by ML Michaels
In reply, Whitney opened his passenger door, got in, and closed it behind her. “I’ve read like all of your books Mr. Brigg—that, and well, I’ve kinda been really thinking about you since you walked in the cafe.”
Reginald was thankful to be sitting already because her admission would have probably knocked him off of his feet. Never once did he think that a girl like her would be into him at all.
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” he answered, looking into her green eyes and falling into their depths again.
“So,” she purred, her long legs easily crossing the distance between their seats and into his lap, “let’s do more than just think, then.”
Reginald could scarcely form a grunt of approval before their lips touched, her soft pillows sending feelings and sensations through his body the likes of which he’d never felt. In Whitney’s addictive embrace in the fogging, passion-filled front seat of his Prius, Reginald completely lost track of time for the second time that day.
***
Had the two of them walked into almost any other bar in the city, the stark difference between them would have garnered more than a few quizzical stares.
Here, at Order’s Up, though, the asymmetric duo of a middle-aged curvy black woman packing two heavy-duty silver pistols on her hip followed by a lanky shaggy-haired white pale kid with drooping dark eyes and a slow, sluggish walk, didn’t even get a second glance.
The guard at the door was nothing but a dark shadow, barely visible to the eyes of Zack, even though he’d been seeing clearer than ever before since he’d been turned. “Don’t look it directly in the eyes,” his Agent said back to him, as she checked her pistols at the door.
“And you,” she continued, this time directed to the elusive obsidian outline, “don’t give me any lip about bringing a JA in—the sun’s coming up and we were in the middle of nowhere. Besides, I have to grab a new case anyway. Two birds, one stone.”
If the guard had anything to say, Beck didn’t wait to hear it. Zack followed her, the shaggy-faced hooded boy lagging behind with a bad limp, taking in his surroundings with wide-eyes as he scanned the mysterious bar. He’d only been a part of The Order, a clandestine organization made up of humans and supernaturals that are tasked with keeping the two worlds and the border between them in place, for a short time.
But he’d seen things he hadn’t even heard of before, let alone believed in, and since being turned that fateful night, had come face-to-face with even more dangerous and destructive monsters.
Even with all that, he had never seen the inside of this small bar, though his partner was allowed entry practically anytime that she desired. This was a first for him and he intended to remember everything about it.
It wasn’t much he realized, a bit disappointed. It was pretty empty, save for a man hunched over at the bar who was talking with the bartender. At a booth in the corner, there seemed to be a fading apparition of some sort. He’d learned that there were beings that existed beyond the plane of life and since then, he’d done his best to ignore them; he was a vampire, but some other creatures just seemed unnatural.
The bar itself was small, decorated with fading picture depicting what he assumed to be humans. The actual bar area was the most interesting part about the room. There were literally hundreds of different bottles of vividly colored concoctions and spirits hanging overhead.
Beck laughed, not even bothering to turn around as she informed him. “Don’t get too comfy in here buddy boy, this is a one-time only deal. Your little Junior Agent brain can’t handle all the flashy lights.”
Zack bit back a response, instead choosing to wonder just how the hell his annoying partner seemed to not only always know what he was thinking, but also make fun of him for it.
Beck had already walked to the bar, ordering herself an apple martini. “Make it the club way,” she added, grabbing a handful of bar nuts and sitting in a stool next to the man at the bar who Zack could now see was badly scarred.
“How ya been lately, Vance?” Beck smiled genuinely at the man, who was probably one of three people on Earth who would ever see a genuine smile from her.
“I’ve been good,” he turned to her as he spoke and she was once again reminded of how handsome her friend was, even despite all of the battle scars he wore. “Actually, happy for the first time in a long time, if you can believe it.”
“Believe it? I can see it, it’s written all over your face.” The bartender brought her drink back. The emerald concoction of liquor, apple flavoring, and magic seemed to shimmer, as if it muted everything else in the small bar.
Beck sipped her drink, feeling the tingles crawl through her body, healing and repairing the wounds from her last case. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was just club soda in that glass.”
“Well, too bad you didn’t put money on that one because you would have been right.” Vance downed the drink, placed a small card inside the hat that was resting on the bar, and then clapped a strong hand on her shoulder. “Until next time, Rebecka?”
“I’ll be here, Vance.”
Zack waited until the man was out of the bar to take his seat beside Beck. She slid him the drink, not looking at him. “Drink that. It’ll make that gash go away.”
“So would some blood,” he muttered.
“What was that?” she asked sharply.
“Nothing.” Zack took a large gulp of the martini, feeling the burn of the alcohol, and something else behind it. It was like a sickly sweetness traveling throughout his whole body. His limbs were on fire, the flames dancing along his arm and legs, lapping at his wounds and bruises.
“All of it.”
“I don’t know—I think I’m feeling it, already.”
“Stop being a baby and finish your feminine ass drink so we can go downstairs.”
“There’s more?” Zack finished the cup in the next second, standing up on wobbly, but no longer damaged legs, and waiting for Beck with a goofy smile on his face. She walked in front of him over to a small hallway at the back of the room. On one side were the bathrooms—Zack was surprised to see there was no male or female signs, just the numbers one and two on the doors respectively. And on the other side, there was an old-time jukebox, not out of form with the rest of the decor in the aged bar.
