Succubated!

Una stood up from the couch, her tail lashing slightly behind her. She ran a hand along her appendage from its base, and it quieted. I’m nervous, she realized. But that won’t do, not in front of whoever this man is.

Mr. Nestor’s cool gaze followed her. He swirled his thousand-dollar scotch, a single ice cube clacking against the glass.

“I appreciate the hospitality,” she said. “Whatever your business is with me… maybe another time? I’d take a drink of water, but it’s late and I should get home.”

Nestor didn’t blink. “Where is home these days, Miss Belmont?” He reached for a decanter and poured her a glass of water.

Una tilted her head slightly. “Brooklyn.” It was a big enough borough that she was hardly divulging anything personal.

Nestor nodded as if this news confirmed a suspicion, and she wondered what he was getting at. He looked like he was about to respond, but his eyes shifted to the right.

A second man leaned against the wall by the door, Una realized with a start. She hadn’t noticed him at all; he was slender, stood stock-still, and somehow looked as if he might have come with the penthouse apartment, like a piece of furniture.

The second man peeled himself out of his lean with a sinuous motion. More innocuous in his lack of noteworthiness than stealthy or camouflaged, he wore an expensive gray suit. Perhaps more expensive than a bottle of Nestor’s drink, though Una. The finely woven, shimmering fabric shifted languidly around his slender physique as he moved.

Una’s gaze trailed to the man’s face: a friendly smirk, a hawklike nose, and a high forehead beneath a crop of gray-flecked, sandy hair. His eyes were wide set, and an oddly light shade of blue, so pale that they seemed almost colorless. As Una made eye contact with the man, she felt a sudden wave of recognition. A demon. Another old one.

Nestor motioned with his tumbler, then handed the goblet of water to the second man. “We don’t need to keep you long. I’d like to introduce you to a casual associate of mine, whose plans may be of interest. This is--”

“Nuska,” Una finished, maintaining her gaze with the second man. “I know of you.”

The demon looked Una up and down, taking in her bike suit and wings. After a moment, almost as if waiting to see if either of the others would say more, he spoke in British-accented tones. “Oh my, she is interesting, isn’t she? You remember me on sight, but only know of me? You know, your… predecessor, let’s call her, knew me. Intimately, even. There were some parties…”

During this effluence of words, he’d moved with a glide towards her, reaching his hand out as if to shake hers or receive a kiss.

Una did not take his hand; she narrowed her eyes instead. “I’ll be sure to pass along your greetings.”

“I should note,” the man said with a click of his tongue, “That I sold rights to that name some time ago. I’m going by Kyber now.” He set the goblet of water on the table in front of Una. As he straightened, his other hand dipped into a breast pocket and back out with astonishing speed; now a business card extended from between two bony fingers.

Una took the card gingerly: it was blank. As she watched, letters in a curling script emerged: Matt Kyber, LLC, ESQ, accompanied by a string of numbers and an email address. Hmm, a magical business card too? They’d been a high-end trend a few years ago, touted as eternally accurate—but their expense made them more of a status symbol than anything else.

Nestor remained seated, but his expression had darkened. Una wondered if he was more irritated than pleased at the appearance of this demon.

“So… you’re Mr. Nestor’s lawyer?” Time-honored profession for demons, she recalled.

Kyber raised a finger. “Point of fact: I do not currently represent Mr. Nestor.” Una looked at him in confusion, then saw Nestor clenching his teeth.

Kyber spread his hands helplessly. “Hey, who do you think I am, the prince of lies? I’m a businessman, but I’m as honest as they come. Not that I need to mansplain to you about coming,” he added with a leer at Una.

“Perhaps… you could simply stop volunteering unnecessary information,” Nestor said. Despite his now-stoic expression, he looked as if he might crush the tumbler of fancy whiskey in one powerful hand.

“Nestor, old friend… deals take a bit of social lubrication. Don’t you think, Belmont? May I call you Una?” Kyber was fidgeting, spinning something poised between the bar and one outstretched finger: a small, many-pointed star folded from paper.

These two are making me feel insane, she thought, and stepped around the table. “I should really go…” But Kyber placed one hand on her arm with surprising strength; Una felt herself pulled back towards the couch.

Kyber smirked: “Don’t leave yet. I haven’t even explained the offer…” He looked over at Nestor, as if gauging the other man’s reaction.

