Happy Medium: (Intermix) (20 page)

Succubi have a talent for locating weaknesses.

“Your hooks, you mean.” His jaw tightened again, remembering Livingston Grunewald, old and broken, come back to this room. Searching for what he could never have again.

“Once you experience that kind of ecstasy, you’ll never forget it. Nor will you want to.” She dropped her fingers to the pearl buttons on the front of her gown, slipping them loose so that the bodice fell to her waist. Her breasts glowed white in the gathering darkness, tipped in rose. She pulled her hair loose from the braid, then moved her head, shaking the golden curls so that they fell over her naked shoulders in shining waves. “She was very beautiful,” she murmured. “After she became mine, she was very skillful as well. I can promise that you’ve never experienced anything like what she could do for you.”

“Except you’re not her,” he snapped. “She’s a corpse and you’re an illusion.”

“An illusion?” Her lips edged up again. “If I’m an illusion, why are you still cowering on the other side of the door? Why are you so afraid of me?” She pushed her hands down again and the dress fell to the floor, baring her long legs, the fullness of her hips, the nest of golden hair at the joining of her thighs. She reached a hand toward him. “Touch me. I’ll show you I’m no illusion.”

He held himself still on the other side of the doorway. “No, thanks.”

“Are you afraid you’re not strong enough to satisfy me? To satisfy her?” She ran her hands along the sides of her body, rubbing her thumbs across her nipples to make them peak.

Ray was fairly certain he’d never be able to satisfy her—nobody could. And he’d die trying. Fortunately, he’d never seen a woman he wanted less than the semblance of Amina Becker who stood in front of him. “I’m not Livingston Grunewald. I don’t want you. If that’s all you need to know, I can tell you that.”

“Really?” One golden eyebrow arched up. “Perhaps you don’t find her desirable.”

“Perhaps I don’t. Or you either.”

“That can be dealt with.” Her face began to shimmer, becoming indistinct, like a picture going out of focus, then her hair, her body.

He watched, transfixed, as the body changed its shape, the hips becoming slimmer, the breasts less full. Her hair shortened, became a mop of red curls. Her skin lightened, milky white.

His pulse sped up again. “Stop it.”

The face began to gain shape, the nose becoming narrower, auburn eyebrows, full lips. And then the eyes, sky blue. Sapphire.

Emma stood in front of him, skin slightly flushed, a fading blush at the cheekbones.

He held onto the sides of the door so tightly his fingers felt numb. “You’re not her.”

“But I could be,” the succubus murmured. “I could be just like her, only I would know things she doesn’t know. She’s so inexperienced, poor thing. Like Amina in a way. And so . . . uncertain. With me, you could have her do things she’s never done for you, things she never could do. And she’d be willing. So willing. So eager.”

The lips, so unnervingly like Emma’s, moved up into a slightly feline smile. “Fuck me, Ray,” Emma’s voice said. “Do it from behind. I’ve never done it that way before, but I want you to do it to me now. I’ll suck your cock, and I’ll do it right this time. You can come in my mouth—I’ll swallow it all, I promise.”

His stomach tightened. He tasted bile in his throat. Emma’s eyes shining, Emma’s lips moving. Emma’s voice saying words he didn’t want to hear. He needed to turn away, but that would mean the succubus had won.

“You can come on my breasts,” she cooed, “or my face, I don’t care, whatever you want. However you want. I want you to tie me up and then fuck me blind. I want you to do things you’ve only heard about—blindfolds and gags, nipple clamps and riding crops. Whipping posts. All of it. I want you to do all of it to me. I’ll come for you whatever you do. However you want to do it. And you’ll come too. I promise. Like you’ve never come before.”

He tightened his jaw for a moment, staring at her sky blue eyes. Her empty sky blue eyes.

“Watch me,” she whispered. “Just watch me now.” Her fingers dropped to her sex, parting the lips, plunging inside. “Watch me come.”

“It’s not her body,” he blurted.

The succubus paused, blue eyes staring. “What?”

“It’s not her body. You got the body wrong.”

“What does it matter?” she snarled, her voice no longer Emma’s. “It’s her face. It’s her voice. She’s asking you to do things the real woman couldn’t ask for. Things she can’t do for you. This body is better than hers. You can do anything you want to it, and she’ll beg for more.” She cupped the breasts that weren’t Emma’s, opening those empty blue eyes wide.

He shook his head. “That’s not what I want.”

“Tell me what you want,” Emma’s voice crooned again. “Just tell me what you want. And I’ll do it.”

