The Succubae Seduction Ch 17

Author's Note:

Real quick, I know I usually do this at the end, but I really wanted to thank two people for their efforts in this story. Garbonzo607 as you know is my editor, he does an excellent job, and should really be commended for it. The time and effort he puts into this story, the blog, and everything else he does to make this story stand out is truly exemplary!

Also, SophieX deserves a shout out, for her ideas that went into this chapter. It's also thanks to her, that there has been more dialog and detail for the last while, than there was in the beginning chapters.

Now, without further ado, here is chapter 17!

After being captured by and escaping Orcs, a megalomaniacal dragon, an irate demon, chased by Cyclopes, and narrowly avoiding certain death at the hands of a light creature that wants to destroy all worlds, it's almost embarrassing to be taken into custody by something as mundane as the local police force.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Chapter 17

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

The Daughter of Respite

How long are they going to keep me tied up in here, I wonder for the umpteenth time. My wrists are handcuffed to a bar on top of a table; the chain connecting the circlets runs around the bar. The metal chair I'm sitting on doesn't add to my comfort. I'm not sure how many hours I've been in here, but my rear is getting sore.

I hadn't resisted when the gun-toting officers had arrested me, but the way they'd reacted makes me think they believe me to be some sort of monster. They'd read me my Miranda rights, but otherwise haven't said more than two words to me.

The big metal door on my right finally opens, and a very plain looking woman dressed sharply in a dark suit steps through. Her dark brown, nearly black hair is tied back tightly into a ponytail and her severe brown eyes seem to penetrate me to the very soul.

Speaking of which, how do I consider my soul? Do I have only one, or do I have many? A question for another time, I think, as she sits across from me. Placing a manila envelope on the table, she glares at me. The mirror behind her lets me know that I've probably been under surveillance the whole while.

Minutes go by in silence, as her dark eyes try to bore into me. I must be getting some of Angela's ability to read intentions, because I know she's waiting for me to crack and talk first.

I wait.

Growing bored, I try to use my ability to see someone's past, but feel as if I've run into a brick wall. I don't think she is actively blocking me, but rather that I'm still too weak after the ordeal last night with Becky and Aldol.

I wait some more.

My hands grow sweaty, and I have to consciously stop myself from tapping my foot with impatience. To occupy my mind, I begin having one-sided games with her. I stare into her eyes, and try to guess how many lashes she has. After losing count for the fifth time, I try to count her freckles. I count forty-two. I try to examine every aspect of her face, and notice that one eye is slightly lighter in color than the other. Her left eye is still brown, but not as dark as her right. Both earlobes have only a single piercing, but are empty of earrings. Her eyebrows are thick and untrimmed, but they are separate. Her nose is what I suppose they call a 'button nose' which sits above a thin set of lips. Her face is slender, leading down to a slightly pointed chin.

"You're a patient man, Mr. Snow." Her voice actually startles me, and I see her grin at my jumpiness.

Dang it, I'd been playing the game so well!

I smile back, keeping my silence. Let her make of

that

what she will.

Her smile broadens. Apparently, she's one of those women who neither gets prettier, nor uglier when she smiles, remaining constantly plain.

"It seems you're quite the interesting man." She opens up the manila envelope, and shoves something over to me. It stops in front of me, and I see that it's a sideways picture of something that makes my mouth go dry. I can't reach the black and white picture to straighten it out, but I don't have to.

My face is easily visible in the sharp image, and I recognize the surroundings of the impound lot where I'd broken the Orange Bubble free. Angela is tightly grasped in my arms, as I hold her protectively. The worst part of the picture though, is me standing with my dark wings spread wide, my mouth open in an inaudible yell, and dogs just starting to turn and run in fear.

"I see you recognize it," the woman says, satisfaction in her voice.

Drat! She's good, I realize, knowing I'm out-matched. I can't give in yet though.

"Recognize it?" I say, trying to look calmly back at the woman. "Looks impressive. Who did the Photoshop work?"

