by L. C. Davis
I expected one of his snide quips, if not rage, but instead, he just stared at me with a weird, vaguely nostalgic look in his eyes.
“What?” I asked warily. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Whatever trance he was in broke and he looked down at his clawed hands. “Most of the time, I hardly even recognize you. Sometimes I do.”
I sat back down, struggling to collect my thoughts. I had to choose my words carefully around Locke, my questions more carefully than anything. He was like a vending machine with crossed wires. You could push the button, but you never knew if what you were going to get was what you’d asked for. “Why do you say things like that? Things that imply we knew each other before you appeared to me in Stillwater.”
“Because we did,” he said through his gritted fangs, his eyes shining. I’d never seen tears in them, and I knew better than to think they came from anything other than frustration, but it was still a shock to see him like this. Vulnerable, even if he looked anything but. “Do you have any idea what this has been like for me? To see you this way? To have to do everything myself, to have you hate me and fight me at every turn when I’m only doing what you wanted. To look into your eyes that first time and know you didn’t have a damn clue who I was?”
His words took me off-guard. Even if I had asked him for the truth, I realized only then that I wasn’t ready for it. Too late now. The cat, as they said, was out of the bag. “Locke…”
“You don’t, do you?” There was pain in his voice now, in his gaze as he dabbed at the corner of his eye. “You don’t remember me. Not even an inkling?”
I hesitated. The truth felt cruel for some reason, lying even crueler. “No,” I admitted. “No, I don’t.”
He let out a strangled laugh and looked away. “Of course not.”
“Who are you, Locke?” I asked carefully. The only thing more terrifying than the answer to that question was not knowing. “To me?”
“That’s the wrong question,” he said, his tongue newly sharpened. “What you should really be asking is, who are you?”
I swallowed hard. “Adam?”
“Bingo,” he said bitterly, throwing back the rest of a glass filled with what I could only hope was wine. “Granted, it took Michael practically spelling it out for you to realize it, but I suppose you can only put a soul through so much before it cracks.”
“How?” My voice was cracked and dry, so I took another sip of the awful elixir. Maybe it was just a placebo effect, but it steadied my nerves. “Why?”
“It’s a long story,” he said, running his finger around the rim of his glass. “The funny thing is, you’d kill me if I told you, even though you’re the one who wrote it eons ago. I’m just playing my part as you crafted it.”
“I’m...Adam. The angel you were in love with.”
“Were,” he sneered. “How quaint.” His glass was full again even though Alois hadn’t returned to our table since we’d sat down, and he swirled the burgundy liquid around.
“I’m trying to understand,” I said slowly. “But whoever I was, I’m operating on a human perspective here, so you’ve gotta cut me some slack.”
His mouth curved slightly and the way it quivered made me think he was about to start crying for a second. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if he did. The steel returned to his eyes as he pulled it together and for the first time, I found myself wondering if Locke was only as malevolent as he was because it was the only way he could hide far less convenient emotions. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now. The plan’s fucked to hell anyway,” he muttered, throwing back another glass. “You were an angel once. The angel. While all of Heaven grieved after Lucifer fell, you had a plan to stop him. It was madness, but it was brilliant, nonetheless. While the others were still hoping he’d come back, you knew there was nothing left to be saved and you were already planning for the endgame.”
“The apocalypse?” I asked warily.
“Precisely. You see, you were gifted with a unique ability to see all potential futures. Omniscience,” he whispered. “You saw from the very beginning how it would all end. You said there was only one way that Lucifer could be stopped without all of creation being destroyed, but it would require a great sacrifice. It would require taking control of the Will of God. While Lucifer hoped to change it, to subvert it, your plan was to let it play out with your cast in place.”
“Me?” I winced. “I mean...Adam? He planned to, what, reincarnate as the Whore of Babylon?”
“The supporting roles are always the most important,” he muttered. “He who possesses the Whore controls when and how the apocalypse begins, and the best finishing move is the one you set up from the beginning.”
