City of Demons (8 page)

“Sure. That would be my ‘annoying yet adorable sense of right and wrong,' right?”

He grinned. “It's what makes you so entertaining.”

I turned back to my drink. “I can't stand against them. I'll go insane. And this thing will never end.”

“Then cast your vote.” I got the impression Luis's interest was now more in observing the moral snafu I was in, rather than seeing how the trial ended.

“Don't know if I can do that either.”

He stood up and patted my shoulder. “Well then, darling. You're fucked. But if you survive all this, you can come work for me in Vegas anytime.”

Luis left the bar, and I followed a few minutes later. As I did, I passed Kurtis. He smirked and started to join me.

“I don't want to talk to you,” I snapped.

“I hear there was a little dissension in the jury.” He chuckled. “But only a little.”

I stopped and turned on him, forgetting for half a second I was squaring off against a demon more powerful than me physically and magically.

“I can't believe you did this! Arranged this. It's bad enough you wanted to bribe people, even if it made the wrong person suffer. But this? Now
two
people will suffer.”

“I hear it's a pretty sound theory, though,” he said glibly.

“It's horrible.”

“We work for Hell, little one.” When I didn't respond, he continued, “Besides, if it goes my way, I'll still make good on our deal. This is a win for you.”

“I don't need your deal.”

“Right. Because your boyfriend is proving true and stalwart against Blondie.”

“He is.”

Kurtis shook his head, still wearing that annoying smirk. “Georgina, Georgina. No wonder Luis likes you so much. You're adorable.” He took a step toward me and lowered his voice. “I know about last night, and from what
I
saw, your guy didn't seem to do that good a job against your—I mean,
her
—charms.”

“You followed me?” I cried. This got worse and worse. I bit back a stream of obscenities. “Well, it doesn't matter. He didn't try anything. He didn't offer anything.”

“Well, it was only the first date,” pointed out Kurtis.

“It wasn't a date.”

He rolled his eyes. “Semantics. Okay, then. You think he could be so noble again? On the second da—whatever?”

“There isn't going to be a second da—whatever.”

“Are you sure? Would he refuse?”

“Of cour—” I stopped because suddenly, I wasn't sure.

Kurtis laughed at my doubt and stepped away. “Go and see.”

I watched him go. A thousand emotions rushed through me. Fear and frustration over the jury. Doubt and jealousy over Seth. Kurtis was a very good demon, I realized. And by good, I meant evil and despicable. Once again, he'd thrown me into the kind of state that's led mortals into temptation for millennia. My stress and anxiety from the jury debacle only intensified matters.

Which is why it shouldn't have been surprising when—despite my promises not to repeat last night—I called Seth and told him I'd be busy tonight. A half hour later, I found a lobby phone and called him as Beth, asking him for dinner again.

To my supreme dismay, he accepted.

Chapter Ten

I'd had pretty bad hand-eye coordination when I'd been a mortal, but centuries and centuries of practice will pretty much perfect almost any skill set.

“Whoa,” said Seth, wide-eyed.

A Ping-Pong ball sailed from my hand and landed neatly into a glass filled with blue water. About twenty other glasses sat pressed together around the blue one, some with clear water and some with red. I eyed my target and launched another Ping-Pong ball. It too landed in the blue glass. It was the third time I'd hit my mark.

The guy running the game booth shook his head. “I don't see that very often.”

Seth turned and grinned at me—or rather, he turned and grinned at Beth. We'd taken a cab to this small, beachside carnival and had spent most of our evening playing games and spinning around on rides that caused me only a little more nausea than jury deliberation had. After all that demonic bribery and intrigue, impersonating another woman in order to test my boyfriend seemed downright mundane.

“That was amazing,” said Seth. “You play sports or something?”

“Now and then,” I replied enigmatically.

“Here you go.” The game attendant shook his head again and handed me a large, stuffed dragon. I handed it to Seth, who already held a unicorn and a bear.

“You sure you're okay with all that?” I asked him as we walked away.

“Hey, I'm not winning anything,” he replied, shifting his hold on the animals. “You're doing all the work. I figure I should just help out the best I can.”

I laughed. It was such a typical Seth thing to say. If his arms weren't full, I might have been in danger of reaching out and holding his hand.

“I can't keep those,” I told him. “You want to take them home?”

“No,” he said promptly. “Too much trouble.” I wondered if he was contemplating the difficulty in fitting them in his luggage or the difficulty in explaining to his girlfriend how he'd acquired another woman's midway winnings.

Fluffy clouds of pale pink caught my eye, and I honed in on a cotton candy vendor. I bought a clump of it, and Seth and I sat on a nearby bench so that he could deposit his burden and eat the spun sugar with me.

“Good God,” he said, putting a piece into his mouth. “I can feel myself getting diabetes already.”