Aggravatingly, her smile deepens. "Let's dispense with this game, shall we?" Her voice is triumphant as she speaks. "We both know that is you. We both know that you somehow leaped over the fence with these wings and crashed your old-style Volkswagen Beetle through the front gate, driving away." I keep quiet, and she seems to take that for assent. "What I'd like to know, is how you made those wings, and used them."

Wait. . . . What? She doesn't want to know why I broke my car out, or why I'm holding an unconscious woman in my arms?

Too late, I realize this must be another of her efforts to throw me off balance. She really

is

good.

I concentrate on her again, trying to read something from her, but only come away with her name. Well, it'll have to be good enough. The only question now is how much of my hand to play, and how much to bluff.

"Agent Olsen—may I call you Miranda?—you wanted to dispense of games, let's do so." If she's shocked by my knowledge of her name, it doesn't show. "What do you really want to know?"

She regards me for a second, before reaching out and pulling the incriminating picture back. She doesn't put it away, but instead pulls another picture out, and lays it next to the first. It takes a bit of effort not to gulp as I see this one. The image isn't as clear, but I'm still able to make out enough details to recognize the grocery store parking lot, where the Myrmidon had attacked Jennifer and me. The fire ant creature is blowing fire at me, and I know that this is the moment of my car's demise.

Another image follows, and I almost fail to stifle a groan. In this one, I'm lying on top of my car, wings out and draped down the side of my car as it drives away from my burning apartment building.

"You asked what I want to know, Mr. Snow," her calm face actually breaks at the unintended rhyme, the corner of her mouth dipping just slightly. The crack in her façade lasts only a second, before she's all cool business again. "It's simple, really. I want to know what you are." Her brown eyes pierce me again, and I have to look down at the images, in order not to crack under their glare.

What can I tell her that she'll believe? The truth is too far-fetched, but the evidence is in those pictures. Can I tell her the wings are just a mechanical attachment? A quick glance up at her face tells me I'd better not try. If I tell her what I am, and about the Shadow World, she'll have me locked up in a loony bin. Or worse, if she believes me, I'll find myself being studied by scientists, and possibly dissected. I guess there is only one thing to do, and hope it doesn't get me locked up in a psyche ward. I'm way too weak to break out of here.

"I'm the child of a mermaid, and something else," I begin. I have to force the words past my throat, afraid of having this woman throw me even more off balance. "I don't know what my father was. I seem to have the powers of an incubus as well, so maybe that's what he was. They're dead now, so I can't exactly ask him. Everyone calls me a generator, though, so maybe that's what I am." I raise my eyes to see how my admission is affecting her, but she still has on her calm exterior, except for her eyes. Those mismatched brown orbs are glowing with an inner light that strikes me as different from Aldol. "You wanted to know what I am? I'm apparently an abomination that shouldn't exist, but seem to be the only person that can save two worlds."

I meet her slightly mismatched eye, feeling defiant inside, just daring her to look away. Instead, she smiles.

"That was a lot easier than usual," she states evenly. "Normally we have to drag confessions out of you monsters with various torture techniques." Her voice could be talking about the weather, she's so calm. "Of course, most of your kind are better at hiding than you seem to be. It's not very often we get photo evidence of what you are."

"Wait," I say, shaking my head to clear it, "you believe me?"

She deigns to give me a condescending smile before speaking. "The Daughters of Respite have always been vigilant against your ilk."

I don't like the way she said that.

"My . . . ilk?" I stammer. "Look, I think you have the wrong idea about me. I'm

not

a monster! I'm trying to

save

lives!"

"Like those twelve that died in your apartment fire?" she asks, raising one thick eyebrow. "Or what about all the property damage you caused at that grocery store?" She pushes the picture of me holding Angela in my arms forward, before stabbing her finger down at the comatose succubus. "She doesn't exactly look too alive right there." Anger seeps into her voice, and it's all the worse for following after the calm.

"The fire wasn't my fault," I exclaim defensively, "and Angela is still alive. I had to get her to my car to save her life!"

That eyebrow rises again before she responds, her voice even once more. "How many women have you seduced with that line? It

is

your fault, Mr. Snow. If you hadn't been in our world, then that fire never would have happened. That poor woman never would have needed your help. We rested this world away from you and your kind. You can be damned certain we're not going to give it up now."

