Haunted By The Succubus

by Michelle Dorey

  A sense of calmness seeps into every cell of my body. I fall into her embrace, the tears flowing while my shoulders rack in gut-wrenching sobs. I haven’t cried this much since I was a toddler. In that moment I feel all the pain of the past—the fights with my parents, my envy and love of my older brother and of course the sheer sadness of missing my sister, Amy.

  Even my friendship with Hilda and with Mike, surprise me in the intensity of how much I miss them.

  And then the tragedies of Cynthia, Lisa, and Doug claim me.

  It’s many minutes of crying unabashedly in this old woman’s arms before she eases back. “There. This is a new day, Adam. Now we fight again, together.” Her fingers dig into my upper arms, and she gives me a little shake to emphasize her point.

  It’s only at that moment when my tears are shed that glimmers of the old woman’s life start to come through. She is a fighter, a survivor. She lost her family when the gypsies were rounded up with the Jews and herded off to concentration camps. Her life was spared only because a kind Italian family hid her and then took her in as one of their family.

  Her life, marrying a man and emigrating to the USA, their love as they forged a life here, comes through as well. Their final years together were here in this place. There’s more than her love in that garden, his ashes are also there.

  She eases back and her hands drop, “We have work to do. But first you must eat. From now on you will drink only water and eat only the food which I have grown here. I will not allow you to come into my home... not yet. While I get your breakfast, I want you to sit on that tree stump.”

  “What? No more wood for me to split? I’m actually going to take it easy?” I’m teasing her of course. There’s more that she has in mind for me.

  “You are going to focus all your attention on why you deserve to be free of this possession. Too large a part of you has given up already. That has to change.”

  Her eyes bore through me, seeing things inside me that I’ve tried to hide for too long. If I’ve got psychic power, this woman has it as well but in spades. I have to look away from the intensity of her probing gaze.

  A part of me flares hotter in anger that she’s able to do this so easily. But is it that my insecurity is laid out like a buffet table, or is it this thing inside me which hates her? Hates her goodness and power? It had the upper hand yesterday but now feels the threat of Margrit. It’s still infecting me like a virus, but I sense it squirming in the face of the old lady’s goodness.

  I follow her across the yard and stop at the old oak tree stump. As I settle onto its rough surface, the screen door behind the old woman slams shut. Closing my eyes I try to focus on why I totally don’t deserve to be in this fiend’s possession. What did I ever do aside from being gifted with paranormal ability to have this demon glom on to me? Why me and not some psychopath who might even like it?

  A feeling of calm energy floods through me, and my mind stops spiraling in the whirlpool of pity. I’m better than this. I’ve been looking at this situation as a victim. A victim relinquishes power to another.

  I’ll be damned if that’s going to happen anymore. There is good in me along with power. Amy saw it and loved me. She saw past my parent’s’ and my brother’s disappointment in me.

  Amy thinks I’m kind of cool actually. But what is cool? Being a smart-ass, perceptive to a fault, and never listening to anyone’s advice? That isn’t going to cut it.

  This is hard stuff for someone like me. I can read auras, know people’s deepest, darkest secrets with just a touch, yet when it comes to knowing my own qualities—are there any? I’m muddled except in acknowledging my psychic power.

  Okay. Number one, I’m smart. Even my teachers knew that. I can read a history text book and not only learn about important past events but I actually can slip into that scene. It’s not like being in a movie, nothing that detailed, but the mood, the people involved come to life for me. Hence I could ace exams if I bothered to actually finish them.

  I guess... I’m kind to people too. Well, I don’t go out of my way to do harm, that is. Even with Cynthia: when I knew the demon wanted to take advantage of her I bolted. So that makes me sensitive and kind.

  This is working! My mind is clearer, and there’s a sense of serenity that makes me feel lighter.

  I smile, inhaling deeply, but my throat stings. The acrid smell of the air makes my chest tighten.

  What is that? I look over at the house to see smoke pouring out the screen door and the window at the side.

