He left, and I stared at the door for a long time before finally forcing my feet to start moving. The Seth soul-selling offer held no temptation for me whatsoever. That didn't trouble me. But his other words…the reminders of my past…

I sighed. I didn't want to deal with that, not with everything else going on in my life right now. And speaking of which…with two hours left until work, I decided to bite the bullet and again try to get more information about my dreams. From Dante.

His store looked as bleak as the last time I'd visited, but this time, he actually had a customer. She was a young woman, college-aged maybe, with layered brown hair and a gray sweatshirt. Seeing her, I started to step back outside, but he waved me in.

"No, no, it's okay. You can wait here." Dante glanced at the girl. Both of them sat at the shabby, velvet-covered table. "You don't mind, do you?"

She barely spared me a glance. "No! No! Hurry, go on. I want to hear more about the man."

Dante produced a dazzling grin that seemed a bit fake to me but which I suspected was actually very effective on her. Taking a step closer, I realized he was reading her Tarot cards. Several already lay on the table. He flipped another over.

"Ah, the Hierophant." His voice held a mysterious, knowing note.

"What's that mean?" she squealed.

"You don't know? You don't know anything about these?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Well, the Hierophant is a great love card. It represents a romantic man, someone good-looking and charming who loves giving gifts and doing small gestures. You know the kind."

"I don't, actually," she said wistfully. "All my boyfriends have been jerks."

"Well, that's going to change," he promised.

I knew quite a bit about Tarot cards, actually. The Hierophant represented tradition, wisdom, and organized religion. He wasn't exactly a romantic figure, particularly considering he was usually depicted as a priest.

"Why is he dressed so weird?" asked the girl. "He looks like he's in robes."

"It's not weird," Dante said. "It's opulent. Remember, the Tarot is an ancient system. A guy dressed like this represented the height of fashion back in the old days. You know, a real designer label kind of guy."

I caught Dante's gaze and rolled my eyes. He maintained his poker face and flipped the next card.

"Things are looking good," he declared. "The Tower."

The Tower was pretty much the worst card in the deck.

"This shows you guys have a promising future."

"Why is it on fire?" she asked. "And why are people falling out of the windows?"

"It's all symbolic," he said hastily. "And although things look really good for when you meet this guy, it means you have to be cautious and read the signs around you."

"Oh, wow," she said. "I hope I can."

Dante gathered up the cards and stacked them neatly. "Well, I can help if you want. I could give you a package set of readings at a discount. That way, you'll have a guide as you go along. You'll be prepared for when you meet him."

I sincerely doubted she was ever going to meet this mythical guy.

"How much?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hmm, let's see." Dante turned speculative. "Well, they're normally fifty dollars. Usually, I give a five-dollar discount for packages…but, hell. I really want to see this work. I'm a romantic myself, you know? It's a stretch, but I'll do a set of six for forty dollars each. You can buy them now and then come in whenever you want to claim them."

The girl deliberated, and I wanted to yell at her that it was a scam. But I needed Dante's advice and didn't want to get on his bad side. Not that I was necessarily on his good side right now.

"I don't want to pressure you," he told her gently. "So, please. Don't feel obligated. Just do whatever your heart tells you to do. I mean, if the cards have told us anything, it's that you have to protect your heart now as you enter this important stage of your life."

That sold her. "Okay. I'll do it."

I watched in disbelief as the two of them walked to his register. She handed over two-hundred-forty dollars—plus tax—and he gave her a Tarot punch card, not unlike what you'd get at a coffee or sandwich shop.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," I told him when she was gone.

"Succubus. Nice to see you too."

"That wasn't a romance reading."

"Nope," he agreed, coming over to stand beside me. "It actually suggested she'd soon be having a sex change and joining a suicide cult."

"But you told her it was about love."

"She's twenty years old. Love's all they want to hear about at that age."

"You're going to Hell."

"I could have told you that. In fact, I did tell you that last time, didn't I? Now. What can I do for you? You change your mind about the sex?"

"No. Of course not."

He looked offended. "Of course not? What's with the attitude? I'm not that unappealing."

"No," I agreed. He looked like he still hadn't shaved in a couple days, and there was something very sexy about that and the way his indigo T-shirt fit him. I hadn't realized before what nice ab muscles he had. Probably the lack of business around here gave him lots of time to work out. "But that's not why I'm here. And honestly, if this behavior is just the tip of the iceberg, I'm thinking your soul isn't going to be worth my time anyway."

He threw his hands in the air. "She comes and insults me, then expects help. So what is it you want? Your dishwasher finally break?"

"No, but I had the dream again. And there was more."

I recapped it, and he listened, face unreadable.

"You sure you don't want a new dishwasher?" he asked dubiously.

"No!"

"What about kids?"

"What about them?"

"You want them?"

I fell silent, and despite his lopsided smile, I could see Dante scrutinizing me. He might be a con artist, but he was smart. The best ones always are. People like him make their living reading people and exploiting little things—like that girl's longing for romance.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "You know that. I can't have them."

"I didn't ask that, succubus. I asked if you wanted them."

I averted my eyes, studying the crystal ball. With the way the sunlight hit it, I suspected it was actually plastic.

"Sure. I did even when I was mortal. If I could have kids now, I would."

He nodded, and for the first time, I got the impression he might almost be taking me seriously. Almost. "And let me guess. You woke up without energy."

"Yes, and I'd gotten a victim the night before. Just like last time."

His face turned speculative. "Interesting. It only happens when you're charged up."

"What do you think it means?"

"Dunno. Might not mean anything."

"It has to! I'm losing energy for no reason at all."

"You're stressed," he argued. "And you're, like, one of the most uptight people I've ever met—immortal or otherwise. You've spent centuries wishing you could get knocked up. You have this celibate boyfriend thing going on. And you work for that demon, right? The one who looks like Matthew Broderick?"

"John Cusack," I corrected. "He looks like John Cusack."

"Whatever. That's enough to tax anybody. Your dreams are manifestations of the woes in your life, coming out of your subconscious in vivid, energy-sucking ways."

"You are so unhelpful. Your dream expertise is a scam—like everything else."

"Nah. Not everything I do is a scam. I know dreams. I know spells. And I know what could help you."

"What?"

He pointed to the counter. "You and me. Up there. Naked. Horizontal."

I groaned. "Wow, you really weren't lying. You are a romantic."

"A pragmatist. And an opportunist."

"A sleazy guy, treating me like a cheap whore…"

"Fuck, I haven't been laid in months, and now this succubus shows up wanting my help. You'd try to bargain for sex too."