I took a second to process that, then gave up when I realized a millennia wouldn’t be enough. “So all of this… all this shit I’ve gone through, this fucked up destiny I’ve been fighting my whole life…” My voice cracked again and I polished off the tea, then the rest of what was in Locke’s glass when that wasn’t enough. Definitely alcohol, which came as a relief. “You’re telling me I planned it? I chose it?”
“That’s what I’m telling you. Believe it or don’t, it hardly matters anymore.”
“And you… How did a demon get involved in all of this?”
“You’ve met my mother. Mother of all incubi? She was human once, before Lucifer corrupted her. She was his first true creation.”
“Who is your father?”
“Ever heard of Cain? Guy who invented a little thing called murder?”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Quite an illustrious pedigree, isn’t it?” He smirked. “Anyway, Adam got to my mother, convinced her that Lucifer had given her a raw deal and promised redemption if she helped him. She would have, too, if he--I suppose I should say you--hadn’t betrayed her.”
“Adam betrayed Lilith? How?”
“He fell in love with her son,” he said thoughtfully. “Though not half as madly as I fell in love with him.”
I looked for any sign of deception in his eyes, any trickery in his words, but some part of me knew better. Locke never lied. For once, I wished he would. “You took her place. You agreed to help him fulfill his plan to stop Lucifer, but… wasn’t he like your father? He created Lilith. That means he created you, in a sense.”
“I suppose it does,” he mused. “I could feed you some line about how I realized a higher calling above my own lowly creation, but the truth is, I never felt a call to anything or anyone as strongly as I felt the call to be at his side. Loyalty, family, it all ceased to matter in comparison to him. I grew to love humanity because I saw it through Adam’s eyes, and I hated it because he loved it more than me,” he said with a soft laugh.
“I’m sorry, Locke. I wish I could remember, I-- Why can’t I remember?”
“It was part of the plan. There are things you shouldn’t know--things you can’t know in order to play your role properly,” he answered. “I suppose some silly part of me was holding out hope that you would remember me, anyway. At least before the ritual.”
My eyes widened as the pieces slipped into place. “You’re part of it, aren’t you? One of the Seven.”
“A werewolf, a member of the undead, an abomination, a vampire, a sorcerer, an angel and a demon,” he said, flicking his empty glass to tip it over. It rolled on the table, stopping just before it hit the edge. “I had the last domino in place when you freed Lilith, and yes, I was one of them.”
“Why are you talking like it’s over? Like the plan changed?”
He frowned. “Because it has. You’re no longer bound to me in contract. That was the only way I was able to hold you to your end of the plan, and it’s obvious this incarnation has a mind of its own. To be honest, I’m tired of fighting you. I never wanted it to be this way in the first place, I only went along with it because it’s what you wanted.” He dug a hand into his sheer white hair and the sight of him like this, half-drunk and defeated, was more unnerving than anyth
ing I’d seen in Hell thus far. “I failed. Now that Michael knows who and where you are, we’ll never make it out of Hell alive. He didn’t want to let you live when he thought you were human. Now that he knows who you are, he has even more incentive not to let you become the Whore. Once you are, he can’t kill you until the final battle takes place. We’ll never make it back to Stillwater, and I used all of my energy getting here and pulling you out of the river.”
“But you can take mine like before, can’t you?”
“We’re not bound. I can’t access your energy unless you give it freely, and even if I could, I no longer have a witch. The moment we get back to Earth, I’m nothing more than a rabies vector.”
I bit my lip, struggling to bring my emotions up to speed with the decision I’d already made. “This ritual of yours. Does it have to be an orgy, or is losing my virginity enough to set my Whoredom into motion?”
He blinked. “A seven-way orgy wouldn’t be entirely practical for the sake of ritualistic virgin sacrifice.”
“In other words…?”
“Yes, it would be enough. Why?”
I sighed, slipping out of the booth. I reached for Locke’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “I’m not interested in dying a virgin in Hell,” I said dryly. “There’s way too much poetic irony in it, and this plan is what, a few centuries in the making?”
“Try millennia.”
