Chapter 4 #2
“It is.” Wendy sighed the words with relish and hugged the book to her chest. “Torian. She’s a badass. Can we look around a little more?”
We needed to get back to the academy, but it was midnight, and we’d driven nearly an hour to get here.
No one back at the mansion would still be awake, and even if they were, it would only be students up late studying.
If we got in trouble, we already were, and another fifteen minutes of browsing wouldn’t make the punishment any better or worse.
“Fine,” I said, relenting. “You’ve got, like, fifteen minutes, not a second longer.”
Wendy squealed, then bolted off to the other sections. As much as I didn’t want to get into trouble, I couldn’t help but smile at how happy she was. I pushed my lensless glasses up my nose and started browsing the shelves.
A few minutes before her time was up, Wendy ran up to me, holding the hardcover book, a paperback, and a pair of reading glasses.
“I didn’t know you needed glasses,” I said.
“Uh…” Wendy glanced down at them, then gave me an awkward smile. “I don’t. I thought, uh, maybe I could pop the lenses out and wear them to be fashionable. You know, like you.”
A pang of happiness twisted in my chest. I’d always been a little self-conscious about the glasses.
They were useless now that I could shift, but there was something safe about wearing them, like I could hide behind them.
Seeing this vibrant and precocious girl want to emulate something I’d considered a weakness gave me a new outlook.
Maybe I wasn’t as invisible as I thought.
“Really?” I said as I led her to the register. “You want to wear those?”
“Yup,” she said. “Here, take this, I’m gonna wear them now.”
She popped the barcode tag off and slipped them on her face.
“Oh, gosh,” she said, taking them off and blinking dramatically. “Some people have really terrible vision.”
Chuckling, I took the glasses from her and popped the lenses out. Wendy slid them into her blue jeans pocket as some sort of souvenir, then put the frame back on. When she looked up and grinned at me, I couldn’t help but smile back.
“You look great. What’s the other book?” I said, pointing to the paperback. “More dragon warriors or something?”
Wendy shrugged. “Nah, this is nonfiction. It looked interesting, and it all happened not far from here.”
Slipping the book from her hands, I flipped it over, and blinked in surprise at the title. The Davernfield Incubus: A Succubus Nightmare.
“I remember this.” I looked at Wendy as we inched forward in the gigantic line to pay. “This happened back when I was in high school.”
“God, you’re old,” Wendy said.
“Thanks,” I muttered. The Davernfield Incubus had been a supernatural serial killer who’d been active roughly seven years prior. They’d targeted female members of the Succubi community. The psycho killed nearly a dozen before he’d been caught.
Pulling the book closer, I inspected the front cover.
A mishmash of newspaper clippings of the case were plastered all across it, making it look like the crime had actually been covered by the human world.
In reality, the humans never knew about this monster.
All the investigations had been carried out in secret.
There were, of course, mystical people of our kind who could pass for human—shifters, witches, werewolves, and others who infiltrated the human world.
They’d been the ones to find the Davernfield Incubus.
Flipping the book over, I read the blurb.
During the shadowy nights of October, a treacherous entity roved the streets of Chicago.
A dark presence bent on mutilation, torture, and death.
For three weeks in the hidden Davernfield neighborhood, an incubus rained down horror, nearly destroying the already small succubus population. The monster almost escaped justice.
In this book, we will take you on the terrifying hunt for one of the most brutal serial killers in magical history.
A man who is more animal than sentient being.
A man by the name of Claude Domitius, an incubus demon of ancient lineage, driven mad by his hatred for women—and succubi in particular—forever known as the Davernfield Incubus.
We will pull back the curtains of the centuries of his life and try to discover what could drive a being like him to such depravity.
We will tell you of the brave searches through night-cloaked alleys, dank sewers, and chaotic nightclubs; of the tireless hunt by a bear shifter beat cop and a witch detective who put everything on the line to catch the killer, and lastly, we’ll explore the story of the man who truly broke the case, a brave and intrepid private investigator, a veritable legend in the magical world after this case.
Declan McClintoc, a human who used his gifts of investigation to find the lair of the Davernfield Incubus.
