Drained: The Lucid

by E. L. Blaisdell

  • • •

  The front door opened and Riley stepped inside. She ran her hand over her hair to smooth down any flyaways and straightened the hem of her short nightgown, although the motion was unnecessary. Her hair and clothing were always styled to perfection in the realm.

  “I wondered if I was going to see you again.” Morgan sat alone on the couch in the living room. It was the same couch where they’d once shared a soft, fleeting kiss. A single sunbeam shone through the front window and illuminated the woman. Surrounded by the ethereal light, Riley thought she looked perfect.

  “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Riley smiled and set her bag down on the floor by the entrance.

  Morgan looked down at her hands, inspecting her cuticles. “I thought maybe I’d done something to keep you away.”

  “Like throw a backpack in my face?” Riley joked. She knew Morgan was referencing the kiss and the way Riley had rejected her, but she wasn’t ready to talk about that yet. “No. It’s just an existential crisis. Work has been weird and then there was the Amber thing.”

  “Who’s Amber?” Morgan perked up.

  Riley hadn’t meant to let the name slip. She hadn’t intended to tell Morgan anything about her life outside of the realm. She’d probably already said too much in discussing her birthday and her former humanity during their last visit.

  “She, uh, well, she’s my girlfriend. Or my ex-girlfriend.” Riley shook her head. “I don’t exactly know what we are to each other anymore to be honest.”

  “Girlfriend?” Morgan’s features clouded. “But you’re … you’re a succubus.”

  “I know what I am. That doesn’t mean I can’t have a girlfriend.”

  “But don’t you cheat on her every night?” Morgan protested. “Or, is she like you?”

  Riley grimaced. This wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have. It was pointless to talk about Amber with someone who knew nothing about their relationship. “She’s human, like you.” But she continued anyway.

  “That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard,” Morgan sputtered.

  “What’s so preposterous, Professor?” Riley snapped, feeling her anger rise. She was so tired of everyone telling her that her relationship was doomed. This latest dig felt like a giant “I Told You So.”

  “How can you expect to have a healthy relationship built on lies? Built on infidelity and subterfuge?” Morgan sounded offended on behalf of Riley’s ex-girlfriend.

  The words stung. Morgan unknowingly had tapped into the very thing Riley herself couldn’t make peace with. Amber had been using her—selling information about Trusics to supplement her meager income. She felt violated, but could she truly justify her anger when she herself had hidden so much of her own life since the start of their relationship? Did she have any moral ground on which to stand when she’d kept her very identity a secret?

  “Why are you getting so angry about this?” Riley was annoyed and flustered. “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “I know it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t feel sorry for the way you’re playing this poor woman.”

  The windowpanes rattled from a distant thunder. Lightning illuminated the clear blue sky. Riley noticed that as Morgan’s emotions became less stable, so too did the environment of the dream.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Don’t assume you know anything about me or my life.” Riley self-consciously wiped at her eyes. She felt the beginnings of tears, but there was no way she was going to cry in front of this woman.

  “You’re right. I don’t know anything about you.” Morgan folded her arms across her chest, shuttering her emotions. “All I see is some over-sexed demon, who likes to play dress up, that can’t take never for an answer. Your same requests play like a broken record.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “When am I going to have sex with you.” Morgan looked annoyed. “When are we going to hook up, go the whole nine yards, or whatever label you use in your line of work.”

  “I’m out of here,” Riley snarled. She grabbed her things in a tornado of fury. She could hear one of Darren’s glass vials jangle inside her bag, and it made her even angrier. She’d been risking her entire existence to spend more time with Morgan, but none of her efforts were appreciated. “I don’t have to take this. I don’t know why I even bothered with you. You’ve been nothing but a literal headache since the beginning,” she continued to vent. “I’ve got a database full of marks who’d be happy to get their hands on me.”

  “Database?” Morgan blinked.

  Riley’s figure went rigid when she realized the slip. “Pretend you didn’t hear that,” she choked out.

