Richelle Mead: Succubus Revealed

Peter had settled himself back down and was trying to appear calm. “Fondue is very classy. It’s all in the presentation. Hey! Where’d you get that?”

Carter had set the wine box on his lap, dispenser on top, and was now drinking from it with an enormous straw that I suspected had been literally conjured from thin air.

“At least he’s not doing that with a bottle of Pinot Noir,” I told Peter good-naturedly. I helped myself to a fondue fork and speared a piece of apple. On the other side of Jerome, Hugh busily typed away on his phone’s keyboard, reminding me of the family at the mall. “Telling the world about this lowbrow party?” I teased. Hugh was an imp, a type of hellish administrative assistant, so he could have actually been buying or selling souls via his phone for all I knew.

“Of course,” said Hugh, not looking up. “I’m updating Facebook. Do you know why Roman won’t answer my friend request?”

“No clue,” I said. “I’ve barely spoken to him in days.”

“When I talked to him earlier, he said he had to work tonight,” Peter explained, “but that we should go ahead and draw for him.”

“Draw?” I asked uneasily. “Oh Lord. Tell me it’s not Pictionary night too.”

Peter sighed wearily. “Draw for Secret Santas. Do you even read the e-mails I send?”

“Secret Santas? Seems like we just did that,” I said.

“Yeah, a year ago,” said Peter. “Just like we do every Christmas.”

I glanced over at Carter who was quietly drinking his wine. “Did you lose my hat? You look like you could use one.” The angel’s chin-length, blond hair was even more unkempt than usual.

“Tell us what you really think, Georgina,” he replied. He ran a hand over his hair, but it somehow only made things worse. “I’m saving it for a special occasion.”

“If I get your name again, I’ll buy you two hats so you don’t have to ration yourself.”

“I wouldn’t want you to go to the trouble.”

“No trouble at all. I get a discount at the mall.”

Jerome sighed and set down his fork. “Are you still doing that, Georgie? Don’t I suffer enough without having to endure the humiliation of a succubus who moonlights as a Christmas elf?”

“You always said I should quit the bookstore and find something else to do,” I reminded him.

“Yes, but that was because I thought you’d go on to do something respectable. Like become a stripper or the mayor’s mistress.”

“This is just temporary.” I handed Carter the elegant crystal wineglass that had been sitting by my plate. He filled it with wine from the box and gave it back. Peter groaned and muttered something about despoiling Tiffany’s.

“Georgina doesn’t need material things anymore,” teased Cody. “She’s paid in love now.”

Jerome fixed the young vampire with a cold stare. “Do not ever say anything that saccharine again.”

“You’re one to talk,” I said to Cody, unable to hide my smile. “I’m surprised you could drag yourself away from Gabrielle tonight.” His face immediately grew dreamy at the mention of his ladylove.

“That makes two of us,” observed Peter. He shook his head bitterly. “You guys and your perfect love lives.”

“Hardly perfect,” I said at the same time Cody said, “It is perfect.”

All eyes fell on me. Hugh even looked up from his phone. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Why do you always assume that? And no, of course not,” I scoffed, hating myself for the slip. “Things are fantastic with Seth.”

And they were. Just speaking his name sent a flood of joy through me. Seth. Seth was what made everything worthwhile. My relationship with him was what had caused the rift between me and my former co-workers at the bookstore. They saw me as the reason for his breakup with Doug’s sister. Which, I suppose, I was. But no matter how much I’d loved that job, giving it up was a small price to pay to be with Seth. I could endure being an elf. I could endure the quotas he and I put on our sex life, to ensure my succubus powers didn’t suck him dry. With him, I could handle anything. Even a future of damnation.

There were just a couple of teeny-tiny things about my relationship with Seth that gave me pause. One had been eating at me for a while, one I kept trying to ignore. But now, suddenly, with my immortal friends watching me, I finally drummed up the courage to address it.

“It’s just . . . I don’t suppose any of you told Seth my name, did you?” Seeing Peter open his mouth in confusion, I immediately amended, “My real name.”

“Why would that ever come up?” asked Hugh dismissively, returning to his texting.

“I don’t even know your real name,” said Cody. “Are you saying it’s not Georgina?”

I regretted the words already. It was a stupid thing for me to worry about, and their reactions were just proving that point.

“Do you not want him to know your name?” asked Hugh.

“No . . . it’s fine. I just, well. It’s just weird. A month or so ago, when he was half-asleep, he called me by it. Letha,” I added, for Cody’s benefit. I managed to say the name without tripping over it. It wasn’t a name I welcomed. I’d shed it centuries ago, when I became a succubus, and had been taking assumed names ever since. In banishing that name, I’d banished that former life. I’d wanted to erase it so badly that I’d sold my soul in exchange for everyone I’d known forgetting I existed. That was why the conversation with Seth had totally blindsided me. There was no way he could’ve known that name.

You are the world, Letha . . . he had told me drowsily.

He hadn’t even remembered saying it, let alone where he’d heard it. Don’t know, he’d told me, when I questioned him about it later. Greek myths, I guess. The River Lethe, where the dead go to wash away the memories from their souls . . . to forget the past. . . .

“That’s a pretty name,” said Cody.

I shrugged noncommittally. “The point is, I never told it to Seth. But somehow, he knew it. He couldn’t remember anything about it, though. Where he heard it.”

“He must have heard it from you,” said Hugh, ever practical.

“I never told him. I’d remember if I had.”

“Well, with all the other immortals traipsing through here, I’m sure it came up from one of them. He probably overheard it.” Peter frowned. “Don’t you have an award with your name on it? Maybe he saw that.”

“I don’t really leave my ‘Best Succubus’ award lying around,” I pointed out.

“Well, you should,” said Hugh.

I eyed Carter carefully. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

He paused in drinking from the wine box. “I’m busy.”

“Did you tell Seth my name? You’ve called me it before.” Carter, despite being an angel, seemed to have a genuine affection for us damned souls. And like an elementary school boy, he often thought the best way of showing that affection was by picking on us. Calling me Letha—when he knew I hated it—and other pet names was one such tactic he used.

Carter shook his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, Daughter of Lilith, but I never told him. You know me: model of discretion.” There was a slurping sound as he neared the wine’s end.

“Then how did Seth find out?” I demanded. “How’d he know the name? Someone must have told him.”

Jerome sighed loudly. “Georgie, this conversation is even more ridiculous than the one about your job. You already got your answer: either you or someone else slipped up and doesn’t remember. Why does everything have to be so dramatic for you? Are you just looking for something to be unhappy about?”

He had a point. And honestly, I didn’t know why this had bugged me so much for so long. Everyone was right. There was no mystery here, nothing earth-shattering. Seth had overheard my name somewhere, end of story. There was no reason for me to overreact or assume the worst—only a tiny, nagging voice in my head that refused to forget about that night.