Soul Sucker Ch. 01-10

The first step was to take out the night watch. It was all too easy for me in the blackness of the night. I used my senses to locate them, then crept closer until I was in range. One hand over the mouth, a sword to the chest or neck, and hold them in place until their hearts stopped. It took me a few hours before the camp was defenseless.

I found casks of whale oil, and poured them onto the ships. After that, it only took one torch and a few minutes to set them all ablaze.

I was hiding in the darkness again as the flames shot up. Men raced out of the tents, some looking for the attackers, while others tried to put out the fires. Both groups were unsuccessful.

An hour later, the boats were useless. The sails burned easily, and the boats themselves burned to the waterlines. The raiders would go out at first light and find the bodies of their missing sentries.

The leader was beside himself, vowing to kill the men who did this. The raiders would go out at first light and find the bodies of their missing sentries. His bravado wouldn't lessen the effect my raid had on his men. I could scent the fear in the camp now, fear of an enemy that struck without warning and left without a trace.

I flew away to the deep forest before dawn, knowing that by nightfall their fear would reach a peak.

I returned the next night. The raiders had patrols out, in groups of three, but it was easy to evade them. I snuck into their tents instead, killing them in their bed furs. Others left their tents to relieve themselves, and never made it back. Six died the first night, four the second. Nothing they tried could stop me. I could fly past or creep through their patrols, I could immobilize with a bite almost instantly, or kill them even faster.

Each passing day, the survivors lived in fear of the monster they couldn't see. The tents moved closer together, the fires grew larger, but nothing stopped me.

It took me almost three weeks until the leader was the only male alive. I bit him, fucked him, and let the Demon harvest his soul.

My revenge was complete.

My servitude was just beginning.

Chapter 9

Ingrid Anderson (Frances Dortmund's) POV

Flatirons, near Denver, Colorado

Tuesday, August 9, 2022

"Almost there. There's a rock protrusion you can reach with your right hand if you stretch," my guide told me from the top of the cliff as he belayed me. "You need to trust your body and your training, Ingrid. As soon as you have two fingers on it, let go with your left and reach for the crack above it."

I reached behind me for the chalk bag and coated my right fingers with it. I'd only have one chance at this; the lean to get to the next handhold was too much. If I missed it or my fingers slipped off, I'd be bouncing at the end of the rope for the third time this afternoon.

I took a few deep breaths, focused on the small target, and stretched up and right. I got my index and ring finger over it, let go with my left, and pulled my body up so my left could reach the crack. With two anchor points I let my legs swing under me, turning the momentum into a lift. My right foot found a hold, and I pushed myself up a few more feet. My right hand reached for the top of the rock, and I pulled myself up and into a sitting position. "Finally!"

Carlos was smiling as he coiled the safety rope. He was a young kid working as a guide for Colorado Climbing Company while going to graduate school, and had been climbing at a high level for a decade. He'd been sneaking glances at my abs and butt all day but had kept it professional. "Nice job, Ingrid. You bagged your first 5.7 climb! I can't believe you've only been doing this for a few days. You're a natural."

"You're a good teacher, and I'm not afraid of hard work or failure." Lana and I were bouldering in the Flatirons with Carlos and another guide. Lana was on a 5.5 climb right now, as she hadn't picked up on climbing as fast.

"Still, that's the fastest progression I've seen on a beginner in my career. You keep this up, and you could be something special."

A little explanation might help. The Yosemite Decimal System (1-5) is used to rate backcountry hikes and climbs. The climbs are in subcategories of the 5^th category, numbered 5.1 through 5.15. Intermediate climbs have small footholds and handholds plus near-vertical terrain requiring beginner to intermediate rock climbing skills. These get numbers between 5.5 and 5.8. At 5.9 to 5.10, you're looking at vertical faces and maybe overhangs requiring advanced skills. My target is a dedicated weekend climber who regularly climbs 5.9's. 5.11 and above are where the experts hang out. I've been busting ass to get to the point I can be a decent intermediate climber, since I don't think a beginner will catch Landon Street's interest.

Having a 5.7 behind me puts me solidly in the intermediate category. Give it another week or two of climbing every day, and I'll be ready for him. "That last move was a bitch," I said.

