Page 43 of Succubus Sins
After pouring myself a steaming bit of tea, I swirled the mixture with a miniature metal stirrer and took a sip. I sighed. Absolutely heavenly.
My grandmother frowned. “Those monsters in Seattle obviously haven’t been taking good care of you. When’s the last time you had a decent cup of tea?”
I shrugged. “My whims have centered more around Oreos and beer, to be honest.”
She drew the back of her hand to her forehead in a mock swoon. “My poor dear. What have they done to you?”
Cradling the warm cup in my hands, my mood turned somber. “If Luke is so important, what happens when I find him? Won’t he just run from me like last time?”
“Is that his name?” She smiled as if I’d told her a dirty secret. “I’d always wondered.”
“Seriously, Grandmother. He’s not affected by my powers. What should I do?”
Her gaze fell to my locket again. “It seems the source of his fear is dwindling.”
With my hand warmed from my cup of tea, I drew it up to the locket and was shocked that the metal felt cool and smooth against my touch. I arched my neck down and popped the locket open. It was nothing but a weak glimmer and the edge had turned white like an infection.
I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat.
One last rush of power, and my Blood Stone would be completely emptied.
I’d grown accustomed to the ease of which the Stone let me forget the price that came with being a Succubus. I could use my powers to excess, go months without feeding, and generally just live my life. But without it, I’d have to go back to how things used to be.
That thought rolled dread through the pit of my stomach which was already cold and heavy as I wandered New York’s streets. The sun beat down, all too cheerful and the crowds of teeming people all too energetic for my melancholy mood.
The blood continued to drain from my face, making me feel faint as I thought about having to go back to my old life. How could I live like that again? Killing innocent men who’d pledged to die for me? No matter how I tried to justify it, pretend they were willing sacrifices, my powers took out all choice. They were nothing more than thralls, and I was no better than the Incubus King or Zack who threw away women like empty Cheetos bags.
The lust-filled glances ushered my way from more than a few men purposefully bumping into me down the street made me wonder if I should take my grandmother’s advice to heart. Her words tore through me, “Live as you’re meant to live. In the midst of life, and the only one who can drink the nectar.” She didn’t understand why I’d retained my brief whiff of human morals. She assured me it was youth holding me back, something I’d outgrow. She’d always touted morality to me, but that meant feeding on those who were willing victims. Old enough to know what that meant, it didn’t seem so moral anymore.
As I wandered the streets, I realized I was approaching a familiar sight. In my mindless meandering, I’d come upon a church like the one in Seattle where I’d spent so much of my childhood.
There was one paramount reason I had any sense of morality, I realized with a wry smile. That darned nun, Maxine.
Still, I couldn’t tear myself away from the magnetizing pull of the deep reds and blues of the stained-glass windows. Maxine had been a mother to me even more than my own had been. All I wanted was to feel safe and secure like I had with her.
Without thinking, I wound my way up the stairs and swept into the shadows of the church.
A sharp snarl sent my teeth clacking the moment I stepped inside, followed by a pained shriek just behind my ear.
I twirled and my skin went hot as I drew on the Blood Stone out of reflex. The girl who Nate had said was my daughter was just beyond the doorway and clutching at her hand which was already scabbing over with oozing blisters.
“Damn it, mother,” she hissed. Her voice hardly seemed to match her teenager’s body. The rumble of it was deep and angry, as if from a much older woman who had been screaming for hours on end. “Of all places, you decide to wander into a church?”
I stared at her, waiting for her to make a move. She retreated a few steps and the bubbles across her arm sizzled as a fresh layer of pink webbed over it. The wound completely disappeared and the pained lines in her face eased.
“Who are you?” I breathed. My senses were on full alert. My instincts screamed that this was a wild, cruel creature I had no business being around. No way should I let my guard down or dupe myself into believing I was safe. I gripped my locket and readied myself to drain the last of its power if necessary.
The silver shimmer of her eyes reminded me of Silvia, but there was a red tinge that burned around her irises that weren’t from Silva, Derek, or myself. I realized there was only one place she could have inherited such a flame, the Blood Stone itself.
“Mother,” she said again, as if I were being ridiculous. “You don’t recognize me?”
She straightened as if she’d been sitting too long and rolled her eyes in a way that reminded me of a bored teenager. Yet, those red-ringed irises belied any sort of innocence.
When I didn’t respond, she jerked her chin at the Blood Stone in my hand. “You clutch at that as if it’s not a parent to me too. Do you really think it’d ever hurt me?”
My blood turned cold as she smiled. It wasn’t the sweet smile of a young girl I’d expected with a face like hers. The pointy, slightly upturned nose and dimpled cheeks made her seem like a doll. But there was an ancient, evil element that seeped through her pores like a nightmare. I swallowed hard and took a step backward into the church.
She rolled her eyes again. “You can’t stay in there forever.”
