Succubus Dreams

CHAPTER 22

Seth wasn't at the bookstore the next day, which I took as a bad sign. It was usually his passive-aggressive reaction to whenever we had a fight.

I thought about him a lot while I worked, thinking of that awful blowout. We'd had a lot of uncomfortable talks in our time together, but we'd never had anything like that. I couldn't put my finger on exactly what about it bothered me—aside from the obvious—but I kept feeling like it was a pivotal moment, something that was going to have long-reaching effects. It scared me, and I wanted to fix things.

And, of course, there was Nyx to worry about. I was going to find a victim after work, and then Vincent said the angels would come while I was asleep—when Nyx made her move.

"You okay?"

I looked up from the stack of checks I was signing in my office. Maddie stood there in a black pencil skirt and fitted white blouse that made her look super amazing. She'd worn her hair down too.

"Wow," I said. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing," she said, with a shrug. "Wardrobe overhaul." She lifted one foot, revealing three-inch black heels.

"Holy shit," I said. "You don't do anything in halves."

She beamed, and I noticed something about her that had nothing to do with the new clothes. There was joy in her eyes—a happiness that made her confident and even more radiant. She was a far cry from the bitter woman who'd shown up at the auction.

"What's going on?" I asked, not fixating on myself for the first time today.

Her grin widened, revealing her phantom dimple. A moment later, she turned more serious. "I'll tell you later. My news is good. But you…what's the matter? You look awful."

Yasmine had said the same thing last night. It really was a sad day when a succubus couldn't stay on top of her game. I shook my head.

"It's…complicated." I offered a weak smile. "I'll deal with it, don't worry. Now, come on. I'd rather hear something cheerful. Tell me what's going on."

"Can't. They need me out there. I just came to drop these off." She set a stack of papers on my desk. They practically melted into the other stacks I already had. My office was so chaotic, it could have been a lair for Nyx in and of itself.

"Come on, the suspense is going to drive me crazy," I teased.

"Well…you think you can give me a lift to the airport tomorrow? I'm going home for Christmas."

"You taking Doug with you?"

"Nope. He's your holiday gift. But I'll give you the scoop then if you can give me a ride. I'd probably need to leave around five."

"Five o'clock traffic on the Friday before Christmas. We're going to have a lot of time to talk."

A bit of her normal nervousness reappeared. "If it's a problem…"

"Nope. We're closing early anyway. We'll go then."

Maddie left, and I found myself momentarily distracted by whatever her news could be. Whatever it was, it was a good thing. I liked the change it had brought about. That sort of happiness and confidence suited her.

My thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. I answered and found Seth on the other end.

"Hey," I said, hoping I sounded cool and confident and not desperate and relieved.

"Hey." A long pause followed. "I…just…wanted to make sure we were on for Christmas."

My heart sank. No: "I've missed you." No: "I'm sorry."

"Sure. Wouldn't miss it."

Thinking about Christmas. I experienced a weird sense of déjà vu. We'd also been with his brother on Thanksgiving. And like now, we'd also been fighting. There it was again: my life, the endless loop. You aren't learning. You aren't changing.

Of course, Seth and I had patched up the other fight. Maybe that kind of resolution would repeat itself too. After all, holidays were supposed to be magic, right?

"Okay," he told me. "I'll pick you up."

"Okay."

Another long pause. "I'd come by today, but…well. The book…"

The book. Always the book. Then again, I was busy with chaos deities today. "Yeah, I know. It's fine."

"We'll talk on Christmas."

"Okay."

We hung up. A chill ran through me. There it was again. I had no gift for premonition, but an inner instinct—one that had nothing to do with Nyx's visions of the future—told me there was something big coming.

After work, I drove over to Bellevue, Seattle's richest and most pretentious suburb. A city in its own right, Bellevue was pretty much the polar opposite of SeaTac. Hotels, restaurants, and shopping were continually being added to its downtown strip, and the influx of money from Boeing and Microsoft was steadily replacing older, plain buildings with sleeker and more stylish architecture.

