I lost all sense of time, but that had more to do with the strange nature of dreams and not so much my brain. I actually think little time passed in the real world because every time the Oneroi showed me a glimpse of it, no progress seemed to have been made in finding me-something I believed the Oneroi hoped would break me further.

"Why do you keep asking us?"

The question came from Cody. I was now watching him, Peter, and Hugh being interrogated by Jerome. Carter sat in a far corner, smoking in spite of Peter's no-cigarettes-in-the-apartment rule. Roman was there too, invisible in body and aura. That meant I shouldn't have been able to see him, yet something-maybe because he was my target in this dream-allowed me to know he was there, despite what my senses told me. My friends knew about him. He had no need to hide his physical appearance, unless Jerome feared there might be demonic eyes watching Seattle-which wasn't that unreasonable. My disappearance had probably made him extra suspicious.

Cody's question had been directed toward Jerome, and I had never in my life seen such fury on the young vampire's face. He was the mildest of us all, newest to Seattle's immortal circle. He still jumped when Jerome said jump and spent more time watching and learning than taking an active role. Seeing him like this was a shock.

"We don't know anything!" Cody continued. "Our powers are limited. You're the one who's supposed to be almighty and powerful. Doesn't Hell control half the universe?"

"'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,'" quoted Carter solemnly.

"Shut up, both of you," snapped Jerome. He glared at the angel. "I've already heard you use that one before."

Carter shrugged. "You've heard me use all of them before. Many, many times."

Jerome turned back to my three friends. "Nothing. You're absolutely certain you noticed nothing about her before this happened?"

"She was down," said Peter.

"She's always down," said Hugh.

"She didn't tell any of us about this thing she kept feeling," growled Cody. "She only told Roman. Why aren't you questioning him?"

"I have," said Jerome. He took a step near the young vampire and leaned his face in close. "And watch your tone. You're lucky I'm feeling kindly right now."

"What's Mei doing?" asked Peter. His tone was proper and polite as he cast an uneasy glance at Cody. Half of Peter's question was probably a ploy to save his protege from being smote then and there.

Jerome sighed and stepped back. "Questioning others. Finding any trace-any at all-of another of our immortals who might have felt something."

Hugh, who was sitting on the couch and keeping his distance from our angry boss, cleared his throat nervously. "I don't want to bring this up...but, you're already kind of on probation after the, um, summoning."

Jerome's smoldering gaze fell on the imp, who flinched. "Don't you think I know that? Why is everyone here giving me useless information?"

"All I'm saying," said Hugh, "is that if someone wanted to take advantage of the situation, making you lose one of your immortals would be a good way. Someone who, say, maybe wanted a job promotion."

"Mei couldn't do this," said Jerome, catching on. He'd already had one lieutenant demoness turn, so Hugh's hypothesis wasn't that bad. "She couldn't hide Georgina like this...even if she was working with someone who could, she'd find a better way to get to me." There was almost a proud note in his voice.

"What about Simone?" demanded Cody. "She's out there impersonating Georgina, you know."

Both Peter and Hugh stared in astonishment. "She's what?" exclaimed the imp.

The attention from his friends seemed to fluster Cody more than Jerome's wrath. "Yeah, I was, um, visiting Gabrielle at the bookstore, and I saw Simone. She had Georgina's shape, but I could feel it was her."

"You saw Gabrielle?" asked Carter with interest, like my disappearance from the universe had now lessened in comparison to Cody's romance.

Cody flushed. "We...had a date. But I canceled it when I heard about Georgina. It's no big deal."

No big deal? My kidnapping was now ruining Cody's chances with the woman of his dreams.

"This is more useless information," growled Jerome. "And, yes, I know about Simone."

"Maybe you should be talking to her," said Cody.

"She didn't do it," said Jerome. The way he spoke implied that it was a closed case.

Peter was still treading cautiously around Jerome. "If you say she didn't...then she didn't. But why is she impersonating Georgina if she's innocent in all this?"

"She has her reasons," said Jerome vaguely.

Cody was outraged. "And you're just going to let her do it! How can you?"

"Because I don't care!" roared Jerome. A wave of power flared out from him like a shock wave. Everyone except Carter was blown back by it. The china in Peter's cabinet rattled. "I don't care what that other succubus does. I don't care about Georgina's human friends or what they think. If anything, you should be grateful. Simone's act is keeping the others from noticing what happened."

None of my friends had anything to say to that. With an exasperated snarl, Jerome turned toward the door. "I've had enough of this. I need real answers."

He stormed out into the hall, leaving the door open. Presumably, he did it as an act of angry defiance, but I knew it was so Roman could follow him. Normally, the demon would have simply teleported out, but for whatever reason, father and son were investigating together today. Once alone on the stairwell, Jerome muttered, "Hold on."

Roman must have because Jerome disappeared. He reappeared-and me along with him-in a new setting: Erik's store. It was evening, and Erik had shut down for the night. The fountains were off. The music had stopped playing. Yet, near the back of the store, a few notes of humming could be heard. They cut off almost immediately, and footsteps sounded as someone approached.

