Succubated!

John Hayes adjusted his shirt collar. It had long points, which had come into fashion some time in the last several years—the years he’d spent wearing priest’s collars and vestments. The shirt was a dark black button-down, made of crisp cotton, worn over dark gray slacks. The ensemble made him feel overdressed—but this was Manhattan. Even at midmorning on a weekday, most of the men meeting their girlfriends at brunch wore something smart.

He remembered the last time he’d met Micki here for breakfast; he hadn’t thought he looked out of place back then, in tan khakis and a polo. Micki had worn a black shrug top and blue jeans, looking cool even though anyone without demonic blood would have sweated in the sun. Their relationship had been new, and John’s feelings for her had been blooming into full flower.

This time, he’d wanted to dress up a little. He and Micki—or Una, he could never decide which he should call her—had promised each other this date. And they’d made that promise in a life-or-death situation, while investigating the Vatican’s black site upstate. So he wanted to make good, starting with a morning at an expensive French cafe at the north end of the West Village.

But a special occasion meant a fresh shirt and new pants. Stiff, and slightly itchy in places, but John thought they fit well. He checked himself out in the window glass. Nobody would take him for a priest, at least. The shirt was a little tight, but it tapered nicely from shoulders to waist, highlighting his broad frame and solid abs. He hoped Micki would appreciate the effect.

He looked around. With the morning rush over, only a few patrons remained. An older Asian man sipped espresso in the corner and a white girl in a blue dress sat at a table outside. The only occupied table had a professionally clad couple preoccupied with their mobile devices. He noticed the barista, an elegant young woman with a blond pixie cut, looking at him with curious interest.

“Hi,” he said. “Have you seen a woman with—” Oh, Lord. How do I put this? Horns? A tail? No, you dummy… “She’d be wearing red makeup, or body paint? And she could be wearing an overcoat or hat.” With an inward cringe, John realized how ridiculous that sounded; based on Una’s attempts to avoid unwanted attention, it was the best description he could think of.

The barista’s brown eyes widened. “Um, no, sorry. If she comes in, you can sit anywhere except at that table outside, okay?” John thanked her and consulted his phone to read the latest text again.

> Here! ♥️ Sitting outside, see you soon.

He hadn’t seen Una in a few days; they’d texted after that strange shared dream, but she hadn’t come by the Haven to help, as had become her habit. Yesterday, he’d heard from Monsignor Albert that she’d paid him an unexpected visit. The notoriously tight-lipped senior priest hadn’t given John any details. He wanted to see Una out of curiosity about what was going on nearly as badly as he wanted to hold her in his arms.

John wandered back outside, shading his eyes and looking around. No sign of Una; only the woman in the blue dress, tapping at her cell. She glanced up at him and smiled, then resumed typing.

His phone chimed with another message.

> Right in front of you, Father Hayes.

John looked around in confusion, then back at the girl in the blue dress. She was young, maybe a college student or a little older, but with pleasing curves. She had the same sort of haircut as Micki sported, with sleek black wings of hair on either side of her pretty face and—and she was staring right at him, he realized, with a bemused expression.

John walked over. “Excuse me…” he began. He was unsure how to continue. “Do I know you? You remind me of someone I know.”

The girl raised a finely arched eyebrow at him, tilting her head. “Do I really, John? Who’s that?” Her smile was impish, and her voice was unmistakable—hers, but slightly different, mellow and clear.

“Micki?” He closed his mouth. “How did you—you changed again?”

She looked sheepish for a moment, then gestured at herself grandly. “Surprise? I, uh… hope you like it? I was trying to unlock my shapeshifting abilities, but now I’m stuck like this.”

John stared. “Holy shit. I mean, wow. Sorry, I’m just startled. The last time, when you became Una, Susan warned us you might keep changing, and back then I figured you’d end up looking more like… you know. Yael? I didn’t expect this.”

Una rose and stretched, pushing her shoulders back. She’d gotten shorter by a couple inches, he realized, which made her seem younger and curvier, her skirt settling over womanly hips. Her features were like Micki’s, but subtly altered: her face a little rounder, cheekbones softer, lips fuller, and her nose smaller and perkier.

She noticed him looking. “It’s good to see you too, Mr. Hayes. Nice threads, by the way.” She stepped closer and reached out to adjust his collar, standing on tiptoe and fixing her gaze on his big brown eyes. “You didn’t get all dressed up for me, did you?”

“I might have.” She smelled the same, he thought, that delicious smell of spices and musk, a scent that stirred his body to life. “It really is good. You look… damn good.” And then he let her pull him down into a kiss. It was tender, a sweet hello after several days apart. Una pulled away with a slight frown.

