by Sariah Skye
“It depends. The energy loss usually results in some sort of emotional imprint. She could become obsessed with one of us, and be unable to find her own love. It can also take a certain amount of time off her life, and we’re not willing to inflict that sort of pain on the opposite sex anymore,” he said, with a sad sigh.
Surprisingly, I found myself sad for him. “That is admirable, but what about you?”
He shrugged. “It’s not our fault we are this way. Except maybe the witches that cursed us of course. But it’s not fair that someone else should have to suffer because of something unfortunate that happened to us.”
I frowned. “So how do you survive?”
He gave a slight smile. “We have our ways. In all other ways, generally, we’re human. We eat, breathe, sleep, and even hope for love. But we cannot have a relationship, because too many encounters will effectively kill her, so…” He trailed off, his expression sullen again.
“So, what does that have to do with the murder last night?” I questioned.
He snapped back to reality. “That man that stepped on you last night—according to Trystan—was an incubus. He was preying on that woman—or trying to. Little did he know, that woman was a fae and could have killed him in an instant.”
My eyes widened. “Fae? Like a fairy?”
He considered this. “Sort of. Not the type you’re used to; there are many kinds.”
I laughed shortly. “So—wait. You’re telling me there are demons, witches, and fairies out there?”
He nodded. “Yes. Many, many things out there that are unknown to humanity.”
“How—how do they stay hidden? How do they survive? How—” I began firing off questions.
He held up his hand, stopping me. “It’s a very long story, and I’ll explain it all to you, if you like. “
“I…” I stammered, trying to wrap my head around what he was saying. “So, if he was going to end up killed by you anyway, why not let her do the job?”
“Ah, because fae and incubi don’t mix. She could end up taking his energy, and all that he’s collected over the years, and become very powerful. Most incubi—and succubi respectively—know better than to fraternize with fae. But Trystan thinks he was high on something, trying to ease the withdrawal of not having copulated with a female in some time.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” I wrinkled my nose. “Other than he was icky.”
Mathias chuckled. “Because we police this area. If we sense anyone preying on someone else, we dispatch them. It’s not right. Generally, we’re the only incubi in the region. When one another comes around, well…we know about it.”
I smirked. “So you’re demon police? Sweet. That sort of is like the Men in Black.”
Mathias grinned. “Something like that. You know, you’re taking this really well. I expected some sort of denial or something.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t say I believed you. I’m just listening.”
“Ah yes. Okay then.” Mathias stroked his slightly-bearded chin pensively. “That still leaves the little matter of what you are.”
I scoffed. “Oh come on…”
“Seriously, has anything ever been strange in your life? Unexplainable? Have you ever been able to do things that just don’t make sense?” He suggested.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course not.”
“Have people ever reacted to you in a certain way?” Mathias pressed.
“I—” I started, but closed my mouth.
He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “I knew it.”
I defiantly turned away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Mathias laughed shortly, and grinned. “Right. Well…I think you do. There is something different about you. Not bad, just different.” Mathias rose from the chair. He reached into an inside pocket of his suit jacket.
My eyes widened, half expecting him to take out a gun or some sort of weird supernatural gadget that would vaporize me. Thankfully, he only produced a business card. He crossed the room with a single stride of his long legs and handed it to me. “Ava, you’re obviously a smart and strong woman. You need to figure out if you can trust what I said or not, but I think if you think about it, you’ll understand I’m telling the truth. And if you have some sort of latent abilities, leaving them unchecked is dangerous. If you are what I think you are—well…”
I lifted a brow. “And what do you think I am?”
He sighed thoughtfully, as if debating something. Then he asked me something very surprising. “What do you know about your father? Are you close to him?”
I blinked, taken aback; wanting to say something snarky, but I couldn’t. The subject had always been raw with me, despite how I respected my mother’s wishes to not ask more about him. “I don’t have one. I’ve never met him.”
He nodded slowly. “Uh-huh. What does your mother know about him?”
I shrugged, looking away so he couldn’t see the pain in my eyes. “Not much. Apparently, I’m the product of a one-night stand.”
Mathias was quiet. “And, she never married after that?”
“No.”
Mathias raised an eyebrow. “See where I’m going with this?”
I glared. “No, I don’t think I do.”
Mathias shook his head with a grin. “Products of a joining between a human and an incubus are extremely rare, though the chance increases if the human isn’t fully human. Even still, it’s incredibly rare. Very rare.”
I remained thoughtfully silent.
She could become obsessed with one of us, and be unable to find her own love.
Mathias’ words rang repeatedly in my mind as he stood there, flicking the little card in between his fingers; as if waiting for me to have a revelation.
“So…” I finally said after a few moments of stun. “What would that make me?”
“If you are what I think you are, you could be pretty powerful indeed and very valuable to many out there who could use you for something… insidious,” he said, his tone hushed.
“What am I?”
“I think you’re a cambion. The child of a human and an incubus. Usually that joining triggers something in the human genetics, and can give you some interesting abilities. But if you don’t know how to use them, they can come out in odd ways,” he explained calmly.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I see…” I trailed off.
