by Al K. Line
"And then what?"
"Then I at least know what she really looks like at the moment. It's not much to go on, but it's better than going in totally blind with no clue."
"What about us? She'll know we are here too, won't she?"
"She won't care about you, and she won't even care about poor Oliver there too much. But she won't be interested in me as I have no intention of letting her know I'm here."
"What, you gonna vanish or something?"
"No, I will shield myself. Here but not here, a part of the smell."
Kate sniffed the coffee-rich air, and looked at me, confused. "The smell?"
"I'm not just a pretty face. Look, I know I'm an enforcer, and some object to that, but I do good work, keep things together, on track, but I'm a wizard, Kate. I'm more than that."
"I know, Faz, but I still don't get the smell thing."
"I can blend back. You know how it is, that nobody in here sees me. They see a hot woman, but me? They see nothing. Succubi may be incredibly powerful, but they are fixated on men. Men they can take. Weak men, or men with a weakness. I will be nothing but a coffee-scented no-man. It's hard to explain, even to myself, but I can blend right back like you wouldn't believe. It doesn't work on all Hidden, but for Ankine Luisi it should. I will be the smell of this place. My magic will keep me hidden."
It's an old trick, just a blending really, but a different take on an old staple. One way out of many to be there but not there. A diverting of energy to make it easy to hide in plain sight. Subtle and yet immersive, the power of the mind, of the will, bending magic to make it do your bidding.
"Okay, if you're sure. But how long is this going to take? I'm tired, Faz. I need to rest, soon."
"Sorry, I should have never called. But I missed you."
"Haha, you've seen me loads today, more than for ages. Where have you been lately?"
I'd been keeping a low profile, trying to forget about her, keeping contact to a minimum as my feelings grew. It hadn't helped. It made things worse. "Just busy," I mumbled.
"Look, there she is."
We both turned to look out the steamy window. I let my ink vibrate as I sank into the ether, nothing but the smell of coffee and the slightest hint of a man. A technique that had come in handy over the years, perfect for Hidden that were so full of themselves they never searched for danger and believed themselves invincible.
Sickness enveloped me as I hunched forward and watched outside, but I remained little but a wisp of a man. A smell amongst unknowable beverages consumed all around me.
Even through the sickness I smiled as Oliver tugged at the collar of his t-shirt and looked ready to pounce on the nearest human as Ankine Luisi made her presence felt.
Damn, she was enchanting.
Stalking
As we watched the people go about their business, in and out of stores, buying clothes, food, pasties from Gregg's or the more expensive Cornish Pasty Pavilion, and blowing on the food in their mouth in that "Hot, hot, hot" way that's always comical as long as it's not you with burning meat on your tongue, I felt oddly relaxed considering I was stalking the most dangerous woman in the country. Maybe on the planet at that moment.
The Armenian swung her Debenhams bag in a carefree, what-a-lovely-day-it-is way, seemingly oblivious to the cooling afternoon and the dullness of the new paving already plastered with discarded chewing gum beneath her feet. She wore a light summer dress, striking yellow like a buttercup, sleeveless with a flared hem. A seventies original—I know my eras.
Her arms were slender, but nothing that would make you take a second look. In fact, she appeared entirely unmemorable. It was the dress that drew a little attention because of its simplicity and style, not the woman.
She had brown hair, rather straight, long but a little limp even though she held a plain umbrella to stop the rain. She was slim, verging on scrawny, with the body of a middle distance runner—not very curvy, but athletic and at the same time womanly.
Ankine Luisi's features were unremarkable. She was neither drop-dead gorgeous nor too plain, but somewhere in-between. Average, like most people are. You would look at her, then look away and go about your business.
As a succubus, the Armenian could take on any human form she wished. Even locked to our world, because of the time spent here, she could still manipulate reality in ways well beyond the abilities of most wizards or mages. Yet she chose, like she always had, a rather innocuous image. This was her true stroke of genius.
