The Succubus

by Megan Derr

  "Fine," Nerek said.

  "Fine," Kohar repeated bitingly.

  By the time they reached the village, Kohar wanted to scream. Or push Nerek off his horse and leave him there on the ground to freeze to death. Stifling a sigh, Kohar hailed the first villager he saw, dismounting to better speak with her.

  The local baker was a large, looming woman who wouldn't hurt a fly, unless that fly got into her dough. "Greetings," Kohar said with a smile, and exchanged pleasantries for several minutes before finally inquiring after the missing soldier.

  "Don't know nothing about that," the woman replied. "Castle folk come and go as they please, we couldn't keep track of 'em even if we wanted to."

  "Thank you for your time." Kohar mounted his horse again, bid her good day, and followed a scowling Nerek off further into the village.

  It took them three hours of asking and searching before the village chief could be bothered to bestir herself from her breakfast and escort them to a ramshackle hut a few miles south of the village belonging to a shepherdess known for generally keeping to herself, but who apparently hadn't been able to resist Corporal White's wiles.

  Grumbling, wishing desperately for his bed or a hot meal, Kohar gladly left Nerek to do all the socializing with their officious escort. Left mercifully to his own devices, minus the occasional poisonous look from Nerek for being abandoned to a chatty person, Kohar mentally went over the inks he would be making, all the steps entailed—and the writing he would be doing through the night and well into morning.

  They hadn't even reached the cabin when they came upon a woman sobbing hysterically, who shrieked when she saw the chief and started shouting about a dead woman, it wasn't her fault, she didn't know what happened.

  Kohar shared a look with Nerek. Leaving the chief to handle the woman, they rode as swiftly as they safely could to the cabin. Reaching it, Nerek dismounted almost before his horse had come to a halt and strode to the door, throwing it open so hard Kohar was amazed it didn't fall off its hinges.

  He stood in the open doorway, and after a moment beckoned Kohar to join him, face grim. The cabin was small, just one room, with a lean-to on the right side for storing food. On the rough-hewn bed, sprawled across a sheep-skin blanket, was a woman who had died in the middle of what should have been a good dream.

  Kohar didn't want to think about what the poor lover must have thought, teasing a dreaming lover, thinking she would wake any moment, only…

  "When I find the rat responsible, I am going to tear them limb from limb," Nerek said. "After I beat them half to death."

  "Don't forget to force-feed them their own genitals—I liked that bit," Kohar replied. That almost got him a smile. The shadows in Nerek's eyes eased at least, which was all Kohar had hoped for. "What do we do now?"

  "I'll send some men to recover the body. Let's speak with the woman, see if by some miracle she can tell us anything useful."

  Kohar sighed. "If she snuck out early, before even I was awake, the number of people she encountered must have been limited."

  "No one could, or would, say exactly when she left, but her shift ended at midnight. She likely snuck out almost immediately after. Solla arrived not long after that; I'll have to ask him when we get back if he saw something on his way in."

  Back in the village, he left Nerek to go speak with the poor shepherd woman while he gathered the components he needed.

  His first stop was Madame Karen, who was displeased he didn't come bearing her spell—until he explained why he was there. In short order, he had every component she could provide, and a direction to get the one she didn't.

  That direction was back to the village baker, and then the blacksmith, where Kohar didn't bother to ask why a humble village blacksmith was keeping something as dangerous as powdered dragon poppy around. He paid for the three measures of it he needed, promised to forget the entire exchange, and headed back across the village to the chief's house.

  Nerek was already waiting for him outside, stroking the nose of his horse and murmuring softly to it, face drawn, shoulders sagging. A sudden urge to go and hug him, reassure him, washed over Kohar. Was he losing his mind? He shook the strange impulse off—Nerek would likely clobber him even if he did try it—and made certain to approach noisily.

  Stepping back from his horse and setting his shoulders once more, Nerek looked up at him. "Get what you need?"

  "Enough for one spell, anyway," Kohar said. "As feared, I can't get what I need for the expelling part, but we'll worry about that later. What did the woman have to say?"

