by T. M. Hart
It was naive of me, but I had written off our last encounter as an initial error. Something I had not been expecting. He had gotten the better of me. I had told myself it would not happen a second time. Yet here I was immersed in him once again.
However, this time there almost seemed to be a faint spark of something . . . something different, buried under it all. Something I hadn't noticed the last time. The flicker was so brief, though, that it was impossible to focus on it.
It didn't matter. The overwhelming need and desire eclipsed all else. And in bearing witness to it, it became my own. I cried out, the assault of longing crippling.
He tightened his grip on my chin and squeezed his arm around my waist. My back was crushed against him. Then he ground his lips against my cheek as he spoke. "I do not know what witchery you play at. But it will not work. You waste your energy."
I grappled for strength. For some semblance of control. For power. "I will kill you," I gritted between my teeth.
A humorless laugh was my reply. He spun me around grabbing my upper arms in a bruising grip and shook me. "Then do it," he challenged.
The ice blue of his eyes sparked in the darkness. The air around us vibrated. Again, he wore a black shirt, open in the front. Trying to escape the hold he had on me, I shifted my gaze to his chest. He was perfect. His skin was flawless, and each muscle was highly defined. There was something like a black tattoo over his left pectoral though. His shirt was covering most of it and I only saw a brief glance.
I desperately needed to get away from him. To put some distance between us. I could not control my impulses. I remembered how he had vanished after kissing me before. How he had rejected me. I prayed that he would again. Because I knew I would lack the strength to break away from whatever this was.
Looking back up into his perfect features, I broke free from his grasp. I grabbed the back of his neck with one hand, clawing my nails into his skin just below his dark hair. With my other hand, I fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him down to me.
Only this time, he didn't push me away. This time, he kissed me back. Over and over again I parted my lips for him, unable to get enough of his kiss. I moaned in despair. I was lost. It was over. There was nothing to me. I was want and need. That was all I was. All I would ever be. And he was it. In that moment he was everything. There was nothing else. Only him.
In that moment, I would do anything for him.
And that realization was enough to shatter the spell I was under. From somewhere I didn't know existed, I pulled. I gathered this unknown strength I had–this unknown strength I never thought I'd need—and I wrenched myself away from him with an agonized moan, driving my fist into his face.
The blow barely affected him. He stood there. Chest billowing—hands flexing and clenching at his sides. But the blue of his eyes was completely consumed by black.
He grabbed my face with one hand, digging his fingers into each side of my jaw. A dark angel. That was what he was. What he must be. He was too perfect. He was shaking. His jaw clenched so tightly I thought it would shatter.
"Leave. If you stay, I will bury you here. You will know only a pit of darkness for the rest of your existence." Each word had been a monumental task.
He stared at me for a moment with what looked like contempt. At my lips. My hair. My skin. My eyes. He drew in a deep breath and with a determination I had never witnessed from another, he let go of my face.
Moving his hand away inch by agonizing inch. It was as though each fraction of a retreat was pure torture. Then he turned his back and walked away from me towards the suite doors, fading away into the shadows of the room as he left.
Along with the undeniable lust, I felt raw anger. I was infuriated that he had made me feel this way. That he of all people, could affect me as no one else had.
I had wished and prayed to be able to experience desire and lust. And now I had . . . at the hands of a monster. It only proved all the more that something was wrong with me. And I vowed I would kill him for it.
"I'm not going anywhere," I hissed after him.
Just before the slamming of the door I heard a low growl. "You will leave. Tomorrow."
I took a shuddering breath trying, in vain, to compose myself. Then I flung my hands out towards both fireplaces lighting warm crackling fires before stumbling my way to one of the bookshelves in the room.
I had seen a section of books dealing with various beings from folklore and mythology. Running my hand over the old leathery spines, I found one on demons. I flipped through the brittle pages praying to find what I was looking for. And finally, towards the back of the book, I did.
I studied the sketched image at the top of the page, searching for some connection, some type of confirmation.
A woman lay haphazardly on a bed. One arm above her head. Hair splayed about. She was completely open. Vulnerable. Exposed. The thin nightgown she wore displayed every curve and valley of her body. Although she was supposed to be sleeping, she looked more as though under a spell.
Looming above her was a dark figure. He was shirtless with arms and wings outstretched. There was a sinister air to his presence, but it was difficult to discern specific feature. He was hazy, dreamlike, seeming to blend in with the background. And under the sketch in Gothic script was printed: INCUBUS
According to the tome, an incubus was a male demon who visited sleeping women. The incubus would seduce a woman in her sleep and engage in sexual activity with her. Although there was not a specific quality that attracted them, they tended to focus their attentions upon one mate at a time preferring to revisit her alone until her vitality was drained which would result in death for mortals and any manner of psychosis for immortals.
There was no mention of the effect incubi had on a woman while awake. But perhaps they possessed the same seductive qualities.
I had never met one nor seen one. I was vaguely aware of their existence, and I did not know anything about them. The tome did not provide much information. There was no mention of how to stop an incubus. But I believed a witch might be able to conjure up a protective spell.