“I want the real Emma any way she’ll have me. Missionary position in total darkness is fine. What I don’t want is you, a miserably unconvincing puppet.” He turned his back on her and walked deeper into the bedroom.

“Coward,” she snarled, her voice rising. “Coward. You’re afraid to see what you want, how it might feel for you. You’re afraid to take what you need.”

“Actually, I’m done with this.” He stooped over his workspace, gathering up a handful of nails. “Give it up, demon. You’re not getting me this way.”

She backed away from the door, Emma’s mouth curving up in a mocking smile. “Nails? Really? You think nails can stop me?”

“They may not stop you, but I’ll bet they sting.”

He paused in mid-stride. Somewhere downstairs he heard a sound. The front door opening.

The succubus narrowed her eyes, her form already becoming blurred.

“Ray?” Emma’s voice sounded up the stairs. “I saw your truck outside. Are you still here? The delivery got rescheduled until tomorrow.”

For a moment, he saw Amina Becker’s face again, her expression triumphant. And then she was gone, melting into the darkness.

“Emma,” Ray cried. “Sweet Jesus, Emma, no. Get away from here.” He headed for the stairs, wondering if he could actually jump down from the top without killing himself.

Chapter 19

Emma stared up into the gathering darkness at the top of the stairs. She really didn’t like this place. It looked creepier than usual in the lengthening twilight, maybe because of the shadows in the corners. She didn’t often come to the house this late in the afternoon. Neither did Ray. Maybe he’d just left his truck for some reason. If he wasn’t here, she could take off for Rosie’s place. “Ray?” she called. “I saw your truck outside. Are you still here? The delivery got rescheduled until tomorrow.”

A board creaked overhead. Her hand flew to her throat. Probably just Ray coming to the head of the stairs. She stayed where she was, gazing up into the darkness. “Ray? Are you there?”

“Emma.”

She turned quickly, peering into the shadows behind her. He stood in the doorway to the dining room, his face in deep shadow so that she could only see the silhouette of his body. “Ray?”

“Emma. Baby.”

Baby?
That was new. She narrowed her eyes, trying to see him better in the dim light. He reached toward her, and she found herself moving back slightly. Something about his voice didn’t sound right. And he moved . . . not like he usually did.

“Baby. Babe.” He moved forward again.

She made herself stand still, fighting down the impulse to run. It was just Ray. No reason to feel this nervous. She could see his face now in the twilight—dark eyes, sandy hair, faintly mocking smile. She licked her lips. She’d never seen him smile like that before. “I . . . um . . . are you okay?”

“Sure.” His hand came toward her again as something crashed above them. Somewhere overhead she heard movement, the sound of footsteps running down the stairs.

Running down the stairs?
Who else was here?

Emma jumped back, grabbing the banister. “What was that?”

Ray stared upward, baring his teeth in a snarl.

“Get away from her,” someone yelled from the stairway. “Don’t touch her, you bitch.”

Emma blinked. Footsteps racketed down the stairs behind her.

Ray reached toward her again, but she jerked away from his fingers. Something about that snarl was very wrong. “No, don’t.”

“Emma, get back!” The voice came from just above her this time. Ray’s voice. Only Ray was in front of her, reaching for her. She shrank back, pulling herself away from him as her shoulders struck the wall behind her.

The Ray standing in front of her smiled again, that same mocking smile she’d never seen before, as he raised his hand to grasp her wrist.
Not Ray. Definitely not Ray.
She jerked as far away as she could.

“No!”

Someone plunged by her, a dark shape that was probably a man, although she wasn’t entirely sure. She shrank further away, sliding along the wall toward the corner under the stairs.

The Ray who wasn’t Ray tried again to grab hold of her, but the other man brought his hand down hard on the phony Ray’s wrist.

The anti-Ray cried out, a mixture of fury and pain. Emma peered at him through the shadows, trying to move out of his range.

His expression flickered for a moment, like a bad cable transmission in a rainstorm. Then his face seemed to melt, becoming transparent, almost flaking off in the gathering dusk.

Emma clasped her hand against her throat, biting her lip, trying hard not to whimper as she watched the Ray who wasn’t Ray change slowly to another face that she dimly recognized. A woman. Blonde hair. Dark eyes. Figure with curves like Emma had once had, twenty pounds or so ago.

Not Ray. Definitely not Ray.

And then she/he/it was gone. Emma pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to slow down her breathing. For a moment, she felt as if she might faint. Then she felt as if she might throw up. She bent over at the waist, taking slow deep breaths, her heart hammering against her breastbone.

