Incubus

by Celia Aaron

  “Each of you will return to Roth’s encampment and carry out a decimation on the legions therein. Because of your leader’s actions, and the actions of a few legionnaires, Rome demands the blood of its soldiers in payment for disobedience.”

  The men stood stunned, as if they could not comprehend what the commander had ordered them to do.

  “That’s over two thousand of our soldiers,” Prator said, disbelieving.

  “Be glad I did not demand more.” The commander glowered, his gaze lingering on me. “I expect you to oversee this discipline, Lisalius. See that it is carried out for the glory of Rome.”

  “Take my life instead.” My voice rang out steady and true, despite the turmoil that racked me.

  “That’s not how it works. Officers are exempt from decimation. You used to know the rules of the Empire, Lisalius, though it seems your knowledge has been faltering as of late.”

  “Yes, Commander, but surely the life of an officer is worth more than two thousand legionnaires, is it not? And would Rome approve of losing two thousand men at the wild edge of the Empire where the attacks come almost daily?” The commander was a hard man, but I hoped he would see reason in this, even if it meant my end. Better me than thousands of those who trusted me to lead them.

  The commander thought for a moment, his birdlike gaze darting from man to man. I had gambled on his vanity, hoping he would believe that killing one officer truly was a greater price than two thousand nameless, faceless fighters. The commander’s gaze lifted past the men to the nearest tree line. Out there, waiting, was an uncounted multitude of enemies—those who would stop Rome’s expansion at any cost. Any reduction in men would be an opening for that multitude to pour into this camp and drown the Roman Army in a river of blood.

  These were the longest moments of my life. Here, at the end, where the seconds ticked away into eternity.

  “The deal is struck. Roth will pay for his legion’s disobedience. With his life, Rome will be satisfied.”

  The commander’s voice raised the hackles on the back of my neck. I was relieved yet terrified. It was as if I were falling from a great height, plummeting to the ground, where I would remain in its stony embrace forever. I had looked death in the face many times as a soldier, seen a spear or a knife that should have ended me. But only now, here, at this moment, did I truly see that Death anxiously waited to claim me for its own.

  My brothers-in-arms looked stricken. I held up my hand to calm them. “Do not fear for me. I go to the gods willingly. Each of you has my thanks. Tell the rest of the men I died at peace.”

  I wished I felt the strength of my words, but my mind was racing with thoughts of escape, or even striking down the commander. All ridiculous imaginings. There was no way out. I was greatly outnumbered. A crowd had gathered when word of the decimation had spread through the surrounding camps. Even a fighter of my skill wouldn’t make it out alive. And my men would surely fight along with me, which meant I’d be signing their death warrants.

  My only choice was to accept my fate.

  I pulled loose the leather straps that held my breastplate in place and handed the battle-scarred metal to Prator. “She has protected me well. May she do the same for you.”

  Prator gripped my forearm tightly, giving me the strength to face my sentence. The remaining men stood with their dagger hands over their hearts.

  The commander showed no emotion, even though he was about to take the life of an officer who’d given his life to Rome. Drawing his gladius, he motioned for me to stand with my back to a low wall.

  I was relieved my men wouldn’t be required to strike me down, though I sensed my men itching to do something. I gave them a stern look of warning and a slight shake of my head. Any move to save me would only ensure their deaths. Even at this eleventh hour, they honored my command and held their ground.

  I took my place and with my head held high, looked the commander in the eye. “I have no regrets for what I did. I go to my death with a clear conscience.”

  Without a word, the commander reared back and ran me through, twisting the blade as it pierced my heart. I kept my teeth clenched together, refusing to cry out even as the blade crushed my ribs. A ruby flow ran out onto the stone below. I sank to my knees, unable to catch my breath as blood gurgled from my mouth. My eyes focused on the lustrous moon high overhead before my vision failed and all was darkness.

  21

  Lilah

  “You died?” I asked, aghast. “But you didn’t really, right? You were immortal, so you came back.”

  I didn’t know if I said the last part to comfort him or assuage the pang of pain I felt for the agony he must have suffered at the end of his Commander’s blade.

  “I wasn’t born an immortal.” His hand strayed across the face of the blood-darkened stone.

  I’d assumed he was born an incubus. “I thought only vampires could make more of their kind?”

  During my time in Artemis’s service, I’d learned much about immortals. They were born, not made, except for the vampires. Vampires could impart life through death, but it was a harrowing process that usually failed during its inception. The only other way was how I had been made immortal—the death of a Halfling, which allowed me to be chosen as a warrior by one of the gods.

  He turned to face me, a strained look marring his handsome features. “The incubus wasn’t made in me. It existed long before taking over my body. As I lay dying on that dusty road, the creature watched and waited, somehow sensing a body would presently be available for its needs. It was in its incorporeal form, straight out of the depths of the Underworld, where it had resided for eons. Hades saw fit to release it upon the world on the night of my death. Seeing its chance, it took hold of my failing body, strengthening it with unbelievable power, though the transition took its toll. Even with the strength it imbued, I would have died, but for the Parisii who found me before the night was out and took me in. Saving their people from slaughter eventually saved my life. But it was no longer my own.”

