What was I going to do? We had five hours until the meeting, which couldn't come soon enough as far as I was concerned. I needed answers now . I couldn't live with this uncertainty. My heart started racing again. Fuck. I really was going to have a heart attack. Hugh was a doctor in his day job; maybe I should call him about my blood pressure.

Call…

An idea hit me then, and I stood up to go find my purse. Producing my cell phone, I dialed Dante. If anyone might know about this, it would be him. He probably wouldn't know the intricacies of how this affected my infernal standing, but he had to know something about demon summoning. Dark magic was his specialty. Besides, I wanted more than just his expertise. I suddenly just wanted…well, comfort. I wanted to see him. I wanted him to hold me and reassure me. I needed him to tell me everything was going to be okay.

But the phone rang and rang without answer, sending me to his voice mail's friendly message: "Talk."

So much for that plan. I disconnected and leaned against my counter. Slowly, steadily, I felt my brain waking up, trying to find a scrap of reason through my fear. It wasn't in my nature to be passive. I had to do something about this. I couldn't wait until tonight for answers.

"Let's research this ourselves, Aubrey," I said. The average human knew nothing about the true nature of Heaven and Hell and how we operated. Yet, every once in a while, if you looked hard enough into arcane writings, you could stumble across a piece of truth that some adept mortal had uncovered. Ninety-nine percent of what I'd find would be inaccurate, but an Internet search could uncover some grain of truth about demon summoning. It was a total long shot, but it was the best I could do for now.

Only, when I went to get my laptop, I discovered an unfortunate fact: I'd left it at the bookstore. I groaned. Now what? Another plan shot down.

You idiot , a voice inside me chastised. You're a few blocks away. Get off your ass and get it .

That logic made perfect sense, of course. Until I looked out the window.

The same fear I'd had earlier returned. The cars moving along Queen Anne Avenue seemed too fast, the wind stirring the trees too strong, the people on the sidewalk too dangerous. How could I go out there? How could I put myself at risk? Better to stay in here where it was safe.

And yet…how could I wait around? I was going to go crazy if I sat here. Glancing down at Aubrey, I saw her watching me with her green eyes. She had that infinitely wise look cats had sometimes. It wasn't exactly encouraging, but it soothed me a little.

Okay. I could do this.

I found my coat and started to shape-shift my messy hair into a neat arrangement-except, of course, I immediately realized I couldn't shape-shift it. Not a problem, I assured myself. I did my hair all the time when I wasn't in a rush. This was no different. With a quick dash to the restroom, I brushed my hair into a sleek ponytail and prepared to face the world.

Stepping outdoors, I was blasted with stimuli. I stood on the steps to my building, shell-shocked and unable to move. This had never happened to me. Never, never had I been afraid of the world. I'd always rejoiced in it and been eager to see what it had to offer. Slipping my hand into my purse, I reached for my cigarettes, seeking them like a safety blanket. When I took them out, I realized something else. I wasn't necessarily immune to them anymore. This stasis probably wouldn't last long…but how could I risk it? How could I expose myself to carcinogens when I had no idea how vulnerable I truly was?

Putting the cigarettes back, I took a deep breath and plunged forward.

The distance to the store was barely three blocks, but it felt like miles. I walked as far away as I could from traffic and flinched each time someone passed me. When I finally reached the intersection to cross over to Emerald City, I was sweating. Queen Anne Avenue is not an overly crazy road. This particular spot had three lanes and steady traffic, with a moderate speed of 30 (which meant people could usually be found going 35–40).

Nonetheless, standing there, I might as well have been trying to cross I-5 itself, with five lanes racing in each direction. The crosswalk was red, giving me time to build up courage and remind myself that I'd crossed here hundreds of times-jaywalking more often than not. I was being irrational, freaking out at things I had no business worrying about. The light dinged and gave me the go-ahead.

I set out, each step agony. I'd almost reached the far curb when a Honda turning on red from the cross street suddenly pulled into the intersection, having only checked for cars and not pedestrians. Seeing me, the driver slammed on her brakes a bit more harshly than she probably needed. They squealed, and the car came to a stop about two feet from me. While moderately alarming, this wasn't anything that probably would have scared me too much under ordinary circumstances. The car had stopped, after all, and I was almost across anyway. Yet, I was so on edge already that when I heard the brakes and saw how close she was, I simply froze. I stood there, caught-literally-in the headlights.

I couldn't think or move. It was so stupid. Seven more steps, and I would have been safe. The woman's panic over avoiding me turned to annoyance when she realized I was blocking her way. She pressed down on her horn, which was a particularly loud and obnoxious one. Unfortunately for her, it was ineffectual. If anything, the noise simply froze me up more.

Suddenly, someone grabbed a hold of my arm and started tugging me to the curb. The bitch in the Honda kept honking, and I think I was nearly as startled by it as I was when Seth yelled to her, "Oh, shut up already!"

His steady hands guided me to the sidewalk where I promptly froze up again, oblivious to the curious cars and pedestrians. Cupping my face, he forced me to look up at him. His eyes were like warm molasses, and something about them spread comfort through me and brought me back to myself.

"Georgina, are you okay?"

My whole body trembled, and it took me a moment to gather myself and speak. "I…I think so…"

His voice was so, so gentle when he spoke. "What happened there?"

I blinked back tears. "Nothing…that is…" I couldn't finish. I was going to break down, then and there, right on Queen Anne Avenue. I hated myself for being so weak and scared.

"Never mind," said Seth, taking hold of my arm again. "It doesn't matter. You're safe. Let's go inside."

If any of my co-workers saw Seth leading me through like an invalid, I didn't notice. In fact, I was barely aware of the trek at all until we were inside my office. Seth sat me down and then shut the door. He leaned down toward me.

"Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?"

Slowly, almost robot-like, I shook my head. "N-no. I…I just came for my laptop."

The normal look of timidity he'd worn around me lately had vanished, replaced by something stern and concerned-something that wouldn't rest until he knew I was okay. He was no longer the shy author who feared looking at me and always gave me a wide berth. He was once again the man I'd dated, the man who'd always been able to read my moods and step up to help.

"Georgina, please. Please tell me what happened."

It looked as though my tears were going to stay away, and now that I was indoors, in familiar territory, I allowed myself to feel a little braver. "Why are you being so nice to me again?"

He frowned. "Why wouldn't I be nice to you?"

"Because…because…I wasn't very nice to you the last time we talked. Even after you gave me the book."

He made a noise in his throat, almost like a laugh, but not quite. "You weren't yourself, not after all those drinks. It's fine."

"I don't know," I said contrarily, "maybe I was myself."