"You'll never believe me."

"Try me."

So I lifted my face up to meet his gaze, and before I could stop myself, I said, "I wasn't just a wh.o.r.e. I was a demon."

After a minute of strained silence, Paul said, "You must have had to do some bad things in your time."

"You have no idea."

"No matter how bad it was, that didn't make you a bad person."

"I wasn't bad, Paul. I was Evil."

"Stop that. You're not evil."

"Not anymore." I took a deep breath. "For more than four thousand years, I'd been a succubus."

"A..." He closed his mouth, looked at me. I couldn't read the expression on his face; it was like he'd flipped a switch.

"A succubus. A demon of l.u.s.t." Shivering, I hugged my elbows. "I didn't sleep with men to take their money. I took their souls, claimed them for h.e.l.l."

Paul said nothing. Very, very loudly.

I kept talking, partially to fill the silence-and partially because it felt like I could finally breathe again. "And I'd liked it. I mean, okay, it's not like I was exactly trained to do anything else. But I loved having s.e.x. And every time, it was something different. A new lover to seduce, a new costume for me to dress in, a new challenge. But then He made the Announcement, and everything changed."

Paul watched me as if he thought I might leap in front of a Mack truck.

Even in the throes of my catharsis, I couldn't tell him what King Lucifer had said... and how that had set everything in motion. So I slapped ahead. "Suddenly, I wasn't a succubus any longer. Now I was a Nightmare. After loving men for thousands of years, now I had to terrify them." I cast him a long glance. "I know about the dream you had before I met you. I know you saw Tracy come to you and love you. I know you saw her die."

Color drained out of his face, but whether that was from me mentioning his dead fiancee or from admitting that I'd been the cause of that nightmare, I couldn't tell.

"I couldn't do it," I said. "I couldn't dedicate my existence to scaring mortals. There was no purpose to it. No fulfillment. No... nothing. So I ran away. And h.e.l.l came after me. In Salem, a witch turned me into a human, and I got to South Station. There I grabbed a train to New York City."

Still saying nothing, Paul regarded me, his eyes blank.

"And then I met you."

I stopped talking. Wind blew around us, took my words and scattered them while I awaited judgment.

Paul said, "So you're a succubus."

Why was his voice so flat? "Used to be."

"And your family. That would make them what, succubuses?"

The pause between us grew before I said, "Succubi. Some of them."

"Some," he repeated. "What about your sister? She a succubus too?"

I stared at him, wondering if I'd misheard. "My... what?"

"Your sister." He watched me, gauging my reaction. "I mean, if you're a demon, wouldn't that make her a demon too?"

Something lodged in my throat. Swallowing thickly, I said, "I don't have a sister. Not in the flesh and blood sense."

"No?" He took a deep breath, shook his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pressed you. You're not ready to talk about your past. Come on, let's go upstairs, get out of the cold."

"Hang on a second," I said, my voice rising. "I don't have a sister."

"Okay."

"I don't!"

His eyes narrowed. "Then who was the dead ringer for you at your bedside when you were in the hospital?"

My head spinning, I said, "Hospital... ?"

He looked at me, long and hard.

Okay, so this is what it felt like to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. "When was I in the hospital?"

Paul's eyes softened, stormy green muting to quiet seas. His voice so very tender, he said, "You don't remember?"

Afraid to speak, I shook my head.

"After everything that happened at Belles, you collapsed. I brought you to the hospital, and they ran tests. Exhaustion and malnutrition. You were there for a few days before they let you go."

"No," I said, memories winking on and off-now a gunshot echoing in my ears, now my blood splashing against Paul's face like spring rain-"that's wrong. I didn't collapse. I'd been shot. Here." I touched my heart.

"You weren't shot."

I felt my eyes widen, heard my words tumble out of my mouth: "I remember flying backward, hitting the ground-"

"Jess," Paul said, so very patiently, "if you'd been shot in the chest, you wouldn't be standing here now."

"But..."

Something sears through me, blindingly hot.

"If you'd been shot in the chest," he said again, "wouldn't you at least have a scar?"

"No," I whispered, "this isn't right."

Meg lowers her sword and approaches me. I stand my ground, although my legs feel like rubber. Wondering if oblivion hurts, I close my eyes and wait.

The softest brush of lips on my own. Then nothing.

"Jess..."

"This isn't right!" I screamed, my hands balled into fists. "I was a demon, I ran away, I became a mortal, I got shot, almost died! That happened!"

