Succubus in the City (36 page)

Ono was a welcome addition to what had become one of the most eclectic and exciting array of restaurants of any place and time where I had lived.

I was there early and Sybil arrived in a fluster of taxi and flowers. I was already seated when she collapsed at the table, laid a bouquet of pink tulips and roses on the extra chair, and burst into tears.

“What’s wrong, Syb?” I inquired gently, and pushed my drink over to her. It tasted something like a creamsicle and packed a lot more alcoholic punch than I had expected. She gulped it down as if it were water and I was certain it was the sweet she wanted and that she had no idea of just how much booze was in there. But the way she was crying she needed the alcohol. In fact, I thought we should order two more of these.

“Vincent,” she sobbed, and drained the rest of the drink. “He found out about the guys in Aruba and he’s angry at me and I don’t know if he wants to break up and I knew I shouldn’t have done that but I didn’t know how Vincent felt and…I think I might have broken up with him.”

“You think you broke up with him?” I was completely confused. “You aren’t sure?”

She shook her head. “He accused me and I got angry that he would do that because why should he get all huffy at me and act like he owned me and believing anything he heard—”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted her. “First of all, how did he find out? Who told him? Did you?”

She shook her head and looked at me in wide-eyed disbelief. “Lily, there are some things you never ever tell a man. Honesty is one thing, but there are things you just shouldn’t ever really tell. I know that. I didn’t tell him. I don’t know who did.” Then she sniffled heavily and looked at me. “At first I thought it was you, because you live there and you have the opportunity and you don’t know how delicate these things can be.”

“Wasn’t me,” I said, aghast. “I may sometimes be the elephant in the china shop, but I’ve got more sense than that. Besides which, I’ve hardly been home and all I’ve seen of Vincent is that he opened a cab door for me. I was so late that he didn’t even come up for the ashes and clothes from my delivery.”

“Oh,” she sniffled. “He came up to your apartment and took care of that when you were at work.”

“Oh.” I’d never had a demon doorman with that much initiative. He really was going to move up the ranks and out of his doorman position really soon if he kept this up, and that made me sad. The next one would have to be trained and wouldn’t do all the little services that Vincent performed.

“So tell me, you had a date on Wednesday night, right?”

She nodded.

“What happened?”

“Well, you were out most of the evening, I think. Or something. Anyway, we met early, before his shift. We went out for dinner and he said that he thought that I’d been running around in Aruba and had dates there.”

“What did you tell him?” I prompted her.

“What could I say? Of course I told him it wasn’t true. I told him that I didn’t date people who don’t believe me and trust me. And then I reminded him that we hadn’t ever discussed exclusivity and he was new to being a demon and how did I know that he felt that way about me anyway.”

At that moment our fresh drinks arrived, topped with a froth of sabayon sauce. How did anyone think of putting that on top of a drink? But it was wonderful, rich and comforting and sweet and very potent. I almost giggled when I thought of that word and thought of the night before, but Sybil was in too much distress for my levity.

“I’m not real experienced at the whole dating thing, we know that,” I began carefully. “But I think you did the right thing. I don’t think you actually broke up with him, but you’re right. Why should he get some crazy jealous idea in his head? Even if it is true. And that doesn’t even begin to mention the fact that you and Vincent did not have any agreement and had never talked about having an exclusive relationship or anything like that. So I think you’re completely in the right.”

“But I was so angry with him and then I walked out,” Sybil protested.

I nodded, backed up with the authority of too much alcohol. “And you did the right thing. If he wants you, he’ll come back and he’ll apologize and treat you better in the future. And if he wanted an exclusive relationship he should have talked about it. Would you have blown up at him if he’d gone to Aruba for a weekend?”

“Yes,” Sybil wailed. Then she thought for a moment. “No. I may have been sad at his going off without me, but I wouldn’t have accused him without any evidence.”

“So he’s being a jealous idiot when he has no reason at all to think anything of the kind, except in his fantasies,” I insisted.

“But he’s right,” Sybil said, and sniffled.

