“He’s weak. He probably thinks he’s securing the survival of his men if he joins Azazel,” Hansa replied, her voice laced with contempt. “I never liked him, even as a boy. He cried a lot and always ran after Neela’s skirt.”
Some confusion must have passed over our faces. Hansa’s expression lit up with a grin as she looked at us. “Oh, you don’t know!”
“Know what?” I asked.
Her hand finally left my shoulder, and I could breathe again. Her touch alone could cripple my senses entirely, I realized. I welcomed Anjani’s warmth seeping into my side.
“Arid was born here, into our tribe,” Anjani explained briefly.
“Arid?”
“Kristos’s father,” Bijarki further clarified, and I nodded.
“As I have told you before, we only use the incubi for pleasure and to ensure the survival of our tribe,” Anjani continued, prompting a chuckle from Bijarki. It was all he could do, given the death stare that Hansa gave him in response. “The girls that are born here, we keep and raise ourselves. The boys are sent to the surrounding citadels, to be taken into incubi clans that fail to have offspring of their own.”
I looked over to the mass of succubi still surrounding us, each eyeing us curiously. They were all strong, fierce, and seductive—from the youngest to the eldest. Their way of life sort of made sense. It kept things simple and helped them maintain their independence. But I still felt sorry for the little incubi, who never got to see their mothers and sisters again.
“So brothers stay with brothers and fathers, incubi with incubi, basically. And the succubi stay with the succubi, separate from the males in all aspects of life?” I asked, still absorbing the concept.
“Yes. It’s been this way for as long as we can remember. Arid was born here many centuries ago.” Hansa took over from Anjani and pulled her away from me, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
I suddenly felt cold and uncomfortable as more succubi turned their eyes to me. “We sent him away as soon as he learned to walk. Neela was his mother and my cousin.”
“His other son, Sverik, is trying to persuade him to join Azazel’s army to ensure their survival,” Draven explained, and Hansa rolled her eyes.
“Sverik is a little wimp, even weaker than his father. And the worst part is that Arid may ultimately end up following Sverik’s lead on this. To him, blood is thicker than water and heavier than his so-called warrior pride.”
I could sense much contempt coming from Hansa where the incubi were concerned. I looked over to Bijarki and saw him keeping his head down, his gaze fixated on his boots and his lips pursed. He was clearly not comfortable, but I figured the succubi had their reasons to keep themselves away from the rest of the world and even their own species. With so many turning to serve Azazel, it didn’t come as a surprise.
Judging by how pristine their settlement looked, probably preserved over millennia, the succubi cherished their way of life and stopped at nothing to protect it. I’d heard similar tales of independent warrior women back home, outside The Shade in the human world—like the Amazons of ancient Greece.
“Nevertheless, we need to reach out to Arid and Sverik and stop them before they do something foolish,” Draven insisted. “This has all come too far, and there is still time to put an end to it.”
“So, what do you want us to do? Ride out to Arid and tell him to wait?” Hansa’s eyebrow was lifted, a universal sign of doubt.
“This is about more than just talking to the few remaining incubi factions out there and hoping they won’t turn dark. This is about forging alliances amongst ourselves, the ones still standing, and striking back at Azazel while he’s busy attacking the last resistance cells of Eritopia,” the Druid replied passionately.
“What do you propose?”
“Let’s reach out to them first. I understand you have some extraordinary weapons in your arsenal. We also have tremendous tactical advantage right now. The odds will be in our favor if we come together. It’s not ideal for any of us, but there’s no time to be proud. Pride kills.”
Hansa mulled over his words, while shifting her gaze from Anjani to us.
“Bring out the dragon tears!” she barked at the succubi in the crowd.
Dragon tears?
There was some motion and shuffling between them, until two young warriors came out carrying a heavy hemp sack. They carefully placed it at her bare feet. Hansa bent forward and pulled out a glass sphere the size of a billiard ball, filled with a bright red liquid, and fitted with a fuse.
