3.5 Succubus, Interrupted

by Jill Myles

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “You know, we could knock them unconscious and make a break for it.”

  “No,” Remy said sadly. “If I run, he’ll find me and then I won’t even get a hundred years of freedom anymore. He’ll just make me serve him forever. I don’t want that. I have to do this.”

  I bit my lip and said nothing else. What could I say? Remy was determined to go through with this. All I could do was support her and look for a way to extricate her from this problem.

  The women ahead of us opened the door to a large, sunlit room and then bowed their heads, not crossing the threshold. Remy’s steps faltered a little, and I put a hand on her back, comforting her.

  I’d been expecting something austere in the room. More cult-like. You know. Sneakers and purple Kool-Aid and rows of bunk beds. To my surprise, the room we entered was a warm, sunny atrium filled with flowering plants of various shapes and sizes. The ceiling was high overhead, the glass curved so it felt like we were in a dome. Not what I’d expected from the plain exterior of the house. It was humid inside, just enough to cling to the skin. A posh Persian rug was thrown over the tile floor and soft harp music played. As we pushed past the leafy plants, the doors shut behind us.

  Ahead, a man with golden-brown hair and lightly freckled skin relaxed in a throne-like rattan chair covered in white pillows. He looked to be of a slender build—Noah had positively bulged with muscles and even Zane’s leaner form was athletic. This man was spare, almost delicate. He seemed… short, too. One hand was extended outward, his nails being buffed by a woman who crouched by his side, wearing the same braid and white gown that the others had. Another knelt by his feet, giving him a pedicure. Across from his chair, another sat, playing the harp—the source of the music. I heard the plants rustle in the background and realized another woman was nearby, watering.

  Remy sucked in a deep breath, then spoke. “Hey, big daddy, you can call off the search party. I’m home.”

  The man opened his eyes. They were bleached silver, like all Serim that had recently had their needs sated. “Ah, Penitence,” he said in a soft, cultured voice. “You are home after all.”

  “That’s not my name—” Remy began irritably.

  “Silence. It is your name while you are here.”

  To my horror, Remy quieted, and I saw her mouth pinch into an unhappy frown.

  He waved one manicured hand at her. “Come and give me a kiss to show me that you missed me.”

  Remy jerked forward, walking stiffly. She moved toward Isaiah, leaned in, and kissed him on the cheek.

  He chuckled as if amused, then gestured at the floor. “Sit.”

  She sat at his feet like a dog. Her gaze flicked over to me and she gave me a miserable look.

  His gaze moved to me finally, and his mouth curled a little. “I see my Penitence brought a friend.”

  “Her name is Remy,” I said. “And yes, she did.”

  “That is not her name while she is here,” he said coolly. “Here she is silent and obedient. She must earn the privilege of speaking with good behavior.”

  That sounded… horrific. Ugh. So Remy had to grovel and beg at this jackass’s feet just to earn the right to have a conversation? That seemed grossly unfair.

  Isaiah cocked his head and studied me, then smiled. He reached over and stroked Remy’s dark hair as one might a pet. “You have delivered my lovely Penitence home. Thank you. You may go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I sputtered. “I’m here for Remy.”

  “She no longer needs you,” Isaiah said calmly. “Tell her, Penitence.”

  “I no longer need you,” Remy said in a dead tone, her eyes begging me to stay.

  I snorted. “I did not fall off the turnip truck yesterday, Mr. Angel of Eternal Life. I know how you work and how you can affect Remy. She doesn’t want to be here.”

  “Of course she does,” Isaiah said with an indulgent smile. “Tell her that you want to be here, Remy.”

  “I want to be here,” she parroted again.

  “That’s enough,” Isaiah said, patting her cheek. “No more conversation for you today. It is a privilege, not a right.”

  Rage flew through me. “That is such horseshit. She is a human being. You can’t treat her like this.”

  “Correction,” Isaiah said in his light, cultured voice. “She is a succubus. She is my creature. I made her. I control her. And while she exists, she is mine to do with as I please.”

