Succubus Revealed Page 0,2

clock for my main job: being a succubus in the illustrious service of Hell. Centuries of corruption and seduction of souls had given me a sixth sense for spotting those most vulnerable to my charms. The holidays, while ostensibly being a time of cheer, also tended to bring out the worst in people. I could spot the desperation everywhere - those hoping to frantically find the perfect gifts to win over the ones they loved, those dissatisfied with their ability to provide for their loved ones, those dragged along on shopping trips to create a "perfect" holiday experience they had no interest in. . . . Yes, it was everywhere if you knew how to look for it: that sorrow and frustration tucked in amongst the joy. Those were exactly the kinds of souls that were ripe for the taking. I could have picked off any number of guys if I wanted to tonight and taken care of my quota for the week.

My brief exchange with Janice had left me feeling strange, however, and I couldn't muster the energy to go strike up a conversation with some discontent suburban businessman. Instead, I consoled myself with impulse purchases for myself and even found a couple of much-needed gifts for others, proving that I wasn't totally and completely selfish. By the time I left, I felt confident traffic had died down and would give me an easy drive back to the city. As I walked past the center of the mall, I heard Santa ho-ho-ho-ing loudly while waving his arms energetically around, much to the terror of a small child on his lap. My guess was that someone had cracked and broken the drinking rule.

On the way home, I noticed I had three voice mail messages, all from my friend Peter. Before I could even attempt to listen to them, the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Peter's frantic voice filled up the small space of my Passat.

"In my car. Where are you?"

"At my apartment. Where else? Everyone's here!"

"Everyone? What are you talking about?"

"Did you forget? Damn it, Georgina. You were a lot more punctual when you were unhappy and single."

I ignored the jab and scanned through my mental calendar. Peter was one of my best friends. He was also a neurotic, obsessive compulsive vampire who loved hosting dinners and parties. He usually managed to throw something together at least once a week, never for the same reason, so it was easy to lose track.

"It's fondue night," I said at last, proud of myself for remembering.

"Yes! And the cheese is getting cold. I'm not made of Sterno, you know."

"Why didn't you just start eating?"

"Because we're civilized."

"Debatable." I pondered whether I wanted to go or not. Part of me really just wanted to get home and snuggle with Seth, but I had a feeling he'd be working. I likely couldn't expect snuggling for a while, whereas I could appease Peter right now. "Fine. Start without me, and I'll be there soon. I'm just getting off the bridge now." Wistfully, I drove past Seth's exit and instead set my sights on the one that would take me to Peter's place.

"Did you remember to bring wine?" he asked.

"Peter, until a minute ago, I didn't even remember I was supposed to be at your place. Do you really need wine?" I'd seen Peter's wine cabinet. On any given day, he had a dozen each of reds and whites, both domestic and international.

"I don't want to run out of the good stuff," he said.

"I seriously doubt you're going to - wait. Is Carter there?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll pick up some wine."

I showed up at his apartment ten minutes later. His roommate and apprentice, Cody, opened the door and gave me a broad, fang-filled smile. Light, music, and the scent of fondue and potpourri washed over me. Their home put Santa's gazebo to shame and had decorations filling every square inch. And not just Christmas ones.

"Since when do you guys have a menorah?" I asked Cody. "Neither of you are Jewish."

"Well, we're not Christian either," he pointed out, leading me toward the dining room. "Peter wanted to take a multicultural slant this year. The guestroom is all done in Kwanza decorations, if you know someone looking for a truly tacky overnight experience."

"It is not tacky!" Peter stood up from a table where our other immortal friends sat around two tubs of melted cheese. "I can't believe you're so insensitive to other people's religious views. Jesus Christ! Is that boxed wine?"

"You said you