Haunted By The Succubus

by Michelle Dorey

  “So, they accepted you in the academy, kid?” Mike steps back and motions for us to follow him into his office.

  I snicker at his back but shoot a look at Hilda to let her know I’m teasing. “Yeah. Figured if they’d take you, then I’d be a shoo-in.”

  “Just shows how low their standards are getting, I guess.” But Mike’s grinning, enjoying giving me the gears too.

  “You two! Cut it out!” Hilda takes a spot next to Mike and pats his arm. Her head tilts to the side when she fixes her gaze on me. “I’m glad things worked out for you Adam, although I miss you at Rabbit Express.”

  Mike rolls his eyes. “Yeah, she’s even got me doing a few deliveries to cover her dumbass nephew.”

  I don’t have to ask about Philip. Mike’s summed it up nicely. Once a dumbass, always a dumbass.

  “So you two... you’re an item now?” I know the answer, but I want to see Mike’s response.

  He puts his arm around Hilda’s shoulder. “She even made me reach out to my daughter Amanda. Did you know I’m a granddaddy? I’m too young for that, but still, Molly’s the cutest and smartest girl in the world! Not that I’m partial or anything.”

  Hilda looks up at him, and it’s plain to see how crazy she is for the guy. “I’m not arguing the point. She’s a doll! And have you noticed that Mike’s lost weight?”

  I hadn’t, and I’m not sure he actually has but his cheeks aren’t so fleshy, and they’re not that ruddy color either. “Oh yeah?”

  She laughs and gives him a poke in the ribs. “I think The Slip misses seeing Mike parked on a bar stool every night. He’s discovered live theatre and long walks in the park are more fun.”

  He smiles down at her. “Because you drag me there.”

  Chauncy comes over nuzzling my hand again, “So no one ever came to claim this mutt?”

  Mike’s chest puffs out like a banty rooster. “Chauncy is no mutt, Adam! He may be homely as hell but he’s got breeding! People actually call me for his stud services! I may be able to retire soon thanks to old Chaunce.” He looks over at me and he’s serious for once. “So, you and that girl still seeing one another?”

  Hilda’s eyes have lit up too, watching me closely. Who doesn’t love a romance?

  “I’m seeing Leah later today. Actually I’m spending a few days in Saranac to meet her family and friends, as well as catch up with Margrit. She’ll be going to Syracuse U which isn’t that far from where I’ll be studying.”

  His eyebrows rise high. “Sounds serious.”

  “You have no idea, Mike.” But it’s not something I’m going to get into right then. Maybe down the road. “Let’s have lunch. I want to show you my new car.”

  An hour later I’m back on the road, going down a highway that took me to the demon’s destination. Little did it know that it would mean the end of its evil plan as well. Seeing the landscape transform becoming filled with mountains, their tops in a bluish haze in the distance is a far cry from the bus ride that horror-filled night.

  I’ll always carry the guilt and horror of what it did in Watertown to those women and Doug, but for now, I only want to leave it behind me.

  Leah is before me.

  A new life, where my psychic abilities are no longer something that I have to hide, nor something to show like a trick monkey’s antics.

  This is me. And I’m proud of who I am.

  Finally.

  The END

  A Note From The Author

  Poor Adam. Every time he thought he had the world by the tail, he got bitten anyway! I enjoyed working with him, and was happy to see that it worked out…so far... for him.

  I hope you enjoyed spending time with Adam, Leah, Margrit and Jake. They really grew on me in the writing of this book!

  If this is your first exposure to my work, many of these characters thread through other works of mine, ‘The Haunted Ones’. Each of them is a stand alone novel, yes; there are no cliffhangers or continued tales. Having said that, it’s nice to visit with them.

  This series began with ‘The Haunted Hideout’.

  The FBI safe house is haunted?

  Click here to get your copy of The Haunted Hideout now!

  Two orphaned sisters. A spirit without a grave. Can two orphans solve a murder before death claims another victim?

  Click here to get your copy of A Grave Conjuring now!

  Coming November 12, 2018 The Haunted Gathering

  Three women, friends since college gather to honor the memory of Dara who died suddenly. When they come together, an evil is unleashed.

  Click here to get your copy!

  Please continue for my special gift to you: LEGACY: The Mystical Viel

  Special Bonus Book: Legacy: The Mystical Veil Book 1

  This novel is currently selling on Amazon, and has a 4.7 star rating! It’s a wonderful book that can be a stand alone, even though it is the first of a four book series.

  Here’s a description of this tale:

  She thought ghosting meant blocking someone on Twitter

  Trust fund princess Keira’s life is about to implode. She’s just been kicked out of school—again. Mom and even Daddy have had it with her and have not only cancelled the lease on her absolutely adorable Greenwich Village pied a terre, they’re kicking her out of her home!