Someone touched her shoulder and she jumped away, bringing her hands up to defend herself.

“Emma, sweetheart, Emma are you all right?”

Ray’s voice, Ray’s hands on her shoulders, Ray’s eyes staring down at her. The real Ray this time.

She fell against him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she pressed her face to his chest. “God, my God, what was that?”

“Outside. Come on.” He pulled her out from under the stairs, across the hall, out the front door, pausing only for a moment to lock it behind them. Then he grabbed her again, his arms tight around her shoulders, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Did she touch you? Did she hurt you? Are you all right? Jesus Christ, I thought I’d never get down there in time.”

“I’m . . . no, she didn’t touch me. I’m okay. Sort of.” She closed her eyes, leaning against him again, trying to catch her breath. “What was that? What happened?”

“That was a succubus. She was trying to touch you, to take you. Jesus, Emma.” He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. “I’ve never been that scared in my life. I didn’t know if I’d get there in time to stop her.”

The number of questions suddenly dancing around in her brain almost made her dizzy. “How did you stop her? I couldn’t see.”

“With these.” He pulled a handful of nails out of his pocket. “Iron. It’s a kind of ghost repellant. I stabbed her in the wrist with them.”

“Did you touch her, then? Did she touch you? Are you all right?”

He shook his head. “I’m okay. I didn’t touch her, just the nails.”

“Is she gone now?”

He shook his head again. “I doubt it. I don’t think that would destroy her. I think I just drove her off this time. My guess is she’s still in there, but I’m sure as hell not going back to find out.”

She leaned against him for another long moment, letting her heart rate drop to some semblance of normal, before she tilted her head back to look at his face. “You know I’ve got a lot of questions, right?”

He nodded. “Right. We need to talk. There are things I should have told you before this, things I only just found out. But I really want to get away from here before I do. Okay?”

“Okay.” She took one more deep breath. “Could we go to a bar or something? I think I really need a margarita.”

He nodded again. “Definitely. I think we both do.”

***

Fortunately, they found a table outside at their usual restaurant in the Blue Star Complex. Ray hadn’t had time yet to shower off the dust and sweat from the afternoon spent prying off wallboard, so he figured he probably wasn’t fit to sit in the dining room.

Plus he didn’t feel as if he could talk about the succubus inside the restaurant. He definitely didn’t want anyone overhearing his explanation since that could lead to rumors about him or the house he still needed to sell. He ordered a margarita for Emma and a beer for himself, then leaned back in his chair as the waiter headed toward the kitchen.

Emma’s face was pale in the evening shadows, but he had a feeling it would have been pale no matter where he saw her. He gritted his teeth. If he’d told her about Skag and the succubus, would it have made any difference? Could he have stopped it by being honest? She might have been more wary, but then again the succubus could assume anyone’s shape. Maybe the imitation wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough for most people.

Emma picked up her margarita as soon as it was placed before her, taking a long swallow. “You’d better tell me the whole thing,” she said quietly. “I don’t want you to approach this bit by bit. I don’t think I could stand it.”

He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, feeling grit and wishing he’d taken the time for that shower after all. “I have a source,” he began.

“A person?” Emma’s eyebrow went up.

“A source,” he repeated. “He’s supernatural, I guess you’d say. So no, not a person.”

At least she didn’t run screaming. “Are you a medium too, like your grandmother?”

“No. Not exactly, anyway. I mean, I never knew anything about the Riordans before all this happened, about them being mediums. And my mom is as normal as anybody else, or I always thought she was.” He sighed, taking a quick swallow of his beer. “But it turns out the Riordans have these . . . powers. And I may have them too. Some of them, anyway.”

She sipped her margarita. “Did you reach this source because of your powers?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t think he could have talked to me otherwise. He approached me, not the other way around.” He really hoped he could avoid outing Rosie over this, but he would if he had to. If he needed to keep Emma safe.

“Okay.” She placed her glass on the table in front of her. “What did he tell you?”

“He said the ghost in the Hampton house is a succubus. That’s sort of a demon that’s into sex.” He raised his own glass—talking about this stuff was a hell of a lot harder than he’d thought it would be.

“I’ve heard of succubi before,” she said slowly. “They’re in the Bible. I think Lilith is supposed to be one—or anyway that’s one of the legends.”

“Lilith?” He frowned. “Who’s that?”

“Adam’s first wife.” She shook her head. “Probably not relevant in this case.”

