Incubus Inc

by Randi Darren

  “I would hope so, given our natures,” Sam said with a grin, and he tapped a finger against the soul core in his lap. The soul spasmed but didn’t fight him. “And I have your soul right here in my lap. I might borrow it for a time. She seems very pliant and willing to me right now.”

  Irene quivered at the single touch, her pupils slowly dilating.

  “I believe I need my soul… don’t I?” Irene said, blinking several times. “And can you untie me now? This bathtub is really cold. I’d also really like to wash my mouth out. All I taste is vomit.”

  “Yeah, you threw up on me,” Sam said. “As for your soul. You do indeed need it, but it isn’t actually connected to you. It seems as if it can go a little away from you. Like I said, I’ll just borrow her for a little. She doesn’t mind, do you?”

  The soul shook its head, then lifted a hand and pointed at its core with a finger.

  “Oh, it even knows what it wants,” Sam said, then ran a finger all along its core.

  Irene moaned hard, her thighs coming together with a soft pat and her shoulders flexing.

  “St-stop that,” she said in a gasp after a few seconds. “Stop doing that.”

  “Your soul seems to disagree with you,” Sam said as the soul continued to point to its back. Repeatedly. It had even lifted its head up to look at him pleadingly as it did so. “Now, the council. Tell me about them.”

  Irene clicked her tongue and looked at Jes. “Please? The ties? As for the council, they run everything and everyone. I report directly to them for my part of the operation. I know there are others here and there, but I’ve never met them.”

  Jes grabbed Irene by a shoulder and pulled her up from the bottom of the tub. Using a fingernail, she parted the ties with just a touch. “There you go.”

  “Thank you,” Irene said, massaging her wrists with her hands. “They think I can’t read their minds, but I have since the very beginning. They believe their magic protects them. I’ve only ever heard them mention their source as far as what magic it is once. They called it Essence.

  “I admit I’m somewhat new to this paranormal world, but no one I talked to had heard of it either.”

  Giving her his full attention, Sam met her gaze.

  “Essence?” he asked. “Do you know what races these council members are?”

  “Race?” Irene asked, getting her feet under her. She slowly stood up and nearly lost her balance. “They’re human.”

  “Are you sure?” Sam asked. They might look human but be something entirely different. Perhaps maybe Imps?”

  “Never heard it, if that’s what they are,” Irene said. “Are my clothes ruined?”

  “Very,” Sam said. “Don’t worry, we’ll clean out your residence before we head back home.

  “Okay… so the council isn’t normal. We’ll get back to them later. Do you know who they report to?”

  Sam was really hoping Irene would give him a certain name. A certain name that would make this entire ordeal worth it.

  Worth it to the point that he’d consider it a deal for himself and wouldn’t try to talk Alison into sex.

  “I only heard the name once, but yeah,” Irene said, stepping out of the tub while holding Jes’s offered hand. “Jenaphila. That’s who the council reports to.”

  Grinning, Sam began to gently caress the core of Irene’s soul with as delicate a touch as he could.

  Irene’s thighs slowly closed together, and she leaned into Jes as if she might tip over. Within seconds, she began to pant and moan softly, her body shivering ever so lightly.

  “Oh Irene. Irene, you beautiful witch. I’m going to make you moan for days for that single piece of information. You’ll be the single most sexually satisfied woman on the planet, even if I have to lick you personally till you pass out,” Sam said. “Now, let’s talk more about the council, where they’re hiding things, and what we can rob.”

  Twenty-Three - Heist -

  Sam picked idly at the strap on his body armor with a fingernail. There wasn’t much else to keep him entertained while he waited in the van. Not for the first time, he was quite thankful for the lessons he’d learned during the time he’d been imprisoned. Chief among those was being completely comfortable with nothing to do.

  For very long stretches of time.

  Looking up, he found Irene and Stacia watching him. They were both dressed in a similar fashion to him, though Stacia was toting an SMG and a pistol while Irene only had a pistol.