Bellevue was also home to a guy I knew named Kevin. I'd met him years ago in a bar. There was nothing overly extraordinary about Kevin. He was neither a sinner nor a saint, instead occupying some happy ground in the middle that yielded a decent amount of energy whenever I slept with him. His most notable trait was that he was perpetually available. He worked at home—some Web business, I believed—and never seemed to go out, despite being good-looking and sociable. I didn't question that too much, though, because it suited my purposes whenever I needed quick and easy sex with someone I didn't completely loathe.

"Sandra," he said happily, opening the door of his condo for me. He had dark brown hair and a closely trimmed, very new beard that I approved of. Dark brown eyes regarded me with amusement. "Been a while."

My "Sandra" form had a petite build similar to the one I usually wore. After that, the resemblance ended. My hair was now curly and black, my eyes a blue that looked violet sometimes. Underneath my long black coat, I wore a sleeveless navy blue dress that fit snugly and was far too skimpy for this kind of weather.

"It has been," I agreed. "Does that mean you aren't going to let me in?"

He smiled and stepped back, grandly waving me inside. "What, do you think I'm crazy or something? Only an idiot would turn you away."

I followed Kevin down the hall and into his living room. He'd redecorated since the last time I was here, and the change was nice. The furniture and décor were now all done in shades of a grayish blue that reminded me of winter twilights. A fireplace crackled on one side of the room, and a large bay window looked out to another set of condos. I draped my coat over a chair and smoothed miniscule wrinkles out of the dress.

"You want something to drink?" he asked, hands in his pockets.

I shook my head. "I don't have much time."

He gave me a rueful smile. "You never do. You know, sometimes I feel used."

"Is that a problem?"

"Problem?" he asked with a snort. "A beautiful woman who wants to have sex with me and no commitments? Hardly a problem." He took a few steps toward me. "Use me all you want."

He came closer still, and we met in a kiss. No delay, no preamble. I wrapped my arms around his neck and parted my lips, eager to feel him and taste him. His hands rested on my hips for a moment, then slid upward. He caught my dress's straps and pulled them down, baring my breasts and still kissing me the whole time. Pushing forward, he pressed me against the wall, near the fireplace. I felt its heat against the bare skin of my legs. His hands cupped my breasts, thumbs sliding to my nipples and squeezing them. He varied the intensity, sometimes hard and sometimes gentle.

I broke the kiss long enough to incline my head toward the uncovered window behind him. "The window—"

He crushed his mouth back against mine. Our tongues danced together briefly, and then he pulled back just long enough to say, "I know." The tone of his voice told me that he not only knew—he also wanted it that way. I didn't question it. This apparently was the season for exhibitionism.

Eventually, he moved his mouth away from mine and trailed kisses down my neck. I tilted my head back and arched the rest of my body toward his. One of his hands continued cupping a breast as he nibbled on its nipple, teeth and tongue stirring it to arousal. His other hand pushed up my skirt, eagerly seeking my panties and what lay within.

The ache for his energy and his touch coursed through me. I moaned softly as he moved his lips down my body. Shifting to the floor, he settled on his knees while still keeping me standing against the wall. He pulled the panties down all the way, so they hung around my ankles. Sliding his hands between my thighs, he pulled them apart slightly and then buried his face between them, his stubble tickling me. I was burning and wet, more so than I'd realized, and when his tongue touched my aching clit, I moaned more loudly and felt my knees tremble slightly.

I started to tell him that he didn't need to do this, that it was okay if he just wanted to get straight to the main event. But as his tongue gently moved back and forth, building the heat and ecstasy within me, I swallowed my words. The last three guys I'd slept with hadn't made me come, and although this visit was strictly utilitarian and part of the Nyx plan, I suddenly and selfishly wanted to get more than his life energy out of it.

Back and forth his tongue moved, speed and intensity continually shifting. As his thoughts began to trickle into me, I could tell that he liked doing that not simply for the sake of novelty, but also because he liked seeing the way I reacted to each slight change. He was one of those men who truly enjoyed making a woman happy. The burning spot he'd brought to life between my legs grew and grew, expanding beyond where his tongue touched, beyond my thighs. Steadily, it spread into my whole body, all the way to my fingertips. I felt like fire in human—or rather, succubus—form and writhed against the wall, against him. My knees buckled as the searing pleasure reached a critical point inside me, and his hands moved down to steady my legs and keep me upright.

