He raised an eyebrow. "I think that's a terrible idea."

"I can go invisible."

"She'll still sense you."

"You can hide my signature. You told me before that you could. Was that a lie?"

Roman grimaced. Just before things had literally blown up between us, he'd asked me to run away with him, promising he could conceal me from the greater immortals.

"I can," he admitted. "But I just think you're asking for trouble."

"What am I risking?"

"A lot. Whether it's Seth or Jerome, there's obviously something going on. Get tangled up in that, and you could be risking your life. I won't let that happen to you."

"Since when do you care what happens to me?" I asked incredulously.

"Since you became my ticket to rent-free living."

And with that, he turned invisible, hiding his signature as well.

"Coward!" I cried. My only answer was the front door opening and then shutting. He was lost to me, and I realized I'd again missed my chance to bring up my weird encounters from these last couple days.

I tossed and turned again that night, but it had nothing to do with my fear of walking off the balcony or into Puget Sound. I was filled with rage, both at Simone for making the moves on Seth and at Roman for abandoning me. When I woke up in the morning, I took comfort in knowing I didn't need Roman to confront Simone. I could do that on my own.

Of course, there were a few complications there, the first being I didn't know where Simone was. Her hotel was probably the logical place to start, though most succubi-even a bland one like her-wouldn't spend a lot of time hanging out there. Well, unless she had company-and I didn't really want to walk into anything like that. And anyway, I had one tiny commitment to attend to before I could go bitch-hunting.

Maddie.

I'd regretted my decision to go shopping with her the moment the words had left my mouth. Yet, somehow, I'd totally blocked out those feelings yesterday when I'd been sitting with Seth. A brief thought about the wedding had flitted through my mind...and then it had been gone. I'd spent the rest of the time laughing and talking with him as though there was no Maddie in the world. But as I headed over to the bookstore, where she and I had agreed to meet, I had to accept reality once more. Seth was no longer mine.

He also wasn't Simone's. But I'd deal with that later.

Maddie was waiting for me downstairs, but I used the excuse of needing coffee before we left, in order to dash up to the cafe. I wanted to see if Simone was lurking. No matter her shape, I'd know if she was there. Yet, as I casually waited in line for my white chocolate mocha, I sensed nothing immortal. Seth was there, engrossed in his work, and never even saw me. Apparently, his muse was still going strong.

I let him be and joined Maddie downstairs again. She had a list of eight store names and addresses. Most were dress shops, and I was skeptical that we could make them all before we were due into work. She was more optimistic, but then, that was typical of her.

"No point in worrying right now," she said. "We'll just do them one at a time and see where that gets us. Besides, the last few are bakeries, and we wouldn't want to eat a bunch of cake before trying on dresses."

"Speak for yourself," I said, sliding into her passenger seat. "I'm not trying anything on."

She gave me a wry smile. "Aren't you? You're my bridesmaid, remember? We talked about it at the party."

"No," I said swiftly. "I said and did all sorts of crazy stuff that night, but I never agreed to it. That I do remember."

Maddie's expression was still light, but I thought I heard a little hurt in her voice when she spoke next. "What's the big deal? Why don't you want to be one? You know I'd never dress you in anything horrible."

Why? I pondered the answer as she pulled into traffic. Because I'm in love with your future husband. I could hardly tell her that, of course. As it was, I could see my continuing silence was making her feel worse. She was reading it as a slight to our friendship.

"I just...I just don't like all the, uh, fanfare that goes with weddings. There's so much planning and stressing about little details. I'd rather just sit back in the audience and watch you go down the aisle." Well, actually, that was one of the last things I wanted to do.

"Really?" Maddie frowned, but thankfully, it was more out of surprise than disappointment. "You're always so good at planning and little details. I thought you were into that."

That was a fair point. It was why I made such a good manager. "Yeah, kind of...but I mean, at the receptions, drunk guys always hit on the bridesmaids, you know? They think we're desperate because we're the ones not getting married." Also not entirely far from the truth in my case.