“Don’t drop it,” Hansa said and threw it at me.
I caught it before it hit the ground. A sigh of relief fizzled out of me, and I couldn’t help but glare at Hansa with raw anger.
What the hell is she thinking?
If this was the explosive that Anjani had told us about, why would she toss it around like a baseball?
“Are you trying to kill me?” I yelped, clutching the sphere in my hand.
“You don’t strike me as a weakling who can’t catch a little bomb.” She grinned.
I handed the sphere over to Serena, who placed it in Draven’s hand. I watched as he brought it up to his nose and sniffed it. He grimaced and coughed.
“What is in this thing?” he asked, clearing his throat.
“A mixture of poisonous weeds from the swamps and a concentrated infusion of shape-shifter blood,” Hansa explained. “One of these is enough to incapacitate a Destroyer temporarily. Up to five are needed to create a blast powerful enough to kill it.”
“How many do you have?” I asked.
“Enough to start a war, I’d say. But we lack the numbers to plant and ignite them where they can do substantial damage.”
“And this is why we need to come together,” Draven declared. “Your bombs, enough incubi to lead an attack, and our Oracles can help us deliver devastating blows to Azazel, regardless of how many Destroyers he has. Once the incubi under his rule see what we can do, they will turn against him, and you know it.”
Hansa’s expression shifted from a jovial grin to consternation, her forehead smooth, and her mouth drawn in a small line as she looked at the Druid.
“Your Oracles?”
“I have three Oracles under my protection. Under the protection of the Daughters, to be precise,” Draven replied.
“I thought Azazel had captured the last one.”
“Not before she passed her powers onto my brother and cousins.” Serena’s voice was barely audible next to Draven. “Our mothers met her about eighteen years ago. The first born children after that encounter turned out to be Oracles. It’s why we’re all here, though we didn’t exactly plan this.” It was clear her last sentence was directed at Draven, and he lowered his head almost apologetically.
“Three Oracles, you say,” Hansa muttered and looked at Anjani. A smile tugged at the corners of the older succubus’s mouth. “I think we have enough between us to actually do something about that filthy snake.”
Relief washed over me. We were one step closer to taking the fight to Azazel and rescuing my sister and best friends from a horrible fate.
“After all, it’s only a matter of time before Azazel sends an entire army after us. Who knows how much longer we can hold out up here?” Hansa continued, her voice tinged with concern.
“So, you’ll help us?” Draven asked.
“Indeed I will.” She smiled and shouted over her shoulder, making Anjani cringe. “Kalli! Thenna! Riga!”
Three young succubi stepped forward. They looked a little too much like each other, and I was willing to bet they were triplets. They wore short, dark green cotton dresses and wide leather belts around their narrow waists with identical golden crests as buckles. They wore their hair long and silky, flowing in shades of black and purple. They were tall and slender, making me think they were very good runners.
“Pack your satchels, girls,” Hansa barked at them. “You’re riding out to Arid’s camp. Get him to set up a meeting with us on neutral gro
und. You leave in an hour.”
Kallie, Thenna, and Riga nodded simultaneously and rushed to the far eastern camp border to get the horses ready. Hansa turned her attention back to us with a lascivious smile.
“You all need to rest and relax now. Tonight, we feast.”
She looked at me far too intently for me not to notice the sexual undertone. I then realized that they were all looking at me, Bijarki, and Draven, who, for all his blindness, was still considered a good mate. The succubi’s expressions were excessively suggestive, and I felt my cheeks burn.
We had switched from political and strategic discussions to salacious double entendre so fast that none of us men knew how to react. The succubi scattered, but some sent me unspoken promises with their eyes. I would find out later what they meant if I didn’t hold my ground. And so would Bijarki and Draven from what I could tell.
I looked over to Anjani, who glowered at me, then turned and joined her sister. They walked toward the bonfire.