This woman seems to be very knowledgeable about the past. Who is she? She'd called herself a member of the Daughters of Respite, whoever they are. This is definitely the last thing I expected when the police had brought me in here.

"I don't know what you think you know," I say hesitantly, "but I was born here on Earth. I'm not a monster feeding on hapless prey. Earth and the Shadow World are both in danger, and I may be the only one that can save either one."

She gives a bark of laughter that's nearly as startling as her anger had been a minute ago. "Many of the things from your world have birth certificates here. It's actually a fairly easy thing to fake. But you want me to believe you're important because you're this generator? We've heard the prophecy your kind made up. Do you really think we're that gullible? The Daughters of Respite have been protecting Earth for a millennium. We're not so easily fooled by simple words."

"But I'm telling the truth!" I yell at her, my patience finally lost. It's so frustrating to sit here; handcuffed and weak, telling the truth to someone who refuses to even acknowledge she might not have all the facts. "A light demon call Aldol is trying to collapse the Shadow World. I—"

"Good," she cuts me off, a malicious gleam in her eyes. "Let that demented world collapse. Let all those monsters die in the world they escaped justice to."

"You don't understand," I cry out. "If the Shadow World collapses, then it's just as likely that all of those creatures, both good and bad, will be forced back to our world. It'll be catastrophic if that happens."

"Our world?" Derision is thick in her voice now. "Do not presume that you can call this world your 'home' vile monster. You claim that both good and bad monsters will come here, but there are no good monsters. I'm done listening to your lies." Agent Olsen slips the pictures back into the manila envelope, and stands to leave. "I have a report to file with my fellow sisters."

I try to stand and stop her, but the handcuffs stop me. Concentrating my will on her again, I try to get her to stop, and feel myself growing weaker. I can't have her reporting to some group that is hell-bent on killing all creatures from the Shadow World. If she kills me, and I really am the one that's been prophesied about, then both worlds are in serious trouble, and I may be the only one that can save them.

She pauses at the door, and I think my efforts to stop her are working.

"Of course," she states hesitantly, "if you were willing to lead us to one of the portals to your world, we would be willing to take you back there. You'd have to watch as we kill everything we find, but at least you'd live that much longer."

"Damn it!" I swear, frustration making me slip into using poor language. Helplessly I stare at her, wishing that there was something more I could do than just sit here handcuffed to this table.

She turns to look at me, to see how I'm taking her proposal, and our eyes meet.

Miranda Olsen had been a little girl when she'd watched her parents die. The images from that night still haunt her. The spray of blood as her mother's throat was ripped open by a set of sharp fangs. Her father screaming for Miranda to run, before a furry creature knocks him over, and begins gleefully tearing out his entrails.

The moon had been high and full in the cloudless summer night sky. They had been camping up in the mountains, enjoying the millions of stars that can only be seen away from civilization. The attack had come unexpectedly. The only reason she had been in the small camper instead of by the fire with her father, mother, and brother, was because she had gone in to grab a soda.

She'd heard the howls, followed by her mother's scream, suddenly cut short. Terrified, she'd hidden under the table/bunk. Even when the howls of feasting had turned to yelps of alarm, she refused to come out, ignoring her father's pleas to run in her terror. It wasn't until a gore spattered older woman entered with an equally gore covered sword in hand, and she involuntarily gasped in fright, that she truly became afraid, voiding her bladder.

The older woman spun to face her, brandishing a shiny sword, and staring down at the girl. She had been kind, checking over Miranda and making sure she hadn't been hurt. A blindfold was placed over her eyes before they carried her out of there, but it was already too late. The violence of the scene was already imprinted indelibly in her memory.

It wasn't until many years later that she found out her brother's body was never found.

If I wasn't already sitting, my legs would have given way beneath me. I feel even weaker than I had been before the police took me into custody. I understand this plain looking woman a lot more than I had just a few moments before. No wonder she hates me so much, hates all creatures that aren't one-hundred percent human.