“What’s the matter, John? Something’s bugging you.” A slight pout had appeared on her girlish face.

“Sorry. I’m glad to see you, I swear. It’s just—why didn’t you tell me you’d changed again?”

She led him by the hand to the table. “You’re right, as usual, of course. I guess I feel awkward about it all sometimes, excited but unsure? But really, I probably wanted to surprise and shock you. That’s probably the Yael side coming through. Sorry.”

A shiver passed through Father John Hayes; no matter how human she looked now, Una still bore the essence of the ancient succubus inside her. He shook off the feeling. “No worries. It was a brilliant surprise.”

They sat opposite each other at the small ironwork bistro table; John waved to the barista. Una ordered a cup of Darjeeling tea and a croque-madame, while John got a cappuccino with extra foam and a croissant. While they waited for their food, Una filled him in on the last few days.

John shook his head. “You sure it was a good idea to let Sigma use you like a guinea pig? I thought you’d had enough of that after, you know…” He jerked his thumb northwards, towards the Hudson River and the Catskill mountains beyond.

“It was reckless, sure.” Una’s finger traced the edge of her teacup. “But Jay’s hardly a megalomaniacal Vatican exorcist. I learned every detail I could comprehend and decided of my own free will. Now, if I could just figure out to use the damn things, I could have actual power…” She flexed her hand, frowning.

John leaned forward. “Power? That sounds like her talking, too. How do you intend to use it? Or… what does she want with it?”

Una shook her head. “It’s not like that. She’s… I don’t know how to describe it. Sleepy, peaceful inside me, hard to get answers out of, but mostly content to let me drive. Like I have a big cat curled up on my chest.” She giggled, and the girlish quality surprised John. “You look like you’re about to tell me that power comes with great responsibility.”

He struck a pose, hand on chin. “I’ve always considered myself the hot uncle type, full of good advice. Watch yourself, young blood.”

Una nodded demurely. “Yes, Uncle John.” She said it so innocently, but the tone of her voice had honey and razors mixed in. John cleared his throat, trying not to blush. She gave him a smirk.

“Really though,” she said. “I just want some control over my life, and I want to protect you, Susan, Maria, everyone. Monsignor Albert says he’ll run interference for me, and you said he told you the same for the folks at the Haven. What if that doesn’t work out? Albert may be an expert string-puller, and Cardinal Spera listens to him, but we both know the Vatican is vast and mostly hostile. Then there’s Nezz—I don’t know why, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s still after me.”

John put a large hand over one of her smaller hands. “You don’t have to do it all alone, Una.” He looked at her seriously. “And don’t forget to count your blessings; isn’t that what you’d tell a parishioner?”

“Yes, Father,” said the succubus, with mock contrition, eliciting a laugh from John. “I am blessed to be a hot demon chick with a scrumptious boyfriend whose shoulders look amazing in that shirt.” She winked at him.

“I’m also grateful for the chance to pretend I’m just a regular girl, now that I’m not red from head to toe. My friends and loved ones are a blessing and a comfort… especially in bed. Thanks to the grace of some higher power, we escaped the clutches of a demonic, mind-controlling Church official and rescued nine others from the ruins of his evil laboratory.”

The waiter came with their plates. The sandwich looked amazing: a grilled open-faced ham and egg affair, with melted cheese oozing from beneath the golden crust of bread. John took an appreciative sniff. “Very dramatic rendition, cute stuff. You going to eat that whole thing?”

Una circled her hands protectively around her plate. “Back, foul priest,” she said with mock ferocity. “You chose your croissants, and I’m hungry. Hey, how’s everything at the Haven?”

John’s croissant had come with a small ramekin of apricot jam, which he slathered over the buttery pastry. “Settling down, I guess. It’s not a permanent home, but it’s given everyone some badly needed stability. We’re doing what we can to support Bill and Cesar, who’re staying together… I’m worried they’re isolated.”

He frowned, then recalled something. “I meant to tell you, Sherill’s out of the hospital and in the city now. She and Reem and Aidan are already talking about applying to Hunter College together.”

Una brightened noticeably. “That’s fantastic! I’m so glad she’s recovered. I hope she’s not having nightmares.”

John frowned. “She’s had a few, but Reem has been sleeping in her room, and I hear she’s doing better. I’ve had some unusual dreams of my own.” His eyes flicked to Una, who raised an eyebrow.

