My hand moved forward, like it was being controlled by an outside force. Nyx's eyes widened, eager and hungry.

  All of a sudden, a scream split the air.

  No, it was more than a scream. When Yasmine had destroyed Joel, that had involved screaming. This was more than that. It was the most horrible noise in the universe, a phenomenon that went beyond mere sound. Much as my eyes couldn't exactly perceive an angel's appearance, my ears couldn't fully comprehend this.

  My hand dropped from Nyx, and I jerked my gaze to the angels. Yasmine was still on her knees, and flames were starting to consume her. It was no ordinary fire, though. It reminded me of the light of her true form: all colors and none. Carter and Whitney watched, faces unreadable.

  Vincent also watched. He'd taken a few steps toward me, backing away from the fire. The look on his face was filled with a jumble of emotions, none of them good. I didn't understand what was happening to Yasmine yet, but I knew what would happen to him.

  "Get out," I told him in a low voice.

  His face was pale, as pale as Nyx's. He looked like he'd aged a hundred years. "I can't…I can't leave her…"

  "You have to. They'll destroy you. Or if they don't, someone else will. Someone else in the city will have noticed this. You know I'm right."

  His eyes were still on Yasmine. I could no longer see her, though. She was all flame—flame that had turned black.

  "Go!" I exclaimed. "It's what she'd want. She did this for you!"

  Vincent flinched at those words and finally looked at me. The full force of his grief made the held-back tears spill down my cheeks.

  "Go. Please," I begged. Joel had been destroyed. Yasmine looked like she was about to be. I couldn't stand anymore death.

  He said nothing, but after several seconds, he turned invisible. I felt his aura go.

  Across the room, the flames were starting to fade. Yasmine was slowly reappearing, completely unscathed. She looked no different, but something about her signature had changed. I felt the same golden light, the impression of saffron and frankincense. But it was edged in something else. It no longer had the sharp, crystalline quality of angelic auras. That was gone, replaced by a dark and smoky feel—a smokiness that had nothing to do with the fire.

  The flames finally disappeared altogether, and Yasmine still knelt on the floor. Seconds later, another signature joined us, one I knew well. Jerome stood in the room, apparently back from whatever clandestine matters he'd needed to oversee.

  He looked from face to face, finally focusing on mine. "Jesus Christ. What have you done now?"

  I ignored him, unable to tear my gaze from Yasmine. She looked the same, exactly the same. And yet, she wasn't…

  She'd noticed the change too. She held her arms out in front of her, studying them as though she'd never seen herself before. Horror flooded her features.

  "No," she moaned. "No…" She began sobbing again.

  Carter finally looked away from her and met Jerome's eyes. "This is yours now, Charon."

  Jerome nodded and stepped toward Yasmine. "Time to go."

  She looked up at him, face glistening with tears. She said nothing, but she didn't need to. Her expression said everything. It was a plea, a plea that none of this was real, that maybe—just maybe—Jerome could make it all go away. He shook his head and touched her shoulder. They vanished.

  The room was quiet, an unnatural quiet that felt almost oppressive. My voice seemed strange and out of place.

  "Wh-what happened?" I asked Carter. I noticed now that Whitney was crying.

  "Yasmine has fallen," he said softly. "She's a demon now."

  CHAPTER 23

  I couldn't stay in my bedroom after that, not after seeing two angels die—one physically and one spiritually. I had to get out of there, out of the apartment. None of the others seemed to notice or care that I fled. With Nyx captured, there were bigger things to worry about in the universe than one distraught succubus.

  I'd been driving in the car for about ten minutes before I realized where I was going. Dante's. Vincent's talk about the evil charm suddenly seemed unimportant. What I needed right now was to talk to someone about what I'd seen. Seth wouldn't entirely understand, and besides, matters still weren't fixed between us. Discussing serious things with the vampires was hard for me sometimes. I was still mad at Hugh. I wouldn't bother Erik since he was still recovering. Dante was all I had left.

