Caleb
“ C armilla de Mornay?” I asked, frowning. “Why wasn’t she listed in the general register?—”
“Why do you think?” said Harry, clasping his arms behind himself, rocking on his heels, somewhat like a young boy. The look in his eye spoke of something far less… innocent. “She’s been kept out for a reason. The archdiocese wanted her brought back alive, so of course we’re not going to trust this kind of project to morons like you, and this was precisely why! Tell him, Jax.”
“We’ve been studying her movements, which at first, seemed chaotic,” said the bishop with a sigh. “For many decades, she wasn’t doing much of anything, and then suddenly, close to thirty years ago, she started popping up in cities with some of the Church’s satellite offices. Wherever she goes, there’s a sudden crop of new succubi, and in some cases… even incubi.”
“New succubi,” I repeated, as if I didn’t know it myself. “She can… make demons?”
Jax moved to answer, but Harry cleared his throat. The old man glared over his shoulder before turning back to me. “Not… in any traditional manner. At no point in history has a succubus ‘created’ another succubus, so we’ve been trying to discover how she’s doing it precisely, but she appears exceptionally perceptive and has thus far dodged us every time.”
“Do you know how new succubi are made, ?” asked Harry, leaning down to be at eye level to me. When I didn’t answer, he gave a strangely odd smile. “Incubi. The very spawn of the Devil himself! They lay with a woman, and at the big finale… they leave behind the seed that will turn her into a lusty fiend. We don’t quite know the parameters for who it works on, or how, but some women turn, some don’t.”
Magda … I thought. How did the doctor manage such a thing? There had been no incubi around—no one but the two of them.
“New incubi,” Harry continued, lowering his voice, “are made in much the same way: They sleep with others and turn both men and women into demons… with some exceptions, naturally.”
There was an edge to his tone that grated on me. Like he knew something I didn’t. Some kind of inside joke only he was privy to. “So, she’s what? Convincing incubi to sleep with women and tossing the dice to see who turns and who doesn’t?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” said Harry, giving me a harder-than-necessary clap on the shoulder. “I don’t mean that ironically, either. This operation has been expensive; goes back decades before you or I were even alive. You’re not the first to fuck everything up unfortunately, but you are probably the first one whose gonna wind up getting killed for it.”
“Harry!” snapped Jax, slamming a hand onto the wooden table. “Stop that, now!”
Instead of looking properly chastened, Harry settled for standing just out of Jax’s view and miming a noose while sticking out his tongue. I had to actively fight to keep from going across the table at him. I’d already broken his nose tonight; I might go for a few ribs, next.
“Unfortunately, this operation was the closest we’ve gotten to her in many years. Succubi, my boy, can tempt a man with just a single look. If she was able to catch your eye through the camera…” He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly. “Then she’d probably already been in contact with you. Probably already tempted you.”
It hadn’t been the doctor that tempted me, but I wasn’t about to tell them that. “I didn’t have anyone else in that apartment—ever. I got food, took some runs, then just sat on my ass for eight, ten hours a day monitoring her office. I didn’t even talk to anyone except to check in with Home—at what point would I have the opportunity to get seduced by a succubus? When would she even have seen me?”
“You tell us,” said Harry, still smiling as he strode over to stand behind Jax. “What happened when we lost contact with you?”
I thought back, once more, to the scene, staring at the table as I fought to recall the exact order of events. “Home called, frantic, saying the doctor disappeared from the house and asked me to check if she was at work. I confirmed she was at the office, then spotted a woman arriving in the parking lot. I was worried she was in danger, so I told Home I’d been burned, destroyed the phone, and left.”
“That’s the thing, Knight,” said Jax, his voice sad. “We spoke to the agent you call ‘Home.’ He never called you; you called him.”
“That’s a lie,” I spat, head snapping up to meet his gaze. “He woke me up after I’d been?—”
I stopped short. May as well go the full monte. You’re going to get crucified either way. Something isn’t right here.
“After you’d been what?” Jax pressed.
“…I’d been drinking the night before,” I admitted. “I was passed out when Home called me; there were a bunch of missed texts, and I was… sluggish. Confused. I made my way to the window, confirmed that the doctor was there, and then…”
I saw Magda… and the doctor saw me.
