Blood of the Succubus

by McGeary, Duncan

  “This is all that is left,” he said. He wrested one of the bottles loose and handed it to Abigail, then gave another to Brittany. “I need the rest,” he said.

  They held the bottles out and stared at them.

  “Wow,” Abigail said. “This is the real thing.”

  They were completely overwhelmed by it, Rick could see. They were well trained, and perhaps wise beyond their years, but they probably hadn’t really believed all the stories. Still, more than ever, he was certain that the women were the key.

  “Let’s go,” he said, climbing into the front seat.

  But the women were already scrambling out of the back of the van. “We’ll meet you there, Mr. Gerhard,” Abigail said. “We’ve got our own wheels.”

  “All right,” Rick said. “If we get separated, we’ll meet at the Cambridge Hotel, in downtown Bend. Whatever you do, don’t try to confront the Daughters of Lilith alone. It won’t accomplish anything. You need a man to complete the job. Sorry if that sound politically incorrect. It’s just the way it is. The Succubae can only be truly defeated by a man.”

  “Oh, dear. Where on Earth are we going to get one of those?” Abigail asked with a smile.

  “Don’t worry,” Rick grunted. “One bottle of Blood and I’ll be all they can handle.”

  Abigail laughed and slammed the van’s doors closed.

  As Rick drove out of the parking lot, two figures on Harley-Davidsons fell in behind him. Rick was filled with hope for the first time in years.

  Chapter 30

  Cary closed Serena’s door behind him and stood in the hallway for a moment. He turned back, his hand reached out to knock, but then he dropped it to his side.

  He pulled the keycard for his own room out of his pocket and walked away. As he passed the nearest room, he heard unmistakable rustling, whispering sounds. Jeremy and Lucinda were together at last. Love was in the air. It was almost as if he could sense the erotic energy coming from the room.

  Or maybe he just wished the same for himself. He unlocked the door to his room and entered. The bed was huge, inviting. He didn’t dare lie down, because the moment he did, he knew he’d be out.

  He went back to the door. It locked automatically, and there didn’t seem to be any way to change that. How do I make it easy to open?

  Look at you, he thought. Acting like a horny teenager who thinks the sexy woman is going to sneak into his room in the middle of night.

  After a moment’s thought, Cary left the keycard in the lock and closed the door. He felt safe enough. He was in the top floor of a high-end hotel. He’d just have to get up early and grab the key, make sure no one noticed what he’d done. He was embarrassed by his fantasy, but too horny to resist giving it a chance to become real.

  He opened the mini fridge and uncorked a bottle of white wine. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and tried to think of ways to win Serena over. He considered using logic; he considered emotion; he considered sex appeal. She was going to resist him, he knew. She had a sense of integrity that was impressive and immensely appealing.

  But whether anything happened between them wasn’t up to him, it was up to her, and if there was one thing he didn’t doubt, it was her willpower.

  He put the glass of wine down after only a couple of sips and leaned back on the bed. Then he was out.

  Cary half woke, feeling drunk. Had he finished the rest of the wine? Someone was undressing him, tugging down his pants. His erection caught in the waistband and he heard a soft laugh.

  He opened his eyes and there she was—the woman of his dreams. Serena’s long hair was loose and draped over his stomach as she took him into her mouth. She slowly, sensuously moved up and down his length, and every third or fourth time, she went lower and licked his balls. He wanted to groan, but it was as if his vocal cords were frozen. He looked up at the high ceiling, wondering if he should try to think of baseball, his taxes, anything but what was happening. He wanted it to last…to last forever. When he came, he wanted it to be within her.

  She was going faster now, her hair swishing across his skin as if it was a sensory organ and her hands rubbing his thighs, her fingers traveling up his chest. She pinched both of his nipples at the same time, and he moaned and thought of his English teacher, the unsexiest woman he’d ever known, but it was almost too late. He felt himself ready to give way, but then Serena did something interesting with her fingers, pinching him in a particular place on his cock, and the overwhelming urge receded, replaced by a warm and tingling sensation. He realized that when he finally climaxed it would be a blast for the ages, and he’d be moaning and groaning as if he was dying.

