SC - The Succubus Job

In the present, the effect was no less dramatic. Tanie tensed, and slowly looked up. Her brown eyes were glowing with a dim white light. It was her turn to have her mind held hostage, while Bluebell and Ordan waited a few more moments for the spell to take hold completely.

Ordan attempted to speak, but could barely croak out the words, "What's your name? Your full name."

Tanie didn't respond. She wasn't resisting the magic, she just hadn't heard him. Ordan looked at Bluebell, ironically and stiffly bowed despite his pain, gesturing at the trapped Succubus. Bluebell momentarily looked at him in annoyance, but cleared her throat.

"Very well, I'll do the talking. Full name?"

Tanie responded sluggishly, the words being pulled from her tongue against her will.

"Tanie, Daughter of Dareen."

"Why did you kill Mr. Aglat?"

"I didn't."

Bluebell raised an eyebrow, glancing at Ordan. He shrugged.

She continued, "Why did you attack my partner?"

"He implied he was working for... someone. I hadn't gotten that far."

"You left me in here too fucking long." Ordan hissed at Bluebell, his voice regaining some of its prior clarity.

Bluebell ignored him. He was always complaining about something.

"What happened to Mr. Aglat?"

Bluebell and Ordan were both surprised to see a tear roll down the Succubus cheek. Under the influence of the truth amulet, that could not be faked. She sobbed pitifully, her one tear rolling down to join the ice pinning her to the wall.

"He was just so... so stupid!" she sobbed, "So nice, but too stupid to tie his own shoelaces. Literally! They caught on the stairs outside as he tried to go down, and..."

"And no one else saw this happen?" Bluebell asked.

"It was late. He was my last for the night. Now I'll have to move, if you don't kill me now."

Bluebell and Ordan left her to their misery as they moved to the far corner of the small apartment.

Ordan, calmer now, sighed, "She's telling the truth. She can't not tell the truth."

Bluebell nodded. Her Sight was far more practiced and sensitive than Ordan's. She knew the amulet was working as intended.

"We'll leave her alone." she said simply.

Ordan replied, "You know we can't do that. We need to be seen to be doing something, and she'll be safer if she gets relocated to another part of the city. We walk out of here with nothing to show, the locals will get suspicious."

Bluebell complained, "Fine, but I'm not handling the paperwork."

Ordan pointed at his bruised throat.

"Yes you are."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

---

Tanie, Daughter of Dareen was delivered to the authorities, and the necessary reports were made. Altogether, it could have gone much worse for her, and she was given the option to relocate to another part of the city, or even some other city, if she liked.

She chose to move south, to the city built on a lake. Despite its dangers, there were tales of a place in that city called "The Pink Zone", and she was intrigued.

Ordan was ordered to the infirmary, where a member of the Healer Corps looked him over, gave him herbs and slow-acting potions, and ordered him to bed. He stayed in the infirmary overnight for observation, and slept the peaceful, dreamless sleep of the heavily-drugged.

It was nights like this that made Ordan think that his eventual death might be a nice change of pace, though he was in no hurry.

Ordan woke to see Bluebell in a chair beside his infirmary cot, staring resolutely at the wall. She did that when she was thinking hard. They were alone in a room that had many cots side by side, separated by curtains that had not been drawn. With no one else there, there was little need for the illusion of privacy.

The white walls reflected the golden morning light, the air smelled of industrial-strength antiseptic, and Ordan breathed it all in like he'd never smelled anything so sweet. He rolled onto his back, and slowly sat up.

Bluebell took notice, "Should you be doing that?"

"No healers have come in to yell at me yet." he smiled, "I feel fine, thanks for asking. Have you been here long?"

She had changed into the new working dress she'd bought the day before, and looked clean and refreshed.

"I stayed in the accommodations here at the Hall. I did the paperwork. I owed you that, at least."

Ordan was relieved, and worried at the same time. He was glad he didn't have to cramp up his hand writing down everything that had happened, but Bluebell had a habit of being meticulous and painstakingly accurate in her reports. There were details of the last night he rather hoped wouldn't be made a matter of record.

In a rare moment of social awareness, Bluebell had anticipated this.

"I kept certain details vague. Officially, we both confronted her at once, and she moved so fast I couldn't cast my ice trap before she tackled you."

Ordan moved backward, sitting up against the wall, and relaxed completely.

"Well, I officially thank you for saving me anyway."

Bluebell looked bothered.

"What is it?" asked Ordan.

"It was The Old Man, that is... she of the capital letters. She intimated to me that if I'd left you alone with the Succubus like the last time, allowed you to get hurt out of some misguided sense of charity... she'd kill me herself."

"Ah." said Ordan, quietly. "Well then it's a good thing you never, ever did that."

Bluebell nodded solemnly.

"The old man, the drunk one we met yesterday, came by the Hall this morning. He said he'd looked for us at the Hall of Heroes, but came here when he didn't find us there."

Ordan raised his eyebrows. "Is he that desperate to date a Hero? Does he want to die before his time?"

Bluebell smiled only a little.

"The opposite, actually. He thanked us for making his 'favorite neighborhood' safer, and brought gifts. He says we've 'done some good in this world'. His exact words."

She reached down into a bag, and brought out a large clay jug, Even with the stopper firmly in place, Ordan could smell the spirits.

"What is that, exactly? He smelled just like that."

"His name is Alegand Gomes, and he owns the distillery that makes this rotgut. Seems he enjoys his own product. "

Ordan chuckled, and winced again at the smell.

"I'm sure I can find some use for it. I do have a drain that needs unclogging. But there's something I need to ask you."

Bluebell looked at him quizzically.

"If you had left me in there, why would you have done that? What did you mean by a 'misguided sense of charity'?"

She shrugged, not showing even a hint of shame.

"You needed it."

He spluttered incredulously. "I needed to be half tickled to death, then choked by a succubus?"

"No! You're young, you haven't had a girl in two years. I can practically see your blue balls with my Sight."

He reddened with both embarrassment and rage.

"That's it! You know how I've been letting you slack off with your social education?"

Her eyes widened in horror.

"That ends now. I'll be coming over to your house for a week. Every day. We will have tea, and we will make SMALL TALK. You will look out your window, then come back and tell me all about the weather, and..."

"I'll kill you first!" she hissed.

They spent the rest of the day happily squabbling; for a precious moment in time, they left saving the city to someone else.

---

Notes on Succubi and Incubi:

On the world known as the Accident, Succubi and Incubi survive by absorbing the magical energies produced by living, sentient beings. They can absorb the actual life force of said beings directly, but they usually don't bother. Those who do usually break out in a rash of pitchforks and torches.

They often take on the roles of prostitutes and courtesans because this provides them access to a steady supply of magical energy. The mere potential for life that results from intercourse carries a power all its own. So do rituals, and the act of handing over currency in exchange for sex is a ritual as old as monkeys with too many peanuts on their hands.

They can take additional power from the symbolism inherent in individual sexual acts, and the emotions of lust and passion generated by sentient minds. What's more, the energy required to dominate the average sentient mind is minimal. Any mother can do it; magic just makes it easier.

This creates a feedback loop where the investment of energy required to survive is almost insignificant compared to the return. Succubi and Incubi who live long enough, and invest wisely, have been known to ascend to godhood.

---

Note from the author:

This is only the second short story of my own that I've ever finished, and the first I've written in over ten years. I hope you enjoyed it, and I would encourage you to leave your feedback, good or bad.

Who knows? I might even listen.