I let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry I don’t remember, Locke. I’m sorry I’m not him anymore, and I can’t promise I ever will be, but I’ll do what I can to make this right. To do what we set out to do a long time ago.”
His eyes searched mine and he shook his head. “Why?”
I hesitated. It was a fair question, and it had more than one answer. At one point, I’d entertained the idea that as far as the immortal players in the End of Days went, Michael wasn’t the worst who could be calling the shots, but now I knew he was just doing what we all were. Trying to write a version of the story he could live with, but that didn’t mean it was one I could live with. There were multiple answers, but only one that stuck out as the truth. “Because you were honest,” I murmured. I didn’t even have proof that he was telling me the truth, only a strange resonance with his words that ran deeper than my conscious mind. It was the same unseen force that compelled me to trust Nick, and to come to Stillwater in the first place.
“That and you’re not the only one who’s tired of fighting. I don’t know how this is going to end. I don’t know if Adam’s plan is going to work, but it’s more than I’ve had in a long time. When I summoned Remiel, I was ready to die. I’d made my peace with it, but now, I’m angry,” I admitted, feeling the emotion wash over me, as if admitting as much out loud had given it power. “This is all so fucked up. Angels fighting demons over the will of a God who’s nowhere to be found, souls lingering and fading while everything else carries on as usual. It’s not like I ever had a whole lot of faith in the divine plan to begin with, but this…”
Locke listened, a slow smile parting his lips. “You’re wrong, you know. So was I.”
I stared at him quizzically. “About what?”
He leaned in, brushing his claws along my jawline. His gaze was soft, as intimate as his whisper. “The packaging might be different, but the angel I fell for still very much lives in you.”
I reached out to touch his cheek and the gesture seemed to startle him. I let my hand fall away and took his again, lacing his fingers with mine as I led him up the stairs. “Come with me.”
He followed, his eyes wide and glazed in a trance. We reached the top of the stairs and I paused, searching the hall until I found an open door. I pushed it open and slipped into the ornately furnished room, turning to face Locke. He watched me curiously and I closed the door, pushing him up against it. The moment my lips met his, I felt a familiar surge, a commingling of energy, only this time, he wasn’t the one responsible. Maybe it had never been just a part of the contract at all.
Judging from the way he shivered and his lips parted, the effect went both ways. I slipped my tongue into his mouth and realized he tasted as good as he smelled. Incense mingled with wine and I realized just how easy it would be to become drunk on an incubus’ touch. I really shouldn’t have judged Daniel.
I slipped my hand into the demon’s hair and it felt every bit as smooth and silken under my fingertips as I’d always imagined. Living with him for the better part of a year, I’d grown so accustomed to pretending like I didn’t notice him, but the moment I gave myself permission to explore the attraction it seemed impossible not to feel for him, it engulfed everything. Maybe I didn’t remember being Adam, but as I held Locke, indulging my senses with the feel and taste and scent of him, I could understand a bit easier how a demon might make an angel fall.
“Wait.” The word came out as a breathless plea, even though a moment earlier, he’d been returning my kiss with nothing shy of desperation. He rested his hands on my shoulders, his claws digging in slightly as he pushed back. “We don’t have to do this. It doesn’t have to be me.”
I frowned, struggling to make sense of his words.
“It could be anyone. Any demon,” he muttered. “It’s not like it would be hard to find a volunteer.”
This was a new side of him, this hesitation. This doubt. I let it linger for longer than I should have, because I knew it wasn’t likely I’d ever see him this vulnerable again, and when he looked at me that, his eyes equally full of want and fear, I felt like I could almost remember. Or at least, I wanted to…
“I can’t say this is how I thought it would be,” I admitted, pressing my hand against his cheek. He felt so cool to the touch, so comforting. He had felt the same way on the day he’d come to rescue me from that basement, too. I’d taken more solace in his embrace then than I ever wanted to admit, but I found myself wondering what else I might take from him, if given the chance. “But if it has to be anyone, I want it to be you. I don’t trust any other demon.”
