Page 76 of Succubus

“There’s a truck in our driveway,” says Ella. The little brown house has just come into sight.

I glance up. It isn’t a truck. There’s an RV—dingy tan with an awkward brown stripe—parked, poorly, in our driveway. One wheel is jutting into the fairy garden, a dark rut carved just short of the little whale sculpture with the chipped tail. Someone has spray-painted a scrawl of lime-green graffiti on the back, above the peachy Georgia license plate, but it seems they were interrupted in the act, and it’s completely illegible.

“What the heck— ” I say.

Mom is sitting on the front porch. I forget for a second why she’s here in the middle of the day, then remember it’s Sunday. She’s laughing, talking to someone who is obscured by the dangling brown leaves of the vine.

Ella and I come up the front path.

“Oh, Tempest! You’re home!” She gets up. “This is Al.”

Oh no. I wasn’t even aware of there being a new boyfriend. I’ve been distracted.

But sure enough, there he is—a stubby guy, a solid three inches shorter than her, wisps of hair combed optimistically across the shine of his baldness, a blunt bulb of a reddened nose, intent little beaded eyes under extravagant brows. He’s wearing—what is he even wearing? Pin-striped dress pants that seem to belong with a suit that went out of style half a century ago and a formfitting T-shirt that declares MY BODY IS A WONDERLAND in hot-pink cursive letters. He is grinning straight at me. Something is really strange about this one— Mom is sinking to a new level. And then she says, “He’s your father’s cousin, Tempest. But don’t worry! He doesn’t like him, either!”

The man walks forward to greet me, reaches the edge of the steps, and suddenly jumps over them, landing directly in front of me.

I lurch back.

“Oh, ow,” he says, his voice hoarse, whispery like a mobster in a movie. “That hurt!” He’s surprised.

“Oh my goodness!” Mom sounds impressed.

“Why did he jump?” Ella whispers, scuttling behind me.

“Tempest Dunlap.” The strange man speaks my name like a pronouncement in an exotic new language. He executes a small bow. “My name is Alabaster. But you can say Al.” His old-school Staten Island voice strains against the limit of its range as he pushes to speak louder than it sounds like it naturally goes. And then he lowers his voice precipitously to say just for my ears: “I am sent by your father. I am a bringer of pain. I am here to destroy the life of the one who hunts you. I will make him suffer until he begs for death. I will then give him his death.”

CHAPTER 24

Ella gasps. “What did he say?” Al the pain demon wasn’t quite quiet enough.

“Ella, go inside right now,” I say.

She whimpers.

“You’re fine, it’s fine, sweetie. I just need a minute out here. Just give me a minute.”

“Hello, child,” Al says to her, wiggling his fingers. “You’re small but I like your hat.” His gruff, strange whisper-yell is alarming.

Ella blinks. “It’s a helmet,” she whispers.

“A helmet?” He seems to be trying the word out. “Ah. A helmet. A type of hat.”

“I think so,” agrees Ella nervously.

“A pink hat,” he guesses.

“Inside,” I say, louder, to Ella.

She scurries by us, leaving me with her skateboard.

“Did you say her father sent you for some reason?” Mom says to Al.

He nods rapidly, several times. “Yes. I had to confirm that it was Tempest Dunlap first.” He breathes in. “But I smell the same blood in her.”

“Oh good,” I say softly. “Mom, can you set Ella up in there with—whatever. Just make sure she’s okay?”

“Your mother, Carol Dunlap, doesn’t like him,” Al explains to me, again in a whisper. “I don’t like him, either.”