Incubus Inc. 3

by Randi Darren

  Rolling over onto his stomach, Sam looked ahead of himself. He could see a number of cars he could get behind, but that would still be temporary. He needed to get across the street and underneath the shooters.

  Deciding on a course of action, Sam tucked his wings in tight, then rolled beneath the car he was hiding next to. Even as everything was happening, people were still driving along the street. Some were going much faster than they should, but traffic hadn’t stopped.

  No one was getting out to look at what was going on.

  Rolling out the other side of the car and into the street, Sam sprang to his feet. Or at least, he tried to.

  It felt more like a stumble than a spring, but he did manage to get moving. Going forward at a lurching run, he played frogger with his life on the line. Dodging between passing cars, he wove in and out between them as they zipped by.

  Getting to the center divider, Sam took a moment to glance upward. There were a number of likely places where the shooters could be, but he didn’t spot any of the people. They were most likely in the middle of displacing themselves now that they’d taken their shots.

  Looking around at the cars flying past him, he went forward once again. Through the first lane and into the second, where he was promptly clipped by someone’s side-view mirror. The entire assembly snapped off against his hip and clattered to the ground.

  Wincing in pain, Sam stumbled out of the street and onto the sidewalk. Whoever hit him didn’t stop or stick around. They raced ahead and didn’t even look back.

  Suddenly, a massive wave of Essence came down on Sam from behind. It was so large that it couldn’t be mistaken as anything other than an attack.

  Throwing up a shield, Sam spun around to face his attacker.

  Standing on the other side of the street was a Fire Elemental. Or so Sam guessed from the fact that they were a giant bonfire.

  Gold and red flames that shot up thirty feet into the air were burning in place on the sidewalk. It looked as if it would consume a substantial quantity of fuel, but it had no visible fuel source.

  What was heading for him was a fireball the likes of which Sam had never seen before. It was filled to the brim with power and seeking his impending doom.

  Sam barely had time to blink, before he was forced to create a flat plane of Essence in front of himself. A shield of sorts.

  It was slanted like a ramp, with the base of it farther away from himself. The upper part of the slope pointed straight toward the side of the building behind him and away from his personal space.

  The fireball hit the plane of Essence a second later.

  As soon as it struck, the amount of Essence required to hold the shield rocketed upward, draining Sam of a good fifth of the Essence he was holding onto at the moment.

  The ball of fire slid along that plane and eventually shot upward and away from Sam. It left behind a great deal of heat. Enough to give Sam the feeling of having been out in the sun for a bit too long.

  Or as if he’d opened up an oven and was blasted by the heat inside.

  With a boom, the Fireball struck the building. It detonated explosively, sending glass, insulation, wood framing, carpet, and office equipment into the street.

  Holy fuck! I’m out of my league at the moment.

  Normally, Sam would feel confident about dealing with an Elemental of this power. Even if he took on someone like Aster at the height of her Elemental power, before he’d exchanged brands with her, he would have felt relatively confident.

  Right now, however, suffering from iron poisoning, he wasn’t certain of anything. Truth be told, he was feeling decidedly nervous about his odds.

  Before he could contemplate a response to the Fire Elemental, he felt someone approaching him from the side.

  Looking over, Sam spotted what was heading straight toward him. It was a group of Imps, male and female both.

  Dressed in office clothes, they were wielding Essence magic. Forming the spells directly in front of themselves.

  Well.

  Shit.

  Unfolding his wings, Sam leapt off from the ground. Pumping them twice, he started to gain altitude. Knowing what was about to head his way, he angled his flight path instead of continuing to climb.

  Using what little height he’d gained, Sam dove back to the street and then pulled up. He was rapidly moving away from the scene and the problem now.

  Then a series of gunshots, followed by extreme pain in his wings, cut that plan short. Like a bird shot out of the sky, Sam felt one of his wings fold up and collapse. A second later, he slammed into the back of a car, bounced over the top of it, and hit the road.

  After skidding across the blacktop for several seconds, Sam eventually came to a stop. Lying there in a heap, he didn’t move or twitch.

  For the moment, he honestly couldn’t.

  At some point during the fall, he’d knocked his head into something, and right now the world was swimming past him. Nothing felt entirely solid.

  A second later, he no longer had anything to worry about. It was all over.

  Standing above him were a handful of men and women in very tasteful suits.

  “Federal agents! Put your hands up! Now!” shouted one of those in suits. The order was promptly followed by everyone else in their group opening fire.

  Apparently, they weren’t playing around and considered whatever response the Imps or the Elemental gave as aggressive. They emptied the magazines on their pistols.

  Collectively, they ejected the spent ones and reloaded, all the while taking cover in the street around Sam. Quite a few of them came back up to start firing again.

  I’m… saved by the Fed. But is being saved by them going to get me jail time? We’ve kept ourselves as far from them as possible. Most of our work is all offshore when it comes to the PMC.

  But security and the job finding stuff for contracts? That’s all stateside.

  Damn. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.

  Pretty sure I have all my paperwork in order. I just don’t have it on me.

