Richelle Mead: Succubus Dreams

"Mentor," I repeated flatly.

He nodded, looking sympathetic. Jerome watched our exchange with amusement.

"What, um, does that mean for me exactly?"

Hugh set his briefcase on a coffee table and pulled out what looked like the kind of copied-and-bound manual Kinko's would run off. He tossed it to me. I caught it and nearly keeled over. The thing had about eight-hundred pages.

Mentor's Official and Complete Procedural Handbook on Initial Succubus Intake and Probationary Period (Abridged).

"Abridged?" I spun toward Jerome. "Tell me you're getting back at me for the time I accused you of wearing Old Spice."

"That one's still coming," said the demon. "This one's for real."

"I can't do this, Jerome. I don't have the time! Do you know how much stuff I've got going on? I'm still training the new assistant manager at work—"

He stood up with speed a vampire might have admired. He leaned toward me, the amusement gone from his face.

"Oh gee, Georgie. How inconsiderate of me to take you away from your human boyfriend and your crucial-to-the-world bookstore job and all the other fucking absurdity in your life! Let me just go ahead and tell my superiors that you've got more important things to do than answer to the powers who control your immortal soul and could wipe out your existence in the blink of an eye."

Heat flooded my cheeks. I didn't really appreciate being verbally bitch-slapped in front of Niphon and Seattle's entire dream team of evil. "I didn't mean it like that. I just—"

"It's not up for debate any longer." His words crawled over my skin.

I swallowed. "Yes, Jerome." Even I knew when to back down.

Silence fell. A smirk played over Niphon's face. "A human boyfriend. How terribly quaint. I can't wait to hear all about it."

"I think it's cute," said Tawny. "I hope you're making him suffer."

"Their romance is a great tale of self-exploration," remarked Hugh, straight-faced.

I shot him a glare. As a sexual workaround, Seth and I found we could do unto ourselves what we couldn't do to each other. I'd never actually told my friends about this solution, but they'd kind of figured it out.

With the drama complete, the rest of the room lost interest in me. Tawny did not, however, and immediately began talking to me about the joys of ripping out men's hearts and watching them cry. I left her as quickly as I could, working the room and talking to those I hadn't seen in a while. I was good at smiling and making people laugh while all the while, my mind spun and processed this new complication. When I finally found Cody, Peter, and Hugh huddled in a corner, I breathed a sigh of relief. I could tell from the looks on their faces that this was the most hilarious thing they'd seen in a while.

Cody, young for a vampire but ancient compared to Tawny, threw an arm around me. His shaggy blond hair was tamed into a short stub of a ponytail. He was perpetually laidback and upbeat, and his "youth" always made the rest of us want to baby him. "Oh, man. This is going to be great. You are so screwed."

"As if," I said, squirming away. "You think I'm afraid of her?"

"I am," said Peter with a shiver. He had thinning brown hair and wore casual yet exquisitely coordinated clothes, all the way down to his argyle socks. He was an old vampire, close to my age, and was Cody's mentor. I'd never thought much about their mentor-apprentice relationship before. It always seemed pretty effortless, but then, Cody was no Tawny.

I followed Peter's gaze to where the new succubus animatedly told a story to a stone-faced demoness named Grace. From the dangerous jiggling of Tawny's breasts, it looked as though the structural integrity of her shirt could only last so long.

"I don't think you're afraid," said Hugh slyly. "I think you're jealous."

"Of what exactly? Bad fashion sense? An ergonomically unsound bustline? I have nothing to be jealous of."

"Whatever. I saw your face when you heard we were getting a new succubus. Looks like someone isn't going to be the only girl in our little clique anymore."

"So?"

"So, we'll have a new little sister to fawn and fret over. You'll have to share the spotlight."

"I'm not sharing anything," I said huffily.

Peter laughed. "So it does bother you. Can't wait until the fur starts flying."

"Her fate is in your hands," said Cody.

"You should make her call you ‘Miss Georgina,'" added Hugh with a mocking southern drawl. "Or at least ‘ma'am.'"

Niphon's presence and Jerome's lecture had put me in a grouchy mood. "I'm not doing any mentoring. She's so gungho to take on the world's male population, she doesn't even need me."

The three men exchanged more smirks. Cody made some hissing and meowing sounds, scratching at the air.

"This isn't funny," I said.

"Sure it is," said Cody. "Besides, don't you want to help others? Where's your sense of goodness and charity?"

"I think I cashed that in when I, you know, sold my soul to Hell."

Peter waved his hand. "Details, details. 'Tis the season to put aside petty rivalries and animosity. You've got to get into the holiday spirit. You probably haven't even put up your Christmas tree yet."

"I'm not getting a tree this year."

The smile slipped from Peter's face. "What?"

"Oh, shit. You've done it now," said Hugh. "I already got lectured earlier for not having one."

"You're a Scrooge," Peter told him while still looking at me. "No one expects that kind of festive cheer from you. But Georgina…didn't you have a Christmas tree last year?"

"Yeah. Somebody burned it down. At my Christmas Eve Martini Party."

"I was there," said Peter. "I don't remember that."

"You were drunk. You'd already passed out."

"What kind of sick bastard burns down a Christmas tree?"

Hugh and I exchanged glances. "That's an excellent question," I said dryly.

Peter looked startled. "Was it you?" he asked Hugh.

"No," said the imp. "It was Carter."

"Your Christmas tree was burned down by an angel?" asked Cody. He hadn't been with our group last December, so this was all new to him. And Peter too, apparently.

"Yup. The irony isn't lost on me," I said. "He had his ashtray too close to where a branch was hanging down."

"Well, I think he did you a favor," said Hugh. "You can get a fake one now. They're easier. No watering. No woodland animals. Besides, you can get them to match your décor. Did you notice Peter's is ‘pissed-off ocean green'?"

Peter sighed. "It's ‘jaded sea green.'"

I followed their gazes to Peter's monstrosity of a Christmas tree. Nine feet of perfectly shaped needles draped in gold tinsel and red glass ornaments. Everything on it coordinated. In fact, I suddenly realized, it matched Peter's outfit. The tree looked like a display model from a department store. The green in the multicolored bejeweled star on top even seemed to bring out the blue in the ‘jaded sea green.'

"At least you don't have an angel on top," I said. "Because that would have been kind of wrong. And possibly a fire hazard."

"Joke all you want," the vampire said, "but you have to have a Christmas tree. Oh, yeah—you also have to draw a name for Secret Santas."

I groaned. "Are we doing that again?"

"Let me go get the cup," he said, trotting to the other side of the kitchen.

I looked at the other two. "A vampire obsessed with Christmas. That has to be the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"No weirder than an angel burning down a Christmas tree," pointed out Cody.

Peter returned with a reindeer mug that held a few folded pieces of paper. He held it out to me. "Not many left. Pick."

I pulled out a slip and opened it. Carter.

"Son of a bitch," I swore. "I hate Christmas."

"You do not," said Peter. "You just have to get a tree. Then you'll feel better."