Chapter 12 #2
They all turned to leave, and Quin heard the scrape of her mother’s chair.
“If you walk out that door, Quin, you will never be welcome back. You hear me? Your inheritance, the home you and that vlier have been squatting in, even that car parked outside. You’ll lose everything, and I won’t forgive you when you come back, begging and pleading for my mercy. ”
Quin paused and turned one last time, studying her mother’s fiery eyes and flushed face, her tail stiff and vibrating. Steam poured from her nose, and she looked moments away from stamping her hooves in fury. And it was all so… ridiculous.
Unable to help herself, she laughed. “Oh, Mother, do go and thoroughly fuck yourself.”
With an impotent cry of rage, her mother disappeared in a puff of smoke and flame, rematerializing right in front of her.
Quin should have known; she should have been ready.
But just like the first time, the hit caught her off guard.
It was harder than the first one. Claryn put her full strength behind it, and Quin tasted blood as the strike sent her stumbling back into Waryn’s body.
He caught her, keeping them both from falling, and he hissed, baring his fangs at her mother.
But it was Glyma’s reaction that shocked Quin more than Waryn’s growl, her father’s inaction, and even her mother’s slap.
Glyma snarled, fierce and guttural, a sound Quin didn’t think Incubi were capable of making.
Her tail snapped around Claryn’s wrist, still raised as if she wanted to hit Quin again.
That haze of energy Quin had noticed on occasion when Glyma was upset or emotionally overwhelmed vibrated around her body, warping the background. Like heat shimmering off hot asphalt, the air distorted, and Glyma’s pupils shifted to glowing diamonds.
Then the lights dimmed, unnatural shadows encroaching on all sides.
Her father squeaked, tripping over his chair in his haste to escape.
The Anura playing witness cowered into the wall, huge eyes locked on Glyma in fright and awe.
Waryn trembled behind her, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “What the fuck?”
As the dark thickened around them, Glyma started to change. Her gorgeous features sharpened to something fierce and angular. Her horns grew, jagged points jutting out in threatening directions, and when she bared her fangs, her mouth was full of rows of serrated, needle-like teeth.
Even her skin seemed to shift, like worms roiling under her flesh, strange textures bloomed along her limbs, covering her in nonsensical patterns. Claws sprouted from her nail beds, and spikes exploded down her spine, flexing with every heaving breath.
Worse than the physical transformation was the dread, the illogical terror, that the inky darkness brought. Quin gasped, and she tasted rotting meat and rancid blood. She smelled sulfur and brimstone, like spoiled eggs, and her ears filled with the disembodied cries of the damned.
Damnation. The fiery pit. They were in it, and Quin wanted to scream.
She couldn’t find her voice, though. She was frozen in abject horror as she watched her mother—gripped with the same overwhelming fear—back into the end of the table, upsetting a chair and losing her balance.
She fell to the floor, heels slipping and sliding on the marble in a vain attempt at escaping the ghoul before her.
Claryn shrieked, but Quin couldn’t hear her. Because Glyma had opened her mouth, and when she spoke, it wasn’t her voice at all. It was distorted and twisted, turning her windchimes and harmony into a discordant gnashing of teeth.
“You will not touch her,” the creature that had been Glyma seethed. “And if we ever see your face again, I will rip out your soul and eat it.”
And gods help her, Quin believed every word.
“Glym?” Quin said, voice trembling, and that horrible creature faced her, diamond pupils glowing like supernovas. “Glyma?”
The monster blinked, and Quin saw a flicker of Glyma, of hot pink eyes and care and love. She was in there, even now, even looking like something out of a nightmare. Glyma was still there.
Climbing to her feet on jelly legs, Quin slowly approached the Succubus—who clearly wasn’t fully a Succubus at all. She’d never known who her father was. The question she should have been asking was what her father was.
But that didn’t matter right now. Because Glyma was still in there, and for better or worse, she was Quin’s.
“Glym, it’s okay,” Quin said as she came to a stop before the terrifying creature. “See? I’m fine. Everything’s going to be right as rain. Just come back to me. Come back, Glym.”
Another blink, and the glow in those diamond pupils started to dim. The shadows receded, and the sounds of Hel and gnashing of teeth faded. Instead of the stench of death, Quin smelled nutmeg and cardamom.