  “What?” Sam asked, looking from one woman to the other. He felt like he’d perhaps missed something. “Did I miss part of a conversation? If so, I apologize.”

  “No,” Stacia said, then blew out a quick breath with a shake of her head. “Honestly, I was just staring. You’re almost too handsome. It’s hard not to just… look.”

  “Oh? Well, thank you,” Sam said with a smile. “I was thankfully gifted with a rather impressive form. I’m most fortunate even amongst my kind.

  “Jes is incredibly beautiful even for a Succubus, mind you. Probably the single prettiest one I’ve met.”

  “You’re not all… like this?” Irene said, flicking a finger at Sam.

  “No. Nor is this artificial. I mean… sure, I’m hiding my horns, my wings, and my natural skin color, but I am as you see me,” Sam said with a grin.

  Irene’s soul leaned in close to him, staring at his brow.

  “What, you want to see my horns?” Sam asked, looking at Irene’s soul.

  She nodded her head happily, smiling at him.

  “Stop that. Don’t… don’t talk to her. It’s weird,” Irene said.

  “She’s just the truth of you, that’s all,” Sam said, and then he let his horns and wings pop back into reality. “There, see?”

  “You look like a Demon,” Stacia said.

  “Mm… technically, an Incubus could be a Demon. But we’re not part of the pantheon, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” Sam said, dismissing his horns and wings again. “Demons and Angels are really just the same race of spiritual beings. One side won the war, the other lost. That’s really the only dividing line.”

  “I was wondering—”

  Stacia stopped talking as the rear of the van clanked, and then the door opened.

  Hillary gave them a smile and hopped up into the rear of the van.

  She looked incredibly strange.

  Everything but her head looked like that of a man in his thirties. Even her hands.

  “We’re all set,” she said. “I’ve got both guards tied up and dumped them in a closet. Jes is watching the desk while I’m on ‘break’ right now. Tiffany and Wren are already all set in the truck around the corner. Just park behind them. I’ve got all the cameras deactivated for now. I called it in as a forced restart to the security company.”

  “Suppose it’s time for me to play the part of the courier,” Sam said. Then he gave Stacia a slow smile. “Care to sign for my package?”

  The Vampire smiled at him, displaying her bright teeth. Her eyes looked a bit glazed over. “Definitely.”

  Blinking, Stacia gave her head a shake and then gave Sam a glare. “Stop that. Is that even on purpose, or just part of what you are?”

  “Sorry. If you’re a young Incubus, it’s on purpose; if you’re as old as I am, it just is what it is,” Sam said, moving to the front of the van. He got into the driver’s seat and drove them around to the rear of the big office building.

  It only took a minute since they’d just been in an alley off to one side.

  Pulling up behind the big delivery truck, Sam killed the engine and looked back at everyone inside.

  “You good?” he asked.

  Irene nodded slowly, and her soul bobbed her head along much more emphatically.

  “I’ll put our disguises on momentarily,” said the witch. “We’re not supposed to be on the clock for another six minutes. Union rules, you realize.”

  Scoffing at that, Sam opened the door and hopped out, heading for the courier truck in th
e loading bay.

  He moved to the rear door, then got up onto the loading bay and opened up the rolling door. After moving in quickly, he turned around and closed it behind him.

  Laid out in the middle of it were two large wooden crates. One was empty, the other filled with Wren and Tiffany as well as their gear.

  “Hello ladies,” Sam said, getting down near one end of the crate and lifting the lid partially.

  He found Tiffany gazing up at him. Behind her were Wren’s boots.

  “Oh, lucky me, I got a Werewolverine in my crate. I found a little plastic frog at the bottom of my cereal yesterday,” Sam said. “If I press on your rear end, do you flip like the little plastic frog?”

  Tiffany rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Ha-ha. Stupid. Wren will flip if you push on her ass. Won’t you, Wren?”

  Tiffany looked down to the other side of the crate she was in, where Wren probably was.

  “I will and do,” Wren said, a soft chuckle tailing her words.