  As I watched, Remy closed her eyes and a tear trickled down her cheek. I clenched my fists, helpless. “Let her go.”

  “Why?”

  “She doesn’t want to be here.”

  “But she made a deal,” Isaiah said, as if puzzled by my anger. “Surely she does not want to break the deal? She cannot have her hundred years of freedom without some sort of recompense, can she?”

  Remy shook her head, slightly.

  “She doesn’t want to be here. She doesn’t want to serve you!” I gestured at the other women. “I bet none of them do!”

  Now he looked puzzled. “They love me. Of course they want to serve me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You are dreaming if you think they all love you and want to serve you.”

  “But we do,” said a soft voice. “We love and wish to serve, always.”

  I stared over at the harpist in surprise. She wasn’t a succubus. Wasn’t a vampire. Not a demon. Certainly not a Serim. That just left… human. She really did want to serve him?

  “Constance,” Isaiah said in a warning tone.

  The harpist blushed prettily and put a hand to her mouth. “My apologies for speaking out of turn, my love. I could not let her say such things without speaking the truth.”

  “It is acceptable,” Isaiah said with a slight nod of his head, then a smug smile at me. “You see? I am loved by all that serve me.”

  “Not by Remy,” I said.

  “She is not my wife,” he said gravely. “She is my burden. And I must keep her in check lest she grow wild and out of control once more.”

  “She likes being out of control! Not everyone wants to live in a little sheltered cult.”

  Isaiah’s smile was like ice. “They do when they are with me.” When I sputtered again, he added, “Shall I put Penitence out of her misery, then? Should I put her down like a feral beast?”

  “I don’t see—”

  “I can,” he said sharply, his petting on Remy’s smooth hair growing more violent. “I am her master. I can command her to take no other lover but me. And then I can withhold my favor from her. She would starve within weeks and cease to be. Would that make you happy? Is that what you wish for me to do?”

  “No, not at all—”

  “Then you will let me care for Penitence in my own way,” he said softly and brushed a strand of dark hair off Remy’s forehead.

  #

  Once Remy was officially under his control again, Isaiah and his brides lost interest in me. They cleaned house. They had prayer. At four in the afternoon, Isaiah disappeared with one bride for an ‘afternoon nap.’ Isaiah and his thirty brides eventually reassembled in the main room and then they had dinner. I was not invited to any of this. Actually, they seemed determined to ignore me without throwing me out of the house. I thought it was odd at first but then I realized that Isaiah was the only man in the house. He was surrounded by his brides and no one else. I guessed that he didn’t want to sully his hands with tossing me out, and so it was simply easier to pretend I wasn’t there. No one made eye contact. No one offered me a seat at dinner. No one invited me to dinner at all. They just ignored me. Isaiah sat at the table, spinning stories of his past experiences to the adoring listeners at his table. I hovered in the background, watching as Remy snuck guilty looks at me.

  Isaiah had forbidden her to speak to me. He had also forbidden her to speak, period, and had instructed her to keep her head bowed in a contrite manner. Poor Remy. No wonder she’d dreaded this so very much. Isaiah didn’t treat her l
ike a person. He treated her like a thing. A thing he wasn’t very fond of, to boot.

  “I’m going to get you out of here,” I told her bowed head. “I promise. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Ignore her, Penitence,” Isaiah said, and I watched her crumble a little, then turn her back to me.

  I hated him. I clenched my fists so I wouldn’t spring over the table and shove the steak he was eating down his throat. The other women seemed uneasy with Remy at the table. They glanced at her repeatedly, but no one challenged Isaiah, and the smiles they turned to him were just as adoring as ever.

  “I am retiring for the evening,” Isaiah announced at the end of dinner.

  The women all straightened. A few touched their hair.

  “I have decided that… Charity shall accompany me tonight.”

  The woman named Charity jumped to her feet, a flustered blush on her cheeks. The other women looked on enviously. Isaiah stood and tucked Charity’s hand in his arm, and his gaze moved down the table to where Remy sat, head bowed. “Penitence shall stay here for tonight. Penitence, I want you to keep your head bowed and think about how you can be a contributing part of our little community.”

