Blood of the Succubus

by McGeary, Duncan

  “Her prey?” He believed everything Serena had said, and yet the words of doubt still popped out of his mouth: a modern man, denying the unnatural, the magical, the unseen.

  “Look, if you are going to doubt everything I say,” Serena said, “we should end this partnership right here.”

  Partnership. Cary liked the idea. He liked her, and when she touched his hand, he’d felt a stirring within, as if this was someone he could really see spending time with, talking to…cuddling…maybe even…Wait, what’s she doing?

  Serena grabbed her coat and stood up, visibly annoyed.

  He put his hand on her arm, pulling her back. “Don’t leave! I believe you, it’s just a lot to take in.”

  ***

  She stared down at him. It seemed like he was flirting with her.

  “Cary, you told me an outlandish story about a girl who you thought was a monster, and you didn’t expect me to believe you. Not only do I believe you, but I can take it farther. She is the real deal. If you can’t wrap your brain around this fact, then we need to part ways.”

  “I get it,” he said.

  “You say Doug was your best friend. This is deadly serious. This creature has killed and killed for decades, centuries…perhaps even longer, as impossible as that seems. Who knows how old she really is?”

  Cary passed his hand over his face and gave her a deeply somber gaze. “I totally believe you.”

  Serena sat back down. “Thank you.”

  He frowned. “You say she changes looks?”

  “Hair color and style, eye color, makeup. She usually changes her style of clothing. What doesn’t change is her manner: cute, pixie-like, charming.”

  “A manic pixie dream girl?” he said.

  “Exactly!” Serena exclaimed, smiling slightly.

  “But her face looks the same, right?”

  Serena had to think about it. A roster of images passed through her mind, and she realized that, yeah, the face was pretty much always the same. “I don’t know whether she can’t change her face or she’s just too lazy to.”

  “So how about if we get a black and white drawing of her face, no hair, no color, just the basic outlines, and we pass that around town?”

  Serena looked thoughtful. “That might work. But if she sees the poster, she might run.”

  “We don’t have to post it. We can just show it around.”

  Serena nodded slowly. “It might work.” Bend was just the right sized town; maybe a hundred thousand people in the city limits at any one time, large enough for Kristen/Suzanne to feel safe, but small enough that a canvassing approach wouldn’t be hopeless.

  She hesitated. Should she contact Rick and see what he thought? Somehow she thought he’d say no, and she didn’t want to hear that answer right now.

  “Let’s do it,” Serena said.

  Chapter 9

  Eisheth was the first to meet the strangers. She rose naked and unashamed and emerged from the hut. Later, she realized it was a mistake. These barbarians had different customs, and nudity was not one of them. Even at night, even in the dark, even beneath the blankets, they covered themselves up. It was a tactical error—but then, she didn’t know what tactics were; she didn’t understand war and dominance.

  They were all men, astride shaggy horses. Unlike the men of the village, these invaders wore their hair and beards long, looking uncannily like their steeds. The women arrived later, silent, eyes lowered, little more than beasts of burden pulling the wagons of the tribe.

  The leader was the biggest of them, astride a large red horse. He stared down at her with slack-jawed astonishment. His hair was red too, a color Eisheth had never seen before on a man, and was braided, with colorful beads threaded through the braids. His mustache drooped, curling below his chin.

  Most strange, he carried weapons all over his body and on his horse: a small knife at his belt, a longer blade hanging from his saddle, a bow slung over one shoulder, a quiver filled with arrows over the other.

  How does he manage to ride? Eisheth wondered.

  The man gazed around the village as if he owned it.

  He is magnificent! Eisheth felt herself responding to him.

  Another tactical mistake. The leader, and the men behind him, felt her desire. They would never forget it.

  She instinctively understood something was wrong. She motioned to one of the villagers, who were emerging from their homes to watch, and urgently whispered for him to bring her a cloak. He ducked into the nearest house and quickly returned with an old robe. She wrapped it around herself without comment.

