"Aliens or nephilim ?" I joked, trying to keep the conversation light, though I knew he had meant nephilim. I already knew they existed, but I was glad to hear him reaffirm it so readily. Surely if he wanted to hide being a nephilim's ally, he would have been more evasive.
"Both, actually, if you spent extensive time around my previous place of employment."
I laughed out loud, recalling how Krystal Starz did indeed stock books on how to commune with beings from outer space. "I'd forgotten about that. You know, I've actually had a few run-ins with your former boss recently."
Erik's eyes sharpened. "Have you? What happened?"
"No big deal. Just professional differences, I guess. I poached a few of your old coworkers— Tammiand Janice?— from her. Helena wasn't very happy."
"No. I imagine she wouldn't be. Did she do anything?"
"Came to my work and made a lot of noise, gave me some doom and gloom predictions. No big deal."
"She's an interesting woman," he observed.
"That's an understatement." I realized we'd gotten sidetracked and half expected Carter to chastise me for it. He didn't. "So, do you know of any way to spot a nephilim ? Anticipate where it'll be next?"
Erik gave me a strange look, not responding right away. I felt my stomach lurch a little. Maybe he did know more about our nephilim. I hoped not.
"Not really," he finally said. "Identifying immortals isn't so easy."
"But it can be done."
"Yes, of course, but some are better at hiding than others. Nephilim especially have reason to stay hidden since they're continually pursued."
"Even when not being nuisances?" I asked, surprised. Neither Carter nor Jerome had mentioned that.
"Even then."
"That's kind of sad."
I remembered the blurb from Harrington's book, recalling how both heaven and hell had rejected the nephilim. Maybe I'd be really pissed off in that case too, wanting to cause trouble and let both sides know I didn't approve of their policies.
Erik had little more to offer on nephilim, and our conversation digressed further and further. An hour went by to my surprise, as I would have expected Carter to stop me by now. Making my own excuses, I apologized to Erik, telling him I needed to get going. I bought some of the tea as usual, and he urged me to come back anytime, also as usual.
When I got to the door, he called hesitantly, "Miss Kincaid? About nephilim..."
I felt gooseflesh rise on me. He did indeed know something about all of this. Damn it.
"Remember, they're immortal. They've been around for a long time, but unlike other immortals, they have no agendas or divine plots to carry out. Many try to simply live meaningful and even ordinary lives."
I pondered this weird piece of information as I walked outside, imagining a nephilim commuting to a day job. Hard to juxtapose that with the horrific images I had otherwise been fostering.
Evening had long since fallen, and the parking lot was empty. Turning invisible, I waited for Carter to take us out. And waited. And waited.
"Well? What's the holdup?" I murmured.
No answer.
"Carter?"
No answer.
Then it hit me: Carter had left on another nephilim hunt. I was alone. Great. What was I supposed to do? I had no car, and regardless of what the angel had said about me being safe when he did this sort of thing, I felt uneasy standing out here alone in the dark. I stepped back inside the store, visible. Erik looked up at me with surprise.
"Do you mind if I wait here for a ride?"
"Not at all."
Of course, now I had to get a ride. Pulling out my new cell phone, I debated who to call. Cody would be the ideal choice, but he lived far south of the bookstore and I was north. He would already be on his way to the dance lesson, and coming up here would only ensure we were both late. I needed someone who lived close by, but I didn't know anybody except... well, Seth lived in the University District. That wasn't too far away from Lake City. The tricky part was whether he was actually at his home or still in Queen Anne.
Taking the plunge, I called his cell.
"Hello?"
"It's Georgina. Where are you at?"
"Urn, home..."
"Great. Would you mind giving me a ride?"
Fifteen minutes later, Seth arrived at Erik's. I'd half expected Carter to show back up in that time, but there'd been no sign of him. Thanking Seth, I slid into his car. "I really appreciate you doing this. My ride kind of flaked out on me."
"I don't mind." He hesitated and gave me a sidelong glance. "You look beautiful."
"Thanks." I had on a red sleeveless dress with a corset-like top.
"It could use a flannel shirt, though."
It took me a moment to remember the ensemble I'd worn to his brother's, a moment longer still to recall I'd never given him the shirt back.
"I'm sorry," I told him after I pointed the same thing out to him. "I'll bring it back soon."
"Not a problem. I'm still holding your book hostage, after all. Fair is fair. Feel free to wear it some more, so it smells like you and that perfume."
He abruptly shut up, apparently fearing he'd said too much, which was probably true. I wanted to laugh the comment off, ease his embarrassment a little, but instead all I could imagine was Seth holding the flannel shirt to his face, inhaling deeply, because it smelled like me. The image was so sexy, so utterly provocative, that I turned slightly away from him, looking out the window to hide my feelings and suddenly heavy breathing.
What a shameless strumpet I was, I decided as the rest of the car ride proceeded in dead silence. Crying over Roman one minute, suddenly wanting to jump into bed with Seth the next. I was fickle. I gave out mixed signals to men, flitting from one to another, beckoning with one hand and pushing away with the other. Admittedly, the Martin energy ride was fast coming to an end, so most males were starting to look pretty good again, but still... I had no shame. I didn't even know who or what I wanted anymore.
When Seth parked but refused to come in with me to Emerald City, I felt guilty, knowing he thought that I thought he must be a pervert or something for the perfume comment. I couldn't let that go, couldn't stand the thought of him feeling bad over me. Especially when the perfume remark had been kind of a turn-on. I had to fix things.
I leaned toward him, hoping the corset top would do half my work for me in smoothing the matter over. "Do you remember that one scene in The Glass House? The one where O'Neill walks that waitress home?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Um, I wrote that scene."
"If I recall, doesn't he say something about what a shame it is to abandon a woman in a low-cut dress?"
Seth stared at me, expression unreadable. Finally, a not-so-dazed smile flickered onto his face. "He says, 'A man who leaves a woman alone in a dress like that is no man at all. A woman in a dress like that doesn't want to be alone.' “
I looked back at him meaningfully. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Don't make me spell it out. I'm in this dress, and I don't want to be alone. Come inside with me. You owe me a dance, you know."
"And you know I don't dance."
"You think that'd stop O'Neill?"
"I think O'Neill kind of goes off the deep end sometimes. He doesn't know his limits."
I shook my head in exasperation and turned away.
"Wait," Seth called. "I'm coming."
"Cutting it close, aren't you?" Cody asked me later when we arrived in the cafe of the now closed bookstore, practically running.
I gave him a quick hug, and he and Seth nodded cordially at each other before the author blended off into the crowd of staff. "It's a long story."
"Is it true?" Cody whispered in my ear, leaning toward me. "Is Carter hanging around right now?"