  Oh my God! The house is on fire! Margrit’s in there!

  ‘She thought she could beat me. Well, looks like that will be her last thought.’

  Damn it! Somehow the demon did this!

  “Margrit! Mrs. Kovacs? Get out of there!” But I know she’s out cold. There’s no sense of her presence, not a fragment of her essence anywhere.

  I race to the front of the house, hoping against all odds that somehow she’s lifted that barrier and I can get inside to get her out.

  EIGHTEEN

  MY HEART POUNDS as I race from the stump and over to the back step. But as soon as my foot lifts to go up I’m bounced back like I’ve just hit a wall.

  Damn it! That crazy barrier she put there is keeping me out. I’ve got to get in there somehow.

  “Margrit! Mrs. Kovacs! Can you hear me?” The smoke is becoming more dense, and there’s a glow of the fire flickering in the glass of the window.

  What’s worse is that I know she’s unconscious. There’s no glimmer of her essence in the house. Somehow that demon managed to set her house on fire and I can’t get in to help her!

  Even though it’s a long shot, I race to the front of the house to try getting in the front door. But, again her barrier keeps me away.

  The window! Maybe she hasn’t put any protection on it. I can get the ladder and break in. I run to the back of the shed. “Please let this work!”

  Grabbing the ladder, I sprint back to the house, all the while watching the smoke rolling and banking out through the back door. My hands shake as I prop it against the house, next to the window. Praying that this will work... praying I’m not too late to save her, my feet fly up the rungs.

  I’m halfway up, reaching to the open window to see if I can get through, when the sound of a vehicle, tires crunching on the gravel in the driveway catches my attention. A rapid glance shows that it’s a truck with some chick driving it. But there’s no time to think about that.

  The old lady will suffocate soon if I can’t get in. My hand darts out to grab the edge of the window but it’s like it hit a hard rubber ball, bouncing back before it even touches the glass.

  Damn it, Margrit! Another barrier spell. How am I—

  “Oh my God! Mrs. Kovacs!” The young woman runs up the driveway, her brown hair streaming behind her. She races up the front steps and disappears into the house without another word.

  Now my heart is skipping beats as I cling to the ladder.

  It’s surreal. That girl. That girl was the one I saw in my dream at the churchyard. She’s even wearing the pink sundress. What the hell?

  I almost fall from the ladder watching through the window, catching glimpses of her through the smoke-filled room. She’s got the old lady’s arms draped over her neck as she struggles to lift both of them to their feet. And then the smoke clouds my sight.

  At the sound of footsteps and coughing from the front veranda, I jump from the ladder to go help. The teenage girl stumbles across the floor of the veranda, almost falling down the steps but still holding Margrit up. Her eyes are filled with tears as she strains, the lean muscles of her legs smudged with soot.

  Margrit keels over at the waist, hand clutches her throat while long hacking coughs bark from her mouth.

  Thank God. She’s breathing!

  I race to the old woman and ease her down onto the step. Before I even can say a word the young woman bolts back into the house.

  “Wait! Don’t go in there!” I try to go after her
but of course the barrier flings me back. “Shit!” I can only stare at the empty opening, hoping she comes out soon. The smoke in there... Oh God.

  Margrit hunches over, wheezing and gasping air into her lungs. She grabs my arm, gazing into my eyes with horror. “It happened so quick. The pan of eggs and the bacon just went up in a flash! How?” The way she looks at me needs no words.

  We both know that this was no accident. That fire was set by the demon. Somehow it got into her house to kill her and it almost succeeded—would have—if not for the young woman showing up when she did.

  Margrit stares at the door and yells, her voice crackling, “Leah! What are you doing? Come out!”

  The girl appears in the opening, a smudge of soot and ash on her forehead, her hands blackened, coughing, but managing to get the words out between gulps of air. “It’s out. I doused the flames, but I’m afraid your kitchen’s a disaster, Mrs. Kovacs.”

