The Succubus looked up at me with a look of pure hatred. There was no semblance of humanity left in her eyes. Feral. Lyanne had warned me that there was no hope for redemption from those who had given up their mind to the hunger.
She clawed at the ground, growling. “Damnable hunter. How did you even find me—that bitch Maura at The Dispensary?”
That was a new name for me. “Maura at the what now?”
I let my guard down for just a moment and the Succubus seized the opportunity. In one fluid motion, she was on her feet and rushing toward me, claws extended. Only instinct saved me, my wrist flicking out the Night Flail before I had truly recognized the danger. The tip of the flail impaled the Succubus through her chest. There was a sharp jolt as darkness exploded forth from her, a much more violent reaction than in my previous encounters. Her body juddered a few times, then rapidly melted to ash.
There was a moment of disappointment in the silence that followed. I had hoped to gather some more information on this outing. Capturing Succubi alive was a more difficult prospect than I had thought.
At least I had gotten a new name: Maura.
Lyanne was already waiting for me outside the security office where she had been keeping watch. The overnight security guard stood behind her, his eyes glazed over and a stupid smile on his face from Lyanne's charm. She had assured me that it would wear off harmlessly a few hours after she left.
She greeted me with her usual playful smile. “I suppose congratulations are in order, hunter. One less Succubus stalking the streets at night.”
It was hard to tell whether the compliment was sincere or not. “I didn't get to question her, unfortunately. Did get a name. Do you know someone named Maura at a place called The Dispensary?”
“Can’t say that I do.” Something in my expression caused Lyanne to cock her head curiously. “You thought I knew everyone, didn't you? That’s adorable.”
I couldn’t help but flush under her scrutiny. “You certainly act like you do.”
“Only the fun people.” She sauntered closer to me and put a hand on the front of my shirt. “But enough about that. We can search for Maura later. Now, we should go home and celebrate your victory.” Her eyes looked me over approvingly. “And keep the costume. We’ll get some more use of it tonight.”
I was awoken in the morning by the ringing of the doorbell. Lyanne had not let me go to sleep until three in the morning, and then I’d taken over, warming to my role as the hard-working, blue-collar guy who suddenly discovered that doggie style was his favorite sexual position. After several rounds of that, Lyanne agreed that sleep was in order, and we fell into a mutually exhausted state holding each other while she still wore the construction vest and nothing else. All in all, that costume was the best fifteen bucks I’ve ever spent, and I resolved to work my way through every occupation with Lyanne, given the chance.
The sun was beginning to rise, so I wasn’t eager to get the door. I put a pillow over my head to block out the sounds and the sunlight filtering through the blinds, hoping that whoever was bothering us this early would just go away.
No such luck. The doorbell rang again. It sounded vaguely angry.
With a moan I forced myself to sit upright. “Who would harass us this early?”
Lyanne yawned and stretched her body in a way that would have had my blood pumping if I wasn't so exhausted. “Probably the landlord. I think he said something about doing an inspection of the apartment today.”
I tried futilely to rub the sleepiness out of my eyes. “The landlord? Wait, an inspection today?”
Around us was the mess of our haphazard lifestyle, including a few things that would be tough to explain: a number of weapons, stacks of rubber-band bound cash, and piles of newspaper clippings of missing-person cases. It painted a concerning image, at best, falling somewhere between crime lords and serial killers.
The doorbell rang again and I sprung out of bed to get dressed. “I'll stall the landlord. You . . . try to hide all this stuff.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “Nothing illegal here.”
“Maybe not, but they're definitely going to draw attention to us. Just . . . shove them under the bed or something, okay?”
Lyanne grumpily tossed the sheets off of her. “Fine.”
I reached the door just as it was ringing again. As tired and frustrated as I was, I prepared my most nasty glare for the greasy, hairy landlord.
The young woman on the other side of the door was not my intended target.