He should have been watching Una. She grabbed Kyber’s wrist with her other hand, twisted and bent, and slammed him, face down, against the top of the coffee table; the thick glass cracked beneath his weight. Una bent his arm behind him and put one knee against his shoulder blade, pushing down so that he couldn’t move, and held his free hand in hers. Kyber grunted with surprise at the sudden attack.

Una looked up: Nestor hadn’t moved from his stool, but a slight smile creased his lips.

“Tell me,” she said through clenched teeth, looking down at Kyber’s head with a snarl, “what your business is with me. Without touching me.”

A muffled chuckle came from Kyber: “Spark! Aww, Una. We could have a fun time if you’re still into the rough stuff.” She squeezed his captured hand; the demon’s laughter subsided. “No quarrel have I with thee, Lilith-kin, with thee I have no quarrel…”

Una muttered: “Pax bello superat…” and relaxed her grip. “Now talk.”

Kyber coughed and lifted his face slightly off the glass. “Sure thing, Una! You may know me of old, but let me catch you up on recent Matt Kyber developments.” Una kept her knee pressed into his shoulder blade, but Kyber talked as if it were a familiar position for delivering sales pitches.

“I’m in media now—streaming, targeted influencer development, rapid prototyping of metric-driven entertainments, you name it. Spinning up a lot of projects, see what gains traction… plenty of backing, too.”

His eyes darted nervously to Nestor for a moment. “Mr. Nestor here is just a friend of the enterprise, of course, a colleague!” Nestor scowled silently.

Shifting his attention back to Una’s equally irritated expression, Kyber raised his hands placatingly—though only about a centimeter off the surface of the table. “You probably want to know where you come in. I won’t beat around the bush, not that I need to tell you about--”

“Bushes?” Una cut him off. “I get it. I’m a succubus, you’re a business demon. You’re making sexual double entendres.”

Kyber winced. “Sure. Anyway. Here’s the gist: we’re putting together an educational miniseries, and you’d be perfect for the starring role. A look into the world of supernatural beings, right? Show the mass market the human side, so to speak, of the demons and vampires and manticores and everything else they’re so freaked out by.”

Una narrowed her eyes: “Please tell me you’re not making the supernatural version of The Bachelorette?”

Kyber craned his neck to look at her in surprise. “A dating reality show? No, but that’s good, Una, I like that, that’s fresh. I’m gonna put that into development right away. Can you sign a release? Are you willing to be the--” Una pressed her knee into Kyber’s shoulder, and he coughed. “All right, all right. No, we’re looking for something with more of a reality-documentary flavor. Down-to-earth, sincere… all that stuff.”

A puzzled look crossed Una’s face. She removed her knee, and Kyber lifted himself off the table. “All right, that’s my girl! I could tell you were interested.”

Una wrinkled her nose. “No.”

Kyber’s brow furrowed. “Whaaaat?” His expression turned to consternation: “You didn’t let me finish, babe…”

Una’s eyes flicked to Nestor: he was still sipping, but now with an amused smile on his face, as if watching a soap opera. She looked back at Kyber.

“Let’s just say I’m not convinced you’re the right creative mind for that kind of project? Besides, why would you want me as your star?” Una pondered. “I’m not an actress, and I don’t know the first thing about winning people over to sympathy for supernaturals. My last employers weren’t exactly keen on that.”

Kyber smoothed the lapels of his suit. “Like I said, we’re looking for down-to-earth, sincere… you’ve got that and public speaking experience too, Belmont. Hmm, we can’t call you Father Belmont, of course. Deadnaming, so disrespectful!” He clucked his tongue. “How about Sister Belmont? Can you wear a habit?”

Una just stared at him. Kyber waved his hands: “I know, I know: too much again, Matt. I had three espressos today.”

Una didn’t respond: her thoughts had strayed to the vision of Maria draining John Hayes in front of her eyes. What if that’s happening right now? Those were just hallucinations, weren’t they?

Kyber was right in front of her again, appraising her. “Your most important asset, of course, is your unique sex appeal. You’ve got this whole innocent but smoldering thing going, a duality of naïveté and seductiveness that we can exploit, especially in 4K…” He reached out to stroke her cheek, and Una stepped back, about to yell again.

Another hand halted Kyber’s advance. Una hadn’t noticed Nestor rising from his chair. Now the large man had Kyber’s wrist clasped between thumb and forefinger, squeezing tight and bending Kyber’s arm back slightly, eliciting a squeak from the smaller man.