  He opened the door to his store after I banged on it for about five minutes. The messy hair and wrinkled clothing showed me that I'd woken him again. He looked annoyed, as usual, when I walked inside.

  "Didn't it work? I told you—" He took a closer look at me. "What happened?"

  I staggered to one of the chairs and collapsed into it, hands resting on the side of my forehead. I could have been a mirror of Yasmine. I opened my mouth to speak, to explain what had happened…but no words came out. He knelt beside me.

  "Succubus. You're freaking me out here. What happened?"

  I stared blankly at him for several seconds before finally focusing on his concerned face. "She fell."

  "Huh? Nyx?"

  "No…Yasmine."

  "Who?"

  My eyes went unfocused again as I remembered that black flame. The horrible sound. Blinking, I tried to shake it off and turn my attention to Dante. "She's an angel. Was an angel. Maybe she still is. I don't know. Fuck, I don't know. I don't know what she is."

  He reached out and gripped my arms, shaking me slightly to get my attention again. "Look, you're losing me. I don't know how an angel falling ties into Nyx. If it ties into Nyx. You've gotta calm down and start from the beginning. Take a deep breath." I did. "Now another." I did. "Now talk."

  I did.

  It was hard at first, and I had a few false starts. Finally, however, I was able to back up and explain the cast of angels to Dante. The story slowly spilled from my lips, and I told him all about what had happened: Nyx's capture, Joel's death, and Yasmine's fall.

  He kept his hands on my arms when I finished, and I later realized it was to steady me. I was shaking. Several quiet minutes passed as we sat there. He exhaled at last and shook his head.

  "Fuck, succubus. That's a lot for one night. Even for you." He touched my chin with his hand and tilted my face up. "But you know angels fall. You know they still fall. All the time."

  "But I've never seen it," I whispered. "In all this time…

  I've never known anyone who was an angel and then became a demon. All the demons I know…well, they've always been demons. I never saw them when they were angels."

  "First time for everything."

  I met his eyes. "But I liked her."

  I expected some comment like, "Bad things happen to good people." Instead, he just shook his head. "I'm sorry."

  I swallowed back tears—I'd already cried enough tonight—and leaned forward, resting my head against his chest, just as I had the other night. He ran a hand down my hair and rocked me.

  "What hope is there?" I asked. "If even angels fall, what hope is there for the rest of us?"

  "There isn't," he said. "We're on our own. And we have to make the choices we think are best for our own survival. If your angel friend had been thinking like that, she wouldn't have fallen."

  "But that's the thing…angels don't think about themselves, right? They're selfless."

  "Maybe," he said doubtfully. "She let things get that far with the nephilim…that wasn't really selfless. Now they're both fucked, and we've got another member in the club."

  "What club?"

  "The club. Our club. The one for people who make one mistake and are punished forever because of it." He paused. "It's a pretty big club."

  I gently pulled out of the embrace. "What did you do?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Your one mistake. Vincent found the charm…he said it was horrible. Black magic. He said you had to have done something really bad to make it."

  Dante's eyes were sad as he regarded me. "You really want to know?"

  I nodded.

  "No. You don't. Right now, for the first time, you're talking to me like maybe I'm not the biggest asshole on earth. I tell you the truth…and you'll lose all respect for me."

  "I won't. I'll respect you more."

  He rolled his eyes. "People always say noble things in hypothetical situations. ‘I'd never cheat on my spouse.' ‘I'd return the million dollars that I found on the street.' It's bullshit."

  "It's not," I argued. "I respect the truth."

  "But you won't like it. Why do you think I didn't kiss you that day outside Erik's? I joke about wanting to sleep with you—hell, I do want to sleep with you—but if we'd done it, you'd have felt how little energy I really have."

  "I buy the low energy thing, but I still want to know the story behind it."

  His eyes narrowed in frustration. "Look, succubus. I don't even think I could tell the story if I wanted to. It's too hard."

  His comment about kissing suddenly inspired me. "Can you show me?"

  "What?"

  I moved toward him. "Kiss me. I can hardly get any energy from you, but if you open yourself to the memory, I should be able to feel pieces of it."