For a long moment, the whine of the November wind filled the gap between us. Then Paul spoke, and I felt my world begin to crumble. "Your sister said when you're under a lot of stress, sometimes your imagination runs a little wild." He smiled, but his eyed remained guarded. "I guess this qualifies. I'm sorry, hon. You weren't ready for this."

From the bottom of my soul, I shouted, "I don't have a sister!"

"I met her, Jess. You don't have to pretend anymore." He took my hand, kissed it. "Maybe you're twins, but you're still the pretty one."

Twins?

Understanding hit me like a freight train.

Caitlin.

"Bless me," I whispered, trying to remember my hospital stay and drawing only a blank, "what did Caitlin do?"

"Nothing," Paul said. "She told me a little about your life, about the tension between the two of you. About how you'd run away a long time ago."

I was losing my mind. "Paul..."

"Look, this is my fault. I shouldn't have mentioned her at all. But a demon, Jess? Come on, you have to admit, that's a little... out there."

"I knew you wouldn't believe me." A tremble danced along my arms, and the skin over my head felt too tight. "I have to go."

"Please don't."

Tearing my hand away, I shouted, "I just opened myself up to you, told you everything! And you think I'm crazy!" Then, lower: "And maybe I am. I don't have a sister. I don't. I never did. And I remember getting shot, I remember King Lucifer giving me a soul..."

"Jesse," Paul said, "Lucifer doesn't give out souls. He's the devil."

"No, He's not," I whispered. "I have to go."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Somewhere. I have to think."

I broke away from him, started walking down the block, away from his apartment-away from him.

"Jesse, wait!" He ran up to me, put something in my hand.

Numbly, I looked down at the cell phone.

"Go do what you have to do. But please, call me, let me know when you're on the way back."

"Why do you care?" My voice was taut, ready to snap. "You think I'm crazy."

"I think you've got issues," he said, touching my cheek. "And I think you're majorly in denial about some important parts of your life. But I love you. And I worry about you. And I want to know when you're coming home to me."

He kissed me-far too tenderly to be pa.s.sionate-and turned to walk back to his apartment.

I watched until he walked inside his building. Then I shoved away the hurt and pain Paul's words had caused me. Enough with the self-pity.

Time to lack a witch's a.s.s.

I flipped open the cell phone and punched in a number I hadn't realized I'd known. Hitting "send," I b.u.mped into a woman walking past me. I snarled at her, registering her red-rimmed eyes a second after I'd turned away.

Fear shot through me like lightning, and blood roared in my ears. Lillith had found me.

But no, it was just a mortal woman, her eyes bloodshot, her nose red-drunk. She glared at me, her brandy-breath strong enough to kill even the meanest of bacteria. Then she staggered away.

I let out a shaky breath. Satan spare me, I was getting paranoid.

Placing the phone to my ear, I heard the connection ring through. As I waited for someone to pick up, I started walking blindly, letting my feet take me to wherever. Other pedestrians avoided me as if I radiated poison. Good. The way I was feeling at the moment, I could have happily shoved them all in front of oncoming traffic.

In my ear, Caitlin Harris's voice: "h.e.l.lo?"

"Heya, sister." I put as much scorn into my voice as humanly possible. It wasn't the murderous timbre the infernal had perfected over the millennia, but it came d.a.m.n close.

A long pause, then: "Hi, Jesse." Maybe it was the connection, but for I moment I thought she sounded... what, relieved? Happy?

No, all I heard was a mocking pity. "Care to tell me what you did to me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play that with me, Caitlin. Tell me what you did."

She had the b.a.l.l.s to actually laugh at me. "Or what? You'll strip forme?"

"Look, you little b.i.t.c.h, I may not be a demon anymore, but I've still got connections. You don't want to f.u.c.k with me."

"Oh, but Jesse, after the lovely f.u.c.kover you gave me, wouldn't it be t.i.t for tat?"

"Funny. You're a regular laugh riot."

"To be honest, I should thank you. That... whatever you did to me, wow, I hadn't had that many o.r.g.a.s.ms in ages. It was almost worth you stealing my credit cards and my money. Oh, right, and my looks."

"I know," I growled around my pounding head, "I wasn't a f.u.c.king girl scout."

"Nice image."

"Bless me, I'd been in dire straits. I was desperate, all right?"

"Let's not forget about that shieldstone. You have any idea how rare those are? You still have that, at least?"

I muttered, "I got mugged."

"Terrific. You might have been a hotshot succubus, but let me tell you, you don't know much about being a human."

"I'm learning quickly," I said. "I'm learning you can't trust anyone, for starters."