“You mean… that time we both dreamed about…”

“…the hotel room and that bodysuit? Yeah.” John smirked. “I meant it when I said it was a good dream. Ridiculously good.” He shifted in his seat. “Maybe I was reading your texts wrong, but you seemed… disturbed? Did you ever figure out why that happened?”

The pretty young girl across from him shook her head. “No. I’m just glad I didn’t pull you into the nightmare ending of that dream. Maybe I should ask Niamh for help in understanding my visions and nocturnal terrors. Or Sherill! I realize I don’t know her at all—the version of her I befriended, who told me about her dream-magic, was an impostor using Sherill’s memories. But the real deal is still a half-baku, and maybe she’d be willing to help.”

John swallowed a bite of flaky pastry. “Of course. She’s been asking when you’ll come by; I think she wants to thank you for pulling her out of that cell.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around. This…” She gestured at her face. “…has been a lot to adjust to. And I wanted to see you first. Get your reaction.”

“You surprised me, that’s for sure. But the reason I didn’t recognize you is that I was looking for, you know…”

“…a tall red demoness in high-heeled boots to hide her heels. Maybe a trench coat?”

“Exactly.” He wiped a bit of cappuccino foam from his mustache. “Now that I look closer, your features aren’t much different. You and your other look could be twins, or sisters close in age. You’re just softer, smaller, and with a different complexion. How does it feel to pass as a human white girl?”

Una shrugged. “Weird, but nice. I mean… I’m used to looking white, and I had a hard time adjusting to people looking at me like an inhuman menace. Now I don’t feel like I have to hide anymore; I’m free to go wherever I want, without people noticing. Except for, you know… guys hitting on me.”

John snorted. “I bet. I’m sure you’ll be getting plenty of attention, whether you want it.” He took another bite of croissant, chewing thoughtfully. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m apologizing for all men, but… that must be a lot to adjust to.”

“Eh, I’m used to that.” She shrugged. “Just goes with the territory, ever since I became Micki. Sometimes it comes in handy.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, but didn’t elaborate.

“Sitting here, I keep having to remind myself that you’re not just a pretty girl. That your conscious mind is riding around on top of, what—nine thousand years of succubus training?”

The girlish demon tilted her pretty head and looked at him with an unreadable expression. After several seconds of silence, John cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Micki—” he started, just as she said, “John—”

“Sorry, go ahead,” John said.

“No, you go,” said Una.

The priest took a deep breath and exhaled. “Una—I want to use your chosen name. I’m glad we’re finally on this date. Even after a few days, I started missing you. I want to just enjoy being together, you know? But I keep getting distracted.”

She reached out and put one of her small hands on John’s large hand. “So tell me what’s distracting you. Just like the old days. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Well—some of it we already touched on. Some you didn’t mention. What about that Kyber guy? He’s another ancient demon, right, and he knows who you are.”

Una twisted her mouth into a wry smirk. “Oh, him. He’s a jerk, but harmless. I mean, not harmless, but I don’t think he wants to harm me. He’s a huckster and a con man, but I get the impression that he wants something from me, not that he’s malicious.”

John raised his eyebrow. “But what about his boss? You mentioned a huge guy named Nestor. Who would an ancient con-man demon call a boss? He must be magically powerful, even if he’s not a demon.”

A strange look passed across the demon’s face. “Nestor… I think I met him before that penthouse, but I can’t figure out where. I don’t think he’s a demon? But… why don’t I think that?” Her smooth brow furrowed in confusion, then relaxed. “I can’t explain it, but I think I can handle him.”

She picked up the last quarter of her croque-madame, took a delicate bite, chewed and swallowed. “Mmmm. This is delicious; you should get it next time. Anyway…”

“Wait,” said John. “Una, there’s something strange about all of this. Will you talk to Susan about it, please? Tell her everything.”

“Sure, sure. I will,” said Una, “but not now. I’m trying to enjoy being here with you, silly.” He felt something brush across his leg and realized she was rubbing his thigh with her stockinged foot, slowly and gently.

“Okay, okay,” said John. “I won’t bring it up again. So tell me about your visit with Albert. I know you went there to confront him, and I’m sure he apologized gravely and gave you some bullshit excuses.”

Una nodded vigorously. “I don’t envy his position, but he was basically like: You’re still a priest, Sister Belmont! To get paid, work as a consultant for my supernatural division! Here’s your top secret file about how my old pal Spencer chose you as a demon vessel.” She let out a deep sigh, her face falling a little. “I might as well be excommunicated. I can’t say Mass or hear confession.”

“Wow… that’s a lot. Sister Belmont?” John leaned back, thinking. “He really said that?”