  Her eyes narrow, reflecting the same gray as thunder clouds when she glares at me. “Why didn’t you help her?” Her chin in a heart-shaped face raises higher, and her mouth is a straight line when she steps closer to me. “Who are you? Did you do this?”

  I jerk back seeing her fingers close into fists at her sides. “No! I was trying to help her!”

  “By watching her through the window? Big help! She was barely breathing when I got to her.” She turns, tucking her long hair behind her ears, lowering to hug Margrit. Her features soften, revealing beauty in the concern she shows for the old woman. “Are you okay? We should take you to the hospital.”

  The old lady pats the girl’s thigh. “I’ll be okay if I can just sit here for a few moments. Can you get me a drink of water, Leah?”

  “Let him go for water. I wanna stay with you to make sure you’re okay.” She throws another foul look my way before turning once more to Margrit, holding the old lady’s hand in hers.

  She’s a total contradiction. One minute a total bitch glaring at me and the next, an angel in her concern for the old lady. I take a seat on Margrit’s other side and lean over, scowling at this Leah beeyotch. “I can’t! Don’t you think I would if I was able? You’ll have to go!” I can’t believe this is the same young woman in my dream. Maybe it was a nightmare.

  “Is there a piano strapped to your back? Is that why you’re so useless?” She spits the words, practically fuming as she stomps off into the house.

  Trying to ignore bitch-girl, I turn to the old lady. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Kovacs. I should have left when I said I was going to.” I hunker closer to her, examining her face and hands for any burn marks. I’d known something bad would happen to the old lady for helping me. This is all my fault.

  “No! If I catch you blaming yourself anymore for this... this Hell Spawn’s actions, I swear I’m going to give you a swat!”

  Leah steps out of the door. “I knew it! I knew he had something to do with this!” She hands the glass of water to Margrit and then as she’s stepping over to continue the verbal assault, her sandal catches on a loose board on the veranda. The bitchy scowl drops almost as quickly as she stumbles.

  Before I know it, I’m up and grabbing her arm to steady her and prevent a nasty fall down the steps.

  The contact with her flesh makes me seriously wish I hadn’t touched her. Oh my God. Leah’s shrewish mother, her henpecked father, and a picture of her brother flood through my mind in that instant. The worst of it is that the kid I tossed in the dumpster... Oh shit. It’s her brother, Preston!

  “What?” Her eyes flash wide, staring at me with open curiosity. “What’s with that look? Do I know you?” She yanks her arm away and rubs it like my touch soiled her skin.

  “No. It’s nothing.” I turn away and sit down again beside the old lady, but my mind is working overtime. I was meant to come to the old lady’s house—to the old lady who has a protégé—this Leah chick. A protégé with zero paranormal talent but who’s trying her best to acquire it. Maybe she thinks if she hangs around Margrit some of the old woman’s power will rub off on her?

  Not likely.

  Margrit finishes the glass of water and hands it to me. “Be patient with her, Adam. She’s a good person.”

  “What are you saying, Mrs. Kovacs? I don’t need you to defend me to this guy, this useless creep who wouldn’t even lift a finger to help you when you were out cold. You could have died.” She directs the question at the old lady but her eyes never leave me. “Who is this guy and what’s he doing here? Is he a relative or something?” Leah stands with her arms tightly crossed over her chest. The resentment she feels for me comes off in flaming red waves.

  “Help me to my feet, Leah.” Margrit takes the hand that Leah extends and rises, shooting a sad look at her. “You can’t stay here, Leah. I’m grateful you showed up when you did, but it’s not safe for you to be here.”

  Leah’s mouth falls open but then she recovers quickly. “It’s because of him, isn’t it? I don’t think it’s safe for you to be alone out here with him. Hell, you might be dead if I hadn’t come along.”

  I can’t stay silent, especially now that I’ve made the series of connections. This is playing out like a well-thought-out blueprint. And the architect hasn’t revealed the final draft. I look at her. “Why did you come out here, Leah?”

