I made it through three colleges by the time I reached Capitol Hill. I breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Seth waiting outside the place I'd indicated. After I parked and paid the meter, I walked up to him, trying to smile in some semblance of normality.

 It apparently didn't work.

 "What's wrong?"

 "Nothing, nothing," I proclaimed cheerfully. Too cheerfully.

 His look implied disbelief, but he let the matter drop. "Are we eating here?"

 "Yup. But first we have to go see Doug."

 "Doug?" Seth's confusion deepened.

 I led him to an apartment building next door and climbed to Doug's floor. Music blared from inside his apartment, which I took as a good sign. I had to beat on the door three times before anyone answered.

 It wasn't Doug. It was his roommate. He looked stoned.

 "Is Doug here?"

 He blinked at me and scratched his long, unkempt hair.

 "Doug?" he asked.

 "Yeah, Doug Sato."

 "Oh, Doug. Yeah."

 "Yeah, he's here?"

 "No, man. He's..." The guy squinted. Lord, who got high this early in the day? I hadn't even done that back in the 1960s. "He's practicing."

 "Where? Where do they practice?"

 The guy stared at me.

 "Where do they practice?" I repeated.

 "Dude, did you know you have, like, the most perfect tits I've ever seen? They're like... poetry. Are they real?"

 I clenched my teeth. "Where. Does. Doug. Practice?"

 He dragged his eyes from my chest.

 "West Seattle. Over by Alki."

 "Do you have an address?"

 "It's by... California and Alaska." He blinked again. "Whoa. California and Alaska. Get it?"

 "An address?"

 "It's green. You can't miss it."

 When no other information came, Seth and I left. We went to the restaurant I had indicated. "Poetry," he reflected along the way, amused. "Like an ee cummings poem, I'd say."

 I was too preoccupied to process what he was saying, my mind racing. Even waffles with strawberries couldn't keep me from worrying about this idiotic scavenger hunt. Seth attempted conversation, but my answers were vague and distracted, my mind clearly not with him through the meal. When we finished, I unsuccessfully tried Roman again, then turned to Seth.

 "Are you going back to the bookstore?"

 He shook his head. "No. I'm going home. I realized I need too much of my research to write this scene. Easier to stay in my own office."

 Panic blazed through me. "Home? But..." What could I say? Tell him that if he stayed at home, he might be in danger of attack by a sociopathic, supernatural creature?

 "Stay with me," I blurted out. "Run errands with me."

 His polite complacency finally broke. "Georgina, what in the world is going on? You go home sick when you're not. You're clearly agitated about something, desperately so. Tell me what this is about. Is something wrong with Doug?"

 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.