To my right, Serena clutched Draven’s arm, visibly flushed and looking at the succubi like they were bloodthirsty shifters. I couldn’t help but wonder whether there was something going on between her and the Druid.
The thought left me quickly as Bijarki moved to my side and nudged me with his elbow.
“I think we’d best stay close to one another in case they get ideas,” he mumbled.
I was in for a rough night.
Serena
[Hazel and Tejus’s daughter]
I was in for a rough night.
I knew it from the moment we set foot past the limestone barrier and the succubi saw us—well, had seen the men in our group, that is.
One by one they had stood up, coming closer and setting their lustful sights on Jovi, Bijarki, and Draven. I had felt so awkward, so out of place, and, frankly, intimidated. This was a tribe of creatures designed to seduce and weaponized to kill. I may be quite the fighter myself, but after looking at them, I felt small and meaningless by comparison. It was a feeling I suspected I would spend the rest of the night fighting off.
I tried to focus on our mission instead and couldn’t help but smile at the thought that we were one step closer to putting an end to Azazel’s bloody and destructive reign. It meant we were also one step closer to going home. However, that last thought didn’t sit as well with me as it had in the past, because it instantly made my mind drift to Draven, wondering if I’d ever see him again after all this was over.
Evening settled around the camp, and I noticed a shimmering, transparent dome stretching above it. I hadn’t been able to see it in the daylight, but it seemed to deflect light differently at night. According to Hansa, it was another perk of the swamp witches’ protective spell. It was only a visual illusion that kept the tribe hidden from anyone or anything flying over. No one could see in, but we could all see out, like through a massive glass ceiling.
I sat by the giant bonfire next to Draven, leaning against a dozen soft pillows made from animal hides and stuffed with down from jungle birds. They felt good against my back, a welcome respite from the previous night’s amber casing and moss floor.
Hansa, despite her imposing frame and thundering voice, was a very gracious host. Once she had seen the potential of our alliance, she relaxed a little and made sure we had everything we needed for the night. Three tents had been raised for us and stocked with water pitchers and blankets.
But before we could sleep, we had to sit through their nightly feast.
After a moment of silence to honor their fallen sisters, the succubi put the little ones to bed and gathered around the fire with massive platters of food—a dazzling array of weird-looking grilled meats, exotic vegetables and fruit, and what looked like local breads.
Some of the warriors took to the drums and provided the musical entertainment—an endless stream of tribal beats flowing into a passionate rhythm that further reinforced my view of the succubi as fiery creatures who rarely saw the fine line between love and hate.
Bijarki sat farther to my right surrounded by a throng of purring succubi. Two of them danced with each other in front of him, moving their hips and flexing their legs to the rhythm of the drums. Their muscles jolted with each move, and the light of the bonfire threw playful shadows against their silvery bodies.
They smiled at him, using fluid hand gestures to coax him into joining them, but Bijarki didn’t react. Even with three other succubi lounging around him, their perfect bodies snaking along the pillows as they caressed his face and torso, the incubus looked into the distance, completely unresponsive.
He wore his eyebrows in a pensive frown. His skin glowed under the bonfire, his grayish eyes dark and solemn. His jaw was firm, and his lips were set in a straight line. He was truly a beautiful creature, carved to physical perfection. I couldn’t help but think about Vita in that moment. I had given Bijarki a hard time at first, but really, she had every reason to feel attracted to him, with or without his influence. I wondered if his apathy toward the succubi’s advances had something to do with her.
We ate well—though I found myself shying away from the meats—and Jovi and I were particularly happy, given the looks we exchanged during dinner. It was so good to be out of the mansion, tasting real food instead of the same magical tasteless junk we’d endured since arriving in Eritopia. I laughed as he sank his teeth into a large plum and almost growled as he tore at the pulp.
“What’s so funny?” Draven asked, chewing on a hunk of bread.
