The Innocent

by Candice Raquel Lee

  “I don’t want to be bothered,” I sighed, leaning on the counter. “I’m the Lord of Manhattan. My plate’s full keeping the city free of bad guys. I don’t have time to diaper a new succubus.”

  “Oh, so you are frightened,” he somehow surmised.

  “I’m not frightened,” I growled.

  “Listen. We all have to do it one day,” he said, sagaciously. “It’ll be good for you.”

  “Good for me?” How could the ruination of my life be good for me?

  “Yes,” he said, confidently. “It is another stage in your life, in your maturing. Instead of taking life energy, you will be giving. You can do it.” He nodded seriously and started away.

  “Hey!” I said, not pleased with his insinuation. “I know I can do it. I just don’t want to. Don’t you have something? Some kind of repellent or anti-Compulsion pill?”

  He turned back, his loose shirt dancing around him. He sighed. “Since you are so set against this, perhaps the Compulsion hasn’t taken effect yet. How far have you gone with her?”

  “Not far,” I admitted.

  “How long were you exposed to her?”

  I looked up at the intricate and colorful flower motif decorating the white plaster ceiling above my head.

  “A few hours last night,” I said, slowly.

  “Let me get a pad and pen.”

  He ducked down, and my mind instantly drifted back to Alexa. I remembered sitting in my car waiting for Lance and Abe to return. All I could think about was the fact that I wasn’t even good enough to be invited up to a girl’s room anymore. Alexa had just walked away from me, again.

  Was she in love with someone? I wondered. Was that why she had been so evasive all night? True love was the only reason a person would say “no” to an incubus. But that was so rare, and Alexa was too young, too—I didn’t know the right word—untouched, untroubled, undisciplined.

  True love came unlike the way it did in fairy tales, after a long time, years. It was a well-molded sword, tested and pounded, shaped and honed in the fires of passion and then plunged deep into the cool maw of reality until the flame is all but gone. It was the thing that survived desire. It was what lived on after lust. Honed and sharpened, true and unyielding, it is a thing of legend rare as Arthur’s sword. I’d heard of it but never witnessed it. Nor did I want to admit the possibility. It rankled too much. She was mine.

  I did start to wonder if something was wrong with me though. Was I losing it? Could you lose it after eight-hundred years? Charisma, charm, mojo, thrall all gone? No. No, that was ridiculous, I told myself. Or was it? I got out of my car, saw a young woman hurriedly walking down the street.

  “Good evening,” I said, smiling and turning on the charm.

  She stopped. Her jaw dropped.

  “Oh, my God!” she cried, panting.

  “Come to me,” I said.

  She flung her arms and legs around me. That was about right. She kissed me, writhed against me desperately. Her reactions were normal. I was fine.

  Then I noticed someone flying into a window of the dorm. I had to let the woman go, make her forget me. I dashed for the alley, tore off my shirt, so I could sprout my wings and give chase.

  “Ahem!” Chandraswami said, reappearing.

  “Yes?” I blinked.

  “I asked about five minutes ago if you had kissed her?”

  “Oh. Uhh. Yes.”

  “Open mouth? Closed?”

  “French.”

  “Hmm,” he said and wrote.

  I hated when doctors said, “Hmm.” What was wrong with kissing her? It was like tasting a star. It had lit me on fire and burned me to ash in the same second.

  Any other male could drown in the waves of her hair like a sailor called to his death by a siren. Any other man could be stunned to awe by the streak of her falling hair, but only I could truly appreciate the purity, the beauty, the singularity of her existence in an infinite amount of human lives.

  She would never look the way she did to anyone else’s eyes, as alluring and beautiful. She would never smell that way for anyone but me. Her breath would never be so sweet to anyone else’s senses. Each wave of her hair was a chain that was binding me to her forever, pulling me toward her, twisting me, making me want her even more. No mere mortal could admire her or desire her as much as I did.

  “Ahem!”

  “Yes?”

