Succubus Shadows. Richelle Mead

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СКАЧАТЬ I did know. I’d seen him forget parts of his real life plenty of times while caught up in a book. I wondered if this new project he was so enthusiastic about would intensify that zeal.

      “So you’ve got the ending for Cady and O’Neill figured out?” I asked.

      “No,” he said with a sigh, glow dimming. “That’s the problem. I don’t know how this is going to end.”

      I suddenly wondered if he was still talking about the books. Our gazes met again, and whatever might have come next was interrupted when Beth appeared at my side. “Georgina? A friend of yours is here to see you.”

      My heart leapt. Roman. Roman had read my note. His advice on that eerie siren song was about the only thing that could have dragged me away from Seth. I sprang up from my seat, giving Seth an apologetic look. “I’ve got to go.”

      He nodded, some troubled emotion in his eyes that I couldn’t identify. That troubled me in return. He might be good at keeping his emotions off of his face, but at one time, I’d been pretty good at figuring them out.

      “No problem,” he said. Wistfulness? Was that the mystery emotion?

      I couldn’t ponder it any longer. Roman was more important. I took the steps downstairs two at a time, anxious to see him. But when I reached the registers, where Beth had said my friend was waiting, it wasn’t Roman I saw. It was Cody.

      Or, well, I think it was.

      It took me a moment to figure it out. He was dressed all in black—and not just jeans and a T-shirt. We were talking full regalia: a studded-leather jacket, steel-toed boots, and an—ugh—mesh shirt. His blond hair had black streaks in it, and heavy black eyeliner and lipstick over white foundation completed the look. I didn’t know what to say, so I simply grabbed his arm and dragged him into my office before anyone else could see him.

      “What the hell are you doing?” The sun had only just gone down, which meant he must have doubled the speed limit to make it here so quickly.

      “I’m here to see Gabrielle,” he explained, casting an anxious glance at my doorway. “Where is she? I wanted to get here before you guys closed.”

      “She’s not working tonight.” His face fell, but I couldn’t help but add, “And honestly, I think that’s a good thing.”

      “Why? Peter had a copy of The Seattle Sinner, and after going through it, we thought this would be the way to get her attention. He helped dress me.”

      “Wait. Peter had a copy of—? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Believe me, you would have gotten her attention. But I’m not sure it’d be the kind you want.”

      Cody gestured to his attire. “But she’s into this scene. You said yourself that she dresses all in black.”

      “Yeah,” I admitted. “But yours seems…I don’t know. Overdone. People like her are always on the lookout for wannabes. You try too hard, and you’ll just put her further off.”

      He sighed and slumped into my desk’s chair, dejected. “Then what am I supposed to do? That newspaper was my only lead.”

      “Well, for starters, don’t let Peter dress you again. Ever. As for the rest…I don’t know. Let me ask around and see if I can get you more to go on. Just please don’t wear this outfit again.”

      “Okay,” he agreed.

      Just then, Doug stuck his head in. It wasn’t his night to work, so I was kind of surprised, but not nearly as surprised as he was.

      “Hey, Kincaid, I had a question about the schedu—Jesus Fucking Christ! What is that?”

      “It’s Cody,” I said.

      Doug walked gingerly into the office and peered at Cody’s face. “Well, I’ll be damned. It is. I thought it was the ghost of Gene Simmons.”

      “Gene Simmons isn’t dead,” said Cody.

      “Cody’s trying to impress Gabrielle,” I explained. Doug opened his mouth, no doubt to comment on the impossibility of that, but I held up a hand to stop him. “Yeah, yeah. I know. What did you need?”

      Doug needed to switch some shifts, and without his ladylove around, Cody decided to leave. I let him out the back door, not wanting to cause a panic in the store. Once the schedule was set, Doug and I bantered about the Cody and Gabrielle situation. Before long, I lost track of time, and closing announcements were being made on the intercom. Doug said his farewells—half afraid I’d put him to work if he stayed—and I set off to finish my own tasks. My meeting with Erik was getting closer, and I felt a mix of excitement and apprehension.

      An hour after the doors were locked, staff began to go home. I made one last sweep of the store and found Seth still sitting in the café. No surprise. My coworkers could never bring themselves to kick him out when we closed. He’d actually gotten locked in once and accidentally set off the alarm. I walked over to his table, noting the enraptured look on his face as his fingers danced along the laptop’s keys.

      “Hey, Mortensen,” I said. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

      It took almost thirty seconds for him to look up, and even then, he seemed surprised to see me. “Oh. Hey.”

      I could feel a smile playing on my lips. This was picture perfect Seth behavior. “Hey, we’re all closed down. Time to go.”

      He glanced around, noting the dark windows and lack of people in the store. “Oh, man. Sorry. I didn’t even notice.”

      “I take it the muse came back?”

      “She did.”

      “So you know how it’s going to end now?”

      “No. Not yet.”

      I walked Seth to the back door and armed the alarm before letting myself out. He told me good-bye, and if he’d had any dreamy affection for me earlier in the night, it was gone now. His characters now consumed his heart. It was something I’d had to accept when we were together, and watching him walk down the street, I decided that was how it should be. Seth’s writing was too much of his being.

      I let my own dreamy affection go and drove up north of the city to Erik’s store. I still felt a little bad about him meeting me so late, but the lights in his windows gleamed out into the night. And inside, the usual music and incense were going strong, just as they would during business hours. Glancing around, I didn’t see him right away. Then, I noticed him kneeling down in front of some palmistry books.

      “Hey, Erik.”

      “Miss Kincaid.”

      He rose to his feet, but the motions were jerky and unsteady. And when he finally turned to face me, there was a gauntness in his dark-skinned face that hadn’t been there the last time I saw him. My instinct was to rush over and support him, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t welcome that. Still, I asked the obvious.

      “Are you okay? Have you been sick?”

      He gave me a gentle smile and began moving—slowly—toward the store’s main counter. “A СКАЧАТЬ