Drawn

by David Alan Jones

  Something in Melody’s tone gave Anna pause. She wasn’t pleading the way a child might with a parent. She spoke as a lover would. Anna’s throat constricted at the thought of her kid sister, just eighteen, in David Lord’s arms.

  Lord appeared reluctant, but nodded slowly, as if considering a weighty matter. “I’ll spare her. This time. Strunk, grab the girl.”

  Crew cut slung Emily Stone over one shoulder as if she weighed nothing. She made no move to stop him. She didn’t even struggle.

  Using his uninjured hand, Lord shot Matt three times. One bullet in each knee, and a third in his right bicep.

  Matt screamed as did Anna. Blood sprayed across her cheek, leaving spots on her conservative top.

  “Good to see you, Snow,” Lord said in the sudden, shocking silence. Then he headed out, Melody and Strunk on his heels.

  “Melody,” Anna said. “Don’t go with them.”

  For a moment, Melody looked strained, confused, then her expression cleared. “I wouldn’t follow us if I were you. Lord won’t let you go a second time.” With that, she turned and left.

  Matt groaned, trying to sit up. Anna pressed him back down, ignoring her pain for the moment to check his wounds. “Lie still.”

  “I think I’ve got the bleeding stopped,” he said. “It’s all I can do with the bullets still in there.”

  The wounds were sealed, but the pink scars appeared inflamed.

  “Who was that man? Lord?” Anna asked. “He knew you.”

  Matt nodded. His gaze flicked briefly to Satterfield and Benson then back to Anna. “David Lord. My mentor.”

  10

  Debrief

  The conference room in the Links building smelled of new paint and factory-fresh carpet. Its sterile confines left Anna cold and uncomfortable. She tried to ignore those feelings—they added to her general gloom—as she, Benson, and Satterfield took turns recounting their failed mission to save Emily Stone.

  Anna still wore her blood-splattered missionary costume and Kevlar vest. She felt shaky and a little sick. Satterfield, pale and wide-eyed, looked no better. For his part, Benson seemed okay but less talkative than in the morning.

  Robin Ambrose paced at the head of the table, one hand pressed to her cheek. It was the first time Anna had met Camp Den’s director face-to-face. The woman appeared distraught, though Anna couldn’t tell if that arose from the story she was hearing or something else.

  Gunny Lipe sat across from the recruits, hands folded on the table. He listened in stolid silence, the grim commander implacable in the face of defeat.

  Anna and the others had driven straight here from Lucas Falls. Benson, who had medical training from a stint in the Army, had managed to get the slugs out of Matt’s arm using an emergency kit in the back of the van while Anna drove. Matt’s knees had been too far gone, the bullets having shattered the upper portion of both tibias and lodged in the joints. Dr. Stanislaw had rushed Matt off to surgery the moment they arrived.

  “And then we got here,” Satterfield said, finishing the tale.

  Robin quit pacing. “You’re lucky to be alive. David Lord is a vicious man. His presence there gives me pause. Our information said the Stones were to be investigated by Society, not picked up. And certainly not tortured.”

  “What was that about anyway, ma’am?” Satterfield asked. “First with the animals, then the girl’s parents.”

  “I’d like to tell you I don’t know,” Robin said. “I wish what you saw was merely the workings of a deranged man. But we don’t think so.”

  Robin nodded at Lipe.

  “What we’re about to divulge does not leave this room, understood?” Lipe said. “We’ve had a hell of a time keeping it under wraps. I’m not ready for the entire camp to hear this when we’ve got no solid proof for our conjecture.”

  The recruits nodded.

  Lipe adjusted his collar as if it had suddenly grown too tight. “We suspect the Indrawn Breath is constructing, or has constructed, a facility we term a fear factory. They are imprisoning succubi, incubi, and even regular humans in this place where they’re forced into vast votary chains constructed on fear.”

  “I don’t get it,” Benson said.

  “It’s a little-known draw,” Robin said. “Few succubi can even use it. We associate it with inciting fear in votaries, though in reality, you’re stealing their courage. It leaves them vulnerable to unmitigated fear.”

