Diary of an Incubus

by Diary of an Incubus (lit)

  “That’s alright, Matt,” I said, never taking my eyes from the man before me. “We’ll go along with it for now.” I looked once more at his hands. “You don’t have a script.”

  “I do not need a script,” he replied smoothly. “What scene would you like me to play?” He took a step forward and when he was only a few inches in front of me I realized I’d been moving toward him this whole time. “What lines would you like me to speak?” he whispered.

  Damn, he smelled good. I breathed him in and my heart leapt at the familiar scent. This was the cologne I’d smelled on my pillow all those years ago. It had to be or else I was losing my mind.

  “Forget the script then. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes. I want to see something new, something impromptu. I want to see Vincent. Can you do that for me?”

  “I can do many things,” he replied. The corners of his full lips curled into a devilish smile.

  “Then pretend we have just met,” I said. “That shouldn’t be too hard, since I still don’t know your name. Imagine that I will be your victim tonight. Lure me, seduce me with your charms.”

  No one else in the room spoke as he turned his back to me and walked toward the door. For a moment I thought my request was too much and he was going to leave. But then he turned back to me and said, “But you do know me. My name is Vincent Marcellus and this is not the first time you have laid eyes on me.”

  The name rolled off his tongue and sounded somehow more exotic as it fell from his lips. He approached me slowly and it looked almost like he was floating. My eyes started to close involuntarily from the sound of his voice and he stopped me.

  “No,” he whispered. “Look at me. I would see the truth in your eyes. For years now you have known me. I have felt it when you dreamt of me. But never did I imagine that you would write my story.”

  My heart was about to hammer through my ribs. I had told no one about the journals. My uncle didn’t even know what was in them and he’d bought them for me. No one knew my secret. Just as I was about to panic I reminded myself that I was in the presence of a very gifted actor and he didn’t know my secret either. He was just playing the part, just like I’d asked him to.

  I had somehow lost track of his movement and he was now standing over me. I looked up into his eyes as he whispered, “Was having me to yourself not enough? Was it truly necessary to share me with the world?”

  Since he was playing the part so well, I couldn’t resist indulging myself. And so I asked the question I had wondered so many times before.

  “Are you angry with me?” I said breathlessly.

  “I should be,” he whispered as he reached for me, “and yet here you stand, looking so much like my Emily and loving me with your eyes.”

  “It’s you.”

  My voice was barely audible, but Vincent heard me and he moved closer. He brushed the backs of his knuckles across my face and I trembled not only with desire, but with a little fear as well.

  “Why didn’t you come sooner?” I asked.

  “Because I had to wait until dusk.”

  “Bravo.” I heard Mary begin to clap and turned reluctantly toward the sound. I wanted to slap her for interrupting. But then reality seemed to dawn on me. I was in the middle of an audition and we had just found Vincent … maybe the real one.

  “Well done,” I said and my voice still shook.

  He was standing so close to me. I was so close to my vision after all this time. I wanted to touch him. I could have cried with the need if not for the look in his eyes. That look let me know that tonight wouldn’t be my only opportunity to be near him.

  “You and I have unfinished business,” he said for my ears only.

  Everyone else rushed forward then and started talking at once. Yes, we had found Vincent.

  I excused myself as soon as it was politely possible. I needed some air. And a drink. Matt led me to a small office down the hall. There was a mini bar and he left me to help myself. I poured a glass of scotch before looking around for his jacket. Matt always kept a cigar in his coat pocket. He didn’t smoke them nearly as much as I did so I’m sure he wouldn’t mind as long as I replaced it later.

  People were still clearing out of the parking lot, no doubt disappointed that they hadn’t gotten the part. But there were plenty more actors to be cast before filming could start so they still had a chance. I stuck to the shadows in the far corner until most of them had gone. I didn’t feel like being recognized just now.

  When the door behind me burst open I nearly choked on the scotch.

  “So, is it true?”

  I had gotten to be close friends with Matt’s older sister, Brea and when she bounded out onto the patio I started to laugh. Brea was probably my biggest fan. She’s close to six feet tall with short closely cropped black hair. She colors it of course. Like her brother she’s a natural blond. She always dressed like she’d escaped from an 80’s rock band. But during business hours she was an executive. She worked in the marketing department of a large food company. She helped develop ads for everything from cereal to after dinner mints and she was good at it.

  I rattled the ice around in my drink. “It’s true.” I couldn’t stop myself from smiling as I realized that what I was about to tell her really was true. “We’ve found Vincent.”

  “Holy shit. What’s he like? I mean … is he just like the book?”

  “He’s just like I remembered.”

  Before Brea could comment on my strange answer Matthew walked outside.

  He started to say something but then took a closer look at me.

  “Geez, he really got to you, didn’t he?”

  Chapter Five

  “What did he do?” Brea asked.

  “Creeped me the fuck out, but he was right on target,” Matt said.

  I stared out at the parking lot, but didn’t really see it. “It was like he knew me. Like he knew my thoughts, my fears.” And my longing.

  “It’s called hypnotism,” Matt said.