  She moved up now, licking his belly, then his nipples, then his neck, and finally his ears. He wanted to kiss her, but she was avoiding that, as if saving it for last. Serena, Serena, he wanted to say. I love you, and I don’t care about our ages. I love you, don’t you understand?

  Try as he might, no words emerged.

  She purred in his ear like a satisfied cat, and he wanted to laugh, because it tickled. He felt sluggish. She was doing all the work, but that seemed just fine. He wouldn’t have minded getting on top, doing his share, but it was all so pleasurable that he didn’t want to interrupt her.

  He’d always fantasized that an older woman would know tricks that he didn’t, and it seemed to be true. She was doing things to him that he didn’t think possible. He wasn’t in a hurry to come, like he usually was. He always tried to please his partners, but usually it was the second time around that he succeeded. But she was holding him off, somehow, building his pleasure. He could sense her pleasure building as well.

  At last, she began to position herself above him, and he closed his eyes in anticipation.

  The door slammed, and it felt as if the entire room shook. Cary looked up to see Serena striding toward the bed in a nightgown with a furious look on her face. Had she gotten off him? But no, she was still perched above him, her head turned. The new Serena grabbed a lamp as she approached, raising it.

  Cary tried to make sense of it. How could Serena be in both places?

  A cold fear gripped him, and every part of his body but his cock lost all erotic feelings. But the “Serena” making such sweet love to him lowered herself onto him, ignoring the intruder. Instead of having the feeling that he was being held off, Cary now had the opposite feeling surge through his body, as if all the sexual tension and buildup he’d been experiencing—not only in the last hours, but ever since he’d met Serena—was converging on one point, and that point was his cock, and he was going to explode in such a mind-blowing orgasm that he feared his heart would also explode.

  The other Serena smashed the lamp on top of his lover. Then her hands went under the other’s arms, and she pulled the woman off of Cary’s cock just as he began to spurt. He watched in amazement as the jism flew high into the air, landing on him and on the two struggling women. He shouted at the top of his lungs and couldn’t tell if it was from pleasure or from pain and humiliation as he realized what had happened.

  He still couldn’t move as the two Serenas fought in the middle of the room. No, there was only one Serena: the other was the Succubus. The monster had dropped her disguise and turned into a wiry, spitting, screeching thing out of nightmare. The Succubus was quickly overcoming Serena, who looked like a rag doll in her hands. Serena went flying across the room, slamming against the wall and crumpling to the floor.

  But she was back up in an instant. She dropped the lamp she still held in one hand and ran at the Succubus with her hands out, going for the monster’s throat. The Succubus broke her grip and threw Serena to the floor. She climbed on top of Serena, lifting her talons to strike down. Blood was welling out of the wound in the Succubus’s head, and it splattered into Serena’s mouth, and suddenly she was reenergized.

  She threw the Succubus backward. A look of total astonishment came over the Succubus’s face, which by now was all angles: a sharp nose and ears, a slash for a mouth, filled with jagged teeth. S
erena leaped onto her, driving her to the floor.

  They struggled for control, with the Succubus slowly winning. Then Serena did something completely unexpected. Just as the creature was about to throw her off, she leaned down and bit into the other’s shoulder, clamping down with her teeth, refusing to let go. The more the Succubus struggled, the more chunks of flesh Serena ripped from her.

  The Succubus grew weaker while the woman grew stronger.

  The door flew open again, and Bobbie Jo and Adam ran into the room, both of them naked, followed moments later by Jeremy and Lucinda, who had taken the time to put some clothing on. Serena was still clamped down on the Succubus, raising her mouth just enough to spit Blood and flesh onto the floor before leaning in and tearing more bits off the Succubus. Serena looked up, distracted by the entrance of the others. The Succubus used that moment to break free, throwing her straight into the air.

