Succubus Dreams Page 0,32

ones always are. People like him make their living reading people and exploiting little things - like that girl's longing for romance.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "You know that. I can't have them."

"I didn't ask that, succubus. I asked if you wanted them."

I averted my eyes, studying the crystal ball. With the way the sunlight hit it, I suspected it was actually plastic.

"Sure. I did even when I was mortal. If I could have kids now, I would."

He nodded, and for the first time, I got the impression he might almost be taking me seriously. Almost. "And let me guess. You woke up without energy."

"Yes, and I'd gotten a victim the night before. Just like last time."

His face turned speculative. "Interesting. It only happens when you're charged up."

"What do you think it means?"

"Dunno. Might not mean anything."

"It has to! I'm losing energy for no reason at all."

"You're stressed," he argued. "And you're, like, one of the most uptight people I've ever met - immortal or otherwise. You've spent centuries wishing you could get knocked up. You have this celibate boyfriend thing going on. And you work for that demon, right? The one who looks like Matthew Broderick?"

"John Cusack," I corrected. "He looks like John Cusack."

"Whatever. That's enough to tax anybody. Your dreams are manifestations of the woes in your life, coming out of your subconscious in vivid, energy-sucking ways."

"You are so unhelpful. Your dream expertise is a scam - like everything else."

"Nah. Not everything I do is a scam. I know dreams. I know spells. And I know what could help you."

"What?"

He pointed to the counter. "You and me. Up there. Naked. Horizontal."

I groaned. "Wow, you really weren't lying. You are a romantic."

"A pragmatist. And an opportunist."

"A sleazy guy, treating me like a cheap whore..."

"Fuck, I haven't been laid in months, and now this succubus shows up wanting my help. You'd try to bargain for sex too."

I eyed him warily. "Is that what this is about? I have to sleep with you to get help?"

Dante shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nope. You'd be more fun if you were willing, I think. Besides, I have no other help to give."

Disappointed, I made motions to leave. "Okay. Thanks. Sort of."

"You know what else might help?" he called after me.

"If it involves sex - "

"A vacation. At the very least, a massage. Basic stress reliever things."

Those were actually reasonable things, and I was pleasantly surprised to see his mind wasn't always in the gutter. "They can help," I told him. "But I doubt a massage will fix the problems in my life."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But if you want a free one...a naked free one..."

I left.

I'd already felt like my romance with Seth was some infinite loop tape reel. The rest of my life apparently was too. Have the same dream, go to Dante, get no help, go to work, and ruminate. Because that's exactly how my day was unfolding, just like before.

I went through the motions of paperwork and customer service at Emerald City, all the while consumed by images of the little girl in the dream and the sweet fantasy of having a daughter. My heart ached to see her again, to see that smile. Everything at my job seemed so shallow and meaningless compared with her.

When work ended, I brought Maddie back to my apartment to make good on my promise to get her a date.

"You're going to sell me?" she exclaimed when I told her the plan.

"It's an auction," I said. "For a children's charity. You don't hate kids, do you?"

"Well, no, but - "

"Then this'll be great. Here, try this on." I tossed her a BCBG shopping bag. She eyed it warily.

"Isn't that a place for teenagers?"

"It's a place for anybody with style," I assured her.

She opened the bag and pulled out the knee-length dress I'd picked up for her the other day. It was silk chiffon with a dark pink geometric print. The empire waist had a slightly gathered top, and the V-neck had a bow that tied underneath it. Fluttery cap sleeves finished it off.

"I can't wear this," she said immediately.

"Why? Because it'll look good?"

She shot me a glare. "There's hardly anything there."

"What? There's plenty." I owned lots of dresses that had "hardly anything there." This was elegant and tasteful. Amish country compared to some of my clothing. "Try it on, and we'll see."

She did, reluctantly, and I could have crowed with delight when she stepped out of my bathroom. I'd totally nailed the size. It