"You're lucky you're tall. The shorter climbers have to leap for it, and that makes holding on to that little handhold difficult. Drink this," he said as he handed me a water bottle.

I drank down the water as I looked out over the cliff, enjoying the moment. "What is next? Do we try a harder route?"

"Nope. You rappel back down, and we do it again two or three more times. This time, I won't help you unless you ask for it. I expect you to finish a lot faster now that you know the route."

"Wonderful." The afternoon sun was still high, and the mountain air was fresh. This was a good moment for me, and my life needed more of these. I handed Carlos the empty bottle, set my gear, and rappelled back to the cliff base.

We only needed two more climbs before he was satisfied. "You have a choice," he told me from the top as we looked at the sun getting lower. "We can try a 5.8, or we can move to another 5.7."

"Do you think I'm ready for an eight?"

"No one is ready for their first eight. You've got the basic skills, but you need the confidence. You won't make it, but you'll figure out where you need to work."

"You'll help me through it?"

"For all the good it will do."

"Let's go. If I bag an eight, I'll bang you before the jeep picks us up."

Nothing like a little motivation. We moved about a hundred feet down to where the cliff face was vertical and he anchored the rope. I fell off the cliff three times, but I finally summited on the fourth try.

I was exhausted and horny. I practically attacked Carlos at the top, pushing him behind some rocks that would keep others from seeing us. "We shouldn't do this," he said as I reached for his belt.

"I shouldn't do a lot of things, but I need this," I replied. "You've never screwed on top of a cliff?"

"Only in camp," he confessed.

I pulled his shorts down to his ankles along with his underwear. "You can't tell anyone," I said before I took his cock in my mouth.

"No one would believe it," he replied. I didn't need my succubus powers after he'd watched me all day; a minute later, he was so hard a cat couldn't scratch it. He wasn't a porn star, but his six inches had decent girth and would do just fine to scratch my itch. I stood up, pulling my yoga shorts to my knees as I leaned over the rock. "Condom?"

"I'm safe," I told him. The demon's power kept me safe from venereal diseases and pregnancy, so I didn't care. He wasn't worried about himself, as he moved behind me and felt between my thighs. I was wet and ready for him. "Fuck me, Carlos. Fuck me hard."

"Yes, ma'am." I felt the tip of his cock rubbing against my slit, then he started to push inside slowly. Fuck that! I pushed back against him, moaning as I felt him bottom out. "Damn, you feel good," he told me.

I used my pussy muscles to squeeze him, working the groups so it felt like I was stroking it even though he wasn't moving. Then I squeezed tight as I slowly pulled forward before slamming my butt back against his hips again. "Your college girls know how to do that?"

"Hell no. Shit, I'm going to pop!" I pulled off him and spun around, dropping to my knees. I took him into my throat right away, my tongue reaching out to lick his pebbled sack. "Fuck! Here it comes!"

I backed off, taking his load in my mouth until I looked like a chipmunk. I knew what guys liked, and I needed him to recover quickly for the second round. When he finished, I opened my mouth, showed him, then swallowed it. "Damn. I'm sorry I didn't last, but you're SOOOO hot!"

"There's nothing to apologize for if you can get this hard again," I said. His youth and my oral skills soon had him back in business, and he pounded me good after that. I came several times as he rutted away. I felt the demon stir and shoved him back. This was for me, not him. He'd had his feeding last week, and Carlos was a good kid.

I didn't want to take any chances of killing him, so after one last orgasm, I dropped to my knees again and finished him off. The load wasn't as big, but I used a few tricks I'd learned to extend his orgasm until his knees buckled. He had to grab the rock to stay standing, and it took him a minute before he could think straight.

As for me? He was a decent fuck, and I'd enjoyed myself. I felt a little bad about it, because I'd ruined him for other women now. No matter how hot the girl, he'd wake up wondering why she couldn't fuck and suck like Ingrid could. I'd always be a fond memory for him. "Same time tomorrow?"

"I wasn't scheduled to work, but I'm sure as hell working if you're here," he told me as we pulled our clothes back on. "Damn. Thank you, Ingrid. That was unexpected and amazing."

"Keep it between us, and it might happen again," I told him. "The rush of conquering the climb makes me horny as hell."

"Good thing not many people are out here."

