Death of a Succubus

by Kim Schubert

  “You can’t be serious?” Anna asked as Logan began moving forward.

  I shrugged, “You can walk.”

  Logan loped ahead and I heard her cursing. Nestling my fingers in his thick coat, I fought the urge to lean down and wrap my arms around him. I still needed to stay alert for attacks, and survivors.

  We ran into no rogues but many humans. We told each the same thing, to head to the stadium, quickly. From the lack of screams around us, we hadn’t hit a hot zone.

  “Damn,” I said, sliding off Logan’s back.

  What? he asked.

  “I was hoping for some action,” I admitted.

  He shook his head.

  “Can you talk to all the shifters like that?” Anna asked. We hadn’t talked about my mate mark, but I assumed she knew.

  “I used to be able to read their thoughts, but since I’ve woken up, I haven’t heard them.”

  She nodded. “That’s a cool power.”

  “I’d rather stay out of their private thoughts, actually.” Although it had come in handy saving Logan. “Besides, it was a drain on my shields. I had to constantly block against it.”

  Anna nodded as a family of four came out of a building. The mother had her arm slung around a child no more than eight, while the father held a toddler.

  “What do we do?” they whispered.

  Logan lifted his head, scenting the air. I listened intently but didn’t hear anything.

  “Come on, come with us!” Anna yelled, picking up on something I wasn’t.

  They made their way to us, trembling at the sight of two large lions. Anna positioned them in between us and I felt the air change. That was new.

  “Incoming,” I warned her, pulling a sword.

  She did the same as we turned our backs to the family between us.

  “What’s — what’s coming?” the father whispered behind us, clutching his small child to his chest.

  “Rogues,” Anna answered. I couldn’t see her, but I imagined her stance looked similar to my own, ready and waiting.

  I finally heard them, sliding over metal with their claws, snarling and hissing before they emerged into the deserted street.

  “Come to momma,” I encouraged. They didn’t need it, didn’t slow at seeing us, but instead charged our group with renewed speed.

  I didn’t count as they spilled out from the alleyway, but I did draw a second sword. Darren snarled and we all took a step backwards to protect the humans.

  I swept up with a blow across a rogue’s chest, not a killing blow, but the downward sweep I followed with chopped its head off. I ducked under the next rogue’s attack of claws to my face, using my swords as scissors to chop its torso from its body.

  It was hard to tell genders in their beef jerky state. I carved my blade along a vertical line through its chest to be sure the job was finished as it flopped around on the ground before exploding in ash.

  Still in my crouched state, I drove my left sword up, slicing through the next rogue, hitting tough skin and brittle bones until dust rained down around me. I followed the movement of my sword, standing up before I changed directions to swipe the head off of another one.

  My side was killing me. Reaching down, I felt my warm blood spilling out. Some rogue had gotten a lucky slice in.

  With a grunt, I swung my sword over my head, pushing the pain away to carve, slice, and dice to protect the family behind us. I should have counted; I think I took out twenty on my own.

  I coughed out ash, squinting around at the deserted street, listening to the absolute and eerie silence. I groaned, wanting to sit down on the pavement, actually lying down sounded better. I did neither, turning to check on the family.

  They were trembling, crouched down with their children clutched tightly in their arms.

  “Alright, let’s get you guys to safety,” I said, trying to push assurance in my words.

  They nodded, standing slowly.

  You are hurt, Logan said.

  “I know,” I grunted, looking down at my now sticky side. “Let’s get them to safety and we can deal with it.”

  He huffed, not liking my answer. He bumped my hip with his shoulder and I slid on his back, grateful for the help.

  “There has to be only one left,” Anna surmised.

  I looked up at her, blinking. “What?”

  “The trailers, if there really were only four, we just took out one, there was one at the stadium, and we’re assuming one at the mansion, so there should be only one left,” Anna explained.

  I grunted, “Hopefully. It would be nice to think this was all over and I could go home and sleep.”

  Home, the word rebounded. I reached for my phone, calling Tommy.

  “Olie, are you okay?” he answered.

  “Yep, we are good. How’s everyone there?” I asked.

  “Blue is hurt pretty bad, but your dad and Jerry are working on him. The trailer dropped the rogues off right outside the mansion.”

  I cringed.

  “Any other causalities?” I asked.

  “Not that I can see, we haven’t been cleared to leave the safe room.”

  “Good, stay safe. There should only be one trailer left unaccounted for.”

  …

  We arrived back to the camp with a whole horde of survivors, some with bloody reminders of the rogue assault. I slipped off of Logan’s back with a groan. He shifted into a sexy naked man, picking at my shirt.

  I wished it wasn’t to look at my wound.

  “It’s not that bad,” I told him.

  He looked up at me. “You need stitches.”

  I groaned, “Let’s get them now. I’m not really sure how I feel about having scars.”

  He looked at me, surprised, walking through the masses gloriously naked. I tried not to snarl at the few women and men who gawked at him, I wasn’t successful.

  Myrtle saw us coming and cleared a cot for me, sitting me down roughly before probing my side.

  “Get clothing out of the brown box, Logan,” she commanded him.