  Nerek swung up into his saddle. "Not much, unfortunately. White arrived around two in the morning, give or take, and they had a small meal, enjoyed themselves in bed, then fell asleep. The woman woke up a few hours later, and…well, you can extrapolate the rest."

  "Did she meet anyone on the road?"

  "Not that she bothered to mention to her lover," Nerek said with a sigh. "I suppose that would be too easy. Come on, let's go home. There's nothing more to learn here."

  Silently and swiftly they made the long trek back to the castle.

  They were only a mile or so from it when a soldier came rushing toward them, breathless and frantic. "Captain! Captain! Another is dead! One of the stable hands this time."

  "What?" Nerek roared. "Everyone was ordered to stay awake at all costs, who in the Regions dared to disobey me?"

  The soldier swallowed but did not cower away from his furious captain. "We don't know, sir. Don't think he meant to…"

  Kohar swore loudly, barely noticing he used the exact same tone and phrasing as Nerek. They shared a look. "Come on," Nerek said sharply, breaking into his thoughts, kicking his horse into a gallop.

  Kohar promptly did the same, the soldier who had come to find them close on their heels.

  When they reached the castle a short time later, Kohar threw himself off his horse and tossed the reins at whomever was standing nearest, then bolted into the keep and through the halls to his chambers. Swinging a cauldron of water over the fire, he dumped the items in his satchel onto his work table, swept it clear of the other projects he'd been working on, and gathered the remaining components he would need.

  Once he had all the components laid out, he set to work preparing them. Most of the powdered ones needed only to be turned into pastes so they'd blend more easily when he added them to the water. Others, like the della weed and heart-of-sun, needed to be cooked down in his table cauldron and then turned into paste.

  Nerek appeared briefly in the midst of his work to tell him two more had died.

  "I'm hurrying as best I can."

  "I know."

  They shared an agonized silence, and then each got back to work.

  He'd just finished setting the ink aside to cool before he added the final two components and then bottled it when the sound of his door opening drew him again.

  He looked up again and smiled tiredly at Solla, wondering why he felt disappointment instead of excitement.

  "You have been in here for hours," Solla said, frowning. "Have you made any progress?"

  Kohar nodded. "Yes, the ink is nearly ready. Once it's done, all I have to do is write the spell." He took a swallow of the stale tea he'd prepared and then forgotten about at some point.

  "I'm sorry I can't be of more help to you and Nerek."

  "It's not your problem to attend," Kohar replied, biting back that there was plenty Solla could be doing—helping keep people awake, helping Nerek question people, helping the distraught staff. Instead he did nothing, and didn't seem terribly sorry about it, whatever his words.

  "Mm," Solla murmured noncommittally. He reached out and gently pushed back bits of hair which had come loose to fall across Kohar's cheeks, stroking his skin gently, fingers lingering on his cheekbone before finally pulling away. "It is a shame that all this trouble colors my visit, and that Nerek is being his usual self."

  The earlier fight with Nerek came back to Kohar in full, and how frustrating that he agr
eed wholly with Nerek: this was the wrong time for Solla to be doing this. Why now, of all times, was Solla showing an interest in him?

  And why, for the love of all the Regions, was he not enjoying it the way he'd always thought he would? Instead he just wanted to smack him for being so rude about Nerek—his cousin and captain of the soldiers who comprised the vast majority of the dead.

  "Nerek's people are dying, and now staff we've known for as long as we've been here. I think his behavior is understandable."

  "I suppose there is that…thankfully he has you to help him, though I doubt he appreciates that." His gaze dropped to Kohar's mouth. "I am told you come highly praised by those who know the ways of magic. Very highly praised."

  "I just want to be good at what I do, same as most," Kohar said quietly, turning away—only to be yanked back and forcefully kissed. He tried to pull away, but Solla held him fast.

  The sound of the door opening made Solla finally release him, and Kohar glared at him a moment before turning to see Nerek glaring at them. Not a glare, no…that expression was far too icy and cold to be a glare. His eyes were as bitter and hard as winter.

  He was holding a tray of food and cider.