  “Course you do,” Tiffany said, turning back to Sam. “We ready?”

  “Yeah. Going to take us in now. Going to put the empty crate on top of you, but I wanted to make sure you were good first,” Sam said.

  “We’re good. Other than Wren can’t stop talking about you,” Tiffany said.

  “Do not,” Wren denied.

  “She is. And it’s sickening. Big-leagues hitman with one of the highest kill counts and a near perfect kill percentage. Wringing her hands about her sexual performance with her beloved demon,” Tiffany said with a grin. “Go on, loverboy. I’m already tired of this.”

  “Put your masks on,” Sam said, and then he closed the lid with a chuckle. Reaching up, he touched his face to alter his appearance neatly and easily. After that, he laid a hand on his body armor, and instantly he was wearing a courier uniform that matched the truck.

  He had no doubt that Wren was having a tough time. If anything, Tiffany might have been understating it. Wren’s racial DNA was more than likely still in open rebellion against her for not being pregnant.

  What the Cambion race had been made for would be an indelible mark for a long time.

  “…y’d you have to tell him?” asked the muffled voice of Wren from inside.

  “So he knows you care more than he thinks. You’re the one who said they were in love. He doesn’t know and hasn’t said it. Remember?

  “Now shut up—I doubt he can hear us, but I’d rather not bet on it,” Tiffany said.

  Rolling his eyes, Sam moved over to the second wooden crate and lugged it over to rest on top of the first one.

  Grabbing the metal handle of the pallet mover, Sam pumped it several times like Wren had told him to.

  Smoothly, easily, it lifted the crate off the ground as if it were nothing.

  Grabbing hold of it, Sam began wheeling it to the closed rear door and the docking ramp beyond it. Then he grabbed the handle and flung it upward, sending the rolling door up into its recess.

  A thirty-year-old man in a security uniform was walking through the loading bay. He nodded his head at Sam with a smirk, and his eyes flashed yellow for a second before returning to normal.

  Hillary. So weird that she can be a man.

  Stranger still that it took a twenty-minute argument for her to agree to be one.

  Wonder what that’s about.

  Walking across the ramp and into the building, Sam hauled the mover along.

  He went straight to the freight elevator, where he pulled the big load through and in. He hated being in this, but he had no choice. On top of that, he’d had to push and pull at the mover for a minute just to get it all the way inside.

  Fucking stupidest part of this plan. I hate this.

  Hate this so much.

  The doors dinged and closed themselves when Sam tapped the top-floor button.

  Their plan was simple. Start on the top floor and move down, one floor at a time. Taking and securing the whole thing. That way, by the time they got to the bottom, it would time to leave with everything bagged and ready to go.

  The elevator felt strange to Sam, even as it traveled upwards.

  It wasn’t until he was halfway to the top floor that he realized why. The whole thing was constructed of actual cold iron. On top of that, it had been slowly sapping Sam of strength.

  It was more than enough to lock him down from casting anything beyond the metal box he was in. Thankfully, it wasn’t wicking away Essence from him—he was far too old for that—but it certainly would keep him penned in.

  Jena must be paranoid of me returning. Or others.

  Sam paused his thoughts and nodded once.

  Well… she should be. I’m going to pull her soul out and feed it to Wren.

  Wait, do Cambions still get strength from soul sacrifice? Suppose we’ll find out.

  I’ll plow Wren into a bed while feeding her bits and pieces of Jena’s soul.

  Oh, I could even put a child in Wren while doing it. That’d really screw with Jena as her soul becomes nothing.

  With a ding, the doors opened up into what looked like a maintenance office. It was full of shelves with cleaning supplies, boxes of paper, toner, and even some broken keyboards.

  The suddenness shook Sam from his dark thoughts.

  In the corner, a camera was aimed right at the elevator doors.

  The light was off, and it would remain off until they cleared the floor. As each floor was cleared, the cameras would turn back on one by one. Until they hit the ground floor and were gone.