  He pursed his lips. “I asked if you touched her.”

  “A little.”

  “How little?”

  “Well,” I hesitated because gentlemen never tell. Still, he was a doctor, and he had never seen her and never would while I had breath, so I confessed, “Not as much as I wanted to.”

  My mind went adrift again. God’s bones, she had smelled good, like dried flowers, like a field of autumn goldenrods and asters, like heaven. My blood had turned to steam in my veins. I wanted her. I wanted her more than I wanted my honor, my self-respect, my city, my life . . .

  “Hello?”

  “Sorry.”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head, “I am sorry. There is nothing that I can do for you. You have barely touched her, but it is obvious that you are irrevocably drawn to her already. You’ll have to go through with it.” He put down his pad.

  “What if I don’t?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

  “She will die,” he shrugged. “She needs you to complete her transformation. You are her Protector. It is karma that brings you together. I suggest you finish this business of yours as quickly as possible. It is for the best. Now go,” he said and left.

  I slammed his door and walked to my car. I got in the driver’s seat.

  “Well?” Lance asked as I pressed the starter. I stopped and stared ahead.

  I should have let Lance or Abe have her, but I didn’t. I couldn't. I had been too selfish, and now I was her Protector. I was bound to her. I could not get free. Whatever power she had over me was unbreakable. I had to face that. I had to go through with it, come what may. This was a disaster, but it could also be an opportunity. I could make a difference with her. I could do things right. I wouldn’t make the same mistakes that were made with me. I could help her.

  “Let’s get this shit over with, shall we?” I said.

  “So, what’s your plan?” Lance asked.

  Plan? I thought about it.

  “I’m going to date her,” I said incredulously.

  “Cool,” he smiled then put a hand on my shoulder. “I have some words of wisdom. El told me the truth, as you know, but she says it doesn’t always work. She knew another dude who was helping a young Innocent through his changes. He told him what was happening to him, and he ran from him, fast and far. He ended up being eaten. This other girl hid from her protector so well, he couldn’t find her. In less than a month, she was dead, burned up, or burned out. So, it’s up to you. You can be up front or make it easy on yourself and say nothing until she shows tooth, claw or wing.”

  I took a deep breath. It was truly bitter to get advice from a man who was less than a hundred years old. Still, Lance brought up some interesting points. I had about a month to seduce Alexa, which was more than enough time. But to lie or not to lie, that was the question. I had been lied to and knew that pain, and the idea of Alexa running from me made the beast in me rage. After a few minutes, I decided I owed her the truth no matter what. I took my phone from my coat pocket and dialed Alexa’s number. A pizzeria answered. I almost crushed the phone in my hand. So, this was how she wanted it? Fine. I had Lance call Reese.

  My Chemistry text was putting me to sleep in the middle of the day, so I took a break to look up the meaning of my dreams on the internet. I put the book down on my desk and opened my laptop. I found a cool dream dictionary online. It said dreaming of angels was good, but there was nothing about one running away. Maybe that had to do with my abandonment issues. I searched for devils. The site said that meant I was afraid of losing my virginity. That surprised me. I didn’t know why I should be afraid,
since I had no intention of losing my virginity to Cristien. A book meant some kind of knowledge. From what I could put together, my old studious self (angel) was fighting with my new outgoing self (devil). My old self won with the help of a book, defeating my new self but then got mad and ran away? What the heck did that mean?

  My door slammed open. Reese walked in holding out her cell. It was on speakerphone.

  “Hello, Alexa.” It was Cristien.

  Shock silenced me for a few seconds

  “Hey. How are you?” I tried to fake happy surprise.

  “Somehow I got the wrong number.”

  “Really?” I squeaked.

  “Funny how that can happen sometimes with technology. I hope you slept well.” He sounded cold and angry.

  “I did. Thanks. And you?”

  “Oh, just dandy. Do you have any plans tonight?” he asked.

  “Well . . .” I began, but Reese cut me off.

  “She doesn’t,” she told him.