  The Succubus ran at Bobbie Jo, grabbing her by the shoulders and hissing as if recognizing her. Bobbie Jo slammed her fist into the Succubus’s face, and the creature staggered to one side, slipping on the blood and landing on her back. Jeremy and Lucinda ran at the Succubus, armed with kitchen utensils they’d grabbed from a drawer of the kitchenette.

  The Succubus sprang up, snarling. She howled an ear-splitting scream, but the humans stood their ground. Suddenly, she ran for the door, and despite themselves, the humans moved aside.

  Then the Succubus was through the door and gone.

  Chapter 31

  Eisheth bolted down the hotel stairs, bowling over a maid, who screamed at the top of her lungs. She heard the footsteps of humans pursuing her. Even in her weakened state, she could outrun them. Eisheth caught a glimpse of her reflection as she ran toward the glass exit door.

  She looked like a harpy—or an emaciated evil angel, as Naamah once joked.

  Where could she hide? Where could she regain her strength?

  Eisheth fled the downtown area and traveled east, back into the High Desert. She scurried into the Badlands, hiding in the hollows between lava rock outcroppings, starting in alarm at the slightest sound. Her mind told her animal attacks were rare, but her body remembered. Every sense tingled like that of a hunted animal in a mindless frenzy to escape. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. All she could think was that she’d failed again, and now she was trapped, hiding in the wilderness like an animal.

  As night fell and the temperature plummeted, she shivered under a rocky overhang. Her clothing was gone, abandoned in the dark hotel room with her squandered last chance. She flinched, startled by the hoot of an owl, the swooping shadow of a bat. Insects crawled over her. She shuddered, remembering the black bear’s vicious attack the night she’d failed to take Douglas.

  She could almost hear Naamah’s mocking laugh, Agrat Bat chiding her for recklessness.

  It was so unfair. It was at times like this, when Eisheth was ugly and powerless, that she remembered that she had once been a Goddess. Memories ran through her like a blade, of men cutting her, draining her of Blood, leaving her hanging in the cold and dark. She didn’t know any more whether God or Satan existed, or if they did, which of them had set the horror of her life in motion, making the Daughters of Lilith the ultimate temptation for men.

  Eisheth had sworn never again to be so humiliated, so weakened that she couldn’t take the shape of a woman. It took a preposterously coincidental string of accidents, mistakes, and bad luck for such a thing to happen.

  Never had it happened so fast.

  She had let her anger get the better of her. She should have used the energy she gained from the Cullings in the bar to leave town immediately. What did it matter that a young man had scorned her? There were millions like him, all of who would gladly give themselves to her. She should have run, but her anger at Serena and the rejection of three separate Cullings had driven her to make imprudent decisions.

  Hatred animated her now. Sex was necessary for survival, not something she desired for itself. It was the way she could hurt men. Her hate was as strong as ever, keeping her alive when all else abandoned her.

  Eisheth was trying to hold onto some semblance of human shape, but now her features twisted back into their real shape, her skin turned hard and leathery, and her hair became a tangled, living nest of viperous tentacles. Her eyes absorbed light like the night creature, the cavern dweller she was. Her chin and cheeks were sharp and hard.

  I must find someone to seduce, she thought, and then laughed. It came out as a harpy’s screech.

  Seduce? There would be no seducing, not until she regained a pleasing illusionary form. She would be forced to suck up what sexual energy she could find, like a parasite, gaining just enough life force to survive.

  Eisheth stayed hidden through the day, but her hungers drew her out as darkness fell. She crept into town. She found another lowlife bar, but there were two burly men on either side of the door. She couldn’t have entered at any rate, no matter how low the standards of the establishment, no matter how desperate the men, no matter how dim the lights. Word of the massacre had no doubt spread by now.