  Logan grunted before strolling over to the box, pulling on a pair of gray sweats. The stares didn’t diminish. I suppose seeing a man turn into a lion and back would have that effect.

  Blowing out a breath, I winced as Myrtle shoved me roughly on my back.

  “Sorry kid, I don’t have time for my usual bedside manner.”

  “That’s assuming your usual bedside manner is an improvement,” I grunted at her.

  She huffed out a laugh. “That’s true, and since I haven’t worked on you before, you will just have to take my word, it’s better.”

  I hissed, pressing an arm over my eyes as she began to clean and sew. Logan’s hands stroked back my hair as he whispered sweet words to me.

  “You brought in quite a few survivors,” Myrtle commented, trying to get my mind off the steel poking into my flesh.

  “Any word on where the fourth trailer is?” Logan asked.

  I cringed; Myrtle was not a delicate seamstress. Her stitches better be fucking fantastic for this amount of pain.

  “Yes, they dropped it outside the Governor’s offices. He wouldn’t allow anyone to leave and seek safety. Hundreds are dead due to his ego.”

  “I should kill him,” I grunted.

  “Too late, one of the rogues got to him.” I jerked as she tied off the thread.

  Sitting up with Logan’s help, I looked around at the humans, dazed, bleeding, but helping each other. I hoped the human Hell did exist, and that Hash was now there, enjoying a variety of perverse tortures.

  “Go home, Olivia, take care of your own.” Myrtle gave me a firm pat.

  I grimaced, looking at Logan, who nodded his agreement.

  Chapter 12

  We arrived to the sidewalk and yard being hosed down by Hudson, completely in the nude. His body was littered with healing wounds.

  “Hey boss!” he called out, like he hadn’t just gone a few rounds with rogue vampires.

  “What are the casualtie
s?” Logan asked.

  Hudson’s face fell, his gaze turning to me. “Blue is stable, but it will take time for him to heal. We lost three vampires and two shifters. The human losses are far more substantial. Did you hear one of the trailers was dumped off in front of the Governor’s offices?”

  “We did,” Logan confirmed.

  “I haven’t heard about the fourth one,” Hudson continued.

  I pushed by them, letting Logan get Hudson up to speed, and into the house. I nodded my thanks to those who had put their lives on the line to protect my family.

  Tommy ran into my arms as soon as I cleared the living room. Ali and Grant were behind him, breathing out a relieved breath at my appearance. I held on to him until he pulled back, remembering he was a teenage boy who didn’t need anyone.

  “Is it over?” Ali asked.

  “I think so,” I told her.

  She breathed out a sigh. “Alright, let’s get things cleaned up,” Ali said, soothing children as she passed.

  …

  It was early the next morning when our doorbell rang. We had put everyone up at the mansion for the night, and Logan and I had kids camped out all over our floor.

  We had given up our bed to three of the older teenage girls, nesting down with the younger kids in a heaping pile of comforters and snuggles.

  It was just what my healing body needed, although sex would have been a pleasant addition.

  Logan lifted his head at me, a question in his eyes. “I’m not expecting anyone,” I told him.

  He nodded, shifting kids off him gently before we stood as a unit, making our way downstairs, me in my sports bra and shorts and Logan in his own black gym shorts.

  I picked up a gun, clicking off the safety, from a hidden fingerprint safe behind a vase. It really shouldn’t come as a surprise that I had high-tech safes hidden around the mansion.

  “Do you really think you need that? Whoever it is rang the bell,” Logan asked.

  “I’m still weak,” I hissed at him. “It makes me feel better.”

  Logan grunted, “I’m right here.”

  I cut him an annoyed glance as he unlocked the door and turned off the security alarm. It certainly wasn’t a dig at him. I just liked my firepower and had trust issues, and currently performance issues as well.

  Logan opened the door and I jerked back, surprised. “Mercer,” I said, stepping out of his way, “please come in.”

  Mercer took in our attire and my gun in one sweeping gaze.

  “What’s wrong?” Logan asked, scenting emotions I couldn’t.

  “Olivia, I need you to—“ He stopped, running a hand over his face.

  Mindy pushed the door open, coming to wrap her arms around my legs. She was eight or maybe nine now, but I picked her up easily, okay my stitches pulled a lot, as I did it one-handed because of the gun.

  “She’s dead,” Mindy whispered into my ear.

  My gaze jerked to Logan as I asked her, “Who, sweetie?”

  “Grams,” came her broken whisper next to my ear.

  My arms held her tighter. Logan reached out to cup my face; I hardly registered that he was saying my name or taking my gun from me. All I could hear was Mindy sobbing above my own ragged breathing.

  “No,” I whispered.

  Mindy’s sobs increased to wailing, a broken cry issuing from my own lips.

  Logan’s arms were around me, guiding me into a chair. He tried to pull her from my arms, but neither of us was letting go.

  Logan stroked my hair, rubbing Mindy’s back. I bowed my head into her shoulder, my chest heaving from my own tears.

  “What happened?” Logan asked, I assumed of Mercer.

  He sniffed, clearing his throat. “She was meeting with Hash at his office. The entire building was decimated.”