“Drinking! Really, !” spat Jax reproachfully. “On assignment? You should have been on your knees in prayer! You know alcohol is prohibited.”
“I had the day off.” I hung my head. I was missing something, and it was making me feel crazy. Why had Home lied? He’d woken me up with the call… hadn’t he?
“Day off?” Harry said, scoffing at me. “You were on assignment, dumbass! Why would you have the day off?”
I paused. Wait… where had I gotten that idea from? Why did I think it would be a good thing to get drunk on Friday when I was on assignment?
My missing time. She did do something to me.
“According to Home, you called him, babbling about the doctor being at the office. He stated,” Harry said, “that you seemed incoherent, and you mentioned something about there being a woman in the parking lot, then said you were burned and going in against orders.”
I shook my head, desperately trying to understand what wasn’t adding up.
“No, he called me… I was sleeping—he—check the call logs!” I demanded.
“We did,” said Jax. “There were no text exchanges. In fact, he’d never even realized the doctor left her house, so he never texted you. The only call was from you.”
I slammed a hand on the wooden table, making everyone in the room—including the strange, black-veiled nun—jump. “I am telling the truth , goddammit!”
Harry held his hands up, placating as he took a step back. “As you know it, yes, you are.”
“The fuck do you mean ‘as I know it’?” I spat, not giving a single care about Jax’s brows furrowing in the coming reproach building behind them. “That’s what happened. I can’t lie in here, and you both know that, so Home is lying. He must be.”
“But you must also realize that means we can’t lie in here, either,” Harry pointed out gleefully. “You texted Home and told him the doctor was en route, and then Home texted you back. That’s the last text he sent you, Knight. We ran his phone through the system, and his version of events checks out. So, in a sense, you are right: You had been burned.”
“I hadn’t though, I—” I froze. I’d gotten dinner a couple blocks from the apartment; the beer had been on the counter next to me, and it spilled… but why? There’d been money in my hand, and the case of beer?—
That bitch. But… how? How had she known…? She must have wanted to use me to help her get Magda out of there… but why?
“How often do you drink on assignment, ?” asked Jax.
“Never,” I said. “Last night was the first time.”
“Do you remember what brand the beer was?” continued the bishop. “How much you had to drink before you passed out?”
I struggled to recall, but the label was a blur in my mind. “No.”
“How much do you normally drink?” Harry asked.
“Maybe a couple times a month.” I looked up at the two of them, suspicion burning my throat like acid. “Look—why are you asking me this? I didn’t lie about the doctor being at her office, did I? I told Home the truth!”
Jax shook his head stoically. “No, you’re right about that. As a matter of fact, Home was quite alarmed to discover he’d been watching an empty house until you called him, at which point the demon’s spell faded, revealing that her car was gone from the driveway.”
“So then he was burned, too,” I said. “She managed to leave without him realizing it.”
Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. He didn’t go AWOL after bum-rushing a succubus—you did. So continue. After you got into the building and went up to the doctor’s office. What happened then?”
I could feel my anxiety screaming. I wasn’t even in the cells yet, and they’d already gotten me so off kilter, I was practically spilling my guts. The only thing I hadn’t told them was what happened once I found the doctor, which was probably what they were getting me worked up for. Making me nervous so I’d mess up. I took a deep breath.
Stay focused. Protect Magda.
“The reception desk was empty. The air was…” I paused. Strange. Heavy. Tinged with something seductive—but it hadn’t been directed at me; I’d kept my head about me—or so I’d thought. “It felt odd. I turned to the doctor’s office—where I’d seen the location from the apartment, but then, I realized there were another set of doors in the reception area, I went through them. There was hardly enough light to see by, and things got hazy as I went farther in, until…”
Here I paused again, staring at the table, working hard not to give myself away. I blinked, sat silent for a long time, and then sighed, heavily. I considered my words. I had to script this to make it seem like I was alone with the doctor.
“I heard noises from one of the rooms, so I drew my weapon and entered. I was able to catch the doctor by surprise, but… There was some kind of explosion from the reception area. She started gasping like she couldn’t breathe, and I turned my head for a split second, which is when she touched my face… I came to later, no idea where I was, and the doctor wasn’t with me. I’ve got no clue what happened to her after I left that building.”