  They would tear her apart if they found her, not knowing what she was but repulsed by her appearance. The reality beneath the illusion was too much, reminding them of their own crude cravings, their own weakness. Above all, she must avoid discovery.

  She hid in the alleyway behind the bar. Not long after, a woman came out with gave a man and gave him a quick, efficient blowjob. The man grunted and handed her a twenty-dollar bill. After the man went back inside, the woman puked just feet away from where Eisheth was hiding, then wiped her mouth and also went back inside.

  Eisheth fed off the meager sex.

  She stayed hidden in the alley that night, picking up the stray desires that infested men’s minds but that were rarely satiated.

  Eisheth was vulnerable at the worst possible moment, and it wasn’t clear whether she could come back again. She clearly saw her future, how she would hide during the day in places people never went, but were close enough for her to creep into their houses at night and prey on their dreams. Eisheth knew what a long, slow, and difficult process it would be, for she had made the interminable climb upward many times since that first time, when she and her sisters first gained their freedom.

  She would not fully recover until she convinced a man to fall in love with her, to give himself to her.

  She had no illusions of that happening any time soon. She knew too well how men would run, screaming and mindless, at the sight of her. Yes, she’d stay out of sight, in the shadows. She could sense lust, she could find it, but she couldn’t be part of it until she gained enough strength to look human.

  If Eisheth was lucky, after lapping up the wet dreams of teenage boys, the twisted fantasies of perverts, the lustful nights of newly consummated love, she would eventually regain the semblance of a human female: scrawny, ugly, but available. It might take years. After submitting to whatever sexual desires men who would take such a woman might have, which often left her wounded and more vulnerable than before, she might, after many more years, become attractive again.

  Her hunger would grow, but so too would her need to be careful, and it would be a constant struggle to constrain herself, to be patient. She’d fail, again and again, giving in to her destructive desires, and so be reduced again and again. Centuries of fighting men and her own desires, and she might again become the archetype she strived for: the ingénue, the cute girl next door, the fun one who could be one of the boys. She might once again seduce them.

  But it would take a long, long time. Eisheth couldn’t bear the thought of it. She’d been so sure she would never sink so low again.

  Come, my sisters! she thought. Save me!

  It was doubtful they would come. There was little familial bond between the Three Daughters of Lilith, only a common foe. They were stronger together—so much stronger that they overwhelmed the populace with rampant sexual desire. Yet they chose to live apart. After millennia together, exposed
to each other’s quirks and weaknesses, they couldn’t stand each other.

  Forgive me, my sisters. You are stronger than I.

  Naamah! Agrat Bat! Forgive my arrogance; you are better than me.

  Her sisters, arrogant and narcissistic, would respond only to flattery, submission, and degradation. Eisheth would have to efface herself again, and fall still further in their hierarchy. In the past, rather than humble herself, she would have accepted her punishment, fought her way back no matter how long it took. But her hatred of men, always there, always the motivating force of her existence, was so strong that she wanted to screech it to the skies: she wanted to hunt men down and tear them apart; she wanted to screw every damn one of them to death.

  Still no answer. They were ignoring her. They still blamed her for the Storm King.

  Those memories, of being beneath the earth, cold and hungry, came back more powerfully than ever, lending her power in her desperation. She cried out to her sisters, hoping the mental connection that allowed them to learn so easily from one another, that had saved them from enemies in centuries past, would serve her again:

  Join me, sisters. Let us destroy this place, let us remind them of our hatred, let us kill each and every one of them!

  Still there was no answer. They would not come to help her. But she knew of one thing they would come for.

  The Guardian is coming. He is on his way here.

  The icy thoughts of Agrat Bat came to her. I’m coming, dear sister.

  Seconds later came the softer voice of Naamah. I shall help you take revenge, sister.

  Eisheth felt her flesh transforming already, becoming softer and rounder. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a shop window. Her face was that of a human female: a little gaunt, the eyes a little desperate, but not repugnant.