"You always did have good taste." He held up the black mesh bra and peered at me through it, as though imagining how it would look on. "Although I still don't know why you buy this stuff. Just shape-shift it."

"I have a respect for 'intellectual property.' Whoever designed this deserves their pay."

"Even if it was constructed by third-world labor?"

I made a face. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Where to?"

"A piano bar."

Surprise put his malaise on hold. "Are those still around?"

"Yup. There's actually a couple of them in Seattle."

In fact, one was even nearby, less than a fifteen-minute walk away. As we went, however, Bastien wouldn't stop worrying about the Dana thing. It drove me crazy. I hated her too, believe me, but I couldn't figure out what was making this such a maniacal obsession for him.

Fortunately, the piano bar was just wacky enough to distract him—as I'd hoped it would be. We ate yummy bar food and drank froofy drinks like Midori martinis and Sex on the Beach. Meanwhile, dueling pianists sang everything from Eminem to Barry Manilow. As the evening passed, getting a request played cost more and more money. However, the patrons grew drunker and drunker, so they didn't mind putting the cash down.

Knowing this in advance, I had brought a stack of bills, and Bastien and I took great amusement in seeing just how well the piano players could keep up with our increasingly older and more obscure requests. Bastien and I sang along beautifully. Shape-shifting, in addition to so many other benefits, could modify one's voice and vocal cords. The piano players had an astounding knowledge of our requests, and we were so impressed—and drunk—by the end of the night that we gave them a hefty tip.

Before we could leave, however, Bastien made me wait to hear one more request. "I slapped a fifty down with it," he said. "They've got to play it soon. I picked it just for you."

"If it's ‘Superfreak,' I walk," I warned.

He laughed. "You'll know it when you hear it. It reminded me of you and your writer. "

Sure enough, I immediately knew which song his silly sense of humor had led him to. The smile cracking his face was sort of a giveaway too. Pulling half of me onto his lap, he sang along loudly with Fiona Apple's lyrics:

  "I've been a bad, bad girl

I've been careless

With a delicate man

And it's a sad, sad world

When a girl will break a boy

Just because she can. "

  "You're truly a creature of hell," I told him, trying to wiggle away. "You know that, don't you?"

"I just tell it like it is." He held onto me and kept singing.

"Heaven help me

For the way I am

Save me from

These evil deeds

Before I get them done…"

When we finally left the bar, both of us laughing and humming, we passed a group of girls even more drunk than us. A few of them gave Bastien open looks of invitation, and I glanced at him expectantly. He shook his head.

"Too easy. Besides, I'd rather go home with you. So to speak."

He walked me back toward my apartment, holding my arm as he had once done when social mores dictated it for anyone of good breeding. The pavement was slick from earlier rain, and a moist chill hung in the air. Not far away, the Space Needle gleamed watchfully above the nearby buildings; it would have Christmas lights on it soon. Bastien tightened his hold on my arm and turned his gaze absentmindedly toward the cloudy sky for a while before looking over at me.

" Fleur ,do you want to know why I'm so gung-ho about this Dana business?"

I willed myself to sober up, suspecting something big was about to come. "You mean other than your righteous fury at her?"

He smiled gently and looked down at the pavement, watching our feet. "I'm in trouble. Big trouble." He sighed. "You ever heard of a demon named Barton?"

"No. Should I have?"

"Maybe. He works in Chicago. Very high up. Very powerful. He's one of those who expects 'favors' from his staff."

I nodded in understanding. It was one of the occupational hazards succubi and incubi faced, and probably something else Seth would be happier not knowing about. As workers in the sex industry, so to speak, our demonic supervisors often thought we wouldn't mind one more "customer." Many saw it as our duty. Whatever his other failings, Jerome at least had never demanded anything of that nature from me.

"So…anyway, Barton has this succubus named Alessandra. Relatively new. You know, a century or so. Beautiful. She has as good an eye for exquisite physical detail as you. And she's bright. Wicked sense of humor. Outgoing."

I stared at him in astonishment. "Are you in love, Bastien?"

"No, but I was—am—very attracted to her. Hard not to be. We got to know each other, and well, one thing sort of led to another…"

"As it often does with you."

"Yes," he admitted ruefully. "But let me tell you, it was amazing. That woman…wow."

"So how are you in trouble?"

"Well, the thing is, Barton's kind of possessive about his people. He expected Alessandra's body to be exclusively for his use—mortal business aside, of course."

"And he found out?"

"Yes. He turned unbelievably jealous." Contempt filled Bastien's voice. "Stupid emotion for our kind. Of course, demon or no, I suppose he might have had reason to feel insecure knowing his girlfriend had been with a sex-master like myself. I mean, once you go Bastien…"

"Keep telling the story, ego-master. What happened?"

"Well…to say he was pissed off would be an understatement. Honestly, I don't think I'd be enjoying your lovely company today if Janelle hadn't done some serious intervening." Janelle was Bastien's archdemoness in Detroit. "But mostly she just protected me from physical torture. Everything else is a mess. My career is in shambles. Barton has powerful friends, and Janelle's made it clear she's not going to cover my ass anymore."

We had reached my building and stood outside it now. He ran a hand through his dark curls, face suddenly weary. "I'm on everyone's shit list all of a sudden. Plans are already in motion to transfer me somewhere else, and I know it's going to be horrific. Like Guam. Or Omaha. That's why I need this Dana thing. A big hit like this—a public humiliation for the other side. It'll put me on top again. They won't be able to punish me, not if I've got a takedown like that on my record."

I started to understand his obsession with the radio host. "But the takedown isn't exactly taking."

"I don't know what else to do. I've tried all the old tricks, all the textbook moves plus a few exclusive Bastien moves. None of it's working."

I reached out to him. "You might have to accept that she's got a strong will,Bas.It happens."

"I know." He sounded so miserable, it broke my heart.

"Hey, come on. Don't give up the fight yet. I taught you everything you know, remember? We'll find a way out of this. We'll get that wench wet yet."

He laughed and brushed a finger against my cheek. "You always make me feel better when I'm around you, you know that? It's one of the wonderful things about you. That and— if the rumors are true—your mouth. "

"The rumors are true, and I'm going to help you with this, you'll see. Besides, nothing else works on her, there's always hard liquor, right?"

"Ah yes, the old standby." He hugged me tightly and kissed each cheek. "Good night, my sweet. Thanks for a lovely evening."

I kissed him back. "Anytime."

I had my hand on the door handle when I thought of something.

"Hey, Bastien?"

He turned from where he'd been walking away down the sidewalk. "Yes?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Alessandra. You must have known how Barton felt about her, right?"

"I did."

"So why risk it?"

He looked at me like he could scarcely believe I had to ask. "Because I could. Because she was beautiful and wonderful and I wanted her."