Blood of the Succubus

by McGeary, Duncan

  Thank you, sisters, she thought as she felt their energy combining for the first time in many years. Together, they were many times stronger than each of them alone. Satan had decreed long ago that the Daughters of Lilith would not be easily overcome.

  It was time this generation of men and women learned it.

  Chapter 32

  “Don’t let her get away!” Serena shouted.

  Adam and Bobbie Jo ran out of the room, and after a moment’s hesitation, Jeremy and Lucinda followed.

  Released from whatever spell had held him down, Cary groaned and sat up unsteadily. He’d had some vigorous sex before, but nothing that ever drained him like this. Serena lay on the floor, breathing deeply. He rolled off the bed and crawled toward her. He stopped with his head over hers, and she looked up at him with a glint of triumph in her eyes. Blood smeared her mouth and chin.

  “I got her,” she said.

  “You sure did,” Cary said.

  Serena got to her feet. “We have to go after her,” she said, and then her knees gave out and she almost fell. Cary put his arm around her to steady her. She put her head into the crook of his neck. A warm sensation flowed through him, touching his heart, and nearly overwhelmed him. He cupped Serena’s head protectively with his free hand.

  “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  Serena started laughing, and she couldn’t seem to stop. Cary stared down at her in surprise.

  “I’ve never in my life felt better,” she said. “I thought she was going to kill me. I could feel her overcoming me. It was a last resort, to bite her like that. But once I did, this energy filled me, and I felt her weakening. If I could’ve kept her down a little longer, I would have had her.”

  Bobbie Jo and Adam returned, flushed and breathing hard, as she was speaking.

  “Good,” said Bobbie Joe. “I wish you’d killed the bitch.”

  “I don’t know if she can be killed,” Serena said. Color was returning to her face, and she no longer needed to lean against Cary. She gently removed herself from his arms, not looking at him. Her voice was firmer. “But it will be hard for the Succubus to keep a pleasing form after this. Hell, she may lose all form. It’s happened before, where she becomes but a legend, a figment, a nightmare; not completely gone, but diminished, so much so that there is nothing to hang her illusions on.”

  Jeremy and Lucinda came back into the room. “She got away,” Lucinda said. “Sorry. Whatever she was, she was fast. She didn’t even look human.”

  “We’ll find her,” Serena assured them. “She won’t be able to seduce anyone now. She’ll have to subsist off of the wet dreams of teenagers, lurking outside their homes, soaking up just enough life force to stay conscious.”

  “I say leave her like that,” Bobbie Jo said. “Serves her right.”

  Serena shook her head. “She’ll come back, eventually. It might take hundreds of years, but she’ll find a way. It’s happened before. No…we have to finish her. If she can’t be killed, we need to at least make her so diminished that she won’t tempt anyone for a long time.”

  Cary was staring down at the Blood puddle, and an odd thought came to him. He leaned over and dipped his finger into the Blood. Before he could have second thoughts, he put the finger into his mouth.

  Serena looked like she was ready to object, and then she looked curious. She swiped her finger across the still-wet Blood on her chin and put it into Cary’s mouth.

  A surge of energy ran through him, as if he’d just slept for ten hours.

  “Can I have some of that stuff?” Bobbie Jo asked.

  Serena hesitated. “I think it will be all right.”

  Bobbie Jo grabbed a towel from the sink and soaked it in warm water. She came over and wiped up the blood. “I’ll just take this with me,” she said, leading Adam out of the room.

  Serena turned to Jeremy and Lucinda. “Go back to bed. We’ll meet up in the morning.” The teenagers left too, shutting the door firmly behind them.

  And then they were alone.

  Cary was suddenly embarrassed, feeling as if he had cheated on Serena.

  She seemed unfazed. She sat down on the bed and sighed. “Can I stay here tonight?” she asked. “No sex. I just don’t want to be alone.”

  He nodded. He was totally spent. Sex was the last thing on his mind.

