Incubus Honeymoon Read online

  As I shook my head, the music stopped and blocky letters proclaimed “Unable to Complete Request.” I looked over my shoulder at a pretty Asian in a black sweatshirt, a few streaks of cobalt in their hair. “Thanks.”

  They nodded. They were striking—a gummy candy shark with a meaty sweetness beneath the sour, citric crust—studded with sugar crystals like goddamned diamonds. I wondered why they were sitting alone, twirling the stem of a wine flute between their thumb and finger. “You got it, man,” they said, winking an eye lined sparkly blue. “I can’t stand that crap.”

  They pulled a device—maybe it was a phone? Who the hell knew with tech-mages?—from a pocket, and I was forgotten. I touched the pillowy squares on the screen in front of me to pick out some songs: David Bowie, Queen, the Eagles, Blondie, Darude…. “Sandstorm” was one of my guilty pleasures—one of many.

  “Starman” played as I looked around. Apart from the tech-mage, who was engrossed in their phone or whatever, I was alone. I looked apprehensively at the narrow door off to the right. The newly-mown-lawn-drizzled-in-Tabasco scent was coming from the stairs beyond it, so I went down.

  Underneath, it was darker and more open, the low ceiling supported by thick concrete pillars. There was a second bar here, a U-shaped beacon in the darkness thanks to blinking red Christmas lights strung beneath the counter, and I ordered another drink to bolster my courage. Fuzzy spray-painted glyphs adorned the walls—magic to hide what happened down here from the eyes and ears of others. I shivered at the twisted desires assailing me from the few people milling about. It tasted salty and sick—like what you puked up after too much tequila and too many chimichangas, but without the innocent fun that implies. Here I felt the desire for pain, the longing to see others degraded, broken. Abusing fellow mages and magical beings was a pastime of a certain set of the community, one I’d heard about but never seen up close… or felt. I wanted to run.

  I had to be careful around things like that.

  As I stood near the bar, cradling my scotch like a flame that would keep me from freezing in this desolation, a group—two men and a woman—moved past me dragging a seraphim by the collar around its neck. It was naked but for a gauzy loincloth, and it looked at me with pleading silver eyes… and I had to turn away. I tasted blood and agony in that glance, coppery, rotten… but I could do fuck all to help. Sure, I could sense what it longed for—freedom, clouds, and to not be hurt anymore—but I had no way of fulfilling its wishes. As far as what the human mages considered magical beings, I was low on the totem pole. My skills were specific, and they could inspire amazing things, but they were no good in a fight, and right now, that sucked a whole hill of dirty arse. I downed the rest of my drink, but it couldn’t stopper the shit feeling spewing up like a clogged loo.

  Fucking mage bars. This was why I couldn’t stand them.

  One of the reasons, anyway.

  I stood and walked beneath another arch into a wide-open space, cold, loam-smelling, the walls crumbling stone, the floor dirt. In the center, two men were battling with creatures summoned from mystical planes. A shimmering blue narwhal drove its horn toward a fiery fox, which leapt out of the way just in time, a puff of piney smoke in its wake. Great. Real-life fucking Pokémon matches. Mages or not, people are pretty much the same. Most of them revel in fantasy and distraction.

  But there…. There in the corner, sitting on the edge of a folding plastic chair, the blue and orange warring across the planes of his face…. There he fucking was.

  I didn’t even have words. I mean, I’d heard about the fey, about their beauty, but… I couldn’t describe it. He was a ray of sunlight penetrating this hellhole, a shaft of brilliance tearing through the clouds to light on a single perfect blossom. The kind of shit that makes you question your whole damn existence, your place in the cosmos, existentially fucking you silly.

  All I could think was how glad I was to be alive in this moment.