At last the core within me exploded, the fire turning to pure light, pure bliss. I cried out at the way the orgasm consumed me, at the way his tongue still kept teasing me even in the throes of my climax. Finally, even he couldn't keep me upright. My legs had turned to jelly, and I sank to the floor in front of him. He smiled, genuinely pleased, and leaned forward to kiss me. I could taste me on his lips.

"Come on," he said, taking my hands and helping me up. He led me over to the window and peeled off the rest of my dress. He eased me onto a high window seat. Removing his own clothes, he murmured, "I should go find a condom."

My breathing was rapid, my heart pounding away. "No, I want to feel you—just you." I took his hand and brought it between my legs, guiding his fingers into me. "I want you to feel me."

I'd been wet before starting all this and was now doubly so after what he'd just done. His fingers glided easily inside of me, and his eyes widened at what he felt. Indecision played on his face, and then he nodded. If counseling any of my human friends, I would certainly advocate safe sex. It didn't matter for me personally, however, since I couldn't catch anything or get pregnant. Often with victims, I'd talk them out of any sort of protection in order to increase their guilt. With Kevin tonight, I didn't want to bother with condoms simply because I didn't want to waste the time. My urgency and desire were too strong. I wanted him now.

I slid my hands down his stomach and felt how hard he was. He wanted me too. I wrapped my fingers around him, stroking and massaging and loving the way he swelled within my hand. Pressing my back against the cold glass, I drew my knees up to me and then spread them wide, feeling rather like a butterfly. The window seat was exactly the perfect height, putting us hip to hip as I led him inside of me.

We both gasped at the contact. He pushed in as far as possible, our hips pressed skin to skin. The way he filled me up was exquisite. Shape-shifting meant I could make myself as tight as possible, and I loved how he tested the limits of it. He paused a moment, simply savoring the way our bodies felt together, and then slowly began moving in and out of me, rocking me against the window with each thrust.

And with that, his life began pouring into me in earnest. I nearly exhaled with relief. The sensation of that energy filling me up rivaled the feel of his body inside me. I had missed it so much, missed the wonder and joy of that pure, indescribable energy generated by the human soul. Nyx had been stealing a part of me, and I was glad to have it back, if only for this moment. The thoughts coming through with his energy were happy and content ones as he reveled in the pleasure of being with me. A secret, kinky part of him was turned on by hoping that his neighbors across the way might be watching. He hoped they were. He hoped they were jealous.

His thrusts grew harder and harder, and he murmured over and over how wonderful I was, how beautiful. Still sensitive from him going down on me, I came twice more, my body melting as the orgasms' spasms shook me. At last, I felt his body tense and saw his expression signal he was about to lose control. I dug my nails into his arms and begged him to come in me. He did, shoving me so hard against the window that I hoped the glass would hold. The peak of his energy hit me with his climax, and as it faded, we both sighed happily.

I didn't abandon him quite as quickly as I had Bryce, but I didn't spend time lounging in the afterglow either. I helped him get dressed and made sure he was situated comfortably on the couch before I left. I liked him, after all, and hoped I'd see him again in some other casual situation. His face was languid and content as we made our good-byes.

"You are the most exhausting woman I've ever been with," he told me, eyelids flickering with fatigue.

I couldn't help a smile. Of course I was. Other lovers didn't steal his soul—at least not literally.

"Does that mean you want me to stay away longer next time?"

He smiled and yawned. "No. Absolutely not."

Still smiling, I left and headed back to the city. But as I drove closer to downtown, brimming with energy, my happy feelings faded. I remembered why I'd had to go see him in the first place and what would happen tonight. My body, so achingly hot an hour ago, grew cold.

When I arrived back at my apartment, Vincent, Carter, and Yasmine were already waiting for me. None of them commented on my glow. Instead, they launched right into the plan.

"Nyx will probably come trolling around tonight," Carter explained. "And when she sees you've got energy again, she'll do her thing."

