by Ari Thatcher
With any luck he wouldn’t ask what she meant. Most people didn’t understand the feeling she got sometimes when making a decision. She had no emotional attachment to the choice, but she knew in her gut what she was supposed to do. Like moving into this house. Not fate, but definitely predestined. She just couldn’t explain the difference between the two.
Sin tried to focus on what had caused the shadow she’d seen. Light coming through the curtains could cause the appearance of movement, but not on a gray day like today. She switched on the lone lamp in the small bedroom. As if the falling snow were a solid blanket smothering the house, daylight was quickly fading.
The sound of his slight movements reminded her Gower stood nearby. She turned and smiled apologetically. “Excuse me, but I need to get back to moving my aunt's stuff so I can unpack.”
Moving past him toward the bedroom across the hall, she tried to ignore the strangely erotic smell of clean cotton and wind clinging to him. Hadn’t he worked up a sweat dealing with the boiler? He should smell like old socks or a locker room. Why was it the harder she worked at not noticing the man, the deeper he encroached on her senses?
As if he heard her thoughts, he was suddenly in her way. She stopped just shy of plowing into him and looked up, tilting her head. His nostrils flared. Could he smell her arousal? God, how embarrassing! “Is there, uh, something you wanted?” Please let him say my body.
The corner of his mouth lifted. The tip of his tongue wiped slowly across his full lower lip. Unable to help herself, Sin parted her lips and inhaled. She wavered on her feet, leaning slightly closer. Just a taste, that’s all she wanted. A quick kiss.
What was she doing? She snapped her mouth closed and tore her gaze from his lips. She was not going to kiss a stranger.
Chapter Two
But he had other ideas. He grasped her chin, lifting her face to his. Leaned in and hovered over her lips. The heat of his breath warmed her even before he touched her mouth.
The kiss wasn’t quick, if she judged by the butterflies squirming in her stomach, the dampness between her thighs. She began to pant as she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him still closer. What little control she retained kept her from wrapping her leg around his hips and rolling him onto the bed.
Gower slowly pulled back after planting a kiss on her nose. His eyes burned with passion, battling with her resolve not to seduce him. Touching her fingertips to her throbbing lips, she turned away. The desire he wakened in her almost washed away the awareness she kissed a man she didn’t know, which could put her in situations she had no escape from. She needed to be sure to make it clear it wouldn’t happen again.
Voices twittered from the vents in the floor. The men downstairs sounded like a couple of schoolgirls. She was losing her mind. In her efforts to block the male species from her radar, her mind was emasculating them. Who’d have thought her subconscious would work that hard to keep her from getting involved again?
Gathering another armload of housedresses, she climbed the stairs to the attic and pushed open the door. A chill breeze cut through her sweater, sending goose bumps scattering. There had to be a crack in a windowpane, allowing in the storm. She mentioned it to Gower when he entered carrying more old clothes and he promised to check.
More whispers followed her back to the bedroom, seeming to move from vent to vent, growing hushed when she stepped in the closet. She looked up to grab the next bundle and stopped at what she saw. The pole was full of clothes again. Was Gower bringing them back down? A laugh escaped her. She wanted a reason not to be attracted. Undoing her work would take care of it.
Shaking off her suspicions, she reached up and once again she was awash in the scent of lily of the valley. “Aunt Absinthe, I’m sure you’re here, but you have to know you’ve moved on. This is my room now and I need to put away my clothes.”
She questioned Gower as she passed him again. “You didn’t take those clothes back into my room did you?”
He parked his fists on his hips and glared down at her. “Why would I do that, when you were taking them to the attic?”
“Hmm,” was all she could come up with in response. Up in the attic, she set the dresses on a pile of boxes.
The next trip out of the closet was almost literally a trip as her foot again caught on something solid. She twisted to see around the garments she held. Tucked beside the doorjamb was a carved teakwood trunk, slightly larger than a jewelry box. She nudged it aside, then returned to it after taking the last of the clothes upstairs.