  “Welcome to Lilith’s Home,” she said. Visitors were unusual, but not unheard of. The mountain passes were difficult, but not impassible. “Our blessing upon you.”

  “We have heard of the blessings of this place,” the man rumbled. His voice was an octave lower than any Eisheth had ever heard. It was undeniably masculine, yet sounded forced. The appearance of virility is all-important to these strangers, she realized. She wondered how much was real and how much was bluster.

  He jumped off his horse and approached her. He loomed over her, which no villager would have dared to do. He smelled of sweat, tinged with horsehair and leather. Eisheth felt her heart beating faster, a flush coming over her pale skin. She’d never been afraid of a man, never felt threatened, but there was something about this newcomer…

  Her hands were hidden, holding the cloak closed, but she felt her talons grow beneath the cloth. She took a deep breath.

  “Blessings and welcome to all,” she said.

  The man stared down at her, unflinching. She stared back, defiant. It was yet another mistake, one she and her sisters would pay for. But she couldn’t help herself. Something about this man made her want to take him—but even stranger, she wanted him to take her.

  “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” the man said. His eyes were green, and beneath were large freckles, running down into his red beard. His breath smelled of meat. She stepped back.

  “I am Eisheth,” she said. “And you are?”

  “Komor, of the Draast,” he said. He bowed his head slightly.

  “You are welcome, Komor of the Draast.”

  “The stories do not tell the full truth,” he breathed. “You are beautiful. A man must see it…and feel it.” He grabbed his crotch at the last words.

  Her talons sharpened, poking through the cloak, but again she hid her feelings. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to kill this interloper or have intercourse with him.

  “A true Goddess,” he said. He turned and motioned, and his men dismounted. “My men and horses are thirsty. Where is your well?”

  Eisheth glanced at young Coss, who nodded. He took the reins of the leader’s horse.

  “Stop,” Komor commanded. Coss stopped, his eyes wide at the loudness of the man’s voice. Komor unstrapped the long sword from the saddle, then patted the horse’s rear end and nodded at Coss, who led it up the path.

  Eisheth almost objected. The village spring issued from the mountainside above, just out of sight. But it was clear water, not meant for animals. The animals drank from the lesser springs, far below.

  “Go ahead,” Komor commanded his men. All but a few of the tribesmen followed. Eisheth noticed that those who remained behind were the biggest and most heavily armed.

  Naamah came walking up the path toward them, her hips swaying with unconscious ease, followed by three of her young lovers, two men and a woman. She was clothed, but just barely.

  Komor and his lieutenants felt rather than saw her coming. They turned, eyes widening. One of the men let out a grunt that sounded like the noises that came out of a man at the height of his climax.

  Naamah’s hands went to her breasts as if to hide them—which said something, because she was most shameless of the three sisters. Eisheth would have sworn that nothing could embarrass her.

  The eros that had inundated the village the entire day was growing stronger still, but this was not an innocent expression of life
, but something darker, meaner. Eisheth noticed one of Naamah’s lovers take off his cloak and throw it over the young Goddess’s shoulders.

  “What is the reason for your visit?” Eisheth asked Komor, keeping her voice calm.

  “Reason?” Komor cocked his head, looking back at his followers, who smiled broadly. “Do I need a reason?”

  “We are a small village,” Eisheth said. “We will try to accommodate your men, of course, but our resources are limited. Perhaps you should stay in the valley below.” There were several settlements in the lush valley that in most years didn’t need the fertility ceremonies of the Goddesses.

  He laughed. “They said the same thing. ‘Go to Lilith’s Home! It is more bountiful. The Goddesses shall take care of you.’” He winked at her. “I think they were frightened of us. Our enemies have spread unfair stories about us.”

  Nothing could have reinforced his dangerous nonchalance more than his wink. Eisheth felt a shock run through her. Had any man ever dared wink at her?