  Letting out a slow sigh, Sam watched as the Fed agents continued to battle with the Imps and the Elemental. Spells were flung from one side while the Feds returned gunfire, spells, and even Para abilities.

  A moment later, a young woman got down on one knee right above Sam. She had soft-blue eyes, short blond hair, and a very pretty face.

  A cool hand brushed against his throat as several fingers pressed down against his skin. It felt like she was trying to take his pulse.

  Then she stared into his eyes and gave him an odd smile.

  “Well, you’re a bit of a bag of broken bits, aren’t you,” she muttered a second before healing magic flooded into him. Magic that had been granted to a priestess and given the power to heal someone. Sam wasn’t familiar with the deity behind it. It felt new and unknown to him. “Nothing I can’t handle though.”

  Unable to do much of anything else other than lay there, Sam let it happen. There was nothing he could do anyway and fighting against this would just cause him problems.

  After all, the Fed were just doing their job. They showed up to the scene of a building blowing up, followed by gunfire, and then Para abilities.

  Instead, Sam closed his eyes and focused on assisting the priestess to heal him.

  “Iron poisoning,” he said after a second, realizing that she likely may not know what he was.

  “Oh? Alright. Thanks for letting me know,” said the woman, her eyes scanning the area around them. The battle had died down and was little more than people shouting now.

  In the next instant, Sam felt the healing power shift dynamically into something else. Instantly, he felt better. The iron poisoning was pulled out of him as if he’d been little better than a toilet that had just been flushed.

  “Ahhh, there we are. Just as you said, iron poisoning,” said the priestess and looked back at him. She gave him a wide smile again. “Normally at this point, I’d ask you what type of Fae you are, but you hav
en’t been properly read your rights.”

  Ah, yes. A very good point.

  I really shouldn’t say much until they read me my rights. Then it’s a question of how much do I tell them, or do I just ask for a lawyer?

  I’m not sure they have much on me, and I can claim self-defense.

  Then again… how do I explain the bomb in the building and diving out the window? Irma runs everything aboveboard.

  Nothing we do is actually illegal.

  Well, outside of me using some glamours and making people do what I want. That’s most certainly illegal.

  PMCs, security, and finding people work though? That’s all fine and dandy.

  Well… we’ll just have to see how it plays out.

  Sam could only smile back at the priestess as he finalized his thoughts. He decided to at least be honest about what he was.

  They’d find out quickly enough anyway.

  “Incubus. Readily volunteered information,” said Sam smoothly. Then he decided to lean into what people thought of an Incubus as well. “And might I say, priestess, you’re an awfully attractive woman.

  “Could I take you to dinner tonight? I’d love to get to know you better. Unless your deity demands celibacy. At which point, I’d see if I couldn’t get you to break your vows anyway.”

  The priestess’ smile grew even wider at his words. Her pupils slowly expanded as she stared down at him.

  “My deity? Oh… well, they won’t be a problem. Don’t you worry about that,” she said in a husky murmur. “Before we get too wound up, or caught up, let’s focus on first things first, Mr. Incubus. You stay right where you are until we can formally begin asking you questions.

  “Because honestly, there’s no way we’re not going to hold you for questioning regardless of anything else. So… I would doubt very much you’ll have any dinner plans this evening at all. If not for the next several days, in fact.”

  Five - Cooling Off -

  Sam quietly sat in the back seat of the black Fed sedan. They were driving him to the local Fed building after making sure he was stable.

  The man behind the wheel wasn’t saying much, nor was the other one in the passenger’s seat. From what they did say, it was technical things involving what they were doing.

  Like getting permission to bring Sam into an internal unloading bay specifically for situations like these.

  Frowning, Sam glanced out the window and spotted the building where they were heading. It was a moderately large building when compared to everything else around it. Though it looked like nothing out of the ordinary to those who couldn’t see magic.

  Sam could see that surrounding the structure was a massive shimmering and shifting shield of magical protections. One that was hardwired into the location and could halt just about anything he could imagine.

  My goodness. They’ve certainly stepped up their security as of late. I had no idea they’d taken it so far.

  Before he’d realized it, they pulled into a garage area. A number of Fed agents in suits were present, as well. There were even several with SMGs in their hands.

  “Well. I didn’t realize I was such a concerning person,” Sam muttered, looking at the agents with weapons in hand. It was odd to him that they would have people on hand like that considering that they hadn’t even cuffed him. “As a victim of an attack, and since I’ve offered no resistance, that’s surprising.”

  “You’re right and wrong,” said the passenger. “It isn’t for you. And thank you for offering no resistance. It’s appreciated.”

  Oh? Not for me?

  Hmm.

  Maybe they were able to subdue that Fire Elemental after all.

  Or it’s completely unrelated to me. Suppose we’ll never find out. There’s no way they’d let me remain here in the bay as they pulled up.

  Sure enough, almost as soon as the sedan was stopped, someone opened the door for Sam. He was asked to step out, was hustled inside, and taken to a small room with a table, two chairs, a window, a mirrored wall, and a camera.

  “Just have a seat, if you don’t mind,” said the man who’d been driving. He indicated the seat closer to the door and beside the window. “We’ll have someone in momentarily to continue this. You okay?”

