The Demon Lover

by Juliet Dark

  “He might still be there,” I explained to Brock and Dory when they found me creeping along the wall. “In the shadows.”

  Brock waved his hand through the shadows to show me there was nothing there. Dory turned on the overhead light. The shadows scurried into the corners. I screamed at her to turn it off. I screamed again when Brock tried to carry me to my room upstairs.

  “Not there,” I begged. “I can’t sleep in that bed.”

  They put me in the back bedroom on the first floor—Phoenix’s old room and Matilda’s before her. Liam had never gone in there, not even the one time I’d asked him to fetch an extra blanket from Phoenix’s bed. Now I knew why. The room was filled with the smell of iron from the iron bed frame. I felt the cold of it on my wrist where Liam’s fingerprints were seared into my skin—five ice splinters lodged in my flesh. Brock made me a salve for the wound while Dory got me undressed and into bed. “Don’t worry, dear,” she said over and over, “you’ll be all right now.” But after Brock had bandaged my arm and spooned some bitter-tasting tea down my throat I heard them whispering in the kitchen.

  “I’m afraid the shadow’s got in under her skin,” Brock said.

  “Will it spread?” Dory asked.

  “There’s no telling,” he answered. “We’ll have to watch her.”

  So that was the creeping I felt under my skin, like a drug moving through my veins. I drifted off then into the darkness beneath my eyelids. I could feel it rushing up to drown me, pull me under. When I was little my parents had taken me to a beach out in Montauk and I’d been pulled under by a wave, tossed and tumbled like a sock in a washing machine until I couldn’t tell which way was up. The darkness I went into now was like that, just deeper than the ocean. Was Liam somewhere in this darkness, waiting to drown me for sending him away? I swam deeper and deeper, passing the phosphorescent faces of drowned swimmers—half-eaten faces with crabs crawling out of eye sockets and eels wriggling where their tongues used to be—but no Liam.

  Then I would surface, into Phoenix’s room, the shadows lapping around the great iron bed like a retreating tide. Dory would be there, trying to get me to drink some tea or broth. Liz Book came and told me that everyone who had been sick was getting better now—Flonia and Nicky and all the other students from Liam’s class, proof that it had been Liam making them sick. The only one who was still recuperating was Mara.

  “He must have drained her when she came here to work on the LaMotte papers,” she said. “Poor girl. After all she’s been through. I feel so responsible—to be taken in by a love talker at my age!” She patted my hand and bent down to whisper in my ear, even though we were alone in the room—maybe she sensed the shadows listening—“He was a very charming one, my dear. No one could blame you for falling for him. No one blames you at all.”

  But she was wrong. The shadows blamed me. I could hear them whispering, their voices growing louder as the day lengthened their tongues, their briny breath lapping at my ears, rough as cats’ tongues, flaying my skin from the bone. You brought him to life, they whispered. You are a thing of darkness. That’s where you belong. With us.

  “No,” I whimpered back, but I was already sinking back under the black water beneath my eyelids, where the rotting corpses of the drowned waited to embrace me. We’re your demon lovers now, they whispered. They latched themselves to me with their suckered tentacles and hungry mouths, and I gave myself to them, glad to feel the pull and suck of their hunger.

  Once, though, instead of slipping into the dark I found myself standing in a green meadow, the dew on each blade of grass new-touched by the rising sun. I was wearing a long dress, the hem of which was soaked by the dew. Ahead of me, where the sun had not yet penetrated the mist, was a young man, his slim legs rising out of the mist like reeds rising out of water, his loose white shirt a swan’s wing cleaving the fog. He turned to me, his faced blurred in the mist, but then the rising sun reached him and drew Liam’s face on the white mist. He held his arms open for me and I ran into his embrace. For a moment I felt the strength of his arms encircling me and the heat of his lips on mine, but then he was gone, vanished into the mist. I woke up, grasping the knotted bed sheets and weeping. I got up out of bed for the first time and ran out into the backyard, my bare feet sinking into the melting slush. The yard and woods beyond were filled with a white mist rising off the melting snow, as if the earth was exhaling a long-held breath into the cold. Liam was out there in the woods, I knew now, not in the darkness, but wandering somewhere in the Borderlands. I would have run into the woods, but Brock caught me and dragged me back. I wasn’t strong enough to put up much of a fight. I’d have to wait until I got my strength back.