She was sexy, in a bookish kind of way. Her small and slender frame perfectly suited her smooth, intelligent face. Dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a silk ribbon. But her most attention-grabbing feature was her eyes, a stunning gold magnified by the lenses of her thick-framed glasses. She reminded me in many ways of the protagonists of many 90s romantic comedies, the clearly attractive nerd who lets down her hair and upgrades her wardrobe, and is suddenly seen as desirable.
I felt immediately guilty as the stranger recoiled sheepishly from my glare. “Oh, sorry, I thought you were—we were expecting someone else. Can I help you?”
She cautiously straightened. “Sorry to bother you. I'm Sara, my father owns this building.”
“You're the landlord’s daughter?” I gave Sara a fresh appraisal. What I had initially taken for plain dress I realized was an intentional style choice. I was still fairly new to the world of high-end fashion, but the shops that Lyanne had been dragging me to had taught me a thing or two, and Sara's outfit would have come with a considerable price tag. Her shoes alone were worth more than my car—at least, my first car.
Sara gave me a cautious nod, as if she was afraid I would start scolding her. “Yes. I'm helping my father today, and he was scheduled to inspect this apartment. May I come in?”
I stepped back and gestured for her to enter. She stepped cautiously around me, making me again feel guilty for my first impression.
It took a moment to remember I was supposed to be stalling to give Lyanne time to hide our hunting paraphernalia. I took position in front of the bedroom door and gave Sara my friendliest smile. “So I haven't seen you around before. You live here?”
Sara was giving the apartment a cursory glance. “No, I live in Long Island. I decided to spend the weekend in the city, and my father told me I could stay in the upstairs apartment if I helped him with a few things while I was here.”
I raised the volume of my voice so Lyanne could hear as Sara approached the bedroom. “What are your plans in the city?”
“Nothing too important . . .” She paused in front of me and regarded me as if seeing me for the first time. “Why, do you have some ideas?”
The change in her tone was lost on me. “I can think of a couple of restaurants you should try while you're here.”
She stepped closer to me, her caution apparently dissolved. “Oh, are you already proposing taking me out to dinner? Well, I'm not opposed to it.”
Sara came even closer, nearly pressing her body against me as I backed against the bedroom door.
I could only hope Lyanne didn't choose that moment to come out.
I couldn't understand the sudden shift in attitude. “That isn't what I—I mean, I'm sure you're busy . . .”
Her eyes were fixed on me with desire. “You're right, I am pretty busy. So maybe we shouldn't waste any time.” She reached for me.
A voice from the hall came to the rescue. “Sara? You in there?”
Sara blinked and shook her head as if suddenly coming to her senses from a daze. “Yes, I'm inside, Ragan.”
A tall, handsome man came through the front door. He looked like he had just stepped out of an Abercrombie ad: shaggy blond hair, strong chin, brilliant white smile. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal generously muscled arms.
My danger sense immediately began to fizz. Incubus.
Sara rushed over to the dangerous intruder and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I'll just be a moment, honey.” She looked back
at me. “Oh, sorry. This is my boyfriend, Ragan. Ragan, this is the tenant of this apartment—”
“Kurt.” I smiled and held out my hand.
Ragan took my hand without really paying any attention to me. He must not have been able to sense my true nature. “Sorry for the intrusion, Kurt, but I'm going to need to steal my girlfriend now. Lunch reservations.”
Sara gave me an embarrassed look. “I'll let my father know everything looks okay in here. It was nice to meet you, Kurt.”
Lyanne came out of the bedroom just as the front door closed. “Well, that was interesting.”
I concentrated on my instinct as the feel of the Incubus grew distant. “You could tell that he was one of them, too.”
She looked at me curiously. “Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose he was. I was more interested in Sara. She was quite taken with you. I think if her boyfriend had not shown up, she would have started tearing off your clothes.”
It was impossible for me to deny it. “I wouldn't have—I didn't lead her on. I don't know what happened there.”
