a cuneiform keyboard.
Part of the problem is that since Pride is the greatest sin, most of us minions excel at it. Which means that there are a lot of prickly egos out there on MagicMirror, and it’s very easy to rub someone the wrong way unwittingly. Emoticons just don’t replace the smile and the sarcasm that can take the sting from what might appear to be a personal affront.
Really, it’s not so different from a human business office, except that you can’t quit and everyone has a memory that goes for millennia. And even among the immortals, there are always a few who don’t twig to that and end up making everything much more uncomfortable for the rest of us.
Then I remembered that I hadn’t bothered with the Ben and Jerry’s and I craved at least a taste. After that I had to get dressed to go out and hunt.
I may have the pheromones from Hell, quite literally, but I still dress the part. I don’t have to, really, though the more skin I show the more my succubus scent permeates the area. If I wanted to damp it down I could wear layers of clothing that covered me from head to toe, but Satan doesn’t approve. This is my mission for Her, and while She’s the greatest big sis in the world, I do have a contract with Her.
So I tried on four different outfits, all of them a little short, and finally settled on a silk Prada slipdress that was cream-colored but had a subtle pattern in a metallic purple that hinted of copper in the right light. I had a bag in the same metallic purple that I threw on the bed to make sure I didn’t forget it, and was hesitating between copper sandals and dusky purple stilettos when the intercom rang.
chapter
SIX
I buzzed. “A Nathan Coleman to see you,” Vincent informed me from the lobby.
Oh, damn, not now, I thought. The mojo was on. He would fling himself at me and protest and say he was in love, or at least overwhelmingly in lust.
I could, of course, just take him. That would be the easiest thing. I wouldn’t have to go out and I wouldn’t have to make a decision about the shoes. And no one would know but Vincent.
But unlike some guy in a bar who couldn’t be traced to me at all, this Nathan Coleman had come looking for me. More than once. He must have made notes somewhere. Maybe he had told someone.
Maybe I was being paranoid.
No matter. It paid to be paranoid. Remaining untraceable was getting harder all the time, and I needed the cooperation of Hell and the support of Satan’s power to do it. Someone who had been trying to track me down and had my address (almost definitely written down somewhere where a hunky detective like Desi’s new Steve could find it with his eyes closed) was not prime succubus bait. Not when he had come directly here. Not when someone might know where he was.
“I’m going out,” I said into the intercom.
“Too late,” Vincent said. “You said send him up, so I did. Do you want me to get him and bring him back down?”
“I may need help to get him out of here,” I admitted. “I’ve got my mojo on.”
“Wow,” Vince said with admiration. “Maybe I should come up just in case.”
“I’ll call if I need you,” I said and cut off the intercom.
Actually, knowing that Vincent was ready to come and help me out was a great comfort. But I’ve been a succubus for three thousand years and I’ve learned some tricks of my own. I went back to the bedroom, stuffed my bare feet into oversized fuzzy slippers and threw a heavy, full-length terry cloth robe over my tiny dress that covered me up fairly thoroughly. I tossed a towel over my hair, as if I’d just come from the shower. Hair is especially rich in the succubus scent during my power windows, so covering it up would definitely damp down the attraction.
Okay, it wasn’t perfect. He would still find me unbearably desirable. But I’d be able to get rid of him. And if I couldn’t there was always faithful Vincent waiting down in the lobby to play the White Knight of Hell.
The
Part of the problem is that since Pride is the greatest sin, most of us minions excel at it. Which means that there are a lot of prickly egos out there on MagicMirror, and it’s very easy to rub someone the wrong way unwittingly. Emoticons just don’t replace the smile and the sarcasm that can take the sting from what might appear to be a personal affront.
Really, it’s not so different from a human business office, except that you can’t quit and everyone has a memory that goes for millennia. And even among the immortals, there are always a few who don’t twig to that and end up making everything much more uncomfortable for the rest of us.
Then I remembered that I hadn’t bothered with the Ben and Jerry’s and I craved at least a taste. After that I had to get dressed to go out and hunt.
I may have the pheromones from Hell, quite literally, but I still dress the part. I don’t have to, really, though the more skin I show the more my succubus scent permeates the area. If I wanted to damp it down I could wear layers of clothing that covered me from head to toe, but Satan doesn’t approve. This is my mission for Her, and while She’s the greatest big sis in the world, I do have a contract with Her.
So I tried on four different outfits, all of them a little short, and finally settled on a silk Prada slipdress that was cream-colored but had a subtle pattern in a metallic purple that hinted of copper in the right light. I had a bag in the same metallic purple that I threw on the bed to make sure I didn’t forget it, and was hesitating between copper sandals and dusky purple stilettos when the intercom rang.
chapter
SIX
I buzzed. “A Nathan Coleman to see you,” Vincent informed me from the lobby.
Oh, damn, not now, I thought. The mojo was on. He would fling himself at me and protest and say he was in love, or at least overwhelmingly in lust.
I could, of course, just take him. That would be the easiest thing. I wouldn’t have to go out and I wouldn’t have to make a decision about the shoes. And no one would know but Vincent.
But unlike some guy in a bar who couldn’t be traced to me at all, this Nathan Coleman had come looking for me. More than once. He must have made notes somewhere. Maybe he had told someone.
Maybe I was being paranoid.
No matter. It paid to be paranoid. Remaining untraceable was getting harder all the time, and I needed the cooperation of Hell and the support of Satan’s power to do it. Someone who had been trying to track me down and had my address (almost definitely written down somewhere where a hunky detective like Desi’s new Steve could find it with his eyes closed) was not prime succubus bait. Not when he had come directly here. Not when someone might know where he was.
“I’m going out,” I said into the intercom.
“Too late,” Vincent said. “You said send him up, so I did. Do you want me to get him and bring him back down?”
“I may need help to get him out of here,” I admitted. “I’ve got my mojo on.”
“Wow,” Vince said with admiration. “Maybe I should come up just in case.”
“I’ll call if I need you,” I said and cut off the intercom.
Actually, knowing that Vincent was ready to come and help me out was a great comfort. But I’ve been a succubus for three thousand years and I’ve learned some tricks of my own. I went back to the bedroom, stuffed my bare feet into oversized fuzzy slippers and threw a heavy, full-length terry cloth robe over my tiny dress that covered me up fairly thoroughly. I tossed a towel over my hair, as if I’d just come from the shower. Hair is especially rich in the succubus scent during my power windows, so covering it up would definitely damp down the attraction.
Okay, it wasn’t perfect. He would still find me unbearably desirable. But I’d be able to get rid of him. And if I couldn’t there was always faithful Vincent waiting down in the lobby to play the White Knight of Hell.
The
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