Yasmine nodded along. "We can't be here when it happens. Vincent will be around, out in the living room. She won't suspect him of anything; she'll figure he's an ordinary human. But when he senses her feeding off of you, he'll let us know. Then, we'll show up and bind her."

I didn't like the sound of any of that—neither the feeding nor the binding. "What's that mean?"

"We'll pull her out and trap her," said Carter. Presumably "out" meant out of me. Yikes.

"Then we'll take her away, back to her prison," added Yasmine.

Their confidence inspired confidence in me, and I suspected I was being influenced by angelic charisma. But there was no way out of this, not if I wanted to shake my nighttime visitor.

"All right," I said. "Let's do this."

The angels left. It was still early evening, so I hung out with Vincent. We played a couple games of cards and watched bad movies. Hanging out with him in such a casual way made it easy to forget he was a nephilim. When midnight loomed, I stood up and stretched.

"I don't think I can sleep," I remarked. "It's like trying to go to bed on Christmas Eve. Too jittery to settle down. Except…it's not Santa I'm waiting for."

He smiled. "Well, try. If we need to, we can probably give you a sedative or something, but this whole thing will be more efficient without."

It took a long time—lying in bed for almost two hours—before I fell asleep. It wasn't easy to relax when you were inviting a creature of chaos to come feed off of you. And yet, as I drifted off, I couldn't help a small flicker of eagerness. I'd be dreaming the dream again.

And I did.

It started from the beginning, like always, running all the way to the part where the little girl fell and my dream-self comforted her. The girl's tears were drying when we both heard the faint sound of a car door closing. My dream-self straightened up. A smile blossomed on her face as she regarded her—my—daughter with the kind of over-exaggerated excitement adults often use with children.

"You hear that?" my dream-self asked. "Daddy's home."

Mirrored excitement showed on the girl's face as my dream-self stood up, still holding the girl and balancing her on one hip. It was an act of some coordination, considering how small my dream-self was.

They walked to the front door and stepped outside onto a porch. It was nighttime, all quiet darkness, save for a small light hanging on the porch. It shone onto a long stretch of unbroken white snow on the lawn and the driveway. All around, more snow fell in a steady stream. I didn't recognize the place, but it certainly wasn't Seattle. That much snow would have sent the city into a panic, putting everyone on Armageddon alert. My dream-self was perfectly at ease, barely noticing the snow. Wherever she was, it was a common occurrence.

In the driveway, a car had just pulled up. I felt my dream-self's heart swell with happiness. A man stood behind it, a non-descript dark figure in the faint lighting. He took out a rolling suitcase and slammed the trunk shut. The little girl clasped her hands in excitement, and my dream-self waved a hand in greeting. The man returned the wave as he walked toward the house, and my waking self tried desperately to see his face. It was too dark. I needed him to get closer, just a little closer—

I couldn't get any closer because just then, I felt my soul get ripped out of me.

I sat up in bed, nearly screaming in agony at the pain coursing through me. All four angels, plus Vincent, ringed the room. The power pulsing around us felt like smoke. I could barely breathe.

And there, beside my bed, was Nyx.

She looked a lot like Erik's description: an old, emaciated woman. Her skin and hair were white, her dark eyes sunken and inhuman. A tattered, gossamer dress wrapped around her body. She had an almost translucent look, like she wasn't entirely solid, and a sparkling aura shone around her.

I couldn't see the forces being wielded, but I felt them distinctly. The angels temporarily had her enclosed in walls of power, but she wasn't bound, not yet. She pushed back against their restraints with considerable power of her own, and I gaped. Any one of those angels dwarfed my own power—yet, their combined force was still an even match for hers. It was a staggering thought, and I couldn't understand why she'd need my energy since she had so much of her own. And actually, she did have some of mine. She'd taken about half before they'd pulled her out of me.

Nyx shrieked in rage, still pushing back on them. Then, bit by bit, I could see the balance shift. Her power was fading the more she used it. The angels' was steady. They were weakening her. She realized this and panic showed on her face. Casting frantic eyes over all the angels, she finally rested her gaze on Yasmine. There was still enough of a faint connection between us that I realized what Nyx was going to do. She'd sought out the least powerful of the foursome. Mustering the last of her power, she blasted it toward Yasmine, hoping both to smash the angels' united front and hurt Yasmine enough to cause a distraction.