  Anna stiffened in her seat, her mind’s eye flashing back to the night Matt had saved her from those Society takers. She tasted again the inexplicable horror she had felt at the end of the chase and knew for certain Matt had employed fear to stop her.

  “I don’t see what good that would do.” Satterfield shook her head. “This Lord and his man, Strunk, they were more than fearless. They were powerful in ways I’ve never seen. Charm, speed, strength—they had more depth and breadth than any of us, even Snow.”

  “The fear draw acts as a link between succubus and votary,” Lipe said. “That’s its true power. The link.”

  “When we speak of courage here, it isn’t in the classical sense,” Robin said. “It’s less a measure of one’s resistance to fear so much as the ability to keep sane in a world prone to drive the conscious mind batty. There exists between the outside world and our inner thoughts a boundary, a wall of blitheness. Without this, we would fret over every danger we perceive.”

  “Sorry. I’m still not following you.” Benson looked from Robin to Lipe.

  Robin made a broad gesture, encompassing the room. “The air here is breathable, yes? But what keeps it so? Who says from one breath to the next the nitrogen-oxygen levels haven’t dropped enough to kill you? And what of the sky above us? Do you ever think that there exists nothing between us and the proverbial soul-sucking darkness of space? There’s no roof up there, just air and gravity. And what of germs, Benson? Did you know a significant amount of your body mass is bacteria? What are they doing right now? What are they eating? Where are they shitting?”

  “Oh.” Benson’s face had gone slack while Robin spoke. He looked ill.

  “These fear-drawn strip their victims of this mental shield. They tear down the wall, exposing them to all the horrors their minds might devise. And when these defenseless people are rife with every horrid thing they’ve ever been afraid of, the Breathers give them more. They torture them, expose them to terrors we can hardly comprehend sitting here in our cushy chairs. And they make certain, without a doubt, that their victims know them, and know them well.”

  “And then they become Breather votaries,” Anna said in a whisper. Was her family in such a place? Did Melody know? Had she been complicit in putting them there?

  “Exactly,” Lipe said.

  “I never thought for one—” Robin began but cut off when her voice broke. “I never believed they would go so far.”

  “So, the torture with the animals, the parents,” Satterfield said, “that was part of this fear link?”

  “Priming the pump,” Lipe said. “I’d say they plan to sock Emily away in their fear factory. Torturing those close to her simply initiated the fear link. Lord must have wanted her for himself.”

  “How long have we known about the fear draw?” Anna asked.

  “It’s ancient,” Robin said. “Where do you think expressions like take courage come from? There have always been tales of evil kings and tyrants who locked votaries away in dungeons or towers. But I thought they were cautionary fictions like the Tower of Babel.”

  “But if there were always people who could use it, what kept them from it?” Benson asked.

  Robin gave him a mirthless smile. “Society. This draw requires training, more so than any other. Few began using it naturally. In the past, elders taught it only to select members of our kind, knights of a sort, those who could be trusted to use it with equanimity.”

  “Not sadistic bastards who enjoy torturing small animals,” Lipe said.

  “What about my sister?” All the way back to Ca
mp Den, Anna had avoided thinking of Melody, focusing instead on the road, on Matt, and getting to safety. Now she could think of little else.

  “Brainwashed, obviously,” Robin said. “You felt Lord’s charm. I’m sorry, Carver, but she is his creature until we find a way to free her.”

  Anna remembered the look Melody had given her as she left, following Lord. Was she under that murderer’s spell? Or had she some inkling of what she had done?

  “They’re ramping up to something,” Lipe said.

  “What do you mean, Gunny?” Benson looked pale, the ramifications of their debrief seeming to finally penetrate his thick skull.

  “Like Robin said, the fear draw has been around for ages. And the Indrawn Breath has been exploiting it for some time. But until now, they never took more than a handful of succubi every year. They’ve increased their take beyond sustainability. There aren’t enough succubi in the U.S. for them to keep this up long.”

  “How do we stop them?” Satterfield asked, her voice low, intense.