  I began drinking the tea and broth that Dory brought and nibbling on the bread and scones that Diana baked for me. I could see that the iron bed made Diana uncomfortable, so I asked to sit in the kitchen with her … and then the living room. Once I was able to sit in the living room I had more visitors. Soheila came on the first warm day of the year, which happened to be the first day of spring, with almond and rose-water cookies for the Persian New Year. I was glad she had come because I had some questions for her.

  “Liam told me that if I loved him he would become human,” I told her after Dory left us alone. “Was that true?”

  Soheila exhaled a long breath—a sigh that sounded a little like an owl’s song and reminded me that she had once been made of wind. “Yes, that part was true. That is how I became as I am now—not quite human, but not quite all succubus. But what he didn’t tell you is that loving him would drain the life out of you the way it drained Angus. I didn’t know that I was killing him until it was too late, but Li—the incubus knows what happened to Angus. He was there. He finished him off. So if he really loved you he wouldn’t ask you to sacrifice your life for his.”

  I thought about that for a moment while Soheila sipped her tea and nibbled on a cookie. I looked out the window where the icicles were melting from the eaves with a steady drip that sounded like rain.

  “But he took the key from me and turned the lock on the bracelet on his own hand. He turned it right. If he had turned it left he would have freed himself.” Or I would have been sucked into the shadows with him, I thought, but didn’t say. I was too embarrassed to admit that I’d been ready to destroy myself. “Why did he do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Soheila said, brushing crumbs from her fingertips. She looked uncomfortable suddenly. “Perhaps he made a mistake. Most of my kind have a poor sense of direction. Without GPS my cousins couldn’t find their way to their hairdressers or tennis lessons.”

  I frowned. “But you’re descended from wind spirits …”

  “Do you think the wind knows which way it’s blowing?” she demanded, her eyes flashing. “Or cares what tree it blows down? Or what destruction it leaves in its wake? Have you forgotten that the incubus raised a storm that knocked Paul’s plane out of the sky?”

  I looked away guiltily. I had forgotten that.

  “Trust me, Callie, you’re lucky to have escaped from him whole. Look at what he did to those students. Could you love a creature who fed off children?”

  “Who’s feeding off children?” The voice came from the foyer. Frank Delmarco, followed by a flustered Dory Browne, came into the room, tugged a Yankees cap off his head, and sprawled out on the couch. “I’m pretty sure that’s been outlawed since Swift’s time.”

  “Frank.” Soheila smiled nervously. “I thought you’d gone to the city for the break.”

  “I had, but then I heard about an outbreak of child cannibalism and came hurrying back. What’s wrong, McFay? You look like someone sucker-punched you in the gut.”

  “Poor Callie,” Dory answered in a loud stage whisper for me. “Liam Doyle was deported to Ireland for tax evasion.”

  “Really?” Frank asked, cocking his head at me. “I wouldn’t have pegged him for financial fraud, but then many a man has been led down the road of financial ruin by
his love of foppish clothes.”

  “Frank, that’s unkind!” Soheila scolded. “It’s been a shock to Callie.”

  “I’m right here,” I pointed out, tired of people talking about me as though I were an invalid. Maybe I was getting a little tired of being an invalid.

  “Yes, you are,” Frank said, beaming at me. “I’m glad to see that you didn’t abscond to Ireland, too. You’re better off without him, McFay. You’re worth a dozen Liam Doyles.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly right,” Soheila said, looking back and forth between Frank and me with curiousity on her face. Getting to her feet, she said, “I can see you’re in good hands, Callie, and I have other houses to visit. It’s a Persian tradition to visit all one’s good friends on the New Year.” She smiled a bit too brightly at Frank, as if she were posing for a picture, and then asked Dory if she’d run over to Diana’s for a few minutes with her. Frank watched her go with a puzzled expression on his face.

