“No. The only clothing of his I’ve seen is his boxers.”
“Ah. Well, it must be in the living room. It looks like it came from a thrift store but probably cost four figures.” He sighed. “Although, I shouldn’t be too hard on him. I mean, yeah, he’ll probably hit me up for money while he’s here, but I can’t knock him and Mom coming out to help. At the very least, they can help watch the kids now.”
I wrapped my arms around Seth and breathed in his scent. It was the right one, and it was intoxicating. “And you can catch up on some writing.”
“Maybe,” he said. “We’ll see how it goes. I just hope I’m not babysitting Mom and Ian more than the girls.”
“How bad of an impression did I make on her?” I asked.
“Not that bad. I mean, no worse than any woman—scantily clad or otherwise—would’ve made who was spending the night with me.” He kissed my forehead. “She’s not so bad. Don’t be fooled by her conservative Midwest grandma act. I think you guys will get along.”
I wanted to ask if Maddie had met Margaret and, if so, how they’d gotten along. I bit my tongue on the question. It didn’t matter. It was in the past, and Seth and I were the present. Sometimes, especially staying here as much as I did, I felt a little weird remembering that Maddie had lived with him too. There were still little touches here and there that bore the mark of her influence. For example, Margaret was most likely staying in Seth’s office, which had a futon, courtesy of Maddie’s ingenuity. She’d been the one to suggest he get it to help make the office double as a guestroom. Maddie had gone; the futon had stayed.
I tried not to think about those things very often, though. In the big picture, they didn’t matter. Seth and I had come through too much for me to get hung up on something like that. We’d overcome the problems in our relationship. I’d accepted his mortality and his decision to risk his life by being physical with me. True, I still rationed our sex life, but the fact that I allowed it at all was a big concession for me. Meanwhile, he accepted the terrible truth that I was often out sleeping with other men in order to sustain my existence. They were difficult things for us both, but they were worth it for us to be together. Everything we’d gone through was worth it.
“I love you,” I told him.
He placed a soft kiss on my lips and pulled me closer. “I love you too.” Then, in an echo of my thoughts, he added, “You make it all worthwhile. All this stuff I’m dealing with.... I can do it because you’re in my life, Thetis.”
Thetis. That was his longtime nickname for me, coming from the shape-shifting goddess in Greek mythology who’d been won by a steadfast mortal. He called me that all the time—and Letha, only once. I thought again about that night. The troubled feelings it stirred never seemed to go away, but I once again tried to force them aside. It was another of those little things that I was trying not to let bug me. It was nothing compared to the greatness of our love, and like my friends had said, Seth had probably overheard the name.
I fell into a contented sleep, only to be awakened abruptly around dawn. My eyes flew open, and I sat upright. Seth shifted and rolled over but wasn’t awakened by my sudden movement. I stared around the room, my heart racing. I’d been jolted out of sleep by an immortal presence, one I didn’t know. It had felt demonic.
There was nothing here now, visible or invisible, but I knew for a fact some servant of Hell had just been in the room. This wasn’t the first time I’d had unwelcome visitors in my sleep, often ones with nefarious intentions. Of course, I’d felt this demon just now, and demons—being higher immortals, not a lesser human-turned-immortal like me—could mask their immortal signature. If he or she had wanted to sneak around or hurt me unannounced, it could have done so. Whoever this was hadn’t cared about discovery.
I slipped out of bed and continued studying the room, looking for some sign or reason for the demon’s passage. I was certain there would be one. There. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of red—in my purse. There was a business envelope sitting on top of it. I hurried over and scooped up the envelope. It was warm to my touch, but as I quietly opened it, I began to feel cold. That feeling intensified as I pulled out a letter printed on official Hell stationery. No good could come of this.
Sunset had filtered more than enough light into the room to read by. The letter was addressed to Letha (alias: Georgina Kincaid), from Hell’s HR:
This is the thirty-day notice for your trans fer. Your new assignment will begin on January 15. Please make travel arrangements to leave Seattle and report to your new location in a timely manner.
Chapter 3
The crisp paper with its laser printing was a lot different from scrawling script on vellum, but I knew an official transfer letter when I saw one. I’d received dozens in the last millennia, in various forms, pointing me on to new assignments and locations. The last one had come to me while I was in London fifteen years ago. From there, I’d moved here to Seattle.
And now this one was telling me it was time to move on yet again.
To leave Seattle.
“No,” I breathed, far too soft for Seth to hear. “No.”
I knew this letter was legitimate. It wasn’t a forgery. It wasn’t a joke sent on Hell’s stationery. What I was praying for was that this official transfer order had just been sent to me in error. The letter had no information about my next assignment because, per protocol, employees were usually briefed by their archdemons before a transfer. The letter then came afterward, to make the termination of the old job and start of the new one official.
I’d seen my archdemon less than twelve hours ago. Surely, surely, if this was real, Jerome could have brought himself to at least mention it. The transfer of a succubus would be a big deal for him. He’d have to juggle both the fallout of losing me and gaining someone else. But, no. Jerome hadn’t behaved as though he had a major personnel change coming. He’d said nothing to even hint about it. One would think this would have trumped his bowling league just a little.
I realized I was holding my breath and forced myself to start breathing again. A mistake. Whoever had sent this had clearly made a mistake. Lifting my eyes from the paper, I focused on Seth’s sleeping form. He was sprawled in his usual way, with his limbs all over the bed. Light and shadow played across his face, and I felt tears spring to my eyes as I studied those beloved features.
Leaving Seattle. Leaving Seth.
No, no, no. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t cry because there was nothing to cry about. This was a mistake. It had to be because there was no way the universe could be this cruel to me. I had already gone through too much. I was happy now. Seth and I had fought our battles to be together. We’d finally achieved our dream. That couldn’t be taken away from me, not now.
Can’t it? A nasty voice in my head pointed out the obvious. You sold your soul. You’re damned. Why should the universe owe you anything? You don’t deserve happiness. You should have this taken away from you.
Jerome. I had to talk to Jerome. He would sort this out.
I folded the letter four times and stuffed it into my purse. Grabbing my cell phone, I headed for the door and shape-shifted on a robe. I managed to slip out of the room without a sound, but my victory was short-lived. I’d hoped to be able to sneak outside, past Ian in the living room, and call Jerome in privacy. Unfortunately, I never made it that far. Both Ian and Margaret were up and awake, forcing me to stop middial.
Margaret stood in the kitchen cooking something on the stove while he sat at the kitchen table. “Mom,” he was saying, “it doesn’t matter what the water-to-coffee ratio is. You can’t make an Americano out of drip. Especially with that Starbucks crap Seth buys.”