  “We train,” Lipe said. “We act as a team, we strike where we can, and hide when we must.”

  “The best we can do is continue winning more of our kind to our side,” Robin said. “There are hundreds of thousands of succubi in America, millions around the world. We must convince them that the American Society has broken down, that we have to fight to win it back.”

  Would such an argument have worked on Anna six weeks ago? Hell, a day ago? Short answer: no. The average slinker didn’t give two shits what happened to Society—bunch of snooty, holier-than-thou succubi who thought their money and their votaries made them rulers over their fellows with less of both. Talking wouldn’t make a bit of difference to the lower class. And Anna had a feeling much of the upper class, those who had positions in Society before the Indrawn Breath took over, and retained them now, were unlikely to give that up for a life of struggle against their peers.

  Anna had been shortsighted when she imagined learning all she could at Camp Den only to escape and somehow save her family. More than shortsighted, stupid. But that didn’t mean she wanted to fight a losing battle any more than some fat cat Wall Street incubus did. The air smelled about the same on both sides of the Society tracks these days: rotten.

  “That won’t work,” Anna said.

  Robin, who had gone on to another topic, stopped mid-sentence to fix Anna with a sterile gaze. “Pardon me, dear?”

  “What you said a minute ago about winning succubi to our side,” Anna said. “It won’t work. Slinkers like me aren’t interested in your war. They don’t own it, and you can’t make them buy it—not without charm—blasting them the way you’re doing us. But can you do that to every succubus in America? I mean, is that your plan?”

  “Carver,” Lipe said in his command voice, his words spiked with all the charm he could likely muster, “you will show Director Ambrose due respect.”

  “You should calm down.” Robin added her charm to the gunny’s, urging Anna to relax, to shut her mouth.

  Anna clenched. “No.”

  Robin squared her shoulders, her focus like a magnified sunbeam bent on setting Anna ablaze. “I said calm down. Do you even recall what has you so upset?”

  “Stop it.” Anna stood, body trembling with the effort of her resistance. “I will not forget. I will not relent. I’ve had enough of you people clouding my mind. It ends now.”

  She dropped her clench and drew charm—all she could muster. More than the gunny would ever have. Maybe more than Snow. She had no plan. She drew by reflex and the desire to have her powers at the ready should she need them.

  It took several seconds for Anna to realize the others hadn’t moved. Though alert, Robin watched her with frozen eyes. The director’s mouth hung open as if she wanted to say something, but the words had hit a roadblock in her throat. She blasted Anna with charm in an all-out effort to thwart her control. But failed.

  Lipe sat likewise frozen, as did Satterfield and Benson. Their eyes trembled in their sockets.

  Anna had snared them. They were in her thrall. The skin on the backs of her thighs tingled with goosebumps at the realization.

  She could leave—walk out the door and start running. But no, that had failed the last time. And even if she escaped, even if she managed to remain free for longer than a few days, what then? Camp Den would still be here, as would the Indrawn Breath. Slinkers like her would still be under the cleated boots of these sorts of people.

  Anna tightened her hold on Robin, seizing the older woman more fully in a web of charm that kept her immobile without stealing her volition.

  “What you’re doing here at Den is wrong. It was wrong when Society did it, and it’s wrong now.” Anna stared into Robin’s enraged eyes. “I’m going to let you go in a minute, and you’ll probably have me locked away in a cell. But not before you hear me out.

  “Until a few weeks ago, I wasn’t sure Society even existed. And yet, I was afraid of it. Afraid enough to fear drawing. Afraid enough to fear making close connections with anyone besides my family. No one should live that way, Robin. No one.

  “And then you brought me here. You told me that Society had fallen and that now I had to fight to put it back the way it was. Why? So people like you, some elitists I’d never heard of, could lord it over people like me? Don’t you see that the succubi you’ve gathered here, all these slinkers, they’re powerful, Robin? More so than you imagined, I bet. We’re a resource, a well of allies. One you’re wasting by forcing us to your will. That’s the same tactic Society has always used. And you’re a damned fool for adopting it.”