  “You think he hypnotized her?” Brea asked.

  “He did something.”

  “Oh, my God.

  Matt turned to me then. “Listen, they’re going to handle the contract negotiations from here. You don’t have to have any further contact with him if you don’t want to. I can make sure he stays away from you.”

  “No, don’t do that.” My answer was just a little too fast, but it was too late for a retraction.

  “You liked it, didn’t you?” he asked.

  I could tell he was getting angry and I didn’t respond. Matt was still itching to pick a fight to get rid of his nervousness and I wasn’t going to play along.

  “Jewel, there’s something strange about him and I don’t just mean because he looks the part. For Christ’s sake, he is the part. I’ve read your books, remember? I’ve even read the last one that hasn’t been released to the public. No one could play a part like that, like he just did without being completely obsessed with the character or the story. Or hell, maybe even with you. Did you not notice the way he looked at you, because I did? Do you want a description from my side of the room?”

  “No thanks. I preferred the close up.”

  I hadn’t meant to say anything in response but he was really starting to piss me off. Fortunately, I didn’t have to say anything else.

  “Well, if he’s good enough to make Matt jealous, that’s good enough for me,” Brea said. She placed her hands on her slender hips and looked at her brother, daring him to deny the fact that he was jealous.

  Matt leaned forward and propped against the railing. When he spoke his voice was much softer this time. “You don’t know what it’s like to have competed with someone for years who doesn’t exist and now suddenly he does.” He turned me to face him. “Jewel, this is not the man you’ve been looking for. Vincent is not real.”

  “For someone who isn’t real he sure has got the two of you riled,” Brea said.

  I took another sip of scotch and considered what Matt
had just said. “I haven’t been looking for him,” I denied quietly.

  “If you believe that then you’re worse off than I thought,” Matt said.

  With that he walked back into the building and left me alone with Brea.

  “So, he still thinks you dumped him for a man who doesn’t exist.” It wasn’t a question, but more of a statement of fact. When I didn’t respond she asked, “Did you?”

  “I didn’t think so at the time.”

  I heard her slow easy intake of breath, but didn’t turn to look directly at her. She wasn’t sighing, she was just breathing in the night air. She was waiting for me to say something else. Brea was like that sometimes. It was like she could sense when you had more to say, she was just waiting for you to say it.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on with me, Brea. I care about Matt, I always will. You know that.”

  “You don’t have to make excuses,” she said. “There are a whole lot of ways to love someone. I know you love Matt and he knows it too. You just don’t love him the way he hoped you would.”

  She took out a cigarette and after she patted down her pockets a few times I handed her my lighter.

  “Thanks.” She paused to blow a smoke ring into the dark. Her hot pink lips formed a perfect “O” around the cigarette as she took another drag. “I believe in vampires,” she said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “I believe in vampires.” She answered me as if she wasn’t saying the strangest thing I’d heard in a while.

  “Okay, but why are you telling me? Because I write about them?”

  “No.” She laughed and took another puff on her cigarette before reaching for my scotch. “I’m telling you because I want to know if you really think this Vincent guy is the real deal.”

  I laughed nervously and handed her the glass. “How could he be? I mean, I made that character up.”

  “Did you?”

  Her question sent a cold chill down my spine. I shivered, but thanks to the weather that didn’t look odd. I didn’t know how to respond. She handed me back the scotch and I drank the rest in one gulp.

  “Okay,” she said, finishing her cigarette. “Let’s throw logic out the window for a minute and just consider this.”

  “Consider what? There’s nothing to consider.”

  “Hold on. This isn’t that far-fetched. There’s already speculation of werewolves being real. Haven’t you been listening to the news?”

  “Yes, but apparently not to the same channel you have.”

  “Hear me out. Let’s just assume for a moment that Vincent is real. If that were true …” She paused and moved closer to me. “If he really has all the powers he does in your story, then he could have sent his thoughts to you. He could have passed them on in your dreams. An incubus would have that kind of power.”

  “Brea, come on.” I tried to play it off, but I was really starting to get worried.

  “Maybe he wanted his story to be told. He just needed to find someone with the talent to tell it.”

  “Maybe.”

  Or maybe I found his diary and published it. Oh, shit.

  Brea reached to hug me as she said, “Oh well, it’s just a thought. I’m off. I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

  She was just about to leave when I froze and put a hand out to stop her.

  “There he is,” I whispered.

  We both looked to see the tall dark figure walking across the parking lot. His long coat billowed in the cold wind, revealing the red liner once more. The smell of his cologne carried to me, even though I knew it shouldn’t have been possible from that distance. Still, I breathed him in. He turned and I looked into his eyes once more. “Unfinished business,” they seemed to say. Unfinished indeed. If he was for real then I was fucked.

  He turned to leave and Brea practically fainted against the railing.

  “Oh, he’s perfect,” she said. “What a hunk!”

  I considered leaving too, but then remembered that Matt had given me a ride. I didn’t particularly relish the thought of being alone with him just then. Still, Matt and I had been through a lot together. I saw no reason that our relationship should be jeopardized over someone I had only just met. The real Vincent, the one in my story was the one I had fallen in love with, not this man … whoever he was. But right now another man I loved was waiting to take me home.

