I closed my eyes for a second, wishing this was all over. Wishing I was somewhere else. Or someone else. Seth must think I was out of my mind.
"I can't tell you what's wrong, only that something is. You have to leave it at that." Then, hesitantly, I reached out and squeezed his hand, turning my eyes pleadingly toward his. "Please. Stay with me."
He tightened his grip on my hand and took a step forward, face concerned and compassionate. For a moment, I forgot about the nephilim. What did other men matter when Seth looked at me like that? I had the urge to embrace him and feel his arms enclose me.
I almost laughed. Who was I kidding? I didn't need to worry about leading him on. I was the one getting hooked here. I was the one in danger of escalating this relationship. I needed to stop procrastinating on my "clean break" with him.
I hastily broke apart and lowered my eyes. "Thank you."
He offered to drive to West Seattle, freeing me up to keep calling colleges. I had nearly finished by the time we reached the intersection of Alaska and California. He slowed slightly, and we both peered around, searching for a green house.
You can't miss it.It was a stupid piece of advice. What constituted green anyway? I saw a sage house, a forest green house, and a color that could have been green or blue. Some houses had green trim, green doors, or -
"Whoa," said Seth.
A small, run-down house painted a glaring shade of mintish lime stood there, nearly obscured by two much nicer houses.
"You can't miss it," I muttered.
We parked and walked toward it. As we did, the sounds of Doug's band clearly emanated from the garage. When we reached the open door, I saw Nocturnal Admission in full glory, Doug belting out lyrics in that amazing voice of his. He cut off abruptly when he saw me.
"Kincaid?"
His fellow band members looked on quizzically as he jumped down and sprinted over to me. Seth discretely took a few steps away, studying some nearby hydrangea bushes.
"What are you doing here?" asked Doug, not offended so much as astounded.
"I called in sick," I said stupidly. What did I do now?
"Are you sick?"
"No. I - I had something to do. Still do. But I'm... I'm worried about leaving the store. How long will you be here? Can you fill in for me after this?"
"You came here to ask me to cover for you? Why'd you call in sick? Are you finally running away with Mortensen?"
"I - no. I can't explain it. Just promise me, after this, you'll swing by the store and see if they need help."
He was staring at me with a look Seth had been shooting me all afternoon. One that sort of implied I needed a tranquilizer.
"Kincaid... you're freaking me out here..."
I looked up at him with the same baleful expression I'd used on Seth. Succubus charisma in action. "Please? You still owe me, remember?"
His dark eyes frowned in understandable consternation.
At last he said, "Okay. But it'll be a few hours before I can go."
"That's all right. Just go there straight afterward. No stops. And don't... don't tell them you saw me. I'm supposed to be sick. Make up some reason to go there."
He shook his head in exasperation, and I thanked him with a quick hug. As Seth and I departed, I saw Doug glance at Seth questioningly. Seth shrugged, answering the other man's silent inquiry with shared confusion.
I made more phone calls as we drove away, finishing my college list and leaving yet another desperate message for Roman.
"What now?" asked Seth when I lapsed into silence. Hard to say what he thought of my harassment of both Roman and Doug.
"I...I don't know."
I had reached the end of my options. Everyone was accounted for except Roman, and I had no way to reach him. The clock was ticking. I didn't know where he lived. I thought he'd mentioned Madrona once, but that was a big area. I could hardly start knocking on all those doors. The nephilim had said I had until the end of my shift. Despite bailing on work, I assumed that still meant nine o'clock. I had almost three hours left.
"I guess I'll pick up my car and go back home."
Seth dropped me off at the restaurant and followed me back to Queen Anne. A traffic light stopped him, so I made it to my apartment about a minute before he did. On my door was another note.
Nice job. You'll probably end up alienating all of these men with your erratic behavior, but I admire your pluck. One left to go. I wonder how fast on his feet your dancer truly is.
I was crumpling this note up when Seth reached me. I pulled my key out of my purse and feebly attempted to put it in my lock. My hands shook so badly, I couldn't do it. He took the key from me and opened the door.
We entered, and I collapsed on to the couch. Aubrey slithered out from behind it and jumped on my lap. Seth sat nearby, taking in my apartment - including my prominently displayed collection of his books on the new shelf - then returned his worried gaze to me.
"Georgina... what can I do?"
I shook my head, feeling helpless and defeated. "Nothing. I'm just glad you're here."
"I..." He hesitated. "I hate to tell you this, but I've got to leave in a little while. I'm meeting someone."
I looked up sharply. Another of those mysterious meetings. Curiosity temporarily replaced my fear, but I couldn't question him. Couldn't ask if he was meeting some woman. At least he said he was meeting someone. He wouldn't be alone.
"You'll be with... them... for a while then?"
He nodded. "I could come back late tonight, if you wanted. Or... maybe I could cancel."
"No, no, don't worry about it." By then, it would all be over.
He stayed awhile longer, again attempting conversation I couldn't participate in. When he finally stood up to leave, I could see anxiety written all over him and felt terrible I'd involved him in this.
"This will all be resolved tomorrow," I told him. "So don't worry. I'll be back to normal then. I promise."
"Okay. If you need anything, let me know. Call me, no matter what. Otherwise... well, I'll see you at work."
"No. I have tomorrow off."
"Oh. Well. Do you mind if I stop by?"
"Sure. Go ahead." I would have agreed to anything. I was too tired to hold to my earlier notion of distancing. I'd worry about that later. Honestly. One thing at a time.
He left reluctantly, no doubt baffled when I told him to spend a lot of time with whoever he was meeting. As for me, I paced all over my apartment, not knowing what to do. Maybe I couldn't get ahold of Roman because the nephilim had already found him. That would hardly be fair since I'd never even had a chance to genuinely warn him, but this nephilim didn't really seem like the type to care about right or wrong.
Struck by inspiration, I called Information, realizing I'd missed the obvious way to find him. It didn't matter. Unlisted.
Two hours before my shift would have ended, I left Roman another message. "Please, please, please call me," I begged. "Even if you're really mad at me for what happened. Just tell me you're out there and okay."
No return call came. Eight o'clock rolled around. With one hour remaining, I left him another message. I could feel hysteria creeping in. God, what was I going to do? All I did do was continue pacing, pondering how soon would be too soon to call Roman one more time.
Five minutes before nine, utterly frantic, I grabbed my purse, desperate to leave my apartment and do something. Anything. Time was almost up.
What would happen? How would I know if I'd successfully jumped through the nephilim's hoops? When I saw Roman's murder plastered across the paper tomorrow? Would there be another note? Or maybe some gruesome token? What if the nephilim hadn't even meant any of the people I'd considered? What if it was someone completely out of the realm of -
I opened my door to leave and gasped.
"Roman!"
He stood there, mid-knock, as surprised to see me as I was him.
I dropped my purse and ran to him, flinging myself at him in a fierce embrace that nearly toppled him. "Oh God," I breathed into his shoulder, "I'm so glad to see you."
"I guess," he replied, pulling slightly away to look down at me, his turquoise eyes concerned. "Lord, Georgina, what's wrong? I've got like eighty messages from you - "
"I know, I know," I told him, still not letting go. Seeing him stirred up all the old, queasy feelings I had thought were buried. He looked so good. He smelled so good. "I'm sorry - it's just, I thought something had happened to you..."