Chapter Seven
The third day of the trial brought out the last suspect, a demoness named Starla. She was a tiny little thing, all doe eyes and long golden hair. She was also a new demon, one who must have recently fallen. She had apparently been a lesser-ranking angel in her pre-Hell days because she was relatively weak now as far as power went. So weak, in fact, that there was absolutely no way she could have blown Anthony away.
However, as the questioning went on, it became clear she might have blown him in another way.
“You had a romantic relationship with Anthony?” Margo asked. She said “relationship”
like it was dirty word. She probably hadn’t had sex in centuries, and honestly, if there was anyone I’d ever met who needed to get laid, it was her.
Starla was fragile looking, but she was a demon, weak or no. And even a weak demon was still a force to be reckoned with, particularly for an annoying lesser immortal like Margo.
“Yes,” said Starla, her voice calm.
“So why’d you do it then? Jealousy? Lovers’ quarrel?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“It’s always the ones who are closest to the victim,” continued Margo, glancing at us jurors. “This shouldn’t be a surprise.”
“I didn’t do it,” growled Starla.
“Were you afraid of losing him maybe? Sort of a ‘If I can’t have him, no one can’ thing?”
“I didn’t do it,” the demoness repeated. “I couldn’t have done it. You know that.”
“You could have easily gotten someone else to,” retorted Margo. “And while we’d like to find and chastise that person too, there’s no doubt that you’re the mastermind.”
“Except that I’m not.”
Margo brought out her idiotic clipboard again. “I understand that Noelle told you two to end your…relationship. She thought it was interfering with your work.”
A flash of anger gleamed in Starla’s eyes as she glanced briefly at her archdemoness. “It wasn’t.”
The imp shrugged. “So you say. But again, that would certainly lend credence to the ‘If I can’t have him…’ theory, hmm? Someone like Anthony wouldn’t have stayed lonely for long…there were certainly other ports he could have docked his ship in. But you? Who are you?
Some minor, struggling little antisocial demon…so fresh from angelhood that you might as well still be wearing a halo. Not really worth anyone’s attention unless it was someone who wanted to break you in. Anthony was your first, wasn’t he?”
“That doesn’t matter,” said Starla tightly.
But apparently it did because it brought my fellow jurors to life. They showered her with questions, digging out as many personal details as they could. I could see Luis’s ire growing, but it was Noelle who cut things off.
“We don’t need to hear any more personal details,” she snapped, sweeping the jury with those turquoise eyes. They radiated fury.
“I agree,” said Luis. “If you guys can’t ask anything useful, then don’t say anything.”
Unsurprisingly, the other jurors fell silent. I raised my hand. Starla regarded me warily.
“Did…do you have other friends? Aside from Anthony?”
She looked surprised by the question. “I have colleagues.”
“Any that you’re close to?”
“No.”
Margo grinned broadly. “More proof as to why you’d have such a psychotic reaction to being separated from Anthony.”
Starla glared at me as though I’d purposely just set her up. But I hadn’t. Margo had called Starla antisocial earlier, and Starla herself admitted to having no close friends or colleagues. She could be lying, I supposed, but I didn’t think so. The friendless thing only made her look more desperate; she wouldn’t have purposely furthered that image by admitting to it. And if she was friendless, then I wondered who she could have gotten to kill Anthony. It was possible she could have made a business arrangement with someone. Maybe she had something to offer, but I doubted it.
Nonetheless, she found me afterward, just like Clyde and Anthony had.
“Wealth,” she told me, standing with me in the hall by my room. “Money.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s generally the definition of wealth.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m offering you a great thing here. I mean, not like piles of gold or anything, but we’re talking serious cash. Investments. Accounts in the Caymans. Stuff like that.”
I shrugged. “I don’t believe in bribes. And even if I did, I don’t need the money. I’ve got my own stockpile. Besides, not like I couldn’t find someone to give it to me if I wanted.” It was exactly what Clyde had said.
I waited then for anger, for snippiness. What I didn’t expect, however, was for her to suddenly start crying. I’d seen demons do a lot of things over the centuries. Torture. Destruction. Betrayal. Never, ever had I seen a demon cry. I didn’t even know they could do it.
I started to reach for her in some sort of awkward attempt at comfort but thought better of it.