  “Good. Because I am taking you out. Six sharp. ‘Day!” he told me and hung up.

  “We’ll come to dress you around five,” Reese said, and walked out.

  What the hell!? I was supposed to study today. I had three tests and a paper due, not to mention work-study crap to finish. I was not going. I didn’t care what they wanted. I started reading my Chem book.

  I was having a hard enough time concentrating without them bothering me. I kept thinking about Cristien, and when I thought about him all I could think about was his lips and his body against mine. So, I hadn’t gotten any work done. Now Reese had to get in this too?

  Uck! I’d never be able to concentrate on Chem now. I hated pre-Med, but my mom insisted I take it. She said the humanities were dead. I would never get a decent job after I graduated if I majored in English like I wanted. So, we had compromised: as long as I maintained a 4.0 average, I could take extra English classes each semester.

  I had opened the pages to the assigned reading of the week, “Cupid and Psyche” by Apuleius. This was our Valentine’s Day assignment. Our professor was so fun.

  I started reading. Psyche was a poor girl who was really hot. The goddess Aphrodite got miffed that people were more interested a mortal than her, so she sent her son, Cupid, the god of love, to make the girl fall for some odious shmuck. But Cupid fell in love with Psyche. He whisked her away to a beautiful castle and kept her there but never revealed to her that he was her lover. Her evil, jealous sisters said he was a monster or a snake. So, Psyche peeked at him while he slept one night. He was so gorgeous, she forgot she was even holding a lamp. Hot oil fell on Cupid, waking him, and he flew away to his mother. Man, that must have been a lot of oil or else he was a big crybaby.

  Poor Psyche searched for Cupid. Finally, she went to his mother, who set her nasty, life-threatening tasks, including going down to the Queen of Death. Psyche succeeded in all of them, until she returned from Persephone’s kingdom with a gift for Aphrodite. Curious again, Psyche opened the gift. Inside was the sleep of death. Cupid, now healed and pining for his wife, found her dead. He brought her back to life with a kiss. They got married, and she became a goddess.

  “Psyche’s intrepidness was rewarded in the end,” said the notes. “Psyche becomes mistresses of the upper and lower worlds. Immortal. Psyche is the heroine. Aphrodite is a villain in this piece, but she is also the guardian that tests Psyche and makes sure she is worthy of the knowledge and gifts she is about to receive. This story may also be the forerunner of Beauty and the Beast and its themes run throughout many stories with a beastly behaving hero like Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, even Pride and Prejudice.”

  Very interesting. I started to research Psyche on the web with an eye toward my final paper when my phone rang. I picked it up cautiously. It might be Cristien. Who knew what Reese and Mikayla had told him?

  “Aliyah,” my mother began. “I wanted to remind you . . .”

  I sighed and half listened. I didn’t need platitudes and warnings right now.

  “Are you listening? This is important,” she said after a while. I guess I was being too quiet.

  “Yes,” I said. Then something in me rebelled, “Why can’t I date?” I had never asked before. I had just done as told.

  “You know why.”

  “Other girls date and do school work.”

  “You are not other girls, and I am still paying for your food and clothing. Money is too precious to waste on someone who is not going to give one hundred percent to their education.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  “Wait. What brought this up?”

  “Some friends are going out,” I said, rolling onto my back and staring up at my blue wall covered with posters of a knight and his lady and a Pegasus.

  “I know it’s hard waiting, but when the time is right, you’ll find the right person. And he’ll be even more interested in you when you have a college degree and a good job. Serious men won’t want you otherwise.”

  “Who are they marrying? Me or my earning potential? I mean, what about love?”

  “I know you’re a romantic, dreamy soul, but so was I, and look where it got me. I never finished college. I just want to spare you pain. Aliyah, love doesn’t put food on the table. It doesn’t put a roof over your head or buy clothes or anything you need . . .”

  I blanked out, but she went on and on about all the things love could not do. I turned over on my stomach and my gaze landed on my Literature of Love textbook. I reached over to where I had tossed it. It had opened to one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.

  Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.

  Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,

  Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

  It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

  Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

  Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

  If this be error and upon me proved,

  I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

  “Are you listening to me, Aliyah? I don’t want you ruining your life,” she yelled.

  I pulled the phone from my ear. “I know. I’m off to the library. Good night.”

  “Good night, Aliyah.”

  I hung up the phone and stared at the poem. Whom should I believe, Shakespeare or my mother? A short time later, Reese and Mikayla rushed into my room. They were happy as larks when they saw me.

  They regaled me with stories about how great their nights were with Lance and Abe.

  “He’s this big,” Reese screamed, putting her hands at least two feet apart. “I never had so many orgasms in my life!”

  “Abe had some pieces of silk with him. He tied me up and . . .” Mikayla smiled. “Let’s just say, I was bound to have a good time after that.”

  Then she started coughing.

  “Are you okay?” Reese and I asked together. When she couldn’t answer, Reese leaned over and slapped her on the back a few times. When Mikayla stopped, she looked pale and drawn even with her make up on. She had to clear her throat a few times just to be able to speak.

  “Fine. I must have caught what’s going around,” she tried to laugh.

  “You sure you want to go out tonight?” I asked her.

  “Hell yes,” she said. “So, tell us what happened with you and Cristien?”

  Mikayla and Reese looked hopefully at me.

  “Well…” I looked down. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” Mikayla cried.

  “Nope.” I confessed.

  “Wow. I thought he was better than that,” Reese said. “Maybe tonight is your night.”

  She’d lose that bet. Still, I was curious about something. “Hey, can I ask you guys a question?”

  “Sure. Shoot,” Mikayla said, crossing her legs.
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  “How is the first time?”

  They looked at each other, laughed and said at the same time, “Meh.”

  “Really?” I cried.

  “But it gets better,” Mikayla smiled.

  “How ‘meh’ are we talking?” I asked.

  “Meh. Meh,” Reese said, laughing out loud. “My first time was with this boy in high school. He did not know what he was doing. I can tell you that.”

  “Same here,” Mikayla said, rolling her eyes. “I try not to remember it.”

  “Does it hurt?” I asked. “I heard it hurt.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Mikayla told me. “Just get dressed. It’ll be fine.”

  Of course it would because I was not sleeping with Cristien. I took the clothes they had brought me and walked to the bathroom and got dressed.

  Mikayla and Reese got up, looking eager to go the second I came out. All I could muster was a sense of dread. I didn’t even know where we were going. I had to ask.

  “Dancing,” Reese sang as she moved toward the door.

  After we put on our coats, the three of us headed to the elevator. The beige paint of the corridor looked worse than usual against the blue and green carpet of the hall. I was studying every detail like a prisoner walking death row. When the elevator doors opened, I remembered that I had left my purse behind. I told them to go ahead.

  They looked worried but set me free. I ran back to my room and picked up my black bag. Then I stood in the middle of the floor, staring at my walls with my mind drawing a blank. Even with my extra time, I couldn’t figure out if I wanted to go on this date or not. I did know Mikayla and Reese would come back for me if I tarried too long. So, I dragged myself to the elevator but found that I was too tense to wait. I walked down to the first floor.

  The door of the stairs was directly across from the lobby. I peered through its little window. Lance, Cristien, Reese, Mikayla, and Abe were all standing near the exit waiting to leave. Cristien was alone. The sight of him made my stomach hurt. He was dressed immaculately in a black suit and long coat. He looked so handsome. He was taller than I thought, only a few inches shorter than Lance. His green eyes were locked on the elevator. It opened while I remained hidden. Other girls walked out. He looked disappointed. He combed his fingers through his dark hair. He leaned in to speak to Mikayla. She turned flattered eyes toward him. He pointed back at the elevators. I knew I should come out before he forced her to go back up to my floor to look for me, but I couldn’t make my hand move to the knob.