Death of a Succubus

by Kim Schubert

  They were fucking lucky.

  I headed into the stone opening, finding a claw foot tub full of steaming water. I sighed, alright, that I could get used to. Could I wash in my soul state? Guess I was going to find out.

  …

  Lying heavily in their bed, Logan sighed as he listened to Ginny’s baby monitor and the white noise machine, his arm behind his head.

  Things at the Centennial House hadn’t gone well, at all, they’d gone straight to Hades, quickly. Logan had pushed Tate right into Zachariah’s arms. No, that wasn’t right. Tate was weak as a leader; his inability to protect his House was going to cause everyone a nightmare.

  How could Logan fix it? How could he feed an entire houseful of vampires?

  The only option he saw was posting patrols around the House, waiting for the vampires to lose their shit. Unless Tate really did take Zachariah’s deal. The house would be fed, wouldn’t it?

  Fucking vampire politics. His numbers were not never-ending, and those currently protecting his house were missing work and their lives to be sure everyone was protected.

  At least Hudson had been able to track down Raphael. That was an unexpected bonus. Let’s hope the self-proclaimed “protector” lived up to his name.

  Actually, maybe Raphael would watch Centennial House. It wasn’t a terrible idea. Why was Zachariah entrenching himself in that House, anyway?

  Did it matter? It wouldn’t to Olivia, but it did to him. This couldn’t all be because Olivia killed his vampire child who had kidnapped Tommy, could it?

  His thoughts circled around, until finally he slept.

  …

  I stared out the narrow window, so fucking tired of the color red. I wanted caramel eyes and dark blond hair. I wanted pizza and dessert. I wanted to be whole. I wanted my mate. Drawing a breath, I turned away from the window.

  I missed Logan, his emotions flowing along with him, his protective nature, his snoring. Okay, I didn’t really miss his snoring. But I probably wouldn’t complain about it, maybe, for a while.

  Chapter 4

  Morning came, chasing away the darkest red and steeping the miserable expanse of dirt in pale yellows. I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. I needed to get back to my body and back home. This little game of scavenger hunt needed to pick up the fucking pace.

  I went back into the same stone room to splash cool water on my face before I dressed in yesterday’s clothing. Or four days ago’s clothing or whatever. I slouched onto the cot, picking up my pack to eat stale bread and hardened cheese.

  I really missed pizza.

  The door opened, but it wasn’t Doyle or The Magician—my father.

  A slight woman in a pale blue dress blinked her large brown eyes at me. She looked down the hall before looking back at me.

  “What do we have here?” she asked, her voice high-pitched and grating. The pitch didn’t match her soft outward appearance.

  I raised an eyebrow, not letting my eyes flick to where I had laid my daggers.

  “Cat got your tongue, my dear?” she asked, closing the door behind her with a sway of her slim hips.

  I leaned back against the wall, keeping my hands relaxed in my lap. My daggers were hidden under the crumpled up black dress I was using as a pillow. Some habits are impossible to break. I was glad I hadn’t placed my trust in the wards The Magician had placed. I was also slightly disappointed.

  Logan had been pissed to find my daggers in the mansion with Ginny in our bed. I argued, all the more reason to keep weapons close by. He didn’t share my logic, but of course, he grew claws.

  I tilted my head at her as she sat down on The Magician’s stool, tapping her olive fingers against the wooden top.

  “Oh, come on now, you can tell me, my dear. How a sweet thing like you wandered into The Magician’s clutches?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. I could feel her power wash over me, trust and safety bathing my body.

  “Nice try,” I told her dryly.

  Her eyes narrowed at me. “Why, he has picked up quite a rarity. I wonder if the Queen knows,” she taunted.

  The door opened again and The Magician walked in. He ignored the woman sitting on his chair, although her posture went rigid, fear leaking off her pores.

  My father handed me a plate with eggs and toast. I inhaled deeply before digging in. Doyle closed the door, not moving his large body from in front of it as he crossed his hairy arms over his repaired green tunic.