  “I can never quite figure her out. She runs hot and cold like a broken faucet. What is she?”

  “You don’t know?” I asked, surprised that Frank’s intelligence had failed to discern Soheila’s nature.

  “No. My bosses think she’s an ancient divinity of sorts, but her exact designation has been carefully veiled. It’s one reason I’m investigating Fairwick. Supernatural beings should be clearly labeled so you know what you’re dealing with. Look at what happens when you’re not. What did Liam turn out to be? A vampire? A werewolf? He always looked a little shaggy to me.”

  “An incubus,” I answered, embarrassed, but at least I could distract him from asking more questions about Soheila. Poor Soheila—clearly she thought Frank was interested in me and had graciously stepped aside since she couldn’t have him. I’d have to let her know that there was nothing between us—but I didn’t have to let him know that she was a succubus.

  “Ooooh, an incubus. That’s rough. No wonder you looked so tired all the time. And his students … ouch! That must smart, knowing he was going after them.”

  “If you came here to gloat …”

  “No, actually I came here because I came across something in researching Hiram Scudder that I thought you would find interesting. That is, if you’re still interested in averting Nicky’s curse.”

  “Of course I am!” I replied angrily, although in truth I’d spared very little thought for Nicky Ballard since the day I’d gone to her house.

  “After Hiram Scudder’s wife killed herself he went out west. He changed his name several times and moved around a lot, which is why it’s hard to track him down. But I think I found him in Colorado under the name Stoddard. I’m trying to track him down after he left Colorado.”

  “Oh, that’s smart. I’m sure you’ll find something. If anyone can find a way to stop the curse, you can.”

  “Does that mean that you’re giving up?” he asked, leaning forward and squinting at me. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  I shrugged. “It’s just that I may have to go away for a while. Maybe go somewhere warm. I may not be cut out for … this climate.” My voice wobbled and I realized to my embarrassment that I was dangerously close to tears.

  “Yeah, you do look like you’re freezing to death,” he said.

  I looked down and saw that I’d pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my hands to hide the bruises there.

  “Why don’t I make us some hot tea?” he said, getting up. “And we can talk some more about your plans.”

  Before I could object he’d gone into the kitchen. I heard the water running and the refrigerator door opening and guessed that Frank was also giving me some time to compose myself. Which would have been great if the front door hadn’t opened at the same time.

  “Hello? Professor McFay?” Mara’s voice came haltingly from the foyer.

  “In here, Mara,” I called, getting to my feet and hurrying to the front door. I was hoping to head her off at the pass and suggest I was too ill for a visit. She was standing on the front porch, a bouquet of anemic-looking pink carnations cradled in her arms. Instantly I felt guilty for begrudging her visit when she’d gone to the trouble of buying me flowers. Still … if I let her in she might stay for an hour.

  I stepped out onto the porch to greet her. “These are lovely, Mara,” I said, and then, taking a big breath of air, “Why, it’s like spring out here! Let’s sit on the glider for a moment before I go back to bed. I’ve been cooped up inside for days.”

  I gestured to the porch glider, and Mara sat down right in the middle, placing the flowers to her right and leaving me almost no room. Rather than crowd in with her I leaned against the porch railing. “It’s very considerate of you to visit me, Mara, but I heard you were still in the infirmary. Shouldn’t you be resting?” Mara looked, in truth, pretty awful. She was pale but for two blotches of color in her cheeks, which were the same calamine pink as the carnations she’d brought. She sat on the edge of the glider, tensed against its rocking motion as if afraid she might become seasick.

  “I am doing much better,” she said stiffly. “I heard that you were unwell … and that Mr. Doyle had to leave the country suddenly. I thought you must be sad.”

  The idea of being pitied—by Mara Marinca of all people—was almost too much for me. A sharp pain twinged behind my right eye. I raised my hand to massage my temple. “That’s sweet of you, Mara, but really I’m quite all right …”

  But Mara wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fastened on my wrist, where my sleeve had fallen back from the black bruises Liam had left. She was on her feet, inches from me, her hand on my wrist. I shrank away from her touch but the porch railing cut into my back.