  She should have ripped his throat out then and there. But in those days, she hadn’t yet killed. Her instincts were right, but her experience hadn’t prepared her for what evil mankind could do. Nor did she have the slightest suspicion that a Goddess could be vulnerable to mere mortals.

  “You cannot stay,” she said. “You must go back to your own homes.”

  “Cannot?” Again he quirked his head at his men, who smirked back. “Yet here we are, and here we will stay. We have no place to go back to, Goddess. We set out for Lilith’s Home with the intention of making it our home. Surely you can spread your blessings farther than this little valley.”

  Eisheth was speechless. Never before had a man contradicted her. She didn’t know what to do. When the doors of the temple opened, she felt relief and gratitude.

  Agrat Bat would take care of it.

  The eldest sister looked like a normal woman, fleshed out but not abundantly so. Her hair was the whitest blonde, and in the flickering fire of the torches, her blue eyes glowed. Agrat Bat went through none of the polite preliminaries, as if she already understood what was happening.

  “You are not welcome here,” she told Komor. “You must leave.”

  “As I was telling your sister Goddess, we cannot leave, for we have no place to go,” he said. “Let us stay, and we will help you. We will bring you the riches of the lands around us, for none can stand before us.”

  “I don’t understand,” Naamah said. “You would take what is not yours?”

  Komor’s laugh echoed through the valley. “You have never been among real men, have you? Ask these pathetic followers of yours what happens outside this place. They know, I can tell.”

  Eisheth couldn’t help herself. She looked at the nearest villager, who averted his eyes.

  Agrat Bat wasn’t so easily intimidated. “We do not care what happens outside. You will not be allowed inside.”

  “Listen, bitch Goddess,” Komor snarled. “I’ve counted your men; I’ve counted your weapons. There is no way you can stop us.”

  Old Forr chose that moment to defend his Goddess. “You mustn’t speak to Her that way,” he said. He walked up to Komor, his hands at his sides, no doubt hoping to convince the other man.

  Komor’s sword came out of its scabbard so fast that Eisheth only caught the tail end of the motion, after the wide swath of the blade went through Forr’s neck. His old bald head tumbled down his chest and onto the stone path. His body fell, unmoving, but the head kept bouncing down the stones, faster and faster, until it veered to one side and off a sheer cliff.

  Perhaps if, at that moment, the Daughters of Lilith had transformed into their real forms, if their talons and their fangs had ripped apart Komor and his lieutenants, if they had rallied the village to fight the tribesmen, perhaps the Succubae could have continued to live as Goddesses. Perhaps all the evil things that happened after that day would never have happened.

  Eisheth doubted it. The evil of man would have caught up to them eventually.

  She saw the idea flash into her sisters’ eyes, but then Eisheth did a terrible thing. More terrible than anything she had done before or since.

  She fell in love with a mortal man. A strong, powerful man. The Storm King, they called him.

  An evil man who would lead them to their own destruction.

  Chapter 10

  By Tuesday, Jeremy’s goal was to finish all of his schoolwork in advance so he could spend every moment of the weekend with Cathy. He even passed on American Idol to do it. He was considering watching the movie version of The Great Gatsby so he could plow through the assigned essay question, but a lifetime love of books just wouldn’t allow it.

  Someone pounded on his door before Jeremy was ten pages in. He rolled off the bed, book still in hand, and opened the door. Marty was standing there with a puzzled look on her face.

  “Marty?” he quizzed her. “What’s up?” Normally, she barged right.

  “You’ve got a visitor,” she said.

  Cathy? Jeremy’s heart leapt, all thought of completing his homework gone in an instant. Should he introduce her to everyone? It suddenly occurred to him that despite his obsession with her, none of his family knew about her, not even Marty, who butted into everything. Had Cathy asked him not to tell anyone about them? He couldn’t remember, but had the distinct impression that she wanted their relationship to stay on the down low.

