We fell silent, all of us watching the interactions. In the opposite corner, I saw Cedric gesturing dramatically as he spoke. His face was dark and intent, and Kristin stood nearby with a clipboard and rapt expression, taking notes. Not far away, Nanette stood with her lovely, unreadable face while listening to another demoness talk.

“So, you must be Jerome’s staff.”

The four of us turned. None of us had noticed the demon approaching, thanks to losing our ability to sense immortal signatures. This whole experience, I decided, really was like being bereft of sight or smell. This particular demon was no one I knew. He had a big toothy smile and skin that looked like it had had a tanning job go bad. His spiky white-blond hair wasn’t doing him any favors either.

He extended a hand. “I’m Tom. Pleasure to meet you all.”

We each shook his hand in return, introducing ourselves. He held our hands with great vigor, like a politician on the campaign trail. If we’d had a baby, I had no doubts he would have kissed it.

“I imagine this must be pretty strange for you,” he commented. “But I want you to know that we’re all here for you. There’s nothing to worry about—things’ll be back to normal before long.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, giving as good a succubus smile as I could in a non-succubus state. Snark around a demon was never a good idea. Snark when you didn’t have your normal powers? Horrible idea. “We’re just anxious to get Jerome back.”

His smile faltered a little but quickly resumed. “Yes, yes. Of course. We’re all doing everything we can. But, of course, you know there’s a chance Jerome might not be found . . .”

“So we’ve heard,” said Hugh, speaking as politely as I had.

Tom nodded. “But don’t worry. In the tragic event that happens, we’ll make sure you guys are taken care of. You can rest assured that Seattle’s next archdemon will rule with control and competence, making sure you’re able to perform your duties in an efficient and effective manner.”

I had a feeling he was on the verge of telling us how, if elected, he’d cut taxes and increase jobs, but we were interrupted by a high-pitched voice.

“Georg-gee-na!”

A seven-foot woman was heading toward us. She had ebony-black skin that looked horrible with her orange hair. The combination made Tom’s features look supermodel gorgeous. Gold eye shadow shot all the way to her eyebrows, its glitter rivaled only by the multicolored sequins of her dress. A black feather boa flared around her as she walked. Several demons in the room froze and watched her, which was remarkable. Demons are not easily fazed.