And then I woke up again later, lying next to the beautiful woman I’d just ravished.
If I hadn’t been in such a bad way, the memory would have likely brought back my longing for her, but as it was, it was taking all my attention to edit Magda out of the story while still making it seem like a viable tale.
“I haven’t seen the doctor since the office—I swear.”
Jax nodded to himself. “You know that demons can manipulate a person’s memory, . You’ve seen it before yourself, have you not?”
“Yes.”
“So, while you may be presenting a true account to the best of your ability here, that doesn’t mean what you remember is actually what happened, does it?”
I hesitated, then shook my head. “…No.”
“So, is it possible you slept with Carmilla de Mornay—the woman you knew as Dr. Lowe?”
“I didn’t sleep with her,” I insisted. “I mean, yes, it’s possible that demons can alter memories, but?—”
“But you’re missing time, aren’t you?” insisted Harry, looking at me like he was selecting a fatted calf for the sacrifice. “By your own admission, you can’t remember everything. Even someone as fucking stupid as you knows temporary memory loss is the first side effect of demons fucking about in your head.”
I glared at him, said nothing.
Jax snapped at me, “Answer, now.”
Miserably, I looked down at the table. “Yes. I’m missing time.”
Jax leaned back in his seat and sighed deeply through his nose. It was a sound I’d come to recognize as his “disappointed” sigh. Harry, however, looked like he might start dancing a jig. How had I ever been friends with such an asshole? I didn’t recall him being quite this obnoxious before.
“This might seem a silly request, Knight,” said Harry, gesturing to my chest, “but take off your suit coat.”
“My coat?” I asked, hands going to my chest protectively. “What for?”
“Just indulge me, dickweed.” Harry said with feigned nonchalance. This was not the Harry I’d known in the past. His gaze was sharp. Hawklike. Just what the hell had he been up to all these years?
I unbuttoned the jacket as well as I could given the manacles, and the very moment I opened it, we all got the picture at roughly the same time.
Oh… Goddammit.
My shirt. The one that had been ripped open by Magda’s needy hands when she’d had me on the bed. It was torn and missing buttons. I looked up, pretending not to understand why this might be cause for alarm.
“How’d that come about?” Harry asked.
“Shirts get ripped all the time,” I said, carefully avoiding any potential missteps. “Plus, there was the whole fight we had?—”
Harry came around the table without a word and unhooked me from the manacles, pulled my gun from the holster, and tossed it across the room. “Jacket off—shirt too.”
I looked to Jax; he nodded sorrowfully.
“I don’t?—”
“Now,” snapped Harry. The smile was gone; in its place was tentative excitement. “Make me wait any longer and I’ll make them strip search and cavity search you in the cells.”
I removed my jacket, then the ruined shirt. This, I pulled over my head and tossed casually on top of the jacket on the table.
Harry stared over my body like he was trying to decide where to begin a dissection, then tapped a forefinger to his mouth. “Turn.”
Again, I looked to Jax, but he didn’t move. It became clear to me, then, that Jax wasn’t the one running this particular show—hence the forced display of courtesy with his ring. Had he been doing that all for Harry’s sake?
I did as I was told. Stood and spun to face the two-way glass. In it, I could see it clearly reflected as Harry grinned, a snakelike, twisted affair that looked more like a grimace than a smile. Jax crossed himself and swore.
“Knight,” said Harry, barely managing to regain his composure. “Where did you get those marks on your back?”
“Marks? What are you talking about?” I twisted around to catch sight of my back in the mirrored glass. “Probably when those assholes ran me over?—”
I paused, mid-sentence. In my reflection, I could clearly see that my face was cut in several different spots—nose broken, lip bleeding—and there was a huge purple bruise on the right side of my ribs where the van had struck me, but he hadn’t been talking about that. He’d been talking about my shoulder blades, where I spied what appeared to be ten perfect, nail-shaped scratch marks. They started near my neck and went several inches down my back. I looked over to Jax.
“I literally don’t know when this happened, Jax. I don’t know how this happened!”
The image of Magda’s arms around my neck when I’d pulled her into my lap flashed in my mind like a distant dream. I recalled the sharp pinch of her nails now; thankfully, the image came after my declaration of ignorance, which meant I’d told them the truth… as I’d known it.