“Yeah. I guess I’m not defrocked, and my status is in limbo. So I can stay on the payroll if I don’t preach, administer sacraments or do any actual pastoral duties. I can still use the title, I guess, but… why would I? It feels weird, John.”

John nodded sympathetically. “Here we are, two priests on a date. What a pair.” He chuckled, then grew somber again. “I’m sorry. I know how much you always loved your calling. Even if you haven’t said Mass in months, I can’t imagine how it must feel to have that slowly ripped away from you.”

Una shrugged. “It was hard going into it with him… he’s not exactly the sweetest lamb, you know? But not as hard as I thought, honestly. I’ve been wrestling so much with my identity since becoming a succubus that this seems almost normal.”

She slid her foot up John’s inner thigh until it rested against his crotch. “But John… I can serve the Church in so many other ways. And surely you know we’re not the first priests to get up to mischief behind closed doors. Don’t you remember the whole business with Cardinal Coccopalmerio and his incubus secretary a few years back?”

John swallowed, feeling heat rising in his body from the touch of Una’s soft foot. “Who didn’t hear about that scandal? But it was a tremendous breach of trust and privilege, and they forced him into retirement.” The pressure on his crotch increased slightly, and John shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He tried to ignore the sensation, but it was hard. He was hard. Una smiled innocently, her sparkling yellow eyes wide.

“All I’m saying is,” he gasped, “We don’t want to be in that position.”

“Oh?” Her smile grew wicked. “What position do you prefer, Father?” She rubbed her heel against John’s growing bulge as she took a last bite of sandwich.

John coughed. “You know all too well. But look… did Monsignor Albert say anything about me?” The pressure against his cock eased, and Una’s smile faded.

“Yes.” She took a deep breath, and when she let it out, her eyes were cold. “He did everything but threaten to rip off your collar. Said I have a ‘condition’ that excuses me. I can’t believe that the Church would agree that literally being a demon is a condition. You, on the other hand…”

Una waved her hands in exasperation. “He wants me to know that you could come under fire any time. It’s fucked up. I hate it. He’s trying to blackmail both of us, and it pisses me off. I wanted to—”

John held up a hand. “Una. I knew that already. He called me in and told me to keep my distance from you for now. I told him he could fuck off. He was very diplomatic about the whole thing.”

She laughed bitterly. “Diplomatic? More like a manipulative prick, but I suppose he thinks he has the best of intentions.”

Una’s face fell into a pout. “John… can we please stop talking about this stuff? It’s our date, and I want it to be about us, not Ludovic Albert, or whatever Maria is up to, or Thomas Spencer…”

He nodded. “Sure.” He reached over the table, taking her hands in his. “Let’s go for a walk. We can talk more later.” She smiled gratefully as he fished some bills out of his wallet and nodded to the barista. “And don’t worry about Albert. I’m not afraid, and I’m not going anywhere. You let me worry about me.”

The succubus’ face lit up. “I love you, John.” Her eyes were shining. “You’re my rock, you know that? Let’s go.”

They walked down the street, heading south towards Washington Square Park. John felt Una’s arm slide around his waist, and returned the hug, putting his own arm around her narrow shoulders. We fit together nicely, he thought, despite our new height difference.

Una stopped, circling around in front of him. “John,” she said, tilting her gaze up towards him. “Do you remember what you told me in the dream? Before we fell asleep?”

He blushed. “I… yeah, I meant it. I love you too.”

Her arms snaked behind his neck, drawing his head downwards as she rose onto her tiptoes. Their lips met, softly at first, but quickly turning passionate. He pulled her close, feeling her body mold to his, feeling his desire rise, feeling his heart beat faster.

Una’s tongue teased his lips, and he opened them willingly, letting her explore his mouth as her fingers twined themselves into his hair. His hands ran over her back, feeling the curves of her body through her clothes as she kissed him hungrily. The curve of her hip pressed against his growing cock, and his hips rocked forward involuntarily, pushing into the warmth between her legs. She moaned, and the sound made him throb with need.

When they broke apart, they were both gasping, and her cheeks were red. I can see her blush now, he thought. It’s too cute, I can’t handle it. The world around him was suddenly sharp-edged and vibrant, as though supernatural force had turned the colors up.

 “John,” she whispered, “I want you to fuck me now. Take me home.”

John Hayes felt a rush of emotion, a mixture of joy and lust, fear and love that made his chest ache. He needed this woman, in ways he couldn’t articulate or explain, even to himself; she had become part of his world, even if the parts no longer fit.

“Yeah,” he said in a hoarse whisper, staring into her eyes. “Let’s go.”