Succubus Revealed

“ ‘Sacred pact?’ It’s just a job!” I was seriously considering breaking the drinking rule. If I got him tipsy enough, surely he’d agree to what I wanted.

“Not to us, it isn’t,” he told me solemnly. Security finished up their intervention, and the line began moving again, bringing the discussion to a halt before I could point out that last I’d checked, liters of whiskey weren’t part of the “spirit of Santa” either.

I might as well have been Grumpy for the rest of my shift. I appreciated Walter’s dedication to the role, but honestly, it was kind of pushing absurdity.

I stayed at Seth’s place that night, in spite of my earlier plans to talk to Roman about what Kayla had told me. But when I called Seth on my way home, there was just something so sad and strained in his voice that I knew it was more important to be with him. Andrea’s worsening condition had hit him hard. He and I spent the night chastely, but there was a desperation in the way he held me, a sense that I was all that was keeping him going in this madness.

“Oh, Thetis,” he whispered, kissing my cheek as we snuggled in bed. “What am I going to do without you?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said automatically. “I’m still here for a while.”

“I know,” he said. “But then . . .”

Silence. My heart lurched.

“I know,” I said at last. “I know you can’t leave them. It’s okay.”

“At least until she gets better. . . .”

His words faltered for a moment. I could guess his emotions because I shared them. We were both worried about that looming, unspoken fear. That maybe Andrea wouldn’t get better. And the really, really awful thing was that if she didn’t, then eventually, Seth might be able to come to me in Las Vegas. But how could I live with myself knowing what the price of my happiness was?

He finally managed to find his words again. “I understand why you get so frustrated with the universe,” he said. “I’ve never wanted anything so much as I’ve wanted to be with you. I finally got you . . . and now this happens. People talk about throwing everything away for love, but reality doesn’t work out that way. And honestly, if I was the kind of guy who could ignore his family for his own selfish wants . . . well, then, I don’t think I’d be worthy of you. So here we are.”

“It’s okay,” I repeated, forcing more bravery than I felt. “We’ll be fine. They need you. Do what you have to do.”

“Georgina.”

“Seth.” I brushed my lips against his. “This is more important right now.”

“Than us?” he asked.

It took me a long time to answer. But I did.

“Yes.”

The next day I had an early shift at the mall, working with Bob. I attempted the same bargain I had with Walter, in the hopes of arranging a visit to the Mortensen girls, only to be met with the same response. I’d kind of hoped that since Bob wasn’t a blatant alcoholic, he’d be more reasonable. No such luck. He was full of the same nonsense about the magic and integrity of the Santa role.

Fortunately, things improved when I found Roman at home afterward. We had bowling practice that night, but I’d wanted to talk to him in private. My other immortal friends could be coaxed on board with a lot, but as Hell’s hand became more obvious in all of this, I was hesitant to get them involved. Roman didn’t face the same repercussions, and I didn’t mind exposing myself to the wrath of my employers. I was less excited about subjecting my immortal friends to that same wrath on my behalf.

“Did she say anything else about this ‘Darkness’?” Roman wanted to know, once I’d recapped everything for him. “Greater immortal, lesser immortal, outside deity?”

“She doesn’t understand what any of that is,” I said. “She’s only four. Five now, I guess.”

“She needs to understand it,” he said darkly. “You should train her up.”

“With everything else going on in her life? I think that’s the last thing she needs.”

“Not if some supernatural creature is making her mom sick!” Roman perched on the edge of the couch, his sea green eyes both thoughtful and angry. “And let’s face it, Georgina. If something is, I really can’t imagine it’s because the powers that be have singled out that family by random. If something’s targeting Andrea Mortensen, it’s because of her connection to you.”

I felt ill. More consequences, laid at my feet.

“So Andrea suffers because of me,” I said, sinking into a chair. “Wonderful.”

“It’s Hell,” said Roman. “What do you expect? If they want back at you for something, then they’re going to find creative ways to do it.”

“Seems like there are more direct ways to make me ‘pay,’ ” I noted. “Especially seeing as they own the contract on my soul. We’re assuming a lot that this is Hell.”

Roman shrugged. “Not really. We already know they’re interfering with your life. And healing and injuring are specific powers given to angels and demons.”

“Do you think Carter could tell what visited her?” I asked. “If he looked at Andrea?”

“I think he could.” Roman considered for a few moments. “The question is if he would get involved with it at all. You know how he is. Heaven, at least, makes a pretense of playing by the rules.”

I nodded slowly, remembering my last conversation and how reluctant Carter had been to intervene. “True,” I murmured.

“Well,” said Roman, straightening. “You can ask him right now.”

“Huh? How?”

“He’s coming to practice. I overheard him and Jerome talking about it yesterday.”

Apparently, Seth wasn’t the only one with a perverse interest in watching Jerome’s misfits bowl for his honor. I stood up as well.

“Then let’s go. I’ll drive.”

As we headed downstairs, I gave Roman a sidelong look. “Have you ever wondered how you’d look in a white beard and Santa hat?”

Roman returned my look warily. “No, I have not.”

I quickly explained how the Mortensen girls hadn’t seen Santa yet this year. He was already shaking his head before I finished the story.

“Come on, Roman. They need to see Santa. And I know you don’t have any of those hang-ups like Walter does about multiple Santas existing together.”

“Nope,” agreed Roman. “My hang-up is about preserving my dignity, no matter how good the cause. Besides, I don’t feel that guilty. If you really wanted them to see Santa, you could shape-shift and put us all to shame.”

I scowled. It was annoying because it was true.

Roman and I were the last to arrive at the bowling alley, much to my dismay. I’d hoped to speak with Carter privately, but he and Jerome were already deep in conversation (and in their cups). The rest of the Unholy Rollers were waiting anxiously for their leader and gave me no end of grief for not wearing my shirt.

“I forgot,” I said. “It’s no big deal. I’ll wear it for the real game.”

Peter sighed. “But it helps build team solidarity now. And that sense of bonding and closeness will make us better.”

“Actually,” said Jerome, “hitting more pins would make you better.”

“Look,” I told Peter. “If I have to use the bathroom at some point, I’ll shape-shift the shirt on.”

“It’s not the same,” he grumbled.

Fortunately, Jerome’s impatience allowed little time for further debate on the matter. He hadn’t seen how our last practice had ended and was anxious to know if we’d improved. We had, to be fair, but I think Jerome was expecting us to all be throwing strikes every time. When it was clear that wasn’t the case, he grew impatient and angry.

“How can you do that?” he demanded, after Cody made an impressive 9-1 spare. “Why can’t you just hit them all the first time?” He glared at Roman. “Do something.”

Roman eyed his father irritably, not liking his teaching skills questioned, especially since Cody was the best of