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter, and it’s none of his business. You don’t need some hair-trigger jealous maniac watching your every move. And you’re going to wait and do nothing until he comes crawling and grovels appropriately because that’s the least you deserve.” I sounded so much like Eros I shocked myself. Had I really learned the lessons, or was I only good for telling someone else to do things I couldn’t do myself?

“And,” I added for further measure, “you’re going to have to be sure something like this never happens again. That he knows he has to trust you and treat you with respect and let you spend time with your girlfriends. In Aruba, if that’s what we’re doing. He isn’t allowed to interfere.”

“Do you really mean that?” she asked, dazed.

“I have an idea,” I said slowly, thinking as I went along. “Why don’t we have brunch on Saturday this week instead of Sunday? Then we can all talk about things, because you need to hear everyone’s point of view. Which will agree with mine, but I think it will help if you hear from all of us. And I could use all your input, too, before I see him again.”

Sybil blinked. “Nathan, you mean. You have a date on Saturday night?”

I nodded. “And I need advice, really I do. I got caught reading his diary.”

Sybil looked startled. “Guys don’t keep diaries,” she protested. “What did it say? What did he say?”

“He said it was language practice, and he keeps the diary in Akkadian. And he doesn’t know that I can read it, so he said I could look at it all I wanted. And I felt so caught, Syb, because when he found me reading it I was sure he knew that I knew everything. And he didn’t. He doesn’t have any clue that I can read it. Which makes sense, since there really are only a few dozen scholars who can make any sense of cuneiform these days. And to tell the truth, his grammar is a little shaky in some places and he could probably use my help. His accent is horrible.”

“Lily, promise me that you won’t tell him. I can’t begin to tell you all the reasons not to. You’ll have to explain everything about being a succubus and being Babylonian and it’s too much this early in the relationship. And that says nothing to his feeling like he can’t impress you anymore when your Akkadian is better than his.”

“But it’s my first language,” I protested. Sometimes the fragility of the male ego is incomprehensible.

“Yes, but even still he’s going to feel like he hasn’t got anything to offer you. They’re like that, Lily, you know it. And I know it. Do not tell him anything. And read it. Not just for yourself, but to make sure he isn’t one of
them.
”

“What?” I was horrified. “There is no way Nathan is one of them.”

Sybil’s eyes grew wide and she sipped on her third drink. Or was it her fourth? “But he could be. Anyone could be. Look at Desi. That was horrible for her. No, I’m just saying we all should be sure. And you told him where we were going in Aruba.”

“And what about you and Vincent?” I asked, more to change the subject. “He knew where we were, too.”

Sybil shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t think either of our guys are leaking information. And I won’t send Vincent an e-mail tonight. But maybe I’ll come back with you and run into him in your lobby. I think he’s working tonight.” And then our seared ahi came and we drowned our sorrows in delicious food and topped it all with seconds of dessert. Because we needed it. Because life sometimes is just like that and the only thing that makes it survivable is brioche bread pudding and cheesecake and molten chocolate cake on top of that.

But I still felt guilty. I wanted to tell Nathan everything. I wanted him to know about me and still love me. I wanted his support and his commitment even though I knew I was asking too much.

Or was I? I could help him so much with his understanding of the ancient world that clearly was his passion. I could help him with his pronunciation and grammar in Akkadian, I could give him some of the more subtle nuances of court etiquette, I could teach him so much about the practice of religion. He would have scholarly publications for years.

Or was Sybil right and he would hate me for it?

Or was I too drunk to be thinking well? That was for sure.

Sybil decided not to come in. She was too drunk to confront Vincent, so I got out of the taxi alone.

And there, across the street from my building, I saw Craig Branford staring at my front door. He was standing on the curb and just—staring. I’d looked at his picture long enough that I was certain it was him. Yep, same stringy blond hair, same watery eyes, same sullen expression.

If I hadn’t been drunk I probably would have just ducked inside and tried to hide. Maybe I would have called Nathan and whispered. Maybe that’s what I should have done, used the cell phone and let him know that Branford was not only back in New York, but standing outside my building.

