Chapter Fourteen This Way Comes
This is the bumpiest car ride. Dad must be driving. Mom isn’t a great driver, either, but Dad thinks everything is a plane.
“Dad, slow down. Speed bumps!” I protest, trying to stop my head from banging against the headrest.
It turns out not to be a car ride. It’s Gordon, who might be faster than a car when he’s in a hurry.
My eyes fly open. Gordon is putting me in his truck, which is stupid, because I don’t even think my feet will reach the pedals. I’ll have to stand up to drive.
“Wait! Why am I driving? Smoke? Fire? What’s happening?”
“I think there was a lightning strike in the woods. Minor. Maybe. I have my phone, and remember, I can’t get hurt. You can, so you stay here and be ready to drive, just in case,” Gordon says sternly, and then he bolts.
“No! Wait, you can get hurt. Gordon! Gordon Middle Name Rockland!” I scream.
But my lover is gone, running towards something I can’t see.
When I get closer, I know it’s not a lightning strike. The air doesn’t smell like ozone, and there’s no rain. It’s a balmy night, a little humid, but nothing that would earn heat lightning.
The air smells like sulfur and blood.
I freeze, senses stretching, suddenly acutely aware that I left my Andrea alone. And there are things in Pine Ridge that are unfriendly. To be sure, they don’t last long, but something is here now.
I find the singed spot about a mile and a half from my backyard, a distance that I covered in only about ten minutes.
I was sound asleep with Andrea on my chest, basking under the stars and the warmth of the night and the contained, fading embers of our “campfire.” Something woke me. A loud noise and smoke on the wind.
Instincts.
Noises.
The clearing isn’t much of a clearing at all, but I see the blood on a boulder and splattered on a tree stump. I see the claw marks on the earth. Four sets this time. The patterns are different.
Two full hand prints, with five taloned fingertips gouging the earth. Three taloned toes digging backward, like a runner prepping to sprint.
A succubus sprang.
Or was on her hands and knees, her victim beneath her.
Or... Or perhaps her partner was behind her, and she was on her hands and knees in a carnal fashion.
“It’s a succubus, Gordon. It’s always going to be a carnal fashion,” I mutter to myself.
But there wouldn’t be blood, would there? If it was carnal?
Well, a partner with claws carries a certain amount of risk, and there’s no body. The trees aren’t burning. There are some smoldering twigs, but the earth is damp in the dark, and the risk of fire is low. I kick and stomp out the embers I can find, then pull out my phone.
Gordon: It’s okay. Another succubus strike.
I look up, remembering that succubi can fly, at least I think they can. The ones in Mr. Minegold’s book had leathery, bat-like wings sprouting from their backs.
Andrea: Thank God! Come back to the cabin.
Gordon: Just a second. You should wait in the truck. Doors locked.
Andrea: Why? Gordon, you’re scaring me.
Gordon: Don’t be scared. Just safe.
But that’s just it. If this were a succubus living in the mortal realm, would there be that brimstone and sulfur smell I keep noticing? Why the flames, sparks, and charred earth? Is this a succubi thing?
Or is this a portal to Hell kind of thing?
I’ll be damned if I let portals to Hell open up a mile and a half from where my kids are gonna have their swingset! To say nothing of my wife.
And the cat. Cats.
I scan the trees with the flashlight on my phone. Nothing. No winged demoness. No broken branches.
I’m guessing portal. And I don’t know if the blood is her victim’s or hers.
Time for another text.
Gordon to PVPRFD: I need someone who can scry some blood and get some DNA out of claw marks in the earth. Looks like we have another succubus event. Any takers?
The text goes to the paranormal volunteers of the Pine Ridge Fire Department. It’s almost three in the morning, but the text message chain begins to fill with the dots of people typing.
Duncan to PVPRFD: I do not know how to use the kit, being new to this technology, but I will get Ardy.
Genesis to PVPRFD: You need Alban.
Milo to PVPRFD: Alban needs to do this one.
Ian F. to PVPRFD: Alban, are you awake?
Ian K. to PVPRFD: You sure it wasn’t a dragon?
Graham K to PVPRFD: Ian, go back to bed. Not you, Mr. Fenclan.
Alban to PVPRFD: My phone is going nuts. Harper will kill all of you. Gordon, send me a location, and I’ll get Ardy and come over.
Gordon to PVPRFD: Thank you. Don’t tell the captain. Not yet.
Andrea flings herself into my arms the second I’m back on my own property, flying out of the truck like a missile. “Thank God! What happened?”
“Succubus.”
“I know, but why do sex demons make fire? I thought they made wet dreams?” Andrea frowns.
“This one has some sort of fiery side effect. And there was blood this time.”