  “Did he do this?” she asked, her voice a low hiss, her breath hot and copper-tinged in my face.

  “It’s nothing, Mara; it was an accident.”

  She shook her head, her eyes still glued to my wrist. One by one she placed her fingertips over the marks Liam had left. The pads of her fingers were damp and strangely spongy and clung to my skin like suction cups. “No,” she said, the tip of her tongue appearing between her crooked yellow teeth. “This was no accident. He was trying to pull you into the Borderlands with him. And you …” She looked up. Her eyes had turned a strange sulfurous yellow. They looked oddly familiar. “You were ready to go with him. Such devotion! I can still smell it.” She sniffed, and then to my utter horror and disgust her pink leathery tongue darted out of her mouth an impossible distance and licked my wrist.

  I screamed and tried to push her away, but it was like pushing against foam rubber. My left hand sunk into spongy flesh. She was lifting my hand to her mouth, which was gaping wider and wider, her lips opening like rubbery flaps, revealing a second row of sharp yellow teeth behind the first row. Black feathers were sprouting from her skin. Her tongue was covered with suction cups that latched onto my skin and started to pull.

  “What are you?” I cried, but already I recognized her. The great black crow that had tried to attack me. This was its true face: a feathered monstrosity that sucked the life force out of its victims … just as it had fed on Nicky and Flonia and Liz Book.

  I had to get away from it before it sucked me dry. Already I could feel the life draining out of me. I couldn’t push against it, so instead I braced my feet on the lower porch railing, hoisted my hips up onto the upper railing, and tipped myself backward. I fell six feet onto my back. If the snow hadn’t cushioned my fall I might have broken my spine. As it was the fall knocked the wind out of me. Above me Mara was spreading her arms—wings now, sprouting black feathers—opening her mouth into an angry caw, and preparing to swoop down on me.

  I rolled to the side just before she landed. I scrambled to my feet and pushed off the ground, my fingers grabbing handfuls of slushy snow as I came up … and something else. A stone with a hole in it. The fairy stone that I’d put in the ice ornament back in November had fallen to the ground and now it was in my hand. As the creature wheeled around to attack me I
fleetingly wondered if there was some way to use it against her, but I didn’t have time to figure it out. Nor could I recall a single spell, not even the one for defending against attacks from above. The creature was flapping its wings, getting ready to attack me.

  I turned and ran blindly, my slippered feet sliding in the snow. I could hear the sound of wings behind me—huge wings. The creature she’d transformed into was far larger than the bird I’d seen before. Maybe the size she transformed into was governed by her hunger, in which case she was starving! I had felt the force of her need when she sucked at my wrist. I didn’t think she would stop once she caught me. But how could I escape her? I could see the inn across the street, but if I ran there Mara would catch me in the middle of the open road. I pictured her pecking at me like a vulture stripping meat from a piece of roadkill. To my right stood the line of pine trees at the edge of the woods. If I made it in there she’d follow me, but it wouldn’t be easy to fly through the narrow gaps between the trees. At least it would slow her down.

  My decision made, I flung myself to the right between two trees, scraping my shoulder on the rough bark. I heard the creature’s angry caw behind me and turned just in time to see her crash into the trees, black feathers flying everywhere. She hit the snow and for a brief moment I thought she might be stunned senseless, but then she gathered herself up and, tucking her ragged wings to the side, dove through the trees.

  I ran. Farther into the woods, leaving the path so she wouldn’t be able to spread those huge wings. Geez, its wingspan must be six feet! I was sure the bird hadn’t been this big when she attacked me on Christmas Day … and she’d been bigger then than when she’d attacked me on the Solstice … and way bigger than she’d been when she’d swooped down on the path outside of Bates Hall the first time I’d seen her … but had that been the first time I’d seen her? Those yellow eyes, that plaintive caw—they were the same as the small bird I’d found trapped in the thicket … and released. I had let this monster loose on Fairwick! I had to do away with it.