  “What do you need from us?” Logan pushed on, keeping his head.

  “I can’t locate any of her family. I assume Olie has everything in order,” Mercer finished on a whisper.

  I tried to stop crying and regain my ability to speak. “Get Ali and Grant—” I had to stop. I pressed my lips together to stop the sob. Swallowing hard, I squeezed out, “They have everything.”

  Logan nodded, clearly debating on leaving me. I shook my head and he went.

  My emotions were broadcasting and I heard doors opening. The kids filed downstairs, and I didn’t know how to handle any of it.

  …

  We buried Grams next to her husband and child in a small cemetery outside of St. Ann. She might have been human, but to me, she would always be a Supernatural. I sat there dressed in black, next to Logan and all the children, and felt nothing. A coldness had seeped into my body, which helped me re-build my guards, but did nothing to help me connect with the kids. I should have been there for them. I should have supported them, but I found myself unable to do much.

  “Olivia will be reading the eulogy,” the minister or pastor or whatever the fuck he called himself stated.

  I stood, smoothing out my dress, standing behind the podium, looking over Grams’s chestnut coffin and so many eyes looking back at me.

  “Grams was born Gretchen Master in a small town in Kansas. She grew up on a farm, enjoying the outdoors. At the age of nineteen, she fell in love with and married Kent Graw. Their son Danny was born eighteen months later.” I cleared my throat, willing the tears to evaporate. “Three years later, she lost them both to a home invasion, and traveled down a dark path of drug addiction and prostitution. But she, she still cared. She still loved and she, she still, tried.”

  I wiped my tears away, glad I hadn’t bothered with makeup. “That’s where I found her. I spent three weeks getting her off the drugs, at one point handcuffing her to a bathroom. And from there, we built an empire.”

  There was a lot I could have said about that empire, but I moved on.

  “Even though our paths had separated, she remains in our hearts the woman who helped us, who listened to us, who loved us when we were not so loveable. And that is who she shall be, forever.”

  I found Logan’s gaze, my heart torn apart by every tear the children cried, by the pulsing loss and grief that rolled over me in painful waves. He nodded, giving me a small smile. His unconditional love pushed into me from the mate mark. I knew it was there, but in my cold and detached state, I couldn’t respond.

  …

  After the funeral, Kass had organized a dinner, or meeting, or wake, or whatever it was called, for people who wanted to sit around and talk about Grams. There was supposed to be something therapeutic about it.

  I ended up on the roof of Halfling, hiding. Logan knew where I was; when I heard the door open, I assumed it was him.

  Instead, a sniffling Tommy came over, sitting heavily down next to me.

  I knew he blamed himself for it. I blamed myself for it. Neither of us was right.

  “It was Zachariah,” I said softly.

  He sniffed, his head hanging low, nodding at my words.

  “He must have sent those threatening pictures to Grams, encouraged Hash to pursue her politically, and kidnapped Blake’s niece,” I told him.

  Tommy shook his head. “I skipped school.”

  “He wanted Blake and Angelina to wed. To entrench himself in The Centennial House. I was in the way.”

  “This isn’t your fault,” Tommy said, turning to look at me.

  “Nor is it yours,” I told him.

  He looked away from me, neither of us believing the other.

  He cleared his throat, pulling himself upright. “What’s next?”

  I looked out across the skyline of St. Ann. “I need to unlock my magic, bring the unicorns and mermaids over.”

  “Have you given thought to properties?” Tommy asked, drying his eyes, steel resolve replacing his grief.

  “Isolated for the unicorns, high male population for the mermaids.”

  “There are no male mermaids?” Tommy asked, surprised.

  “I don’t think so. The mermaid I met said they need hum
an males to procreate.”

  He nodded, no doubt thinking.

  “What about Anna?” Tommy asked. I felt his mixed emotions.

  “I don’t know. She’s welcome to stay, but I doubt she will.”

  He ground his jaw, looking at the skyline with me. “So this is our new normal? Logan, Anna, Ali and Grant?”

  I nodded. He turned to me. “What about the damn vampires?”

  I groaned. “I don’t know. The human government is going after them exceptionally hard. I imagine we will hear about it.”

  “Logan did kill two Master Vampires, which is impressive, by the way.”

  I nodded. “He’s evolving, getting stronger. No doubt, the vampires will see him as a threat.”

  “You are a power duo and now you have access to other dimensions. You are both threats.”

  I nodded, reaching over to pull him close. “I don’t want to think about that now.”

  Tommy rested his head against my shoulder and we sat in silence.

  So much had changed in a short time. I had gained a father, lost my adoptive mother, regained a sister, and survived a mass slaughter attempt. I would be lying if I claimed to have processed it all. Sitting in the dying light with Tommy snuggled up against me, I knew one truth.

  We were going to be fine. The makeshift family I had created would survive this and thrive.

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  Other books by Kim Schubert:

  Dead Shifter Walking, The Succubus Executioner Book 1

  Demigod Down, The Succubus Executioner Book 2

  A Witch’s Fury, The Succubus Executioner Book 3

  A Council of Betrayal, The Succubus Executioner Book 4