What the hell is something like that doing in a modern kitchen like this?
Turning sideways, he aims one of his black beady eyes at me. “Can you see it?”
I crinkle my nose. “See what? The door?”
He pulls his lips over his big front teeth and nods. “Good.”
Who the fuck would miss something like that? I squint at it when I realize there’s moss on the damn thing. And it’s not like this door is limited to magical eyes only—it’s sitting in the goddamn Dark Hall. Most people here have some sort of magical ability.
He reaches for the handle, and when the door doesn’t open, he brings in his other hand and hops up and down. His face turns beet red, and a squiggly vein pops out on his left temple.
“You need help?” I ask.
“It’s… it’s jammed.”
I fight the urge to smile. I doubt it’s jammed—the guy looks like he’d strain a muscle trying to lift a twig.
He hops hard one last time, using his tail to hold him up, and a loud clicking sound fills the air. Glancing into the kitchen with his mouth wide open, he nods fast. “Okay, hurry.”
I can’t see anything behind the door; it’s pitch black. He wants me to go in there? Whatever. What choice do I have? My succubus eyes will adjust. I step inside, and he shuffles behind me. His breath is short and fast as if he finished running a marathon moments ago or suffers from a deviated septum.
Or maybe both.
To be honest, it’s irritating. I hate the sound of heavy breathing unless I’m the cause of it.
I’m tempted to tell him to shut up, but I don’t have the time. Behind us, the massive door slams shut and I flinch. I blink hard to bring my succubus eyesight into play, but it doesn’t work.
I can’t see shit.
“Where are we?” I hiss.
“Where do you want to be?”
Now he’s asking for it.
“What’s your problem?” I say. “I’m not in the mood to play mind games.”
He must sense that I’m about to deck him. I might not be able to see him, but I know where’s he’s standing and with those big ears of his, it wouldn’t be hard to get a good grip on my target.
“You’re in the Hall of Hollows,” he says like it’s some big secret.
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“You’ve never heard of it?” he asks.
I grind my teeth so hard they squeak. Who leads someone into some weird-ass place with the assumption that they already know about it? What he should have done was explain everything to me before we set foot inside this Hall of Whatevers.
“It’s a creation ground,” he says.
“Explain faster,” I order.
“All you have to do is put forth an intention of where you want to go.”
“So basically, you’re telling me I can teleport anywhere.”
“Technically speaking, it isn’t teleportation—”
Although I can’t see him, I can picture his big teeth moving up and down over his lower lip. It might have something to do with the fact that I can hear his massive overbite.
He continues. “I heard you were looking for—”
Impatient, I wave a hand in the air, and although I can’t even see my hand, the sound of my jacket chafing must have been enough to shut him up.
“I know who I’m looking for,” I say. “How do I do this? Do I picture finding her and click my shoes together three times?”
“Why would you click—” he tries.
Rolling my eyes, I let out a sharp breath. “Give me instructions.”
When he doesn’t respond, I snap, “Now!”
He lets out a squeal so high-pitched I reach for my ears. “Dude, what the fuck was that?”
“S-s-sorry,” he says. “You startled me.”
Instead of saying anything this time, I shut my mouth and wait for his instructions. At the moment, he’s my one option for finding this Devania lady. The last thing I want to do is scare him away.
“With your mind, put out your intention,” he says. “Imagine where you want to be, or why you want to be there. If the Hall of Hollows thinks you’re worthy enough to continue, it’ll guide you.”
I’m about to make some smart-ass remark about it being impossible for space to think, but by now, I know that anything in this universe, and every other-dimensional version of it, is possible.
So instead, I close my eyes and my mind strays toward me kissing Veerka’s bare chest, her hips, her thigh—
Shit.
Clearing my throat, I try to think about how I’ll find my way back to Veerka. She told me to find a woman named Devania Arkis, and that this woman would be the one to help us fight the battle against vampire corruption. And the only way for me to get Veerka back is to ensure Lucius loses his reign, hence why I’m going through with this mission. The problem is I don’t know what this lady looks like, or where she might be, but what I know most of all is that I need to find her.
The blackness around me turns into a bright white light, and I turn in time to see Peter smiling up at me, his slimy front teeth looking even more yellow than I remembered underneath this blinding light.
“Good luck with the trial,” he says.
“Trial? What the f—” I don’t have time to finish. At once, the light disappears, and I’m standing in what looks like an abandoned warehouse.
I turn toward Peter again, but he’s gone.
Great. Fucking great.
“Yeah, right there,” someone says.
I swing the other way but realize this warehouse-looking place is full of people. Most of them look like witches from centuries ago—pointed hats, long suede cloaks, staffs, and spell books under their noses.
What’s going on? I intended to find Devania—the leader of the underground rebellion. Why are there witches here? And fae? I assumed the rebellion would be made up of vampires. Maybe I have this all wrong. I’m assuming Devania is a vampire, when she might be something else entirely.
I wish I could teleport back to where I was and strangle Peter for giving me such shitty instructions.