I wiped my lips with the back of my hand and swallowed the food in my mouth. Before I could respond, the succubi brought over gold pitchers and goblets for us to drink from. I clasped my hand around the chalice, sniffing the pale pink liquid inside. It smelled like roses and spice.
“It’s just that Jovi and I are really happy to eat food from outside of the mansion right now.” I laughed lightly, then cleared my throat and resumed a serious and respectful tone. “Not that we don’t like eating at the mansion. We do appreciate your kindness and generosity but—”
“But it tastes like crap, as you would so gently put it,” he interrupted me with a familiar smirk. I blushed, a wave of relief washing over me, thankful that he couldn’t see my face in that moment.
“Well, you know, when you have the same thing every single day, it gets drab fast,” I said and took a sip of my drink.
His nostrils flared. “What are you drinking?”
“I don’t know, the succubi are serving it,” I replied after another gulp. It was sweet, but it rolled down my throat with a refreshing aftertaste. “Want some?”
He nodded, and I handed him a goblet.
The drum music tangled with the sound of firewood crackling and the cheers of the succubi. Now more of them were dancing and making use of their hips to draw the attention of Bijarki and, from the looks of it, Jovi too.
Jovi had been left on his own to eat and drink in peace. But that didn’t last long, as he was swiftly flanked by two young succubi who poured him another drink and fed him morsels of food. He didn’t seem to mind. He laughed, ate, and drank his way through the succubi party like a young prince.
I kept myself close to Draven and dined in silence, while Hansa and Anjani were busy catching up on the other side of the bonfire. They threw the occasional glance our way and curtly nodded when our eyes met.
A few hours in, I felt a little light-headed. My senses expanded, and I could hear, see, smell, and taste everything a million times better. I smelled the sweat trickling down the bare spine of a dancing succubus, the plethora of roses and sweet spices in my drink, and the soft hint of musk and leather coming from Draven.
I heard the heartbeats of all the succubi around me, drumming against my ears. I turned my head to look at Draven, and his pulse echoed in my head and resonated in my chest.
I looked into the distance and saw small animals rushing through the tall purple grass beyond the camp in pitch black darkness. Without using my True Sight.
What is happening here? br />
“I think there’s something wrong with me,” I said mostly to myself.
“What do you mean?” Draven asked, his voice low with concern.
“My senses are amped up like crazy. I can see, like really see, without my sentry powers. I can smell the most peculiar things. I can…I can hear your heartbeat.” I breathed the last part out, and his lips curved into a smile.
“It must be the drink,” his hand sought mine and his fingers brushed over my skin, once again sending trillions of shivers down my spine. His touch was amplified as well, triggering new and profound reactions from the depths of my body, electrical currents coming in wave after wave. My breath halted.
“What kind of drink is this?” I lifted the goblet in my hand and placed it on the table. I’d stick to water from now on.
“The succubi are known not only for their seductive nature, but also for their celebration of pure life and freedom. Their potions have been perfected over time to amplify one’s senses. It’s what makes them such good hunters and fighters,” Draven explained. “I’m guessing this is one of their concoctions.”
“Wow, so this is pretty much what you experience from your smelly herbs, right?”
He laughed, and I melted at the sound of it.
“In a nutshell yes, but my state is slightly deeper, more detailed,” he replied.
“You smell like musk and… something heady, like leather,” I said. I’d just felt the need to say it, remembering how he’d described my own fragrance the other night. I could finally reciprocate the intimate gesture.
He stilled, his hand covering mine. I wasn’t sure he was breathing at that moment, but I could feel his attention on me. He didn’t need eyes to make me feel like I was under a microscope. My heart started racing as I tried to keep my emotions under control. His head tilted to one side.
“Your heart is galloping, Serena. What is it?”
I took a deep breath, trying to will myself back under control.
As much as I disliked it, I was saved by a succubus, who came and sat with us. She wore a soft, translucent white dress that covered her trunk but kept her long legs and arms bare. She was adorned with heavy silver and gemstones.