“Oh. Oh, that’s not good. But no... No body, right?”
“No body. Not a huge amount of blood. Enough to notice shining on the rocks and trees around the clearing, though.”
Andrea looks faint. “I’m so sorry. What do we do?”
“I asked Ardy and Alban to come out. Brother-in-laws. Alban is a warlock. You met him.”
“Oh, yes. He can shoot water out of his hands.”
I shake my head. That’s not how that works, but it’s too early to explain.
“And Ardghal Walsh, the police officer. I want to see if we can find out who the blood belongs to. It’s likely the victim’s, who's probably a hapless human taken in by what appears to be a beautiful woman. Probably a lonely, single male. From what I know from Liam, the local reformed incubus, demons who feed off of humans in the mortal realm have to play their cards carefully, or they’ll end up in a bad situation. ”
“The poor humans, though. Aren’t they also in a bad situation?”
“Yes.” I go back to speaking in short sentences.
It’s easier than explaining all the murky thoughts and feelings that a monster has when another monster enters the mortal realm.
Are they there to kill? Then they’re a threat.
Are we judging too quickly? Should they be shown mercy and offered a chance to lead a good life, protecting others with powers that could be used for good instead of evil?
I was given a chance to lead a peaceful life. I don’t need sexual energy to survive, just food. Not even the food my parents told me I had to survive on. Does a succubus from the Hell realm know that she doesn’t need souls, only sexual energy, or the life force created from it?
Andrea leans on my arm, holding my hand in both of hers. “We should go make coffee.”
“Hm?”
“For Ardy and Albie.”
“Alban.”
Andrea rolls her eyes. “Whatever, for the tired guys who are going to come over here to look at blood and stuff.”
“I have to wait here.”
“I’ll figure out the coffee myself, don’t worry.”
“It’s instant. In the cabinet with the cereal.
It’s easy to find.” There’s not a lot in my cabinets.
Basics. I don’t do fancy meals. But maybe that will change.
I picture Andrea, and maybe even her mother and all of the fierce titas I’ve heard about, descending upon my kitchen and teaching me to make the wonderful food Andrea always talks about.
Andrea gives me a dirty look. “You know how men worry about women trying to change them?”
“No?” I wouldn’t be adverse to Andrea trying to change me. She would deserve to do so.
“I love you, but you’re going to have to have real coffee in the house if I’m in it, too.”
“I just drink whatever is at the station,” I explain.
“Yeah, well, since I don’t go to the station, you’re getting a coffee pot when I move in!” she shouts over her shoulder and saunters in, her petite yet curvaceous rear reminding me that there’s hope in the world.
Ardy takes a swab from the rock and dips it in a tiny vial of clear solution, shakes it around, and puts drops on a little plastic cassette that looks similar to the pregnancy tests they sell at the pharmacy.
“Ooh. This is human or primate, or in the case of Pine Ridge, it could be something like Orc, yeti, vampire, reaper, or troll. Not a shifter in animal form nor a minotaur, as their blood skews the results to non-human. They typically have a mix of proteins that won’t bind to the testing material. Okay, Alban. Alban!”
Alban shakes himself awake, blinking from the spot where he was squatting over burnt earth. “Huh?”
“Drink the coffee,” I urge, and shove the mug Andrea prepared back into his hand as I pull him to his feet.
“Alban, what’d you get?”
“Sulfur. Brimstone.” Alban slurps his coffee and shakes himself, blinking to clear his bleary eyes.
“Can you scry where the creature who made those marks went?”
“Yep. Not here.”
I suddenly realize how frustrating others must find me when I give such short answers. “I can see that.”
“I mean, it’s not in this realm.” Alban hands me back the coffee cup, then reaches into the pocket of his slouchy sweats with one hand and scratches his chest through his “You can’t scare me, I have twins” shirt with the other.
“Scrying crystal winks on and off. Picks up the signal of the being, but then shuts down. Being isn’t here.
Either dead or not in the realm. Hell realm, I’d guess.
” He gestures to the ground. “Portaled, or somehow breached the energy that keeps Pine Ridge so tempting to non-humans. What we need to do is get the Pine Ridge coven over here to help me out,” Alban stretches, yawns, and tosses the crystal into one of the charred claw marks.
“To do what?”
“We already try to close off Pine Ridge to all evil forces. We ward, we patrol, we have the Night Watch... We have the best cops around.” Alban gives a fist bump to his police officer brother-in-law.
“Somehow, this one got in. We can try to block it by creating a protective ward against succubi specifically—but I need more firepower if I’m going to weave the spell just right so that we don’t accidentally send a peaceful incubus like Liam Icarus hurtling into Hell. ”