Page 10 of Succubus Sins
Bam.
Bam.
Crunch.
A grin smeared across my face.
I didn’t mean to enjoy it. Yet, how I loved the sound of flesh on flesh. A little voice told me just to relish my handiwork. Those two murderers deserved what was coming to them.
I turned my wrist to reset my watch timer. The purple numbers pleasantly glowed as they counted down in a rush. I didn’t mind taking off three hours for this. One hour per man I’d fed enough sexual energy to overcome their will. Two murderers and one dead-beat dad dealt with. Worth it.
The thought of Sister Maxine’s judgmental frown splattered across my vision.
One violent shake of my head and my thoughts flung her out as quickly as they’d materialized. No sense getting myself riled up. There was only one thing I needed from Sister Maxine, and then she’d never see me again.
Cars rushed on the wet pavement as I crossed the lower street to the better part of town. This side had lights all over the place and I squinted—no, not lights. The sun was rising.
An orange glow bled above that cathedral’s pike and I hurried my gait. The morning’s heat and nighttime’s events had made me work up a sweat and I looked forward to the cool air of the cathedral. Whoever came up with that phrase “sweating like a whore in church” clearly didn’t realize they had the best air-conditioning in Seattle and the most expensive insulation to keep it in. None of that cheap crap for God.
Even if I was enthusiastic to escape the heat, I couldn’t help but slow to a saunter as my gaze was drawn to the bursts of broken reds in the stained glass. I desperately tried not to think of belly-man’s face.
Calling upon my skills of suppressing emotion, which were probably extremely unhealthy, I shoved the discomfort deep into my chest and assured myself that I’d feel better once I was inside. My mother had said it was the only place you could truly come to an understanding with sin, and one day, I’d have to face mine if I wanted to survive, all seven of them. I’d never paid much attention to her back then, but as I absently rubbed the runes through my shirt, I wondered if she’d been more literal than I’d realized.
My free hand’s thumb twirled the small ring on my finger, reminding me my mother was gone, and all I had left of her was this silver band, along with an abandoned mansion I refused to recognize, and far too much pornography she’d promised was just for research.
The church’s shadow was already cooler than the humid air drifting in the street. I gratefully took shelter and breathed out a sigh of anticipation. How would Maxine react to seeing me again after all these years?
The massive oak door rimmed with engravings was already cracked open and I slipped inside, expecting to hear the rhythmic chanting of the nuns or a boys’ choir practicing their song. Instead, I heard Zack yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Sonya’s out there right now fuc—” He cleared his throat, remembering he was talking to a nun. “Sonya’skillingpeople! Are you going to let one teensy tiny itty bitty technicality get in the way?”
Sister Maxine’s unmistakable no-nonsense voice boomed through the foyer. “Technicality?” she screeched. “That’s hardly atechnicality.”
Tugging off my shoes, I shifted against the wall and peered around the corner.
Zack crossed his arms and stared down his nose at Sister Maxine with smoky eyes. I swear, I wish he’d stop using eyeliner. Though… it did kind of make him look sexy. Like some sort of exotic rock star.
“Sonya can’t just go around killing people. When she was finding douchebags to feed off of, that was one thing. At least she was subtle. But now she’s after random blokes behind a bar? No. This is the only solution.”
Sister Maxine thumped her rosary beads against his chest. “Does the Lord’s word mean nothing to you?”
I balked. Don’t tell me he came here to…
Zack weighed both hands down on Maxine’s tiny frame. “If it held any weight in my heart, do you think my first girlfriend would still be alive?”
I buried my face in my hands. Fornication. He was talking about fornication, and more importantly, the first fornication I’d ever had. Sure, great conversation with a Nun.
The First of Four
Luke
So many sounds escaped my body that made me feel like some kind of beaten animal. I couldn’t help it. The pain tore out of me and became a creature of its own.
“Shut it, freak! Or I’ll come down there and knock your teeth out!” Detective Anderson yelled down the dank stairway.
Why couldn’t he ever use my name? And it wasn’t just him, it’d been the kids at school, strangers on the street, heck, even my own family members. No one ever called me Luke. Well, except my mother. Though when she called me Luke it came with my middle name “Mitchell” and a twitching left eye.
Sadly, even memories of my mother couldn’t bring me out of my misery. I writhed on the grimy floor and my cheek slid against caked dirt and unpolished cement. The pain tumbled its way through my stomach and ripped out of my throat with a primal release of agony.
