Page 73 of Succubus

“Don’t— ” I start, but he’s crossing to her. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” I call after him. I know he does weekend shifts. “Doesn’t someone need their life saved?”

He’s holding Ella up and she’s laughing as she falls against him.

“Very safe day around here,” he says lightly. “Everyone’s really healthy.”

I hate myself for ever posting about the damned cat. Should’ve taken him right back to the shelter.

Now Ella runs for the swings, pink exoskeleton bobbing brightly. She wants to show Joel how she can spin herself. She’s unclasping her helmet, directing us to sit on a soggy bench nearby.

“Can you sit, too, Joel?” She hauls herself up onto the seat of the swing.

He hesitates, then sits on the edge, as far away from me as possible.

“You were threatening me?” I prompt, breathing him in compulsively.

“Not you.”

“Right. My siblings.”

“You’re not exactly close.”

“How would you know?”

“You would’ve said.”

“You think I lie about literally everything.”

“You only talk about the boy.” There is a fractional pause before he concludes the sentence.

“Grub.” My voice is suddenly untrustworthy, which annoys me. “James.”

He watches Ella. “Nice spinning!”

“No, no! That’s just the start of the spin!”

I reach out, snatch his wrist. He pulls reflexively away, turns his head toward me; our eyes meet.

“Damn it,” he says softly.

“I want you to believe me,” I whisper. I want it intensely in that moment. I am done with him not believing me. “I’m not lying. About any of it. I’m a bad liar. I want you to know what you did.”

I see his throat move as he swallows.

Ella is yelling to catch our attention. Did anyone see her spin?

Neither of us turns. Like a tiny gift from God, she decides to try it again and do a better one.

I’m going to berate him; I’m going to be cold and unflinching and sharp. But instead, my nose threatens incontinence, and tears swell behind the dam of my eyes.

“He was just a boy,” I say. And now I’m crying in earnest. I turn away, wiping my eyes hard, fury clotting the tears in my throat.

I’m aware of Joel’s surprise. And then the natural drift of his hand on the bench, as though he has forgotten for a moment who I am. Or maybe he has remembered. He checks himself an instant later.

“Couldn’t you tell?” I whisper. “When you met him? Couldn’t you tell he wasn’t your enemy?” I look at him.

His face goes blank under my gaze. He looks away.

“I know you know it was wrong. You must know you’re wrong.”