I move forward, the wooden floorboards under my feet creaking, and observe everyone around me. They’re all hunched over old-looking tables like they’re playing scratch cards. Why are they so focused? Two young witches with matching red pigtails say something aloud and pour a jarful of green slime into a cauldron. They turn around and block their ears like they’re anticipating an explosion. When nothing happens, they grin from ear to ear and high-five each other.
Then, a short male witch brushes past me.
“Um, excuse me,” I try.
He’s either deaf, or he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even bother turning around to look at me, and instead, smacks his forehead as if trying to remember something from his childhood.
“Okay,” I mutter.
When another witch walks by me, I extend my hand to touch her shoulder. But she halts before I make contact, bites her bottom lip, and spins around so fast I don’t even have time to say anything.
What are they all working on? It’s like they’re trying to solve the mystery of life. No one even realizes I’m standing here. Can they not see me?
“Hello?” I say, my voice growing louder.
Nothing.
Seriously? Am I invisible? It wouldn’t be the first time that happened.
“Are you all blind?” I shout.
At once, everyone stops what they’re doing, and dozens of eyes roll my way.
Okay, they can see me.
“Did you hear that?” asks one of the red-pigtailed witches.
She’s staring through me and at the door at the front of the warehouse.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Is this what Peter was talking about when he said it wasn’t technically teleportation? Is that because I’m not actually here?
“Hello?” I shout.
The way they keep turning their heads, it’s obvious they can hear something.
>
“Probably another Searcher,” one woman whispers.
A Searcher? What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Breathing in a long, calculated breath, I close my eyes. I’m here for a reason, and all I have to do now is figure out what it is. Peter said something about being worthy. If I mouth off and throw shit, I don’t think I’ll pass whatever this trial is.
“Miss Rayne?” comes a deep voice from behind me.
I twirl around so fast my stolen leather jacket slaps itself.
The man standing before me isn’t the type of person I’d expect to see in a place like this. He smiles at me, or at least, he tries to and reveals two pointed fangs at the corners of his lips. His face is white as snow, the same as his perfectly combed hair. The two combined make his entire head look like a glow-in-the-dark ball in this dim space.
“You can see me?” I say.
Still smiling, he offers a slow nod like he’s amused. I don’t see what’s funny about any of this.
“Where am I?” I ask.
“I believe you were already given instructions on how to proceed.”
The words come out with an ancient Old English accent, and for a second, it almost makes me forget how much I fucking hate it when people don’t answer my questions. It isn’t rocket science. Someone asks a question and you answer it. And what came out of his mouth has nothing to do with my question.
“Where am I?” I repeat, my tone hardening.
I’m not sure if I’m pissed off because he didn’t answer my question, or because I wasn’t given any instructions by Peter.
“That, Miss Rayne, is up to you.”
Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.
It sucks knowing you have anger issues and not being able to control them. I’m well aware that I’m boiling on the inside—somewhat unnecessarily—but I can’t help it. I’m sobering up, I don’t know what the fuck is going on, and apparently, the fate of San Halos and possibly the world lies with me.
Well, that’s how Veerka made it sound, anyway. I might be blowing it up a bit in my head because I like to imagine myself as her knight in shining armor. I won’t even bother turning that statement into a female version because I enjoy gender-bending.
So instead of exploding, I picture myself going down on Veerka and that seems to work.
That’s the ultimate goal, isn’t it? Getting to keep her as mine.
I haven’t a clue who this vampire is, why he can see me, or how he knows my name, but it’s obvious he has something to do with this trial I’ve been forced into.
“What do you want from me?” I ask.
“This is not about what I want, Miss Rayne. I believe you are searching for something.”
All right, so this guy isn’t a total quack. My eyes narrow on him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. I’m almost tempted to use my Lure to get him to answer me, but oddly, it feels inappropriate. It’s like he’s some ancient guru, thousands of years old, and the idea of bringing any form of sexual energy near him would be disrespectful.
I’ve never felt that way before. I don’t often give a shit how my Lure will affect the other person, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to do it on this vampire.
“I am looking for something—someone,” I correct. “The Black Widow.”
Slowly, he removes his hand from his belly and extends it out as if preparing to blow a handful of magic dust from his palm. Long wavy nails point outward—nails you’d think haven’t been cut in over a century.
“If your heart is true, you will find her,” he says.
Don’t roll your eyes… Don’t roll your eyes…
I haven’t even started the trial and I feel like I’m failing. My heart is anything but true. Despite this, I take a step in the general direction of where he’s pointing. As I move forward, the entire warehouse flickers, almost as if I’m standing inside a television and the video footage is losing its signal.
The large gathering of witches moving about like elves in Santa’s Village becomes translucent, and as the crowd disappears, a long dirt trail emerges right in the middle of the warehouse.
With the words What the fuck prepared to slip out of my mouth, I turn back to look at the old vampire and discover he’s gone.
Chapter 10
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The translucent crowd of witches continues to move around sporadically, some walking right through me as I make my way to the dirt path.