“You don’t trust me,” he said in a wry tone that belied the worry in his gaze.
I smiled a little. “No, I don’t,” I agreed, taking his hand again to lead him over to the bed. “But you know what they say. The devil you know.”
“I’m not a devil,” he muttered. “I’m an incubus.”
“So I’ve heard.” I reached for the sash tying his robe around his waist tugged. The silk slipped open, revealing his smooth, pale chest underneath. “I hope you know, I have some lofty expectations.”
He laughed, but the sound caught in his throat. Somehow, I’d never thought it possible to fluster him. It was strangely flattering. “Daniel can’t keep his mouth shut, hm?”
“No, but he does keep coming back for more.” I ran my hands down his chest, moving back up to his shoulders to slip the robes off him. They fell in a pile of silk at his feet and I kissed his neck, deciding it had been too long since I’d tasted him. He shuddered as my hand trailed down past his torso, slipping into his waistband to palm his half-erect shaft. “Holden…”
“You’re kind of bashful for a sex demon,” I whispered against his lips, squeezing his shaft until it hardened in my palm. “I thought this was what you wanted. I guess you really are like a cat after all.”
“How’s that?” he moaned.
I pulled my hand out of his slacks and pushed him back onto the bed, disrobing him before climbing on top of him. “You put on a good show, but once you actually catch your prey, you never know what to do with it.”
“You’re more aggressive than I thought you’d be.”
“Are you complaining?” I asked, kissing my way down his neck.
“No,” Locke mumbled, turning his head. “I just --” He gasped sharply as I ground my hips into him, mesmerized by the way his skin hummed with energy in response to my every caress. The more I gazed at his perfect body, the more of him I took in, the easier it was to see the faint green haze hovering over his flesh. It wasn’t his aura. I’d seen it plenty of times befor
e, while he was teaching me. This was something else entirely. As it came into view, his scent changed and I could feel the electricity when my hand just hovered over him without touching.
“What is this?” I asked, twirling my finger around in the haze over his heart. The green smoke darkened and swirled in response, wrapping around my finger as I drew it up.
“You can see that?” His hooded eyes darkened with confusion and lust.
“It’s beautiful,” I admitted. “What is it?”
“It’s kundalini. Primal energy. It’s the stuff incubi feed off of,” he explained, watching me with deep curiosity. “I suppose it makes sense that you’re able to see it. Most humans can’t.”
The reminder of what I was and why we were really doing this was unwelcome. What had begun as an attempt to get the ritual over with had turned into something I couldn’t quite define, but I didn’t want him getting off-track. I drew a finger into my mouth, a few streams of his energy still clinging to it. The kundalini burned the tip of my tongue in the most delightful way and a strange heat flared deep inside my core. “Whatever it is, it’s delicious.”
Locke’s eyes widened in surprise, and when I kissed him again, his entire body warmed beneath mine. I could feel the energy even more strongly than before, stirring restlessly over the surface of his skin and that faint taste sparked a hunger in me like nothing I’d ever known. Suddenly the weight of my clothes seemed unbearable and Locke began unbuttoning my shirt with his nimble fingers trembling in desperation, as if he understood perfectly. I made quick work of my fly but I didn’t have the patience to get my pants all the way off. I’d been a virgin for close to a quarter of a century, but waiting another second was unfathomable.
My tongue battled with the demon’s as we groped each other, his claws tearing shreds in my back that only served to fuel the lust that seemed to have seeped into every pore, drowning out any part of me. If this was the effect incubi had on all humans, I could understand how sin had become a thing. I ran my hand down along his smooth thigh, hitching it up over my hip. I pressed into him and the friction of my dick sliding over his was enough to make me shudder with need. With hunger. As maddening and new as the touch was, as intoxicating as the energy it caused to surge around him, soaking into me without any effort on my part, I needed more. I needed to taste him, to touch him everywhere, places no one else had. I needed to know what it was to be buried inside of this monster I’d once loved, because even if I wasn’t sure I loved him now, I needed him in a way I’d never needed anyone before.