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.
"Are you Georgina?"
I looked up into the face of a pretty Japanese-American woman. Her face and build just barely crossed over into plumpness, and she wore her black hair in a high ponytail. Something about her smile seemed familiar.
"I'm Maddie Sato," she explained, extending a hand. "Doug's sister."
I shook her hand, astonished. "I didn't know Doug had a sister. "
Her smile quirked a little. "Lots of them, actually. We're kind of spread out around the country. We all sort of do our own thing."
"So you came to...see Doug?" I hesitated to bring up such a delicate subject, but why else would she be here?
She nodded. "I've been with him this morning. He's doing great and said to tell you hello."
That was the best news I could have received. "He woke up."
"Yes. He's grumpy and punchy but otherwise fine. He said he has some CDs in your office he wants. He asked if I could pick them up."
"Sure, I'll show you," I said, leading her toward the back. Wow. Doug's sister. "How'd you find out about Doug?"
"Seth Mortensen called me."
I stumbled and nearly walked into a display of gardening books. "How do you know Seth?"
"I write for Womanspeak magazine. Seth had some questions about a feminist organization that he needed answered for his book, and Doug gave him my e-mail address about