“Mr. Kyber,” Nestor said, in a tone as calm as his expression, “I believe the lady asked you not to touch her. And we’ve concluded our business for now, yes?”

“I was just leaving anyway,” Una said. She looked down: her tail was swaying slightly behind her. Shit. Still unnerved. Nestor and Kyber looked at her expectantly.

“Next time,” she continued, looking pointedly at Nestor, “just talk to me yourself if you want something.” She turned and strode towards the door to the penthouse, opening it without looking back.

The apartment inside was as luxurious as the exterior view suggested: white walls with art that looked as if it belonged in a museum, a crackling automatic fireplace, and an open floor plan with a kitchen of granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances. Still, the whole place looked strangely sterile: a model unit, not lived-in.

An elevator opened as Una approached. She stepped inside and pressed the button for the lobby.

The two demons outside watched her leave. Nezz maintained his grip on Kyber’s wrist with an intense pressure that belied his calm demeanor. Kyber winced, but then his expression turned sly. “I knew that wouldn’t work. She may be new, but succubae are all canny operators at heart. They have to be.”

“It was your idea, fool,” Nezz rumbled. “And I am disappointed.” He tightened his grip, and Kyber screamed in pain as his bones cracked in the vise-like force of the demon lord’s grasp. His screams turned to manic laughter—bizarrely unlike the pain response of any but the most masochistic of humans. Nezz transferred his hold to Kyber’s other hand, letting the crushed wrist dangle limply.

“Now,” said the archdemon of control, “Tell me what you learned.”

Sweat ran down Kyber’s brow, and his mouth still curved in a rictus grin, but he shrugged with his free arm. His broken wrist flopped, making him wince before he spoke. “Like I said… Hah. Ouch. There’s a duality there. Somehow she’s both Yael and that priest, but she’s neither: someone different.” Kyber tried to wrench his wrist free, but Nezz held it fast.

“Could your old associate have pulled off a merger? As in the days of the Devourings?” Nezz’s eyes were unreadable.

“Nah,” said Kyber, with a trace of unease. “That bitch Yael wouldn’t have given up that much control. And she never knew how to pull off that Hierarchy bullshit.”

At those words, Nezz held a finger to his lips, cautioning, so Kyber whispered: “Besides, you know Devouring didn’t work that way, by permission or force. You can’t Devour a mortal. Or else, fuck... we’d all be doing it, right?”

Nezz hauled Kyber towards the edge of the roof, looking placidly out at the night. If the Lord of Control had thoughts on Kyber’s assertions, they remained shrouded behind that gaze.

“My lord, if I may hazard a guess, Yael is not pulling the strings in that merger. You noticed she remembered my name, but nothing else? And she didn’t recognize you at all.”

Nezz glared at him impatiently. “Because of the bargain she and I sealed. I told her I’d withdraw records of our meeting when my power increased a magnitude, and that seed has already come to fruit. She was too inexperienced to know her memories are a record, so she has forgotten our… congress. And the coin I paid, an oath forswearing control over her or hers.”

Kyber sucked in his breath, then laughed, an unpleasant sound like a rattle full of needles. “I knew you needed me as a blind, what with any contract being a form of control. But I didn’t realize how much you backed yourself into this situation, big guy. You wanted a little strange, but some that you couldn’t control too easily, right? What’s domination without struggle?”

In response, Nezz swung Kyber’s body towards the railing and held him over it. The smaller demon squawked: “Wait, milord! I know it doesn’t look like much, but this body was expensive. Don’t you want to hear about her sigil?”

Nezz paused. “What about it?” The Lord of Control hauled Kyber back onto the roof with a smooth motion and tossed him; the demon landed on his feet with a smooth ripple of the fabric of his suit, as if it had absorbed the energy of the impact.

Kyber brushed himself off, then took out a smartphone and tapped at the screen, pulling up an app. “Check this out. It looks like Yael’s, and that’s what I’d expect based on what you said. But it’s not. It’s an entirely new sigil.”

“Impossible. It must be a branch or an overlay, like other spawn sigils. No sigil has been created in…” The archdemon trailed off.

“I know, right? This sigil is a mirror image of Yael’s. And look at this…” Kyber spread his fingers on the screen. “See those funny edges? That’s a wild-card, baby! A gen-yoo-wine disruptor in the economy of Powers.” For a moment, the demon sounded like a blend of a Kentucky snake oil salesman and a venture capitalist. “This sigil is growing.”