Succubus Dreams Page 0,78

of the contract?"

"No." Hugh's answer came almost before I finished speaking. "Absolutely not."

"But if there's some wording I didn't know about - "

"You think I can just go walk into Hell's records and pull a contract I'm not involved with?" he exclaimed. "Fuck. If I got caught, it'd make what happened to Raquel look like a promotion."

"But - "

"No," he said again, voice like stone. "No debate. I love you, sweetie. You know I do. You're like my sister, and I'd do almost anything for you, but not this. I'm sorry." I glared. He glared back. "Look, you want my advice? Get rid of Niphon. And Tawny, if you can. Expose them if they really are pulling something here, and Jerome will take it from there."

"Jerome's not even around! Damn it. Why can't you help me with this? You were so quick to help with my love life when you were talking to Seth the other night."

Hugh narrowed his eyes. "It was probably the best thing I've ever done for you."

"Are you insane? He's walking around talking about that now - all worried about how he's going to hurt me and make me miserable!"

"Good," snapped Hugh. "He should be."

I shoved my trash onto my tray and stood up. "See you later. Thanks for...well, nothing."

Hugh followed me over to the garbage bins. "You're behaving irrationally. On all of this."

"I'd never treat you the way you're treating me," I said, dumping my tray. "I'm your friend."

"Friendship has nothing to do with this."

"It has everything to do with this!"

He stacked his tray on the others and looked at his watch. "Look, I have to go. I'm sorry I can't give you the answers you want. Am I going to see you at Peter's?" Peter, unable to pass up party-giving opportunities, was hosting a Christmas dinner, weird as that seemed.

"No. I'm going to be with Seth. Unless he breaks up with me because of your great advice."

Hugh bit his lip on some remark that probably would have been uncomplimentary. Shaking his head, he turned around and left.

CHAPTER 20

I didn't expect to hear from Dante so quickly. Based on what he'd said about the difficulty of the Nyx-charm, I'd figured it would be a while - if at all. Hugh's observations on the matter had only reinforced my growing skepticism about Dante's abilities.

"I've got your protection," Dante told me on the phone. "Or at least as close as I can get. You want it, come pick it up." He disconnected.

I drove to Rainier Valley, finding Dante's shop empty as usual. "Guess you don't see a lot of business so close to Christmas, huh?"

"Actually," he told me, emerging from the back room, "you'd be surprised at the kind of desperation the holidays can bring out in people. Here, catch."

He tossed me something baseball-sized. I caught it, feeling a little disappointed when I studied it closer. It looked like a wicker ball, made of very thin, dark branches. Through the gaps, I could make out a few things inside. One looked like a rock. Another looked like a feather. The whole thing rattled when I shook it.

"This is it?" I asked. "This is going to keep away an uber-powerful dream entity? It looks like a prop from The Blair Witch Project."

"It can't force her away," he said. "Nothing can. But it might make her think twice. It's more of...a repellent."

"Like citronella?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, like citronella. Depending on her energy charge, she might blow past it. If she's weak enough...well, it might hold her back."

I examined the ball again. It still didn't look like much to me. I sensed no power or magic off of it, but not all objects had an aura I could sense. For reading inanimate items, a psychic mortal tended to be more adept than a lesser immortal. My silence appeared to further annoy Dante.

"Look," he snapped. "You don't have to use it, but it took a fuckload of power for me to craft it, okay? It'd be nice if you could maybe withhold your customary sarcasm for a whole five minutes to thank me."

"My customary sarc - "

I stopped the burst of temper starting to flare in me. Dante ranked near the top of my list of cynical acquaintances, but I wasn't exactly Pollyanna myself. I'd given him nothing but a hard time since I first came to him for help. And now, studying him, I noticed he was pale and tired-looking. His eyes were bloodshot. The ball might be