Incubus Hitman

by Jack Porter

  I did what I could to calm myself down, and the cold sweat on my brow had largely dissipated by the time the taxi pulled up in front of me.

  I took a deep swallow of my drink, which burned my throat on the way down. I almost spat it back out as I coughed. In the recesses of my mind, I could almost hear the demon laughing at my lack of composure, but I didn’t care.

  I’d done it! For once, everything had gone my way. Not only had I successfully become the host for a full demon and rid myself of my awful roommate at the same time, but I had also succeeded in getting rid of the evidence. I’d even wiped down the floorboards in my room with bleach and cleaned all my knives the same way.

  As far as anyone was concerned, Chad had simply disappeared. Only the lingering scent of bleach in the air could even hint at a more sinister end. And even that, my dark passenger assured me, would be gone by the morning.

  I took another sip of my drink, more carefully this time, and let out a sigh as I sank low in the chair.

  It had been a long day, but I wasn’t yet ready to hit the sack. Instead, I was wired. I wanted to keep going, to take the next step along the path, no matter what that step might be.

  “So, Azrael, once mighty Demon, second only to Lucifer himself. What’s next?”

  “That depends entirely on what you desire,” the demon responded.

  I snorted at his answer and took another sip. “You already know what I want. Money. Power. Fame or infamy, I don’t really care which. Women. But above all else, I want status. I’m tired of being a low-level loser. I want to rub shoulders with the big boys. I want to be King of the world, and then some. Status one hundred or bust.”

  “You want money, power, fame, and everything that comes with it.”

  “And women,” I said, already a little tipsy. My tolerance for alcohol had never been great.

  “And women,” the voice in my head repeated. “I can help with all of that. But to do so, I need to regain some of the strength I used to possess.”

  I thought about what the demon was saying. “So, I help you regain your power, and you use that to help me achieve my goals. Is that about right?”

  “Yes, that is correct.”

  “Well in that case, how does a demon regain its power?”

  “It depends on the demon. Some of us, blood demons mostly, require a sacrifice in blood. Others feed off the hate and anger that lives in the hearts of men. Both methods have their merits, for it taps into the base desires of humanity as a whole. Throughout all your history, there has never been a shortage of hate, and as you have shown yourself, your species is more than willing to sacrifice the lives of others for their own benefit.”

  “So, that’s all I need to do?” I asked, already wondering how I might find a second sacrifice for my demon.

  “While I can make use of the power that comes with such actions, I am not a blood demon.”

  I realized then that I had never once thought to wonder what sort of monster my parasitic friend might have been. “Then what are you?”

  “I am an Incubus. I gain my strength through sexual conquest.”

  I almost spat out my latest mouthful of rum. For a moment, I choked on it, and had to pound myself on my chest and breathe through my nose to recover. Even then, I had to swallow twice before I could speak once again. I felt myself grinning very broadly, thinking that the day just kept getting better and better.

  “What, you mean I can help you increase your power by bonking?”

  It really did sound like all my dreams had come true.

  “Well, it’s a little more complex than that, but essentially, yes,” the demon confirmed.

  “No shit.” If possible, my grin grew even broader. “Well, when do we start?”

  Chapter 10

  I’ve already mentioned that I was short, overweight, balding, and suffered from a variety of skin complaints that meant women tried not to look at me for too long. In addition, I hadn’t exactly been blessed with a silver tongue. I couldn’t woo the ladies with poetry or witty banter, and in fact had been told that my voice was as grating as the screech of an owl with a cold. If you add to that a lifetime of resentfulness and my perennially low status as well, you wouldn’t lose much money if you bet on me not having had luck in the female conquest arena of life.

  I wasn’t a virgin, but that was due more to drunken pity than anything else, and those few memories all seemed to end the same way—with a look of disgust and shame when they sobered up and saw me next to them in the morning.

  And when I say “them” and “they,” I’m not talking about a long list. You could count the number of sexual partners I’d had on one hand, even if you lost a couple of fingers in an industrial accident.

  I’d never had a real girlfriend, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t willing. For much of my life, I’d been resigned to my physical defects. There didn’t seem to be much I could do about them. But my status was another thing entirely, and really, that’s all that mattered. With a high enough status, girls could ignore everything else.

  It was one of the main reasons I’d become an Ascender to start with.

  It had been a long time since I’d gone out trying to score, but tonight was far from normal. I had a demon inside me, and I was starting to sense that things could indeed be different.

  With a real-life Incubus to help me, how could I fail?

  It had been a long, strange day, but I hit the shower with a growing sense of enthusiasm and renewed energy, and then climbed into my going-out clothes before once again checking myself out in the mirror.

  Azrael’s face looked back at me. “Lose the fedora,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Trust me,” the demon said, and I could hear the mental eyeroll in his voice. It was as if he couldn’t believe he’d been saddled with someone so far down the totem pole as me.

  I wanted to argue. “It’s a ‘what’s it.’ An unusual item that gives people an excuse to ask about it.”

