by Debra Dunbar
I reached a hand toward the oak then hesitated. My supernatural green thumb had its limits — or did it? All I’d done so far was correct mineral imbalances in soil and adjust absorption rates. I’d never removed disease. I’d never cured. The oak was dying before my eyes, forgiving me my limitations. Noble. Accepting of its fate.
I couldn’t turn my back on this tree. My hand touched the damaged bark. A sensation of black sludge rocketed through me, twisting my stomach into a knot of pain. I pushed back, fighting my way through the haze of death, into the heart of the tree. The blight fought back, angrily defending its prey and stealing my breath with a smoky scent. A faint shout barely registered in my mind, along with the sensation of something on my arm. It felt strange, as though my body were coated in layers of wool, or as if I were buried deep inside another. Gold pushed back the black, expanding with a flash of light and heat.
“Amber!”
I was on my back, staring up at Darci’s dark brown eyes, her face framed by a cerulean sky. Jordan stood to the side with her hand covering her mouth. She wasn’t as concerned over my horizontal position as Darci was; she was too occupied staring at the Live Oak. Emphasis on “live”.
“Low blood sugar,” I told Darci as I tentatively sat up. Her eyebrows shot up, but she held her tongue. Jordan wasn’t so circumspect.
“You cured it! I’ve never seen a magical working have such a quick result. Wow, if you can do that for a tree, I can only imagine what you could do to help rebuild the swamp areas. Centuries of damage could be corrected in one day. You must meet my coven.”
“She must get a sandwich.” Darci’s voice was stern as she helped me to my feet.
“What kind of magic do you practice?” Jordan continued, undeterred.
“The low–blood–sugar kind.”
“Let’s get you some lunch,” Darci chimed in.
“But the tree… .”
“Yep. Looks like a tree to me.” Darci’s voice was cheerful as she waved a dismissive hand at the oak. “Exactly the same as all the other trees.”
“I know. It was sick — dying. Now it’s healed. She cured it.”
Darci pursed her lips, eyes giving the tree a quick sweep. “Huh. Looks exactly the same as it did before Amber fainted.”
Jordan turned toward me in mute appeal.
“It’s a lovely tree. Perhaps you were mistaken about the Phytophthora ramorum. It’s an easy mistake to make.” It wasn’t, but I’m not the greatest at thinking on my feet … or lying.
Darci grabbed my arm and hustled me to the car, away from Jordan and the inquisition that probably wouldn’t have ended until I’d confessed all. Low blood sugar. What a crappy excuse. I was feeling shaky and weak, but part of me realized it wasn’t from lack of food — at least the kind that went into my stomach. Healing the tree had drained every last bit of energy from me. The monster inside me, the succubus, crossed her arms in smug judgment.
I told you so. Now go find someone — anyone — and fuck their brains out.
* * *
3
We were tucked away in a dark booth at the rear of a busy French Quarter restaurant. Aromas of peppery spices and sizzling cooked meat filled the place, and my stomach growled in response. Under all the tempting food aromas was a faint air of age — like the heat and humidity of centuries had seeped into the very brick and beams of the building.
The Zydeco band was a perfect complement to the atmosphere. The drummer was inexplicably behind a wall of clear plastic, while the keyboard and guitar players stood just outside the enclosure. The man on the accordion danced close to the door to draw in passersby, but my eyes couldn’t stray from the woman front and center. She played a metal washboard that hung over her shoulders and across her chest. Her dark eyes flashed as she stomped her cowboy boots in a hopping, swirling, fast two–step that was so typical of Cajun dancing.
It was like I’d been transported to another world, where centuries melded together in the passionate embrace of scent and sound. The people, the buildings, the food and music — it was rich beyond words, larger than what I’d ever imagined. I knew immediately why Darci loved this city so, why she’d left the excitement of a different state and college to return here when that big scholarship had come in. It had hurt to lose my best friend to a city a thousand miles away, but now I understood her choice. It was about so much more than funds or a wise career move. This was a place that seduced your heart. I’d been here only a few hours, and I longed to make it my home too.