“Look,” I said uneasily. “I’m sure there are other jurors who’ll take the bribe.”
She sniffed and shook her head, running a hand over her wet eyes. “No. Not from me. I don’t have anything to give—not like Clyde and Kurtis. Everyone on the jury’s stronger than me. There’s nothing I can offer that they can’t already get themselves.”
“Well…I mean, I don’t know. I guess you just have to wait for justice to run its course.”
A harsh laugh cut off one of her sobs. “Justice? Here? There’s no justice with this group. Even you can’t be that naive.”
I didn’t answer. I knew she was right.
Starla exhaled heavily and leaned against the wall, tipping her head back. “For all I know, Noelle’s giving bribes out for them to vote for me.”
“Noelle wants to punish the person who did it,” I pointed out.
“They’re never going to find that out. There’s both enough and not enough evidence on all three of us. No clear decision. In that case, she’s going to just take it out on me. She hates me. Hates that Anthony…” She trailed off, and I was pretty sure she’d been on the verge of saying
“love.” Something else I didn’t expect from a demon. “…that Anthony and I were involved. When she told him to end our relationship, he argued against it. He wanted a transfer, and she was going to try to block it; that’s why he was so angry the day Clyde saw him. You can’t imagine how jealous that made her—that Anthony would stand up for me. So, if she can’t figure out who did it, she’ll settle for seeing me punished. She’ll do it out of spite.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t…” But I wondered. Demons did stuff like that. And I’d seen Noelle’s face when she talked about Anthony. His death had hurt her. When people get hurt, they tend to lash out to make themselves feel better. Torturing a romantic rival was just as good a way as any.
Like Noelle, Starla didn’t need to use any powers to know what I was thinking. “You know,” she told me. “You know she can do it. And you must know what it’s like…being hated by other women.”
A few moments of silence passed, then the demoness took a deep breath. She opened her mouth, swallowed, then said with great effort: “Please.”
I stared. My mind couldn’t handle any more demonic discoveries. “Please” wasn’t in a demon’s vocabulary. I was pretty sure they spontaneously combusted if that word crossed their lips. Maybe that was what had happened to Anthony.
“Please,” she repeated, blue eyes wide. “Please help me with this. Maybe I can’t offer you anything now…but someday I could do you a favor. Please. Just vote for one of the others.”
Her pain made my own chest ache. “I want to…but I have to make sure…make sure I’m making the right choice…”
“It wasn’t me,” she said, eyes locked on mine. “I don’t care what idiocy Margo was babbling about. That ‘If I can’t have him…’ line is absurd. I l-loved Anthony. Why would I hurt him?”
I wanted to believe her. I wanted to believe in love and all the noble ideals it entailed. I shook my head.
“People do stupid things for love. Especially if they’re afraid of losing the ones they love.”
Starla stared at me for several more seconds, sighed, and then vanished.
Seth showed up later that evening, looking rather pleased with himself. I was lying on the bed, watching a reality dating show. The conversation with Starla had left me introspective.
“You get a lot of work done?” I asked.
“Tons.”
He set the laptop on the desk and lay down beside me. His hand found mine, and he squeezed it contentedly.
We watched those poor, pathetic souls on TV for a while, but soon, I couldn’t take it anymore. With great effort, I kept my voice as level as possible.
“Where’d you work today?”
Seth’s eyes were on the screen where some girl ranted about how her boyfriend had slept with her mother. Most of her tirade was bleeped out.
“Hmm?” he asked. A moment later, he processed the question. “That diner again.”
The fucking diner. Fantastic.
“Ah,” I said. “You must like that place.”
“They have good pumpkin pie.”
And good company, I thought. Beth’s cute face and jaunty ponytail flashed into my head. It was stupid. I had nothing to be insecure about. She was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Seth wasn’t going to run off with her. Even if he did want to do something physical with her, it’d be nothing. Cheap, meaningless sex.
Suddenly, it was as though Kurtis was leaning over me with his laughing face.
It would kill you if he slept with someone else.
Gritting my teeth, I reached for the remote and turned the TV off. Seth glanced over at me in surprise. Shifting onto my knees, I crawled over and straddled him.
“What’s this?” he asked, amusement in his voice.
“I’m tired of watching other people’s love lives.”