  Serena went into the bathroom and started the shower. Cary waited in bed, still naked. He usually slept nude. I can’t very well wear my clothes to bed, he thought, then wondered if he should. Despite what he’d thought a few minutes before, he was beginning to come back to life. He got up and put on his T-shirt and underwear.

  Serena came out, having discarded her bloody nightgown. She was wrapped in a towel. She didn’t look at Cary when she slipped into bed, and she lay down at the very edge of the bed, as far away from him as she could get.

  Cary realized his entire body had become rigid. He felt himself stirring at Serena’s nearness. He could hear her soft breathing. And then, just as he was ready to scoot closer, maybe cradle her in his arms, she let out a loud snort, followed by a long snore.

  He smiled to himself. Just in time.

  He was falling asleep to the sound of her sawing wood when a thought came to him that jolted him awake. The entire time with the Succubus, he’d been all but paralyzed, and neither he nor the Succubus had made a sound. So how did Serena know anything was happening?

  He smiled blissfully and gazed down at her. He gently pushed her hair away from her face. The lines on her face were gone, as if she were suddenly ten years younger. Her slight double chin was gone as well. She murmured in her sleep and turned, exposing her breasts.

  If she had been sexy before, she was irresistible now.

  He took her in his arms, and she murmured softly. He felt himself growing hard, and with more willpower than he’d ever shown in his life, he disentangled himself. He put a pillow down between his legs to avoid pressing his erection against her while he slept, not sure if that would be welcome. To his great surprise, he was content.

  From the room next door, Bobbie Jo howled an orgasm to end all orgasms.

  Good for her, Cary thought. For him, for now, holding Serena was more than enough.

  ***

  Serena woke to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Cary had his back to her, and now he was the one at the very edge of the bed.

  She shook her head, not quite believing that she’d asked this of him—or of herself. It was unfair to sleep in the same bed with him—she knew how much he wanted her—but she wanted his nearness even as she resisted his sex.

  Am I testing him? she asked herself. If so, he’s passing with flying colors.

  Serena acted tough, but the Succubus scared her every moment of the day and night except when Cary was near. What he could do that she couldn’t do, she didn’t know, but somehow she felt safer when he was with her.

  As she got back in bed, she put the extra pillows between them, trying not to be obvious about it.

  I’m a bitch, she thought. But I need him close.

  She was asleep before she could change her mind about the whole arrangement.

  Serena dreamed that Cary was making love to a tall, blonde woman who knew tricks that Serena had never even considered. Jealousy grew in her even though she realized that she was dreaming, that it wasn’t real. She jolted awake.

  Cary was grinding against the bed sheets, moaning. He exploded with a gasp, but didn’t awaken. He turned over, and his erection pushed up the sheets and didn’t go down again. He started moving rhythmically again.

  Serena leaned on her elbows and watched him. Should I wake him up? Should I give him what he wants?

  No, she’d sworn to track down the Succubus who had killed her son before she ever gave her heart to another. She was close. But when it was done…well, who knew?

  Let him sleep, she decided. She slid her fingers down the length of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble of several days’ growth. Let him dream. It was his
mind, his life, and she had no right to interfere.

  She fell back to sleep.

  Chapter 33

  Agrat Bat was in the Mediterranean on the biggest yacht she’d ever seen (and she’d seen some big ones) when she got Eisheth’s distress signal. She was just as glad. The big vessel was as empty as its owner. Perry Simpkins may have been a billionaire, but he had no friends, and his family wanted nothing to do with him—which was quite an accomplishment when you considered the billions that the man would someday pass on to his heirs.

  Agrat Bat had thought about trying for that winning lottery ticket, but after a week on the choppy water listening to the inane prattling of a man who had probably lucked into his money, she decided against it. He’d gotten drunk one night and hit her, and she decided no amount of money was worth putting up with that. Besides, money came and went, but the life force was precious.

  She was beginning to suspect that when it came to the consummation, the payoff would be as empty as the man’s heart. He’d picked her up in Cannes, and his money, if not his charm, had dazzled her at first.