Beck stepped up to it and punched in a code for some song that Zack had never heard of even though the jukebox was full of new music. “Leave it to you to pick the only song on this thing not from this millennia,” he laughed.
Beck mocked his laughter. “Leave it to you to still not understand what’s going on.” As she finished talking, Zack could feel the floor beneath him begin to shake and the jukebox seemed to be sinking into the floor.
In seconds, where there had once been a wall and a jukebox, there was now a set of stairs leading down to a lower level. Beck began walking, stopping to turn back to Zack who was still trying to figure out what happened.
“You’re behind as usual, Z. Come, come young squire, our next pain-in-the-ass awaits.”
Zack shook his head, trying to remind himself to keep up. “So,” he asked as they walked down the stairs, “why exactly do we have to go to the lower level?”
“You know, I really don’t know. It must be something important, though.” She turned around to him with a smile. “I’ve still got my fingers crossed that I’m getting a new partner assignment.”
“Why would you even say that?”
“Oh, hush up, ya big baby. We’re here.”
Beck was right. He was on the last step, and she stood in front of him, her hips pressed against a door that was just like the bathroom doors, except that this one was labeled with the number negative-one.
“Ready to have your mind blown?”
***
“Thanks for the ride, and everything else,” Whitney said, with a giggle. She kissed the man, whose name she’d forgotten the second they were done, then looked him in his eyes, capturing his attention completely and effortl
essly.
“Now go home,” she spoke to him with a voice that coated his mind like sweet honey, “delete all the files on your laptop and forget I ever existed.”
“Of course,” he answered, in that monotonous voice that all her lovers shared when they were under her spell. He drove off, peeling through the desolate suburban streets, thirsty to get home and do his goddess’ bidding.
His goddess was currently laughing as she walked up the stairs of her porch thinking about just how easy it had been this time. The door to her vine-covered Victorian Tudor two-story opened before she could even knock and she knew that Dani had been up waiting on her all night again.
“Hey Whit,” her little sister greeted her, wearing that same kind smile that always reminded Whitney of their mother.
“Hey D! Were you up waiting on me again? And don’t even say no because the bags under your eyes are already giving you away.”
“Oh my God! I have bags under my eyes?”
“Oh my God!” a third voice emanating from down the hall repeated. Seconds later, illuminated by the dull glow of candlelight, their oldest sister Julia stormed out of her room. “Who has bags under their eyes?”
While it’s completely ludicrous that any family of humans, no matter how vain or how much emphasis they put on appearances, would wake up in the wee hours of the morning because of something as mundane as dark bags under the eyes, the Braylin sisters weren’t the typical family.
They were succubi. And in a family of succubi, where appearance and physical perfection were everything, bags under the eyes were definitely cause for alarm.
Danielle, who was the youngest of the three sisters, knew all too well what eye bags could mean. The beginning of the end. She rushed to the bathroom, hearing the echoing footsteps of her sisters behind her. She clicked on the light and gazed in the mirror, her face falling instantly.
Whitney and Julia crowded in behind her, worry and eagerness apparent on both of their faces. Their perfect, blemish-free faces.
“See? I told you! You can’t keep waiting up for me. You need your beauty sleep more than we do.” Her sister’s words stung, even though they were true. She had always existed within the shadow of her beautiful sisters.
“I just worry about you sometime,” she defended. “You’re out there with strange guys at all times of the night. Who knows what could happen?”
Whitney and Julia both laughed. “Please little sister, it isn’t me you should be worrying about, it’s all those pitiful men,” Whitney said. “The only thing that happens these nights are things I want to happen.”
“Besides,” Julia interjected. “You shouldn’t have any time to be worrying about her because you should be out with strange guys of your own.”
Danielle disregarded her reflection in the mirror, pushing out of the bathroom and past her sisters, not wanting to have this conversation again. “I’m not ready.” Like two small loyal dogs, they followed her, yapping the whole time about how she had to stop fighting who she was.
“It’s becoming pretty clear that you might not have a choice anymore. I mean, bags Dani? What’s next? A zit?”
Danielle opened the door to her room and tried to close it on them before they could follow. It only took one of Julia’s manicured hands to stop her and push her way into the room.
“Listen up, little sister,” Julia commanded. She got like this whenever she was angry or serious. Her voice, full of power and unwavering, her eyes alight with life, and an expression on her face that made it clear there was no choice in the matter. “You’re almost twenty. Up until now, you’ve been lucky, your great genes have carried you, and you haven’t needed to feed. That’s over.
“You’re going through the changes whether you like it or not and if you don’t drop the Gandhi act and eat soon, you’re going to be reduced to a human.”
Danielle thought about chiming in, but one look from Whitney let her know that interrupting her sister wouldn’t be smart. Julia was the oldest and although Whitney was the one who handled their finances and made the money for them, Julia was the one who kept them safe. She made sure they kept off the radar of those who would want to hunt them, she organized kills and marks for her and Whitney when they had to feed, and when needed, she was the one who talked sense into them.
