Succubus Revealed by Richelle Mead Read Free Book Online Page B

Correction—most lesser immortals I knew did. Greater ones, like Jerome and Carter, rarely did, but maybe they already had too concrete of a job with their employers. Or, maybe, lesser immortals just carried over the urge from when we were human.
    Regardless, days like today were clear reminders of why I chose gainful employment. If I’d had nothing but free time on my hands, I would’ve spent the rest of the day ruminating about my fate and the potential transfer. Assisting Walter-as-Santa—as absurd as it was—at least gave me a distraction while I waited to hear from Jerome. Vocation gave purpose too, which I’d found was necessary to mark the long days of immortality. I’d met lesser immortals who had gone insane, and most of them had done nothing but drift aimlessly throughout their long lives.
    A new elf—one whom Walter had christened Happy—had joined our ranks today, one who was certainly helping pass the time if only because of how much she was grating on my nerves.
    “I don’t think he should be drinking at all, ” she said, for what felt like the hundredth time. “I don’t see why I have to learn this schedule.”
    Prancer, a veteran elf, exchanged glances with me. “None of us is saying it’s right,” he told Happy. “We’re just saying it’s reality. He’s going to get a hold of liquor one way or another. If we deny him, he’ll sneak it in the bathroom. He’s done it before.”
    “If we’re the ones giving it to him,” I continued, “then we control the access and amount he gets. This?” I gestured to the schedule we’d drawn up. “This isn’t much. Especially for a guy his size. It’s not even enough to get buzzed.”
    “But they’re children!” Happy cried. Her eyes drifted off toward the long line of families trailing through the mall. “Sweet, innocent, joyful children.”
    Another silent message passed between Prancer and me. “Tell you what,” I finally said. “Why don’t you make them your priority. Forget about the liquor schedule. We’ll handle that. You go trade places with Bashful at the head of the line. She doesn’t really like working with the public anyway.” When Happy was out of earshot, I remarked, “One of these days, someone’s going to report us all to the mall’s HR office.”
    “Oh, they have plenty of times,” said Prancer, smoothing out his green spandex pants. “I’ve worked with Walter for three years now, and Happy’s not the first elf to have moral qualms about Santa getting lit. He’s been reported lots.”
    That was news to me. “And they haven’t fired him?”
    “Nah. It’s harder to fill these jobs than you might think. As long as Walter doesn’t touch or say something inappropriate, the mall doesn’t seem to care.”
    “Huh,” I said. “Good to know.”
    “Georgina!”
    Beyond the gates leading to Santa’s pavilion, I saw someone waving at the edge of the crowd. Hugh. My heart rate sped up. This mall was actually right around the corner from his office, so he’d come by before for lunch. In light of recent events—and the look on his face—something told me he wasn’t here for a casual meal today.
    “Hey,” I said to Prancer. “Can I take my break now?”
    “Sure, go for it.”
    I cut through the crowd and met up with Hugh, trying not to feel self-conscious about wearing the foil dress. Hugh had come from the office and was dressed impeccably, playing up the role of successful plastic surgeon. I felt cheap beside him, especially as he and I walked farther from the holiday mayhem toward some of the mall’s more upscale shops.
    “I was on my way home from work and thought I’d stop by,” he said. “I figured you weren’t taking many calls while on the job.”
    “Not so much,” I agreed, gesturing to the tight dress and its lack of pockets. I caught hold of his arm. “Please tell me you heard something. The transfer’s a mistake, right?”
    “Well, I still think it is, but no, I haven’t heard