The moment I step onto it, a cool gust of wind sweeps into me, bringing along with it the smell of pine, wet earth, and fresh lavender. Farther ahead is a thick forest masked by rising fog. I’d be lying if I said the forest looks inviting. It feels like I’m about to step onto some Halloween movie production set. Every time the wind blows, swirls of white swim through the air.
It’s downright creepy.
But there’s a reason this path appeared, so I have to trust that I’m doing the right thing by entering the forest.
I glance from side to side, even though no one in the warehouse can see me, and slowly make my way into the forest. The dirt path feels soft under my boots—at least softer than old planks of wood. The farther I go, the quieter everything around me becomes. The bickering witches sound like nothing more than an old radio emitting sound from across a house.
Overhead, crows sit atop dry branches, cawing every time I take a step forward. I can’t tell if they’re encouraging me to continue or warning me of what’s to come.
Suddenly, one of them takes off, its powerful wings sending a few dead leaves spinning through the air.
You’d think that being immortal would make me immune to being jumpy. After all, what do I have to be afraid of? It’s not like I can die. Well, at least not easily. Deep down, though, I don’t think it’s the fear of death that scares me—it’s the fear of eternal suffering.
I think that’s what scares most immortal beings. I mean, once you’re dead, you’re dead. But the idea of being imprisoned for all of eternity, or worse, tortured every day, is enough to drive someone mad.
I’ve heard countless stories of vampires being punished through eternal torture. While everyone’s version of torture is different, vampires imprison their enemies and starve them of blood. Then, right before the prisoner is so weak they can barely move, their captor places a dropperful of blood, allowing a single droplet to fall out every hour.
Sick, right?
I’ve heard stories about succubi being imprisoned behind glass walls and forced to watch other people fuck.
You think your vibrator battery dying right before you get off is torturous? Or having a girl—or guy—stroke you only to turn around and say they aren’t feeling well? Imagine that feeling a hundredfold.
Then amplify it another hundredfold.
I feel sick to my stomach thinking about it, so instead, I focus on the murky path ahead of me and keep walking.
How far am I supposed to walk? I can’t believe Veerka put me up to this shit. It better be worth it.
I picture her rubbing her breasts, smiling playfully up at me from underneath a candlelight’s glow. A throbbing sensation radiates down my stomach and in between my legs.
It’ll be worth it.
I walk for what feels like hours. Am I going in circles? Everything looks the same: the trees are tall and slanted, fog floats around my ankles, and every few minutes, a single crow caws… And it sounds the same every single time.
What kind of sick game is this?
“Hello?” I shout.
Like in horror movies, my voice echoes over and over throughout the forest.
“What the hell do you want from me?” I shout.
The last few words echo again, moving farther and farther away from my ears.
“We want you,” comes a soothing voice.
Spinning around, I spot a naked couple. The man has long luscious brown hair and glistening skin covered in black tribal tattoos. His chest is so muscular that it’s rounded, and his shoulders are twice the width of the w
oman’s. With a strand of hair dangling in front of his face, he smiles at me, then wraps his fingers around the woman’s bare, curvy hips.
Like him, her eyes are on me. She pulls her long blond hair over one shoulder, allowing it to hang over her large right breast.
Without looking away from me, the man grabs her by the back of the hair and pulls, exposing her delicate neck and forcing her lips to part. She lets out an excited moan, her eyes never leaving mine.
With his veiny, muscular hands, the man bends her forward, grabs himself, and spreads her legs apart. A high-pitched sound escapes her parted lips as he enters her from behind.
Holy shit.
Unable to look away, I swallow hard, my throat sticking.
Although he starts slowly, his movements roughen, and the sound of skin slapping expands throughout the forest. With every thrust, her breasts jiggle on her chest and she lets out a pleasured whimper.
They should know better than to taunt a succubus.
Grinding my teeth, I bow my head.
I’ll show you what a real fuck feels like…
I’m about to charge at them when another sound captures my attention.
It’s the last sound I want to hear when I’m sexually aroused—the sound of a frightened woman.
“Help!” she cries out.
Begrudgingly, I turn around to spot a young woman in a bright red coat and shoes to match. Her long, wavy brown hair flows behind her as she runs, a look of sheer panic on her face. With her mouth open wide, she breathes out hard to catch her breath, her cheeks reddening in the process.
What’s she running from?
First, I hear it; then I see it.
The monster’s footsteps send vibrations into the soles of my feet as it approaches, and then its head—well, all three heads—emerge from the forest’s greenery.
It roars out, its three heads bouncing up and down as it chases the woman.
The thing looks like a Cerberus pulled right out of ancient Greece… something I’ve encountered once before and hoped to never encounter again. Drool spills from its three mouths as it snaps at the air with its massive canine teeth.
Holy shit.
Behind me, the naked couple moans louder than before as the man thrusts in and out of the woman.
Lethal Blow: (Succubus Hitwoman Book 2) Page 6