I didn't respond right away, instead luxuriating in the way the billowy sugar melted away to nothing on my tongue. “You look like you're in shape,” I told him a few moments later. “I don't think you're doing any permanent damage.”

“Not at the moment, no. But I can't make this a regular thing. I swim and jog, but considering how much time I just, well, sit around . . . yeah. Gotta watch this stuff.” He tore off another piece. “But not right now.”

I chuckled. “I hear you. I have to go to the gym every day and . . .” I paused. What trendy fitness activity were mortal women doing these days? “... and pay homage to the elliptical machine. Pain in the ass—no pun intended. I mean, I hate those people who can eat anything they want and never gain a pound.”

He nodded. “Yeah, my girlfriend's like that—” He cut himself off and abruptly looked elsewhere.

“It's okay,” I said. “You don't have to avoid talking about her. We're just friends, remember?” Several awkward moments passed. We weren't making out or anything, but no one in their right mind was oblivious enough to think this outing had no romantic overtones. “So? What about her? Is she in really good shape?”

“Um, yeah,” he finally said. The dangerous topic had triggered some of his usual hesitancy. “Really slim.”

“Cool,” I said. “And she doesn't work out or anything? She must have good genes.”

Seth choked on his cotton candy a little. “Yeah. Great genes.”

“How long have you guys been dating?”

“A couple months.”

“Is it serious?” He didn't reply. “Look,” I said hastily, “if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine, really ...”

“No, no.” He sighed. “It's just ... I'm sorry. This is just kind of weird for me. Us. You and me.” He gestured toward the happy people mingling around the carnival attractions. “This. I just don't ... I'm just not sure ... I don't know.”

“You feel guilty?” I asked.

He considered. “Yeah. A little. I mean, we're in town for her ... thing, so it's not like I'm neglecting anything of my own by being here tonight. I got my writing in. She's busy. And, um, I like hanging out with you, but the whole thing is ...”

“... weird,” I finished.

“Yeah.”

“I understand. I know it's hard ... men and women being friends always are. And I don't want to cause any trouble for you. We can go now if you want.” I paused meaningfully before going in for the kill. “I mean, especially if you guys are having problems or anything . . . probably best if we don't . . .”

Seth stared off at the gray line of the Pacific. “Not problems. Just a few kinks here and there.”

I waited for him to say more, but he didn't. So. Seth didn't think everything was perfect with us. No surprise there.
I
sure didn't. Hearing him acknowledge it—to a woman he hardly knew—yanked painfully at something inside my chest.

But, he didn't seem like he was going to elaborate on it, which was good. He also didn't seem like he was going to get up and leave, however, so he wasn't taking my—Beth's—offer to end tonight's awkwardness. I tried to think of what some ostensibly helpful and secretly lustful woman would say. God knows I'd played this role plenty of times in the past. Nothing like a helpful confidante to pave the way for seduction.

“Anything you want to talk about?” He glanced over at me, and I offered a small smile. “Want a woman's perspective?”

He provided a small smile of his own in return and shook his head. “It's more than that. The prob—kinks we have . . . well, they're just little cracks here and there in what's otherwise a . . .” The wheels of word choice spun in his head. “. . . a work of art.”

“Little cracks can eventually destroy a work of art,” I pointed out.

“Yeah,” he said wistfully. “But for now, it's so beautiful.” More silence fell, and at last, Seth straightened up from the slouch he'd fallen into. “You know, maybe we should go. I'm sorry . . . I don't mean to . . .”

Relief flooded through me. Seth was walking away from this situation.

“No, no, it's okay,” I assured him, crumpling up the cotton candy paper. “It's getting late anyway.”

We stood up, and Seth gathered my winnings again. Frowning, he glanced down at them and then let his eyes drift off to the people walking up and down the midway, watching and playing games. I followed his gaze and knew him well enough to immediately know what held his attention.

A woman—mid-thirties maybe—was walking through. She had two grade school children, a boy and a girl, walking with her while she pushed a stroller holding a toddler. The boy was pointing toward one of the games. I couldn't hear what he said, but he sounded excited. They passed near us, and I heard his mother's words clearly.

“No one
ever
wins those things,” she told him. “It's a waste of money.”

They kept going and then paused in the shadow of a crazily spinning ride, so she could kneel down and fuss with the toddler's bottle.

“Be right back,” Seth told me.

A smile crept onto my face as I watched him stroll over, bearing the stuffed animals. They were too far away now for me to hear, but I watched him speak to the woman and present his offerings to the children. My heart fluttered, and my insides turned wispier than the cotton candy. Seth was amazing. There was no one else in the world like him. No one as sweet. No one as kind.

“Do you know,” a voice suddenly said in my ear, “how easily the bolts in one of those cars could come loose? And at the speed they're going . . . wow. Yeah. It'd be pretty bad for anyone in the car—not to mention anyone it hit on the ground.”