But I was drunk, outrageously drunk, so I ran between the parked cars and confronted him dead-on. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” I demanded. “Standing here in front of my building. Are you stalking me? What was that whole deal in Aruba? I saw you and my date told me about what you’d said to him so I know you’re up to something. And if you don’t disappear, just leave us alone, I’m going to call the police and get a restraining order and maybe press charges.”

“Are you a succubus?” he asked, point-blank.

That startled me into a moment of silence. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually come out and asked me. “Oh, so the fact that I was dating someone in Aruba didn’t convince you?” I attacked. Maybe it was a good thing that I was drunk. “Why are you following me anyway?”

He shook his head. “I had very good information. I thought I had excellent information, at least until Aruba. You—surprised me. And you have made my life very difficult.”

I had made his life difficult? “And why do I care?” I asked loudly enough that a couple of people on the street turned in our direction. “You have no business here. You have no business anywhere and I suggest that you get lost. Permanently.”

He shook his head slowly. “We have some questions about you and your friends,” he said slowly. “Even if you are not the enemy you are in league with forces of sin. But I think something is wrong. Some of my brothers are convinced that you are innocent, true women, but I know that Satan is the master of lies. And I intend to discover what is wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong except you,” I almost shouted in his face. “I’m going to call the police if you don’t get out of here right now, and if you ever come back you’re going to get into more trouble than you can handle.”

“Please understand, Lily, your ruses do not work on me and you do not frighten me at all. Take this as a friendly warning. We will find out what you are and we will destroy you, and your Master as well.” Then he turned and walked toward the avenue, where he turned the corner. I wanted to run after him, but my motor control had gone somewhere around my fourth drink and my four-inch Christian Louboutins looked fantastic but weren’t made for running, even cold sober.

Stupid, righteous, self-proclaimed savior of humanity, I thought, fuming. If I hadn’t been drunk I might have taken in what precisely he had threatened me with, but as it was he had just made me more furious.

Vincent was on duty when I staggered back across the street. He opened the door when I arrived and I told him to come upstairs with me. Which was fortunate, because he caught me around the waist and held me on the elevator. He also inserted the key into the lock when I couldn’t make it after the third attempt. He dropped me on my sofa and took a seat across the coffee table, perhaps so that there would be no mistaking our propriety.

“Was there a problem with that guy across the street?” he asked gently. “I’ve seen him before, just staring at the building. I thought he was a real estate agent. Or maybe someone who wanted to move in.”

“That was the Burning Man who was in Aruba,” I hissed at him. “Are you the one who told them we were there? Is that how you got your jealous nutcase ideas about Sybil, because those liars will say anything about us and you believed them? Have you been passing information when that man, whose name is Branford, by the way, came by so you could tell him what you know about us?”

Vincent sat in startled silence. He opened his mouth and shut it again. “He was in Aruba?”

“Yes,” I said. “He knew. He was there and they were tracking us. He set someone on me even, and I wouldn’t be surprised if any of the people paying attention to any of the four of us were their agents. But how did he know? Who would have told him? You?”

“Me?” His shock and injured innocence were textbook, so good that it looked more like he was lying than responding honestly.

“Well, it has to be someone in the Hierarchy,” I said reasonably. “Because there weren’t any mortals who knew we were going. And there weren’t that many demons, either. And you’re ambitious. Maybe you set us up just so that you could save us later and win our gratitude and even Satan’s approbation.”

The blaze of anger in his look was impressive indeed. “You know, that’s so low and devious that only Hellspawn would have thought of it. So now you’re accusing me out of the blue and I don’t deserve it and I won’t forget this either.” The flash of anger flared down, but his eyes still smoldered.

“I’m accusing you out of the blue the way you accused Sybil. You go and apologize to her,” I told him. “For being an asshole. If you really care for her, if you want to see her again, you apologize. I hope you’re not such a big jerk that you actually told anyone anything. Or are you just jealous of any life she has that isn’t all about you? I don’t care. My friend is crying and it’s all your fault whether you said anything, or you believed bullshit, or what—”