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know that because usually I only had the one. “So how do I count? Did the impromptu evenings when he arrived with take-out or pizza count as dates? Or did only arranged-in-advance events with stated forms of entertainment count?”

“His coming over with food counts,” she said firmly. “You could have said no either or both times. You could have said that you were too tired or had an early flight the first time, which was true, or that you were just too zonked last night, which would also have been true. So yes, they count, which makes tomorrow date number four.”

“That’s worse,” I said, and downed the rest of my drink far too quickly. Port should be sipped, not gulped, and I was already feeling the effects. Just not quite enough.

“Well,” Desi said slowly in her considering voice, “desire has a lot to do with sexual satisfaction. That is something I know about. Mostly you pick up prey you don’t want at all, so they haven’t got a chance of pleasing you. Nathan, though, you like him. You’re hot for him, you desire him, right?”

I nodded and blushed. When I thought about it, I did desire him. I got a kind of warm fuzzy sexy feeling just thinking about him touching me, holding me, kissing me…. I saw what Desi meant.

“Reading your current state, I think you don’t have to worry about having to deliver him,” she said matter-of-factly. “I know about desire, and if you have half as much as I’m reading off you right now, you’re going to come way before you have anything to worry about.”

“I’d be really happy not to worry about it,” I said in a small voice.

“I think you’ll be okay with Nathan,” she reiterated. “You might want a drink or two first, just to lower your inhibitions. You’re not used to having sex with men you actually want. So what does Marten have to do with anything? Wasn’t he just a fling in Aruba?”

“That’s what I thought,” I told her. “But then I got this e-mail from Azoked, like I said. And in it she said that Marten is a ceremonial magician and he knew what I was and targeted me. In fact, she said that Branford in Aruba had been after all of us. But then he had found me, and Marten said that we’d had sex and he was still alive. Which is true. You know that. Anyway, Marten even told me, but he sounded as if he thought that was all superstition and he didn’t believe any of it. And then Azoked said that he thinks he saved me from Craig Branford by telling him that he’d had sex with me and lived, and he might try to cash it in for a favor. And I
still
have the Nathan problem. What do I do if he isn’t getting me off?” I asked as the barman brought Desi another glass of wine. “I don’t want to have to deliver him.”

Desi looked at me and rolled her eyes. “Kick him or something. Once you’re all naked, if you’re not having fun there isn’t any reason he should be having fun. Squeeze his balls. Kick him out of bed. Come on, you’re smart and creative, I’ll bet there are fifty ways to get rid of a man before he comes that you could think of. You just have to try.”

I was utterly and completely shocked. She was right. That would work. Only after three thousand years as a succubus, I couldn’t imagine turning around and deliberately making sex no fun, and preventing myself from making a delivery at the same time.

“Anyway, really, why should any man get off if you’re not, you know?” she went on, and I realized that she’d had enough to drink. “And if he’s no good and you kick him out, you’ve still saved his life and you don’t have to worry about telling him about your past, or what you do outside your job or anything.”

“And what if I have a great time?” I asked, the three glasses of port taking effect and making me bolder, or more hopeful, than I had been.

Desi shook her head. “Then you have a great time. And you date him. And you be the person your ID says and you don’t tell him anything. I’d never tell anyone I was dating that I’m a demon. The chances are very high he wouldn’t believe it, and if he did it would only hurt the relationship. You don’t have to tell all when you’re involved with someone. Especially not early on. And for us, never.”

What a mess.

chapter
TWENTY-FIVE

At this point I should know better. Somehow my e-mail always brings me bad news. My life would be much smoother if the Internet had never been invented. We always had much more time before Treos and cell phones and Bluetooth.

Getting a personal e-mail from Satan Herself is almost always bad, and this was just as bad as I had feared.

Dearest Lily,

I have been quite lenient and understanding that you have not been in the correct astrological conjunctions to compel a delivery, and you have also been on vacation. I myself made a space for your holiday in Aruba so that you would have options. I hope you found him delightful—I do have my eye on that one.

In any event, I would appreciate a delivery in the near future. I don’t want to pressure you, my dear. This is not a command, it is merely an observation, but it has been a little while since you have sent a soul this way.

I am looking forward to your next contribution to our population, and wish you the best with your beau.

Satan

Satan can be terrible. She can be a harsh taskmaster, she can be demanding. But she is also Martha, my mentor and friend and adviser, and to think I had disappointed her was far worse than any threat she could make.

She knows that, too. She is the Prince of Darkness, after all.

I was tired, but the port I’d drunk with Desi was wearing off. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to hunt, and tonight. Nathan had taken my mind off my job, and off my delivery schedule. When the mojo is on, I have no choice. But Satan was accustomed to me sending Her little gifts from time to time when the astrological interval was particularly long.

So, a hunt. On a Tuesday.

I was tired and starting to get hungover. I wanted to deliver for Satan but I really didn’t want to go all the way downtown and I especially wasn’t in the mood for a bar. I took a quick look on Citysearch. And there it was, a Werner Herzog film and lecture at the Met that should be letting out just around the time I could get there, provided that I ran down right away. I hadn’t delivered a pretentious intellectual in a while and they are just as annoying in their way as frat boys.

I was already dressed in black from work and had my subdued (intellectual) wool coat, so I ran out after only the most cursory check on my lipstick.