The waitress plopped two pints and several dishes in front of us. The glasses wept drops of condensation, but the significant appeal of the icy beer was outweighed by the bowl of red beans and rice in front of me. The thick, savory red was filled with shredded pork and chunks of beans. Garlic and cayenne gave what would have been bland food a bite of flavor and mild heat. I closed my eyes and murmured my appreciation at the first mouthful. This was the kind of food I could happily eat every single day.
“Okay, spill it. What the heck was that all about?”
I’d barely taken two bites when Darci launched into an interrogation. She’d been squirming across from me in the booth, casting me impatient looks as we ordered and waited for our food. The time had come to tell her everything I’d held back over the last few months. Still, I hesitated, worried that what I was about to confess would cost me my best friend.
“I healed that tree, but it took too much out of me and I passed out.”
Darci’s eyes bored into mine. “I’ve seen you bring back a wilted gardenia with some water and TLC, but I’ve never seen you do that before. There was light everywhere, then the tree just turned green, and all the black spots went away. Seriously, Amber — what the heck was that all about?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m part elf. I have this thing with plants — a kind of magic.”
“Elf?”
I nodded, and Darci let out a whoosh of breath, shaking her head toward the ceiling. “You’re joking me, right? People aren’t elves, they’re … people. How long have you been an elf? Did this occur after some sort of head trauma? Have you suddenly taken to hallucinogenic drugs since I came back south?”
“Elf. I was born this way. And no, I haven’t turned into a druggie or suffered a concussion.”
Darci stared at me, her expressive face disbelieving as she tried to make sense of what sounded ridiculously impossible. “So where are the pointy ears and the toy–making skills? You’re not the Keebler kind of elf, are you? Last time I checked, you were struggling to boil water.”
“No cookies. No toys. No pointy ears.” I did have the pointy ears, but my demon half worked to ensure I blended in with the human world. I’d been told it was some kind of self–preservation genetic thingie.
“This sounds like total bullshit, but I can’t think of any rational explanation for what I saw you do to that tree.” She still looked like she didn’t believe me.
“I swear I’m telling you the truth.”
Darci drained her pint in one long pull then slammed the empty glass onto the table. “Plants are it then? You’re not going to surprise me with any rings of invisibility that an evil sorcerer misplaced? You’re not escorting any hobbits and dwarves on a quest?”
“Plants.” I squirmed on the hard wooden bench, hoping the waitress would hurry with more drinks. “But I’m only half elf. The other half is demon.”
“Demon.” There wasn’t even a questioning note at the end of the word. “So, should I be researching exorcists? This is New Orleans. We could probably find someone to help you with the demon possession. I don’t know about the elf thing, though.”
I wish someone could help me with the demon thing. The elf, I was okay with.
“It’s not a possession; it’s just part of who I am. One of my parents was an elf, and the other was a demon.”
Darci looked about the room. “Where is that woman with more drinks? I need another drink. I really need another drink.”
“Me too,” I m
uttered.
We sat in uncomfortable silence, Darci refusing to meet my eyes. I was on the verge of tears. She was my best friend. If she couldn’t accept who I was, then no one could. I saw a lonely future before me, one full of lies and shallow friendships. My succubus self would forever deny me the joy of love, but the loss of hope for any sort of friendship hurt even worse. Was this life really worth living?
“Why does your supposedly best friend not know these things?” She finally burst out, her voice full of hurt and anger. “I lived with you for a year. I know that you pick out all the orange jelly beans, that your first boyfriend was Jeff Henrick in Kindergarten, and you got in trouble for kissing him in the coatroom. I know that you spent most of your childhood in therapy after your father died before your eyes when you were five, that you were convinced you’d killed him.”
I had killed him. No one believed me. Five–year–old children don’t get angry and shoot a lethal stream of electricity into their father. At least, five–year–old human children didn’t. I’d begun to think I’d imagined it, that the therapists were right, until the skill returned this past spring.
