Death of a Succubus

by Kim Schubert

  “Correct,” Logan confirmed.

  “Do you think it’s the same person?”

  “Possibly, Bear seems to think so. He thinks its Zachariah.”

  Darren grunted, “It certainly makes sense.”

  “We need proof before we go after a European Master Vampire.”

  “I know,” Darren agreed. “How do we get it?”

  Logan sighed, “The Oracle.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous. You said Olivia almost didn’t make it out.”

  “I know. It’s a last resort, but the packs will need someone to pay for Olivia’s wounds.”

  Darren sighed, “Let’s cross that bridge when we get there.”

  “Tell him about Anna,” Kass said from the background.

  “Right. Sophie called Kass, it seems Olivia’s will and power of attorney have been activated by her being in a coma. Anna has been named head of The Council until she wakes up.”

  “Who the fuck is Anna?” Logan growled.

  “I don’t know. She was also referred to as Seven in the paperwork.”

  “Seven,” Logan repeated, rolling the name around on his tongue. He knew that name. Olivia had told him about Seven being with her when she escaped from her private hell.

  “Do we know anything more about her?” Logan asked.

  “Only that she lives in New York and will be arriving in two days.”

  “She’s not an executioner?”

  “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Wonderful.”

  …

  Logan slept poorly alone in the bed. He ended up going to watch Ginny as she slept peacefully in her crib, catching a few hours in the rocker. He woke up with an awful crick in his neck.

  Ginny stood wobbly at the side of the crib, babbling to him.

  He picked her up, holding her close for a moment before setting about changing her diaper.

  Downstairs, the children had all gone to school as usual, and there was no sign of Bear or Caleb.

  Mark, however, sat at the long kitchen table, drinking coffee.

  “How’s Jerry?” Logan asked, sitting Ginny in her highchair.

  “Exhausted. I finally got him to leave and get a few hours of sleep last night. He feels so guilty about everything.”

  “There’s nothing to feel guilty about. He didn’t shoot her.”

  Mark sighed. “I know. I told him that, but he keeps thinking that if he was a more powerful mage, he’d be able to heal her wounds.”

  “He kept her alive, that’s more than we could have done.”

  Mark nodded, staring down into his coffee.

  “So, I hear Bear is moving?” Mark changed the subject.

  “Yes, I need a unified front.”

  Mark nodded, “He’s a good choice.”

  “I would have preferred sending you.”

  Mark choked on his coffee. “Olivia already asked me.”

  “I know, she told me.”

  Mark nodded. The silence stretched out between them as Logan fed Ginny a puréed vegetable medley.

  “Blue called. He wants to meet us at Gunner’s this morning,” Mark told him.

  Logan nodded, finishing the last of his breakfast as Katie walked through the front door. Ginny squealed and Logan was relieved to see that Katie didn’t look like she was about to burst into tears again.

  …

  The morning found me dressed and sitting on The Magician’s stool, waiting for them. At least I was assuming it was morning. Instead of everything being bathed in red, it was now yellow. I had found clothing in a cupboard, changing into brown pants and a white shirt with matching boots. The clothes were a little big, but far more comfortable than the dress.

  The door finally creaked open and The Magician looked at me, startled. “How did you change? And how are you able to move the stool?” he asked as I turned back and forth.

  “I expect to,” I answered cryptically.

  Doyle laughed behind him.

  The Magician pulled down on his tailed coat, casting a knowing glance at Doyle.

  “She is a fast study, like her father,” Doyle commented, pushing The Magician out of the way so he could close the door.

  I tapped my fingers on my bicep, my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Speaking of you being my father,” not that I believed it, “why can’t I do magic?”

  “I bound it.”

  “Why?”

  “Unchecked and untrained magic is dangerous.”

  “Do you plan on unbinding it?”

  He sighed, resting his bag on the workbench and pushing a roll and cheese at me. I snatched the food up, still watching him for an answer.