  “Has she bothered you at all?” The Magician asked me.

  “Nope, just being nosy,” I said around a mouthful of food.

  The Magician nodded before turning to face the woman.

  “Delores, what do you think you are doing in my workroom?”

  I couldn’t see her through his back, but the quiver in her voice was evidence enough that my father was a powerful force to be reckoned with. Nice. If I was throwing my lot in blindly, at least I was throwing in with a powerful ally, even if he might be the bad guy. Based on my mother, I was picking between shitty and shittier.

  “The Queen wishes an audience,” Delores stated, changing the subject.

  “Really? Why would she wish that?” The Magician asked.

  “She heard about the griffin feathers,” Delores answered, quite compliant.

  Doyle rumbled, “It was only a matter of time.”

  “Yes,” The Magician agreed, “I suppose it was.”

  “Leave us, we will present her after she eats and dresses.” The Magician waved a dismissive hand and Delores sprang from her borrowed seat, fleeing the room. Doyle lumbered to the side, his deep set eyes watching her intently as she fled.

  The Magician occupied her abandoned seat, turning gravely serious eyes upon me. “I was hoping to avoid this meeting.”

  “Who is the Queen?” I asked, setting my empty plate down.

  “Your mother, the most powerful succubus,” Doyle answered.

  “Great, will she know I’m her daughter?” I asked.

  The Magician and Doyle both shrugged. “She has given away many children over the years. I’m not sure she cares of the blood relation. She only cares to assess your power, whether you are a threat to her,” The Magician explained.

  “Ah, so I need to be very, very corporeal.”

  “Yes,” they answered in unison.

  I picked up the black dress I had been using as a pillow. “Any chance you can magic this wrinkle free?”

  He smiled and the dress floated up, in perfect condition.

  “That’s handy.” I went into the stone room to change, running damp hands over my hair, trying to tame it into something presentable.

  “Let’s get going. I can’t imagine the Queen has an abundance of patience.” If she was anything like me, or I suppose, if I was anything like her.

  The Magician cracked a smile. “That she does not. Let me do the talking.”

  “Gladly,” I grunted. I knew the shit my temper and mouth got me into.

  We turned right, and my steps slowed as we headed to the sunken, polished room. This time, a golden throne sat at the head, occupied by a woman who looked damn similar to me, staring daggers at me. Well, hello to you too, mother.

  “Magician, so good of you to join us,” she purred, her strawberry blond hair piled high on top of her head. A delicate golden crown intertwined through her locks, chandelier earrings with red diamonds drooping heavily from her lobes. Around her neck twisted more gold, in the form of a serpent. I was curious if it was real.

  “What can I do for you, my Queen?” he asked, his tone bored. He didn’t bow, standing instead with his legs braced wide and his hands clasped behind his back. Doyle hung back to his left and I mirrored the position on his right.

  I wished I had daggers.

  “I heard you’ve obtained quite a collection of griffin feathers,” she taunted, crossing her legs, her wine dress sliding up to her tan hip. Apparently, underwear wasn’t a thing here, or at least it wasn’t for her.

  The Magician sta
yed silent, but I caught the twitch of his lip from the corner of my eye.

  The Queen stood, her jewelry chiming together, her dress opening up to drape over her amble bosom. She descended the steps, her bare feet kissing the polished stone. She ignored The Magician, staring into my eyes.

  “And what do we have here?” she crooned. I stared into her eyes, trying hard not to compare our noses or our large eyes and full lips. I saw the intelligent gleam in her gaze, calculating and savvy, but what I felt was a coldness.

  She walked around me slowly, her delicate feet adorned in matching gold chains. I cringed, feeling her eyes appraising me. Coming around, she brushed a hand against my bare shoulder. I felt the push of compliance into me before she stopped back in front of me, her wine skirt flowing elegantly behind her.

  “Who are you, my dear?” she asked, a smug smile on her lips.

  I stared at her, blinking once, lips sealed. She placed her palm against my exposed neck, wrapping her exquisite digits around my throat. She tried pushing compliance again. I felt the barest flick to obey her before I brushed it away.