Lyanne laughed at my nervousness. “Relax, Kurt. Do you take me as a jealous type? It doesn't bother me if you want to take on more lovers. No, what was so interesting was how quickly she became attracted to you. I've had suspicions for a while now, about how women react to you. Whenever we go out to eat the servers are always flirting with you, and it’s not just because you’re kind to them—which is, by the way, very sexy. When we go shopping, you get special attention from the saleswomen. This can no longer be seen as a coincidence.”
I thought back to my first night in city, and the proprietor of The Show Relief hotel, who had quickly gone from being angry to offering to spend the night with me. “Do I have a power like a Succubus?”
She came close and sniffed my collar. “No, not quite the same. It’s not a charm—more like . . . a pheromone. It may be the reason you’re so effective as Succubus bait.”
That seemed like an insulting way to put it, but I let it go. “I'll have to be more careful about letting women get close to me. Right now, I think we should follow Sara. If she doesn't realize her boyfriend is an Incubus, she could be in danger. He might look like a handsome idiot, but he’s got the potential to do her lasting harm.”
Lyanne yawned. “Ready to gallantly ride in to rescue? He is unlikely to make any moves until nightfall, so she's safe for now. If she's staying in the building, we’ll get a better chance to catch him in the act later. Some Incubi are born to work at night—they’re weak tea compared to my sisters, and they can focus more on their ability to drain once the sun is down. I think they’re overwhelmed by light and heat, but I could be wrong. There’s another reason I want to hold off, too.”
“Which is?”
“I desperately need a shower,” she said, grinning. She paused at the bedroom door just long enough to call back to me. “Feel free to join me.”
Ragan returned later that night to pick up Sara, all dressed up for a night out. Not wanting to be seen, I followed far behind them, using my instinctual feeling for Ragan's presence to track his movement. The building was quiet at this time of night, and I did my best to move silently, but I felt like a clumsy oaf compared to the effortless way Lyanne glided across the ground. Still, I was getting better. I felt less chaotic in my steps than I had a week before, which meant that my new life was, at the minimum, becoming a part of who I was, body and mind.
Once outside, the pair got into a cab and we continued the pursuit in our rental. The longer we followed, the more eager I was to wrap the Night Flail around Ragan's throat. Lyanne counseled me to be patient. If we attacked when Sara was close, Ragan might use her as a hostage, after all.
We followed them to a nightclub that proclaimed itself to be “The Secret Spot,” though based on the crowd it seemed the secret was out. After parking our car at the valet, I followed Lyanne as she forced her way to the front of the line at the door.
A burly bouncer with a serious expression passively sized us up. “Name?”
Lyanne smiled at him sweetly. “I will save you some time, dear. We are not on the list.”
The bouncer's expression didn't waver. “Please step out of the line.”
I wondered what size of bribe Lyanne was going to offer this time. Her money was seemingly endless, and she was not afraid of using it to get tables at exclusive restaurants, or to get gun shop owners to skip background checks.
Instead she leaned forward and whispered something I couldn't hear into the bouncer's ear. The serious facade faltered, and the bouncer's face flushed as red as a peach.
He made a show of checking his list. “Oh, right, there you are. Go on in.”
Curious, I followed Lyanne through the dark entryway of the nightclub. “Did you use a charm on him?”
Lyanne chuckled in reply. “Not everything requires such brute force. I told him I have no gag reflex.”
I laughed. “That’s true.”
She grinned, then licked her lips. “Remember that later.”
“Trust me when I say there is a zero percent chance I’ll ever forget that,” I said.
We moved inside among the thumping music where a press of bodies gyrated and rubbed up against each other. I found my awareness of the Incubus dulled here, a combination of the smell of smoke and the heavy presence of hormones in the air made it tough to pinpoint exactly where the creature was in all this mess.
It took effort to fight our way through the crowd until we reached the bar. We ordered drinks so as to not stand out, and then waited, scanning the club and looking for any sign of Sara and the Incubus.
