"And you gave it to the band," I realized.

"Yeah. It was the only way…the only way we could get big. It's all I've ever wanted. To land a record deal and get famous. This was the only way."

"No," I said. "It was just the fastest way."

"Look, what'd you do to Sol? What are you going to do to me?"

"What am I going to do?" I yelled, my anger rising through the drug. I shook him, knocking his head against the floor. "I should kill you too! Do you know what you've done to all these people? To the band? Doug's in the hospital right now because of you."

His eyes went wide. "I didn't know that. Honest. I didn't want to hurt him…I-I just couldn't get the stuff on time. Not until I delivered you."

He spoke of me and the other victims like we were commodities. I wanted to pick him up and throw him out the window. I could do it too. Humans were indeed fragile things, and while my succubus shape-shifting didn't have the power to maintain this ьber-strong shape all night, I could hold it long enough to do some major damage.

Despite my normal abhorrence of violence, I have to admit that throwing people around a room is actually more satisfying than you'd think. After Dominique had died, I tracked down the corrupt doctor who had botched her abortion. I had changed from Josephine and wore the shape of an apish, seven-foot-tall man with bulging muscles. Storming into the doctor's small, sinister office, I didn't waste any time. I grabbed him as if he weighed nothing and tossed him against the wall, knocking down shelves of curiosities and so-called medical implements. It felt fantastic.

Striding over, I picked him up by the front of his shirt and punched him hard in the side of the head, ten times harder than I'd hit Alec. The doctor staggered and fell but still had enough life to scramble backwards, crab-style, in an effort to get away.

"Who are you?" he cried.

"You killed a girl tonight," I told him, moving menacingly. "A blond dancer."

His eyes bulged. "It happens. I told her. She knew the risks."

I knelt down so that we were at eye level. "You cut her open and took her money. You didn't care what happened to her."

"Look, if you want the money back—"

"I want her back. Can you do that?"

He only stared, shaking with fear. I stared back at him, shaking with my own power. I had the ability to kill him. To throw him again or snap his neck or choke the breath from him. It was terrible and wrong, but seized by my own rage, I couldn't control myself. Honestly, it's fortunate in the long run that most incubi and succubi have mild personalities more bent on pleasure than on pain. With the ability to take on any shape, we can be pretty deadly to mortals if we're pissed off enough. They can't really stand against us. This doctor sure as hell couldn't.

But another immortal could.

"Josephine," murmured Bastien's voice behind me. Then:" Fleur ."

When I still didn't respond or loosen my grip, Bastien said, "Letha."

My birth name penetrated the bloodlust pulsing through me.

"Let him go. He isn't worth your time."

"And Dominique isn't worth avenging?" I demanded, my eyes never leaving the wretched human before me.

"Dominique is dead. Her soul is in the next world. Killing this man won't change that."

"It'll make me feel better."

"Maybe," conceded Bastien. "But it isn't your place to mete out punishment to mortals. That's reserved for higher powers."

"I am a higher power."

The incubus rested a gentle hand on my shoulder. I flinched. "We play a different role. We don't kill mortals."

"You and I have both killed before, Bas."

"In defense. Protecting a village from raiders isn't the same as cold-blooded murder. You may be damned, but you aren't this far gone."

I released my hold on the doctor and leaned back on my knees. He stayed frozen. "I loved Dominique," I whispered.

"I know. That's the problem with mortals. They're easy to love and quick to perish. Better for all of us to keep our distance."

I didn't touch the doctor, but I didn't move either. Bastien gave me a gentle tug, still quietly reasonable.

"Come on, let's go. Leave him. You don't have the right to end his life."

I let Bastien lead me out. Once in the dark alley flanking the doctor's office, I shape-shifted back to my more natural-feeling Josephine form.

"I want to leave Paris," I told him bleakly. "I want to go somewhere where there is no death."

He put an arm around me, and I leaned into his soothing presence. "No such place exists, Fleur."

In Sol's house, I still bore down on Alec, again empowered with the ability to crush his life if I chose. But Bastien's words echoed within me, and I realized with an ache how much I regretted my current hostility with the incubus. Regardless, he was still correct after all these years. Revenge killings were not my right. It was unfair for an immortal to take advantage of a much weaker mortal. I would be no better than Sol. And looking at Alec underneath me, I realized just how terribly young he was. Not much older than Dominique.

And anyway, my strength and coherence were failing by the second. I leaned in menacingly to Alec.

"G-get out," I mumbled through numbed lips. "I want you to get out. Out of Seattle. Don't ever contact Doug or anyone else from the band again. If I find out you're still in the city tomorrow night…" I struggled for an appropriate threat. My mental processes were grinding to a halt. "You, um, won't like it. Do you understand?"

My bluff worked; he was clearly terrified. I climbed off him and sat crouched because I couldn't stand. He scrambled up, gave me a last terrified look, and tore out of the room.

As soon as the door closed, I passed out.

CHAPTER 21

I woke up the next morning with the worst hangover of my life, and that's saying something.

It was actually the cold air that woke me, blowing in through the shattered windows and whipping the curtains around. Seattle had mild winters, but it was still November. I shape-shifted on a heavy sweater and then noticed that Sol's blood had not disappeared from my skin during last night's transformation, the blood had dried to fine, glittering red crystals on me and everything else. I picked up his discarded silk shirt and discovered it did a pretty good job at wiping them off.

The previous night was a blur, and I had trouble remembering the fine details. I supposed I could blame whatever mystery liquid I'd drank for that. Looking around at the wreckage brought a lot of the events back to me, and the rest I pieced together. Not wanting to linger in this place, I found my cell phone and called for a cab.

As I rode back into Seattle, I decided I wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep some more. My shift didn't start until later; Doug was opening. Wait. No, he wasn't. Doug was in a hospital bed. Sighing, I directed the driver to take me to the bookstore.

Three voice-mail messages waited for me when I arrived in the office. One was from the author we had doing a signing that night, E. J. Putnam. All was in order with his flight; he expected to be here as scheduled. The second message was Beth calling in sick. Jesus. Couldn't anyone stay healthy anymore? That put us down two people now. Warren wrapped up the messages, saying he'd be back from Florida later today and would stop in tonight. I decided to be mad at him out of sheer principle. I'd spent the last week dealing with chaos; he'd been golfing in eighty degree weather.

I got the store running and then staked out a register. Short-staffing will keep a person busy, at least. It gave me little time to reflect on last night's events. Or Doug. Or the fact that Seth hadn't come in today. Or my fight with Bastien.