Mathias crossed the room before me, and knelt to my eye level. He reached for my hand, gently. I tried to pull away, but I found I didn’t really want to. I wanted to reject everything this man—this mystery—was saying. But his earnest, warm brown eyes made it very difficult.
He held my hand between his as his eyes searched mine. I swear I thought I saw his turn colors; from a light brown hazel to a dark brown, but I had to be seeing things. Right?
“Ava, if you are what I think you are, you could be in danger.” He slipped the card into my hand, and closed my fingers around it. “But you have to decide you want help; I’m not going to force you. I’ll keep checking on you every now and then—myself or Trystan, Sebastian or Xander will. Because if anyone finds out about what you are... it could be very dangerous.”
I didn’t speak; I just clutched the card in my hands. He patted my fingers and stood, stepping towards the door. “Our contact information is on that card, if you decide you want help. We’ll be there for you, any time. Day or night.”
He took one more glance at me before he left, offering a smile before he disappeared.
CHAPTER 6
I escaped to my room after Mathias left, crawled into bed, and laid under the covers. I held his business card in my hand for most of the rest of the day, just staring at it.
“Roman Rescue” it read, with an address, phone number and email; a silhouette of a bear around the wording. Not his name, or Trystan’s, or whoever. It seriously looked like a business, but what they were in the habit of rescuing was beyond me. Lost little supernaturals? Evil-doing demons?
I did
n’t think; I just lay there…stunned.
Mathias had to be full of shit. He had to be. There was no such thing. Right? If they were, how could they remain hidden for so long?
I ran these thoughts over and over in my mind, as I tossed and turned in bed. I felt anxious and bothered. And my instincts kept tugging at my brain, saying that there was at least some truth to what Mathias was saying, no matter how crazy it sounded.
I glanced again at the business card, raising a brow. Stretching out my arm, I grasped for my tablet on the nightstand by my bed. There wasn’t a website or anything official, but if they existed surely there’d be something online?
I typed in “Roman Rescue, Wild Township, Minnesota” in the browser tab, and searched. Nothing came up. I couldn’t find Wild Township listed either—whatever and wherever that was. I frowned, flinging my tablet down on the bed beside me in frustration. Well, searching was getting me nowhere.
I stretched, eyeing the clock quickly on my nightstand; it was nearly 8pm. I’d been in bed most of the day after Mathias left. I must have fallen asleep at some point, though I don’t recall doing it. I certainly didn’t feel rested.
My stomach growled then, reminding me that I missed dinner. Rather, I missed fixing myself dinner. I groaned, and decided to fumble lazily to the fridge for sustenance. After a quick scan of the contents, I found nothing suitable. Meaning, nothing I couldn’t just shove in my piehole; it all required cooking. Cooking. Feh. Summer was the cook. I was a terrible cook. I could maybe cook a mean pot of that mac and cheese in the blue box, but that was it. I was even an expert on burning toast, and messing up water boiling by letting it scald the pot.
It really was a skill.
“Hmm…” The thought of mac and cheese sounded good. I rummaged through the nearby white cupboards, hoping—no, praying—that I hadn’t eaten it all.
I had.
“Fuck.” I slammed the cupboard door shut, and pouted like a toddler in the kitchen, complete with stomping feet. My stomach growled once again, indicating that it still liked the idea of macaroni and cheese.
My eyes traveled towards the door that joined my mother’s and my house together, and I couldn’t force myself to go over. I knew she’d give me crap about my appearance, maybe question me about Mathias and I didn’t want that; even if she did have the cheesy goodness. And there was always the chance that she didn’t have it either, making the trip pointless.
Reluctantly, I decided a trip to the all-night grocer a few blocks away was in order. Even as sloppy as I was, I decided that was a better fate than having to deal with my mother right now.
After hearing—and processing—what Mathias had said, even though I wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t full of shit, I was decidedly a little peeved with my mother. Not that it was her fault if my father had indeed been an incubus. She’d been under a spell, basically. If it was true.
The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. My mother was bamboozled by a sex-demon, instead of being a trampy little whore.
I cringed at the thought. No, neither situation was really any better.
Shuddering, I went back to my bedroom to throw on a bra—I didn’t want my tits poking someone’s eyes out. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror atop my vanity as I passed. I nearly gagged; I looked like I’d been run over by a truck, picked on by ravens, and then crapped on by the neighborhood dog. It wasn’t good. My hair was dissheveled, the skin on my face was dry and dull; and purple pooled under my puffy eyes. No way was I leaving the house like this. If Summer saw me she’d literally kill me.
Literally.
Since the house was owned by my own mother, it was decided that it was fair that I got the bedroom that was attached to the bathroom, much to Summer’s dismay (I loved her but let’s be real: I loved an adjoining bathroom more.) There was another bathroom attached to the kitchen for Summer, and guest usage (on the rare occasion we had guests) but this one was mine. All mine. Stripping completely bare, I stumbled into the adjoining bathroom, and tossed myself in the shower.
I didn’t bother shaving anything; not like anyone was ever going to see it. Even in the middle of summer, my legs were starting to resemble the prickliest Saguaro cactus there was. I didn’t care. Even though it was in the 70s for lows right now here in Minnesota—and about as humid as the Florida Everglades (not an exaggeration, either!)—I would just wear pants. I was only going to the store.