  But someone completely different stepped into the light. Jeremy blinked several times before recognizing her. Lucinda Peters. The love of his life of fourteen days prior. Amazing how two weeks can change everything, he thought.

  Lucinda flicked her dark, curly hair over her shoulder and waved goodbye to Marty, who gave Jeremy a strange look as she closed the door. Lucinda sat on Jeremy’s bed, crossing her muscular legs at the knee. He wondered what it would be like to be squeezed between such legs.

  It would be like dying and going to heaven, he thought. He blushed at the image, as if he was betraying Cathy.

  He’d seen pictures of Lucinda in the school paper, and he was surprised that without her animating personality, she wasn’t really that good-looking, and that she was actually kind of chubby. She was short and compact, with a round face. But her personality was so warm and comforting that she lit up any room she was in.

  Except this room, on this evening. She looked down nervously.

  “What’s wrong?” Jeremy asked, surprising himself with the depth of his concern.

  “I just broke up with Derrick,” she said.

  He didn’t know what to say to that. “Sorry” seemed wrong. Breaking up with him was probably the best thing that could have happened to her. But why was she telling him?

  “He’s kind of a jerk,” he ventured.

  “To say the least,” she said. “But it got me thinking about how I’ve treated you.”

  “Wait,” he began.

  “No, I need to say it,” she interrupted. “I’ve been a shallow twit. I had a good friend in you, and I treated you badly. You have every reason not to like me.”

  “It’s not like that,” he said.

  “I thought I could just waltz up to you and bat my eyes and you’d fall for me in an instant. Instead, it was like I wasn’t even there. And that got me thinking that maybe I deserved it.”

  “I got over it in junior high,” he said. “You forgot I was there, even when I was sitting right next to you. You were always dating some jock or another. I gave up.”

  Lucinda blushed, as though she hadn’t really expected him to agree with her. “I never treated you fair, Jeremy,” she said. “I knew how you felt about me, and I strung you along, because I liked being around you. But you weren’t…cool, you know? At least, not to the other kids. And I…I seemed to attract the popular boys, and I was too weak to resist them.”

  A couple of weeks before, this would have been a revelation to Jeremy. An example of the kind of divine karma that never happened in real life.

  “Why are you tel
ling me this?” he asked.

  “Because I don’t trust that new girl, Cathy,” Lucinda said with surprising fervor. “I saw you with her, and I wanted to warn you…she’s a fake. She’s not what she appears to be.”

  “What she appears to be?”

  “You don’t see her when she’s not around you. It’s like she turns into a movie star the instant she sees you. All the girls are talking about it. I don’t trust her, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy was unwilling to look at her. It was all so weird, so petty. “Uh, thanks, but…I got this.”

  Lucinda looked down and flushed. “I understand. You have no reason to believe me. But just watch out, OK? Pay attention to what she’s doing. Make sure she’s really who you think she is.”

  “OK,” he said, putting his hand on the door, an obvious sign that he was ready for Lucinda to leave.

  She started out the door, then turned and put her hand softly on his arm. It wasn’t like the sexually electric charge that Cathy gave him when she touched him. It was comfortable, caring, and had a strong pull on him that enticed him even in the midst of his infatuation with the new girl.

  “You want your first time to be right, Jeremy,” Lucinda said. “With someone who really cares.”

  She turned and left without seeing the dumbfounded look on his face. It sounded like a promise, like she was offering herself. But that was crazy. Lucinda Peters hadn’t spent more than five minutes alone with him in over two years, and those five minutes were an uncomfortable wait outside the principal’s office after he got in a fight with one of Lucinda’s jerk boyfriends. Who was jealous of Jeremy, for some reason.

  Lucinda had vouched for him instead of her boyfriend, he suddenly remembered.

  Without him realizing it, a wedge had wiggled its way into his heart, dividing it in two. One side was much bigger, swollen with desire, but the other side, while smaller, was warmer, more comforting.