Legacy of the Succubus

by Kim Schubert

  “There are veggie rolls downstairs,” he defended as I continued to glare at him. He rolled his eyes. “And chicken-free lettuce wraps, deep fried orange cauliflower, and fried rice.”

  “That’s better,” I told him before the blow dryer ended our conversation.

  Jerry worked silently and I watched him in the mirror. His face was drawn, his eyes focused, grief still etched on his features.

  He finished blow drying and I was bored.

  “Stop staring at me, Olivia.”

  I huffed. He smoothed down the soft curls he had skillfully crafted.

  He met my gaze in the mirror.

  “Yes, I miss her, but honestly, I feel guilty. Because I’m glad you are still here and that’s what’s most important to me,” Jerry admitted.

  I continued to look at him in the mirror. “There was a time I would have given my life for her,” I admitted.

  Jerry rested his hands on my shoulders.

  “We need you, Olivia. No one else can lead us like you can.”

  I nodded at his reflection, refusing to cry and need to have my makeup reapplied. I wanted to believe him, but I knew I had crafted the Council from blood and fear. That was my legacy, and that’s how I ruled. And never before had it bothered me, but I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  “I’m going to eat, thanks for the hair and makeup.” I stood, rapidly blinking to dismiss the tears.

  Jerry nodded, gathering up his supplies in silence.

  Downstairs, Tommy was eyeballing my food. I sat down across from him, pulling a container with a fork sticking out to me. That Logan, always thoughtful.

  “You know they are going to feed you at the fundraiser?” Tommy said.

  “They have small portions and even smaller taste,” I told him around a mouthful. “Here, have a veggie roll,” I offered.

  He gave me a look. “Ginny and I feel the same way about vegetables. Unless it’s deep fried cauliflower, drowned in sugary orange sauce,” he said, sneaking a bite from another open container. Where was he hiding that fork? And how much had he already eaten?

  “Get your own!” I complained. He laughed, taking the container and fleeing the kitchen.

  Logan took Tommy’s place, watching him with a smile. I tried not to go all gooey at the open warmth on his face.

  “The Magician and Doyle get settled?” I asked.

  “Yes, your father and Jerry are going shopping after we leave. The tailor left with Doyle’s measurements and the promise to make multiple options.”

  “That’s good, he probably wants pants,” I chuckled.

  Logan shrugged, stealing my rice. I glared at him.

  …

  An hour later, we were making a tardy entrance to the fundraiser. Stepping out of the limo, I adjusted my dress.

  “This looks familiar,” I told Logan with a smile. Logan threaded our fingers together, pulling me closer to him.

  “Does it?”

  “Yeah, isn’t this the place where I was your date when Lorraine was ill?” I asked him, ascending the steps.

  He squinted at the building before looking down at me. “Is it?”

  “I could be wrong, but I’m not.”

  Logan chuckled, “I suppose you are not.”

  We stopped at the open front door, a woman in a gold dress with a clipboard greeting us.

  “Hello and welcome, can I get your invitation?” she asked politely.

  Logan held out his phone. She read what was there, nodding before checking off our names on her clipboard.

  “Please follow Roger, he will take you to your table.”

  Logan nodded and we followed behind the host to our assigned seats.

  To my surprise, heads turned as we walked in, people’s gazes following our progress.

  “What are they saying?” I hissed to Logan, not enjoying our sudden popularity.

  “They recognize you from the TV broadcast you hijacked.”

  “Oh.” I had forgotten about that, what with mostly dying and rogue-mageddon and all.

  Our host, Roger, pulled out my chair with a smile. I sat, trying to be dainty but failing miserably as I shuffled closer to the table.

  Logan seated himself just fine. Asshole.

  The woman to my left, set her reading glasses down, turned to introduce herself. “Hello dear, I’m Gretchen.”

  I smiled, taking her outstretched hand. “Olivia.”

  She nodded. “Wonderful venue, isn’t it? I hear the shifters had their own soirée here.”