As the atmosphere slowly shifted back to normal, so did Glyma. The spikes and claws retreated back into her body, and her horns shrank. Those grotesque teeth sank back into her gums and jaw. The wriggling worms under her skin melted away, and her features softened back into smooth, round lines.
Then she was Glyma again, and even the jagged diamond pupils were gone. She wobbled, like the shift had sapped her energy, and Quin lunged forward to catch her. Thankfully, she managed to stay on her feet, only leaning on Quin a little.
“Whoa. That sucked,” Glyma said, voice melodic again. “Sorry, I lost my temper.”
“That’s one word for it,” Quin said, and Glyma winced.
“I was just so angry because she—” Straightening, Glyma reached for Quin’s cheek, and it took all Quin’s strength not to flinch away. When Glyma touched her, it was with the gentleness she’d always shown her. “She hit you. Are you alright?”
Quin nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Glyma inspected her cheek, scowling at the blood smeared at the corner of her mouth, but once she deemed Quin fit enough, she released her chin. “Can we go home now? I have a headache.”
“Of course. Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry,” Glyma whispered, staring down at her hands like she didn’t recognize them. “I didn’t mean to—I was just so mad, and—I’m sorry.”
“It’s going to be alright. I promise.”
“I’d never hurt you,” Glyma insisted, and Quin framed her face in her hands and kissed the tip of her purple nose.
“I know, my love. I know.” She added pressure to Glyma’s shoulder to move her toward the door. “Let’s go now. Everything will be alright.”
She glanced down at her mother, still cowering and whimpering under the table. Well, it didn’t look like they’d be expecting any trouble from her anymore. Small mercies.
“Get up, Waryn,” Quin said as she wrapped an arm around Glyma’s waist and led her toward the front door. Waryn was still on the ground, eyes wide with trepidation. Quin glared down at him. “Waryn, get up!”
Jolting from his stupor, he awkwardly scrambled to his feet. “Yes, right. I—well, I do apologize. I think I may have soiled myself.”
“I think we all may have soiled ourselves,” Quin said, and Waryn nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Glyma repeated.
“Has that ever happened before?” Waryn asked, and Glyma shook her head.
Then she hesitated and slowly nodded. “When I was a kid. I thought it had been a dream.”
“Indeed,” Waryn said, keeping some distance as he followed the women out of the dining room.
At the front door, Waryn opened it and ushered Glyma through. Footsteps trailed behind them, and Quin checked over her shoulder, startling at the presence of the Anura.
“Can I help you?” Quin asked.
“I’m coming with you,” she said in her nasally voice, like it was obvious.
“You are?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she pointed first at Glyma, then back the way they’d come.
“She’s way scarier than your mom. I’m sticking with you guys.
” She waddled across the hall to the high entry table and snatched the silver candelabra from it.
Then she tottered past Quin and out the door.
At Quin’s brow raise, she shrugged. “What? I’m not leaving here with nothing. ”
At the car, Waryn was opening the back door for Glyma, who looked like she was moments away from going into shock. She tracked the Anura’s approach, offering a wobbly smile.
“Oh, hey, I’m Glyma.”
“You already said that,” the Anura said, giving Glyma a clinical onceover. “I’m Tad.”
“Hi, Tad,” Glyma said. “Do you need a ride?”
With only a second of thought, Tad nodded. “Pop the trunk.”
Waryn did, and Tad gleefully crawled into it, candelabra in hand.
“Who’s she?” he asked, and Quin shook her.
“Haven’t the slightest idea.”
On the drive home, Glyma curled against Quin and shook. She rubbed warmth into Glyma’s arms and kissed her head, speaking soft reassurances into her hair.
“What am I?” Glyma whimpered, and Quin tightened her hold.
“You’re Glyma, and you’re mine.”
“My dad wasn’t an Incubus, was he?” she asked, sounding small and frightened.
Quin shook her head. “I don’t think so, love.”
“Are you afraid of me?” she asked next, and Quin’s heart hurt at the question.
“No. You scared me, yes. But I’m not afraid of you. I may not know what you are, but I know who you are, and that is all that matters.”
Lifting her head, Glyma blinked back tears. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Quin said, tracing the swell of her cheek with her thumb. “Maybe just invest in an anger management course or two.”
Glyma laughed wetly. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Quin said, and when Glyma kissed her, she knew she was exactly where she was always meant to be.