  Remy nodded, her head bent.

  As the others exited the room, I hovered over Remy, wringing my hands. She remained seated, hunched over. Her hands were clasped and her lips moved as if she were speaking to herself. His words had been an order—a cruel one, to control her thoughts—and she had to obey. She ignored me, another one of his commands. I studied her for a minute longer, then frowned and headed in the direction Isaiah had gone.

  It was like the house had been emptied now that Isaiah had declared he was going to sleep. No one was awake. No one loitered to watch TV or play cards. I wasn’t even sure they had a TV in this place. It was utterly silent and more than a little creepy. I tiptoed through a hall and noticed the rooms were lined up like dorms. I tried one door and it wasn’t locked. A quick peek showed four bunks, each one of them inhabited by a sleeping woman. Room after room was set up the same way. There was a large double door at the end of the hall and I suspected that was where Isaiah would be resting. I cracked the door open and peeked in.

  To my surprise, it wasn’t an actual room, but a foyer. At the far end of the small hallway lay another simple door. Parked in front of this door was Charity, and she cradled a shotgun in her hand; a table next to her was covered in bottles of holy water, crosses, garlic, and other things I couldn’t make out.

  Okay, I hadn’t expected that. I thought he’d taken Charity with him to have sex, but it was clear that even Isaiah, weird though he was, didn’t feel comfortable sleeping without protection. The door behind her was covered in heavy bolts, locked from the other side. Clearly he didn’t trust his women to guard him well.

  Charity’s gaze shifted to me, peeking through the doorway. She said nothing, but her grip tightened on the shotgun. I winced and closed the door. “Sorry, I’m lost.”

  I tiptoed away. A shotgun blast wouldn’t kill me but it’d hurt like hell and I didn’t want to risk it unless I had to. I closed the door and chewed my lip, thinking hard.

  “Jackie,” called out a familiar voice from across the house. “Princess, where are you?”

  Zane! My heart thudded at the fear in his voice and I ran down the hall, my bare feet slapping loudly on the tile. I raced back to the front of the house and discovered Zane, Ethan, and Remy in the dining room. The men had found Remy. Ethan knelt before her, touching her cheek, a look of stark anger on his face. His nose was swollen, one of his eyes black with bruising.

  “Jackie,” Zane said with a sigh of relief and held out his arms. I ran to him, and he wrapped me in his embrace and kissed my hair, holding me close. “I woke up and you were gone, and we were here, and… well…”

  He coughed.

  I touched his cheek. “You were worried?”

  “I never worry,” he drawled. “I was just… enthusiastically searching for you.”

  I peeked over his shoulder. Ethan’s swollen nose and bruised eye looked like more than just enthusiasm. “If you say so, babe.”

  “You’re not supposed to be wandering off alone while I’m asleep,” Zane growled. “That’s fucking going to drive me crazy one of these days. You could have been hurt.”

  We both knew I’d been fine—immortals were hard to permanently hurt, kill, or maim, and as a result, we took a few more risks than most, knowing whatever was wrong would heal. Zane was just fussing over me.

  I glanced over at Ethan again. He was oblivious to our conversation, his gaze firmly on Remy. She continued to hunch over, head bent and eyes closed. Tears trickled down her face and I noticed Ethan had clasped her hand.

  “What is wrong with her?” The enforcer asked, clearly upset. “She will not answer me.”

  “She’s been forbidden to speak by her master,” I said bitterly. “She also can’t look up, can’t get up, and has to think about him all night. He’s horrible. We have to do something.”

  Zane stroked my hair. “You want me to go kill him for you, Princess?”

  I shook my head. “We can’t. Remy will die instantly.”

  “Has he threatened you? Hurt you?” Zane’s gaze roamed over me. His fingers lifted my chin and he studied my face, looking for bruises.

  “I’m fine, He didn’t touch me.” I smiled up at him. “Actually, they all pretended like I wasn’t there at all.”

  “You’re not a threat to him,” Zane said. “He’s hoping you’ll go away.”