That had to be what he was—why I felt so powerless against these feelings.
I retreated to my bedroom, surveying the space for any signs of his presence. But as far as I could sense, he had not invaded the privacy of this room. Grabbing my phone, I forced myself to calm down.
When I heard the click on the other end of the line, I didn't wait for a greeting. "I need a vehicle," I demanded.
"I will be there in twenty minutes," came Maxim's smooth reply.
"I don't need a ride," I ground out. "I need my own vehicle."
"I will be there in twenty minutes," Maxim repeated. And then he hung up . . . The son of a bitch hung up on me.
◆◆◆
I glared. I blazed. I seethed.
Maxim wasn’t bothered in the slightest. Or at least, he acted like he wasn’t. He just continued to drive ahead, eyes and attention focused on the bumpy dirt path.
“You’re really going to try and tell me that there are no other vehicles for use in the area.”
Maxim nodded. “That’s correct.”
“Are Tweedledee and Tweedledum going to be tailing us once we reach the main road again?”
“Yes.”
“Then I can take their car and they can ride with you.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“You know you’re incredibly irritating. You know that, right?”
Instead of replying, Maxim simply shrugged.
“When can you supply a vehicle for me? I will need one for my personal use which remains at the manor.”
“I have been informed by Barrister Corbett that there are none available for use at this time.”
I wasn’t stupid. I knew what was going on. I knew that I was purposefully being denied access to a vehicle. Just like Maxim was purposefully stalling in arranging a visit to the Shadow Court.
It didn’t matter, though.
Maxim had agreed to take me back into town, and that was all I needed at the moment. One way or another I would lose him once we arrived. I would kick his legs out from under him if I had to.
I turned to look out my window, watching the dark forms of the oak trees as we drove past. From somewhere out there in the darkness, I felt like I was being watched. The feeling crawled across my skin, and I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders.
We reached the main street and it was just as it had been the other night. Gas lamps aglow, a few pedestrians strolling in and out of shops along the cobblestone street, and some random chickens milling about. Except this evening, the front door of the Screaming Banshee was boarded up and the wooden sign that had hung above the door had been removed.
Apparently, Maxim had smoothed things over with the witnesses from my little . . . encounter. What he had said or done, he hadn’t shared. And I didn’t ask about the fate of the pub owner. I couldn’t. Maxim was already helping me out of our vehicle and I was rattling my brain for a way to lose him. I still hadn’t come up with a plan.
I didn’t want to resort to violence. Maxim had been decent to me, and I needed an ally. I didn’t think he would be too happy if I kicked his ass in the middle of this little village. And then there were his goons I would have to deal with as well. Rheneas and Stefan had parked just behind us and were standing in front of their vehicle scanning the street.
Maxim already sounded irritated as he shut the door behind me. He had thought I called this evening because I wanted to leave the Dark Manor and return to the Radiant Court. At least that had clearly been his hope.
Whether it was because he was purely concerned about my safety at the manor or because he didn’t want to babysit me any longer, I didn’t know. But he had obviously been surprised this evening—and then disappointed—when he found out I had merely wanted to return to town and was not fleeing the Shadow countryside.
“If you have come here with a pub visit in mind, there is the inn just behind the alley. They serve mead and wine. However, please be aware now that despite the impoliteness of it, you will indeed be drinking alone.”
“Actually, I just want to visit that vegetable stand,” I replied gesturing across the street to the small cart with twinkling lights.
A little of the tension in Maxim’s shoulders eased, and without another word he began to escort me towards it. My eyes darted around searching for a way to stall, desperately seeking an excuse to leave him behind.
We were halfway across the little thoroughfare when I decided I would need to take another approach. Maybe if I got Maxim and the goons settled at the inn, I could ditch them there. “Um, never mind,” I began, “I, ah, don’t think they have what I’m looking for. You were right, I’d rather—”
But I didn’t finish my sentence because at that moment everything around me froze. Maxim paused mid step, becoming still as a statue. The few other pedestrians who had been ambling about halted as well. The flames flickering in the gas lamps which lined the street all stilled. And even the light breeze sweeping through the night became inert.
From the old trailer parked behind the vegetable stand, a young woman emerged. She waved me over, clearly beckoning me to hurry. “C’mon, I can’t hold them for long,” she admonished. Her Bronx accent threw me for a moment, but I scurried over to her just the same and darted through the camper entry.
Although the trailer was clearly old, the exterior was freshly painted in color blocks of white, gray, and teal. I had expected the interior to be a little less retro chic and a little more dark and ominous–based on who she was. However, I was surprised to find more bright cheery colors inside. There was a new laminate floor, newly upholstered furniture, and even a sparkly little chandelier hanging from the ceiling which lit the space with a cozy glow.
“I’m damn powerful when it comes to time. But I can’t hold an entire street frozen for long. We got to make this quick.” She pointed at the compact dining table. “First payment. And let me tell you. Power like this ain’t cheap.”
From my clutch I procured five hundred pounds and laid it on the table.