I pulled my shirt off over my head and tossed my hair back. Seth, still with a half-smile, watched me. His eyes drifted down to where a black velvet bra held my breasts. A cute little gold clasp unfastened in the front. I had better breasts than that whore waitress, of that I was certain. Better shape, better size. Grabbing his hands, I slowly slid them up my stomach, careful to avoid the breasts themselves. It was always a delicate balance, this pseudo-making out. Too much, and we’d be courting danger.
My skin tingled as those fingertips slid across it. I brought his hands to the clasp, and he deftly unfastened it. Carefully, he peeled it away, and I wriggled it off my arms. His hands immediately withdrew, staying clear. Balance, balance. Always balance.
I slid off of him. Standing by the bed, I slowly and deliberately pushed my skirt down my legs. I wasn’t wearing any stockings today, only a matching black velvet thong. It was my own creation. I’d searched high and low for one for a while. No luck, so I’d used my own resources. Shape-shifting was like a never-ending shopping trip.
My suitcase sat near the bed, and I rummaged through it, bending over as I did to give him a full view of my ass. Seth, I had long since discovered, wasn’t a breast man or an ass man or anything like that. He was non-discriminatory. He appreciated it all.
Soon, I found what I wanted: a bottle of rosemary-scented oil that I’d brought along. Turning back to him, I poured some of the liquid on my hands, rubbing them until they were slick and shiny. I set the bottle down and brought my hands to my breasts, stroking them at an agonizingly slow pace—not unlike how Clyde had spread the life energy onto me. The memory made me shiver. The spicy scent of rosemary drifted around me as I leisurely rubbed the oil into my skin. My breasts took on the wet, gleaming look my hands had.
After several lifetimes of countless lovers, it always surprised me that I could turn myself on by doing this to myself. I think, however, it had less to do with my own skill and more with the act of being with Seth.
He still looked mildly amused, hands folded across his stomach as he watched me. I met his gaze full-on, knowing mine was smoky and full of sex. His was alert and interested, though I could read little beyond that.
When my breasts and stomach were finally oiled to my satisfaction, I moved one hand down, slipping it inside the front of the thong. A cry that wasn’t faked left my lips. I was warm and slick between my thighs, hardly in need of any oil. My fingers stroked me slowly, then found their way into me. In and out I moved them, attempting to quench a desire for him that would never really be adequately fulfilled. My moans came soft and low as I got myself off, my mind ablaze with images of Seth’s body moving against mine.
I didn’t realize my eyes were closed until I had to open them. Still touching myself, I regarded him curiously.
“How do you want me to finish it?” I asked in a breathy voice. “Keep standing? Lay down?”
His eyes traveled down, watching my skilled hand. Sometimes he would touch himself when I did this; sometimes he’d wait until afterward. Since his hands were still folded, I assumed it would be the latter.
“Actually…” he began, hesitation in his words. The half-smile was gone. “There’s, um, no need.”
My hand froze, oblivious to the rest of my body’s outrage.
“I…what?”
Sheepishly, he shrugged. “I mean, you’re beautiful. Like always. Sexy. Really sexy. But, well…I’m not really into it tonight.”
I stared, unable to speak. What kind of guy isn’t into a succubus masturbating in front of him?
“You can finish for yourself, though, if you want,” he added hastily, helpfully.
My brain started working again, and I pulled my hand out. “No…” I said slowly. “It’s fine.”
I shape-shifted away the velvet and oil. Jeans and a T-shirt took their place. Returning to the bed, I settled down beside Seth. This time, we didn’t touch.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I’m kind of…tired.”
“It’s fine,” I repeated. I reached for the remote and turned the TV on again.
Neither of us brought the matter up again, but I was reeling. I’d just been rejected. This had never happened with us before. And what was up with the tired line? That was the lamest excuse in the book.
Beth, I thought. It had to be that goddamned waitress. But how, exactly? Had he fucked her in the diner’s bathroom? I found that unlikely. Too unsanitary. Maybe she was just on his mind. Maybe that working girl image was what turned him on now, so much so that my seductive attempts were about as effective as a cold shower.
No, I thought. There was nothing wrong with me. I had no reason to feel insecure, not when it came to stuff like this. No way was he not attracted to me.
Seth turned his head to look at me. I must have had a troubled look on my face. He lightly brushed my cheek.
“I’m tired, Thetis. Really.”
“It’s fine,” I said.