  I tasted rain and honeysuckle and ginger, and I wanted to cry. How could these mages, volleying their creations of water and flame, not feel what was in their presence? Must’ve been some kind of a spell, a ward or a glamour. Best I could guess was I could see him—really see—because I was closer to what he was than the humans around us. He was a waterfall of sparkles, so bright I had to squint as I sat down across from him, straddling the cheap plastic chair and resting my elbows on the back. I didn’t know what to say, and I gaped. My mouth was probably open, and I might have been drooling. But….

  “No one has seen one of your people in a thousand years. What are you doing here?” Here, in this basement reeking of mold, where the elite practitioners of magic demonstrated their strength by raping angelic beings. “Why now?”

  “You think I have chosen this?” His corn-silk hair, almost white, spilled in waves over his shoulders. His skin was like marble, marred by no pores, but tinged slightly blue, especially around his eyes. It looked like makeup, intentional. Maybe it was. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around with opalescent eyes that changed hue depending on the light. “The humans don’t smell any better than they used to.”

  For all his bluster, he was scared. I could taste it, like bile on ice. I saw it in the way he wrapped his long fingers around his shoulders, his crossed arms protecting his heart.

  Mostly I could feel it: his wish to be away from this place, his longing for open spaces and the meadow-scent of plants.

  “Go home, then,” I said. “Back to your merry green fields and softly swelling hills.”

  “I would, but I have been summoned. Invoked. I find the ways back closed to me, demon.”

  “I am not a demon,” I said. “At least no more than you. If you want to judge us by human standards, we’re both dangerous creatures. Both of us possess powers they cannot control… though mine are usually seen as innocuous. It’s why I’m safe in a place like this. I don’t have much the mages can use. But you… you…. You’re a fey?”

  “Have you really never seen one of my people before?” Instead of looking at me, his eyes followed the streams of light zipping back and forth.

  “Are you kidding?” I was getting nervous, and I looked around to make sure we hadn’t drawn any attention. He was a hundred-dollar bill dropped on the ground, and I wanted to snatch him up before someone else noticed. Don’t ask me why. Maybe just out of selfishness. “We should talk. In fact, we should really get out of here.”

  “Why?”

  I couldn’t sense much of his desires; usually desires are the first thing I notice about a person, whether it’s an aching to be chained to a bed and tickled with a feather duster or just a craving for a late-night taco. The void was unnerving and eerie, like looking at a person with no facial features, blank where there’d always been something before. Still, his pride and defiance showed in the lift of his pointed chin. Telling him he was in danger wouldn’t work. I wished I’d listened more when mages talked about dealing with fey. There were a thousand and one rules that no one really knew or agreed on—kind of like that lame joke about the book on understanding women. Not that I’d ever had a problem in that department….

  He was staring at me now, his face a perfect equilateral triangle from the points of his long ears to the sharp end of his chin. I hadn’t noticed the ears before. Was I the only one who could see through his glamour? Fuck, I hoped so.

  Still, it seemed to be wearing thin.

  “Why do you wish for me to accompany you?” He drummed his long, sharp nails on the sticky table carved with insults. “Can you provide some distraction better than this one?”

  “I’d be willing to try?” Was that what he wanted, a spectacle? Something resembling the decadent faerie balls I’d heard about? Well, I could take him to a club… but I didn’t want to. There were a lot of mages in Philadelphia; it was easier for them to hide out here than in nearby New York, especially in neighborhoods like this, the ones the chamber of commerce liked to pretend didn’t exist. The mages liked places like that, forgotten an
d ignored places, because people here knew how to mind their fucking business, so the mages didn’t have to be as careful. If they realized he was here, in the city, he wouldn’t be safe anywhere. They’d chase his skinny alabaster arse all the way to Mexico if he tried to run. And why did I care? It wasn’t my nature to be a protector. I was a selfish creature, and a lazy, opportunistic one. I’d come to terms with it long ago. It had never bothered me before, but then I’d felt out of sorts since I decided to come in here. I wanted to leave, go someplace with way fewer fucking mages. None at all would probably be safest. “I’d just really appreciate it if we could go somewhere else.”

