4. Who Is My Neighbor?
Kais
B e patient in tribulation. Patient in tribulation.
It was becoming my mantra in life.
"But why is she here ?" Leanne Bateman asked. At her side, her husband Scott remained seated in the pew, his eyes on the succubus confined to the chair to my right. I wasn't sure if the fix of his stare on the creature was the same suspicion as his wife's or something else.
"She wants safety from the Hellions, same as us," I said, not sure I really believed the words.
"Couldn't she get that somewhere else? Why does it have to be us?
" asked Oscar McCann, our engineer. He was a widower and he had a daughter about Zach’s age named Heather, who'd recently moved in with another widower the same age as Oscar.
The father wasn't taking it well. Actually, Oscar hadn't been taking anything well for about a year and a half.
I looked at the woman—the succubus —to my right but she remained silent, eyes cast down to the tear in her dress that revealed one pale, elegant—fuck.
A leg. It revealed a leg. She hadn't spoken through the entire inquisition the town led.
I'd been grateful at first, but I wasn't sure it was doing us, or her, any favors at this point. She just sat there, looking other , looking like the Hellion she claimed she wasn’t.
"We don't know that there is somewhere else," Stavros said.
I was surprised he was standing with Zach and I.
He didn't wear the collar, he didn't give sermons, he didn't offer council, and Stav rejected every staple of our position but fighting back Hell.
It was good though, we needed a united front.
Or you could just do as they ask and throw her back out the gate. What's really the loss?
"She might be here under false pretenses," Zach said, and I stiffened, resisting the urge to crane my neck and gape at him. "She may be sent from Hell to test our wills, our faith. She may be the snake in Eden—"
For the first time, the succubus made a noise, a little snort under her breath no one but the four of us on stage could hear. Her head twitched a little, a soft shake of the head, but she didn't interrupt Zach.
"Or she is as she says she is, a child of God seeking refuge. If that's the case, who do you think is testing our faith? Testing our hearts? If this creature is in need, seeking mercy, sanctuary, what mark is it on our souls to refuse her?"
Stavros and I both sighed as Leanne and a few others sat down, that soft spell of calm taking over the town as Zach began to speak.
"Take her off the stage," Stavros whispered. "If they can't see her, they won't be constantly reminded of…"
Of the horns, the preternatural beauty, the eerie eyes, and the strange, vivid blue of her blood.
Demons didn't come in beautiful bottles from what I'd seen, and I’d seen more than most while I was still a chaplain in the army, fighting the first rising.
Still, she was clearly not human, and that was enough to scare our town.
I set my hand on her shoulder, resisting the urge to flinch.
The dreams I'd had, the ones full of her, and been so vivid it was like I was living them.
I knew the exact porcelain smooth texture of her skin.
What was worse was that in real life, touching this creature was amplified, beyond reality, as if a magnifying lense had been placed over my nerve endings, sending rapid and overly detailed messages to my brain.
The basest part of me wondered what that would make the sex feel like.
"You know the parable of the Good Samaritan.
You heard it a hundred times growing up," Zach continued as I guided the succubus to the back of the dais, slipping through the open door.
"'So he asked Jesus “And who is my neighbor?’’’ Travelers from different towns, that's all of us.
We've all met one another midway on this journey, all felt the spite of robbery against our lives since the Rising… "
"Take me to the balcony," she whispered, resisting the pull of my arm.
"Why?"
"Because I want to listen," she said, lips curling in that infernal smile she kept sporting.
Why ? I wanted to ask again. This…succubus made me feel like a parrot. Why was she here? Why had she chosen us, our dreams? Why leave hell now in its victory?
"You have to be silent," I said, glaring at her.
She nodded. "I know. I won't let them see me. Just let me hide up there."
The hall was quiet, and our footsteps echoed on the linoleum.
This area was a later addition to the classic structure of the church, more modern and full of little community rooms and offices.
I'd been planning on stashing her down in the cellar where I could lock the door from the outside and then…
Leave her there? Is that really a better example than throwing her back to Hell?
"Fine," I said, turning heel and heading for the narrow stairs that would take us up to the balcony.
Her feet slapped against the cracked linoleum and I glanced down, my jaw gritting. She was barefoot, leaving little blue footprints on the floor, her feet torn and covered in black ash.
