I shivered, unsure as to what this meant. Doug walked in.
"You get everything straightened out?"
"Yeah. Thanks." We stood there uncomfortably for a moment until I finally unlocked the floodgates of my guilt. "Doug, I-"
"Forget it, Kincaid. It's nothing."
"What I said, I shouldn't have. I was - "
"Wasted. Trashed. Flat on your ass drunk. It happens."
"Still, I had no right. You were trying to be nice, and I turned complete psycho bitch on you."
"You weren't that psycho."
"But definitely a bitch?"
"Well..." He hid a smile, not meeting my eyes.
"I'm sorry, Doug. I'm really sorry."
"Quit it. I can't take much more of this sentimentality."
I leaned over and squeezed his arm, resting my head slightly on his shoulder. "You're a good guy, Doug. A really good guy. And a good friend. And I'm sorry... sorry for a lot of things that have - or haven't - happened between us."
"Hey, forget about it. It's nothing between friends, Kin- caid." A pregnant pause hung between us; he was still clearly uncomfortable with this exchange. "Did... did everything turn out all right? I lost track of you after the show. That outfit you have on doesn't reassure me any."
"You'll never believe whose shirt this is," I teased, subsequently telling him the whole tale of getting sick with Seth and the follow-up birthday party.
Doug was pushing hysterics by the time I finished, albeit in a relieved sort of way. "Mortensen's a good guy," he finally said, still laughing.
"He says the same thing about you."
Doug grinned. "You know he's - oh, man. I forgot, what with all those phone calls." Turning to the desk, he sifted through papers and books, finally producing a small white envelope. "You got a note. Paige said she found it last night. I hope it's good news."
"Yeah, me too."
But I had my doubts when I saw it. I took it gingerly, like something that might burn me. The paper and calligraphy were identical to the last one's. Opening up the envelope, I read:
So you're interested in fallen angels, are you? Well, there'll be a hands-on demonstration tonight. It should prove more informative than your current endeavors and won't require you screwing your boss in order to get help with extrapolation - not that watching you make a whore of yourself didn't have its moments.
I looked up, meeting Doug's curious eyes. "No worries," I told him lightly, folding the note up and placing it in my purse. "This is old news."
Hugh's report implied Lucinda had been killed last night, and this note had been slipped to me beforehand, according to Doug. The warning had gone unheeded. This person apparently didn't have a good grasp of my schedule, or they hadn't wanted me to actually act beforehand. It was more like a scare tactic.
Whatever their point in giving me a heads-up on Lucinda, it was nothing compared to the other reference in the note. The thought that someone had watched me have sex with Warren made my skin crawl.
"Where are you off to now?" Doug asked.
"Believe it or not, I need to find a book."
"You're in the right place."
We went back out to the information desk, where Tammi stood. It pleased me to see Doug training her in this post; we'd need people available for all jobs when the holidays came.
"Practice time," I told her. "Tell me where we keep this book."
I gave her the name, and she looked it up in the computer, frowning at the results. "We don't. We can order it for you."
I scowled, suddenly understanding why people seemed so pissed off when I told them that. "Great," I muttered. "Where am I going to get it tonight?" Erik probably stocked it, but he'd be closed by now.
"I hate to recommend this," joked Doug, "but a library might have it."
"Maybe..." I eyed a clock, unsure how late the local branches stayed open.
"Um, Georgina?" began Tammi carefully. "I know a place that has it. And that's still open."
I turned to her in surprise. "Really? Where - no. No. Not there."
"I'm sorry." Her blue eyes pleaded with me to forgive her for such tidings. "But there were three copies in stock the last time I was there. They couldn't have sold out."
I groaned, rubbing my temples. "I can't go in there. Doug, you want to run an errand for me?"
"I've got to close," he admonished. "What place are you avoiding?"
" Krystal Starz, home of 'freaky witch woman.' "
"You couldn't pay me to go there."
"You could pay me," noted Tammi, "but I'm closing too. If it makes it any easier, she's not there all the time."
"Yeah," added Doug helpfully. "No manager is always on-duty. She must have other staff to cover her."
"Unless they're short-staffed," I muttered. The irony.
I left the store and got into my car for the journey to Krystal Starz. As I drove, I reflected on the two pieces of information I'd gleaned today.
First, the nephilim reference. The King James translation had mentioned angelic offspring, even mentioned them as being abnormal, but I had never considered the possibilities half-angel children might present. The annotation in Terry and Andrea's translation had elaborated only slightly more on such creatures, but it had been enough to spring a lock in my head. Who better, I thought, to take on both angels and demons than some sort of bastard demigod?
Of course, the whole discovery of the nephilim had come about as a spin-off to the verse Erik had given me about fallen angels. I could be running away with a blind lead here when really the culprit was just a regular immortal, albeit an unstable one, slaying members of both sides. After all, I still hadn't ruled Carter out of the realm of suspects, nor had I figured out why said killer would finish the job with Duane and Lucinda but let Hugh live.
My other piece of data today, the new note, offered little I hadn't already known. I'd simply found it too late for it to be of preemptive use. And if some voyeur was following me around, there was nothing I could do about that either.
Yet, it led to the obvious question: Why was this person following me around? Evidence suggested I was the only one receiving such attention, the only one receiving notes. And again, there was the niggling truth: Everyone I'd fought with had later become a victim...
When I had almost reached Krystal Starz, I pulled off onto a deserted street. Unbeknownst to Tammi and Doug, I already had a simple solution for facing Helena. Stripping out of the dress and Seth's shirt, lest they be consumed, I shape-shifted, taking on the guise of a tall, willowy Thai woman in a linen dress. I sometimes used this body to hunt in.
The New Age bookstore was quiet when I entered, with only a couple of browsing customers. I saw the same boyish acolyte from before manning the register, and blessing upon blessing, I couldn't see Helena anywhere. Even disguised, I still had no desire to run into that nutcase.
Smiling at the young man behind the counter, I approached and asked where I could find the book. Grinning back like an idiot - this was a very attractive form, after all - he led me to a certain section in their cryptic cataloging system, immediately finding the book. As Tammi had said, the store stocked three copies.
We returned to the register to cash out, and I sighed in relief, thinking I was going to make it out of here unscathed. No such luck. The back door leading to the conference room opened, and Helena glided out as though conjured, clad in a flowing fuchsia gown, laden with her usual ten pounds of necklaces. Damn it. It was like the woman really did have a sixth sense or something.
"Things are well, Roger?" she asked the clerk, using her raspy show voice.
"Yes, yes." He bobbed his head eagerly, apparently thrilled that she'd call him by first name.
Turning to me, she gave me one of her diva smiles. "Hello, my dear. How are you this evening?"
Remembering that this persona had no grudge with her, I forced a smile and answered politely, "Good, thank you."
"I imagine so," she told me gravely as I handed cash to the boy, "because I sense excellent things about your aura."
I widened my eyes in what I hoped was a laywoman's awe. "Really?"
She nodded, pleased at an appreciative audience. "Very bright. Very strong. Lots of color. You have good things in store for you." This message was a far cry from the one she'd given me at Emerald City, I thought. Seeing my book, she eyed me sharply, probably because it was dense and filled with research, as opposed to most of the fluff she sold. "I'm surprised. I would have expected you to be reading up on how to focus your gifts more. Maximize your full potential. I have several titles I can recommend if you're interested."