  Whaaaat?

  “No, Keira—you need to grow up and start doing something with your life. We’re at our wits end. You have to go live with your grandmother Pamela.”

  “I don’t have a grandma named Pamela.”

  “Yes, yes you do.”

  “Whaaat?”

  And so… banished, banished to Canada of all places, Keira has to meet a grandmother she never knew existed. Who is…batshit crazy. Seriously.

  The old biddy thinks she sees ghosts.

  Seriously.

  She wants Keira to call her ‘Nana’.

  As. If.

  She’ll call her ‘GM’, but that’s it. After all, the old woman couldn’t be bothered to visit in all of her 23 years, and now she expects to be called ‘Nana’. No way, Jose. No damn way. And she’s as bossy as the General Manager of a store Keira worked at, so the best ‘Grand Mother’ will get is ‘GM’. She can take it or leave it—which is more choice than Keira’s had!

  Eerie things start to happen to Keira almost as soon as she goes through the door of GM’s home. It starts with something as stupid as her clothes being folded and put away…when nobody’s there.

  When someone invades her room and fools around with her digital camera and leaves strange pictures on it, things get weirder.

  Then Keira starts having her own strange experiences. It’s as if she could read a person’s mind! But that’s crazy.

  Right?

  Too soon, GM comes out with the truth to Keira. Why she’s been brought to Canada, and what Keira’s true nature is.

  It involves ghosts.

  And demons.

  And death…

  The Mystical Veil

  By

  Michelle Dorey

  About this book

  Keira is flunking out of school...again. She’s flitted like a butterfly from one college program to another. The only thing she’s ever finished has been the last call at dance clubs.

  Everything changes in a New York minute when her parents decide it’s time for tough love and cut her off. No more credit cards, no more cash allowance and OMG they canceled her apartment’s lease. On top of all that, she’s banished to her grandmother’s. A grandmother she never knew existed.

  Her grandmother is batty as hell—Pamela York lives in an antiquated manor, dresses for dinner like she’s the Queen of England and makes crazy talk about ghosts.

  Ghosts? As. If.

  Keira’s about to learn a few things. Haunted houses do exist and she’s living in one. Pamela isn’t psychotic; she’s a powerful psychic whose lifework has been assisting reluctant spirits pass through The Veil to a higher plane.

  When Keira discovers she has a
lot more in common with the old woman than she ever imagined, her real education begins.

  But it’s not just reluctant spirits Pamela has had to contend with. There also exists malevolent forces; paranormal entities which crave the chaos of a Veil torn asunder. Keira finds out not only are ghosts real— so are demons.

  Uh oh.

  Copyright 2017, Michelle Dorey

  ISBN: 978-1-927984-97-0

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  120117 Bonus

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  ONE

  DAMN! THE DOORS OF THE CAR SLID SHUT just as I reached the bottom of the stairs. If I hadn’t stopped for that latte, I could have made it and managed to get in at least half of the class. The squealing of the subway’s wheels as it left the station went through my already aching head like a cold knife. Argh! Why did I let Cerise talk me into those last two gimlets last night? The alcohol was probably still oozing out of my pores.

  I probably should have flagged a cab but it was near the end of the month. If I hit Mom up for an advance again, it would be the third time this semester. Her lectures had gone from disappointment to nagging; if I ask for more money one more time she’d be well and truly pissed. Nope, taking the subway was the wiser move, in spite of the stench.

  When the hand touched my arm from behind I let out a squeak and jumped away. Spinning around, I backed up three steps as I pushed my shoulder bag behind me.

  A filthy panhandler, his eyes more bloodshot than mine stared at me obsequiously, his hand held out, palm up. “Spare some change?”

  I sighed as I rubbed the sleeve of my jacket where he touched me. Shit, now I was going to have to Purell my hand. I shook my head in resignation as I opened the flap of my bag and dug around while keeping an eye on him. Cerise would have laughed at my bleeding heart. Just last night when a beggar on the street asked for some change, she asked if he could break a fifty.

  There were precious few bills in my purse but I managed to find a few coins to drop into his gnarly hand. It was then that the stench of his B.O. hit me and my stomach convulsed; it was still pretty queasy from last night’s vodka and his smell brought me right to the edge of hurling. Ewww!

  “Blessings ma’am.” He shuffled off down the platform as I dug out the Purell and spritzed my hands, watching his back.

  I wish I had turned away, but I didn’t. He was wearing a jacket he probably got out of the dumpster at the Salvation Army, but that’s not what made me stare. It was his feet.

  He had some kind of beat-up sneakers, but he didn’t have any socks. His pants were too short and I saw how thin his ankles were. They were beyond thin—he was so skinny. My breath caught in my chest.

