Page 29 of Succubus

It occurs to me belatedly that I should be recording this entire conversation. On the app Grub told me to use. How did I forget? I know how. I am completely and utterly overwhelmed. I grope for my phone in my bag, can’t find it, as usual.

“Where is she now?” I ask.

He looks wistful for a moment. “Maybe gone forever. But man, if she showed up, you’d know it. That’s real power. . . .” He seems to be drifting.

“How many of us are there? How many, uh, children do you have?”

“Damned if I know! Who can keep track?” He slurps down a green bean.

“But you think there are a lot? And they are all . . . like me?”

“Oh yeah. They’re like you. And better than you.” He picks up the oval plate, tips it back so the remaining green beans slither down into his mouth, some of them falling on his face. He chews. “That’s the whole thing. It’s just us left, far as I can tell. Just the fam.” His accent is thicker now, ornamenting some of his words in interesting ways. Where is he from?

Two thousand years old. He isn’t from anywhere that’s anywhere anymore.

“What do you mean?” I press.

“The rest are all gone. Hiding, maybe. They don’t tell me!”

“Who are the rest?”

“I told you! I just told you about her. The old ones! The firsts. The, y’know . . .” He waves a loose-fingered hand, searching briefly for the word: “immortals.”

“But you’re still here.”

“Right. I slipped through. Not a big enough deal, I guess!” I don’t even have to ask again, he’s just telling me now: “Not one of the big guys, so didn’t bother putting in all that effort to kill me. There used to be packs of those murdering assholes. Called themselves the Army of Light or some shit. Hadn’t heard about ’em in a long time, but looks like there are still one or two, just waiting around. Pigs. Can’t leave it alone.” He leans close, breath smacking my face. “Just let us have a little fun, right? And how come they changed all the rules? How come this One True God comes in. . . .” His voice drops to an abrupt whisper. He looks furtively around.

He is scared of . . . God? I can’t follow any of this. I can tell I’m losing him. He’s too drunk.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” I pay the exorbitant bill as Dick Face tells me I’m wasting my money, I shouldn’t pay, they’ll give us everything for free. I get a Lyft and drag him outside, into the bustling neon night of South Beach. A warm breeze sifts salt from the ocean into my face; a woman in a gold lace bodysuit and six-inch red heels glides by. People are crowding the sidewalk, almost no one wearing all the normal articles of clothing.

“I need your number,” I say once I’ve loaded him into the car. He hands me his phone, allows me to enter my number under Tempest Your Daughter from NJ. I text myself.

We get out at his building, and I sling my backpack over my shoulder. Dick Face stumbles against my side. I have to help him to the door.

I hate touching him, hate that I want to help him anyway. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say. “I’m here another day. I’ll come back in the morning. We have more stuff to talk about.”

“More questions, more questions,” he mutters. And then, with a mighty inhalation, he draws himself up and seizes my shoulders. His face wobbles toward mine.

“Daughter.” His voice is gravelly with prophecy. “Save yourself. Learn how to use your power.”

“I know how it works,” I say.

“No,” he intones fiercely in that resonant voice. “No. You are not commanding it. You have to want . . . to want to use it. . . .” He falters, his eyelids drooping, then shivers back into himself. “Then you can bend them, like me! Once you get going. It’s a good one! I’ve seen it. Some very powerful men went down. Sometimes just a kiss! Sometimes just a look, if you can believe. If you practice! If you’re lucky.”

I flinch.

He glares at me. “I know what you are.”

I wait, wavering under the force of his alcoholic breath. “You’re too damn nice. Nice!” He spits a laugh out like it’s rotten. “Wrong personality. If the hunter comes for you, though, you destroy him. You have to. Don’t hesitate.” He glares fire into my eyes. “Unlock yourself. Save yourself. Save your siblings! The line! The line needs to be saved.”

“Why don’t you do it?” I demand. “Why aren’t you trying to kill him?”

He shudders. And then I see the truth of it.

He is afraid. Even though he is alone, he is afraid to die.

Two thousand years isn’t enough.