Lyanne's senses proved sharper than mine here. “Over there, heading toward the exit.”
I was barely able to force my way through the dancers and reach the exit just as Ragan did, pretending to bump into him by accident.
“Hey man!” I shouted to be heard over the music. “Ragan, wasn't it? We met this morning.”
Ragan looked frustrated to be interrupted but he forced a smile. “I remember. Funny running into you here. This is a pretty exclusive club.”
His arm was wrapped around Sara, who seemed to be barely conscious. Her whole body was limp, her eyes were half-closed, and her jaw was slack. She looked as if she had been roofied.
“Is something wrong with Sara?” I asked.
The Incubus adjusted his burden so that Sara leaned more easily against him. “Just a bit too much to drink. I really should get her home so she can sleep it off. It was good to see you again.”
Lyanne appeared beside me as Ragan left the club. “That bastard drained her.”
I could feel the blood leave my face. “Drained her? That prick. Is she going to be alright?”
The sound of a growl was barely audible above the din. “I don't know. Depends on how much he took from her. Come on, we can't let him get away.”
“You’re fucking right he’s not getting away,” I said with my own growl.
We reached the street just in time to see Ragan stuff Sara's limp form into a cab before strolling off in the opposite direction. I was tempted to follow the cab to make sure Sara was alright, but Lyanne was right—we could not let Ragan escape.
Ragan led us to a small bar a few blocks away called “Lenore's.” I was about to go in after him but Lyanne stopped me
“Leave this one to me.”
My rage was at a boiling point and I was ready to rush inside with the Night Flail swinging, regardless of who was watching. “I'm the hunter here. Don't get in the way.”
The look in Lyanne's eyes made me regret my words, not because I feared her, but because I realized I needed to work with her. As a team, not a raging bull who killed based solely on emotion.
“Do not be—look, if you go in there, you’re going to kill him—hell, you’re going to butcher him, judging by the look on your face—and we’ll learn nothing. He’s not that strong; even in my weakened state I should be able to handle him. Or do you enjoy working blind all the time?”
I
considered her words, then gave a terse nod.
Lyanne looked grateful. “Wait for me around the side there. I should only be a minute.”
For the next ten minutes I stood alone in the alley beside the bar, silently fuming to myself as the anger drained away under my reason and scrutiny. It wasn't Lyanne I was frustrated with, really, but myself. Sara was hurting, possibly dying, and somehow I felt it was my fault. I was failing at the task Mom had left for me, but more importantly, I was allowing pain to occur when I could have stopped it with a swing of my weapon. The contradiction of planning and acting made me angry all over again, but I mastered it with an internal push of will that felt remarkably adult.
True to her word, Lyanne met me in the alley, trailed by the Incubus. Ragan's face was twisted and strained as if he was trying to lift a heavy object, and he walked with an awkward stagger.
Lyanne's expression was ruthless as she explained. “He’s attempting to resist my thrall. If I was at full power, I could have reduced to him to a drooling idiot, but this is the best I can manage right now.
Ragan moaned as he struggled to speak. “Kurt? What—what is happening? Who are you, really?”
I smiled wickedly and raised my arm in his direction. The Night Flail was there. “I'm the hunter of your kind, Incubus.”
The creature's face paled to almost the same shade of white as his teeth. “Wait, we can talk about this!”
The end of the flail dangled menacingly, and I resisted the urge to knock his pearly whites out with the weapon’s vicious end. “Oh, we will talk. What happens to you depends on what you can tell me.”
Ragan's eyes darted around desperately for a means of escape. “What—what do you want to know?” There was naked fear in every word. Good. The asshole should have been pissing himself.
“I want everything you know about the Succubi and Incubi living in the city.”
Sweat beaded on the Incubus's brow. “I don't know much—really I don't! I'm just a fucking pawn, a foot soldier. I follow orders when they’re given, and otherwise I just mind my own business. I don't know the others.”
Succubus Hunter Page 5