She didn’t know how she had missed kicking it so many times, jutting out into the doorway the way it did. Come to think of it, she must have knocked it there, or the door wouldn’t have opened. Curious, she grabbed the gold handles on either side and carried it out into the light.
Setting it on the bed, Sin sat down and blew the dust off the lid before opening it. There was a hasp closure, but no lock. It creaked as she lifted the tongue and the hinges groaned of time passage. She was uncertain what she expected to find inside, but the reality was light years away from anything she could have imagined.
Tucked in the back was a small packet of letters tied with a red ribbon. A small blue satin prayer book lay across something wrapped in a white embroidered handkerchief. A locket of hair filled a translucent vellum envelope. She set aside the prayer book and letters and lifted out the small bundle.
A newspaper article at the bottom of the box caught her eye. With gentle fingers, she held it up to the lamp to read. The obituary spoke of a man who had died more than sixty years ago. His name didn’t ring a bell, but as she scanned the text she got the answer to several of her questions. Adam Policek, the decedent, had been engaged to her great-aunt Absinthe.
The letters all had his return address. She wondered if the hair was his, and a shiver coursed over her skin at the thought. She couldn’t imagine running her fingers over the hair of a long-dead boyfriend.
Sin picked up the bundle and warily turned it over in her hands. Part of her was certain she would find a shriveled toe or some other gruesome memento, like those filling the attic in her childhood. Yet her curiosity was stronger than her dread. She peeled back the handkerchief.
Cotton wadding surrounded something firm. Rolling the item over, she found the opening and pulled it back. A carved piece of stone nested inside.
She turned the stone into her hand, studying it. An electric shock stabbed up her arm. She shrieked and dropped the object on the featherbed. In the center of her palm a round, red burn grew darker as she watched. “What the…?”
Using the wadding as a hot pad, she turned the stone this way and that. It was oblong, rounder in the middle, with what looked like thick legs carved on one end. Flipping it, she jerked back at what she saw.
The carving was female, with full breasts and rounded belly. A fertility icon of some sort.
Something shuffled across the floor above her head. She hoped it was Gower, not a rodent. Just as she thought of him, he looked in the room.
“What do you have there?”
If Gower was there, who was in the attic? As she finished the thought, a heavy dark mist crept into her peripheral vision and when she held up her hand to show him the burn, the room went black.
Gower reached her just before she planted her face on the wood floorboards. Yanking her arm, he stopped her fall then gathered her up and laid her on the bed. What could have caused her to pass out? Low blood sugar? Was she ill? He noticed the small carving lying next to some mementos on the bed and reached for it. Sandstone, by the look of it. When he picked it up he recognized it from something he’d read long ago. An icon to the demon Suthu. An evil version of the succubus.
Why would Sin, or any woman, own something like that? At one time, Gower had transported dangerous fetishes for an archeologist, and as far as he knew, none of the ancient artifacts from the Mediterranean island of Ueru had been brought to the United States. The legends surrounding Suthu described the demon as a black widow of
sorts. It was one of the most bloodthirsty—and sex-hungry—demons.
He tossed the icon into the wooden box along with the other items and set them on the dresser. Then he stretched Sin’s legs out and drew the quilt over her. As he held a hand to the back of her neck, checking her temperature, he recalled a situation a few centuries back where some Ueruan icons had appeared in the lustier districts of London. Several whores had been possessed by the demons who’d been cast into the icons in a time before Christ. Two members of the aristocracy had been among their victims, their bodies ripped apart in a fashion that made Jack the Ripper look tame.
He should call Marrett and see what he knew about the icons. And why one would have ended up in Whispering Valley. The man knew more about the occult than anyone in the valley, and possibly in the country. And what he didn’t know, he was quick to find out. Marrett had also been a friend of George Crawford, Sin’s great-grandfather, who collected artifacts from around the world dealing with death and dying. Hopfully, he’d have the answer they needed.
Sin didn’t move on the bed, her breathing steady but otherwise not showing any sign of life. What had happened to her? He tapped her cheeks. “Sin. Wake up.”
