Succubus Revealed

about them, I started to tear up. So . . . yeah. Cynicism was preferable at times. It kept me from getting lost in my own despair.

When my shift ended later in the day, I discovered I wasn’t the only one going home. Grumpy put up a SANTA ON 10-MINUTE BREAK sign, much to the dismay of those waiting in line, and Walter followed me as I headed out to the mall offices. It was hard not to smile at the reaction of kids who just happened to be out shopping with parents and hadn’t come to specifically see Santa. Children came to a standstill, mouths gaping and fingers pointing.

“You’ve been pretty good today,” I told Walter.

“It’s easier when Santa knows he can go out for a drink at dinnertime,” he told me.

I frowned. “Are you going home? Oh. Of course you are. You’ve been here as long as me.” Elves had always moved in and out of shifts, but Santa had stayed constant. Now, with us pulling longer hours, Walter couldn’t be on the clock all the time. “Do you have a replacement?”

He put a finger to his lips and winked at me, refusing to say anything while we were in public. Once we were out of sight, in the administrative offices, I got my answer when we found another Santa sitting in a chair, leafing through a Victoria’s Secret catalog. He looked up at our approach and set the magazine down.

“Is it time?”

Walter nodded and turned to me. “Vixen, do we look the same?”

“Of course,” I said. “You’re both men in red suits and white beards.”

“Look closely,” he scolded. The other Santa rose, and they stood side by side. “Details matter. Anything a child waiting in line might notice when Bob goes out to take my place. Beard alignment, glasses, fit of the coat . . . it all matters. One small detail is all it takes for those kids to realize they’ve been played, that there are two of us.”

“And if they realize that,” added Bob, using the same British accent Walter always did, “then the illusion is over. They’ll know they’ve been tricked, that there is no one, true Santa.”

“Wow, you guys take this seriously,” I said, a little astonished. So, I did a closer assessment, making a few minor adjustments. I straightened Bob’s hat and fixed the way some of his beard’s curls were arranged. At last, I nodded. “You’re good to go.”

Bob looked at Walter expectantly. Walter took off his hat, beard, and glasses, revealing an ordinary-looking man with thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “Only one Santa can exist outside this room,” explained Walter mysteriously, watching Bob go. “It’s part of the magic.”

“This was kind of sweet,” I remarked. Off the clock now, Walter immediately produced a flask from his locker and began guzzling it. I wondered if the two Santas shared the same addiction. “Creepy, but sweet.”

After a wardrobe change of my own and a brief stop home, I eventually made my way to Burt’s Bowling Alley. Roman had chosen it for our immortal league practice. It was also the site of a date he and I had had way back when, during our ill-fated romance. Living with him day to day, coping with the mundane absurdities of roommate life, it was easy to forget about that part of our history. There had been a time when I thought I was falling in love with Roman, though eventually my feelings for Seth had won out. Learning Roman’s true nature—and about his plot to kill Carter—hadn’t helped our fledgling relationship. He’d given all that up, thankfully, but there were times I wondered just how much Roman still cared for me.

There was no sign of our illustrious teacher yet, but Seth was already there, along with Cody, Peter, and Hugh. Seeing me enter, Seth shot me a desperate, grateful look. I could only imagine what conversation he’d been subjected to while trapped with them. As I approached, the four guys’ shirts instantly caught my eye. Seth was wearing a Say Anything T-shirt. That was typical of him. What wasn’t so typical was that my three immortal friends were all wearing identical light blue shirts. Before I could get a good look at them, Cody leaped up and thrust a folded-up blue shirt toward me.

“Here,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what all four of us look like together in these.”

The shirt was a standard bowling style, short-sleeved and button-down. My name was embroidered on the front. Flipping it over, I found THE UNHOLY ROLLERS done in elaborate, flaming letters. I arched an eyebrow.

“Really?” I said. “This is what we’re going with?”

“It’s clever on so many levels,” Peter said excitedly. “It’s a take on ‘holy rollers,’ and then when you think about the fact that we’re rolling balls—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, putting the bowling shirt on over my turtleneck. The size was off a little, and I shape- shifted to adjust it. “I know what the definition of a pun is, Peter. I just didn’t realize we were going with something so . . . blatant.”

“It was either that or the Sinsationals,” said Hugh.

I made a face and settled into the crook of Seth’s arm. “I think you went with the right choice. And at least they’re in a tasteful color.”

Hugh and Cody exchanged pleased, triumphant looks. Peter scowled.

“There’s nothing wrong with pink,” he said. “I think it would have made a statement.”

“Yeah,” said Hugh. “A statement that we’re pansy-asses that Nanette’s team could clean the floor with.”

Peter gave a long-suffering sigh. “Why must you be so insecure about your masculinity? If Georgina had been around when we voted, I bet she would’ve gone with pink too.”

At once, his words reminded all of them of why I’d been gone. Their faces fell. “Is it true then?” said Cody. “You’re leaving?”

“Afraid so,” I told him, attempting cheerfulness I didn’t feel. “Next month, I’m Vegas-bound.”

“But that’s not fair,” Cody protested. “We need you here.”

Hugh gave him a rueful smile. “You haven’t been in this business long enough, kid. ‘Fair’ doesn’t enter into it.”

Cody didn’t like the reference to his lack of experience, but Hugh was right. Cody hadn’t been immortal long enough to go through a transfer or the organizational machinations of HR. Peter and Hugh had, and while they might be sad at the thought of leaving me, they also knew that there were some things you just can’t fight.

“Don’t feel too bad for me,” I said breezily. “Bastien’s working there now. And I’ve already got a job as a dancer.”

“You can’t even get a job here,” pointed out Peter.

“Like a topless dancer?” asked Hugh.

“No,” I said. “But scantily clad in sequins.”

Hugh nodded in approval. “That’ll work.”

Cody was still wearing his heart on his sleeve. His gaze fell on Seth. “Well. I guess one good thing is that with your job, you can live anywhere. Easy enough relocation.”

I didn’t know what Seth’s thoughts on that were exactly, but he managed a brave smile. “We’ll see.” Suddenly all I could think about was my last conversation with Andrea, when we were talking about Seth. He’s the rock supporting us all right now.

An uncomfortably warm feeling spread over me, tinged with the scent of brimstone. The other immortals and I looked up as Jerome entered, trailed by a pensive-looking Roman. I saw my surprise mirrored on my friends’ faces.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said to Jerome, when the father-and-son duo reached us. “I thought you’d made it clear you weren’t part of the team.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyeing the worn leather chairs with disgust. “But seeing as my honor is riding on this so- called team, I figured I’d best make sure you’re on the right track.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence in my abilities,” said Roman, entering our names into the lane’s computer.

“I don’t doubt your abilities,” said Jerome, deigning to sit at last. “But I also know a little encouragement can sometimes go a long way in furthering success.”

“I assume by ‘encouragement,’ you’re referring to your extreme displeasure if we fail,” I noted.

Jerome’s lips twitched. “Exactly, Georgie. Besides, I also wanted to hear—”

Jerome fell silent as his gaze rested on Seth’s T-shirt, depicting John Cusack’s iconic stance with the boom box over his head.

“Nice shirt,” said Jerome at last.