  “I thought Grace Kelly was dead,” he’d said as a come-on. She’d heard the comparison before, though not so crassly put. “Hamburger in a can, old Grace,” he finished, making it worse.

  Her then-companion, a jaded movie star with a declining career, knew Agrat Bat for the shallow gold digger she pretended to be. Not necessarily a promising quality in a Cull, but he helpfully whispered in her ear, “That’s the man who owns that gossip site, Private Matters…he’s the one you want,” thereby confirming for Agrat Bat that the actor was too cynical to fall in love or give all of himself to anyone.

  So Agrat Bat abandoned her fading movie star and joined up with the billionaire. Big mistake. The movie star was at least entertaining. He didn’t take offense at her abandoning him in the least. “You go, girl,” he’d said, grinning, and she considered returning to him for round two later on.

  Private Matters had started off as a gossip magazine—well, it still was, only online now instead of on paper. Simpkins managed to leverage it into a multimedia empire with a conservative agenda. Agrat Bat didn’t care about politics, but she thought any man who caused that much controversy must be interesting. It just went to show, you can’t always tell by the trappings.

  Her biggest coup in recent years had been a computer tycoon. She’d taken him slowly, savoring his essence, as he became thinner with every public appearance. Finally, she couldn’t resist his delectable taste any longer, and she took all of him, and it filled her so that she hadn’t had to take another life for years. She was amazed at the outpouring of grief that greeted his demise, the glowing biographies. Admittedly, his life force was strong, but far darker than anyone suspected. She happened to like the spice of a dark soul once in a while; actually, she preferred it.

  And yet, Agrat Bat was bored with the men who took and took and took from the world, having to be taught to give to their partners. The females were another flavor altogether. Belinda….

  Agrat Bat smiled at the memory. It had been far too long.

  Belinda lived in the America now, and she must be…what, ninety? Really? Had it been that long? But it didn’t matter—if she were still alive, a few drops of Blood would take care of that.

  Belinda hadn’t been happy with Agrat Bat the last time they’d met, but that didn’t matter either—the Blood would take care of that too. They could satisfy each other all day and all night, and no harm would come to either of them.

  If only the Daughters of Lilith could regenerate through the female life force, instead of just the male life force. That would have been heaven.

  After Eisheth’s call, Agrat Bat decided to end her dalliance with the billionaire that very night. Too bad, really. Simpkins was in Cannes because he was thinking of starting a movie company. It was easy to implant the idea in his head that his first movie should be about a Succubus. Dangerous, perhaps, but the temptation was nearly irresistible.

  “You could call it The Daughters of Lilith,” she had said.

  “I like it,” he’d said, lying on his back in bed like a beached whale. “No, I love it. I see the lead actress looking something like you. Have you done any acting?”

  “I’ve acted my whole life, darling,” she had purred. “But never in front of a camera.” It was never going to happen, no matter how much she liked the idea. Cameras couldn’t pick up the sexual allure of the Succubae. Indeed, their image barely registered.

  “Get in bed, bitch,” Simpkins had said. His tone was playful, but they were the same words he’d used a couple of nights before when he was drunk, and that hadn’t been playful at all. When she’d hesitated in bed—not because she wasn’t going to have sex with him, but because she was trying to figure out how to satisfy him without letting him penetrate her—he had slapped her. It had taken all her willpower not to tear his head off.

  Agrat Bat was quite skilled, as were her sisters, at satisfying men, making them fall for her, without actually having intercourse. They used sex of every kind and description, but saved that one act for special occasions—Culls, for example. It wasn’t hard to pull off, usually. For most men, it only heightened anticipation for the final consummation.

  Now Agrat Bat went down on the billionaire, as she had on all the nights before. He was at a fever pitch, begging to be released, but she sensed when he was about to unload and backed away each time.

  She was a couple of days early, but it wasn’t easy to fend off the selfish, narcissistic types who were used to getting their way.

  He was begging now, muttering, “Please…please…fuck me.”

  She maneuvered herself down past his belly and onto his cock, and started rocking gently. Simpkins came within seconds, bellowing, nearly bucking her off.