  I hoped that was true, at least. While my lovers' thoughts and feelings came through to me during sex, it wasn't exactly a system we could control. I couldn't summon up specific things. Usually what I felt was whatever the guy was thinking about just then. More often than not, it was amazement or perhaps a guilty conscience over the lover he was cheating on.

  But maybe…maybe if Dante was specifically thinking of whatever he had done, it would come through. It was worth a shot. I leaned closer to him. He didn't move, so I went in all the way and kissed him.

  Initially, it was just a kiss—all physical. Gradually, I started to get a bit of his life force—but it was just like he'd said. His soul was too dark. The life energy that flowed into me was barely a trickle. It was only a few drops, like a leaking faucet. Then…once I'd assessed the energy, I felt something else. I felt his soul—felt why it was so black, so devoid of the shining life most humans had. That blackness began pouring into me, that sickening and oozing evil…and there, behind it, was despair and anger and hopelessness and frustration. It was nauseating. Blackness and blood. I wanted to pull away, but I had to see what he was hiding.

  The memory came through to me in disjointed images, but I was able to piece them together and form a narrative. I saw a sister. Older than him by ten years. She'd taken care of him throughout his childhood—both in a motherly way and as an instructor. She was a psychic too. She'd taught him how to harness his power, to tap the magic of the world that was unseen to most humans. She had been powerful, but he was even stronger. It hadn't been enough, though. He'd wanted more than to simply control his power—he'd wanted to enhance it. But as Hugh and Vincent had told me, few humans were born with the magnitude of power that he'd craved.

  So, he'd taken it. Ripped it out.

  From her.

  I saw his face when he killed her, felt his pain as the dagger touched her throat. She was half-mother and half-sister to him, but he stole her life anyway. And with that act, his power had grown by magnitudes—both because he'd gained hers and because of the spell involved. The blood of the innocent always brings power, and the black magic intertwined in this death brought it in spades. It had left him feeling like a god.

  And wishing he were dead.

  He'd damned himself. He still loved the power, still loved wielding it…but after killing his sister, he'd hated himself. He'd withdrawn from the world, trying to bury his memories in drugs and alcohol, only occasionally using his powers for small, nickel-and-dime con jobs.

  I broke the kiss, not wanting to see or feel anymore. If we went further, I'd probably see what he had to do to make the charm. It wouldn't be as bad as what he'd done to his sister, but I was through with all this. Wide-eyed, I scooted away from him on the floor.

  "She was Erik's lover," I said softly. I'd had a brief glimpse of Tanya—that was her name—and Erik together. "She was the woman in the picture. That's why he hates you."

  Dante nodded. "The three of us…we were going to do great things. We were all so fucking talented, you know?" He rested a hand on his head, eyes full of grief. "Unsurprisingly, Erik chose to end our friendship after this. He wanted to kill me…he should have. He really should have. But, well. He's not that kind of guy."

  "No," I agreed, voice cold. "He's not." I stood up and backed away from Dante, who was still sitting on the floor.

  He looked up and realized what I was doing. The miserable face turned angry. "Leaving so soon?"

  "Yes."

  "Well. Thanks for stopping by. And thanks for proving me right."

  "About…?"

  He threw his hands in the air. "This. I told you you'd hate me."

  "I don't—" I stopped. I did hate him. I couldn't help it, not after seeing how much he and his sister had loved each other. Not after realizing how much this must have hurt Erik. "Dante…what you did…"

  "Was a mistake. One I would take back if I could. One mistake to damn me forever. Just like your angel friend. Just like you."

  "No," I said. "It's not the same. Yasmine fell because of love."

  "She fell because of selfishness," he argued. "But I won't challenge that point. Tell me about you. Did you fall because of love?"

  I didn't say anything. I'd fallen because of lust. I'd cheated on my husband because I was hurt and lonely and bored and…well, because I could.

  Dante regarded me sharply. "You see? I get it. You fucked up too. I understand you—you're not going to find too many people who do. I bet your boyfriend doesn't."