  “Hey!” I called out to him. “Hey, mister!” I pawed back into my purse sighing. Maybe I could put the squeeze on Dad without Mom knowing, I thought to myself as I pulled out my last five and ten.

  The guy had turned around. I gulped a lungful of air and holding the two bills up in my hand stepped up to him.

  “I want to give this to you, but you have to make me a promise.” I didn’t inhale yet.

  “Huh?” Okay, this guy wasn’t a genius.

  “Look,” I said, “If I give you this extra money, you have to promise me you’ll buy food with it.” I leaned forward a little. “And only something to eat. No booze or drugs. You gotta eat something, mmister.”

  He cackled. “You just called me ‘mister’.” He grinned, and after looking at the mess his teeth were, I wish he hadn’t. “Been a long time since I been called that.” He reached out for the money.

  I snatched my hand back. “No. You have to promise me. A real promise.”

  His eyes were riveted on the money. “Sure. Cross my heart, hope ta die, alright?” He even did the thing with his fingers across his chest, and held out his hand again.

  I shook my head no. “I want a real promise. Swear on…” I paused and looked into his eyes. “Swear on the memory of the person you’ve loved the most.” I have nooo clue where that came from, okay? But it had an effect.

  His head rocked back like I had slapped him. “Dorothy?” he said. “I gotta swear on Dorothy?” His eyes misted. “I ain’t thought of her in a long time, ma’am.”

  “Swear on Dorothy, and get something to eat, okay mister?”

  He kept his eyes downcast. “I swear on Dorothy LaRussa that I’ll use this money only to get something to eat.” He lifted his head. “Promise.” His eyes were filled with sorrow and loss. Looking at his face broke my heart.

  “I believe you. Here.” I passed the two bills to him and they disappeared.

  He cackled at me. “Maybe I’ll buy bourbon balls at some chocolate shop, huh?” He waved a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll eat pizza.” He then smacked his lips. “No! There’s a White Castle just a few stops down!” His eyes got soft. “I ain’t thought about Dorothy in a long, long time, ma’am.” The forlorn expression was replaced by a smile. Sure, it was wistful and bittersweet, but it was a smile. “God, I loved her.” He tipped me a two-fingered salute, “Thank you for that memory, ma’am,” and turned away. I watched him approach his next victim, a well-heeled corporate woman in a black silk Donna Karan jacket.

  Just as the next train’s doors closed and pulled out of the station. Damn. I almost laughed. No good deed goes unpunished.

  ‘Ma’am!’ Did I look that old? Sure, I didn’t have time to put any makeup on but how many ma’ams wear Zara leggings with three-inch stilettos? I pulled out my Clinique compact and flipped open the mirror. Yeah, I looked like hell. But not like a ‘ma’am,’ okay? I looked like your average, hungover, twenty-three-year-old student in a rush to get to class. That’s all.

  If it was really bad, a visit to one of the doctors up in midtown could straighten it out, no problem. I’ll worry about that after I finish school and start auditioning. By then I’d have an agent who would tell me flat out if I needed some work done or not. I was still checking for crow’s-feet and laugh lines—none!—when the next train pulled in with its screeches and clatters.

  Twenty minutes later I entered the brick brownstone which housed the American Academy of Drama and took a deep breath to clear my head. My heels tocked-tocked on the terrazzo floor, while the sounds of voices raised in reciting scripts drifted from the rooms I raced by. I had only gone two steps up the broad stairway when a voice stopped me cold.

  “Ms. Swanson?”

  Oh damn. I knew that voice. I’d sat across from the director of the school just last week. With my heart in my throat, I turned and managed a small smile. “Yes, Mr. Morris? Can I see you later? I’m late and I really have to—”

  “No. I’m afraid we need to talk. Now. Follow me, if you would be so kind.�
�� He pushed the thick-framed glasses up his aquiline nose and spun on his heels, the overhead light casting a glare on his bald head as he strode down the hall.

  For a moment all I could do was stand there clutching the handrail and blink. This couldn’t be good. The last time I’d sat in that office, he’d given me the lecture about how privileged I was to be attending this exclusive school, and the whole Meisner spiel that “acting was living truthfully in an imaginary world.” And of all the times for him to be roaming the hall, it just had to be when I was running late! Shit!

  I trudged down the steps and walked down the corridor into his office, just in time to see him pluck a wilted leaf from the ivy plant on the windowsill. His smile was tight under flinty gray eyes which zeroed in on me like a bird of prey. He pulled out the chair in front of the desk and with a slight gesture indicated for me to take a seat.

  My muddled mind kicked into high gear. “I’m sorry I’m late for class today. My roommate’s mother was in a car accident and I was up late with her at the hospital.” Please God, let the acting classes pay off enough for him to buy it. I sat down into the seat and leaned forward, giving my best wide-eyed, innocent look.