Jerome stayed where he was, not deigning to move. He knew his presence would have been promptly felt. He knew Erik would come to him.

And sure enough, gait still unsteady from being sick recently, Erik made his way to the store's front. He radiated wariness as he moved. For me, he always had a kindly smile and cup of tea. Even Carter, the most powerful immortal in Seattle, would earn a respectful smile. But Erik was on his guard now-which really wasn't that weird, considering who stood in his store.

Erik came to a stop a few feet from Jerome and straightened himself up as well as he could to his full height. He gave Jerome the smallest nod of greeting.

"Mr. Hanan'el," said Erik. "An unexpected visit."

Jerome had just taken a cigarette out of his coat, and it fell from his fingers. The look he gave Erik was a hundred times more terrifying than anything I'd ever seen. I expected another flare-up of power, one that would blow the entire building apart.

"Do not," said Jerome, "ever let that name cross your lips again, or I will rip them off." His voice was low and even, simmering with the rage and power he was holding back.

Had I been there, I would have gasped. Jerome's true name. Erik knew Jerome's true name. I used fake names to blend in and forget my identity. But for angels and demons, names were power. In the right hands, a name could be used to summon or control a greater immortal. In fact, for Dante to have summoned Jerome in the spring, Grace must have revealed that name.

Erik didn't flinch at Jerome being in smite mode. "I assume," said Erik, "you are seeking something."

"Yes," said Jerome, slightly mimicking Erik's tone. "I am 'seeking' my succubus."

Erik's eyebrows rose slightly. "Miss Kincaid?"

"Of course! Who else?" Jerome did technically have another succubus, Tawny. But maybe he wouldn't have gone hunting for her if she disappeared. He took out another cigarette and lit it without a lighter. "Do you know where she is? And don't lie to me. If you're keeping her from me, I will rip you apart, leaving your tongue for last."

"Ripping body parts appears to be a theme tonight," replied Erik, clasping his hands behind his back. "But no, I don't know where Miss Kincaid is. I didn't know she was missing."

Jerome took a step forward, eyes narrowed. "I told you, do not lie to me."

"I have no reason to lie. I like Miss Kincaid. I would never wish her harm. If I can help her, I will." Erik's wording was careful. It was me he was offering to help-not Jerome.

"She spoke to you about some force-some 'siren song' that kept coming to her," said Jerome. He gave a curt report of what Roman had observed when I disappeared. "What do you know about this thing? What kind of creature was it? It was feeding off her depression."

From the moment this dream had started, Jerome had displayed nothing but rage and terror. Yet...as he shot off questions, it was almost like he was rambling. There was desperation under all that anger. Desperation and frustration because he was in a situation with no answers and felt powerless. Demons, as a general rule, do not like feeling powerless. Resorting to human help-a human who knew his name, no less-must have been excruciatingly painful for my boss.

Erik, classy as always, remained calm and formal. "There are creatures who do that, yes, but I don't believe it was one of those. I believe it chose those times because she was weakest. It was simply a lure-probably not the creature or culprit itself."

"Then what creature is it?"

Erik spread his hands wide. "It could be any number of things."

"God-fucking-damn-it," said Jerome, dropping his cigarette onto Erik's floor and stomping on it hard.

"You're no longer connected to her?"

"Correct."

"You have no awareness of her-one of your kind isn't masking her?"

"Correct."

"And you know she's not dead?"

"Correct."

Erik's brown eyes were thoughtful. "Then the creature is likely one outside of your scope."

"Why," asked Jerome wearily, "does everyone keep telling me things I already know?" The question could have been directed to Erik, Roman, or the air. The demon took out another cigarette.

"You need to figure out who would take her and why. She has enemies. Nyx was not pleased with the resolution of her last visit."

"Nyx is locked up." Jerome spoke as though he had stated that a hundred times. I was pretty sure he'd been asked all those questions about me a hundred times too.

"Your summoner, Mr. Moriarty, was not overly pleased with her either." Although Erik remained professional, his lips twisted ever so slightly, like he'd tasted something bitter. Regardless of his feelings for the demon, both Erik and Jerome shared a mutual hatred of Dante.

This gave Jerome pause. "I doubt this was human magic, though I suppose he could have had help-he's sought allies before. I'll look into it." He dropped this new cigarette and stepped on it too. "Regardless, I still can't believe I'd have no sense of her in the world."

"Maybe she's not in this world."

Erik's words hung between them for several seconds.

"No," said Jerome at last. "Many have interest in her-but none who would do that."

I saw in Erik's face that the words "Many have interest in her" had caught his notice. He stayed silent, however, and waited for Jerome's next profound statement. Which wasn't that profound.

"Time to go," said the demon, probably so Roman could grab hold again.

Jerome teleported, off to wherever it was he had to go.

And me? I returned to my prison.

Chapter 15.

It was 1942, and I was in France.