Darci took a deep breath. “I know all these things, and more, yet I don’t know that my best friend, the one I tell everything to, is a half–elf/ half–demon.”
“I didn’t know either!” I dashed the back of my hand across my eyes to wipe away the tears. “Darci, I swear I didn’t know until a few months ago. I wanted to tell you — I was desperate to tell you. Can you imagine how I felt finding this out? But how could I share it with anyone, even you? Would you have believed me, telling you this sort of thing over the phone? Heck, you hardly believe me now, and you saw what I did to that tree.”
The waitress arrived with another round of drinks, and Darci sipped the beer, staring intently at her bowl of red beans. I waited for her to speak, dreading what she might say.
“What kind of demon are you?” Darci asked, her voice tremulous. “Are you killing humans? Causing war? Taking souls?”
“Sex. I’m half succubus.” I wasn’t about to kill again — never, ever again.
Darci’s shoulders relaxed, and she finally looked at me. “Why does that not surprise me?” The beginnings of a wry smile twitched at the edges of her lips. “If that’s all, then I guess we’re good. I can deal with a tree–healing elf and nympho demon. Basically you’re the same Amber I’ve known for the past three years, only with different labels.”
“Being a succubus isn’t one big happy porno.” I didn’t want Darci to make light of this. I wasn’t the same Amber she’d known for years. Even I wasn’t really sure what I was. “I have sex with people and take energy from them during the act.”
“Does it hurt?” Darci leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“No, but my partners are linked to me for the rest of their lives. Every time they have sex, or masturbate, or even get turned on, I get a hit of energy from them.”
Darci shrugged. “Doesn’t sound too bad. If it doesn’t hurt them, and they have a fun toss with you, then what’s so wrong about that?”
“I’m a parasite. That’s what’s wrong.
“Parasites kill their hosts.” A smiled played around my friend’s mouth. “I’m thinking this is more like a symbiotic relationship.”
“I may not kill my host, but it’s hardly symbiotic. That would mean my victims actually got an equal benefit out of the deal. A lifetime of obsession and me getting a free ride on their energy isn’t actually a benefit.”
Darci rolled her eyes. “Girl, if Zac Efron came waltzing through the doorway and gave me one night of mind–blowing passion, I wouldn’t say ‘no’. And trust me, I’d be thinking of him every time I did the deed for the rest of my life. He’d be welcome to any energy in exchange. Seriously, what makes you think these ‘victims’ don’t benefit?”
“Yeah, but how would you feel about a husband that saw another woman’s face every time you made love? One who constantly fantasized that he made love to me as he rocked the bed with you?”
Darci grimaced. “Okay. Point taken. That would suck big–time. So it’s all or nothing then? Every time you have sex, you leave the guy totally obsessed?”
“Yeah. But that’s only half the burden. I’ll never marry, never have a real relationship. I’ll never love. The moment I have sex with a guy, it all fizzles to nothing, and I never want to see him again.”
That was what troubled me about the whole circumstance of my birth. Yes, the predator thing was bothersome, but I’ll admit that, selfishly, the denial of any future with a life–partner hurt the worst. Darci extended a hand to pat mine and clasped my fingers tight. Her eyes were full of sympathy as they met mine.
“I love you. Maybe you’ll not have the white dress and picket fence, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have caring relationships. Redefine love, Amber. And stop freaking out about this. It’s who you are — you can’t change that. Find a way to live with it that’s acceptable.”
I was freaking out. I always did, except I usually buried it deep inside under a calm, composed exterior. What I didn’t understand was how Darci wasn’t freaking out even more so then her initial disbelief and brief anger. She’d watched me perform magic — something that defied all logic. I’d confessed things that should have put me in the hospital with an IV full of anti–psychotic drugs. All that, and she’d shrugged it off. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.
“Thanks.” I gripped her fingers back.
Darci released my hand to raise her beer in salute. She had that narrowed–eye look that she always got when she was up to something. I clinked glasses with her, wondering what my friend was plotting.