"Are you bleeding?"
"I'll clean it up," she said quickly.
We’d nearly passed the supply closet and the succubus went slipping and stumbling as I stopped suddenly, yanking the door open. The first aid kit hung in a basket inside and I grabbed it with my free hand, ignoring her stare on my face.
"Is this going to work on you?"
"It's going to help. Thank you, Kais."
She flinched as I whipped my stare back at her, just a tiny fraction of a movement.
It might've been faked, but she recovered quickly, expression smoothing.
She reacted to sudden movements, had fear impulses, like when she thought I'd pulled a real gun on her, and there were…
marks around her throat and on the high arch of her cheek.
Trap .
I tugged her along to the stairs, shutting down the argument in my head and trying not to take my frustration out on her arm in my grip.
Her steps were silent up to the balcony, and she slid soundlessly down to the floor, pulling free of my grip and scooting over to the wall of the balcony as I watched.
Her hands were still tied behind her back, and her feet looked worse now that I could see the soles, like she'd walked over hot coals.
Caused by the Hellfire that had rained down, probably.
I knelt at her feet, opening the first aid kit as quietly as I could.
I'd have to tell the others how quiet she could be, make sure one of us knew where she was at all times.
I didn't like the idea of locking her up like an animal, but for the sake of the people we promised safety to, we couldn't just let her loose.
Maybe for her own sake too, based on the looks some of the community was giving her.
I tore open a sterile wipe, glancing up and pausing.
She had her cheek pressed to the stone wall, head tipped back and lips parted, eyes shut as she took in great breaths. Her foot twitched, yanked in my hand as I grabbed her ankle, and then settled quickly. She didn't seem to mind the wipe, just pressed her hand to the stone and shivered.
"Do you have a name?" I whispered.
"Deyva."
Day-vah. Deyva…it sounded like a sigh, sweet and romantic. A name better suited to an angel than the creature in front of me.
She twisted, ankle turning in my loose grip, ignoring the shift of her skirt that left one leg entirely bared. But she wasn't paying any attention to me, her eyes were on the roof, cheeks coloring pink and chest heaving.
"What—" I knew that look on her. I'd created that look on her in my dreams. "What are you doing? Are you... feeding off of our people?"
Every instinct told me to spur into action, to get Stavros, anyone. We didn’t know what she was capable of, or how dangerous she really was. Did she drain people like a vampire? The Lord knew how sluggish—no, how utterly slothful I’d been in the mornings after visits from her.
What I hadn’t admitted to anyone yet, was how rested and peaceful I felt during those mornings.
It didn’t last the whole day, but my sleep had been an endless minefield of flashbacks and cold sweats before her.
This strange, beautiful woman gave me a glimpse of what I’d been fruitlessly chasing for years—peace.
Despite all that, I had to focus. To stop her. It could’ve all been to lull us into a false sense of security, no matter how much I craved feeling that peacefulness again.
“Stop what you’re doing,” I insisted, tightening my grip around her ankle. Who the fuck knew if I could actually prevent her from doing anything, but she’d complied with us so far. “Stop it now!”
She blinked and there was a drowsy, dreamy expression on her face as it turned to me. "They won't feel it," she breathed. "I know I…I was too greedy in the dreams. I didn't mean to be. But I promise, I won't harm them. This is just the sweetest thing I've tasted in centuries."
I frowned, staring down at the mangled foot in my hands, the blue carving scratches on the soles of her feet and the scars around her ankles.
"What is?"
"Their faith," she sighed. "I think it feels like sunlight. It's so strong."
"In God?"
She shook with silent laughter, head lolling limply on her shoulders. "In him . Zach. All of you. They have absolute faith in the three of you. It's breathtaking, Kais."
“Your reverence is touching.” My other hand continued to wipe at the ash and cuts on her foot. “But how do I know you’re not harming them?”
The succubus— Deyva, her name is Deyva —tilted her head, her strange eyes brighter now and that little smile all too playful. “Have I ever hurt you, Kais? Or any of you for that matter?”
“That depends on your definition of hurt.” I discarded the used antiseptic wipe and ripped open another, my grip shifting to her other foot. “Too much of a good thing can be bad for anyone.”
Her eyes rolled back, a groan emitting from her throat. Fucking hell, she needs to stop making noises like that.