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