"I know a number of devout Christians—my good friend Dana included—who would find that offensive."

Jerome couldn't stay silent anymore, despite how disgruntled this topic appeared to make him. "Imagine her reaction if she knew that some people have speculated the Eucharist has little to do with the blood of Christ and more to do with a lost ambrosia ceremony. Said people argue those who participate today are only mimicking the ancient experience, equating the Holy Spirit with the high from ambrosia."

"That would upset a lot of people," I agreed. All three of us knew that many of the rites and beliefs that had been passed down to today were bastardizations of the originals. Some, not all.

Carter continued on pleasantly, like he was in an auditorium giving a lecture. "Ancient Hindu culture called ambrosia soma and even personified it as a god of the same name. His presence was as intoxicating as the drink itself and muddled the senses of those around him. "

"Soma was also the feel-good drug in Brave New World," I recalled. "I didn't realize how widespread this was."

He nodded. "And these stories are only the tip of the iceberg. A lot more where they came from."

I enjoyed the information. Getting any sort of meaningful explanation from these two was usually like driving through downtown Seattle in rush hour: slow, painful, and fraught with collisions. And yet, forthcoming or not, they weren't exactly giving me what I needed.

"Yeah, but you guys are real careful to say things like 'some people believe' or 'they say.' Which is it? What's really going on? Are any of those stories true?"

Carter's gray eyes twinkled. "Ah, I can't spoil the mysteries. Humans spend their lives trying to discern the truth of divinity. Even a succubus can't be in on all the secrets."

I gave him an exasperated look. This was more like their typical behavior. "Okay, forget the myths. Can you tell me what's up with this stuff, then? Does it make people immortal?"

Angel and demon looked at each other. "No," they both said in unison.

"But it makes you feel like you are," said Carter.

I thought about Doug's reckless behavior, his overwhelming confidence about everything from performing his music to stage-diving. He had no fear, no concern that anything might be less than perfect.

"So it's like a stimulant or any other mood-altering drug, then," I said. "It makes you feel good."

The angel shook his head. "No. It's a lot more than that. Ambrosia works by…" He grasped for the words. "I guess the best way to put it is that it amplifies your best abilities. It draws out what you're good at, what shines in you. And then it cranks up the volume on that to, well, godly levels, I guess."

"Yes, of course," I breathed.

That was why the band had suddenly shot off so successfully and rapidly. They were talented already. The ambrosia hadn't given them anything new; they'd just had their natural abilities increased tenfold. A hundredfold. And Casey…mathematically talented Casey had been able to do calculations in seconds that would have required a pen and paper for most people. Even Doug's Tetriss kills showed signs of ambrosia enhancement.

Ican't wait to see how you react to them, Alec had said. Indeed, how would I react? What good abilities in me would get amplified? What abilities did I have? The obvious joke was that I'd be able to really rock some guy's world in bed. I didn't like that answer, however, partially because I believed I already could rock a guy's world pretty hard-core without the help of creepy crystals, thank you very much. Plus, I hated to think that's all I was. There had to be more to me than just sexual prowess.

"Everyone who was on it crashed," I reminded Carter. "Doug, Casey. And when they crashed…they really crashed."

"It does that," he agreed. "One might argue that the withdrawal brings out your worst traits…or possibly turns your good ones bad. More often than not, it just makes a person depressed…and lacking. It's hard to go back to being ordinary. "

That would explain Doug's bleak outlook the other day. I realized too he'd been having a withdrawal reaction on the day I kicked him out of the store. The lack of ambrosia had turned his normally sarcastic tongue and playful behavior into something dark and twisted. And yet…

"It must be nice to feel like a god. I guess I can understand wanting that. "

"Well," said Jerome, speaking up at last, "as we all know, you can't get something for nothing."

Carter nodded. "At a basic level, it's an addictive substance, and everything addictive has a cost—mainly that it enslaves you and makes you feel horrible when you don't have it. But, the other truth is that humans are not meant to be perfect. That's what humanity is: a series of successes and failures, a testing of one's own nature and aptitude. Neither the body nor the soul can sustain such a state. Eventually it consumes a person."

I pointed at the crystals. "What would have happened if I'd taken them?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Jerome, his tone suggesting the same sexual possibilities I'd wondered about earlier.

Carter gave me a straight answer. "Similar superficial effects. Enhance your good qualities. Immortals wouldn't fall prey to the addictiveness so quickly; they can sustain it for quite a while since in some ways, they already feel like gods. But in the long run, the consequences are still the same. You can't function at such high levels. Now, the ambrosia couldn't destroy your body, of course, but it'd still cause other serious problems if you took it for a long time."

"It'd probably just make you go insane," explained Jerome helpfully. "Until the end of time."

"That's horrible," I said.

"Don't worry, Georgie. If it happens to you, we'll put you down first."

Ignoring him, I looked over at the crystals, suddenly feeling more repulsed by them than I had before. This time, my reaction had nothing to do with the creepy aura.

"The real question, of course," said the archdemon more seriously, "is where the hell did you get these?"

"I told you. From Alec."

The two higher immortals exchanged glances once more.

"Tell us about this guy again," ordered Jerome. "Everything you know."

I did. When I finished, they looked at each other once more, having a mental conversation I was not privy to. God, they were annoying.

"Alec's not the one," said Carter finally.

"The one who…?"

"The one who this is coming from," explained Jerome.

"Well, I got it from him…"

"Doesn't matter, Georgie. Some twenty-year-old blue-haired punk is not the source here. He's getting it from someone else. He's a peon in the chain. Besides, you never felt anything off him, did you? Something like the crystals but not quite like them?"

"No, but…" But I had felt something from another person. Someone who spent time with Alec. The last card in my head flipped over. "I know who it is. It's him. That guy."

"Of course," said Carter dryly. "I knew it was that guy. It's always that guy."

"Hold on, and I'll explain." I turned to Jerome. "Remember that funny immortal I told you about? The really romantically dressed good-looking one? He's got to be the one. Alec's supplier. I've seen them talking together and even saw Alec sort of having a breakdown with him. " I added a little more background for Carter's benefit, explaining how GQ Poet Guy and I had sensed each other.

Jerome and Carter considered this in silence. At last, the demon said, "Yes, that sounds like him."

Nobody said anything for a while after that. I was dying to ask who "he" was exactly, but recognized that angel and demon would take their own time on this.

"So what are we going to do?" Carter asked a few minutes later.

Jerome cut him a narrow-eyed glance. "Why do we have to do anything?"