Maddie's smile returned. "Those are some pretty lame excuses."

They were indeed, but she said nothing more as we drove.

After Maddie's initial failure with picking flattering wedding dresses, she now threw her faith completely into me to lead her to fashion success. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and I found myself slipping into style-advisor role pretty easily. In fact, if I was able to preoccupy myself with the objective parts of this process-flattering fit, color, etc.-it was easy to block out the big picture of her and Seth.

The saleswomen working at the stores soon learned who was in charge here and backed off with their recommendations, simply fetching the dresses I indictated. I studied each one Maddie tried on, keeping my standards high. With so many stores to choose from, we could afford to be picky.

"That one's good," I said at our third store. It was corseted, narrowing her waist, and had a skirt that didn't flare. Those puffy ones always made the hips look bigger, though no one ever seemed to realize that. You had to be tall and thin to get away with that, not short and buxom like Maddie.

She admired herself in the mirror, a look of pleasant surprise on her face. She was still drawn to ones that I didn't think were good choices, and this was the first of my picks that she really liked. The eager saleswoman jotted down the style number, and then Maddie started to turn around and try on the rest waiting in her dressing room. As she did, a dress on a mannequin caught her eye.

"Oh, Georgina, I know what you said, but you have to try that on," Maddie begged.

I followed her gaze. The dress was slinky and sexy, floor-length violet charmeuse with straps that tied around the neck. You were wearing that color the first time we met.

I averted my eyes. "Not ugly enough to be a bridesmaid dress."

"It'd look great on you. Everything looks great on you," she added with a shake of her head. "Besides, you could wear that to other things. Parties and stuff."

It was true. It didn't scream bridesmaid. Not taffeta or bright orange. Before I could protest further, the saleswoman had already fetched one from the rack, guessing my size with that uncanny ability her kind had.

So, reluctantly, I tried the dress on while Maddie went to her next option. The size wasn't perfect, but a little shape-shifting neatened it up where it needed to be. Maddie was right. It did look good on me, and when I stepped out, she took it as a done deal that I'd buy it-no, she offered to buy it-and would be in her wedding. The saleswoman, seeing an opportunity, and possibly getting back at me for my tyrannical attitude, had "helpfully" fetched two more dresses for me to try while I waited for Maddie. Maddie claimed she couldn't stand the thought of me waiting around with nothing to do, so I reluctantly took them into the dressing room. They too looked good, but not as good as the violet.

I was returning them to the saleswoman when my eye caught something. It was a bridal dress. It was made of ivory duchess satin, the fabric wrapping around the waist and halter top. The skirt was draped, pulled into little tiers. I stared. It would have been a disaster on Maddie, but on me...

"Want to try it?" asked the saleswoman slyly. Something told me that bridesmaids covertly trying on brides' dresses wasn't a rare phenomenon around here. The desperate and mournful not-getting-married attitude in action.

Before I knew it, I was back in the dressing room, wearing the ivory dress. You were wearing that color the first time we met. Seth had been wrong about that and corrected himself, but for some reason, the words came to me yet again. And the dress looked great. Really great. I wasn't overly tall but was slim enough that it didn't matter-and I filled out the top beautifully. I stared at myself in a way I hadn't with the other dresses, trying to imagine myself as a bride. There was something about brides and weddings that instinctively spoke to so many women, and I shared the impulse as well, jaded succubus or no. The grim statistics didn't matter: the divorce rates, the infidelity I'd witnessed so often...

Yes, there was something magical about brides, an image fixed into the collective subconscious. I could see myself with flowers in my hands and a veil on my head. There'd be well-wishers and joy, the giddy faith and hope of a beautiful life together. I'd been a bride once, so long ago. I'd had those dreams, and they'd blown away.