  “What is this database, Riley?” Morgan sat up straighter on the couch with renewed interest.

  “I can’t.” Riley shook her head hard. The bag in her hand felt like it contained bricks. “I’ve already told you too much.”

  Morgan slowly rose from the couch. “Then why not one more little thing?” she justified.

  “Because it’s a big fucking thing,” Riley said with heat. “Don’t ask me to ruin everything. It’s all stuff that isn’t any of your concern.”

  “When it directly involves my dreams, I want to know.” Morgan added to the distance between them. “God, you act like what you do doesn’t affect the lives of real people.” Her arms wrapped around her midsection. “That you can force yourself into their lives, and because you’re so wonderful and flawless, you become the highlight of every victim’s existence. You’re self-centered and undeserving of what others give to you.”

  The words cut Riley like a serrated knife. She had nothing to rebuke anything Morgan had accused her of.

  Morgan paced the floor; she no longer looked at Riley. “All of you think you’re these gods to be worshiped and that we measly humans should be thankful that we were chosen. That we should do what you say and be your sex slave because no harm, no foul, right? News-fucking-flash, you’re narcissistic, and there isn’t a bone in your body that is remotely humane.”

  The house itself seemed to shudder with the force of Morgan’s rant. Riley remained speechless; she wasn’t convinced Morgan was speaking in regards to only her anymore.

  Morgan fell silent and her eyes welled. She let out a shaky breath before finding her tongue again. “He was … gorgeous.” Her voice was quiet, hesitant.

  “Who?” Riley asked carefully.

  “The incubus.”

  Riley’s eyes widened when she realized what Morgan was trying to tell her. Sean.

  “So when he tried to … it wasn’t a big deal. And at first, all it was were amazing sex dreams.” Morgan sighed with the burden of the memories. “But then it was every night. I would wake up more exhausted than when I’d gone to bed.”

  “He was draining you,” Riley whispered as a frown settled on her features. “We don’t do that; it’s why we have multiple partners, so we can take a little and no one gets hurt.”

  “He took. And he kept taking. I eventually made the connection between the dreams and my fatigue.” Morgan’s body visibly shook. “I didn’t know how to control my dreams back then. That came years too late.” She wiped at her eyes. “You don’t know how it felt, Riley. I could see, feel, and think, but I was trapped. My body became my prison, and he …”

  Riley’s closed the distance between them. Her arms slipped around Morgan’s midsection, pulling her in for a tight embrace. She made a hushing noise into Morgan’s hair, and the story fell away. “That’s enough.” The words got caught in her throat. She pressed a light kiss into Morgan’s hair and held her until the shaking stopped.

  After a heavy, tense moment, Morgan pulled away. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she croaked. “I know you’re not him.” She wiped at her face with the back of her hands. “Are you still leaving?”

  The tearstains down Morgan’s cheeks should have been enough to keep her there. But it was also the exact reason she needed to go.

  “I
… yes.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “I call Riley for our team,” Seven shouted from the backyard.

  Heather slid the glass door back and joined the group. She had been preparing for their dinner for weeks and according to James, she had been up since dawn to prep.

  “You do know this is American football we’re playing,” James clarified. “Not soccer.”

  “Well, hell. Every year, I think it’ll be different.” Seven’s face fell at the news. “I still call Riley.”

  “How is that even fair?” Heather narrowed her eyes. “You called dibs on both James and Riles?”

  “Well, I’m not chopped liver,” Wyatt mumbled.

  “This game isn’t about being fair, it’s about winning.” Seven gave a quick pat on both of his teammates’ shoulders.

  Madison was the last to step into the yard. She had been on her phone since her arrival. Never once did she end the conversation, not when she had hugged all of her friends in greeting or even when she started talking to one of the group members. A newly packaged football was tucked under her arm. She tossed the box at Seven’s waiting hands.

