They were red.
Blood red.
She pushed herself into the back of the tub. "What are you?"
He smiled. "I'm Scylla. But I'm also your dear, departed lover, Remi." He frowned but it wasn't a real frown, more a mockery of sadness. "He fought hard. Not physically, because my sister and some of our…associates…were able to paralyze he and his friends. Not all of them were good candidates. We chose this one, and one other. My sister wanted a female, and when she saw you in this man's mind, she knew you were perfect."
He reached down to touch her, but Rhonda buried her face in the towel. When she didn't feel him, she looked up again. He was staring at her. "What Remi told me…about waking up in the cemetery…" That's when this First Born took him. That had to be it.
"It took a few days to gain control. My kind aren't accustomed to possessing a body. Toying with one, yes. Influencing their dreams," he sighed. "Splendid. But to walk and talk and move inside one is both horrible and alluring. The sensual pleasures we take in our true forms is nothing compared to the real, actual physical contact."
Rhonda studied his face and realized the slash she'd given him with the knife was almost gone. So was the slit in his stomach. He healed like a Revenant, but she was pretty sure he wasn't. Not like she remembered.
"What are your kind?"
"You really don't know? I'm not a Revenant, little witch. I am Incubus. I am nightmares, passion, dreams, sensual desire, anger, horror, rage, pleasure… my sister and I are all of these things."
Rhonda shook her head. "No…Incubi are just delusions. They aren't real!"
She didn't expect the strike. But it came fast and sharp and turned her head to the side. Her nose bled again and she tried to curl away.
"Incubus!" He shouted now. "I am the only one left, Rhonda Orly. All my children are dead. Long burned inside that 'Pheral prison. I am the son of the mother of monsters and I can sense what you are. We seek revenge on the ones who did this to us. And we know what we can gain by taking…you."
It dawned on her that if he could read her mind, or tried to possess her, he would gain all the knowledge she had. He would know about the Society, about the Revenants and their whereabouts, about Nona, about Zoë and about Dags…and the Grimoire. "No…"
"Oh yes," Scylla said as he smiled. "My sister wanted to hold out for the perfect host. And now we found her."
Host?
Rhonda stared up at him. If he was an Incubus as he claimed, was it possible this sister was Succubus? "No…you can't make me. I know how this works. I have to invite you in."
Something shimmered in the air to his left. She thought it had a form at first, but it was little more than a bending of the bathroom door behind him, like a heat image on a summer's day. Something without form lingered there.
"Rhonda Orly…you think I'm one of them? One of those pretenders? What is it they call themselves….ah yes. The First Born?" The laugh deepened. "The only thing they were first born from was the whore who betrayed our mother. Oh we are not like that, Rhonda Orly. We have lived far longer and seen more than the oldest of their kind. We are timeless, and we have been shut away for too long."
The shimmering happened again and Scylla turned Remi's head toward it. That acknowledgement proved it was real. "Who…is that your sister?"
Scylla smiled. Other than the blood splattered across his face and the pools of it now dried on his lips and cheek, he was beautiful once again. Beautiful, and dangerous. "She's ready for her body now. Ready for your power."
"I told you, I don't have power anymore. I'm just a girl that doesn't want any part of this anymore!"
That's too bad. I wanted this to be easy.
The voice was in her mind, and in her ears. A woman's voice. Deep. Sensual. The voice any man would love to hear on the other end of their phone. A voice that would match a face to launch a thousand ships. And it echoed like a Revenant's voice.
The shimmering became larger as it filled the bathroom. Rhonda screamed when icy fingers clawed their way into her eyes, tore through her broken nose and filled her mouth, ending her scream.
February 30th
Dear Uncle,
What a quaint little devotional this is.
Sentimental indeed.
Well, let me tell you, Uncle Knowles, that your niece has achieved a higher calling now. So let us be done with this and bury you, along with all her earthly possessions.
Say hi to your niece for me.
Everything changed.
Her look, her walk, the way she breathed, and how she thought. What small part of who Rhonda Orly was lived on as a template for Scylla's sister. That part knew what took her, knew what possessed her body, and now knew what had escaped from a place no Ethereal or Abysmal dweller ever wanted to remember.
The Peripheral.
She was Charybdis now. Twin to Scylla. The monster and the whirlpool. He drove them to her, and she drowned them. They were mated by their souls and suffered immense pain and torment through the Bulwark, banished for what the Ethereals believed would be forever.
Stupid…
Six showers since taking this body. Six luxurious hours of streaming hot water. The blood from Scylla's body and Rhonda's was long gone, but she didn't feel…clean. It was an emotion that continued nagging as she and Scylla prepared the way to exploit the vast knowledge they gained from Rhonda's template.
So. Much!
And to think! To know where a part of the Grand Grimoire rested! How ingenious it was for her to seal it inside a living being. But how unfortunate not to leave a way to get it out. It would be useless to she and her brother if they didn't control that vessel. And she was pretty sure there were safeguards. Traps.