The witch pursed her lips together and snatched up the bills. “Okurrrp,” she said as she tucked the bills into her bra. It was like she was saying okay while using a funny little chirping sound.
With a flick of her fingers she procured a business card out of thin air. Then she placed it on the table in front of me. I picked it up and felt the buzz of fresh magic on it. It read:
Belcalis
Time Mage and general practitioner for all your Wiccan needs.
“It’s pronounced BELL-ka-leez,” she said with a pop of her hip, and I could feel a tremor of magic in her name alone.
I looked over at her. She was average height with black shoulder length hair that was parted on the side in big waves. She had flawless caramel skin, large brown eyes, and full lips that were glossy. An array of studs lined her one visible ear, and she wore a short white dress that had multiple straps crossing over her shoulders and around her neck.
“So why are you here?” she asked.
“How did you know I needed to see you?” I replied.
She smacked her lips together making a tsking sound. “Gurl, you reeked of desperation. It stunk up my camper so fast, I had to stop time just to get a chance to air it out.” Her face was scrunched up at the recollection.
“Sorry about that,” I tried, feeling as though it was too little too late.
When Maxim had brought me into town the other evening, I had noticed the small pentagram carved above her camper door. It was why I had wanted to patronize her vegetable stand. I needed a witch’s help.
“Look. What I got goin’ on out there ain’t no small feat. So you better start explaining what you need. Otherwise your investment will go to waste,” she said gesturing to her bra where she had stored the cash.
“I need a spell to ward off an incubus,” I told her.
Her eyebrows rose. “You got one visiting you?”
I eyed the floor. “Yes.”
“I hate to tell you,” she replied, “but if that’s the case. Gurl, you could be pregnant.” She eyed my abdomen. “You want me to do a scan?”
I nodded.
“It’s an extra hundred,” she warned.
I opened my clutch and placed another bill on the table.
Without warning, the witch waved her hand across my hips. I braced myself for the worst.
But a look of confusion crossed her face. “You ain’t got no incubus troubles! If you’d been with one of em, you’d have some—ah—evidence in you, if you understand my meaning. You as dry as the Mojave Desert in those terms. In fact,” she waved her hand across my hips again. Her eyes widened before squinting almost shut and pursing her lips. “Gurl, please. You a virgin!”
I could feel the heat begin to flame across my face. But Belcalis lifted her hands up as if trying to not cast judgement. “Hey, it don’t matter that you are, but I can tell you that you ain’t been compromised by no incubus.”
I fought the urge to cross my arms over my waist. “Well I’m living with one,” I told her. “And I think it’s just a matter of time. I want something to stop the dreams. And I need something that will prevent any influence from him during waking hours as well.”
Belcalis pursed her lips. “Honey, what you describing don’t sound like no incubus. If you been living with one, trust me, you’d been compromised.”
“I think he might be trying to avoid me.”
Belcalis eyed me from head to toe. “I find that hard to believe. Ain’t nothin wrong wit’ you. No reason for an incubus not to knock boots wit’ you.”
“Regardless, can you give me something?”
She tilted her head. “You sure? Is this incubus hot? They usually are. Seems like you could use a little, uh, fun. No need to cock-block when you’re desperate for cock,” she said with a shrug. ”Know what I mean?”
The impulse to tell her that I was not desperate for
cock flared, but I shoved it aside. “I’m sure,” I told her.
She gave another purse of her lips and a shrug. “I can give you something to ward off this incubus, but I ain’t ever heard of their powers having any impact during waking hours. From what I know, they only get down when their mate is asleep.”
She leaned in closer. “I mean don’t get me wrong, those boys can be sexy as hell when you meet them, but the seduction they throw off ain’t nothing like when they visit in dreams.”
“I think this one is incredibly powerful. And he may have gone a long time without feeding on someone. I need something to block his powers day and night.”
Belcalis turned over her shoulder in a huff of irritation. “I know she’s a damn fool!” she snapped. “But she’s paying cash, so she’ll get what she’s asking for.” Then she turned fully around to face the shelves behind her. “You think I can keep that street frozen much longer? I need to get her fool ass outta here!”
Belcalis turned back to me with a pleasant smile plastered on her face. “Sorry about that. Don’t mind my granny. She likes to butt in from time to time. One extra strong ward for an incubus, coming right up.”
She turned to the shelves and began rummaging around through various jars, containers, baskets, and drawers. I couldn’t see or sense anyone else in the camper with us, so I assumed Belcalis was able to commune with spirits.
After pulverizing a few different items in a mortar and pestle, she said an incantation over the black powder and it turned white. Then she poured the mixture into a little cloth bag and pulled the string closed. When she turned to hand me the small bag I noticed blood was trickling out of her nose.
She saw me staring at the blood and waved her hand in dismissal. “Hittin’ my limit,” she said, words slowing. “Frozen street. Strong spell. Sucking me dry.”
She gestured to the cloth bag I now held. “This will keep any incubus away. Pour a circle of it around your bed where you sleep. He will not be able to enter your dreams.”