I sighed and took the dress off, afraid I might start crying. There would be no wedding for me. No bridal hopes. Not with Seth, not with anyone. Those things were lost to me forever. There was only an eternity alone, no lifelong lovers, only those I shared a night with....

Unsurprisingly, I was kind of depressed for the rest of the day.

Maddie bought the violet dress for me, and I was too glum to protest-which she read as acceptance of my bridesmaid fate. We made it through the rest of our dress stops but didn't get to the bakeries. By the end of it all, we had four candidates for her dress, which I regarded as good progress.

My mood didn't abate at work. I holed up in my office as much as I could, seeking solitude and my own dark thoughts. When I finally made it home after that eternity-long day, I found the condo empty and was astonished at how much that hurt me. I wished with all my heart that Roman was around, and it wasn't even to talk about Simone or other immortal mysteries. I just wanted his company. I just wanted to talk to him and not be alone. He was an infuriating part of my life, but he was also turning into a fixed infuriating part of my life. With a gloomy eternity ahead, that meant something.

I knew better than to wait up for him...but found myself doing it anyway. I lounged on the couch with Grey Goose and the cats, taking some small sweetness from those warm, furry creatures that loved me. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was on, which didn't cheer me up any. Like the masochist I was, I watched it anyway.

At least, I thought I was. Because suddenly, the loud shriek of a car horn blasted into my ears. I blinked and jerked my head around. I wasn't on the couch. There were no cats, no vodka. I sat on the railing of my balcony, precariously positioned. The horn had come from below, on the street. One car had nearly swiped another, and the near-victim had honked in his outrage.

I didn't exactly remember the trip out here. I did, however, remember the force that had drawn me-largely because it was still there. The light and the music-that feeling of comfort and rightness that was so hard to articulate hovered before me, off in the air. It was like a tunnel. No, it was like an embrace, arms waiting to welcome me home.

Come here, come here. Everything will be all right. You are safe. You are loved.

In spite of myself, one of my legs shifted on the railing. How easy would it be to step over, to walk into that sweet comfort? Would I fall? Would I simply hit the hard sidewalk below? It wouldn't kill me if I did. But maybe I wouldn't fall. Maybe I'd step into that light, into the bliss that could block out the pain that always seemed to surround me lately....

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

The driver that had nearly been hit had gotten out of his car and was yelling at the other. That driver got out and returned the insults, and a loud tirade began. One of my neighbors on the floor below opened his patio and shouted for them all to shut up.

The argument, that jarring noise, brought me back to myself. Once more, the siren song faded away, and for the first time, I almost felt...regret. Carefully, I climbed off the rail and back to the solidity of the balcony. A fall might not kill me, but good God, it would hurt.

I walked back into the condo, finding everything exactly as I'd left it. Even the cats hadn't moved, though they looked up at my arrival. I sat between them, absentmindedly petting Aubrey. I was scared again, scared and eerily attracted to what had just happened-and that scared me more.

Despite the vodka tonight, my last encounter had proven alcohol wasn't to blame. No connection. Yet...it occurred to me there had been a common link all three times. My mood. Each time, I'd been down...sad about my lot in life, seeking reassurance that wasn't to be found. And that's when this phenomenon would happen, offering a solution and the comfort I thought was beyond me.

That was bad news for me. Because if this thing was drawn to woe and unhappiness, I had plenty of it to go around.

Chapter 6.

I awoke to the smell of eggs and bacon. For a moment, I had the strangest sense of deja vu. When Seth and I were first getting to know each other, I'd crashed at his place after too much to drink. When I had woken up, I'd discovered a full breakfast spread in his kitchen.

A few moments later, reality sunk in. There was no desk or bulletin board of book notes, no teddy bear in a University of Chicago shirt. It was my own dresser that looked back at me, my own tangled pale blue sheets wrapped around my legs.

With a sigh, I clambered out of bed and walked out to the kitchen, wondering what was going on. To my astonishment, it was Roman playing chef at my stove, both cats sitting at his feet-no doubt hoping for a bit of dropped bacon.