We grabbed our gear and walked towards the pickup point. Lana and her guide were waiting there. I could see blood on her cheek and right elbow. "How did you guys do?"

"I fell more than a baby learning to walk," Lana complained. "I bagged a 5.6, finally. I saw you climb that last one. Was that really a 5.8?"

"Yep," I smiled.

"She's really good," Carlos added. "Listens and picks up things fast."

"Maybe we should switch tomorrow," Lana's guide said.

"Nope," I said. "We work well together," I grinned slightly, "and I'm not changing horses in the middle of the race."

"I can tell," Lana said with a grin. "We can trade stories over dinner." The guide service dropped us back at our cars, and we ended up at a Mexican place nearby. "I'm so fucking sore," Lana complained after we ordered drinks.

"And I'm not even sore from fucking," I replied.

"You cheeky bitch! I can't believe you!"

I rolled my eyes. "It can't ALL be work," I told her. "The poor guy spend all day looking down my top, after all."

"And my instructor is gay. So, what now?"

"We train every day until I'm good enough to be on the same cliff as Landon. Probably a few weeks from now."

Lana rolled her shoulder. "I don't know if I'll survive that long. I don't have your advantages." It was a little unfair that I was stronger and healed quickly. I was fully recovered by the time I got to the jeep.

Lana had a little buzz on by the time we left, so I drove home. My succubus powers meant drugs and alcohol had almost no effect on my body. She headed off for shower and bed, while I went to the office to check in with Lonnie. He was at his desk, staring at a big computer screen. "How are things going," I asked my son as I kissed his head.

"We've got problems," he told me. "Remember the lawyer in Indiana that was handling the sale of the trucking company?"

"Yeah, Lana told me about him. Some insurance investigator from Manhattan Life called him yesterday with questions about the sale."

"He's looking at more than just Michael Petersen. I got a bunch of tripwire notifications yesterday and more this morning. The IP address is for Manhattan Life. He's searching the Web for information on two of your buried identities." He showed me the information. After we took out a husband and liquidated his assets, the identity we used would be retired. The money would be funneled through overseas accounts and companies, while the person ceased to exist. Why not kill them off? A death certificate brings probate, and we don't want that.

"Where do we sit on the life insurance claim for Michael?"

"Still pending. They have about a week to pay out or justify the delay."

That wasn't much time. "I'll let Lana know. We may have to keep the identity going for a while until things die down. A disappearance so soon after raising these flags wouldn't be good."

"I agree. Jordyn should make some public appearances. She should continue behave like a young widow who is liquidating his estate and moving."

I nodded. "Find out when the trucking company sale is closing and get me plane tickets. Fly me through Dallas and I'll change identities there so any trace doesn't come back to Denver."

He nodded. "I'll take care of it."

"Thanks, baby. Don't stay up too late." I walked to my room, thinking of how I could handle this.

If that investigator got too close, my demon and I might have to pay him a visit.

Chapter 10

John Miller's POV

Train, Manhattan to Newark

Tuesday, August 9, 2022

"You mean they freakin' disappeared without a trace?" My boss leaned forward in his chair and turned to look at me.

"That's exactly what I mean, Terry, and it's not just us. I asked around with the other investigators and found two more cases in 2016 and 2008. Big policies, deaths on the honeymoon or soon after, and within a year the woman disappears without a trace."

"People don't just disappear, John. You know that. There's always something."

"It's more than that. If you trace their activity the other way, you don't find what you expect. I think the reason they disappear is that they never really existed at all, not in the name they used."

"What do you mean?"

I laid it out. "These people had driver's licenses. Passports. Degrees. Homes. Bank accounts. All the things they needed to marry the guy and get the policies. If you go to the college or social media from that time, they aren't there. No sports teams, no Facebook or Instagram posts tagging them, no sorority sisters. I made some calls to Jordyn's professors and the case from San Francisco five years ago. The students were online-only, never met in person with the professors, and never sought additional instruction. They are ghosts."

"They were real enough to fall in love and get married," Terry objected.

"I'm just saying that it's more likely the person was an alias than a real person," I replied. "And whoever did it spent a lot of time and money to build up the persona. The birth certificates and Social Security numbers wer e issued at birth."

He was skeptical. "People assume identities from other people all the time. Keep looking and you'll probably find a death certificate from someone who died soon after."