  I stifled my laugh and smiled out, “How fascinating.” Apparently, Logan was going to keep some sort of anonymity.

  “Aren’t you the one that warned everyone about the attacking vampires?” Getchen continued on.

  “I am.” I probably should have corrected her use of the word vampire, but given my previous conversation with the spineless jackasses of their Council, I wasn’t in the mood to help their PR campaign.

  “Blasted beasts, they should all be put down.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Logan muttered.

  “They certainly have been causing their fair share of problems,” I agreed. Surveying the scene, I commented, “I’m surprised we didn’t miss the speakers.”

  “Senator Vargas had a few security issues to address, since the leader of the shifters is supposed to be here. I hear they are using silver bullets,” she whispered to me.

  I grunted, turning to look at Logan. His jaw tightened. I had silver hiding along my thighs, but my outfit didn’t leave room to hide much else.

  “Are they expecting a fight?” I asked, taking a sip of the champagne set in front of me.

  Gretchen shrugged, “With those monsters, who can really tell?”

  I opened my mouth to tell her what I thought about those monsters, but Logan squeezed my leg. I turned to him and he nodded toward the stage.

  The woman in the gold dress from the door was now up there, waiting for everyone’s rapt attention.

  Gretchen was lucky. I swallowed down my biting words.

  The woman up front put on a winning smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight.” She paused for the applause. “And thank you for your support for Senator Vargas.” More applause. I rested my chin in my palm with a long-winded sigh.

  “I hate this crap,” I hissed to Logan.

  He took a drink from his own glass. “I know, but this is our best shot at speaking with the new Governor or acting Governor.”

  I shrugged.

  The woman in gold droned on about how wonderful Senator Vargas was, how giving, how amazing, how perfect in judgment. Blah, blah, blah. I tried playing footsie with Logan under the table, but apparently our earlier romp had left him satisfied, or at least able to exercise better judgment than my own.

  Gretchen clapped at each painful pause in the speech.

  “With that, it is my pleasure to introduce Senator Hector Vargas.” People actually stood up to clap, for a human who made rules. Logan glared at me from his elevated position, until I did the same with a scowl.

  Senator Vargas took the stage, standing behind the wooden podium and waiting for the overzealous applause to die down. I sat down quickly with a huff of annoyance that wasn’t unnoticed by Vargas. Can’t say I gave a shit.

  He’s staring directly at us, I thought to Logan.

  He is, he answered. Neither of us broke the stare-down until Vargas turned his attention to the room full of people who actually wanted it.

  He smiled, and unlike Hash, there was some warmth behind it. His Mexican heritage was evident from his bronze skin, black hair, and matching dark brown eyes.

  “Thank you, thank you,” he began. “I am honored to be standing in front of you as the hopeful next Governor of our wonderful state. More fucking applause.

  I groaned, they hadn’t even fed us yet.

  After droning on and on and on, Vargas finally shut up.

  “Thank you all again for coming. Please enjoy the wonderful meal that has been prepared.” People stood to cheer h
im off the stage. I hid a yawn; nothing he had said even stirred a response in me. I suppose it was also fair to note, however, that he hadn’t mentioned us Supernaturals at all.

  Interesting, considering I was fairly certain he knew we were here.

  Waiters bustled about refilling drinks, dropping off bread, butter and salad.

  I looked down at the leafy vegetables with a groan.

  Logan laughed, “It may be the only thing you can eat.” My stomach picked that moment to growl.

  I sighed, picking up my fork and trying to find a section heavily laden with dressing.

  Logan’s prediction was correct, and it annoyed me. He enjoyed eating double portions of the small steaks they had provided along with the bacon potatoes.

  “The asparagus is game,” he said with a knowing laugh.

  “I’ve eaten enough green shit for today, thanks.”

  Logan nodded, turning to face me, his gaze watching Vargas intently. “He should be making the rounds soon.”

