A new voice suddenly cut into our circle. “Please tell me we’re discussing your romantic hijinks, Georgie. There’s nothing I enjoy more.”

There he was, standing beside our table: my boss Jerome, archdemon of Seattle and its greater metropolitan area. I glared. I didn’t appreciate the mocking tone—or him calling me Georgie. He sat down beside Hugh, and the waiter I’d been trying to summon dashed over immediately. We ordered a new round of drinks.

Jerome was clearly in a good mood today, which always made our lives easier. He had on a black designer suit, and his hair was styled exactly the same as John Cusack’s had been in a recent TV interview I watched. That probably bears mentioning: Jerome’s human body of choice was a clone of John Cusack. Succubi can change shape because that’s part of what helps us with seduction. Demons can change shape simply because—like angels—they’re insanely powerful beings who have been around since the beginning of time. They’re “greater immortals.” Because of a weird fan obsession that he adamantly denied, Jerome chose to interact in the mortal world looking like the actor. The strange thing was that when we were out like this, humans never seemed to notice the resemblance.

“You haven’t been out with us in a while,” I pointed out, hoping to change the subject. “I thought you’ve been busy with demon stuff.” Rumor had it that Jerome was sparring with another demon, though none of us knew the details.

He took one of my cigarettes out of the pack without asking. A moment later, the end of the cigarette lit on its own. Show-off.

“Things have actually taken a pleasant turn,” he said. He inhaled deeply and then let the smoke swirl around him. “One less thing to deal with. I’d hoped the incessant babbling about your romantic woes was also going away, but I suppose that’s too much to hope for. Are you still with that charlatan?”

I threw up my hands. “Why does everyone hate Dante? You guys should be embracing him as a brother.”

Jerome considered, dark eyes thoughtful. “He annoys me. You can do better.”

“Jesus Christ,” I said.

“Maybe she’d see that if she’d stop doing stupid shit like sleeping with her therapist,” noted Hugh, in what was apparently supposed to be a helpful tone.

I turned on him, eyes wide. “Did you listen to anything I just said?”

“Plenty,” he said.

Meanwhile, Jerome’s lazy, pleased expression disappeared. He fixed his gaze on me, eyes burning like flame yet inexplicably making me feel cold all over. He smashed the cigarette out and shot up from his seat. Grabbing my arm, he jerked me up from my own spot and started dragging me from the table.

“Come with me,” he hissed.

I stumbled with him out to the hall that led to the restrooms. Once out of the sight of others, he pushed me against a wall and leaned toward me, face filled with fury. It was a sign of his agitation that he was behaving like a human. He could have simply transported both of us to some isolated place.