  “Best damn sex I’ve ever had,” he muttered. He made a motion as if he wanted to roll over and go to sleep.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “I’m not done.”

  “I don’t think…” he started to say. Then, “Oh, wow.”

  This time, she slammed up and down on him until he was practically whimpering, but she didn’t hold him off; she made him come as soon as possible.

  His belly was flattening, his cock growing larger, and he was suddenly energetic, which was a nice surprise.

  “Didn’t think I could still do that,” he muttered, grinning up at her. Then his grin faltered as he glimpsed her face, her true face. It always happened in the end, partly because Agrat Bat couldn’t be bothered to hide herself any longer, but mostly because nature demanded it: This creature is taking your soul, killing you, and you must look upon it, you must know it is happening; you, human, must despair as the last of you is drained.

  Simpkins didn’t last long after that. He was wheezing by the fourth climax, too weakened to push her off. “My heart…” he gasped. “Stop, my heart can’t take it.”

  “It isn’t your heart,” Agrat Bat laughed, her voice guttural. Her blonde hair was a scraggly mess of grey; her blue eyes were black, and her chin came to a point so sharp it could cut. “It’s all of you. I’m taking you into me, every little last bit.”

  His eyes bulged out, and he came one last time, and with that last tiny spurt, more air than liquid, his tiny little soul moved into her.

  But Agrat Bat was far from satiated. She threw his body over the side of the yacht, bathed, and then Culled the three crewmen she had been cultivating on the side. One was surprising full of life force, a young man who was moonlighting for the summer. She wondered briefly about him. What secrets in his life gave him stature in his society?

  She left the captain alive, letting him believe he was the exception, until they were just outside of port, then drained him. She put on her white one-piece bathing suit, looking more like Grace Kelly than ever, dove overboard, and swam to shore.

  Laughing, she slicked her hair back as she left the water, ignoring the pathetic humans who stared at her, open-mouthed, men and women alike. She smiled.
None could resist her.

  Over the centuries, she’d ignored Eisheth’s cries for help more often than not, but this time she thought she could risk helping her, especially if Naamah came also. The Daughters of Lilith were long overdue for another Summer of Love. She laughed softly. That was fun. Interesting things happened when they were together, for their powers multiplied and expanded, and their appetites grew. They were the party girls from hell, and men everywhere desired them, and at the same time, they feared them for the ball-busters they were.

  ***

  Naamah loved a conquest, the hotter the better. Unlike her sisters, Naamah enjoyed sex, especially the final round, which she often delayed as long as possible, enjoying it while she could. It seemed a shame to take a man during their first time together, before he learned her rhythms and preferences, giving her the exquisite pleasure that usually accompanied repeat lovers.

  This was true with Pietro.

  Naamah was enjoying her latest conquest. (She didn’t like to say victim.) He was cute, dumb, and sweet natured, with a body to die for (him, of course, not her), and she enjoyed having him around.

  Pietro and his friends had been scrambling around the ruins of a crusader fort on the island of Malta, ignoring all the off-limits signs. The boys spotted her and came bounding over the stones, gathering around her like puppies anticipating a snack.

  She looked them over carefully, raising her finger as she recited the children’s rhyme, running a hand over the bronze skin of each boy as she passed, counting them off. “Eeny, meenie, miney, moe, catch a monkey by the toe…”

  She only regretted she wasn’t able to take them all, but that many missing boys would be noticed.

  She knew which one she wanted already, of course, and her finger landed on the biggest, most vibrant of them, a lithe boy tanned dark brown, with startling blue eyes and sun-bleached hair.

  Naamah took him back to her “primitive” hut on the beach, which was incredibly expensive on account of the Wi-Fi and air-conditioning. She wore a bright yellow sundress with nothing underneath. “Slinky” was the way she’d heard herself described (often followed by words like “slut” or “whore,” but she didn’t really care). She and Pietro were like mirror images of each other: small and brown and vibrant, except for the fact that she had black hair to his blond and brown eyes to his blue—and the fact that she would soon swallow his soul.