"She's not likely to smite her, if that's what you mean," said Hugh. "Grace and Mei are under the same scrutiny as everyone else, but I bet Mei'll bitch Nanette out."

"Great," said Dante. "A stern talking-to. That'll show her."

"It's unlikely Nanette'll do anything else. If she was going to kill Georgina, she would have already." There was an almost gentle tone in Peter's voice. I think Dante's outrage and concern had convinced the vampire that Dante might not be the complete and total bastard he'd always believed.

My immortal (or not so immortal) friends finally decided I was in reasonable enough condition to leave me in Dante's care. Hugh promised to check on me tomorrow, and I thanked him again for his help. He and the others looked like they wanted to hug me, but with my back, they knew better.

When they were gone, Dante went out to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of ice cream. "Good for what ails you," he said.

I was surprised to discover I had a considerable appetite. Judging from the time, I'd been out quite awhile before Mei had shown up. It had only felt like a few seconds.

"Careful," I teased. "People are going to think you're a nice guy."

"Well, I'll have to go rob some orphans to save my reputation."

He lay in bed beside me, curled on his side so that he could gently keep his hand on my arm and talk to me. As the evening passed, our conversation mostly touched on inconsequential things, topics to distract me from Seattle's increasingly dangerous situation. Finally, when it came time for both of us to sleep, Dante brought up the attack again.

"Succubus…who was here earlier?"

I knew he didn't mean Hugh and the vampires. I frowned. Even with Mei's healing, my memories were sketchy. "I don't know. But I think…I think it might have been Carter."

"Really? I still can't believe that angel hangs out with you guys. But if it was him, why didn't he heal you? He could have fixed everything."

Through the fog of that ordeal, I recalled my rescuer's words. I can't heal you .

"Because he's not supposed to interfere," I said slowly, remembering my earlier rumination on whether blowing up a stove was interference. "Heaven's supposed to stay out of this. He probably shouldn't have even carried me to bed-which is why he would have then gotten out of here and left it to Hugh to patch me up."

"An angel breaking the rules and a demon healing the sick," Dante said. "You and your associates just get more and more fucked up."

I shifted slightly, cautious of my back, and rested my head against him. "That's for damned sure."

The sweet scent of a white chocolate mocha woke me from a heavy sleep the following morning. For a few moments, as I stirred to consciousness, it was like waking up any other day. Then, as I opened my eyes and shifted position, my body's nerves came to life, reminding me what had happened yesterday. It wasn't the horrible torturous pain I'd experienced before, but I had enough aches and soreness to dissuade me from too much movement. Still, I managed to more or less sit up when Dante entered my bedroom.

He held the mocha in one hand and what looked like a bakery bag tucked under his arm. In the other hand, he carried an enormous vase of blue and white hydrangeas, interspersed with orchids. I never would have pictured those particular flowers going together, but the arrangement worked.

"Did you rob a florist?" I asked.

Dante gave me a withering look as he handed me the mocha. "Why are you assuming the worst again?"

"Because orchids aren't cheap," I said.

"They were out of crab grass, so I had to settle." He gently placed the vase on my dresser and then freed the bakery bag. "And I beat up some kids for these."

After a long, delicious sip, I set the mocha on my bedside table and took the bag from him. Inside were chocolate croissants-my favorite kind of breakfast pastry.

"All this because I got beat up?" I asked.

He sat on the side of the bed. "I'm worried about you."

"I should get in fights with demons more often," I teased, my last few words getting muffled as I bit into a croissant. Tiny flakes and crumbs fell onto my sheets, but I didn't care.

"Not funny, succubus," he said. And to my surprise, I could see that he meant it. None of his usual sardonic humor showed on his face. There was no bitter twist to his lips. "That's never happening again. And I'm going to make sure you get better, immortal healing or not."

"Never took you for a nursemaid."

"Be quiet," he snapped. "And keep eating. Your body needs calories to heal."

Happy to oblige, I started to take another bite and then froze. "Do you think I might start putting on weight?" Calories were nothing I'd ever had to count before. I'd feared neither weight gain nor health effects from the things I ate.

"I think that's the least of your worries."

I supposed he was right. I kept eating-but with a little less enthusiasm. He still looked so serious and worried that I couldn't shake my warm and fuzzy feelings. "Thank you for all of this. It's really great."

He smiled at me, and his gray eyes were lovely in the morning light. "Not many people in this world I feel deserve my help. You're in an exclusive club."

I started to make a comment about how the rest of the club members must be imaginary, but there had already been too much snark this morning. Nanette's attack had seriously shaken Dante up.

"Thank you," I said again. A thought struck me. "I might have some other way for you to help. Will you grab my purse?"

He retrieved it from the living room and handed it over. Reaching inside, I was relieved to see the photo that I'd swiped from Mary was still there. I studied it for a moment, willing the medallion to yield some sort of revelation. All I saw was a translucent brown disc and runes or symbols that could easily be mistaken for a child's scribbles. With a sigh, I handed it to him.

"Does this mean anything to you?"

His brows knit thoughtfully as he looked it over. "No. Should it?"

"I think it might be part of Jerome's summoning. Remember when I asked you about an artist who carved quartz? This is what I turned up. Supposedly, the stone and marks are clues, but I don't know what they are. I guess that's where I need people like you or Erik."

He gazed at the picture for several more moments, and to my surprise, I saw anger building in his features. Abruptly, he stood up and tossed the picture on the floor.

"Son of a bitch," he growled.

"What's the matter?" I exclaimed.

"This," he said, gesturing at me and the fallen picture. "This is the matter. What good am I, succubus? I'm ten times more powerful than those people I sent you to go see. Aside from Lancaster, there's probably no one else in this fucking town who knows as much about the arcane as I do. And what good is it?" He paced around my room and ran his hand angrily through his hair. "Nothing. That's what it's good for. I can't seem to help you. I can't do a goddamned thing. I couldn't save you from that demoness. And I don't know anything about this medallion thing."

I was stunned by his reaction. "Hey, whoa. It's okay. Sit down. Don't beat yourself up."

"It's not okay." He came to a halt. "I feel…powerless." For someone who'd spent his life doing horrible things in the quest for power, I could recognize what a hard admission that was.

"You're not obligated to do anything here," I said gently. "You help me more than you realize. But this isn't your fight. This isn't your responsibility."

" You're my responsibility," he said. "If I can't look out for you, then why do you need me?"

"I'm not with you for what you can do for me."