“Probably not.” He took another swallow of beer. “According to my source, succubi draw energy from sex. They can have sex directly or that can have it via a surrogate—someone they possess. They suck energy from the person they’re possessing and from the person they’re having sex with, and neither person can prevent it. They’ve been known to kill their partners, to draw all their energy—their life force—away.”

If it was possible for Emma to get paler, it had just happened. He leaned forward, grasping her hand. “It’s okay, Emma. She’s only powerful at night. During the day, the one in the Hampton house can’t do much besides slamming doors and throwing things around. We weren’t in danger when we were there before.”

“The person I saw—the thing I saw—was a man,” Emma said softly. “It had your face. How can it be both male and female?”

“It’s a shape shifter. It can take on anyone’s appearance, and it may not have any real gender. But the reproduction of the shape’s not flawless. If you look carefully, you can tell that it’s not right.”

“So you’ve seen it . . . up close?” Her eyes widened. “Who did it look like with you?”

He blew out a breath. She needed to know. “You. And Amina Becker. Or anyway she looked like that picture that we thought was Amina.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then shook her head. “I knew it wasn’t you. Not really. Not after the first few moments. But then, after you hit her with the nails, she had Amina Becker’s face for a second. Does that mean Amina was a succubus?”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “No, I don’t think so. Not at first, anyway. Amina called the succubus up, but then she lost control. The succubus took her over. At least I think that’s how it works.” He’d have to ask Skag. Assuming Skag ever deigned to show up again.

Emma stared down at the table. “How do you know all of this? Did your source tell you?”

“No. She did. The succubus.” His fingers tightened on the beer stein. He’d have to be careful or he’d end up ordering too many.

Emma’s eyes were huge in the darkness. “You spoke to her? When?”

“Tonight. I was inside the warded room and she . . . appeared in the hall outside. She was trying to get me to come out to her, or invite her in with me. She’s very sure of herself, very confident that she’s smarter than we are. That may be a way to get at her eventually . . . or it’s worth thinking about, anyway.”

Emma drew a slightly shaky breath. “Did she hurt you?”

He shook his head. “As long as I stayed inside the wards, I was safe. And I had no interest in joining her outside, believe me.” He shuddered. Given his choice, he didn’t think he’d tell Emma what the ghost had said when she’d pretended to be her. Given his choice, he’d prefer to forget all about it himself.

Succubi have a talent for locating weaknesses, particularly when those weaknesses are related to sex.
What did it say about him that the succubus had fastened on Emma?

“About Amina, what did the succubus tell you?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “I don’t know how much of it was true. It’s worth remembering that. She said Amina was afraid of losing Livingston Grunewald—God only knows why since he seems to have been a prime shit. Somehow she managed to invoke the succubus to help her hold on to him.”

“The bad medium,” Emma cut in. “That’s why she went to that bad medium. For some kind of charm that would make him stay with her. Maybe the charm let the succubus loose.”

“Maybe.” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, once the succubus got hold of Amina, the sex with Livingston got really good, at least from the succubus’s point of view. And Livingston got scared.”

Emma frowned. “Scared of what? Sounds like he was getting what he wanted.”

“Maybe he was at first, but then he ran into problems. His father wanted him to kick Amina out, but she had him by the short hairs, more or less.” He moved his shoulders, trying to get rid of the tension. “Livingston couldn’t stop wanting her, wanting to have sex with her. Part of the succubus effect.”

“So?” Emma shrugged. “He just takes Amina and heads off down the road. I still don’t see the problem.”

“I’d say the problem was, as I said before, Livingston was a prime shit.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “He wanted loose. He probably didn’t like the idea that she was in control, that he couldn’t shake free of her. And he was an idiot without a conscience. So he killed her.”

Emma started so abruptly she almost knocked over her margarita. After a moment, she pushed it a little further away, then rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “Amina? He killed her? She didn’t commit suicide?”

He shook his head. “Not according to the succubus, who was in a position to know. I guess he thought the only way to free himself from her was to kill her. So he did.”

Emma closed her eyes. “That’s . . . really horrible. Poor Amina.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “We’ve got to get rid of that . . . thing. We can’t let it take over anybody else.”

“Oh God.” Emma pressed her fingers to her lips, frowning. “Gabrielle. The séance. If she’s there at night . . .”

“The succubus will go after her. Or us. Or someone else on the crew. It’s looking for someone to possess. Maybe it needs to take hold of someone to keep going. I mean, it draws on energy, and there hasn’t been much of that in the house lately.”