  “I said, who are you?” Her eyes looked nothing like my own, anger darkening them.

  I took a step forward; she held her ground and I smiled.

  “I’m a decision come to haunt you,” I whispered, proud of my clever words.

  Fear flashed in her eyes for only a second before she shoved me. “Foolish child, you will not speak to me that way!” Obedience hung heavily in the air.

  I braced myself on a step back before shoving her back. “Bitch, I do what the fuck I please,” I hissed.

  We squared off, circling, and I was really wishing for daggers to cut my bitch of a mother down to size. A small part of me cried, I’ll admit. I had hoped for some sort of sorrow or joy at finding me. I wanted an apology for being discarded.

  But instead I was now about to brawl with the bitch. The anger seared my insides and I rejoiced in it.

  “Enough!” The Magician commanded.

  The Queen stopped moving, but I didn’t take my eyes off of her.

  “Who she is does not concern you,” he continued to boom.

  “The griffin feathers do,” she hissed, turning to storm in his face.

  I fought a protective instinct to guard him. He was a big boy who could take care of himself, but I needed him to get home. Plus, my mother had wounded me; I wanted the opportunity to return the favor.

  “Yes, the griffin feathers do,” my father admitted. He examined his fingernails.

  The Queen held her head high, having won that round. I gritted my teeth, watching her sway back to her throne. She sat grandly, assistants fluffing out her minimal dress.

  “How do you plan on repaying me for the death of such a fine creature?” she asked smugly.

  “An elixir of course, to magnify your already powerful charms,” The Magician answered.

  The Queen leaned forward, exposing her chest. “I’m listening.”

  “Of course, it will take some time,” he continued. I’ll say this for the man claiming to be my father, he had patience, cunning, and vampire-like political skills.

  She leaned back in her throne. “I care not for the time, Magician.” She waved her hand dismissively. “We have nothing but.”

  I didn’t look at The Magician. Not all of us had ample time.

  He inclined his head, turning to face me. I watched him closely, preparing to turn.

  “Oh, and daughter,” my mother began. My father’s face drained of color before he turned to face her. I steeled myself, ready for a brawl. Doyle at my back had the same thought, standing close behind me. “How did you get away from Selena and back to us?”

  My father reached for me, probably to silence me as I stepped closer to her. “Selena is dead.”

  The Queen hissed at me, “You lie.”

  I smiled, “No, I don’t.” I was happy to piss her off with the truth.

  She stood, her jewelry smashing together. “Selena has been a vital part of our survival here. You wouldn’t dare kill such a powerful vampire and someone we depend on.”

  “She’s been dead for almost eight years. Apparently, you’ve been surviving just fine without her,” I answered, crossing my arms over my chest. I couldn’t believe this was my mother. She was a disgusting piece of work, even if she was beautiful.

  The Queen narrowed her eyes at me. “And what do you know of this? Are you an expert on our survival?”

  “Your gold jewelry states all is well in your realm,” I answered.

  She sneered at me, “You know nothing.”

  “I know enough.” I took a step forward. “You are a heartless, selfish leader, who sold her child to a monster.”

  “Children,” my father amended.

  “Sold your children,” I repeated, shaking my head. “I have no need for you and less respect. Save your pathetic mind games for someone who gives a fuck.”

  She stepped down from her throne and my father groaned. “How dare you speak to me in such a manor? I will have your life.”

  I smiled. “Many have tired, none have succeeded. Least of all a spoiled brat.”

  “I am the Queen Succubus!” she roared, holding her hands outstretched. The air vibrated and I knew she was pushing fear into the air. Her minions behind her bowed, trembling. The Magician stiffened his stance next to me.

  “Oh, enough!” I yelled. I felt for my shields, wrapping them around my father and Doyle, who was growling lowly behind me. “You can’t hurt me and you can’t influence me. I am your daughter and apparently that has afforded me some protection against your insanity.”