There were always traps.
Arguments. She and her brother fought over which way to go, what direction to take. He wanted to find the Wraith and strip the witch's powers back. He also believed infiltrating the Society was best. They had knowledge. Centuries of events she and he were not a part of, and perhaps a map to where their mother was buried.
Ah… Scylla. Always the bookworm. He had a face that could soften the most hardened soul and turn a peaceful culture to war, but he was always preoccupied by knowledge. Except during those rare but insightful moments when he craved lust, blood, and death.
She knew where the Grimoire's Guardian was. She wanted the book…but a smaller part of her wanted the young man holding the book. She knew that was the human part of the template. Something buried in that woman's subconscious. When Charybdis looked into that place, she found a wealth of seething, repressed hatred. Jealousy, anger, retribution, rage.
Rage at what the Ethereal Gabriel had done.
Rage at what the Wraith had done.
And rage at what she had done.
Self loathing.
Yuck! No. Charybdis did not want that, so she tossed it aside as if flicking a speck from her jacket.
And what a fine jacket! She modeled one of the witch's leather pea coats in the full length mirror of her room. It wasn't a bad body. It could be improved. With money
And Rhonda had access to a lot of money.
Scylla stepped into the room. He was dressed for traveling. "So this is it then?"
She stared at him. "It's your choice. I didn't ask you to leave."
"I think you're wrong. We need information. And we can get that information here."
"I'm going back to establish a power base, Scylla. We're going to need it."
"You have a power base. You don't need to return to the 'Pheral to check on it."
"Oh but I do," she said as she moved from the mirror and put her hands on her brother's cheeks. "Warmth. Can you cherish this feeling? This is what the Faerie value and I have it. I have a body! I can walk in the Material World, Scylla. We both can."
He gently removed her hands and clasped his fingers in hers. "You just don't see beyond the 'Pheral do you? There's more out there. The Ethereal and Abysmal still exist, Charybdis. Don't you want revenge
against those that locked us in that hell, that burned our minds and bodies? There are much larger issues at stake here than what the Faeries want."
"Of course I want revenge. I want the book! The book is where the spell is, where we will find a way to burn the Seraphim in its throne!"
"I know. And you can get the book. But not yet. We have to know more. We have to strategize—"
She wrenched her hands from him and stepped back. "You strategize all you want. I will act."
He looked sad. "Then you will fail, sister. And you will be burned again."
"Not if I have the book. The book has the spell that can free our mother!"
Scylla sighed. "Does it? That's what we've been lead to believe. But only one other knows that truth."
She smiled at him. "I'm not going on some hopeless journey to find our uncle, Scylla. I am going to get the book."
"Charybdis, we work better together. I think we should look into the Wraith. Now that you have that body, you know it no longer possesses magic. That creature stripped the key of the God Mother's blood from it."
Her eyes turned red with anger. "I thought you were lying." This much was true. She believed she would achieve power with this body. Power she could manipulate in the Material World. But it was gone. The blood still sang, but there was no one to hear its call. She turned back to the mirror. "We have the book, then we have the means to free out mother and destroy them all. Including this Wraith."
He leaned his head to one side. "Why are you protecting her? Is it the girl? Is there something of her soul still with you? I sensed from her thoughts she and the Wraith were friends."
"No," she hissed. "There is nothing left of her except what I want. And I want that book."
"We should look for our sibling—"
"Chimera will not help!" She reached up and grabbed his throat. Scylla didn't move. "He will only get in the way. He guards mother. I can sense him. We get the book and we get the spell."
Calmly, and with poise, Scylla removed his sister's hand from his neck. "You never did have patience."
"And I never will. Not until every one that hurt us, every one that betrayed us, and the one that burned us pays. You get your information. I will get the book. And then we will meet again and burn the Seraphim and all the Choirs in their home, just as they set us afire all those centuries ago."
They stood on the porch of Rhonda Orly's home and watched the white van. He turned to her and pulled his sister into his arms. Kissing her was his greatest pleasure, and hers. The men in the white van would see was a man name Remi, and a woman named Rhonda, parting.
He whispered to her. They are watching you.
They will never see me leave. Infiltrate them, brother. My Incubus.
He smiled at her.
My Succubus.
about the author
Phaedra Weldon is a writer and mother of one. Born in Pensacola, Florida, Phaedra was raised in the lush, green southern tropic of Georgia. She grew up on southern ghost stories told while eating marshmallows around campfires, or on the back of pick-up trucks in the middle of cornfields on chilly October nights. She worked as a Graphic Artist for over twenty years in the publishing and sign industries until she became a full time writer in 2009. Phaedra currently lives in Atlanta, Georgia with her husband and daughter.
This work and everything in it is the sole property of Phaedra Weldon. Any copying or reprinting will be prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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