"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."
My eyes drifted from the star, down to Tawny and Niphon. "What I have to do is get out of here," I told them, setting my glass on the counter.
I made my good-byes to them and endured a bit more teasing about my new mentoring job. As I walked to the door, I overheard Jerome saying to Grace, "...but I'll be out of town for a few days."
I suddenly realized I needed to ask him something. "Hey, Jerome."
He turned from the demoness, shooting me an impatient look. In as few words as possible, I recapped how I'd woken up without the energy I'd stolen the previous night. Jerome listened, looking bored.
"What'd you do last night? Bursts of shape-shifting? Rocket science? Heavy lifting?"
I didn't need him to tell me what sorts of things would burn through my energy. "I didn't do any of those things. I just slept. I did dream, though."
"Dreams only suck the life out of humans, not us," he remarked dryly. "It's what keeps Hell in business." Seeing my expression, he sighed. "It's probably nothing, Georgie. Mental exhaustion'll do it. You probably spent the whole night unconsciously wrestling with sexual temptation."
I didn't appreciate his flippant answer, but there was nothing I could do about it. I left the party, driving home at a reasonable speed limit this time. As soon as I cleared the door, I tossed that ridiculous manual to the floor. It landed with a ground-shaking thump that made my cat Aubrey puff up her tail.
"Sorry," I mumbled, scratching her black-speckled head in consolation.
Traipsing to the bedroom, I promptly dialed Seth on my cell phone.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey. You have to come over here tonight."
A pause. "Well, I could, but..."
"Oh, come on! You won't believe what I just went through. We're getting another succubus."
He paused again. "I'm not really sure how to respond to that."
"Respond by getting your ass over here. I need you."
"Thetis...I'm so close to the end here. Four chapters away. And I got this idea while we were having breakfast..."
I groaned. Cady and O'Neill had defeated me again. Before actually meeting Seth, I'd worshipped him from afar as a literary genius, reading his novels over and over. Now I knew the dark truth about being a bestselling author's girlfriend.
Hearing my silence, he reluctantly added: "But, I mean, if you really need me..."
"No, no. Don't worry about it. It's okay."
"You don't sound like it's okay. I know how women work. You say that, then you'll hold a grudge against me forever. Literally."
"No, really. It's fine. I'll be seeing you tomorrow anyway. Besides, as soon as I get out of this dress, I'm just going to pass out anyway." No way was I starting that procedural tome.
"You're wearing a dress?"
"Yup."
"You weren't wearing one earlier. What's it look like?"
I started laughing. "Ooh...are you trying to have phone sex with me?"
"Phone sex? Hardly. We haven't even had a phone first date."
"It's not that hard. You see, I tell you how the dress has a really low neckline with nothing underneath. Then, you tell me how you'll reach out and peel it off and stroke my - "
"Oh my God. No. We are not doing this."
Typical Seth. He could write sex scenes that set the page on fire or dialogue clever enough to impress even me. Make him vocalize any of it, and he choked up. He was shy around others, fearful in large groups, and much happier staying an unnoticed listener. I sympathized but sometimes had trouble really comprehending it, considering how often I became the center of attention. I liked to think he'd improved a bit since we got together, but he had a long way to go.
"It just takes practice. Here, I'll help you. Picture it. I'm getting on my knees and slowly unfastening your pants - "
"Okay, look. If you really want to go through with this, I'd be happy to, you know, go get on my computer and IM it..."
"Oh good grief. Go work on your book."