  Anna released her charm. She couldn’t have held it much longer anyway. Staggering on weakened legs, she narrowly managed to plop back into her chair without sprawling on the carpet.

  Robin staggered as well but managed to keep her feet. She planted both hands on the desk before her, panting, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead.

  “Benson, Satterfield,” Lipe said, “restrain Carver.”

  “No.” Robin held up one hand. “Leave her.”

  Anna met the director’s gaze without flinching. She had come too far to back down now.

  All fell quiet in the conference room, save for the ubiquitous sound of central air humming through vents.

  At last, Robin broke the silence. “You’re right, Carver.”

  “What?” Anna doubted her ears. She sat up straight, trying to decipher just what Robin had said.

  Robin heaved a sigh, pulled out her chair, and wilted into it. She looked suddenly older, a woman sagging under burdens unseen. “Matt told me the same thing five years ago when we first laid our plans for this place. He said we needed a fresh start, a break from the past. I feared…”

  “You feared what? That you couldn’t trust slinkers? That we wouldn’t help you unless you enslaved us?”

  Robin shook her head, her shoulders slumped, her face all but defeated. “No. I feared you’d give us away to my husband.”

  11

  Of Geeks and Votaries

  Anna, Satterfield, and Benson traded looks.

  “My ex-husband is Senator Jason Kraft.” Robin looked like a woman who just discovered mold in her soup.

  “Wait,” Satterfield said. “That’s the guy pushing for us to invade Mexico.”

  “Yes,” Robin said. “He’s chairman of the Homeland Security and Governmental Affairs Committee. He’s also the leader of the Indrawn Breath.”

  “Holy shit,” Benson said.

  “We’re fighting your ex?” Anna had never heard of this Kraft guy, which wasn’t surprising. She paid little attention to politics.

  “We’re fighting an organization,” Lipe said. “One that views regular humans as nothing but batteries, and slinkers as little better.”

  “But why the Mexico thing?” Satterfield asked. “All the rhetoric says we need to take out the drug cartels. But if these guys want control over succubi in the U.S., shouldn’t they be focused here?”

  Rob
in glanced at Lipe, who nodded.

  “Short answer,” Robin said. “Vampires.”

  Anna felt like someone had slapped her face. “You’re joking.”

  “There are vampires in Mexico?” Benson looked as gobsmacked as Anna felt.

  “Yes,” Lipe said. “They run the drug cartels.”

  “Wait.” Anna held up both hands. “Are you serious? We’re talking blood-drinking monsters here? Vampires are a real thing?”

  “Yes,” Robin said. “As real as you or I. Vampires are a type of succubus—our cousins if you will. We draw through familiarity. They draw through blood ties.”

  “And your ex wants to attack them?” Satterfield appeared to be taking this revelation in stride.

  “It’s complex, but yes,” Robin said. “Society—at least our version of Society—has a long-standing agreement with the coven kingdoms, the allied vampire clans, that boils down to this: we do not interfere with their business, and in return, they maintain vampire populations under a strict cap within the United States and Canada. It’s a unique arrangement unlike anything seen throughout succubus societies around the world. It’s kept the peace between us and vampire kind for generations.”

  “There’s more than one Society?” Anna looked from Robin to Lipe and back again, agog.

  “Yes,” Lipe said. “That’s part of the problem. Most nations have their own version of Society. European Society is particularly powerful. They have long striven to keep North American Society in check. And they’ve succeeded by striking separate bargains with the vampires.”

  “If our Society begins seizing power on a world stage, the vampires will abandon the treaty,” Robin said.

  “It’s a vampire-succubus cold war,” Satterfield said, her eyes wide. “And Kraft wants to launch a preemptive strike by taking out the vampires threatening his southern border.”

  “Exactly,” Robin said. “If the Indrawn Breath mobilizes American forces against them, the vampires will have two choices. They can either fight a limited war, careful to avoid exposure to the humans, or they can back down. Like us, they have strict laws forbidding their kind from divulging their existence to the world at large.”