Incubus Inc. 3

by Randi Darren

  Yawning open, the portal was full size now. On the other side, was home. Along with a portal to his personal plane.

  “Bastard,” Sam muttered as he panted heavily. It’d cost quite a bit of Essence from his reserves on the prime, but he didn’t care. He had his way home now. “Cheat me? Fuck you.”

  Belatedly, Sam realized there was a whirlwind of power that crackled and sizzled around the portal. Sending out small little bolts of lightning in multiple directions.

  Uh. That’s—

  “You’ve… torn the fabric completely,” said Nicodimus’ voice from nowhere. “It’s completely ripped free. You… you’ve done what even Skipper and her master refused to do.

  “You’ve doomed us all. Doomed us. All for your selfish nature. Because you couldn’t even wait six months for it to heal.”

  “What is this!?” shrieked a second voice that Sam recognized as well. It was Skipper. “The planes are failing!? What’ve you done!?”

  I… no. No! I didn’t do this.

  “This was Nic—”

  “Sam!? You did this? Are you trying to end us all? The planes are failing! Why do you think we stopped the portals to Hell!?” screamed Skipper. “I can’t stop them! I can’t—I can’t stop it. They’re all failing!”

  “Damn you, Sameerixis! You’re the harbinger of the end times, aren’t you!?” shouted Nicodimus. “I can’t stop it either. Everything is failing. Planes are collapsing on themselves faster and faster. This is the end.”

  “You-you were supposed to open a portal for me to go home!” Sam yelled, defending himself.

  “I said I needed six months!” yelled back Nicodimus. “Six months was all it would take! And now you’ve doomed everyone because you couldn’t wait!”

  Suddenly, Sam felt something very strange. Strange and terrifying to him.

  Aster’s plane—which was rather new considering she’d only constructed it after her escape—folded on itself. It ceased to exist. Anyone and anything that was on it, no longer existed.

  Snuffed out in an instant.

  “Gods curse and damn you, Sameerixis!” screamed Skipper.

  Sam could feel Skipper and Nicodimus both frantically working at something beyond his ability to truly sense. They were scrambling to try and fix what Sam had done.

  Sam felt Jes’ plane collapse without a disturbance, becoming nothing at all. Taking everything on the plane with it into nothing.

  “I think I’ve stabilized the prime. Sealed it off from breaches and most of the other hard-set planes as well. But… but it isn’t enough, is it? It’s not enough,” Nicodimus said in a wheeze. He sounded as if he were beyond spent. “Too much was lost. Far too much. I can’t fix any of it.”

  “I’ve spent everything that we can spare to keep a majority of the minor planes. Most won’t suffer tears but… I can’t guarantee it,” Skipper replied. “We lost thousands of planes, though. Thousands and thousands. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to catalogue all the lost souls. So many were lost.”

  Lost… souls?

  Skipper didn’t open a portal for Balahtus because…because she couldn’t. If she had, this would have happened. She was trying to keep the planar fabric of the world intact?

  And I tore it open.

  I did this.

  “Can I do anything or hel—”

  “Go kill yourself,” Skipper said in a scathing tone. “You’ve already helped enough. What you’ve done… what you’ve done can never be fixed. It cannot be undone. We might as well just end this world and move on to the next at this point.”

  “The fabric is rent… there will be tears… tears in more planes than I ever want to consider. Unendingly,” lamented Nicodimus, seemingly uninterested in either Skipper or Sam at the moment. “I’ve failed in my task. It’s all over. There’s nothing left to do.”

  Sam was shaking his head now. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  There was an ugly hollow in his stomach and his mouth was dry. A cold sweat clung to his skin at the same time.

  “Just go kill yourself,” Skipper muttered a second time, then said no more.

  “Of the millions of lives you condemned,” whispered Nicodimus. “I could only save three. And there’s no point to them living anyway. This whole world will collapse at this rate. Even the prime will fail eventually.

  “Congratulations, Sam. You got what you wanted. Congratulations. You can go home.”

