Succubus Revealed

us. “Why don’t you? Why don’t you give it a shot, Pop?” Jerome had been up pacing by the lane but wouldn’t deign to actually touch a ball himself.

“Because it’s not my job,” Jerome retorted.

Roman rolled his eyes. “Then let me do mine.”

While they bickered, I leaned over to Carter. “I need to talk to you. In private. Can you stick around after this?”

Carter had been watching the father–son exchange, but his eyes flicked briefly toward me when I spoke. He gave a small, barely perceptible nod. And when Jerome returned to his seat a few moments later, saying he wanted to leave and drink off his annoyance at the Cellar, Carter declined the offer.

“Nah,” he said lazily, stretching. “I think I’ll see how this pans out. There’s no way Peter can keep throwing splits like that every time. It defies all the rules of physics.”

Peter looked torn on whether he should be flattered or not by that.

“Fine,” said Jerome. “If you’ve got any miracles you can work to help them, now’s the time to cash them in.”

“Noted,” said Carter, waving as Jerome left.

My lesser immortal friends were agitated by our boss’s disapproval, so I focused on the game and didn’t bring anything up with Carter until we finished our practice. Jerome could criticize all he wanted, but Roman really was a good teacher. I think our greatest triumph was when Peter went four frames in a row without a split, thus returning the laws of physics back to their rightful state. True, he didn’t get any strikes or spares either, but by that point, we were all so exhausted that we were willing to take what victories we could.

Roman, Carter, and I let the others leave ahead of us—once I’d promised I would definitely wear my team shirt next time, of course. As soon as we had relative privacy, I explained my problem to Carter. His face grew graver and graver as he listened.

“Daughter of Lilith,” he said when I was done, “you know I can’t interfere.”

“I’m not asking you to,” I said. “Not exactly. I just want to know if you could tell if someone—like a demon— had made Andrea Mortensen sick.”

Carter’s gray eyes were unreadable. “Yes. I can tell.”

“Will you go see her with me and tell me what you sense? That’s it. I’m not asking you to break any rules.” Well, I didn’t think I was. Honestly, I didn’t understand half of these “rules” he was always talking about. “I just need the information.”

“Okay,” he said, after what felt like forever. “I’ll go with you. Giving you that information doesn’t violate anything.”

“I don’t suppose,” said Roman, “that telling us why Hell would do this wouldn’t violate anything either?”

I answered before Carter could. “We already know. To get to me. I’ve pissed somebody off, and they’re going to make me suffer by making those I love suffer.”

“Yeah, but why Andrea?” asked Roman. “I mean, no offense, but there are other ways to hurt you more. Why not make Seth suffer?”

I couldn’t help but scoff. “Well. With this transfer, I kind of feel like he already—” I came to a screeching halt, once I realized what I’d been about to say. Roman was sitting opposite me in one of the worn leather chairs, and from the rabid look in his eyes, I thought he was going to reach over and shake me.

“What?” he demanded. “What did you just think of?”

“Andrea’s sickness is terrible,” I said slowly. “A horrible, unfair thing that could hurt her whole family. But there’s something else. As long as she’s sick, as long as the whole family needs help . . . Seth has to stay with them. He can’t go to Las Vegas with me.”

“And there it is,” said Roman, wonder lighting his eyes. “That’s what this transfer is about. To get you out of Seattle, away from Seth, and to make sure he can’t follow.”

“Eventually . . .” My stomach was twisting again, just like it always did when I thought of people being affected because of me. “Eventually he’d be able to. Andrea will either get better, or . . . or she won’t.”

“Yes, but how long?” demanded Roman. “How long will that take? Long enough for you to fall even more in love with your picture-perfect scenario—the one that they handcrafted for you? Long enough for you to move on with some other artsy introverted mortal? By the time he’s free, it won’t matter.”

I was staring off at Roman but not really seeing him. Jerome had always been annoyed at my relationship with Seth, chastising me for being too attached to a mortal and letting it affect my job. Carter himself had said I was doing something that Hell didn’t like. Was it possible this was it? That all of these forces were moving to keep Seth and me apart?

“If Hell wants me away from Seth, then why not just forbid it?” I asked. “Jerome’s given me a hard time before. Or why not just drop me somewhere . . . anywhere . . . that isn’t here? Why should they care that it’s a place I’ll fall in love with?”

“So that you’ll forget him,” said Roman. “So that you won’t look back. If they ordered you apart, a teenage forbidden romance complex would kick in like that.” He snapped his fingers. “You’d never stop pining for him. But this . . . this is more subtle. And effective.”

“It is,” I agreed, still reeling. “Even after all of Jerome’s criticism, I never thought . . . I never thought Hell would be this upset over me being with a human.”

Roman had no answer for me but lifted his eyes to Carter. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

Carter shrugged, face neutral. “You two have plenty to say. No need for me to chime in.”

“Are we right?” I asked the angel.

“Of course we are,” said Roman. “You’ve always known Hell thought you were too distracted by Seth. This explains everything.”

“Doesn’t explain Erik,” I said.

“Are you sure you have nothing to add?” asked Roman, gaze still on Carter.

“I think we should get to the Mortensens’ before it gets much later,” said Carter mildly. “I’m sure those girls have respectable bedtimes.”

I stood up, knowing we’d get nothing else from him. “I have to drop Roman off at home first. Then we can go over there.”

“How are you going to get me in to see her?” asked Carter. “It’ll be a little weird bringing in a stranger to a sick woman’s bedroom. Do you want me to go invisibly?”

I’d been about to suggest that very thing when a new idea struck me. I gave Carter a once-over. “Have you ever wanted to put on a Santa suit?”

“I have always wanted to do that,” said Carter gravely.

Roman groaned.

Once I explained the situation to Carter, however, he was totally on board. In fact, he told me not to worry about the costume arrangements and promised to meet me at Terry’s in an hour, once I’d had a chance to drop Roman off. As soon as we were in the privacy of the parking lot, Carter vanished into thin air.

“I hope he doesn’t get an outfit from wherever it is he normally does his shopping,” I mused to Roman as we drove. “We don’t want a hobo Santa. Although, if Ian’s there, he’d probably approve and say we were breaking out of the mainstream’s iron grip.”

“Goddamned hipsters,” said Roman. He leaned his head against the car’s window. “You’re rolling the dice a little with Carter, but something tells me he won’t mess this up, not for a bunch of girls with a sick mother. He’s an angel, after all. He’s got to earn his keep somehow.”

“And thank goodness he doesn’t have any hang-ups about Santa being at more than one place at the same time,” I joked. “No space–time contradictions there.”

Roman jerked up so fast, I nearly slammed on the brakes, thinking I was about to hit something. Half a second later, I realized whatever had startled him was in his own head.

“Oh God,” he said.

“What?” I asked, acting like him earlier. “What did you just think of?”

“I think . . . I think I’ve figured this out.” There was awe in his voice.

“What? This mystery we’ve been beating our heads against? We already figured it out.”

Roman shook his head, wide-eyed. “No . . . oh, Jesus. Georgina, if I’m right . . . how do I even prove if I am?”