“So, this sex demon thing might not be so bad after all. I’ve got an idea.”
Uh oh. Darci with an idea was scary. The woman was an unstoppable force when she got something in her noggin. I should know — I had been her freshman roommate.
“You’re not happy about draining energy and creating an obsession in your partners, but what if you target only bad guys — you know, sociopaths, con–artists, rapists.”
I choked on my beer. “Jesus, Darci! I’m not making a naked version of a citizen’s arrest. What I do involves intimacy. I’m not having sex with sociopaths and rapists!”
Darci grimaced. “Okay, so having sex with crazies and criminals wouldn’t be my choice either, but how about those hot guys who treat women like a nameless piece of ass? They’re fun to bang. You don’t care about seeing them afterward, and it would be a karmic kind of revenge. Yeah, you’d be like Batman for all us jilted women.”
I might be half demon, but at times like this, I truly wondered about Darci’s parentage.
“You’re really hung up on this vigilante–with–license–to–fuck thing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a decent idea, but it would take me forever to research my ‘victims’. I wouldn’t want to nail some blameless guy just because a bitter ex–girlfriend made up an ugly story.”
“True.” She pursed her lips, tapping the edge of her glass with a finger. “Okay, let’s forget about the whole crime–fighting succubus thing. How about guys who like one–night stands? Cute, non–criminal ones.”
That gave me pause. There were plenty of men out there who didn’t want a relationship, who would relish a fleeting moment of passion. Maybe I just needed to narrow down my candidate pool to those who were looking for what I was best suited to give.
“And don’t think I’m not connecting the dots between this revelation of yours and that sexy ‘life coach’ you’re running away from. Spill it, girl.”
Damn Darci. Nothing got past her. I took a long swig of the beverage and rubbed my temple — a combination of the cold drink and topic change giving me a sudden headache.
“He’s a full sex demon sent from Hel to help me better control my ‘urges’. I’m not willing to turn into the amoral succubus he wants me to be. He’s pissed that I won’t go all Mata Hari on every guy I see, so we’re at a bit of an impasse.”
“And you want him,” Darci prompted, her dark eyes gleaming with vicarious excitement.
I rested the cold glass against my suddenly feverish forehead. “You should see him. Zac Efron would look fugly next to him. Damn … he’s just… .”
“Pics? Why have I not seen this sexy demon on Instagram yet?”
I grimaced. “He’s got an ego the size of a house. I’m not going to let him catch me snapping his picture with my phone, or include him in a selfie. I’d never hear the end of it.”
Darci leaned closer. “Okay then, describe him. If you’re this worked up about a guy, he’s got to be a god.”
He was. Everything any woman or man ever wanted. Either the way he looked now, or otherwise. A flash of light and he could be anything — man, woman, blond, dark, tall, thin, muscular. Dream, and he would oblige. This was the magic of a sex demon — an ultimate fantasy in the flesh.
“Demons can change form like an outfit, but for me he’s always appeared to be a Mediterranean playboy — high cheekbones, sharp jaw and chin, with olive skin. His eyes are very light brown — like a tiger’s–eye gemstone, and he’s got the darkest brown hair. It’s so soft — like silk, like mink. I just want to bury my face in it, to fist it in my hands all night long.”
That was a huge admission. I was on a roll, pouring my entire obsession across our table, knowing that Darci would sympathize. She was like my confessor — a voyeuristic confessor.
“Oh. My. God.”
I couldn’t stop. “We fight, and when he’s angry with me, he’s even sexier. It’s all I can do to keep from jumping him. His eyes glow like molten gold, and his lips — oh, his lips. So full and soft. To lick them, to bite them, would be a little bit of heaven.”
My imagination ran wild envisioning kissing Irix. He’d taste of rum and bitter–sweet chocolate, and the skin across his chest and down would have a tang of salt and sun. A trail of soft, light hair would lead the way toward his hips. My hands on his ass would feel the solid tightness of his muscles. He’d be rock against me, urging—