  “No, it isn’t. A pretty necklace is a what’s it. A bracelet, or any item of jewelry. For guys, it depends on your look. A patterned shirt, maybe a tie. But this particular type of fedora, worn by someone like you, sends the wrong signals entirely. First of all, you shouldn’t wear a hat inside, and let’s face it, most women will be taller than you are. Your fedora will effectively hide your face, as well as advertising that you are socially inept. Lose it.”

  I felt my cheeks start to flush, resenting Azrael even as I acknowledged he was probably right. I took off my hat even though it meant I was showing my thinning hair to the world.

  “Lose the neck beard as well,” Azrael said.

  “It makes me seem older. More mature.”

  “No. It looks like a bunch of pubes attached to your face. Your beard is too thin and scraggly, and says nothing more than, ‘I don’t know how to take care of myself.’ Lose it.”

  Now he was just making me mad. I wanted to argue some more, but he forestalled me.

  “Are you really going to argue with an Incubus over this? Think of it this way. I want you to get laid. I need you to get laid. If I am to recover my power, you have to get laid. I am therefore going to do all I can to make that happen. I don’t yet have the power to make you taller or give you a more appealing physique, but at least I can offer try to stop you getting in your own way. Lose. The. Beard.”

  For long moments, I stared at myself in the mirror and seethed. I still wanted to argue, but something he’d said slowly seeped through my irritated mind.

  “Wait,” I said. “Hang on there a moment. You said you don’t yet have the power to make me taller. Are you saying that you could, if you had all your power?”

  “Taller, stronger, better looking, better in every way you can imagine. This is the first true power I possess. Control over your corporeal self. There are others as well, powers that are akin to what you call magic–”

  Not long ago, I’d thought my demon to be fairly useless. But that didn’t seem to b
e the case after all. “But you can’t do any of that now?” I demanded.

  The demon hesitated.

  “Answer me!”

  It was Azrael’s turn to sound resentful. “I have little of the power I once had. Such things have a cost I cannot yet pay.”

  To me, it sounded as if there was something he wasn’t telling me. So I asked him directly. “Is there anything you can do for me now to improve my physical appeal to the ladies?”

  “I… may… be able to clear up your complexion. But if I do–”

  I cut him off. “Do it!” I demanded, feeling pleased with myself.

  “But…”

  “No arguments. Just do it. And show me my own face in the mirror. I want to see.”

  I could sense Azrael’s annoyance. Nevertheless, he did as I demanded. In front of my eyes, the acne that had bothered me for years faded, and even some of the pock marks that I’d started to think of as just my face became less severe.

  I didn’t turn into a modern Adonis. I was still me, a pasty, unhealthy looking guy with a bent nose, overly fleshy lips, and uneven eyes, all under a tuft of dark hair. But at least I didn’t look like I was suffering from some sort of skin-eating disease.

  I broke into a spontaneous grin, and then thought maybe I shouldn’t do that too much when I was trying to score. Or at least, not so much that it showed my teeth.

  “Hey, Azrael, do you think you could do anything about my teeth? Straighten them out? Turn them whiter?”

  The demon inside me didn’t answer.

  “Azrael? Answer!”

  “…No… strength…”

  I felt a moment of panic. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

  “…The cost… of fixing… your face. It… drains me.”

  Of course. I glared at myself in consternation. “How long until you recover?”

  “… A day or so…”

  “Fuck,” I said.

  Here was me, ready to hit the town, looking to score for the first time in ages, with my trusty Incubus acting as a pickup coach in my mind. And I’d blown it. Out of a sense of vanity, I’d made Azrael use more of his power than he could spare, which meant that he was no longer available to be my wingman.

  Of course, I could head out anyway. But let’s get real here. We all knew how that would end up. Instead, I uttered a heartfelt sigh.

  “Ahh, fuck it,” I said.

  With no better solution, and feeling strangely tired myself, I decided to hit the sack.

  I slept a deep, dreamless sleep, completely free of any guilt associated with killing Chad. Perhaps, deep down, I believed it wasn’t really my fault. After all, he had chosen to snort Azrael’s powdered horn all by himself, and in my mind, that was the point where his fate had been sealed. Sure, if I had got him to a hospital quickly enough, they might have been able to do something, but the look in his eyes told me different. He was gone before I plunged my knife into his chest.

  Or, perhaps I was an uncaring psychopathic bastard, out for my own best interests and to Hell with anyone who got in my way.

  The reality was probably somewhere in between. I’ve never thought of myself as completely heartless, and yet, I hadn’t really hesitated when it came to offing the dickhead who could have made my life more enjoyable, but chose to do the opposite.

  I awoke feeling refreshed and invigorated, and sent a tentative thought to my parasitic demon.

  “Are you there?” I asked.

  “… I am… Still here.”

  That wasn’t really the question I wanted him to answer, but the effort he took to project his thoughts told me all I needed to know. With a sigh that mixed disappointment with impatience, I figured I didn’t have much choice than to start the day.

  And wait.