A heartbeat before Nyx unleashed her attack, I saw Vincent's face. He too realized what she was going to do. He moved forward, and I felt his mask drop. The telltale nephilim signature washed over me, and his power filled the room as well. There was a lot of it. He'd held back in the alley.

Invisible energy rushed from Nyx toward Yasmine, trying to destroy the angel. But Vincent was there, blocking the attack. It rebounded back on Nyx. She screamed again, her defenses shattering. The other angels seized the opportunity, and bands of light snapped into place around her. A moment later, the light faded, but the restraints were there, even if I could no longer see them. She clawed around her, like a twisted version of a mime in a box, but she was trapped. She couldn't get through the walls they'd locked her in.

They'd done it. They'd recaptured Nyx. But none of the angels were paying attention to her.

They were all looking at Vincent.

"You," gasped Joel.

He didn't hesitate. He strode toward the nephilim, and I saw Joel's body start to shimmer with light. He was about to transform into his true form, a form of terrible beauty and power.

But Yasmine was faster.

The slim, dark-haired woman became pure light. She was all the colors of the rainbow and none of them. A sword of flame appeared in her hands. She stepped in front of Vincent—who was screaming at her to stop—and swung toward Joel. The blade hit him, and he screamed.

An awful, burning sensation was starting to flood me. Hastily, I shielded my eyes and looked away, realizing what I'd almost done. An angel's true form was an indescribable thing, requiring senses a human—or a human-turned-succubus—didn't possess. Staring at her could cause me major damage. Even being in the same room with her hurt.

But I'd seen what I'd needed to before looking away. I'd seen the sword fall. Yasmine had attacked Joel. Nyx had pegged her as the weakest of the four, but Yasmine and Joel must have been incredibly close in power. Catching him by surprise like that tipped the scales.

The air in the room swirled, reaching hurricane levels. Power exploded around me, like a sun going supernova. Everything was fire and wind. And screaming. Twin screams: Yasmine's and Joel's. I wrapped my arms around me, burying my face, certain I was going to die. The energy exploding toward me reached a point in which it would surely blow up the building, blow up the world. Stronger and stronger it grew.

Suddenly, it all reversed. Power rushed away from my side of the room, back toward the angels. It was like a black hole had formed, sucking everything toward it. Of course, it was only pulling energy, not physical objects, but I nonetheless felt like it was dragging me in too. I clutched the bed's comforter, using it like an anchor to hold me down. Time ceased to have meaning. Ten seconds or ten hours could have passed for all I knew.

Finally, the rushing stopped, and everything went still. The atmosphere returned to normal. No more insane power levels. There was only what you would normally expect in a room with three angels, a nephilim, a succubus, and a primordial entity of chaos. The latter had suddenly moved to the backburner of everyone's attention.

Yasmine had returned to her "human" form. It was safe for me. I looked up, expecting Carter and Whitney to swoop in and attack her. But they stood frozen. No trace of Joel remained. He was gone, destroyed. The typhoon of power had marked his death.

Yasmine was on her knees, fingers digging into the sides of her face. She sobbed, murmuring words that sounded like frantic prayers. Vincent, like the angels, kept his distance from her. She had just killed Joel. I didn't understand why no one was acting. Why were they just standing there? Everyone seemed to be waiting for something.

Suddenly, a voice hissed beside me, more in my mind than spoken aloud.

"Succubus."

I looked into Nyx's cavernous eyes. Like Vincent and the angels, I'd forgotten about her. She extended her hand toward me, and I cringed. Fortunately, the invisible binds kept her from getting any closer.

"Succubus," she repeated. "Touch the walls. Use the last of your power to set me free."

"What? No!" I was dividing my attention between her and the others. The angelic group still stood motionless.

"Free me, and I'll help you exact your revenge."

"Revenge? Who are you talking about?"

"The one who sent me to you when I escaped," she rasped. "The one who promised you to me."

I had no clue what she meant.

"Like…who freed you?"

