"Seth wanted to be reunited with her and make amends. For that to happen, it would contradict Georgina's contract - specifying he forget her."
"I'd want to see the wording," said Hugh. "I'm not trying to dash your hopes. I just know how these things work."
"Fair enough," said Roman. "But can you deny that when Seth called her 'Letha' last month, that was most definitely in violation of her contract? He remembered. Not consciously. But some part of him, deep inside, remembered her."
My thoughts were still moving sluggishly, but something clicked into place. "The transfer . . . the transfer came through the morning after I told Jerome about Seth calling me Letha."
"Yes," said Roman. "That's why things were mucked up with it. I guarantee my dear father has always known about your contracts and has accepted them grudgingly, especially if Seth's contract allows for you two to keep running into each other. But, when you told the gang about the name, Jerome had a serious problem. He recognized the violation and tattled to his superiors as fast as he could, making them panic and act quickly - too quickly - to get you out of here."
"But . . . it already happened. Seth remembered. The violation took place," I said, scarcely able to believe it.
"It's like a tree in the woods," remarked Hugh. "It only happens if they're called on it. Neither you nor Seth would have known about the contracts or any violation. You were oblivious. Jerome needed to keep it that way, get you guys apart and kill any chance of you figuring out what had happened."
"Hence the Vegas dream job," said Roman. "It's like we talked about before. Forbidding you guys to be together would've drawn too much attention. A run-of-the-mill transfer, however, would've seemed like business as usual - if not for the screwup. Hell was so anxious to get it going that they sent you the memo before Jerome had a chance to meet with you. I guarantee everything you saw in Vegas was thrown together on a day's notice."
I drew my hand back from Hugh's and buried my face in my palm. "Oh God."
Roman patted my shoulder in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting but mostly made me grit my teeth. "God's not the one you've got to look to right now. Do you realize what you've got here, Georgina? A once in a millennium opportunity to thwart Hell! You can challenge them, call your contract into dispute. And Seth's. All you need to do is talk to him, get the exact details of - "
I jumped up from my chair, finally giving way to all my own grief and fury. "No! Didn't you see his face? Didn't you hear him? He won't talk to me! Not now, not ever. And don't say he's just in shock again," I warned, seeing Roman about to speak. "You don't know what I did, what it was like for him . . . back then. There's a reason I made him forget! He's not going to forgive me for this. Never. He didn't then and isn't going to now. Oh Lord. Why did we have to do this? Why did we have to make him remember? We should've just let him forget. . . . Everything was fine. . . ." My frantic pacing led me over to the living room window, where I drew back the curtains. It was late in the day now, the sunset turning the clouds orange.
"Fine?" asked Roman, coming to stand beside me. "Hell was creating elaborate ploys to separate you and cover their asses! And they were killing his sister-in-law to do it. That is not fine. You and Seth have done nothing but play into Hell's hands all these centuries. Over and over, you find each other and lose each other, you bicker and fight, throw it all away on mistrust and lack of communication. Are you going to let that continue? Especially when they didn't even give you what you were promised?"
I rested my cheek against the glass, taking comfort in the coolness, refusing to listen to Roman's logic. "But Seth didn't remember until we made him."
"Not true. He remembered before that," said Roman. "On his own, when he called you Letha. That's how this all started. Nothing we did here changed that."
"He hates me," I said, fully aware of how whiny I sounded.
Roman didn't try to deny it. "People forgive."
I scoffed. "Do they?"
"They do," said