This is going worse than I’d even imagined.
“Mercy, get to it,” said Harry. “Might want to look away if it gets you bothered, bishop.”
Jax wouldn’t look up as the nun approached me like a predator, fingers scrabbling at the empty air as if she was going to pounce on me at any given moment. I took a step back.
“Stand still,” Harry ordered as the veiled woman continued forward. “Whatever happens, do not move a single muscle until she’s done.”
The sister stopped by Harry and he lifted her veil. I had to physically restraint myself from recoiling. Beneath the fabric, coupled with standard nun’s clothing, her face was a torturous white island in a sea of black. Her eyelids and lips had been sewn shut with heavy black thread—recently, it seemed, from the dried blood crusted around each needle hole. Dried bloody tears stained either side of her pale cheeks. Only her nose, all the more grotesque for its perfect, upturned, unblemished state, remained uncovered in gore or sewing thread.
“Jax…? Harry? What in the actual fu?—”
The nun reached for me, and as those wretched, shriveled hands came closer, I took a step back out of instinct. She moved like lightning, grabbing my arm with a strength I would never have imagined from someone her size, keeping me still. She ran those horrible hands over my shoulders and the marks on my back, and then pressed her nose close to me. First to my back, but then… The nun knelt in front of me, pressing her face against my cock, snuffling against my slacks like some kind of goddamned truffle pig.
“What is she doing?” I shouted, desperately trying to pull away.
She latched onto my leg with that surprising strength, pressing her face ever closer to my groin, breathing with deep, rhythmic inhales through her nostrils and making horrible moaning sounds low in her throat.
“Stay. Still.” Harry glared at me with crossed arms. “She’s broken bones in the past when people squirmed too much, so I’d advise against sudden movement.”
The woman’s head suddenly tilted back and she shook like she was going into a seizure. I took the chance to slip from her grasp, backing myself into the corner as she went rigid on her knees and blood foamed at her lips.
“Jax!” I screamed. “What the fuck is going on?”
Harry came forward and, with a tiny pair of scissors, held the nun’s head still and carefully cut the lines of thread along her mouth. He stepped back as she leaned forward on all fours like a dog, her mouth yawning open—it was wide, far too wide—as she spewed bloody pink vomit onto the floor. The seizing reached its conclusion, and she breathed heavily, panting and arching her back up and down, hissing through her teeth. I couldn’t tell if she was in pain or doing some kind of weird yoga motion. Harry knelt beside her, looking up at me with accusation in his eyes.
“Speak,” he commanded, never once looking away from me.
“Succubussssssss…” she hissed, the words oddly sibilant. “Oh yessss…” She reached for me, but Harry restrained her. “Joined in unholy congressssss…” Without warning, she tilted her head up to me, as if she could see me, even with her eyes sewn shut. “Markeddd, he isssss… Claimed… No! Give him to me… Ssssshe doesssssn’t dessssserve ssssuch a… ssssspecimen…”
She reached for me again, her mouth spreading into that hideous, too-wide smile.
“I will cleansssse him—tame him. Here…” She stuck out a long, snake-like tongue, letting it roll around as she spoke. “Let him ressst himsssself here. Let me tassste the powerrrrr… I will take him insssside… ssssswalllow the evillll… Ssssswallow it down…” She stood faster than I could blink, mouth curling into rage. “Give him to me—give him to me! I mussssst have him! Sssshe doesss not desssserve him!”
“Enough, Mercy,” snapped Harry, grabbing hold of her arm and whispering a small prayer or incantation of some kind into her ear that made the woman go still as a stone.
She appeared frozen; her face captured in that same rictus of agony.
“What. Is. Happening,” I panted, having practically pushed myself through the wall to get as far away from her as I could. “And what the hell is she?”
Harry stood and pulled a white handkerchief from his belt, wiping the sister’s bloody foam from his knee, where he’d accidentally knelt in it. He tossed the manacles back to me with his free hand.
“Put those on,” he commanded, before turning to Jax. “Bishop, I’ll leave him in your hopefully adequate care. We’ll talk more tomorrow about this… turn of events.”
“As you say, Harry,” said Jax, weariness in his voice. He stood, grabbing hold of his cane. “Gather your things , and come with me.”