  “Get her out of my sight!” she screamed. Doyle picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

  “This isn’t over!” I screamed back. I was going to end that bitch.

  “No, it isn’t.” Her voice followed me down the hallway.

  Doyle set me down inside The Magician’s workroom. I was raring for a weapon.

  “What is wrong with you?” my father hissed, backing me against the wall. “Why did you taunt her like that?”

  “Because I can,” I answered, pushing his hands off of me. “I am no slave. I am no servant. I have paid for my freedom in blood and pain. No one, least of all some selfish bitch, will take it from me.”

  He rubbed his forehead, groaning under his breath. “She is going to have you killed,” he warned, sharing a worried look with Doyle.

  “She can try. I’m not easy to kill.”

  The Magician nodded. “Right. Let’s get ready for today. We are heading to the Oasis for a shadow lark.”

  “Is that a bird?” I asked, picking up my clothing from the day before.

  “A plant, actually,” he answered, turning to his workbench.

  I nodded, moving into the stone bathroom to pull off the black dress, leaving it in a pile on the floor.

  “You need to strengthen the wards,” Doyle said.

  I slowed down my dressing, wanting to hear their conversation.

  “I am aware. Lilith will send her best mages to break down my protections,” The Magician said. I stopped dressing, my head tilted toward the ceiling. My mother, The Queen, was named Lilith. I closed my eyes. I don’t believe in coincidences; my money was on her as the inspiration for the biblical demon whore who sucked out the souls of men. Good to know I’d been fighting against the stereotype she created for my entire life.

  I finished dressing, picking up the black dress and laying it back on the cot.

  “How many more ingredients do we need to break through to my dimension?” I asked, securing the blades across my chest.

  “Anxious to return now that you have poked the giant?” The Magician asked.

  My movement stilled and I turned to him. “I am not afraid of her. I have faced worse and survived. I am anxious to return to my mate and my life.”

  “Mate?” My father straightened up at the word.

  “You have a mate?” Doyle asked as well.

  I rubbed the back of
my neck, wishing my mark was still with me. “Yes, I have a mate. I have a Council that I rule and my mate is the Alpha of our country.”

  “You are a Queen in your own right,” my father said, sitting back down with a look of wonder.

  I furrowed my brow at him. “I protect those who can’t protect themselves. I defend the defenseless, the weaker, those our society has cast out and deemed unworthy. I am not a Queen. I am an Executioner. Being mated to Logan just happened.”

  “You miss him,” Doyle observed.

  I strapped the long dagger to my thigh, replying, “Very much,” before meeting each of their gazes. “Nothing will stop me from getting back to him and the children.”

  The Magician nodded. “We have a handful of items left to procure. The hardest was the griffin feather. It should hopefully get easier from here.”

  I nodded. It didn’t matter, easier or harder, I would obtain it all.

  “How long will the portal be open for?” I asked, slinging my pack over a shoulder. I was hoping we were heading to the kitchen again. I had eaten most of my food.

  “Only a short time,” The Magician answered. “You will have to go through in an orb.” He closed the door behind us, laying his hand on the worn wood. Symbols flared to life before they dimmed.

  He flexed his hand, continuing toward the kitchen. “An orb?” I questioned. I wanted to know how Delores had gotten in through that door, but the answer could piss me off and I needed him, at least for now.

  He nodded, casting a look around us. I took the hint and tabled my questions.

  In the kitchen, the same woman eyeballed me as I took my provisions.

  “I heard you had quite the conversation with your mother,” she commented, casting a sly smile as she kneaded dough.

  I groaned, “Yeah, we agreed to kill each other.” I sniffed the bread in my hand before looking at her.

  She laughed, “You have nothing to fear from me. I’d appreciate a change in leadership.”

  I grunted. I wasn’t corporeal anyways, could poison hurt me? Guess we’d find out.

  “The food is safe,” my father informed me, loading his own pack.

  “That’s what I said,” the cook sneered at him.

  “Let’s go. I’ve had enough bickering for one day,” The Magician stated. I groaned, following Doyle out.