  "He accepts me."

  "But does he understand? Have you ever told him in painstaking detail what you did?"

  "No, but it doesn't matter."

  Dante stood up and approached me. "It does matter! Being with him is a joke. It can't work. I'm not saying you have some great romantic future with me either, but at the very least, you should stick with people who know where you've come from."

  "Right. Hanging out with you means I'd just drink and hate life."

  "Your point?"

  "Seth makes me hope for better things. Makes me want to be better."

  "But there's no point!" exclaimed Dante. "Why don't you get that? Things can't change for you. Even your own fucking palms say so."

  "No…Nyx said…Nyx said the dream could come true. The man in the dream—"

  "—was her scamming you. You would have fallen for it, too, if your angel hadn't fallen first."

  I clenched my teeth. "Her dreams are true. Seth and I—"

  "—are going to get married? Run off into the sunset? Have babies? Succubus! Wake up!" Dante was shouting, his face inches from mine. "It can't happen. Not for you. Maybe it can for him—but not with you. Every day you spend with him just ensures his life is going to be as empty and meaningless as yours."

  "That's not true!" I screamed. "We're happy. We're going to be happy together, and I don't care if you don't believe me.

  I'm never going to see or speak to you again. I know why Erik hates you, and I hate you too." I kicked the door open. "You deserve to burn in Hell."

  I left him, but I still couldn't make myself go home. With nothing else to do, I simply found a twenty-four-hour diner and drank coffee, pointedly ignoring anyone who talked to me. I watched the sun come up over the Olympic Mountains and finally went to work when the bookstore opened. I helped out with the last-minute Christmas rush, doing mindless and mechanical tasks. We were closing early that day, and everyone was finishing up their shopping. It was hectic and crazy, but it gave my zombie-like body something to do.

  When we closed, it was nearly time for me to take Maddie to the airport. She needed a few more Christmas purchases herself and asked if I'd swing downtown with her. After witnessing the death of an angel, shopping seemed like the most trivial thing in the world. Still…I had nothing else to do, so I agreed. I probably would have agreed to anything.

  Downtown Seattle was decked out in its Christmas finery, with lights and wreaths strung along the shopping nexus that centered around Fourth Avenue. At four in the afternoon, it was already dark outside. Rain pounded down on the pavement, the kind of torrential downpour most people believed we had year-round. Really, it only rained in the winter, and that was usually a drizzly type. This heavy stuff was a rare event, as though perhaps the heavens mourned Joel's passing.

  Through a window, I watched the rain and pedestrians fighting with umbrellas while Maddie searched in Banana Republic for something for her sister. I'd half-heartedly looked for a present for Seth, but my motivation eventually faded, and anyway, there was no way to compete with the ring. I still wore it around my neck. It felt heavy today.

  Along with my grief over what had happened to Yasmine, I still kept thinking about Nyx. In particular, I kept thinking about what she'd said to me. The man in the dream. Who was the man in the dream? The question consumed me, as futile as it was. I kept repeating Dante's words, trying to tell myself it didn't matter—that the whole thing had been a hoax. But that dark silhouette still haunted my mind's eye, and some part of me believed that if I knew his identity, then maybe it could all be real.

  "Georgina?"

  I turned from the rainy street and saw Vincent standing in front of me. Beyond him, a preoccupied Maddie flipped through a rack of cardigans. I'd thought he looked grief-stricken in my apartment, but that was nothing compared to what I saw now. His face was pinched and pale. His eyes were glassy and red, but whether from crying or lack of sleep, I couldn't say. Probably both.

  He handed me my apartment key. "Just wanted to give this back."

  I took it. "You didn't need to find me for that. You could have left it."

  "Yeah." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground. "I guess I just…wanted to talk to someone."

  "Have you, um, seen Yasmine?"

  He shook his head. "Nope. I don't know what happened to her. I mean, I know…she's off somewhere in Hell. Maybe they have orientation or something. I don't know. Whatever it is, it must be awful. And it's my fault."