These three heroes hunted and captured the killer, all while keeping their true natures and the truth of the search hidden from their human counterparts.
We, the authors, caution you. These pages contain graphic details and descriptions of the victims and photos from the crime scene. Enter this book if you dare!
“Sounds a little—”
“Awesome!” Wendy said, as we moved up in the queue.
“I was going to say morbid, and what is this blurb on the back? I’ve never seen something that melodramatic.”
Wendy snatched the book back. “It’s great. Really sets the tone.”
“Did this McClintoc guy write this book? It makes him sound like Double-Oh-Seven.”
She snatched the book from me and cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously? He’s only like the best private investigator in the magical world. Don’t you keep up with the stories?”
“Apparently not,” I said. “Never heard of the guy.”
“You’ve got to get out more. He’s not famous famous, but he’s an underground legend. I heard Uncle Balthazar saying he disappeared from the public eye a few years ago, though.”
“Interesting,” I muttered, then pointed at the book again. “Are you sure you’re old enough to read that?”
“It’s fine. I used to watch The First 48 with my dad all the time, this is basically the same thing,” Wendy said, waving me off. “I’ve read advanced stuff before. I’ve read every single one of the original Sherlock Holmes books.”
“All of those?” I said, a little surprised she’d read something with such old vernacular and written so long ago.
She shrugged. “No big deal. I read a lot. It’s what I do when I’m lonely.”
Her words pierced my heart
“Okay, but how are you paying for all this?” I said, eyeing the books and glasses, doing math in my head. “This wasn’t some trick to get me to give you a ride and buy you stuff, right?”
She grinned and shook her head before tugging a credit card out of her front pocket.
“Nope. Uncle Balthazar gave me this,” she said. “It’s for emergencies, but getting these”—she held the books up—“is an emergency.”
I snorted and put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s your funeral,” I said. “Don’t blame me if he chews your ass again when he sees the credit card statement.”
Wendy shrugged. “That’s a problem for Future Wendy. Tonight, all I’m excited about is getting back home and reading the first chapter before I pass out.”
Thirty minutes later, we were back in the car, heading toward the academy.
“Aren’t you gonna read some of that book on the way home? It’s a long drive,” I said as we pulled onto the highway.
“I would,” she said, her voice dripping with bitterness, “But I can’t read in the car. I’ll get motion sick unless I look straight ahead. It’s freaking lame.”
She crossed her arms and glared out the windshield. “You have no idea how bad I want to read this book, but if Uncle Blathazar’s car is full of puke, he’d know something was up.”
“Uh…you think?” I said, wrinkling my nose.
I glanced ahead, spotting a shining light against the dark backdrop of the night sky. Behind us, the blazing brilliance of Chicago retreated, and this looked like an oasis in the black night.
Looking over at Wendy, I pointed toward the lights. “How about a snack for the ride home?”
Ahead, the gas station and the halogen bulbs above the pumps drew nearer. Wendy’s scowl faded and became a huge toothy smile.
“For real?”
“Unless you don’t want to,” I said, acting like I was going to change lanes and pass the gas station.
“No! Please, I want to.”
Laughing, I pulled into the gas station. We needed to top off the tank anyway to make sure Balthazar didn’t realize the car had been taken, so this little side quest was necessary regardless. Why not get a little treat while doing that?
Ten minutes later, we were back on the road, Wendy with a king-sized package of peanut butter cups, a bag of nacho cheese flavored tortilla chips, and a cherry slushie.
As for me, I chose to be a bit more health-conscious, and nibbled on a dark chocolate candy bar and a bag of spicy beef jerky.
Instead of a slushie, I’d gotten a diet soda.
The junk food was a welcome treat. The food at the academy was wholesome and good, but there was something about eating crap every now and then that was both nostalgic and fun.
“This is the best night of my life,” Wendy said, then stuffed a whole peanut butter cup into her mouth.
I’d never felt more like a big sister in my life, and all I could do was reach over and squeeze her shoulder.
“I had fun too,” I said. “I may get kicked out of school, but it was fun.”
“Not a chance,” Wendy said. “I’ll never let Uncle Balthazar kick you out. Your safety is guaranteed.”