  “Okay, I have one person who is glued to her phone.” Heather observed Madison’s lively conversation; there was no indication of it coming to an end. “And then I have Wyatt and his insistent need to be nice.”

  “Maybe I should switch with Madison?” James suggested.

  “That’s not fair.” Seven frowned, and his hands came to rest on his hips. “We have the perfect team.”

  “Or, how about we skip this train wreck of a tradition and go inside?” Riley voiced. The game would have ended with someone’s life being threatened, and she didn’t want to deal with another fight. “If y’all want to continue playing, have fun. I’ll be inside cooking or something.”

  Riley entered the quiet home and headed for the kitchen. She didn’t know if there was anything left to do, but her hands felt fidgety, and she needed to occupy herself. She looked through the cupboards and made note of what she could make. Riley wasn’t a natural-born cook, but she wasn’t helpless when it came to the kitchen. Having her life frozen for decades at her physical prime had its perks. Being able to improve skills like cooking was one of them.

  Riley moved through the kitchen like it was her own home. She pulled drawers and cabinet doors open to retrieve the ingredients needed to make a cranberry cobbler. As she busied herself with whisking the flour and other dry goods, a pair of tanned arms wrapped around her waist. Heather had come inside and she hadn’t noticed.

  “Talk to me, Riles.” Heather rested her head against Riley’s shoulder. “What’s going on in your head? You haven’t said anything since the break up, and that’s not like you.”

  Hesitation was thick on Riley’s lips. “When did my life get so complicated?” she whispered. Her shoulders sagged with the weight of her thoughts. She turned herself around in Heather’s embrace and kept her floured hands at a distance. Her eyes welled with the beginning signs of excess moisture. “All I do is ruin lives, right? I toy with them.”

  Heather pulled Riley into a crushing hug and stroked her hair. She shushed her, and when she pulled back, she wiped at Riley’s tears of frustration. “Sweetie, you don’t ruin lives. Amber was one relationship that didn’t work, but you didn’t ruin her life. It might be absurd, but even humans can recover from our amazing effects.” The joke fell flat, and Riley’s expression didn’t change for the better. Instead, her eyebrows knitted closer together.

  Riley wanted to say something. She wanted to confide in Heather, to tell her all the reasons why her lungs felt like they were crumbling, why there was a literal ache in the beating organ deep in the cavity of her chest. Amber’s betrayal was one cut across the delicate organ, but her fight with Morgan was hemorrhaging the last of her sanity. The mark’s words were fresh on her mind, and they were words she couldn’t share.

  “Let’s wash your hands.” Heather led Riley to the sink and ran the water.

  After the last of the flour mixture went down the drain, Heather pulled Riley into the guest bedroom.

  “Lay down.”

  Riley numbly, but obediently, slid into bed at the request. She could feel the bed dip with Heather’s weight behind her. A tanned arm once again snaked around her waist.

  “It finally sunk in, didn’t it?”

  Riley nodded her head.

  She’d dated as a human, but she supposed because of her childhood she’d never let anyone close enough to give away her heart. She loved hard and was fiercely loyal—her best friends were evidence of that—but that level of trust was earned, never freely given. Aside from when fulfilling dreams or while with her friends, she couldn’t recall if the words “I love you” had ever come out of her mouth as a succubus. As a human she was sure it had probably been stated, wrapped in naivety, infatuations, and teenage crushes. But True Love—the kind that lasted and evolved and matured beyond simple lust—she wasn’t confident it could exist for her. She was a succubus. She was sex. And she wasn’t good for anyone in the long run.

  The two women stayed in that position until Riley’s eyes stopped overflowing. Neither spoke in the silent home, but they could hear their friends outside. The boys were teaching Madison how to throw the ball farther, and she apparently was better than Wyatt. Her carefree laugh could be heard reverberating through the walls.

  An alarm on Heather’s watch beeped as a reminder about dinner. The morning had come and gone with the sun setting for the day. The time that they had estimated dinner would be done was quickly approaching. Riley knew it was best that they got around to rejoining their friends before everyone questioned what was wrong with her. At the very least, prepping for dinner would keep her busy.