  I only had one client that day, a snot-nosed little shit who had the gall to treat me like the loser I was even though I was helping him raise his junior status. Already, he had the bearing of one of the silver spoon fraternity. Barring some unforeseen misadventure, he would go far, and by the time he was my age, he would likely be into the thirties or higher on the status charts.

  Of course, I hated him as a matter of course, and it was all I could do to bite my tongue when I would have preferred to rip him a new one.

  After that, I played a couple of games with my friends, lamenting that society’s status ratings didn’t take all that much notice of what happened in the online world where gamers hung out.

  All in all, if it weren’t for my impatience with Azrael, it would have been a fairly decent day. It was Chad who took most of the fun out of my life, and this was the first day in forever when I didn’t have to worry about him.

  Finally, not quite twenty-four hours after he went offline, Azrael had regained his strength enough that he could advise me again.

  I got showered and dressed to go out once more, made sure my face was freshly shaved, and barely glanced at my fedora. Even though he might have preferred that I wore a nicer shirt, Azrael pronounced me fit to go out in the world.

  I was ready, I thought. Time to hit the town and do what I could to score.

  Chapter 11

  It’s funny how things worked. I found disposing of a body easier than getting into the better clubs around town. If I’d been tall, beautiful, and of course female, I could have sauntered up to the front of the line of any club I chose, and the bouncers would have waved me through. For guys, the criteria was slightly different. Tall and good-looking were just part of the equation, with the third piece of the puzzle having high status as well.

  Of course, I failed on each point, a fact which made me grind my teeth in resentment. I promised myself I would one day be back, and each and every one of those clubs would beg to have me visit. But for the time being, there wasn’t even any point in lining up.

  Nor was there any value in trying to sneak in through the staff entrance or otherwise con my way in. My goal was simple. I was looking to hook up. And what chance would I have if I was by far the shortest, ugliest, and lowest status guy in the whole place?

  It was this grim reality as much as anything that had kept me away from the club scene for so long. But in a city like El Diablo, there were more than just the popular hangouts. There were all sorts of bars and clubs, catering to all segments of the population.

  I found one that looked promising, a dive that offered no more than a place to drink and maybe play a game of pool or darts, all in the comfort of lighting that was a shade too dim and background music that occasionally broke through the sound of people talking.

  Nevertheless, it was busy enough, and at first glance it seemed there were plenty of single women to choose from.

  “So,” I muttered to my internal companion. “What’s the plan? What’s your pickup technique of choice? Do you have some sort of magic line that never fails? Do you use negging or some other psychological technique? Or what?”

  As I asked the question, I looked around, feeling like a predator in search of its prey. Yet I knew from past experience that I probably looked more like a creeper looking for someone to stalk.

  “In times past, I would select the women I wanted and tell them they were coming with me,” came Azrael’s reply. I caught both the plural and the tone of dismissal, but before I could respond to either one, he continued. “However, that takes confidence, charisma, and the sure knowledge that it’s going to work. None of which you possess.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” I sneered silently at my companion. “I don’t need you to tell me what I can’t do. Tell me what I can do.”

  “In your case, you really have only one option.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Playing the numbers.”

  I paused in the middle of the floor. I wanted to express my disdain for Azrael’s suggestion as clearly as I could but didn’t want anyone’s first impression of me to be any worse than it had to be. And I was pretty certain that talking to myself was not going to help.

  Even so, I couldn’t keep the lo
ok of irritation off my face as I thought the words to Azrael as hard as I could.

  “Are you serious? All your worldly experience, thousands of years practice as an Incubus, a male sex demon, and that’s the best that you got? Play the numbers?”

  “Well, it’s not like we have a lot to work with here–” Azrael started to reply.

  “So, to be clear. You think my best chance of getting laid is to go up to every single woman in this place, one after the other, and try my luck?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Unbelievable. Here was me thinking you had some Incubus magic that would help. And that’s all you’ve got? Fuck me.”

  “That is indeed the goal,” came Azrael’s reply, and it was the first evidence I’d found of a sense of humor in the demon.

  I drew a deep breath and let it out.

  “You are not an attractive man,” Azrael told me, as if I didn’t know. “At this time, I lack the power to do anything about it. In addition, you have a bad attitude, and rifling through your memories, I’ve yet to see any evidence of any sense of romance. You have little to offer any of the women here. Fortunately, there will be some for whom ‘little’ is all that is required.”

  I bristled at Azrael’s phrasing, but before I could object, the demon inside me continued. “You want to get laid as much as I want you to get laid, if not more. I have given you the most viable option for doing so. The only question that remains is whether or not you will follow it through, or if you will punk out as you have done every other time you have tried to pick up women in the past.”

  “I haven’t–” I began.

  “I’ve seen all of your memories,” Azrael reminded me. “I may be bound to you, and I may be obliged to follow your orders as best as I can, but I am under no obligation to pretend you are something you’re not. Now, are you going to do what you need to do? Or not?”

  I stood in the middle of the bar with my fists clenched at my side and my teeth grinding together in anger. At the same time, I knew Azrael was right. I’d never had the balls to simply use a numbers approach, although I’d witnessed other guys doing exactly that.