The truth is that men get nervous around extremely pretty women, or they simply think they have no chance and won't risk a rebuff, so you often find that truly exceptional looking females find it harder to get dates and attract male company than somewhat good looking ladies do. This is obviously why women seldom approach me. Haha.
Ankine Luisi thrived on men. Used them, spat them out, and moved on to the next, sometimes becoming involved in many at the same time. So she took on the form of someone that was entirely approachable, and was able to set her sights on unsuspecting males without doing anything to scare them off or make them reticent.
We are, and I hate to admit it—but after over a hundred years of being a man and seeing how we behave, I can't deny it—fickle, easily led astray, and suckers for anyone that actually takes a shine to us.
Watching Ankine Luisi go about her business in a carefree, happy-with-the-world way, was like a lesson in how to bend a man to your will. Kate and I watched, entranced.
There was a way about her. She walked with confidence, yet without being cocky or unapproachable. She had amazing posture, and smiled and acted around men in ways that made me feel ashamed to be born a member of such a weak gender. What was wrong with us? Why were we so pathetic?
She would "accidentally" bump into men, giggle and tilt her head just so, smile and hold eye contact a fraction longer than necessary. She touched arms, kept her hand there, slowly drew it away, and the results were amazing to watch. As she moved off, the men would turn and smile, lost in a daze of boosted confidence and wonder at the woman they had just met.
She would haunt their dreams. She would go to them and a sense of her would always remain. This was her power. That contact, that sexual chemistry, it took something from those men, gave her a tiny piece of them. The magic that is in all of us, some of it would be hers, making them that little bit more empty inside, less connected to the magical world.
It increased her essence, her power, her life-force. She became stronger, better able to be who she was. A succubus that could ensnare you and take advantage of your weakness because you are just a man and have no control over your urges or your need to be wanted and loved and made to feel special.
Women feel the same way, I know, but it's different. We are weaker, and in her presence even the strongest man would find it nigh on impossible to resist her. If a few seconds of her company made men forget where they were going, or what they were doing, then imagine what a few hours, or a night in her company would do to a man. They would be hers.
This was exactly what she had done to Mage Teppo Quimby, Ambassador of the Finnish Dark Council.
The man was a fool. But not as foolish as Oliver.
"What's she doing now?" Kate couldn't get closer to the glass if she tried, and I had to stop myself doing the same.
But I remained motionless, hidden, kind of put out if I'm honest that Kate even remembered I was there. Maybe that's the connection we have? I hope so.
We watched as Ankine Luisi finished with her flirting, and finally made it to Oliver. She'd known he was there, and was in no hurry, yet Oliver seemed entirely oblivious to her. He really was a fool. So caught up was he in his own sense of self-worth and invincibility that he forgot not everyone is just potential food.
She circled him, like a shark circles a drowning fisherman, smiling and twirling her black umbrella so rain spun off and drops caught him on the nose. He drew his attention away from an overweight man entering a bookstore and rubbed at his face with
a frown. Then their eyes locked before she looked away, coy and flirtatious.
He actually licked his lips, like dinner had been served, still with no idea it was he that was on the menu. He forgot about me entirely, never even glanced at the coffee shop as he swaggered over to Ankine Luisi.
She cocked her head to the side and closed her umbrella as the rain gave up to regroup. It was a fascinating mating ritual, entirely one-sided.
The Armenian looked around, but seemed satisfied that nobody else was of more interest. She rubbed at her arm, from her wrist up to her shoulder, drawing Oliver's eyes to hers, entrancing him. With full lips hardly moving, she spoke. The already captivated vampire stepped closer, face flushed, lost in her.
This man would rip the throat out of a human being given half the chance, had killed countless, cared nothing for what he saw as weak creatures, but he was helpless. His blood magic worked against him as it drew the Armenian succubus to his power—more for her to consume—and he appeared unaware of what was happening.
He stepped closer at her words, but something changed and she turned, maybe looking at us, maybe at the building, but it was impossible to tell. She acted as though it was a little too easy. A vampire of his age and power so easily taken, and out in the open, in daylight no less. Or maybe she simply lost interest and had already grown bored.