Before I have the chance to say anything, she turns and walks from the room. Dejected and full of despair, I drop my head to my arms and try not to think about my fate.

The door opens a few seconds later, and I refuse to look up. I won't give her the satisfaction of knowing how I truly feel right now.

She grabs my right wrist, and I can feel her playing with the lock on my restraints. Maybe if I time it right, I'll be able to disarm her and fight my way out.

As soon as my hand is free, I stand in a rush, throwing the last bit of my energy into grabbing her throat and throwing her back.

I see that it isn't Miranda, but a young female cop instead. She hits the back wall, as I pull the cuff still attached to my left wrist away from the bar and head over to the downed officer to grab her gun.

"Lyden," the cop gasps, making me freeze, "it's me, Angela."

"Angela?" I ask, stunned. Looking closer at her, I can see that she's quite attractive. I've never seen her as a cop before, and wonder who was having a cop fantasy to help her come in here disguised like this. Her blonde hair is disheveled from my attack, parts of it sticking out of the bun in the back of her head. She looks up at me, and I can see that her rich blue eyes are framed by long lashes. There is no mistaking the look of love behind those eyes though, and I know it's her. Terrible guilt for attacking her seethes through me, but how was I supposed to know it was her?

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea it was you!" I gasp, bending over, and trying to help her up.

"Never mind that now," she groans as I help her back to her feet. "Damn, those lessons with Lisa have really helped you out." She shakes her head to clear it while rubbing her throat, and then looks fearfully at me. "We need to get you out of here now! There's a DOR out there, and they aren't known for being friendly with anyone with ties to my world."

It takes me a moment to realize she was pronouncing the initials for Daughters of Respite, and not saying that there's a door that won't open for us.

"Yeah, I met her," I grumble. "I don't think she likes me very much, and I'm usually so good with women."

Angela's smile dazzles across her face, and I feel myself warmed by it. It only lasts for a moment before she looks at my wrist and frowns. "We need to get you out of here before she returns. Those women are dangerous."

I get anxious when the succubus locks the handcuff loosely behind my back, but know that we need to keep up some kind of appearance to make it out of here. If only I could go invisible like her.

She walks me out in front of her and down a long hallway. We enter the office area and I wait for someone to yell out that we aren't supposed to be out here.

The trouble comes from a different angle.

"Officer Jenkins, what're you doing out here? I thought I just saw you in the break room."

Angela curses softly behind me, and I comprehend that she'd taken the image of another officer in this precinct. By the tone of this officer, I suspect he'd been the one fantasizing about Officer Jenkins.

"I just need to run him out real quick," Angela says behind me, keeping her calm. "I'll be back in a second. There was something I wanted to talk to you about anyway." Her voice becomes a little solicitous at the end, and I find myself growing irrationally jealous. I know she's just pretending, but it still galls me to hear a woman I love act like that for someone else.

Yeah, I know, double standards. The women I'm with are okay with me being with other women, but I have an issue with them even fake flirting. At least I'm not trying to rule every second of their lives.

"What do you mean?" an identical voice to Angela's current one states, but this one coming from the other side of the male cop.

"Shit!" I hear the succubus curse under her breath. "Hurry," she adds, prodding me to go faster ahead of her.

"What the fuck?" someone else exclaims. "I didn't know you had a twin, Jenkins."

"I don't," the real Jenkins says, her tone confused. "What's she doing?"

"Run!" Angela yells, and I slip my hand out of the loose right cuff, and follow her advice.

"Stop them!" I hear Miranda yell behind us and double my speed. "Shoot them, dammit! Don't let them get away!"

No gunshots sound off, however, and we reach a door that is magnetically locked. Angela pulls out an ID card with the real Officer Jenkins's image on it, flashing it across the sensor, and opening the door.

The Orange Bubble is waiting just outside, running and with the doors open. We waste no time jumping into it, before commanding the Orange Bubble to get moving.

I rush to the back of my car, looking out the large window. Through the distortion of my magically modified car, I'm able to make out cops rushing out of the building, and looking around for us. They stop in consternation, unable to see where we went.

"Why didn't they shoot at us?" I ask the succubus as I head back to the front.