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I eventually gave up on trying to figure out the mystery for now, and the vampires soon started replaying every last detail of the previous night's fight-a topic they never seemed to tire of. The stories bored me after a while, and I instead found myself studying little things, like the layout of the apartment, the new appliances, the granite countertops...
"Do you think I should move?" I asked abruptly.
Cody stopped mid-sentence. I think he'd been describing how he'd had Lenny the vampire in a chokehold. "What?" he asked.
"I'm thinking of getting a new place."
"Were you even listening to my story?" asked Cody, looking slightly hurt.
"You've lived over there for years," said Peter. "As long as I've known you."
"I know. Maybe it's time for a change. It's small, and it's old."
"That's because it's a historic building," argued Peter.
"And," added Cody, "it's close to where you work. You'd have to drive in if you moved-unless you're just going up the street or something."
My eyes focused on the far side of the room without really seeing it. I remembered talking to Seth the other night and how it had seemed like I couldn't get far enough away from him. I thought about our fight earlier tonight. "No," I told them quietly. "I'd move somewhere else. Somewhere farther out."
"Ah," said Peter in understanding.
Cody frowned. "I don't get it. Why would you want to move far away from your-ow!" Peter had kneed him. Cody started to demand why, but then he seemed to catch on too. He was naïve about immortal affairs, sometimes, but not human ones. His face turned sympathetic, which I hated. "Maybe change is good."
I didn't know if it was, but I didn't want them to sit and feel sorry for me, so I coaxed more fight stories from them for the next half-hour or so as a way to distract them and make amends for not paying attention earlier.
I left shortly thereafter, wondering about whether it really was time to shake things up a little and move. Seth had already shaken my life up for the worse, and part of me wanted to rid myself of all those memories. Changing everything that I'd had while we'd been together-like my apartment-could be a way to do it. A clean cut. If I was really desperate, I could even consider switching jobs or cities. I didn't know if I was ready to go that far. It all depressed me.
"Hey, succubus. You sure know how to keep a guy waiting."
I'd been walking up to my building without really paying attention, too lost in my own thoughts. Now, in the faint glow of the light above the building's entrance, I saw Dante sitting on the steps. His black hair was brushed away from his face, and he wore a light coat over his usual attire of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He probably had a watch on under there too but almost never wore any other ornamentation or jewelry. I mustered a smile for him.
"Sorry," I said. "I called you earlier."
"And I called you back."
"Did you?" I pulled out my cell phone and saw three missed calls from him. "Oh, shit. I had the ringer off. Sorry."
He shrugged and stood up. "It's okay, just part of the endless torment I go through for you. One mysterious message saying you're going to Vancouver indefinitely. Another saying you're back but don't know for how long. Then no answer."
I realized I hadn't even thought much about how this international travel would affect Dante. That kind of radio silence would have never happened with Seth. I wouldn't have rested until we'd made contact and would have quickly noticed the ringer problem. With Dante, I'd left the voice-mail message and promptly put him out of my mind.
I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and unlocked the door. His face was scratchy and overdue for a shave. "Sorry," I said again. "How's it been going?"
"Same as it always does. Had a couple of drunk teens come in for palm readings last night, so that was a windfall. I could have taken you out someplace nice for a change."
"It would have beat what I was doing instead."
As we went upstairs to my apartment, I briefly gave him an overview of what was going on. As someone attuned to the paranormal world, there was little about demonic affairs that surprised him. I'd met Dante back in December, during the mess with Niphon. As part of his plan, Niphon had used a chaos entity named Nyx to suck energy from me in my sleep via realistic, emotionally charged dreams. Not knowing what was happening, I'd come to Dante for dream interpretation. He'd been abrasive, sarcastic, and infuriating throughout the entire process yet had steadily grown on me-until I learned the truth about his past. He'd done horrible things-hurt people, killed people, betrayed his own principles-in the name of selfish desires and a quest for power. Those atrocities had left him with an empty soul and bitter self-loathing. I'd loathed him too and swore I was done with him.
Then, things had fallen apart with Seth and me. My world had been torn apart, and I found myself with an empty soul and bitter self-loathing of my own. Seth had inspired me to believe in better things in the world, but all that hope had disappeared with our love. Dante's bleak, cynical outlook seemed more realistic now and more in line with my own worldview. He and I had hooked up, eerily compatible in our mutual despair. I didn't love him, but I liked him.
I poured us glasses of Grey Goose once we were inside. I preferred gimlets but didn't feel like going to the trouble of finding my lime juice. We settled on my couch with our drinks and cigarettes, and I finished up the story of my Canadian misadventures.
"Wow," he said when I was done. "All that because you f**ked your therapist?" Unlike Seth, who hadn't liked knowing details about my succubus sex life, Dante took it all in stride.
I shrugged. "Well, I had nothing to do with the vampire gang war last night. But yeah, the rest is on me, I guess. You think they're related?"
He swirled his vodka around. "If you don't think Cedric did it, then probably not. The vampire thing is likely a coincidence. But that Portland demon was right. You probably are being played." There was almost a growl to his words, uncharacteristically protective.
I groaned. "But how? Everyone keeps saying that, yet I only got involved twenty-four-hours ago. How am I being manipulated in some huge affair in so short a time?"
"Because you've walked into something that's been going on for a while. It's not built around you per se, but now you're in it."
I leaned back against the couch and stared bleakly at the ceiling. "I should have never slept with Dr. Davies."
"Was he good?"
"Are you jealous?"
"Nah. Just trying to figure out what turns you on."
"Scathing wit, if present company's any indication."
"Somehow, I'm not convinced that's the allure. Besides, are you saying you're turned on right now?"
I was still staring at the ceiling. There were some fine cracks in the paint I hadn't noticed before. "Do you think I should move?"
"What, closer to me?"
"No, as in out. Into a new place."
"What's wrong with this one? You have a great place. At least you don't live where you work." Dante's bedroom was attached to his store.
I leaned forward and looked at him with a smile. "I might as well live where I work. I don't know. I feel like it's time for a change."
His gray eyes were thoughtful as he regarded me. "You've told me about this-how you get an itch for change and suddenly end up transforming your identity and moving to a different country."
Reaching out, I gently brushed some of his black hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ears. "I've only been here for fifteen years. It's way too soon to leave."
"So you say. Today you talk about a new apartment, tomorrow you could disappear. For all I know, maybe you're scoping out new employment opportunities in Vancouver."
I laughed and knocked back the rest of my vodka. "No, definitely not. Although, I think Cedric would be easier to work for than Jerome. Or at least a little less annoying."
"Even in Canada?"
"Canada's not that bad. Vancouver's actually a pretty cool city. But don't tell anyone I said that."
Dante set his glass down and reached into his shirt pocket. "Maybe I can bribe you to stick around. Or at least be on time."
A flash of gold caught my eye as he lifted out a watch. It was delicate, almost looking more like a bracelet than a true watch. It had gold links for a band, and its face had a filigree pattern that glittered in the light. I often found watches boring and utilitarian, but this was beautiful. He handed it to me, and I held it up to get a better look. I could shape-shift any jewelry I wanted onto me, but something manmade-something given as a gift-always had more meaning.