  There were several soft thumps near Sam’s feet that caused him to look down.

  “You might as well kill them yourself since you already sentenced them to death. I’m going to go wait for the end elsewhere. Might as well let Skipper have the Hub if only to end this all the quicker. I hope you rot in this grave you’ve made for us, Sameerixis,” cursed Nicodimus.

  Three infants were resting on the grass around Sam’s feet. All three were blearily looking around and seemed to be very unsure of what was going on.

  I… did what?

  Unable to collect his thoughts, Sam stood there. Trying to process everything that’d just happened.

  Off to his left, a sudden tear in reality opened up to the size of a Buick, passed through a soldier, then rapidly shrunk in on itself. Only the bottom half of the soldier remained behind.

  A second tear ripped itself open and swallowed up a chunk of a wall, then vanished as quickly as it’d appeared.

  No more tears appeared, but Sam got the feeling that there was always the possibility of more. That they were occurring everywhere across the expanse of the universe.

  What have I done?

  “Sam?”

  Looking up to the speaker, Sam saw Irma standing in the portal to his home plane.

  “What… just happened?” she asked. It was obvious she’d been there to hear Skipper and Nicodimus speak. He wasn’t really sure what to say to her at the moment.

  Clearing his throat, Sam looked down to the ground in absolute shame. It’d be an ugly tale to recount now. Filled with death, despair, and his final action.

  A tale worthy of Hell.

  ***

  Standing in the portal entry room of his own plane, Sam felt at home. Regardless of anything else, he’d gotten his genie’s wish. His Devil’s bargain.

  “Wren, you… look very different,” Irma said from where she stood beside Wren. She was looking up at the other woman.

  “Yes. I’m apparently not a Cambion,” Wren said with a smirk. “Though my appearance changed, and I’m a little stronger and faster, I’m still… I’m still me. Nothing really changed otherwise. I just fight and look better, now.”

  “Mm. Well, as long as you’re okay,” Irma said, and then turned to look at the others next to her.

  Her eyes landed on Abrah, then Aster, and slowly slid over to Erv and Yala.

  “Hello, Irma,” Erv said, waving a hand at Irma. “I’m Erv. I’m a Water Elemental. I was a double for Jenaphila until Sam freed me.”

  Irma blinked several times then looked at Yala.

  “City Lord Yala,” explained the beautiful Demon with a wave of her fingers.

  “Hmph. I see,” murmured Irma and then turned back to Sam. She looked frustrated but not surprised. “Now, to the actual problem at hand.

  “It sounds like… you… broke the planes. Or that’s what those two who were yelling at you said. Could you explain it, please?”

  Sam opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and hesitated.

  Aster, Erv, Abrah, Yala, and Wren were all staring at him. They hadn’t heard anything about what happened, but they had been gathered up for this meeting.

  “Nicodimus didn’t honor his side of the bargain,” said Sam defensively, then sighed and looked to the side. “Or I felt he hadn’t. He opened a tiny portal home for me and told me it’d be six months before it would be fully formed.”

  “And Nicodimus is?” prompted Irma, giving him an odd smile.

  “Ah, uh, he’s basically the gatekeeper for the planes. The Void. The places in-between,�
� Sam explained. “He made me a deal. If I eliminated Skipper’s sigil diagram, he’d open a portal.”

  “And Skipper is… Jenaphila,” Irma said, then pointed at Erv. “Except she was a body double of Jenaphila. She was the one torturing Aster and the others?”

  “Different body double,” Aster corrected, waving her hand back and forth.

  Irma nodded her head, then shook it.

  “Alright, I suddenly have the impression that none of this really matters. You’re home, despite there being some clear issues involving planes and… and other things,” Irma said, cutting right through everything. Apparently, she’d come to some course of action she wanted to take. “What do I need to know, and what are your plans? You look like you have something itching at your mind.”

  Sam felt all of his various thoughts and concerns narrowing into a razor-honed point. Irma was right, he did have something he wanted to do. Something he needed to take care of.