  I nodded, surveying the room behind him. People were getting up from their seats, mingling. It appeared from their relaxed body language that no one expected trouble. Interesting. I was never calm whenever there was a gathering of Supernaturals. Especially when Logan or I was in the spotlight. But I suppose no one was likely to challenge Vargas for his tentative position and rightfully claim it by his death.

  I huffed. Apparently, the events of the past few days were drawing out long forgotten-about memories. I settled my chin in my hand, thinking back on when I had challenged Hadrian for the Council…

  “I’ve come for your head.” I pointed my sword at Hadrian as he lounged on his golden throne.

  The vampire beast smiled, fangs elongated, eyes ambered, drawing his long legs under him.

  “Don’t be foolish, little girl,” he hissed at me, leaning forward, his silk shirt revealing hard white chiseled flesh.

  Hadrian lived in a mansion he had swindled from one of his pets. A three-tiered inky chandelier cast light from cream candles, glittering against the teardrop crystals before casting eerie shadows below. The vampires didn’t need the extra light. I’d have liked more illumination, but it wasn’t my main priority.

  Killing Hadrian and taking his seat at the head of the Council was.

  “I told you to leave me alone,” I reminded him.

  He shrugged, leaning back against the inky throne with ruby jewels.

  “It was just a siren. Why do you care if I drained her?” he asked.

  I lowered my sword. “She was mine.” I’d needed her alive to secure the trade I had arranged. His meddling had cost me a hefty sum.

  He shrugged, a smile playing over his lips. “Not anymore.”

  I growled. “Get down here, Hadrian, your head is mine.”

  Hadrian came down from his throne one leisurely step at a time. “Come, pet, be one of my own. Do what I tell you, when I tell you. You don’t want the headache of the Council.”

  I grunted, “I don’t take orders well. I want your fucking head.”

  “Then I accept your challenge,” Hadrian smiled, his dark eyes glittering.

  I twisted my wrist, swinging my sword, watching him closely.

  “Oh pretty, that weapon is useless against me,” he chided.

  “Guess we will see,” I taunted.

  In the eight months since I had freed myself from the insanity of Selena, I had learned that vampires were still assholes, humans were essentially worthless, and my succubus and incubus brethren were considered the lowest of the low in the Supernatural world.

  It was a situation I was working on rectifying by killing one fucking asshole at a time. But I needed funds, and the siren deal was supposed to set me up for months.

  “Do try not to ruin the silk, it’s my favorite.”

  Hadrian kept his arms lose at his sides, sauntering as we began circling each other. I wasn’t surprised. Everyone had underestimated me thus far, and this pathetic excuse for a Master Vampire was no different.

  He faked a lunge at me, smiling.

  I didn’t flinch. He pulled back, laughing, and his entourage joined in, their naked bodies draped around his throne.

  I’d had enough of his games. He turned, bowing before his horde of followers. I made my move, swiping my blade against his back, slicing deeply into his spine before cutting up and into his muscles.

  He arched back, a scream of outrage and shock leaving his mouth. He turned back to me, anger contorting his features.

  “How dare you!”

  It was my turn to laugh. “I dared, whatcha gonna do about it?”

  Hadrian lunged again, this time with no intent of faking me out. Arms outstretched, he tried to pin me against his body. His fighting technique was laughable. I twisted away easily, raising my sword once I had the distance. It cleaved up his side, leaving a beautiful trail of dark blood. He came at me again, not pausing in his attack, finally taking me seriously.

  Good, I was bored.

  His clawed nails tried to catch me, wanting to tear into my exposed flesh. I met him hit for hit and he never landed a claw. I scored numerous slices into his hands and forearms. It succeeded in pissing him off further.

  I smiled, waiting for an opening, biding my time as we moved in a circular pattern. He stumbled in his assault, just once, but it was enough for me. I shifted my weight down, swinging my blade overhead and through his exposed neck.

  Panting, I watched his pathetic body turn to ash. “And that makes me Queen Bitch, motherfucker.”

  “Olivia, Olivia, did you hear me?” Logan asked, shaking my shoulder slightly.

