Succubus Blues (Georgina Kincaid 1)

I smoothed down my tank top. "No way. I'd never wear this in a locker room."

"Yeah, it isn't even in school colors," said Peter.

I couldn't resist toying with the guardian. "If I were in a locker room, I'd probably have on a short cheerleader skirt. And no underwear."

Peter continued playing off me. "And you'd do that one cheer, right? The one with your hands splayed against the shower wall and ass sticking out?"

"That's me," I agreed. "Always ready to take one for the team."

Even Cody flushed at our crassness. Lucinda was practically purple.

"You - you two have no sense of decency! None at all."

"Oh whatever," I told her. "Back at the country club, or wherever you and the rest of the choir hang out, you probably wear a shorter version of that skirt all the time. With knee socks. I bet the other angels really go for the schoolgirl look."

If Lucinda were any one of my friends, a comment like that would have only escalated into more sarcasm and snide remarks. The guardian, however, merely stiffened and chose to rely on deadpan self-righteousness.

"We," she declared, "do not carry on in such an unseemly manner with each other. We act with decorum. We treat each other with respect. We do not turn on each other."

This last one came with a brief eye-glance toward me.

"What was that for?"

She tossed her hair, what little of it there was. "Oh, I think you know. We've all been hearing about your little vigilante act. First that vampire, then the imp. Nothing about you people surprises me anymore."

Now my face flushed. "That's bullshit! I was cleared of Duane a long time ago. And Hugh... that's just stupid. He's my friend."

"What does friendship mean among your kind? He's just as bad. From what I heard, he received a great deal of amusement telling anyone who would listen about your little whip and wings getup. Oh, and by the way, if you don't mind my observation, I think that has to be the most degrading thing I've ever heard. Even for a succubus." She arched a glance toward the book I had tossed to the counter. "I'll tell Mr. Carter you, uh, received the book."

With that, she turned neatly and left, closing the door behind her.

"Sanctimonious bitch," I muttered. "And how many people know about that demon girl thing anyway?"

"Forget her," said Peter. "She's a nobody. And an angel. There's no telling what they'll do."

I scowled. And then, it hit me. I couldn't believe I'd never thought of it before. Maybe Lucinda needed more credit.

"That's it!"

"What's it?" mumbled Cody through a mouthful of nearly cold pizza.

"An angel killed Duane and attacked Hugh! It's perfect. You were right in saying a demon would have no reason to take our side out. But an angel? Why not? I mean a real one, not a guardian like Lucinda."

Peter shook his head. "An angel could do something like that, but it'd be too petty. The great cosmic good-versus-evil battle is bigger than one-on-one matches. You know that. Taking out one agent of evil at a time would be a waste of resources."

Cody considered. "What if it was a renegade angel? Someone not following the rules of the game."

Peter and I both turned to the younger vampire in surprise. He'd been more or less avoiding our speculation this evening.

"There's no such thing," his mentor countered back. "Is there, Georgina?"

I felt both vampires' eyes turn to me, waiting for my opinion. "Jerome says there are no bad angels. Once they're bad, they become demons, not angels anymore."

"Well, that kills your theory then. An angel doing something bad would fall and not be an angel anymore. Then Jerome would know about him."

I frowned, still intrigued by Cody's use of the word "renegade" over "fallen." "Maybe angel sin is like human sin... it's not always 'bad' if the person thinks they're doing 'good.' This one hasn't gone over yet."

We all pondered this a moment. Humans continually labor under the delusion that there really is a precise set of rules on what sin is and is not, rules that one might break without even realizing it. In reality, most people know when they do wrong. They feel it. Sin is more of a subjective matter than an objective one. Back in the days of the Puritans, corrupting souls had been no problem for a succubus since almost anything sexual and pleasurable felt wrong to those men. Nowadays, most people don't regard premarital sex as wrong, hence no sin is committed. Succubi have been forced to become more creative over the years if they want to get an energy fix and corrupt a soul.

Still, by that logic, it was possible that a renegade angel who believed he or she was doing good might not cross into the realm of sin. If there was no sin, then there could be no fall. Or could there be? The whole concept strained the mind, and Peter apparently thought so too.

"So what's the difference? What makes an angel fall? We're staking a lot here on a technicality."

I could have concurred until I recalled something else. "The note."

"Note?" asked Cody.

"The note that was on my door. It said I was beautiful enough to tempt angels into falling."

"Well, you do look pretty good." When I raised an eyebrow, Peter said grudgingly, "Okay, that is kind of suspicious... but it's almost too suspicious. Why would someone overtly leave a calling card?"

Cody nearly jumped out of his seat. "It's some kind of psycho angel who likes playing mind games. Like in those movies where killers carve clues into their victims, so they can watch the police puzzle things out."

I shuddered at that image as I thought over what I knew about angels in general, which really was nothing. Unlike our side, the powers of good did not have the same cryptic hierarchy of supervisors and geographical networks, no matter the stories about cherubim and seraphim. After all, we were the ones who had invented middle management, not them. I always had the impression that most angels and denizens of good operated like private investigators or field agents, completing assorted angelic missions in a very loosely organized way. Such an open venue would provide ample chance for someone to surreptitiously tackle a side agenda.

Angelic involvement would also explain the subterfuge, I reflected. Their side was embarrassed. Typical, really. Little embarrassed our side anymore. They, however, would be shamefaced to admit one of theirs had turned rogue, and Carter, being so chummy with Jerome, had conned the demon into keeping quiet about the whole matter. All of his sarcasm and attempts to mock me were only more weak efforts at saving face.

The more I considered this far-fetched theory, the more I liked it. Some disgruntled angel, wanting to be heroic, decided to turn vigilante and take on the forces of evil. The renegade angel theory would explain how any of us could be legitimate targets, as well as shed light on why no one could sense this being since we now knew higher immortals could hide their presence.

Which made me wonder why exactly Jerome and Carter were also masking their presence. Were they hoping to catch this angel unaware? That, and...

"Why'd this person let Hugh live then?" I looked from vampire to vampire. "An angel could take out any of us. Hugh said he wasn't winning, and no one interrupted. The attacker just got bored and took off. Why? Why kill Duane but not Hugh? Or me, for that matter, since this person knows what I am."

"Because Duane was an ass**le?" suggested Peter.

"Personality aside, we all weigh in just as heavily on the evil side. Hugh maybe even more so."

Indeed, Hugh was in his prime as far as immortals went. He no longer held a novice's inexperience like Cody, nor had the imp grown world-weary and bored like Peter and I had. Hugh knew enough now to be good at his job, and he actually liked what he did. He should have been a prime target for any angelic vigilante wanting to make the world a better place.

Cody agreed with Peter. "Yeah. Evil or not, some of us are more likable than others. Maybe an angel could respect that."

"I doubt an angel would find any of us likable - "

I cut myself off. One angel did like us. One angel hung out with us a lot. One angel who seemed to be everywhere Jerome was lately when these attacks happened. One angel who knew us personally, who knew all of our habits and weaknesses. What better way was there to track and study us than to infiltrate our drinking group and pretend to be a friend?

The idea was so explosive, so dangerous, I felt ill at ease just giving shape to the thought. I certainly couldn't utter any of it aloud. Not yet. Cody and Peter hardly believed the angel theory at all. I doubted they'd jump on board if I started accusing Carter.