  Skipper was trying to build power everywhere. To gather it and send it elsewhere.

  That was something he could most definitely fight against. His goal at this point was really only to play spoiler. To ruin anything and everything that Skipper was doing and going about.

  “Skipper is looking for something called the Hub,” Sam said, jumping straight to the deep end. “I want to find it before she does. Apparently, that’s something she’s been looking for since she left Hell and joined her master.

  “That means I need to get in touch with Miles, probably. Figure out what this Hub is and what it does. What he knows and how I can get to it before she does. It might be something like the Log. In fact, given how Skipper is looking for it, I bet it is.

  “I’ll need to reach out to Eugenia and get a look at the Log. Reixhitz is letting her borrow it for the time being since he doesn’t need it right now.

  “Need to talk her into letting me use one of her answers from the Log. I’m sure we can get an idea of how to go about this between the Log and Miles. Or so I hope.”

  Nodding his head, Sam felt a lot better about the direction he’s suddenly given himself and everyone else. He felt a lot better, in fact.

  While he couldn’t correct what he’d already done, he could keep going and try to do better. He could do his best to fix the planes and whatever damage he’d done.

  Can talk to Miles about that, as well. He might have some insight into Nicodimus. I get the impression that maybe Eugenia and Miles could have information on him.

  “Okay. Sounds like you have a goal. But none of that is anything I can really help with. This all sounds like something beyond a normal situation,” Irma said, then let out a deep, heavy sigh. Her eyes slowly drifted over to Abrah, Yala, and Erv. The three of them were holding the three babies that Nicodimus had dumped out into Hell. It looked like she wanted to say something, but she hesitated. “Everyone is out in the Middle East right now. There’s a growing conflict out there involving Elves.

  “We’re getting involved as a PMC for some security contract work. Nothing front line, but more secondary and defensive roles. Things we can handle and prepare for. We did some sub-contracting work for patrols but we didn’t use anyone we actually care about for that.

  “Beyond that, I also have some news for you. I don’t like being the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think I could leave it up to Irene to tell you.”

  What?

  Feeling his face shift to a confused frown, Sam waited, staring at Irma.

  “Abigail gave birth to a son, Alex,” explained Irma with a sad smile. “Irene gave birth to a girl, Sandra. Alex is perfectly fine but… but unfortunately Sandra didn’t— she didn’t make it. She wasn’t well. There was apparently a defect in her heart. That’s what the doctor said afterward. I’m… sorry.”

  Taking in a slow breath, Sam wasn’t really sure how to respond. Of everything he expected to happen with having children, them not even making it past the day of their birth, hadn’t been one.

  Twenty-Seven - Loss and Lost -

  Knocking gently on the door to Irene’s apartment, Sam didn’t know how to proceed. He was still processing the fact that his daughter—whom he had never had the chance to see—wasn’t just already gone, but cremated. He would never even be able to look upon her in passing.

  The duo-soul of Irene and Caer poked their heads through the door. Both of them looked very worn and distraught.

  “Oh, hello,” murmured Caer.

  “Hello, dear,” Irene said.

  “We’ll be up in a moment to get the door,” they said glumly in unison.

  “Someone told you?” Caer asked sullenly.

  Sam nodded his head.

  “We… never even got to hold her,” Irene whimpered. “They took her and ran off.”

  Caer turned her head away, then Irene did. The soul vanished back into the apartment. That conversation had been the extent of what they could handle.

  Seeing me probably won’t help her at all. Will it?

  Grimacing, Sam stood there, waiting.

  Eventually, the door opened.

  Standing on the other side was Irene. She was dressed in an odd-looking shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

  Before he could say a word, Irene crossed the distance between them and hugged Sam tightly. Clutching him as a drowning person would hold on to a life preserver.

  Then the sobbing started.

  Unable to do much in the hall, Sam began to crabwalk Irene back into her apartment. Getting the door closed, he took her into the bedroom and flopped down onto the bed with her. All the while the Witch-Lich sobbed against him. Her fingers clung to his clothes as tightly as possible.