I turned jerkily and looked into the cold eyes of Magenta Lips from the jury. Weak Chin stood beside her. A slight shimmer to their appearance told me they were invisible to mortal eyes. Damn. For half a second, Seth's sweet nature had made me forget about my woes. Now, here they were, right in front of me.

“And did you also know,” Weak Chin added, “how many people in a crowd like this are armed? Guns, knives. So easy for things to go awry if some would-be thief tries to steal from someone. Hell, there doesn't have to be a crime involved. A trivial fight breaks out, someone pulls a gun, some bystander in the crowd is in the wrong place at the wrong time . . .”

“And yet, even
that's
not as dangerous as the ride back,” mused the demoness. “People still don't believe those statistics about flying being safer than driving, but it's amazing what can go wrong on the road. Drunk driver. Brake failure. Really, it's a wonder mortals live as long as they do.”

“Fortunately,” pointed out Weak Chin, “
we
aren't mortal, so we don't have to worry about anything like that.” He turned from me, and I followed his eyes to where Seth still stood talking to the family. “Poor bastards.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked in a small voice.

Magenta Lips' magenta lips turned up in a cruel smile. “Of course not, sweetie. You know the rules. We can't harm
you
. Wouldn't dream of it.” But her eyes were on Seth now too.

“Look, if you guys think—”

“Oh, look at that,” interrupted Weak Chin, glancing down at his watch. “We need to get back. Still got more deliberation in the morning, and I'm sure we'll all want a good night's sleep if it turns out to be as long as today's was.”

“Well,” said Magenta Lips crisply. “Let's hope it isn't.”

They vanished. A minute later, Seth walked back over to me, smiling broadly. It was another of those full ones I loved so much, but I couldn't even appreciate it.

“Now
there
are some people who really value a good throwing arm.” The smile faded as he peered at me. “Are you okay?”

No. No, I wasn't. I could barely focus on his face, and I felt cold all over, despite the warm weather. The two demons' words had ripped into me like shrapnel.

“I . . . yeah . . .” I swallowed. “Just not feeling so great all of a sudden. Let's go back.”

* * *

I didn't sleep well that night. “Not well” meaning “not at all.” I tossed and turned and alternated between staring at the ceiling and at Seth. Apparently he'd gained no sugar high from the carnival food because he'd been fast asleep when I'd arrived back in my normal body. He slept heavily and peacefully throughout the night, a content look on his face. He didn't look like a guy who couldn't touch his succubus girlfriend or who had a death threat hanging over his head.

Surely . . . surely they wouldn't do it, I thought. They were bluffing. Trying to scare me. They
couldn't
do it.

Except . . . they could. As a juror and demonic “property,” I was untouchable. But nobody in Hell's hierarchy would care what they did to Seth. He was a mortal, one who didn't play much of a role in anything that concerned them. No one would raise an eyebrow if he died under mysterious—or mundane—circumstances.

The thought that they would try to do this to me made me ill. And yet, I knew I had no reason to feel so wronged. I was a fucking succubus. I worked for Hell. Everyone who was part of this insane spectacle had given in to temptation and sold their souls out for greed, jealousy, or some other vice. There were no morals here. No sense of honor. No need for justice. No one cared about Seth. No one cared if Starla and Clyde were guilty or not.

Except, of course, me.

When morning came, I went to the deliberation room like someone sleepwalking. The others had already gathered, just like yesterday. When I entered, they all looked up, and the sight of those smirks and knowing looks made my stomach roil. I averted my eyes, looked straight ahead, and sat in my corner.

“All right then,” said Magenta Lips. An image of her eyes on Seth last night flashed into my head. “Shall we wrap this up? Who's in favor of convicting Starla and Clyde?”

“Me,” said Peanut Butter.

“Me,” said Weak Chin.

Around the room they went. And just like yesterday, it all came down to me again. Twelve demons, eyes boring into me. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I could smell brimstone in the air. I hunkered back into my corner.

Just say the word
, an angry voice in my head said.
Agree with them. End this. Go home. Keep Seth safe.

Seth. Seth was what mattered here. Whatever happened to Starla and Clyde wouldn't kill them. It would hurt. Oh, yeah. It would definitely hurt. Like, five centuries worth of hurt. But they'd survive. Not like Seth. Seth was mortal. One accident would kill him. And whereas both Starla and Clyde probably had a laundry list of
other
atrocities they deserved punishment for, Seth did not. Seth was good. Seth gave stuffed animals away to children. Seth came clean about his girlfriend with another woman he was attracted to. Seth did what was right.

Seth
always
did what was right.

The words hurt coming out when I spoke to the demons.

“I'm . . . not . . . convinced . . . yet . . .”

They'd been surprised yesterday to hear my dissension, but they were
really
surprised today. I don't think this many demons had been caught off guard since the Reformation.