I didn't want to be in France. I hadn't wanted to be there for the last fifty years, yet somehow, Bastien kept talking me into staying. There was also the small fact that our supervising archdemon didn't want us to go. He liked the way we worked together. Incubus-succubus teams were hit or miss sometimes, but we were exceptional, and our superiors had taken note. It was good for our hellish careers but not for my morale.

Bastien didn't see what my problem was. "Hell doesn't even need us here," he told me one day, after I'd complained for like the thousandth time. "Think of it as a vacation. Hordes of souls are being damned here every day."

I walked over to the window of our shop and peered out onto the busy road, pressing my hands against the glass. Bicyclists and pedestrians moved past, everyone needing to get somewhere and get there fast. It could have been any ordinary weekday in Paris, but this was no ordinary day. Nothing had been ordinary since the Germans had occupied France, and the scattered soldiers in the street stood out to me like candles in the night.

Bad simile, I thought. Candles implied some kind of hope or light. And while Paris had fared better than most people realized under Nazi rule, something in the city had changed. The energy, the spirit...whatever you wanted to call it, it had a taint to me. Bastien said I was crazy. Most people were still living their daily lives. The food shortages weren't as bad here as in other places. And after shape-shifting into Aryan nation poster children with blond hair and blue eyes, we were more or less left alone.

Bastien was still going on about my glum mood while he moved about and straightened hat displays in my periphery. He'd chosen millinery as his profession for this identity, one that worked well for meeting well-to-do Parisian women. I played the role of his sister-as I so often did in other scenarios-helping with the store and keeping house for him. It was better than dance halls or brothels, which had been our previous occupations in France.

"What about your friend?" Bastien asked me slyly. "Young Monsieur Luc?"

At the mention of Luc, I paused in my dejected assessment of the world outside the hat shop. If I was going to talk about candles in the night, then Luc was mine. A real one. He was a human I'd met recently, working with his father-a violin maker. Their trade had suffered even more than ours, as the market for luxury items shriveled in these lean times.

But Luc never seemed to let their financial woes affect him. Whenever I saw him, he was always cheerful, always full of hope. The weight of so many centuries of sin and darkness were starting to take their toll on me, and being in Paris only made it worse. Yet, Luc was a wonder to me. Being able to look at the world with such optimism, with such conviction that good would prevail...well, it was a foreign concept. One I was intrigued by. I couldn't stay away from it.

"Luc's different," I admitted, finally turning from the window. "He's not part of this."

Bastien snorted and leaned against the wall. "They're all part of this, Fleur." Fleur was his long-time nickname for me over the years, no matter what identity I assumed. "I don't suppose you've slept with him yet?"

My answer was to turn away again and remain silent. No, I hadn't slept with Luc. I wanted to, though. I wanted to with the instincts of a woman who had fallen for a man, as well as the craving of a succubus to consume the energy and taste the soul of someone so good. I had never hesitated before. This was the kind of thing I'd always sought out. It was even my job. But something inside of me was changing. Maybe it was these bleak times, but whenever I looked at Luc and saw that purity radiating from him-and his growing love and trust in me-I just couldn't do it.

"He's coming by tonight," I said at last, dodging the question. "We're going for a walk."

"Oh," said Bastien. "I see. A walk. That's certain to impress Theodosia." Theodosia was our archdemoness.

I turned back around sharply, glaring at Bastien. "It's none of your business what I do!" I exclaimed. "Besides, if this is the 'vacation' you claim it is, I shouldn't need to secure a good soul."

"Souls are falling left and right around here," he agreed. "But you've still got to turn one in every once in a while. You can't spend the rest of your existence only going after bad ones."

I didn't speak to him for the rest of the day, and fortunately, business picked up quite a bit in the afternoon. It kept us both busy, though I counted down the minutes until Luc showed up that evening. He gave polite greetings to my "brother," and then I hustled us out of there so that I wouldn't have to see the knowing look in Bastien's eyes.

Luc could have passed for my brother too with his sunny golden hair. He always smiled when he looked at me, making small crinkle lines around the blue eyes I fancifully likened to sapphires. He held my arm as we passed through the evening crowd, filled with those going home after work or possibly seeking nighttime entertainment. He told me I looked beautiful, and we talked of other inconsequential things: the weather, neighborhood gossip, day-to-day affairs...

We ended up at a small city park that was a popular spot for others seeking evening strolls before curfew. We found a relatively secluded area among some trees and settled onto the grass. Luc had been carrying a small basket the entire time and revealed its contents: pastries and a bottle of wine. He didn't have extra money to throw around for that kind of thing, but I knew better than to protest. It was already done. Whatever else he'd had to sacrifice in return would be well worth it, as far as he was concerned.

He had another surprise for me as well: a book. He and I were always trading novels back and forth, and as I lay down against the grass, skimming through the pages, a strange yet warm peace blossomed within me.

"Next time you should bring your violin," I said, setting the book down. "I want to hear you play again."