  Her eyes are flinty when she looks at me. “What’s it to you? Mrs. Kovacs is my friend. I usually come out on the weekend to see her. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “So, no sudden urge?“ This is going to make me sound like an egomaniac but I have to ask, “You aren’t attracted to me?” I look at her. I mean really look into her depths, her aura to see for myself.

  “Oh my God!” She throws up her hands, unable to say anything more she’s so flabbergasted. But there’s no lie in what I see inside her. She really did come out to see Margrit, and the animosity she feels for me isn’t masking any attraction whatsoever.

  Huh.

  Leah shows that she’s never at a loss for words for long when she speaks, “Are you that out of touch with reality? You think I’d be attracted to you? As if. Wow! You’ve got some serious issues with your self-image, jerk.”

  Now it’s my turn to get hot under the collar. This neophyte, this dilettante, wannabe psychic has no idea. “Lately women have been falling over themselves to get next to me.”

  Her lips form a nasty sneer. “Cause you’re such a hero, I guess.”

  This verbal ping-pong match is getting us nowhere. I look at Margrit to see if she has any ideas why this Leah would be immune to the demon’s tricks, making her unlike the others who came on to me in a big way.

  She shrugs but she’s still wary of letting Leah be anywhere close to me until we’ve exorcised this entity. Again, she turns to Leah. “Go. It isn’t forever Leah, but right now you need to leave Adam and me alone.”

  Leah grasps Margrit’s arm, leaning closer. “I don’t trust him, Mrs. Kovacs. Let me stay. I’ll clean the mess in your kitchen and make you something to eat. I don’t feel right leaving you alone with this guy.”

  Much as I hate to admit it, she has a point. If she hadn’t come along, Margrit could be dead.

  And for whatever reason, she’s immune to the demon’s machinations. Aside from Margrit, Leah is the only woman who hasn’t thrown herself at me. She’s either able to resist, or I’m more repugnant than I care to admit. I kind of hope it’s the former not the latter reason.

  Still, I have to agree with Margrit. This being is sneaky. The fact that Leah was in my dream is the final penny dropping. “I’m not going to hurt Margrit. She’s trying to help me. If you stay you’ll wreck everything. Nothing personal Leah, but you need to go.”

  She turns on me, leading with her chin. I have to admit it, but with her delicate features, it’s kind of cute. “How do I know you’re not a serial killer, some kind of arsonist? What’s your last name? I’ve got cop friends, and I might just ask them to check you out.”

  “Marshall. Adam Marshall.” It just popped out; my mo
ther’s maiden name. There’s no way I’d tell her the truth, not with the APB that’s probably out on me.

  “Got any ID to prove that?”

  My God, the girl’s a bulldog with a bone! But Margrit settles the matter. “Enough, Leah! I trust Adam and that should convince you. After all we’ve been through—”

  She spun on her heels facing Margrit down. “All you’ve been through? Remember who was the one who actually helped you, Mrs. Kovacs. That was me!” Again she turns the third degree on me, arms crossed actually tapping her toe on the hard-packed walkway. “How long have you been here? When are you leaving? WHY are you here?”

  I step into her space, barking my answer, “I’ve been here a couple days, and it’s none of your concern when I choose to leave. The why is absolutely none of your business.” Although I am getting the strong feeling that it totally concerns her. She is somehow tied into this demon’s horrid plan.

  Mrs. Kovac’s knees actually creak when she steps between us, hand up like a traffic cop’s. “Enough!” But she turns a hard gaze at Leah. “I’m not asking you to leave, Leah. I’m ordering you. GO!”

  Leah is silent for a few beats glaring at both of us before she bursts out, “Okay. Okay. I’m leaving. But I’ll be back.” There is challenge in her narrow eyes when she looks at me. “I don’t trust you, buster. If anything more happens to Mrs. Kovacs you’ll have me to deal with. Got it?”