  “I’m not going away,” I said stubbornly.

  “No, we’re not.” Zane said. “We’re going to find a way to free Remy and we’re going to take care of this once and for all.”

  I smiled up at him in surprise. “We are?”

  “Of course.” He leaned in and kissed my mouth, then pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket, patting for his lighter. “I know what it’s like to serve an unscrupulous master. It’s not something I’d wish on others.”

  I nodded and crossed my arms over my chest, looking over at Ethan. He had a handkerchief from his pocket and was dabbing Remy’s tears from her face. My heart broke for him. What would poor Ethan do if we couldn’t manage to free Remy?

  “So what do you suggest?” Zane asked me. “You’ve been here all day. You scoped out the area. Any ideas?”

  I twirled a piece of my hair around my finger and tugged, thinking. The robe I wore itched, but the other women hadn’t seemed to mind it. “There are thirty other women that live here,” I said. Then I thought of Charity and added, ”And I’m pretty sure they have shotguns.”

  “So no hostages then,” Zane said with a grin.

  I turned to look at him, a wicked smile crossing my mind. “Actually…”

  CHAPTER THREE

  On light feet, I crept into the first room. The women slept, their blankets uniform and their nightgowns high collared and long sleeved. The braids had been loosened to spill long, wavy hair over each pillow, and I wondered if he’d even let them have the option of cutting their hair if it pleased them. Controlling creep. I brushed my fingers over the forehead of the first woman. A swirl of her dreams surrounded me, coalescing into the mental image of her ‘room.’ Each dreamer occupied unique space in their own mind. This woman’s mental space was just as austere and stark as the room she currently occupied, with one notable exception—the walls were covered with pictures of Isaiah, smiling and kissing her. Yick. I brought the mental room into focus and then locked her in there, unable to wake.

  I shook my mind free and moved on to the next girl.

  #

  The sun began to creep over the horizon, and Zane’s eyes grew redder with every minute that ticked past. He held me in his arms, content to bury his face in my hair as we waited for Isaiah to awaken. We’d need to get out of here soon for Zane to be safe. I didn’t trust him around Isaiah, not after I’d seen how he treated Remy.

  We didn’t have long to wait. “Charity?” I heard Isaiah
step down the hall, then pause. “Charity? Where are you?”

  I smiled smugly to myself. We’d put Charity under last and delivered her back to her room. I’d disposed of her gun and bullets in two separate locations. All Isaiah would have seen of Charity was her empty chair.

  Zane’s arms tightened around me. I didn’t get up, just patted him on the arm. “Not much longer now.”

  Isaiah stormed into the room a few minutes later, staring at us. Remy and Ethan still sat at the dining room table, Remy’s face downturned. Ethan held her hand, continued to stroke her hair and comfort her, as if sensing what she needed the most. I didn’t get up from my perch in Zane’s lap, even when Isaiah’s gaze turned toward me, incredulously.

  “Where are my clothes? Where is my breakfast?” His voice sounded petulant. He looked disheveled, his hair sticking up from sleep, his pajamas wrinkled. He wore a loose robe, the belt trailing down one side, as if he didn’t know how to dress himself without female assistance. Sad.

  “No breakfast today, I’m afraid,” I said cheerfully. “There’s been a bit of a staffing change.”

  He stared at me as if I were crazy, then looked around the room again. He turned and bellowed out, “Verity! Grace! Chastity! Constance! Come to me!”

  Dead silence.

  Isaiah turned his gaze to me, and it was full of loathing and menace. “Where are they? What have you done to my wives?”

  I tilted my head and smiled at him. “They’re my hostages. I’ve put them to sleep, and you won’t get them back until you free Remy.”

  His gaze slid from my face to Zane’s, as if just now seeing just whose lap I sat upon. “Well, well. I should have guessed it was you with such an unruly slave. You were bound to come crawling back out of the woodworks sometime.”

  “Hey,” I said irritably. “That’s my master you’re talking to.”

  “He should command you to stand down, girl. You are fooling with the wrong immortal.”