  “It is a very painful process.”

  “I’ve been through worse. It would be nice to have an added tool in my arsenal.” Instead of it just showing up randomly in near-death situations.

  The Magician only nodded. “Also, how do you obtain power? Are you like the witches who eat hearts?”

  He recoiled in distaste. “No! We are nothing like those vile witches. We are born with our powers, like all Supernaturals. Witches are no better than dabbling humans.”

  I couldn’t disagree with that, well, except for Jerry.

  I finished my quick meal. “Do I get any weapons on this trip?” I asked, as The Magician added a few items to his backpack.

  “I didn’t bring any for you. I hadn’t expected you to be so corporeal.”

  “We can stop by the armory,” Doyle informed me.

  “Armory, lovely.” I am a girl who loves an armory.

  We went the opposite way from the realm I had explored in the night. I wasn’t mentioning the unnerving statues or the eerily familiar woman I had stumbled upon. Having a father, or potential father, was enough; I didn’t need to add a potential mother. Especially since my gut warned that she wasn’t as kind as him.

  Doyle led the way and we encountered no one on our walk. He opened a sliding iron gate, motioning me in. I stepped inside and whistled.

  “Impressive,” I whispered, gingerly touching a broadsword hanging on the wall, next to the double-headed battle axes and knife-tipped spears. There were no guns to note, but I did find a crossbow.

  In front of the knives section, I selected a leg holder for a long dagger and a cross body scabbard for throwing knives, which made me feel very Rambo. I accessorized with two thin swords, strapped to my back.

  My father looked at me strangely. Doyle nodded approvingly.

  “What?” I asked. “I don’t have powers. I’ve had to rely on my strength and cunning to keep me alive.”

  My father bowed his head. “Forgive me, you have done an excellent job protecting yourself.”

  I grunted, not comfortable accepting his compliment.

  “Let us head by the kitchen as well,” Doyle commented, picking up a backpack for me that already had a bedroll attached.

  “Thank goodness, bread and cheese are not enough to sustain me.”

  The Magician looked over at me, surprised.

  We continued to travel away from the chamber I’d discovered the previous night, rounding a corner into a noisy, delicious smelling kitchen. A woman with a rolling pin was beating dough, yelling out orders.

  “What are you two doing here?” she asked, taking a second look and noticing me with them. “Who is the harlot?”

  Awesome, even in a different dimension, I’m still a whore.

  “A fellow practitioner,” The Magician lied easily. We had that skill in common, although mine was due to environment, I think.

  I wiggled my fingers at her in a wave. She looked me over critically, leaving her rolling pin on the massive ball of dough.

  “Don’t you try lying to me.” She stepped closer to me than I would have liked. “That’s your daughter. That’s HER daughter,” she hissed before slapping me.

  I stepped back, cupping my cheek. “Nothing good can come of her being here,” she continued.

  “Hit me again, bitch, and I’ll make that predic
tion come true,” I warned her.

  She turned her attention back to me. “What did you dare say to me?”

  I took a step closer to her. “You heard me.”

  “Vile creature,” she hissed as she reached out to push me away. I captured both her hands, my fingers pressing into her plump wrists. I enjoyed her wide-eyed look of panic before I shoved her away. She landed on her ass.

  “That was me being nice, not that you deserved it.”

  She pushed off the floor, yelling, “She is just like her mother. Heartless and cruel. You should have killed her when she was a babe!”

  Oh, I’d just about had enough out of her. “Listen here, you loud-mouthed, foul woman, YOU slapped me first. If you don’t want retribution, keep your hands to yourself.”

  She tried to spit at me; I saw the tilting of her chin, the drawing in of her cheeks. I hit her across the jaw, snapping her head up before she hit the stone ground.

  The Magician watched me closely. “We didn’t come here to cause problems,” he reminded.

  Doyle grunted, whether in agreement or in appreciation of how I’d handled it, I didn’t know.