No reaction.
Growing increasingly concerned, Gower ran downstairs. He found his brothers in the kitchen. “Something’s wrong with Sin. She passed out.”
Baen’s head snapped up. “You didn’t feed on her, did you?”
“Fuck, no. She cried out and when I checked on her, she fainted.”
“What could have happened?” Enos pushed through the door to the living room and hit the stairs ahead of his brothers. Taking them two at a time, he cleared the landing, crossed the large bedroom and went to Sin’s side, reaching for her wrist. Gower followed close behind with Baen trailing after.
After a moment, Enos spoke. “Her pulse is steady. Color is good.”
Gower lifted her other arm. Her lax hand was palm up, and in the center was a huge blister. “What the fuck…?”
Baen stepped closer and took her hand. “What did she burn herself on?”
Gower glanced at the nightstand and dresser but there was nothing heat conductive. The closet door stood open, beckoning. He walked over and peered around the door.
The pole was packed with dresses, the same pastel, flowery ones she’d taken up to the attic. No wonder she asked if he’d brought them back down. A heavy, sweet perfume drifted beneath his nose. It smelled nothing like Sin. He’d never paid attention to how the aunt had smelled but could imagine her perfume lingered on her clothes. As often as he and his brothers had been in the house to help Absinthe, he couldn’t recall anything unusual happening.
Yet the bedroom felt alive, filled with a vibrant energy of its own. He’d swear it was sexual tension, many times more powerful than what he’d felt when they’d kissed. Closing his eyes, he opened his mind to the energy. By focusing on the room through his third eye, he saw a brilliant green mist trailing from Sin’s open palm to the wooden box on the dresser.
Blinking, he studied the box, the mist now gone. In two steps he was at the dresser, sorting through the envelopes and oddities. Beneath it all, he found the carved icon wrapped in a handkerchief and gingerly lifted it in his hand. “What do you guys know about Suthu?”
Baen looked down at the woman on the bed. “Suthu,” he echoed.
“Shit,” said Enos.
“Yeah, Suthu, shit,” Gower agreed.
“You think it got her?”
“You think we can beat it? Without getting her killed?”
“Her?” Enos argued. “What about us?”
Gower put the icon down and turned around, leaning his butt against the low dresser. “Anyone who’s not up for this can leave now and try to beat the blizzard home.”
“As if that’s a choice.” Enos paced near the foot of the bed. “Freeze my ass off or burn my dick off. Let’s see, which do I prefer?”
“Shit,” Baen agreed, “it could end up being both.”
“Yeah, it could. Or we can all walk away now. It’s not our problem.” Gower watched his brothers as if expecting an argument.
“You know that’s not gonna happen. Not when it’s Sin. We just found her after more than a century of waiting.” Enos combed his fingers through his hair. “What do we have to do? How do we cast out the demon?”
“I have no idea.”
“Can we call Marrett? He can tell us how to get rid of the demon, can’t he?” Enos asked.
Baen already had his cell phone in his hand. “No signal. Imagine that. Fuckin’ cell towers.” He walked back to Sin, picked up her hand and studied the burn. “We should put something on this. You think the demon got inside her?”
“I’m not sure.” Gower shifted his weight and looked down at the carving. “I never heard how the demon gets in the icon, so I’ve no clue how it gets out.”
“Well, we need to figure something out. What do we know about Suthu?” Baen asked.
“Other than she fucks men, then kills them?” Enos parked a hip on the edge of the bed nearest the door. “I never asked. It’s not one of those things you think you’ll need to know two centuries down the road. I remember reading about it when Jack the Ripper was littering the streets of London.”
Sin shifted her feet and rolled on her side before her eyes fluttered open. Gower hurried to her. “Sin? How are you feeling?”
From a corner of the ceiling, Sin looked down on the action below her. Was she dead? Her body lay motionless, yet the men said she had a pulse. How did she end up like this, and how the hell could she get back inside her body?
“Gower, I’m here,” she called down but no one reacted. “Hey!”