As Oliver spoke, Ankine Luisi lifted a hand to her mouth, tittering like a schoolgirl. She nodded.
He inched forward and puckered excited, dry lips. She kissed him. Gently, lightly, and tenderly. He practically fell flat on his face.
With that she was gone. Skipping away, bags swinging in that carefree way of hers, presumably to continue her daily spending spree.
Oliver was bent double, hands resting on shaky, thin thighs. He remained that way for maybe a minute, getting odd looks from passersby, then he stood.
He was, to put it bluntly, seriously pissed off.
"Well, if she can do that to a vampire like Oliver, I am guessing there won't be much of your Ambassador left by now," said Kate, leaning back, the spell broken.
I let the magic fade, felt myself again, only minor sickness, and turned to her. "I think you're right, Kate. Well, what do you think?"
"I think you are in a lot of trouble, Faz Pound. I think that you better watch your step or she will eat you up and spit out the gristle you like to call muscle."
"What, me, get mesmerized by a woman of magical powers? As if?" I smiled at her, hoping she got the lame attempt at humor.
She did, so ignored it completely. "Just be careful. But I can't help you, Faz. She is an odd one, that's for sure. I've never seen anything like that. She's like a vampire when we, you know, sort of glamor people, only she's a real expert."
"Don't feel bad. It's what she does, and she's had a lot of practice." That was the bit I was worried about. Ankine Luisi was true Hidden, a creature wholly born of magic. I was a man who knew a bit of magic and got sick to the stomach if I tried to push the boundaries. Plus, in case you haven't noticed, I kind of act like an idiot around sexy ladies.
"Goodbye, Faz." Kate got up and kissed me for the second time that day. I put a hand to my cheek like I was in a bad movie. I watched as Kate walked out the door, ignored Oliver—who was still far from right—and was gone.
Oliver glared in at me. I guessed I'd better go visit Teppo Quimby before Ankine Luisi finished her shopping.
There was still an hour or more before the stores closed so I had plenty of time. I wanted to see what condition he was in, and if he could help, before I confronted her. Again. I wished more than anything I could remember what had happened the night before, but I had nothing.
Maybe it was a good thing. I assumed that whatever had happened wouldn't exactly bolster my confidence. Not only had a previous meeting with her ended with me killing an innocent man and the burden I now had to carry, but she'd also put me off chess, and I loved that game.
What was the best way to deal with her? Use as much magic as I possibly could to protect myself, don't look her in the eye, and suck as much of her magic out of her as I could before she wiped my mind and I killed another Grandmaster. Even that had more holes in it than an elf's ear, and the consequences for taking magic from a true Hidden meant it was a seriously bad idea. Still, it was better than nothing, and all I had.
Yeah, not much of a plan, but I'm a lover not a thinker. I hadn't done much of either lately, especially the loving bit.
I got up and drained my coffee. I should have ordered a stronger one, but I didn't know how to ask for it. The Mighty Scowler at Baristas, Ancient Dismisser of Complicated Coffees, left the building.
The end was approaching. I just hoped I managed to survive so I could ask Kate to come help me recuperate and I could bill Rikka for my suit and the bonus I was expecting for what was becoming one of the worst day's work I'd ever had. I hadn't even got to the main job yet, so, yeah, it was a very bad day.
Outside, I was lost in thought as I turned to go back to the car. Then I remembered Oliver. Damn, it was probably best to take him with me, just so Taavi knew I had dealt with the problem. Last thing I wanted was him on my back after the day I'd had already, and much as I loathed Oliver it was better than being summoned by Taavi and getting picked up by the Chinese goons again.
I turned, but he wasn't there. Well, his loss. No way would I go looking for him. I headed back to the multi-story car park, the aroma of coffee trailing behind me like memories of nervous conversations with confident baristas. The streets were slowly emptying of shoppers, the TV crews and the law had long since given up the morning incident as maybe bizarre but certainly not supernatural, and I, the invisible everyman, unassuming and entirely forgettable, pulled the parking ticket from my wallet as I got off the street and out of the rain.