  “How so?” Though I’d heard tales of other incubi, Roth was the first I’d ever met. He might be the only one of his kind—a mortal made immortal through the soul of a demon. Gods.

  If Roth’s expression was pained before, it was anguished now. “It…used me. You well know the needs of an incubus. At first, I enjoyed every debauchery, every woman. I was even proud of myself. I felt powerful, reveling in the strength of the incubus and taking its gifts. It was like a drug. But after hundreds of years, I realized nothing the incubus gave was a gift. I am cursed. You saw me with Corinne. My control over it is tenuous at best.” His eyes took on a faraway look. “One time, I made the mistake of trying to starve it out of me. Denying its needs for nights on end…”

  His words came haltingly before stopping altogether. I’d never seen past his strong facade to the true man within, and I was shocked at my own reaction, wanting to soothe him and gentle the beast inside.

  I knew what it felt like to be used, all too well.

  “Go on.” My voice barely rose to a whisper.

  His gaze roamed the walls of the tunnel as if he felt trapped, so I took a step back to give him some breathing room. The pain he felt made him like a caged animal, raw and unbending as he searched for an escape.

  He seemed to snap back to himself at my retreat, a slight, chilly burst flooding the close quarters. “I can’t live without it. Not anymore. Were the incubus to die, I would as well. We are one.” His tone changed to all business. “We’d best be going.” He turned and forged back down the tunnel, his long strides setting a clipped pace.

  We retraced our steps to the Étienne Noir in silence.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d learned. Roth had once been a fierce warrior for Rome, but still held on to his humanity enough to save sick and wounded Parisii from slaughter.

  All I’d known of him was a cocky, sex-crazed incubus—nothing more. I’d felt an undeniable attraction to him ever since I met him, but now I feared
I was even more curious about his inner workings. He didn’t relish the women he was with as I’d assumed. He’d been forced into it, and I could only wonder about what had happened when he’d tried to deny it.

  I took a deep breath as we approached the door leading back into the club. Roth wrenched it open with a violent movement and stalked inside. He took a different route from the one we’d used earlier, thankfully avoiding Voltaire’s den. The cost of admission had already been paid. Leaving was free.

  I followed Roth through the club-goers who were still enjoying their many debaucheries. We exited into the street. Free from the closeness of the catacombs and the club, the open air left me feeling naked. The eyes of a thousand stars watched my folly here on earth.

  Roth set off toward his bike, not seeming to care if I was with him or not. I hastened to keep up.

  “Can you slow down a second?”

  He slowed his pace, not looking around at me.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Was he still feeling the effects of reliving his nightmare? Of his death?

  When he didn’t answer, I figured I’d try a different tack to get him talking, something to lighten the mood. “Still thinking about our kiss, are you?”

  “Of course I am.” He whirled on me, his dark hair tousling enticingly as his eyes lit with that inner heat. “It was the first I’ve had in over two centuries.”

  22

  Roth

  She was maddening. Utterly maddening. Slapping me over and over again for daring to kiss her and now reminding me of the powerful bliss it had given me.

  Retreating from me in disgust during my revelations to her in the catacombs, yet now inviting my interest with her succulent pout. Her face turned up to mine, her eyes shifting to a gorgeous deep blue in the moonlight. I couldn’t stop my gaze from roaming her curves that were perfectly visible beneath a snug tee and jeans. The incubus flickered within me, telling me to taste her again. Odd, for the incubus never had seemed this interested in a female before. It wanted them for their bodies, and once it had its fill, it moved on to the next. But I sensed the incubus wanted more from Lilah. Much more.

  I couldn’t help myself. I pushed her up against the wall next to the bike. She didn’t fight me, and instead let out an erotic sigh.

  “You will drive me mad, female.” I loved the feel of her soft, warm body pressed against my hard, cold one. The very scent of her was an aphrodisiac.

  I eyed her lips, desperate to have my mouth on hers again, claiming her.

  “Why have you never kissed anyone in the last two hundred years?” She stared at my lips, heat rippling from her. She wants me too.

  “It’s a trick I learned from my sisters-in-arms, as it were.”

  She looked at me quizzically.

  “Prostitutes.” I enjoyed the surprised look on her angelic face. “They never kiss their customers. They see it as too intimate. Like sharing a piece of their souls. To put it indelicately, I share too much of myself with too many women already. Some things are mine and mine alone.”

  “But you shared it with me. Why?”

  I remembered her reaction in the catacombs. Her instinct to get away from me. Just the thought of her retreating cut me to the quick. I changed, adopting the slick demeanor of the incubus. “Because it was all an act, carissima.” A lie. I’d wanted to kiss her since I’d first spied her. Everything about her appealed to me in a way no female ever had, not even back when I still relished the chase. Before I realized I was cursed.

  She flinched at my words, but I kept my visage cold. It would be better for her to get away from me. The incubus would never stop, could never stop, no matter how much I wanted to. The other women I’d been with were mere shadows compared to Lilah. But her instincts were dead-on; she needed to get away from me before she got hurt. I couldn’t live with myself if any harm came to her, especially if it came from me.