"You cook?" I asked, pouring a cup of coffee.

"I cook all the time. You just don't notice."

"I notice you heating up a lot of frozen food. What's all this?"

He shrugged. "I'm starving. You don't get a lot of time to eat when you're on stalking duty."

I eyed the eggs, bacon, and pancakes. "Well, I think you'll be good to go for the rest of the day. Maybe the next two days. You sure did make a lot," I added hopefully.

"No need to be coy," he said, trying to hide a smile. "You can have some."

This was the best news I'd heard all day. Of course, I'd only been up for five minutes. Then, last night's events came slamming into me. "Oh, shit."

Roman glanced up from where he was flipping a pancake. "Hmm?"

"A funny thing happened last night...." I frowned. "Well, not so funny..."

I explained that mystery force's reappearance last night, as well as my unexpected swim from the other day. Roman listened quietly, the earlier levity rapidly disappearing from his face.

When I finished, he dumped his skillet of eggs into a bowl so hard that the bowl shattered. I took an uneasy step back. "Son of a bitch," he growled.

"Whoa, hey," I said. An angry nephilim was nothing I wanted around. "That's part of a matched set."

He glared at me, but I knew the anger wasn't toward me, exactly. "Three times, Georgina. This has happened three fucking times, and I wasn't around."

"Why should you be?" I asked in surprise. My surprise then took an odd turn into outrage. "You aren't my keeper."

"No, but some entity is invading my home." I decided not to point out that it was my home. "I should be dealing with that, not chasing some boring succubus for Jerome."

"Ask, and ye shall receive," a familiar voice suddenly said. Jerome's aura washed over us as he materialized by the kitchen table.

"About time," snapped Roman, that dark look still on his face. "I've been waiting forever for you to show up."

Jerome arched an eyebrow and lit a cigarette. "Forever, huh? It hasn't even been a week."

"Feels like it," said Roman. He handed me a plate of food, and I sat quietly at the table, deciding I should wait for this status report to unfold before delivering my latest problems to Jerome. "You guys should add following Simone to your list of punishments for the eternally damned."

Jerome smiled and flicked his ashes into a vase of gerbera daisies on my table. I wasn't thrilled about that, but at least it wasn't on my floor. "I take it you've seen no noteworthy activities? Mei reported the same thing."

Roman sat down beside me with his own food, setting the plate down with more force than he needed. I winced, but it didn't break. "She's done nothing but shop and take victims. Oh, and hit on Mortensen."

Both of Jerome's eyebrows rose this time. "Seth Mortensen?"

I started to ask how many Mortensens he knew, but Roman's next words cut me off. "Yeah, she's shown up a couple times, attempting some sort of lame seduction."

My anger started to kindle again and then- "Wait. A couple times?" I exclaimed. "More than the coffee shop?"

Roman looked at me, a brief glint of apology showing through his angry expression. "Yeah, I didn't have a chance to tell you. She came to the bookstore while you were out with Maddie yesterday. Very nicely timed with your absence."

I slammed my fork down on my plate. Really, it was a wonder I had any dishes left. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"Because I kind of didn't have the chance, seeing as we had bigger problems!"

Jerome had stiffened when Roman mentioned Simone attempting to seduce Seth. The reaction was weird, like he'd been caught by surprise. That was rare for a demon, rarer still for one to show it. Several moments later, he regained his composure, turning his attention to Roman's comment. "Bigger problems?"

"Georgina's being stalked," declared Roman.

"Georgina's always being stalked." Jerome sighed. "What is it this time?"

He kept his features neutral, but as we explained the situation, I saw something spark in his eyes...some sort of interest. At the very least, speculation.

Silence fell when Roman and I finished our story. I glanced at him, both of us waiting for my overlord to offer some sort of explanation.

"Your job with Simone is done," Jerome said at last.