She cast an uneasy look behind her. Time was ticking down on her distraction.

"No, you were promised to me! But I can help you. Help you punish—"

"No," I said. She was too dangerous. Whatever insane revenge she was talking about wasn't worth what she could do to mortals if she was freed.

Her desperation grew. The angels were eventually going to remember her, and we both knew it.

"I will show you the end of the dream!" she cried. "I'll show you the man. The man in the dream."

My heart stopped.

"He isn't real," I whispered. "It was all a lie. You used it to trick me."

"No! Everything I show is true. Always true."

"It can't be…it's impossible." I swallowed and felt tears starting to fill my eyes. I wanted it to be true. More than anything. "That can't ever happen to me."

Nyx beat her hands on her unseen prison walls. "It's real! It's the future! I've seen it. Touch the walls, and I will show you. I will show you the man in the dream!"

I wanted to. I wanted to see him. I needed to see him. The man in the dream. The man who could maybe truly make this future happen….

My hand moved forward, like it was being controlled by an outside force. Nyx's eyes widened, eager and hungry.

All of a sudden, a scream split the air.

No, it was more than a scream. When Yasmine had destroyed Joel, that had involved screaming. This was more than that. It was the most horrible noise in the universe, a phenomenon that went beyond mere sound. Much as my eyes couldn't exactly perceive an angel's appearance, my ears couldn't fully comprehend this.

My hand dropped from Nyx, and I jerked my gaze to the angels. Yasmine was still on her knees, and flames were starting to consume her. It was no ordinary fire, though. It reminded me of the light of her true form: all colors and none. Carter and Whitney watched, faces unreadable.

Vincent also watched. He'd taken a few steps toward me, backing away from the fire. The look on his face was filled with a jumble of emotions, none of them good. I didn't understand what was happening to Yasmine yet, but I knew what would happen to him.

"Get out," I told him in a low voice.

His face was pale, as pale as Nyx's. He looked like he'd aged a hundred years. "I can't…I can't leave her…"

"You have to. They'll destroy you. Or if they don't, someone else will. Someone else in the city will have noticed this. You know I'm right."

His eyes were still on Yasmine. I could no longer see her, though. She was all flame—flame that had turned black.

"Go!" I exclaimed. "It's what she'd want. She did this for you!"

Vincent flinched at those words and finally looked at me. The full force of his grief made the held-back tears spill down my cheeks.

"Go. Please," I begged. Joel had been destroyed. Yasmine looked like she was about to be. I couldn't stand anymore death.

He said nothing, but after several seconds, he turned invisible. I felt his aura go.

Across the room, the flames were starting to fade. Yasmine was slowly reappearing, completely unscathed. She looked no different, but something about her signature had changed. I felt the same golden light, the impression of saffron and frankincense. But it was edged in something else. It no longer had the sharp, crystalline quality of angelic auras. That was gone, replaced by a dark and smoky feel—a smokiness that had nothing to do with the fire.

The flames finally disappeared altogether, and Yasmine still knelt on the floor. Seconds later, another signature joined us, one I knew well. Jerome stood in the room, apparently back from whatever clandestine matters he'd needed to oversee.

He looked from face to face, finally focusing on mine. "Jesus Christ. What have you done now?"

I ignored him, unable to tear my gaze from Yasmine. She looked the same, exactly the same. And yet, she wasn't…

She'd noticed the change too. She held her arms out in front of her, studying them as though she'd never seen herself before. Horror flooded her features.

"No," she moaned. "No…" She began sobbing again.

Carter finally looked away from her and met Jerome's eyes. "This is yours now, Charon."

Jerome nodded and stepped toward Yasmine. "Time to go."

She looked up at him, face glistening with tears. She said nothing, but she didn't need to. Her expression said everything. It was a plea, a plea that none of this was real, that maybe—just maybe—Jerome could make it all go away. He shook his head and touched her shoulder. They vanished.

The room was quiet, an unnatural quiet that felt almost oppressive. My voice seemed strange and out of place.

"Wh-what happened?" I asked Carter. I noticed now that Whitney was crying.

"Yasmine has fallen," he said softly. "She's a demon now."