“Tomorrow, after class and after I get home from work, we’re going out. Don’t go to the library or the movies or anything, just wait for me.”
“Why? Am I being punished for having bags under my eyes?”
“Not at all, little sister. On the contrary, tomorrow’s a celebration—I’m taking you hunting for the first time.”
***
The upper level had been underwhelming to Zack, but this, the lower level, was more than he could have fathomed. The door had led to a long hallway, which led to another door. This one was unmarked. Finally, after opening it, the true headquarters of The Order stood before him.
It was like some kind of NSA or CIA work floor. Dozens of people sat in front of computers, headphones in and they’re eyes attached to their screens as information flew past at breakneck speeds. Further back, behind the circular arrangement of tech and techies, were pods. They lined the walls, covering every inch of the spacious level. Zack couldn’t make out what they were but they felt familiar to him. He squinted, trying to catch a glimpse behind the frosted glass of the encasing.
Beck whistled. “Keep your eyes up here, boy. You’re not even supposed to be down here, don’t go making me look bad.” Having given her partner his customary warning against any stupid action, Beck walked over to reception, hopefully to just get her next assignment and get the hell out. She hated when these things took longer than necessary.
“Yeah, they sent me down here for some reason. Agent Rebecka Smiles?”
“Ah, Agent Smiles,” the blonde-haired reception said with a smile after scrolling through the window on her screen for a second. “You actually have a new case waiting. It’s an A-level, so you have to be briefed first. I believe the director is in. You can just go on back.”
“Zack,” Beck called back to him, “I’ll be right back. You stay. And don’t touch anything. Got it?”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s not that hard,” he muttered under his breath, sticking a tongue out at her, which elicited a small giggle from the young girl behind reception.
He resented the fact that Beck treated him like a child or a pet. He’d proven on many different occasions already that he was an integral part of the team. Sure, he thought with a shrug, he had a bit of a hard time following directions, and yeah, it got him into trouble sometimes, but it had never been anything serious.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was up and out of his seat, walking past the reception office and towards the mysterious pods. In another life, perhaps, he would have made a go at the beautiful blonde girl behind the counter. But now, with his life in shambles and stuck in a dead-end career with no other options, relationships were the last thing on his mind.
He watched from dozens of yards away as Beck finally reached the director’s office, knocked, waiting to be invited in, then disappeared behind the door. Now, that the coast was completely clear, Zack sped up, already on his way to see just what the hell was being kept in those pods.
When he got to the circle of tech geeks, he didn’t need to do any sneaking or hiding, they were all much too invested in the tasks in front of him to notice anything. He walked straight past, through the circle of nerds, none of them even glancing up from their screens.
The pods were in front of him now, and he realized at this distance just how large they actually were. One of them could have easily fit the whole of him, with room still to spare. The glass encasement was pill-shaped and obscured by what looked like a thin layer of ice covering the face of the glass. Or fog, he thought, stepping closer, to see if he could wipe it away.
A whistle, low and demeaning, resounded from across the room. Before he was turned, he wouldn’t have been able to hear
the sound at this distance even if the entire room had been silent. Now, with his heightened senses, he couldn’t not hear the stupid sound if he wanted to. It, and the meaning of it—that Beck was looking for him—had been repetitively engraved into his memory.
He left the pods, still unsure of what they held, and made his way back to Beck. From the first second he saw her, he could tell something was different; her cocky smile was gone from her face, replaced with a subtle expression of worry.
Zack didn’t find out what was wrong with her though, until after they’d left the bar and were already on their way to their next job.
“Look, Beck, I know we’re not that close or whatever, but I can tell something is wrong with you. Ever since we left The Order Up you’ve had this look on your face. It’s not good—what’s going on?”
Beck waited for a while before answering, speeding past three cars and swerving into the truck lane. “First of all,” she began, when she finally answered, “don’t act like you know me. It’s creepy.”
“Secondly, nothing’s wrong. I’m just sitting here trying to figure out how HQ expects me to complete an A-list mission with you only having three months on the job.”
“A-list?” His eyes grew wide. Up until now, the hardest thing they’d done was a B-list case, and on that one he’d almost lost a limb in the process. He could feel his stomach begin to stir, but he wasn’t sure if it was from excitement, fear or the hunger. “What do we have to do?”
Beck pressed on the horn heavily, cursing at an eighteen-wheeler, even though she’d been the one that had cut it off without signaling. She always drove like a maniac, but to Zack, it seemed worse today. “Have you ever heard of a succubus?” She asked.
He thought back to his weeklong crash course in everything supernatural. “Yeah, they’re female beautiful seductresses that feed off of the sexual energy of their partners?”
“Right. Well, there are a group of succubi causing a stir in New Castle, Washington. So far we have three vics and counting—they’re smart though. The actual number could be ten times that, those are only the ones we know about. It seems like they only feed when they have to, so we don’t have much intel. And yet they expect us to find all three of them, apprehend them, and bring the leader back alive.”