  “Sorry, no, what’s up?” I shook my head, clearing away memories of my past.

  Logan gave me a searching look and I felt the question on his lips before he changed his mind. “Vargas has requested a private meeting with us.”

  I looked around, not seeing said person doing the inviting. “Who told you?”

  He leveled me with an annoyed look.

  “Right, shifter hearing. Let’s go.”

  I stood and Logan followed my lead, taking my hand and weaving us in between the elegantly dressed guests until we arrived in front of the woman in the gold dress.

  She looked up from her clipboard, clearly shocked.

  “Why, hello, I … I was just going to speak with you,” she tried to recover with a laugh.

  “We know,” I told her with a shrug. I wasn’t going to put effort into coming up with a lie.

  “Yes … well … then follow me.” She turned, strutting in her impossibly high heels.

  I probed the mate bond, wondering if Logan was checking out her assets.

  No, came the answer in my head.

  I huffed a laugh, looking over at him.

  “You are the only one for me,” he whispered before dropping a kiss against my cheek. I warmed at the action and the words, feeling for the first time in forever that things might actually be okay.

  We were shown into a room designed in soft peach and gold tones. Everything about it bespoke of too much fucking money.

  “That was fast,” Vargas said, extending his hand to each of us in turn. I shook his hand with a smile that didn’t show teeth. No need to scare the new guy, yet.

  I plopped myself down on the canary flowered couch with a grunt. Logan followed, far more refined.

  “Logan, thank you for coming and for your generous donation,” Vargas began. “I don’t believe we have had the pleasure,” he said to me.

  “I’m Olivia, head of the Supernatural Council for the Eastern U.S.,” I clipped out.

  He nodded. “You look different from the TV.”

  I shrugged.

  “So, I imagine we need to discuss how to handle this situation,” Vargas began, unbuttoning his jacket.

  “What situation?” Logan asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket in turn, resting an arm over my shoulders.

  “Continuing the monitoring of your kind.” As though it was a given.

  I scoffed, “Oh man
, that’s not going to happen.”

  “I don’t see how it can’t. Now, we won’t move forward with the implanted tracking devices until next year.”

  I laughed, hard, holding my stomach and leaning forward.

  “Oh man, that was funny, good one.”

  “I’m exceptionally serious. As we have seen, your kind can’t be trusted.”

  “No, vampires can’t be trusted. We risked life and limb to save your pathetic human asses,” I reminded him.

  “We didn’t need your help. You brought this mess to our door.”

  “Nope, I sure didn’t.”

  Vargas sat back. He had no proof for his claim and this conversation was clearly not going as he expected.

  “It’s going to be a law, you won’t disobey the law.”

  I groaned, leaning my head back against Logan’s arm. “You want to try and talk some sense into him?”

  Logan freed his arm and I adjusted in my seat as he leaned forward, hands clasped together. “What Olivia is trying to say is that we have been protecting the humans from Supernatural threats, like the rogues. Alienating our kind will only expose this city to vampire control, without anyone or anything to protect you.”

  “Threats? That’s how you people function?” Vargas demanded, a flush creeping up his neck.

  “It’s not a threat,” I chimed back in. “It’s the truth. You have to trust us to protect the city from threats that aren’t human.” Wonderful, and with that I’m back to sounding like a comic book. “Which we have proven we’ll do.”

  “You are dangerous. I don’t even know what you are,” he said to me.

  I shrugged, “That’s not any of your business.”

  Vargas stood forcefully out of his chair, beginning to pace the room, “You people are monsters! Innocent people lost their lives because of you things!”

  “Again, that was the vampires. We were trying to help people,” I reminded him yet again. “We aren’t the bad guys in this situation; however, they are coming.”

  “What?” he demanded.

  I shook my head. “For whatever reason, the vampires have decided to target St. Ann. The Vampire High Council is en route as we speak.”

  “I’ll deny them entry.”

  Logan laughed. “They can glamour almost all humans, they have super strength and blinding speed. How do you plan on doing that?”