Waving her legs got her nowhere, not an inch closer to her body. She pushed against the ceiling, but her hands passed through the dark-stained wood. What the hell had happened to her?
When her body began to stir on the bed, Sin waited to be pulled back in, or whatever it was called. But it was as if her body had a mind of its own. As it sat up and stretched, an odd sensation washed through her. Lust, hunger and a powerful urge to kill.
Kill?
Below, her body turned toward Enos and smiled, licking her lips. “Don’t you look delicious.” Crawling across the bed, she reached for his belt.
Enos jumped up and backed away. “Fuck, Suthu got her all right!”
“How do we destroy the demon?” Gower also stepped out of reach.
Sin called out again. “Who is Suthu? What do you mean, he has me?”
No one answered. She shoved against the wall behind her with a grunt but didn’t move. On the bed, her body pulled off her t-shirt and tossed it on the floor. As Sin watched, it became clear this Suthu-being controlled her body. What the fuck?
“Come on, guys, let’s have some fun.” On her knees, Suthu popped the button on her jeans and dragged the zipper down, nibbling her lower lip as she eyed the men. Her grinding pelvis rivaled a stripper’s moves.
“Careful, guys,” Gower said. “This isn’t going to be an easy fight.”
“No shit.” Baen adjusted the crotch of his pants.
Down to her bra and panties, Suthu looked straight at Baen, plucking her bra straps off her shoulders one at a time. She reached back and popped the hooks, her other hand holding the cups in place. “You know you want me.”
She let the bra drop.
Sin looked on in shock. She felt her heavy breasts swell, her nipples tingle, but couldn’t force her arms to cover her flesh. Good God, she had to stop herself—her body—before this got any crazier. “But how do I stop it?”
“You can’t.” Her aunt’s voice came to her from a few feet to her left. The woman hovered, much as Sin did, just below the ceiling. “You can’t get your body back until Suthu decides to leave.”
“But look what she’s doing. No, don’t look!” Embarrassment heated Sin’s cheeks at the realization her aunt could see what was happening as clearly as she could. Her naked, fleshy body moved like a ca
t in heat.
Suthu had her thumbs inside her panties and was inching them down one side at a time. “Who gets to go first, hmm?”
“Gower, what’s the plan? We need to do something while we still have the power.” Enos rubbed the back of his neck as if that was the part of his body that needed attention.
Enos and Baen both had bulges in their pants. Gower had his back to Sin, so she couldn’t tell for certain, but she assumed he did, too. She squelched the part of her that said he’d better. She didn’t want to know how much they were enjoying her body. Watching the whole scene made her feel squeamish.
Gower wiped his hand down his face. “The only way I’ve heard of a demon leaving a body is when the body died.”
“What?” Sin’s shrieked question was echoed by the brothers.
“There’s another way,” Aunt Absinthe said softly. “Suthu went back in the fetish after she killed my fiance.”
She studied her aunt, wondering if she understood the implication correctly. Either Sin had to die or the men did. The fetish had to be one of the things Great-Aunt Absinthe’s father had brought back from wherever he traveled. What had freed it in the first place?
An odd noise somewhere between a purr and a growl came from Suthu as she approached Enos. Her hand cupped his groin and she leaned in to bite his neck. He grabbed her shoulders and shoved. “Fuck, guys, what do we do? Somebody think of something.”
The demon lashed out, her nails slashing Gower’s cheek. He spun away and Sin saw his eyes glow red. He hissed, and his canine teeth lengthened.
“What…?” Sin’s brain hazed over, no longer wanting to see what was happening. “He’s a—”
“Vampire. All three are,” her aunt finished. “This might be your answer. I wish I had thought of that years ago. Maybe the demon can’t kill them.”
Sin blinked. Focus. She became aware that her pussy was wet, responding to the seduction the demon attempted. Suthu toyed with her breasts, pinching and tugging her nipples. A pale hand dragged over her paler, rounded belly and between her legs, her hips rocking forward.