"You set me up," growled Oliver, standing by the machine I had to use to pay so I could exit.
"And you let her glamor you. You're an old vampire and you let her glamor you. Don't you—" I was shoved from behind. Then I was off my feet and before I had a chance to say something clever at the smug sneer on Oliver's face I was up three flights of stairs and on the top level of the car park, back out in the rain, dumped on the wet ground with Oliver, and two other vampires stood in front of me, fangs showing, looking less than happy.
"You owe me for a new suit," I said as I got to my feet.
"You owe me more than that," said Oliver.
Three sets of fangs shone dully. Maybe it was time to think of a career change.
Unhappy Vampires
"Are you nuts?" I shouted as I stood and felt my tattoos whirl dark magic around my body in pulses of sickness that I knew had already turned my eyes as black as my anger, sparks of silver making the vampires shimmer and my body hum in tune with the Empty.
See, this is why these damn vampires are such a nightmare to be around. Most of them can't control themselves if they feel affronted. What's worse is that if they do get angry, and the plea for vengeance leaks into the communal vampire consciousness, then you can bet there will be a few more than keen to back them up. They love a bit of drama, and if that involves sucking on someone full of magic then all the better.
"You set me up." Oliver was livid. Worse, he had the hunger. His encounter with Ankine Luisi had pushed all his buttons and he craved sustenance. She'd geared him up then taken away a part of him. He needed to replace that lost energy and what better way than a snack of Spark?
"It was only to see who she was, what she was like. You know as well as I do that Rikka and Taavi want her gone. She can cause all kinds of trouble for everyone. Not just our Council, but yours too. Why do you think he told you to tag along?"
"I'll deal with her, and he'll thank me for it. But first we'll deal with you."
"Not such a hotshot now, are you, Spark," said the girl from that morning, the one in the tree. Her friend was next to her. He sneered, a poor attempt at copying Oliver. The younger vampire looked more like a bad imitation of Elvis than an
evil immortal. At least Oliver had his lip curl down to perfection.
Both were still immature by vampire standards, maybe twenty or thirty years into their new life, and both seemingly only late twenties when it happened. They wore current fashion, which looked wrong on a vampire. Most are pretty sharp looking and have a sense of individuality, not these two—they had a lot to learn, if they lived. Suddenly, I understood what had been bugging me about them both since I met them that morning. They were trying too hard. Too hard to blend in, too hard to be badass, and they failed on all fronts.
"Look, kids," I said, holding my hands out to them even though that probably wasn't such a good idea. I leaked a little, and dark energy, with twisted faces and other warning effects I'd mastered long ago, sort of shot toward them and burned through the asphalt. They jumped back and Oliver growled. "Oops. Look, I've got no argument with you two, Oliver either if he just behaves. Do you know what kind of trouble you will be in when Taavi hears about this?"
They looked at each other then at Oliver. I saw the uncertainty. "Okay, best outcome is, you kill me, and Oliver defeats Ankine Luisi, the most powerful woman on the planet. The woman that just glamored him surrounded by a bunch of shoppers. Worst outcome is, I kick your asses and tell Taavi. Now, if you leave, then I'll say no more of it to anyone, and me and Oliver here can sort out our differences alone."
"We're not scared of you, Spark," said the young male, stepping forward. He brushed freshly cut hair behind an ear, the red locks stiff from some kind of product. I swear he did it thinking it made him seem relaxed and cool.
Kids, what are you gonna do? "Okay, last chance. Leave us to it, or else."
"Or else what?" he said, puffing out his chest, showing his fangs like it made a difference to me.
"Or else I will pull all that you are out of you. I will destroy you. I will take your magic, your blood magic, and I will send it back to the Empty and you will be your true age." I could see the uncertainty, the fear of what he would be without his blood magic. The girl too. She was thinking about it. How old were they? I wondered if they were older than I'd thought. Maybe sixty? Older? A far cry from the youthful bodies and looks they had now anyway. They were just a bit on the daft side, bless their cold, vicious hearts.