  She pushed me away and walked toward the motorcycle. “Just take me back.”

  The coldness in her voice pierced my heart as surely as the Commander’s blade.

  23

  Lilah

  One hundred years ago

  Forgotten Forest of Olympus

  As Elena and I made our way back to the encampment, I kept trying to swallow the lump that rose in my throat. The thought of Farrow’s betrayal burned me like the fires of Hades, but I would remember the feeling and use it to my advantage. No male had tempted me before and none ever would again. I would swear it upon my oath to Artemis.

  We returned just in time for the archery competition, Lynxia shooting us a look of pure poison as we entered the arena.

  Artemis, wearing a crown of spring flowers, stood atop her dais and presided over her warriors. She paid no attention to the two latecomers as she watched the competition.

  The arena was lined with a multitude of warrior maidens, many of them dressed for the other competitions and some already wearing black eyes and bruises from the hand-to-hand battle that started every sparring session. They watched eagerly as the archers took their places down the row of targets. I spied Iphi in the crowd, no doubt taking bets on the winner.

  The only archer with a hope of beating me, Lynxia, was standing fifty yards from her target, already taking aim with her ebony bow. The thrill of competition warred with the bitter feelings about Farrow that threatened to engulf me. Steadying my nerves, I stepped up to the open spot on the end of the row and summoned my bow. I took aim downfield at my own target, trying to drown out my thoughts while staring down the shaft of my arrow. Breathing deeply, I let my air out slowly and sighted the bullseye.

  When the call was given, I let my arrow fly, straight and true to the center. As my bow sang with the release, I chanced a glance at Lynxia, whose chestnut hair was pulled back as tightly as her focus. Lynxia’s arrow would likely have hit the bullseye, but Lynxia had tilted her head slightly, probably to check my shot. Because of her oversight, Lynxia’s arrow erred to the right, barely missing the blackened center of the straw target.

  The other archers had much the same luck, none of them managing a perfect shot like mine. Three more arrows yielded no better results. I was by far the best archer, even with Farrow’s betrayal hanging on me like a weight.

  I had to admit I was greatly relieved—talk among the sisters was once a warrior maiden gave herself to a male, her powers would be stripped from her. But I still felt Artemis’s strength, and my triumph in the archery competition was proof. Once all the archers had emptied their quivers, Artemis’s voice boomed throughout the granite arena.

  “Lilah the Archer has won again.” Many of the spectating maidens cheered while Lynxia gave me a choice finger gesture.

  “Come here, my champion. My most beloved warrior maiden.”

  I caught the inflection on the last word, as did the rest of the women in the sanctum, which had fallen eerily silent at Artemis’s command.

  “My Goddess.” I barely kept the quaver from my voice as I knelt before Artemis’s dais. The goddess was dressed in a vest of deep green that came down to the tops of her thighs and was cinched in at her narrow waist. Her hair flowed like amber down her back, and her eyes were a warm gold—said to be the same shade as Zeus’s. My unease deepened as one of the goddess’s usually friendly guard dogs, akin to a Great Dane, let out a quiet growl.

  Artemis put one hand on the dog’s head. “Barnabus tells me you have broken your vow. Is that true, maiden?” Again with the inflection, which was no longer a hint but an accusation.

  “I-I remain loyal to you, ever one of your warriors.”

  “Yet you’ve been with a male.”

  The crowd erupted with chatter until the goddess’s voice cut through the air. “Silence!” She gripped Barnabus’s ear a little too tightly, and he yelped before she began smoothing his hair again. “You dared couple with a male in my forest and thought I wouldn’t know?”

  “It was a mistake. One I will never repeat. No male shall ever use me again.”

  “Is that
right?” Artemis asked, a thoughtful look playing across her features.

  “Yes, my Goddess. I am pledged only to you.”

  Artemis rose to her full height, speaking to the crowd more than me. “My beloved daughter, the warrior maiden who has pleased me without end and who has taken my knowledge to become the fiercest one of you, has betrayed me. Who here demands judgment on her for these misdeeds?”

  My stomach churned, though I kept my position of supplication at Artemis’s feet. I dreaded the censure of my sisters, perhaps even more than that of the goddess. But no one uttered a word, not even Lynxia. Rivalry didn’t erase the bonds of sisterhood, not among Artemis’s warriors.

  After several beats of silence, the goddess continued, “No one will answer my call for retribution?” Her hand shot out and pointed at the maidens who had massed before her throne. “No one? Then I will smite Lilah to make an example of her. No male may touch my warriors. You are mine and mine alone.”

  She said it matter-of-factly, as if it were nothing to kill one of her own guardians. I well knew the gods were fickle, but it cut me to the quick when Artemis appeared to feel no sting of pain at decreeing my death. The threat was not an idle one. The goddess had immeasurable power, emanating from Olympus and into her as if she were a lightning rod.

  Elena’s voice rang out from the crowd, though it was tinged with grief. “Banish her.”

  I searched for her from the corner of my eye, but couldn’t see for the maidens crowding around the dais.

  How could my friend even suggest such a thing? Death would have been a better choice. “No, my Goddess, I—”