  Without a word, Nerek set the tray on the table by the door, then turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him.

  "I need to get back to work," Kohar snapped. "You should go."

  "Of course," Solla murmured. "Perhaps we can speak again later."

  Nodding reflexively as he turned away, Kohar fussed with his ink until the door mercifully opened and closed behind him. His stomach churned, remembering the look on Nerek's face. Had he just ruined their tenuous friendship with Solla's ill-timed attempts at flirting?

  He scrubbed at his mouth, banishing the lingering feel of Solla's lips. How could he have wanted the man for years, practically since his arrival when they'd first met during a rainstorm or something, only to now feel increasing dread?

  And how disappointing to find out the man was an appalling kisser. If that was how he treated women, maybe he'd had no choice but to start trying men. Kohar snorted a weak laugh and set to work on his ink, pulling the cooled cauldron and last set of components close.

  Work, however, quickly became impossible, as he fought yawn after yawn, and his vision grew increasingly unfocused. What was wrong with him? Surely he shouldn't be this tired? He rubbed his eyes and then looked around for his tea. Hopefully an extra-strong cup would take the edge off and let him get this done.

  He'd just set it to brewing when his door opened again, and his heart trip-trapped as he turned—and disappointment crashed over him as he saw not Nerek but Bedros.

  Who chuckled and gave him a look Kohar didn't entirely understand. "Sorry I'm not Nerek, though I came about him. What in the Regions did you do to set him off? I finally had to order him to his office. It's bad enough we've got a demon running around this place, I don't need Nerek killing people as well."

  Kohar made a face and tersely explained what had happened.

  "Poor Nerek," Bedros said when he was done, sighing. "Well, I'll let the two of you work that out, though if my opinion matters at all, Kohar, you are better off rid of your silly infatuation."

  As much as Kohar hated to admit it, he agreed. Solla's pretty face was proving to be the only interesting thing about him, and even that seemed less appealing by the minute, with the memory of Nerek's cold expression and the horrid kiss still fresh in his mind.

  Regions, he was making no sense to himself anymore. Sighing, he turned back to finish making his tea, fighting yet another bone-cracking yawn.

  "What's the progress on your ink?"

  "It just needs to cool enough for me to work with," Kohar replied. "If I try too soon, the ink will run instead of holding. But not much longer now. I've been looking over the spell to ensure I get all the little details right, and it's more apparent with each rune that only a mage of impressive skill could do this."

  "So this errant monk is at least as good as you?"

  "Better. Much better. If the situation wasn't so dire, I wouldn't even be attempting the spells I'm about to write. I would love to know what my brother did to this mystery monk that he's decided to exact revenge by killing a bunch of people he's never even seen, who live months away and have nothing to do with anything."

  "Sounds like a lovers' quarrel, if you ask me," Bedros said. "Love scorned, and all that. Immaterial, in the end. We don't need to know why—we just need to stop it."

  Kohar set down his tea and stood to go check the ink—and dropped right back down as a wave of dizziness overtook him, followed by an exhaustion so heavy, it was all he could do to stay awake. "Something is wrong with me." He reached up as another wave of exhaustion and dizziness struck him—and felt something on his cheek, foreign and familiar all at once.

  A stone dropped into his stomach as he pulled his fingers away and rubbed them together, slick, warm wax spreading from his thumb, which had touched his cheek, to the rest of his fingers. He pulled out his monocle with his other hand, which trembled faintly, and held it to his eye. The dregs of magic gleamed, and another stone joined the first in his gut.

  Nearby, Bedros had gone still. "What's wrong?"

  "Rune wax," Kohar said, and bolted across the room to where he kept emergency tonics, ripping the wax-sealed top off and guzzling it down, hoping it would counter the worst of the sleeping spell that had been woven into the whole mess. Damn it to the Regions, he should have thought of that!

  "Who in the Regions put it there?" Bedros asked.

  Fury coiled through Kohar. "Solla is the only one who's touched me bare skin to bare skin today. That cretin." The hot anger turned abruptly to cold fear as a new realization struck. "Nerek. If he's tried to get me, he'll try to get to Nerek. He must have realized that with my making the ink, his time had run out, so he's finishing the job."

