Page 28 of Succubus

“You should slow down.” I don’t want him to pass out. I want him to answer all my questions.

He ignores me.

“You said there’s hardly anyone left,” I remind him. “Left of who? What did you mean?”

He screws up his face in toddleresque annoyance. “It used to be there were so many of us, before the shift. . . .” He drifts, sounding drunker by the second. These drinks are enormous. “Now they have to root it out. Any of the old power, they’re rooting! They call it ‘the dark’ now. There was no dark! It was all just power.”

He swivels in my direction. “What can you do, anyway? What did I make this time?”

“I’m a . . .” I can’t say it. “Every man I’m . . . romantic with dies.”

He whoops. “Wowie. Fun one. Done anything interesting with it?”

I recoil and he laughs at my expression. “Oh boy. A do-gooder. Shame.” He shakes his head extravagantly. “Too bad. That’s a sweet little power you’ve got yourself! If you feed it.” His scowl is sudden, comprehensive. “Look at you—you’re weak!” He leans too close. “You’re pale and sickly! If you let yourself do what’s natural for you, imagine . . . You’re playing by the wrong rules, kid. The wrong rules. It’s their world now. . . . But we shouldn’t just roll over and take it. You know what I mean? Gotta stick together, what’s left of us. Gotta fight back.” He slaps the table. Liquid sloshes. It’s a good thing there’s so little in the glass.

Now he looks grim. “So few of us left is the problem. But I survived. I’m still here.”

“It feels like a curse,” I say, almost to myself. “My power has always felt like a curse.”

“Oh, it is,” he answers immediately. “Of course it’s a curse. All my kids got it.”

My head is a dryer, my thoughts tossed around and around, blasted at high heat.

“Who cursed us?” I manage to say. “Was it you?”

Is Dick Face really going to give me the answers to every single question I have? Just like I have fantasized about so many times. Is there a cure? my mind is yelling. Is there a cure? Can I be normal? Will I ever be normal?

He hiccups a laugh. “Me!” And then, “You think you’re the only one? The only one who got cursed?”

“Who . . . did the cursing?” I try.

“I’m the one who got cursed!” He jabs himself in the chest with a finger.

I wait.

“Oh yeah. Big-time. This whore.” He shakes his head, says a word in that other language. I can’t tell if it’s a swear or a name.

“A witch?” I suggest. Listen to me. What’s my next guess, an evil fairy who didn’t get invited to my christening?

“A witch! A witch!” he chortles. Apparently this is hilarious. “No, you American.” He says it like it means baby, moron. “Much more than a witch. A . . .” Another word I can’t understand, with a twirl in the sound. “She loved me.” He looks pleased at the memory. “What? I was very hot. Very hot. You don’t believe it now. Fuckin’ fallow. But I was perfect. I’ll be better, later. Oh yes, she loved me. Obsessed with me. Jealous type. They all are!”

He snarls—a jarring, painful expression, showing oddly narrow gray teeth. “Caught me looking at some girl. I don’t know. Something stupid. She got all emotional. Women. Puts this curse on me. On my seed! All my offspring have to be like me—they have to ‘bring about the suffering of others.’ That’s what she said. I’m pretty sure. I swear, she turned into a bass right there.” He inexplicably pronounces it like the fish. “There was a boom, thunder!” He claps his hands sloppily.

“A bass? Like with a really low voice?” I correct. He’s a singer (or was one), he should know better.

“No, like the fish. A big fish.”

I can’t tell if he’s joking.

“Just like you guys do in your movies. Drama. Lots of drama. They loved their drama. I miss it, Trellis. You said your name was Trellis?”

“Tempest.”

“Oh, that’s much better! I’m not always good with names. But that’s a good one.”

I’ve found it: the one thing my parents have in common, aside from a love of exceedingly amplified electric guitar.

“She was something else, though. . . .” A wicked grin flickers across his desiccated face. “And wowie, the body on her. Well, one of them, anyway!” He chuckles to himself, shakes his head, reminiscing.