  I went back to the office to return the empty glass and found him waiting for me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I had no right to say what I did.”

  “No. You had every right. You know me like few other people ever have and I’m not just talking about sexually. You really know me. I’ve told you almost all my secrets.”

  “Almost?” He smiled as he took my glass and sat it on the desk.

  I turned toward the door. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t see the look in his eyes as I spoke. “You know what I mean. There is no one else I would admit this to, except maybe Brea.”

  Matt walked up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders.

  “You’re in love with him.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. What was the point in denying it anymore?

  “Jewel, I’ve known that for a long time.” He sighed and I turned to face him. I was surprised at what I saw reflected in his eyes. Not jealousy, but concern.

  “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

  “No. I think you’ve been under a lot of stress. Just think how much has changed for you in such a short time. You’ve gone from walking to the bar because you couldn’t afford the gas to drive into town, to being a celebrity. All in just under three years.”

  “I’m not a celebrity,” I protested.

  “Sure you are. You’re the biggest thing to hit writing since, what’s-her-face, the lady who wrote all those children’s books!”

  “So, you don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “Do you want to know what I really think?” he asked.

  “Of course, I asked didn’t I?”

  “Okay. All bullshit and jealousy aside, I’ll tell you. I think you put everything you’ve ever wanted in a man into Vincent. You love him because he is a representation of your ideal, your dream man. He’s powerful, he’s sexy, and he never grows old. What could be more appealing than eternal youth, beauty and power all rolled into a sexy package?”

  I nodded my agreement. That’s what Vincent was alright one sexy package.

  “I don’t blame you for loving your creation or even for loving your ideal. There’s nothing wrong with that. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “By my imagination?”

  “By that figment of your imagination that showed up today.” His voice was sarcastic, putting extra emphasis on the word, “figment.”

  “He’s obviously very talented. He just did exactly what I asked him to. The problem was I thought I was ready to see Vincent come to life and I really wasn’t. It was too much for me and I needed, and still need, a little time to think it over. I need to come to terms with reality.”

  “Exactly. You need to realize that he’s an actor. No matter how good he might be, he’s not the man of your dreams.”

  A light switched on in my brain.

  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? You think he might play on my emotions and end up hurting me.”

  “Yes, that’s what I think. If you have any further contact with him, just be sure you know it’s him you’re talking to, an actor not the real Vincent.”

  “You’re a sweetheart, Matt, but I can distinguish between truth and words in a book.”

  “If you say so.”

  Once I was alone that night my mind wouldn’t shut off. What if Brea was right? What if he wanted his story to be told? That still didn’t change the fact that I’d published his diary. That is if he was real and this whole thing wasn’t just in my head.

  Honestly, I was more inclined to go with Matt’s theory. I had wanted Vincent to be real for a long tim
e. I could admit that to myself. Now here I was presented with a physical representation of the man I’d been dreaming of. Of course I was attracted to him. It was only natural that I would imagine he had all the attributes of the character he represented. After all, acting and movie making require just as much imagination as writing a book. I had just played along like he did and got caught up in the moment. Hadn’t I? Isn’t that what happens to actors sometimes?

  While I tried to convince myself of this I started running some water in the tub. I have a large tub that sort of sticks out of the wall and then sinks down into the floor. It is shaped like an oval and made of river rocks with a smooth granite bowl on the underside. I lit some candles and placed them around the edges of the tub. The soft musky fragrance of the bubble bath helped to soothe my nerves and so did the candlelight. My bathroom is a combination of soft cream and beige tones with the occasional splash of brown, gold or red that matches the bedroom.

  Then I remembered his words, “Loving me with your eyes.” Is that what I had been doing?

  “Shit. I can’t think about this anymore.”

  I walked back through the bedroom and down the stairs to the kitchen. I was going to do what my grandmother would call, “tying on a good one.” I mixed myself a vodka tonic and took the rest of the bottle of vodka with me upstairs along with a shot glass and a jar of olives. Luckily I wasn’t already drunk or I wouldn’t have remembered to put it all on my breakfast tray. I laughed at the thought of trying to carry all that upstairs. But then I remembered what I’d been trying to forget and quickened my pace.

  I wanted to relax and get good and drunk. I sat the tray on the large rim at the foot of the tub and went back into the bedroom to turn on some music. Opera should do the trick. Nothing calms my mind like soft, beautiful music. My cheeks flushed at the memory of how he had looked at me and I opened the balcony doors just a bit to let in the night breeze. The very thought of him made me want to get undressed and I decided to indulge. I let my cream silk robe fall to the floor as I walked back to the tub.

  A soft haunting melody began to play and I sighed contentedly. I had found the perfect music. Better yet, it was in Italian and I didn’t understand a word he was singing. How wonderful. Now I didn’t even have to think about the lyrics. I think everyone does that sometimes, especially if they’re drinking. Suddenly the words of every song seem to relate to you in some way. Well, now I didn’t have to worry about that.