  Not waiting for Bedros's reply, he threw open the library door and ran as fast as he could down the hall, pushing the door open and bolting down the stairs, nearly slipping several times, then onward to the armory. He shoved startled soldiers from his path, screaming Nerek's name, until he finally reached Nerek's office.

  Practically kicking the damn door open, he bolted inside—and stopped in horror as he saw Nerek fast asleep, slumped over at his desk. Shoving his monocle into place, Kohar sought out the mark—there, on Nerek's hand. He strode across the room and used his tunic to wipe it off, then tried to shake Nerek awake.

  No good. Kohar forced him to sit up, then tried slapping him. Then punching. All that got him was a sore hand. Ugh, he always forgot just how much it hurt to punch someone.

  Damn it, there must be some way to save Nerek. There had to be. "You stupid bastard! I'll kill you myself if you let a stupid demon get the better of you!"

  Looking frantically around, his eyes lighted upon fireplace—more specifically, the poker propped against it. Nerek would kill him—but at least Nerek would be alive to kill him.

  Grabbing it up, he thrust the poker into the fireplace and willed it to heat up quickly. When he could not bear to stand still any longer, he turned around and strode back to the sleeping Nerek. Not giving himself time to think about it, he held the hot poker to Nerek's side.

  After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, Nerek woke with a scream, jerking hard enough he tipped his chair backwards, crashing to the floor, swearing and trying to hold both his head and his side while struggling to stand

  "You stupid bastard!" Kohar said, pounding on his chest. "I can't believe you fell asleep! I'm going to throw you in the fireplace! You stupid, stupid, stupid—"

  "Yes, I get it," Nerek said, grabbing his wrists and forcing him to still. "What's going on? Why are you trying to burn me alive?"

  "You fell asleep! Your stupid, backstabbing, cretin of a cousin is the one who's been putting the runes on people."

  Nerek's eyes widened, then narrowed, and his face turned even colder than it had when he'd walked in on Solla kissing Koha
r. "I'm a fucking fool. I just assumed—" He let go of Kohar's wrists, stepped back, hands flexing and unflexing. "I'll kill him myself." He looked around the room, as though expecting Solla to appear for execution, then finally swept back to land on Kohar. "Are you all right? Did he get you?"

  "Oh, he got me all right," Kohar said bitterly. "That certainly explains why he's suddenly shown interest in me, why he forced that awful kiss on me."

  "He what?" Nerek said, a look flickering over his face that Kohar didn't understand. "You…weren't kissing him by choice?"

  "People are dying, of course I wasn't kissing him by choice!" Kohar bellowed. "I told you before, I have been doing nothing but trying to focus on this problem. He's the one who keeps pressing me. All because he apparently had a job to do." He raked back his hair, which must have come loose when he was running madly through the keep to save Nerek. "Figures the only person in this whole place who wants to kiss me really only wanted me dead."

  "The only person—" Nerek cut off with a rough noise and several words Kohar couldn't understand, but were probably some choice crudities. "You're a damned fool, and after I've dealt with Solla, I'm dealing with you."

  "What in the world did I do wrong?" Kohar demanded. "I just saved your—" The sentence turned into a startled yelp as Nerek yanked him in close, right up against that ridiculous chest, the leather armor uncomfortable but warm and solid. "Nerek?"

  Nerek's reply was to kiss him. Kohar's eyes popped wide, lips parting with surprise, and Nerek took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

  Which was nothing at all like Solla's sad attempt. No, this was a kiss. Kohar had no idea what was going on, except that it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to throw his arms around Nerek's neck and kiss him back full measure.

  His mouth was hot, consuming, the kiss as bossy and controlling as the rest of him, and damned if Kohar didn't like that. A lot.

  Eventually, though, they had to draw apart. Reality crashed over him like snow falling from a roof. Nerek had kissed him.

  Suddenly a whole lot of little things added up to a picture he really should have seen sooner.