  Sam was mildly surprised. They seemed to be going out of their way to make him comfortable.

  “I am, thank you,” Sam said and moved to take the seat. “Though my clothes have seen better days. I suppose I won’t be able to change any time soon, though, will I?”

  Sam adjusted his jacket and then sighed, looking at the agent.

  The man grinned at him and shook his head slightly.

  “Don’t know. Not my call. But if everything is like I think it is, you’ll be out of here in as short as a few hours. Worst case, seventy-two hours. That’s all,” replied the agent, and then shut the door as he left.

  With a nod of his head, that was actually what Sam had been expecting. That was more or less what one could assume would happen if the Fed took you in for an interview.

  Especially someone of my caliber and considering the amount of firepower that was thrown at me. There’s no way I can say it was a simple misunderstanding.

  One doesn’t lay out such an elaborate assassination scheme for a nobody.

  A slow breath escaped him as he looked unhurriedly around the room. It was obvious that it was used for interrogations.

  Or interviews, depending on your viewpoint.

  Sam imagined there were already several people behind the mirrored glass, watching him. When he tried to reach out with his Essence to determine if there were, he found he couldn’t actually push out beyond the walls of the room.

  The entirety of the walls were shielded. Both inside and outside. No one would be able to see or hear what happened in here through magical means.

  That leaves the camera, which is likely set up to be viewed from the other side of that mirrored glass. If I don’t miss my guess, that room is likely shielded, as well.

  Hm. Well. The Fed know their business at least.

  A sharp, loud click preceded the door opening as the latch came out of its recess. Standing in the doorway was a young woman.

  One who looked young enough to have barely graduated high school, let alone college.

  She had short, curly brown hair and steel-gray eyes. She was dressed in the standard Fed suit. She was an incredibly beautiful woman who was also clearly not Human.

  From the way she presented herself and her build, he imagined she could easily hold her own against most of the Paras of the world.

  Ah! She’s a Siren. Or something akin to that.

  At least, I think so.

  That means she’s likely twenty-six or something. With looks like that, the world is certainly better off with her slower than normal aging.

  “Hello, I’m Agent Dresch,” said the woman with a smile. “Can I get you any sort of refreshment? Water? A snack?”

  Sam chuckled at that. He contemplated making a comment about her getting up on the table, but that seemed rude. She was only being courteous to him and clearly didn’t know what he was.

  That didn’t mean he couldn’t ask for something, he just had to steer the conversation away from the Siren.

  “There was a priestess who healed me after I was wounded,” said Sam with a wide smile. “If you could ask her to join me for five minutes, that’d be wonderful.

  “Not to mention she seemed amenable to it, so it isn’t as if she wouldn’t be willing. I didn’t even flirt with her that much, which was rather nice.”

  The Siren blinked several times as her cheeks blushed. Then she suddenly nodded her head.

  “Ah, you’re an Incubus. My apologies, I didn’t realize,” said Agent Dresch. Then she smiled at him and shook her head. “And that was Ezzie. She’s still on duty but I’ll relay your message to her.

  “Unfortunately, even if she was willing, we couldn’t let you feed on her at this time. Simply put, it wouldn’t be acceptable. Though I’l
l see what I can do about it in the meantime.

  “Was that all you needed?”

  “Indeed. Thank you,” Sam said while still smiling. Her response had been amusing and yet still courteous.

  The Siren stepped away from the doorway and a single man entered. He had brown hair, brown eyes, rather fashionable eyeglasses, a beard, and an average build. To Sam’s eye, he seemed somewhat of a mismatch for a Fed agent.

  That didn’t mean much Sam had to admit, however. It was precisely people like this that tended to get the best results because they ran against your expectations.

  “Hello, my name is Caleb Jamison. You can call me Caleb,” said the man with a warm smile. Clearly, the man was an agent with the Fed but he was definitely putting on a positive image and spin for Sam.

  Sitting down in the seat across from Sam, he set his pad of paper and pen to the side. Then he leaned back in his chair and sighed with a tired smile.

  “Sam, huh? Is that a shortened version or is it just Sam?” asked Caleb.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve already looked me up in the system,” Sam said. He knew for a fact that they’d already checked him. They had, after all, taken his driver’s license. “You have no idea how many times I had to spell it for that poor lady at the DMV.”

  “I mean… just looking at it, it’s kinda hard to pronounce,” said Caleb with a chuckle. “Even if you say it aloud, I can’t imagine spelling it would be easy.”

  “Alas, but it’s true. Sameerixis Fidenis for the mortal world,” confirmed Sam, stating his legal name.

  “I won’t bother asking for your real name because that’d just be rude,” Caleb said and waved a hand in a negligent way. “Not sure about age, though. Is that rude for an Incubus?”

  “It can be, depending on the person,” admitted Sam with a shrug of his shoulders. He didn’t volunteer any information beyond that. There was no reason for him to do anything other than answer directly.

  The more information he provided, the more likely it was they’d discover something. Figure something out.

  Or trap him with his own words.

  On the drive over here, he’d been contemplating how to answer questions he knew they’d ask. Like how did he get here and why?