  Pulling the mover out of the elevator, Sam pushed the door open and found himself in a type of lobby area.

  Sitting behind a desk was a woman in a dark blouse, busily typing away at a keyboard.

  “Hello,” Sam said, smiling at her as he pulled the crates out. “Got a couple massive items here for you. Security said to bring it up to you.

  “The heck did you order, brand new printers from Europe or somethin’?”

  “I… what?” asked the woman behind the desk, standing up. She looked at the two big crates Sam was wheeling in. “We… no. We didn’t order anything. At least, not that I know of. What’s the packing slip say?”

  “Ah, right. Here, let me just wheel this over and I can get it for you. It’s on the other crate,” Sam said.

  He pulled the mover to the front of the desk, then pulled the handle triggers to let the mover come to a full stop and drop to the ground.

  Reaching over, Sam pulled the top crate down and set it to one side. Then he reached into his pocket and came over to the woman with a smile.

  The moment she lifted her eyes to him, he snared her and lashed her mind to his will.

  “First, are you human?” Sam asked.

  “I’m an Imp,” said the woman, gazing into Sam’s eyes.

  “Great. Mission is a go,” Sam said without looking away from the woman. “Is there anyone in this building other than security that’s human? Or is the whole thing full of Imps?”

  “All Imps,” said the woman in a dull tone.

  “That’ll make this easier,” Sam said. Behind him, he could hear Tiffany and Wren clambering out of the crate. “Is there a silent alarm or a security switch on this floor? And are there any security officers?”

  “Security is on floor six. The switch is under the desk,” said the woman.

  So there really is a separate security team that doesn’t mesh with the building security. We’ll have to hit that floor with the whole team.

  The fear of a second security team was why they’d not used radios. Just in case someone was scanning for anything out of the ordinary. It was also why they were playing everything so cautiously.

  “Deactivate the switch for me,” Sam said.

  “I can’t—it doesn’t deactivate,” said the woman.

  “Okay, then guard it with your life. Make sure no one touches it. Are there any others on this floor?” Sam asked.

  “Guard it with my life. No other securi
ty switches,” the woman said.

  “Last but not least, do you know who you’re working for?” Sam asked.

  “Jenaphila, the mistress of all,” said the woman.

  Sam snorted at that, then reached across the desk and laid a hand on the woman’s brow.

  In short order, he had scrambled her memories and put a block on her from remembering anything going forward. She’d wake up from the glamour in several hours.

  Wake up and have no memory of any of this. Thinking she’d just been sitting in her desk all evening.

  Sighing, Sam let go of the woman and turned to Tiffany and Wren.

  They were putting together a cart on wheels. It would be used to transport everything to the crate rather than lugging the crate around.

  “Ready?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah. Fucking thing squeaks,” Tiffany muttered, kicking one of the wheels. “Like a goddamn shopping cart.”

  Turning to Wren, Sam waited.

  “Ready, boss,” the big hitman said, pulling the SMG she’d brought with her around to her front. The battle rifle had been ruled as possibly a bit too big for indoor use.

  Not to mention the SMG apparently had a much better silencer and simply was quieter on its own.

  Sam didn’t know nor care. He wasn’t a firearm kind of person. He’d disdained them long ago when a flint-lock had exploded in his hand.

  Taking the hand with it.

  Leaning over the desk, Sam pushed the woman back into her seat, then grabbed a clipboard from her desk along with a guest security badge. He also picked up a pen and grabbed the stack of outgoing mail.

  Walking out of the lobby as if he were meant to be there, Sam immediately figured out the layout of this floor was rather simple. Especially since a placard at the front listed out who was in what office.

  “Okay, we move office by office,” he said, reading the names slowly. “I go in first and glamour them, you move in after.”

  “Good,” Wren said. “Codeword for you to use is ‘cash on delivery’ if you hit someone you can’t bring down.”

  Sam wanted to fight against that idea, but then he looked at Tiffany. She’d resisted every attempt he’d hit her with—the first time it’d ever happened in his long life.