  “We should get things set up.”

  “The turkey can burn.” Heather tugged at her to flip over. “If you’re not ready to leave this bed, we’re not going out there.”

  A soft laugh escaped Riley’s lips. “You know that I’m looking forward to dinner. And having a turkey would be nice.”

  “Are you sure you wanna go back out there?”

  “I swear it.” Riley got up from bed and gestured for Heather to head out first. “After you, Miss.”

  Heather didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t have much choice but to go along with the lie.

  “Before we go,” she whispered. Her fingers carefully wiped under the curve of Riley’s eyes. “Let me fix you up real quick. Stay here.”

  Heather retreated to her room and was back after a few minutes of what sounded like rummaging. In her hands, she brought a few selected items from her makeup collection. She motioned for Riley to sit back down on the bed and Riley obliged. For being the most abrasive person in their group of friends, Heather surprisingly had the tenderest touch. She cleaned off Riley’s face and carefully reapplied her mascara, eyeliner, and brushed on a neutral colored eyeshadow. It was simple, but it did the trick for Riley’s taste in everyday makeup.

  Riley smiled up at Heather and received a light pat to the side of her face. Brown eyes searched hers, and Riley could almost swear they looked damp. “For what it’s worth, Rillea. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

  Heather moved to leave the room but before she made it out, Riley caught her by the arm. She placed a small kiss against the inside of her friend’s wrist. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, H.”

  “Let’s hold off on the sweet nothings until we see if that damn turkey burned.” Heather looked concerned but managed to smirk. “Hell, you might all end up in the emergency room with food poisoning again.”

  It was a legitimate reminder of their many past adventures as friends.

  James had taken the role of head chef by the time Riley had emerged from the bedroom with Heather. When he saw her approach, his face softened, and he smiled before addressing her. “I’m assigning you to table duty with Wyatt. Do you remember the proper setup?”

  “Why, yes, sir.” Riley batted her eyes and touche
d the fingertips of one hand to the hollow above her chest. Her Southern accent stressed every word she said. She did her best to shake away her melancholy feelings for the benefit of her friends and the holiday dinner. “I do believe that little ol’ me can remember a few proper etiquette lessons. After all, what kind of Southern belle would I be if I didn’t have the social graces of a proper lady?”

  “Oh, shut up.” Heather laughed and went about helping with the preparations in the kitchen. “We all know you shot guns and chopped wood before you even started walking.”

  “Aww … baby lumberjack Riles,” Madison gushed. “I want one, that way I could put you in plaid long johns.” There was a bounce in her step as she approached Riley. Well-manicured hands pinched Riley’s cheeks before returning to plating duty.

  Riley shook her head at the painful show of affection, but she didn’t mind it too much. After she rubbed at the stinging pain, she joined Wyatt in setting the table. The fine dinnerware was exquisite and the silverware was a complete set; there wasn’t a bread plate, soupspoon, or salad fork missing. Each piece looked as if it had been professionally polished in preparation for the occasion. If Riley remembered correctly, Heather had once mentioned that it was a form of stress relief for her.

  The table didn’t take long to set, which left her and Wyatt to fiddle with details such as triangular napkins. Both would have offered to help in the kitchen, but Heather had banished everyone but James after Seven and Madison had started tossing olives and catching them in their mouths. When there wasn’t any fiddling left to do, Riley gripped the back of one the chairs and allowed her gaze to drift over the table setting. Heather had outdone herself on the table decor this time.

  Lost in her thoughts, Riley almost screamed when she felt an unexpected finger poke at her side. “Jesus!” Her eyes shot over to the person who had jarred her. “You scared me half to death, Wyatt.”

  “Sorry.” His hands slipped into his knitted coat pockets. “I wanted to let you know that I don’t have any news to report.” He made a pained face. “No one I’ve spoken with knows much about Liam’s attack.”