  “I got manhandled for the first sixteen years of my life, it won’t happen again,” I spat at The Magician.

  He inclined his head, relenting. “Let’s get our provisions.”

  I left with a bag heavily loaded down with food. No one said shit to me after I took out the head bitch.

  I stomped off across the flat red earth in silence for a long time before The Magician spoke.

  “You haven’t asked about your mother,” he ventured, his voice soft.

  “I saw her last night. I saw her statues, she’s not someone I’m going to like,” I informed him.

  “You left the safety of my workroom?” he asked, shocked. He jogged a few steps to walk next to me, his tails billowing out behind him.

  “I did.”

  “You could have been captured.”

  “It’s hard to capture air,” I retorted. Not that I had any idea how fast I could turn it on or off.

  He scoffed, “As a soul, you are pure energy, and there are those here who prey on that. They could capture you easily.”

  I shrugged, “They didn’t.”

  “You shouldn’t take such risks.”

  “My life, my decisions.”

  He sputtered, having no answer for that statement. Finally, he drew a long breath. “You are her daughter. You are part succubus.”

  He said it like I was going to be surprised.

  “I know, that part of me wasn’t bound.” Yeah, still pissed about that.

  He said nothing again for a moment.

  “How do you manage it?”

  “Fine, I have exceptional guards, which I can thank Selena for, so I don’t influence whole rooms like I could.”

  He nodded. “But you can influence emotions?”

  “Only those that are already present. I can pull also, and sometimes sense the emotional charge in the room.”

  He and Doyle shared a look.

  “And sex?” God, that was awkward.

  “It recharges me, helps speed up my healing.”

  “Do your partners…“ His voice trailed off.

  “Geez, twenty fucking questions. Yes, my partners can feel my emotions as long as it’s consensual.”

  He cleared his throat. “And their souls?”

  “Still in their bodies.” I sighed, “I’m not a demon.”

  I was, however, part magician, apparently.

  “I know that,” he bristled. “But your mother…” His voice lost its momentum again.

  “What, she can suck souls during sex?” I stopped my stomping to turn and look at him. My turn to be surprised.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Huh. Nope, it’s never happened. Although with your magic, I can kill with a touch.”

  “How has that happened?” He sounded honestly curious.

  “It’s usually in life or death situations. I can push emotions into a being and short circuit them.”

  “But you don’t have access to it at any given time?”

  “Nope, I usually have to be bloody and beaten for that trick to work.”

  He nodded, not adding anything further.

  We lumbered over the red earth and I watched Doyle’s back, black fur rippling over substantial muscle.

  “How much farther?” I whined.

  “A day and a half, probably more with your slow pace,” Doyle answered.

  Ugh. I was so bored and insulted.

  …

  Logan drove with Mark out to Gunner’s compound an hour outside of town.

  He couldn’t help but think of the last time he was out here with Olivia. She was deadweight over his shoulder, her plump ass within biting distance.

  He recalled how warm she was, not fighting him even as he threw her over his shoulder, a dead giveaway something was wrong. Settling her on the thin mattress, he couldn’t help but stroke her cheek gently, looking into sea green eyes that were far too dilated after their encounter with The Oracle. The way she gave him that dopey half smile melted his resistance, sending him unconsciously leaning closer to her ruby red lips.

  He knew what those lips tasted like, knew what her body felt like against his own. Those sensations haunted his dreams. The raw power in her kiss.

  “Why are you being so nice?” she had asked, tilting her head up at him.

  He had smiled, pulling back his affections. Olivia was as rough as they came, ruthless and cunning, but her emotional state was delicate after the breakup with Blake. He knew that. He also knew that he wanted this enough that he had to be patient, to be sure he wouldn’t just be a rebound. No one else had stood by his side, had protected what was his without question. No one else gave him as much shit.

  His beast may have claimed her first, and fear might have kept Logan from leaving Lorraine and pursuing her sooner, but his mind and heart agreed, she was going to be his.