After washing my hair and face quickly, and rinsing off under the hot spray, I reached for one of my plush purple towels I kept stacked up outside of the shower on a shelf, and wrapped it around myself. I grabbed a smaller one for my hair, and wrapped it around my head.
I checked out my reflection in the foggy bathroom mirror, smearing off the condensation with my palm. “Eh.” My eyes were less puffy, skin flakes gone. I wouldn’t win any modeling contracts, but I at least looked clean.
It’d have to do.
I left the bathroom and got dressed in my bedroom. I parted the purple curtains to my closet and searched for something suitable for a jaunt to the grocery store. After selecting some purple hipsters from the dresser and a matching purple bra that was stretched and faded (and very comfortable), I found some black leggings, and a gray t-shirt with the Minnesota Twins baseball team logo across the front, and pulled everything on.
I worked my hair into a thick topknot on top of my head, fastening it with a purple hair binder and decided I was presentable enough.
Yes, I had a thing for purple. Pretty much all the décor in my bedroom and bathroom is purple. Purple curtains, purple bedspread, lavender and purple painted furniture...yeah, I was a purple person. My birthstone was even purple (February).
“Sierra!” I called to her; she was passed out on the (yes, purple) rug on the floor, her butt pressed up to the air conditioning vent. She didn’t respond. I snickered, grabbing my keys from the nightstand and jingling them. “Ride?” I called to her.
She was awake and up in a second flat. Not bad for a large dog.
I hated to bring her just to leave her in the car, but I wasn’t stupid enough to go anywhere myself as a woman at night. Sierra’s massive size (she was about 105 lbs) and possessive nature would generally scare away any would be attackers. Bringing her along made me feel better. I could have brought my pearl-handled antique pistol, but the dog was probably much scarier. I had a separate remote for my car doors; I’d crack the window and leave the AC on for her. I’d only be in the store for about ten minutes, tops. Just enough time to grab my macaroni and cheese, and maybe some fizzy water. Oh, and milk. And a case of wine, perhaps.
Poor dog was going to be in my car forever.
Shoving my phone in my purple Vera Bradley paisley patterned crossbody bag (of course), I called for Sierra to follow me. No leash was needed for her; she was extremely obedient. She’d follow me off a cliff if I asked her to. Best dog in the world.
No, I wouldn’t actually ask her to follow me off a cliff, okay?
I locked the door behind us, and she followed me to my Toyota (not purple. Damnit). I opened the driver’s side door. She climbed in with little effort, and scooted to the passenger’s side. As soon as I got in and cranked the engine, I opened the window for her, and she was in heaven, hanging her head out the window, drool flying off her floppy muzzle to accumulate on my back window.
Yum. My poor car.
It was a cloudy night, with little breeze, and high dewpoint. Normally, I’d crank the air conditioning, but for the dog I opted for the window open. For a Saturday night, the roads were empty. It was only 8:45 pm, and that seemed strange to me.
A flash of lightning ahead of me in the clouds and a low rumble of thunder told the story of why the roads were probably empty; a storm was moving in.
I stepped on the gas a little, deciding I better hurry up and get home before it started downpouring. Summer storms in Minnesota could be quite nasty, and normally I kept up with the weather but today? I was completely out of it.
/> I glimpsed up at my rearview mirror and saw a pair of bright headlights behind me on the road. I didn’t think much of it at first, until I came to a stop at Lyndale Avenue; one of the busier intersections.
The car behind me inched dangerously close to my bumper, the image of its headlights jerking and bouncing in my mirror. My heart skipped a beat; just like the guy who tried to run me off the road yesterday.
Sierra let a low growl rumble from her throat. Her ears were perked up, and though it was hard to see her fur stand on end due to the sheer amount of it, you could clearly see her unease.
I reached over to stroke her back gently. “It’s okay Sisi.” I spoke, but watching the car continue to inch forward had me unconvinced.
The light flashed green ahead, and I sped forward slowly, hoping that he’d just get in the next lane and go around me. Please don’t be the same creep from last night…please, please please!
He didn’t go in the next lane, and continued to creep behind me as slow as I was going even though the road was completely empty.
I swallowed nervously. I shut Sierra’s window, and double checked the doors were locked on the panel to my left. Crime was rare in this part of town, but not unheard of. And clearly, this wasn’t the first this had happened to me in twenty-four hours. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Now I’d wished I’d brought my pistol, I thought nervously. Which was stupid, because I couldn’t really shoot it—but it might be a better deterrent after all.
A screech of tires startled me, and the car behind me propelled forward, its front tapping on my bumper, lurching Sierra and I forward. I threw out a protective arm to prevent her from flying forward.
“What in the actual fuck?” I sped up and quickly switched lanes.
I glared out of the window as a black sedan went sailing past me. I tried to peer into the windows, but they were darkly tinted. Of course. The car probably belonged to some drug dealer and was late to make a sale. Didn’t explain the dude yesterday…but maybe I just had really bad timing. Yeah, right.