  Slowly, over time, the wailing and hiccupping sobs died away into soft crying. To a point that Irene was finally able to speak to a degree.

  Sam didn’t like what he was about to ask, but he felt like it was a question that would uncork a dam in Irene. One that needed to exist for a time, but not forever.

  “Will you tell me what our daughter looked like?” Sam asked quietly.

  Irene choked on a breath, then nodded her head against him.

  “She was so cute,” Irene mumbled, her voice sounding incredibly strained. “She had light-brown eyes and long lashes. With little dark wisps of hair that were black. I… I was able to touch her… but then they rushed her off to surgery. To try and fix her heart. She just wasn’t strong enough.

  “Our daughter didn’t… she couldn’t— Sandra isn’t here, Sam.”

  Letting out a low moan, Irene pressed her face hard against Sam’s shoulder again. In response, Sam just wrapped his arms around her and held onto her.

  In the corner of the room, the duo-soul sat in the corner. Its knees were pulled up to its chins and both heads gazed off into nothing.

  Time passed slowly with Sam just holding Irene. He didn’t have anything to do today and he was content to spend the time with her. Irma would be arranging a meeting with Eugenia and Miles for him.

  Eventually, Irene winded down again. However, this time there was a lot less tension in her. It was as if she’d finally released a great deal of it.

  Her fingers were no longer clutching at him, but were slowly moving back and forth across his shoulders.

  “I like holding Alex,” murmured Irene suddenly. “Holding him and feeding him. Abby lets me… lets me feed him sometimes when she’s busy.

  “Sandra isn’t here anymore, but my milk won’t stop. I pump it and store it for Abby to give to Alex when she doesn’t have time to feed him directly. Might as well make the best of it, right?”

  For some reason, that didn’t quite seem like the right approach to Sam. In his head, the idea of continuing to pump breast milk would only make the depression and feelings of loss last longer.

  In the other room, Irene’s phone line began ringing.

  “Huh?” asked Irene, lifting her head to peer out the bedroom door and beyond. Frowning, she seemed to be considering getting up for several seconds. Then she laid her head back down.


  Sam certainly didn’t care to answer the line. He had nothing going on for a while yet and was perfectly happy to comfort Irene.

  Several minutes passed before Sam heard a knock at the door.

  Irene and Caer lifted up from the corner and lazily floated through the walls to the front door.

  They came back fairly quickly with almost unseeing eyes. They looked worn out in the worst way.

  “Well?” Irene asked, looking at her souls.

  The two shook their heads, saying nothing. They looked almost bored, if anything.

  “Who is it?” Irene asked with a dangerous frown for the pair of souls.

  “Irma,” Caer said finally, while the Irene soul only shook its head again. Not wanting to say anything at all, it seemed.

  “Oh, it’s for me, I guess,” Sam said and then sighed. Kissing Irene’s brow, he got up slowly. Moving towards the entrance, Sam felt bad. “Sorry, dear.”

  “It’s alright. I… I didn’t even ask how you are or where you were. Or how anything went in Hell,” Irene said, also getting out of the bed. She brushed her hands against her chest and then harrumphed.

  Looking at Irene, he saw that she had two wet spots on the front of her shirt. Apparently, she’d started to leak at some point.

  “Whatever,” Irene said dismissively and followed Sam. She sounded exhausted to him. “Irma won’t care. She understands.”

  Getting to the door, Sam opened it.

  Irma stood in the hallway and waved her hands expressively down the hall. As if to ward off someone from coming closer.

  Following Irma’s gaze, Sam saw Erv, Yala, and Abrah all heading this way. Each of them was holding one of the three babies.

  Fuck. That’s possibly the worst situation I’ve ever thought of.

  Turning around, Sam found Irene right there.

  “Hey, I’ll just talk to Irma and be right back,” Sam said, giving her a smile. “You just go relax. Maybe we can have lunch after this?”

  Irene looked like she was going to disagree with him, then slowly nodded her head.

  At which point, one of the babies let out a low cry.