"Trust me, I looked for that."

He leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes for a moment to think about it. "Could it be Witness Protection? Or could they be working for the Government in some capacity? They'd have the ability to gin up a history like that."

I shook my head. "If Jordyn is in Witsec, why have such a public wedding and funeral? Her face is all over the papers in Indianapolis. A decent facial recognition program would figure it out. No, if they were hiding for another reason, this would all be done on the quiet."

"And Jordyn's background is just as thin?"

"Yes."

"Could she be the same person from one of the other cases?"

I shook my head, no. "That was the first thing I thought of. Jordyn is only twenty-five years old, so she couldn't have been involved in the ones older than seven years. I ran the wives through a facial recognition comparison, and they aren't the same."

"Plastic surgery?"

"It can't change certain characteristics of the software, and it can't make your four inches taller or shorter. The only thing I am certain of is that they aren't the same women."

"There has to be some connection between these women. If it isn't the women, it's someone helping the women."

"What do you want me to do, boss?"

He thought about it for a minute. "Turn over the information from the previous cases to the FBI and IRS. Identity fraud, wire fraud, and tax evasion are all in play. They've got the resources to pull the strings on the identities. We'll need the IRS and their forensic accountants to trace the money back to the owners. If we can get a conviction, we can sue to get the policy benefit returned. That's the only interest I have in the older cases. Once we settle, it is very difficult to open them up again."

"I can do that tomorrow."

"I have some contacts in the local FBI, but you'll need to walk it into the IRS. Good luck with that."

Yeah, that would be fun. Paperwork, waiting in government offices, and convincing agents that a crime was committed requiring them to investigate. "What about Jordyn Carter?"

"Keep digging. Put a private investigator on her and see what turns up. From what you told me, she's already liquidating. I don't want her to get the ten million and disappear into thin air."

"Got it," I replied. I had a lot of work to do, and not much time to do it. "I should probably go home and get some rest so I can get started early in the morning."

"Yeah, nah," he said as he elbowed me. "If you think I'm letting you out of Cathy's big plan for a work-related task, you're crazy. You're going to have a good time tonight or else."

"Or else what?"

"You don't want to know."

"Sure, I do."

He got this uncomfortable look before responding. "The Wrath of Cath is something to behold, remember?"

"The last time she blew up at me I was a drunk bastard," I replied. "I deserved it."

"Yeah, well, now she's got her minions to help out. Mini-me's, all of them!"

"You poor guy," I told him. "You could have stopped after two instead of trying for the softball team."

"Cathy is devout Irish Catholic, so that's a non-starter. So is saying 'no' when she wants sex. I'm only so strong, you know."

"It works for you. Now, what can you tell me about my blind date?"

He let out a breath. "Mary is a member of our church and is a real estate agent in town. Widowed, lost her husband in Afghanistan six years ago. He was a helicopter pilot, and his bird was shot down over Kandahar." Jesus. "It was right after we moved here, and it hit her hard. I think Cathy is pushing her back into the dating pool before she gets too old. She has one daughter who is about ten now."

"Terry, I'm not interested in dating, much less marriage and an instant family."

"It's one evening, John. Relax, have fun, and be polite. It doesn't have to work like Cathy hopes it will." I nodded at that. "Of course, if it does, I won't complain. We could hang out on the train rides into town."

"I'll be nice," I told him. We arrived at his house at 6:30. Cathy fussed over me before sending me to the guest room to change. She was wearing a suit and a coverup, and I came out wearing board shorts and a UFC T-shirt. Terry changed and got the grill going. "Thanks for having me over," I said as we returned to the kitchen.

"I'm just glad Terry was able to get you to come without needing my more creative threats," Cathy said with a laugh. "Our fourth will be here any minute. Here." She handed me a tray of marinated and seasoned stakes. "Take these out to Terry, but tell him not to put them on until Mary arrives. I don't know how she likes hers cooked."

"Sure thing." I walked out of the kitchen and through the sliding door in the back of the dining room. He had a nice setup out back; the pool had a waterslide for the kids, and a small hot tub near the main bedroom door. He had a 70" television mounted under the eaves, with a Plexiglas panel to protect it from rain and snow. The speakers were off, and the pregame show for the Red Sox was on. The pool took up their entire backyard.