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I smiled, not entirely sure what to say.
Cedric clasped his hands in front of him, face turning serious. "So, let's get down to business. You're here to spy on me."
My mouth opened, but nothing coherent came out right away. "Um..."
He waved his hand. "No, no, it's fine. You don't honestly expect me to believe Jerome would do me a favor without strings attached? Whatever. I don't have anything to hide. He can keep his territory-I'm too busy watching my own. You can tell him whatever you want so long as you do what I need you to."
"Right," I said, finding my voice at last. "Your embarrassing Satanic cult."
He grimaced. "God, those guys are such a pain in the ass. What do you know about them?"
"That they aren't Satanists like the usual groups, not like Anton LaVey's followers or the anti-Christians." I felt like a student reciting in front of a class.
"They think they're anti-Christian, but mostly, they're just ridiculous. Just some flakes in search of identity who got together and thought it'd be cool to be evil. They have meetings in robes and keep making up secret handshakes."
"And that's a problem?"
"Nah, I don't care about any of that. They can play dress-up all they want. What's annoying is that they're doing all the things people think evil people do but don't actually do. They ripped up a bunch of bibles once and left them on this church's lawn. They also appear to have a fondness for spray paint."
"I heard about that."
"They keep writing stupid stuff like 'The Angel of Darkness is Lord' and 'What Would Satan Do?'" Cedric rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like that's original."
"I can see why you'd be embarrassed," I admitted.
"No kidding. The worst part is that they're attracting some media attention- especially among local churches. So, now those guys are doing their own sort of backlash and triggering a whole bunch of demonstrations about faith and light and all that stuff. Not what we need. Kind of defeats our purpose, really."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Kristin hangs out with them sometimes. They know her and recognize what side she works for, but frankly, she doesn't have the people skills to manipulate them. She'll take you to them and give them some bullshit about how you're high-ranking in the ways of evil or something equally absurd. Then, I want you to hang out with them and just be part of their group. Stop them from doing more stupid things. Get them to go back to their role-playing in the basement. Hell, if you can convince them to disband, go for it." He eyed me. "You're a succubus. You've been around for a while. You should be able to talk them into anything."
I nodded. "I can."
"Good. I'm tired of them. I'm not allowed to interfere directly, and my own people are too busy." He stood up and walked toward the door. I took the hint and followed. "Do whatever you want the rest of the day. Kristin'll take you over to them tomorrow. Check them out. See what you think. I've got some appointments in the morning, but stop by anyway and give me your impressions of those fools."
"Is there anything in particular you want me to find out for you?"
"Yes," he said. "In addition to keeping them out of trouble, I want you to simply observe them. They're not just attracting media attention-they're attracting attention from my superiors." Ah, yeah. Hell could get pissy about that kind of thing. "If someone's purposely manipulating them, I want to know."
"Okay."
He gave me a narrow-eyed look. "And I hope it's not Jerome."
He still had that mild, businesslike exterior, but I heard the stern note in his voice. I shivered but gave him a smile anyway, trying not to think about misdirection.
"I hope not either."
I was a bit surprised at how short my meeting with Cedric had been. I was more surprised still that after all the grief Jerome had given me about the urgency of this trip, I now had nothing to do. Of course, if he was trying to get rid of me, this was as good a way as any. My bad attitude and I were out of Seattle.
It was dinnertime when I got back to Robson Street, so I found food at an Ethiopian restaurant a few blocks from my hotel and lingered over the remains of my meal with a novel I'd picked up a few days ago. Afterward, I wandered up and down the street, looking at various shops and designers, but eventually had to stop after passing two T-shirt stores. One sold retro stuff and had a dark purple Quiet Riot shirt in their window. Another sold Canadian souvenirs and displayed a shirt showing a map of Canada in red with a map of the U.S. below it in blue. The caption read: "Canada Likes It on Top." If I'd still been dating Seth, I would have bought him both. He would have shaken his head and given me a slight quirk of the lips as he tried to hide his smile.
The thought depressed me, and I found myself growing sadder and sadder as I walked back to my hotel. In that moment, I would have given anything to be with Seth again, to right the wrongs we'd done to each other back around Christmastime. Losing him was losing a part of me that-
Searing, white-hot anger suddenly shot through me. What the f**k was I whining about? Why should I miss him? Why should I pine for someone who'd betrayed me and hurt me with my friend , of all people? Seth didn't deserve my longing or my love, and as I continued walking, that dark despair within me transformed to rage and spite-just as it had done nearly every day for the past four months.
When I got back to the hotel, I was no longer sad. I was pissed. I hated everyone and everything, but especially Seth. I wanted to make him pay. Unfortunately, there was no way to do that, not here in Vancouver. Passing near the hotel's bar on my way through the lobby, I paused and surveyed the patrons. It was a veritable smorgasbord of men, most of them lone travelers making transient friends over their drinks. My succubus lust sprang up in me, and suddenly, all I wanted was to get drunk and go to bed with some guy. I wanted to lose myself in the haze of alcohol and f**king, in the hopes that it might all dull the pain that lay buried under my anger.
And as I scanned the room, one guy in particular caught my attention. The face was all wrong, but he had hair almost the same color as Seth's. It was worn messy too, though it appeared as though he'd achieved that look with gel, rather than the lack of brushing Seth employed. No, this guy wasn't a perfect match by any means, but he was close, and there was an aura of shy vulnerability about him that I liked.
Putting on a smile, I strolled across the room to introduce myself. I might not be able to actually punish Seth, but at least for tonight, I could pretend that I could.
CHAPTER 4
"Can I call you?"
The Sorta-Seth-Lookalike lay naked in bed, still worn out even though he'd come hours ago. I stood near the door, fully dressed, slipping on my shoes. It turned out he was actually here on business from Seattle, and he'd been ecstatic to learn we lived in the same city.
"Mmm." I pursed my lips as though I were giving this a lot of thought. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
"Really?" His brief, happy look faded. He'd turned out to be as vulnerable and shy as I thought. I was only the second woman he'd ever slept with. "But I felt like...well, I felt like we really connected."
I fixed him with a cold look. That smothering rage from last night no longer consumed me, but I was still angry at the world and needed to lash out at anyone I could. "Our bodies connected. That's about it. The truth is, I already have a boyfriend."
His eyes widened. I realized then I should have mentioned having a boyfriend before we had sex. It would have doubled his guilt and given me a stronger fix. Still, the agony he now felt over sleeping with someone else's girlfriend was undoubtedly blackening his soul even as we spoke.
"R-really?"
"Yup. Sorry. This was just a way to pass the time. And honestly, baby? You want some feedback? You've still got a lot to learn. It really wasn't that great."
I left before I could see the full effect of my words. It would hurt, I had no doubt about that. Devastating him didn't really make me feel better, but it had frozen me up enough so that I didn't have to process any real emotions. I was numb, which was about the best I could hope for.
Kristin was waiting for me at a coffee shop down the street so that she could drive me over to the cult leader's house. Her mousy brown hair was pulled up into a neat French twist, and her crisp suit reminded me of something Grace or Mei might wear, save that this was navy as opposed to their usual black or-on daring days-red. She drank what looked like a cappuccino and picked over the remains of a bagel, her eyes lost in thought as she no doubt pondered the coming day's wheeling and dealing.