  Lost in his own memories, he thought back to Olivia and the enchanted room. Getting her into that room had accelerated his plans, dangerously so.

  He had envisioned their first time together, dreamed about it and thought he had it planned out fairly well. There was a certain amount of pressure trying to woo a succubus who excelled at sex. Even Blake couldn’t seem to leave her alone.

  All of that had gone out of the window. With the added push of the enchanted room, he lost all rational thought. He only knew he needed to claim her, to make her his forever.

  He had and the aftermath had badly shaken his core. Olivia had tried to stop him; he hadn’t listened. She had told Jerry it wasn’t rape and that eased his conscience some, but not entirely. He hadn’t obeyed her wishes and it still bothered him that he had lost control that badly.

  His mind wanted to travel down that path of thought, but their arrival at Gunner’s ended the perusal of his memories.

  He clambered down the metal ladder into the bunker, blinking a moment and letting his eyes adjust.

  “You’ve arrived,” Blue called out from the darkened back.

  Logan moved toward the sound of Blue’s voice as his vision returned to normal, Mark’s footsteps behind him.

  “What did you find?” Logan asked, seeing Gunner behind his massive wall of computer screens.

  Gunner turned, pushing up his wire rimmed glasses. “You’re not going to like this,” he warned.

  Logan flicked his gaze to Blue, who just smiled.

  “What?” Logan repeated.

  “The bullet was composed of iron, sea salt, frankincense, along with wood from the tree it came from, and—” Gunner hesitated, drawing a breath. “Infant blood.”

  Logan’s lion roared to the surface and he tightened his jaw, keeping his beast under control.

  “Infant. Blood?” Logan asked.

  Gunner nodded. “It might not have been enough to kill the baby.”

  Logan pulled a chair up next to Gunner. “Can you trace the blood?” />
  Gunner rubbed his eyes and Logan noted the stale scent of sweat as those bloodshot eyes turned to meet the Alpha’s. “I’ve been trying. None of the databases thus far have yielded any leads. Besides, infant DNA isn’t something that is widely recorded.”

  Logan nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Keep digging into it.”

  “Was that the part I wasn’t going to like?” Logan asked.

  “Oh, no. Blue wants to shoot you,” Gunner admitted.

  “What?” Mark exclaimed.

  “I want to test the makeup of the bullet in you, less the infant blood. I think someone did quite a bit of research constructing it,” Blue stated.

  “They used iron, not silver,” Mark pointed out.

  “Why would someone need to research how to kill a shifter?” Gunner added, leaving unstated that decapitation or extreme blood loss would do the trick.

  “Someone who didn’t know,” Logan guessed. “But that doesn’t explain how the person knew to leave wolfsbane.”

  Logan stood, pulling up his shirtsleeve. “I assume you have a bullet?”

  Blue smiled, pulling out his sidearm, caressing it. “All locked and ready to go.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Mark asked.

  Logan shrugged, holding out his arm. “It’s a small caliber, it should heal instantly.”

  “Unless there is some truth to the bullet being well researched,” Blue countered.

  Mark threw his hands up. “Fine.”

  “Do it outside,” Gunner warned, reaching out to protect his high dollar electronics.

  No one missed the show as they hurried up the ladder outside.

  “Not by the cars,” Mark groaned, leaning on the SUV by Gunner.

  “I can’t believe he agreed to this,” Gunner whispered to him.

  “Me either,” Mark agreed, not bothering to whisper.

  Logan watched Blue smile as they faced off. “I have to admit, I’m going to enjoy this.”

  “Get on with it,” Logan muttered.

  “Are you sure I can’t convince you for a chest shot?”

  “No.”

  The gun echoed loudly as Blue pulled the trigger. It took all of Logan’s control not to move, and when the pain laced his upper arm, it took all his control not to kill Blue, who walked up nonchalantly, inspecting the wound.

  “The healing is delayed,” Blue noted with detachment.