"No, actually. He was, but then he just bailed on me. That's why I'm late. I had to call Seth to pick me up."
The young vampire's serious mien relaxed. "I'm sure that was a big sacrifice for both of you."
Ignoring the jibe, I rounded up the troops so the lesson could get under way. As we had observed last time, most were about as ready as they would ever get. We didn't teach anything new, choosing instead to review old techniques, making sure the basics were solid. Seth, as he had stated, did not dance. He had a harder time resisting, however, as most of the staff knew him well by now. Many of the women tried to entreat him. He remained obstinate.
"He'd dance if you asked him," Cody told me at one point.
"I doubt it. He's been refusing all night."
"Yeah, but you're persuasive."
"Carter implied the same thing. I don't know when I got this reputation as Miss Congeniality."
"Just ask him."
Rolling my eyes, I walked over to Seth, noticing his gaze was already on me.
"All right, Mortensen, last chance. Are you ready to make the switch from voyeur to exhibitionist?"
He inclined his head toward me curiously. "Are we still talking about dancing?"
"Well, that depends, I suppose. I heard someone once say that men dance the same way they have sex. So, if you want everyone here to think you're the kind of guy who just sits around and—"
He stood up. "Let's dance."
We stepped out, and despite his bold declaration, his nervousness came through loud and clear. His palm was sweaty as he grasped my hand, his other hand almost too hesitant to fully rest its weight on my hip.
"Your hand swallows mine up," I teased him gently, easing mine inside his. "Just relax. Listen to the music, and count the beats. Watch my feet."
As we moved, I had the impression he had done the basic step before. He had no trouble remembering the pattern. His problem was coordinating his feet with the music, a behavior which came instinctually to me. I could tell he literally counted beats in his head, forcefully lining them up with his feet. Consequently, he spent more time looking down than at me.
"Are you going to come with us when we go out?" I asked conversationally.
"Sorry. I can't talk and count at the same time."
"Oh. Okay." I did my best to hide a smile.
We continued on this way, in silence, until the lesson ended. It never became a natural process for Seth, but he never missed any steps, paying attention to them with steadfast determination and diligence, sweating profusely the entire time. Standing so close to him, I could again feel something akin to static in the air between us, heady and electric.
I made the rounds with Cody as things closed down, telling everybody goodbye. Seth was one of the last to leave, approaching Cody and me as we walked out the back door.
"Nice job tonight," Cody told him.
"Thanks. My reputation was on the line." Seth turned to me. "I hope I redeemed myself with the whole dancing-sex comparison."
"I suppose there were a couple of notable similarities," I observed, holding a straight face.
"A couple? What about attention to detail, heavy exertion, lots of sweat, and single-minded determinedness to get the job done and done well?"
"Mostly I was thinking you just don't talk during sex." Mean perhaps, but I couldn't resist.
"Well, my mouth has better things to do."
I swallowed, my own mouth dry. "Are we still talking about dancing?"
Seth told us good night and left.
I watched him go wistfully. "Anyone else here feel like swooning?"
"I sure do," came Carter's jovial voice behind us.
Cody and I both jumped.
"Christ," I exclaimed. "How long have you been back?"
"No time for small talk. Hang on, kids."
After giving a quick glance around to ascertain we were alone, the angel suddenly grabbed our wrists. I felt that nauseating, rushing feeling again, and the next thing I knew, we stood in a very elegantly decorated living room. I had never seen this place before, but it was beautiful. Coordinated leather furniture adorned the room, expensive-looking art hung on the walls. Opulence. Style. Magnificence.
The only problem was, the entire place had been trashed. Slashes marred the posh furniture, tables had been knocked 'over, and the art was either askew or defiled or both. On one wall, a huge symbol I didn't recognize had been spray-painted: a circle with one line crossing it vertically and another cutting through at an angle, left to right. The glamour mixed with such desecration left me utterly dumbfounded.
"Welcome to Chвteau Jerome," Carter announced.
CHAPTER 20
"My apologies for the abrupt transport," Carter continued. "Jerome started freaking out that I'd left you alone for so long."
"I've never 'freaked out' in my life— er, existence, er whatever," mused Jerome, strolling into the room. Studying him, I could believe his words. Dressed immaculately as ever, he held a martini in one hand and looked utterly at ease amid the disarray.
"Nice place," I told him, still aghast at the damage done to such beauty. "Fixer-upper?"
The demon's eyes flashed with amusement at my joke. "I do so love having you around, Georgie." He sipped his drink. "Yes, it is a little rough around the edges right now, but no worries. It'll clean up. Besides, I have other domiciles."
Jerome had always been very tight-lipped about where he lived, and I suspected it was only Carter's intervention that allowed us to even remain here right now. The demon would have never invited us. Walking over to a large bay window, I beheld a magnificent view of Lake Washington, the Seattle skyline glittering beyond it. Based on the angle of my view, I would have wagered money we were in Medina, one of the more elite Eastside suburbs. Only the best for Jerome.
"So what happened?" I finally asked when it became apparent no one else intended to broach the subject. "Was this a nephilim attack, or did you just throw a party that got out of hand? Because honestly, if it's the last one, I'm going to be really pissed we weren't invited."
"No such fears," Carter told me, smiling. "Our friend the nephilim did a little redecorating, kindly flashing us when it was over. That's why I abandoned you at Erik's. I would have given you some warning, but when I felt it over here..." He looked meaningfully at Jerome. The demon scoffed in response.
"You what? Thought I was in danger? You know that's not possible."
Carter made a nondescript noise of disagreement. "Yeah? What do you call that?" He inclined his head toward the spray-painted symbol.
"Graffiti," responded Jerome disinterestedly. "It means nothing."
I walked away from the breathtaking window and its pricey view, looking the symbol up and down. I'd never seen anything like it, and I was familiar with a lot of characters and markings from all types of places and times.
"It must mean something," I countered. "Seems like a lot of trouble for nothing. Otherwise, he could have just written 'you suck' or something like that."
"Maybe that's in one of the other rooms," suggested Cody.
"A punch line worthy of Georgie. You're learning more than dancing."
Ignoring the demon's attempt to change the subject, I turned to Carter for answers. "What is it? You must know what it means."
The angel studied me speculatively a moment, and I realized I'd never appealed to him before for serious help. Until our recent roommate stint, most of our interactions had been downright antagonistic.
"It's a warning," he said slowly, not looking at his demonic counterpart. "A warning of impending disaster. The real phase of a battle about to begin."