Page 28 of The Wickedness of Man

Thinking I’d get even just threemonthsin the cells was looking downright cheery as to what would happen now that I’d not only fallen under one succubus’s command, but then had willingly—verywillingly—slept with another. I’d never handled a single instance of this type of demon since I’d graduated nearly a decade ago, and now, two succubi in a single day. I touched Magda’s shoulder and she mumbled softly in her sleep. I still wanted to touch her; hold her. I wanted to lose myself inside of her again, enveloped in the smell of her skin and hair, and the sound of her cries when?—

“Goddammit,” I whispered. “Get out of bed and leave, Caleb. Just get up and get the hell out of here before this gets any worse for either of you.”

The only thing I could think about was how much I wanted her to wake up and look at me with that same pleading gaze. I slipped out of the bed, looking for my clothes, trying desperately to ignore the stiffness of my cock. I’d almost tried kissing her awake. Even now, it was taking every bit of willpower not to get back into bed with her and just forget about the world outside of this room; outside of her.

“I’ve got to get back before this entire block gets torn apart while they look for me.”

Because then they’ll findher.

My punishment was pretty much assured. I’d completelypoofedoff the grid after announcing I was going after asuccubus. Additionally, thanks to the fact that, owing to some kind of demon-charmed haze, I’d been sent away when the other agents arrived as backup, it was going to look like I’d pulled a runner. They would find me though. They always found the agents that ran.

I stared down at the small, star-shaped brand on my inner right arm. It was a mark I’d always hated. No one outside of the organization would possibly recognize it; would most likely assume it was a scar.

When Jax told me I’d been “selected” when I was fifteen, I thought at first he’d meant for adoption. To my great dismay, however, I’d had to listen to him explain that it was just the fancy term the Church used when we’d been “adopted” by the organization. It was kinda hard to forget that day. As if being forced to go to mass that morning hadn’t been torture enough, me and a huge group of boys and a couple girls then spent the afternoon lined up like cattle to get branded with a hot poker.

To remind you of your devotion to Christ,the bishops told us, even as the smell of searing flesh and the sobs of teenagers filled the room. It didn’t take a genius to understand what they’d really meant was:You belong to us now; don’t ever forget it.

I walked over to Magda’s bag, searching through it briefly, but couldn’t find any paper or writing materials. Instead, I opened her phone with her thumbprint again, feeling a bit guilty as I did so, and typed a new text message to her on the screen.

I’m sorry I had to leave without saying goodbye. Get home as soon as you can, and don’t tell anyone where you went, who you saw, or that you’ve ever heard the name Dr. Lowe. If anyone ever approaches you and asks about her, lie your ass off. I know this doesn’t make much sense, and you have no reason to trust me, but please know I’m trying to protect you. I wish I could explain more, but I think it’s safer if you just try to live your life like normal. Even if you’re a succubus now. — Caleb

As an afterthought, I added:

Don’t trust anyone associated with the Church. Ever.

I didn’t send the message; just left it open on the screen and put the phone on the nightstand. Hopefully, she’d find the message when she woke up. I picked up my pants and underwear from the floor. Those were fine, but the shirt was pretty much a loss. I was down at least three buttons, and there was a hole along the seam. Still, I slipped it over my head, pulled on my holster and replaced the gun, and then buttoned my jacket up to cover everything.

With a last look at the sleeping vixen in the bed behind me, I kissed her gently on the forehead, then hurried out into the hall and took the stairs rather than the elevator, hoping the movement and night air might take some of this need out of me. I had to lead them away from the area; let myself get found elsewhere. Had I been just an hour or two late, I’d have gotten a reprimand; perhaps even punishment detail, but it had been overtwelvehours since I’d last spoken to Home. If they knewabout Magda—not just that she had gone to visit a succubus, but that she herself hadbecomeone, then…

Need a story. Need a way to get out of this and keep from revealing anything to do with her.

What little I knew about succubi was that it took an incubus—not another succubus—to make another. The method in which Magda had been made into a succubus after encountering the good doctor would likely be of great interest to the organization. Interrogating her would just be the start. I couldn’t bring myself to think of what they’d doaftershe’d answered their questions.

I jogged a couple blocks; it was close to three a.m. now, and bars and other late-night places would be closed or closing soon. Since there wasn’t much in the way of recreation on this side of town, it took a while to spot anything viable, but I finally found a payphone on the corner of a street near a bank. Payphones were hard to find in this day and age, and the fact that it had what looked like a cross on its side and was well within sight of the bank ATM’s cameras told me it had been placed there intentionally, by someone who’d wanted to be able to see anyone using it.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had to call in on a monitored line—the last time had been when I’d been hunting a vampire carving a bloody swathe through the local homeless population.

I slowed down as I approached, letting my feet slide a bit, hoping to feign more exhaustion than I actually felt. I knew I was on camera now, so I had to act natural, but it was hard, considering that ever since I’d woken up next to Magda, I’d been feeling great—fantastic, even—apart from the aching in every part of my lower half… but eventhatI couldn’t complain about.

I pulled the accordion door of the phone booth open and was greeted with the pungent odor of piss. Clearly someone had used this as a urinal—possibly more than once. I left the door ajar, both because I needed the air, and because there was no needfor privacy this late at night. I lifted the receiver; no dial tone, no sound. I pressed the plunger a couple of times before a smallclickalerted me to someone having connected the line, but no one spoke. I took the chance.

“Recon team, agent reporting in,” I said.

There was nothing for a moment, then I heard a series of tapping noises—typing, possibly.

“Your verification number please,” said the woman on the other end.

“0648992-IEC.”

“Your file has been flagged by the organization. State the reason for your delay.”

I hesitated. “I…” Any lies I could think of wouldn’t serve me. Keeping track of my story would just be harder if they—ratherwhen—they put me in a cell with an investigator. “I attempted to confront the target?—”

“Your orders were to maintain distance?” Though there was the lilt of a question in the operator’s tone, I recognized it as a statement. There was reproach as well. Irritation prickled my spine, and I fought to maintain my temper.

“Yes. I did act against orders.”

“State your reason.”

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