  “So you desire my company? Well, a favor for a favor, then, perhaps.”

  I was tiptoeing toward a minefield. “What favor?”

  “I come with you, and you help me find whatever mortal charlatan pulled me into this….” He looked around the dingy basement and shook his head. “Ugh.”

  “And force them to release you, I assume?”

  “Oh no,” he said, low and dangerous and hungry. “No, I’ll take care of that on my own.”

  “Still a little one-sided, don’t you think?”

  He lifted one shoulder, and it jangled an earring I hadn’t noticed—little cloisonné leaves hanging from chains. “Then I suppose I’ll have to amuse myself.”

  This wasn’t fun. It wasn’t flirting. Flirting was an amuse-bouche; even when it was tangy, it made me curious to sample the next thing. Even when it straight up tasted like shit, I wondered if I could change the flavor. This was a cup of poison, and I was about ready to say fuck it and go on my way—I’d come looking to feed, after all, hoping to satisfy my curiosity, and I’d done that—but just then I noticed a silhouette, backlit from the lights of the bar, coming our way. I recognized her, or rather, I recognized that aching yearning to see someone broken and begging, to have their pain or salvation in her hands. It was the woman who’d been tormenting the seraphim.

  I almost panicked. I didn’t know if this fey motherfucker could fight, and that evil bitch was a mage. Probably powerful too—a seraphim was no cheap plastic trinket. How would we get past her? Fucking hell. I avoided people with her kind of desires for a reason: I didn’t want to fulfill them, and I didn’t want to reach the point where I wanted to want to.

  Pancakes and tea…. A book you could read six times and still notice things you’d missed…. Heirloom tomatoes….

  Motorcycles with neon lights, a computer virus that would erase all student loan debt, and a blonde in a red dress with big tits, tattoos, and a nine-inch cock…. For a fucking Square Enix game to come out on time, for once…. Two blondes….

  Emrys and the tech-mage. They intercepted the woman, and Emrys put his hand on her shoulder, gently guiding her behind one of the concrete pillars and away from us. The tech-mage shone some kind of bluish light on whatever Emrys took from his pocket—whatever it was, the woman wanted it. I could feel her hunger.

  “Now,” I said to the fey. “We have to go now.”

  “Then you agree to my bargain?”

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  “Ah, good. Then let’s just seal our agreement.” He stood and placed a long-fingered hand on my belly.

  I felt like something crawled up my spine on the inside and bumped against the base of my skull. For a second everything blurred into a smear. “What did you take?”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll give it back when our arrangement is concluded.”

  I tried to push it to the back of my mind as I grabbed his elbow and tugged him toward the steps, hopefully before the woman’s attention wandered back our way.

  Chapter Three

  HE CHOSE the chicken place over the Chinese. I should’ve argued, but I didn’t. We sat in a booth by the window, a bucket of Original Recipe and an assortment of sides between us. I ate. There was nothing else to do, and I was hungry. Plus, fuck it. This shit was good. Cheap and filthy. I could appreciate that now and again.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and looked around. The restaurant was empty except for a couple of teenagers in the back and an old guy cradling his small coffee like it was the Holy Grail.

  “So this is where you wished to bring me? Am I supposed to be impressed?”

  I washed a bite of mac and cheese down with a swig of Dr Pepper and glanced at my reflection in the dirty plexiglass. With no one’s desires to shape me, I was nondescript: fairly handsome, average face, short hair. Forgettable. I didn’t like that. Of course, overlaid on that image was the real me, and I liked that appearance—though it would make every mortal in this place soak their trousers. But I found no one to draw on, except maybe the pimply kid behind the register, and I didn’t really want to be a cigarette or Bugs Bunny in Viking drag. I wondered what my companion saw. Could he perceive the pale skin, the pink eyes, and the long silver hair? The horns? Humans who could see me as I really was were one in a hundred million. After all, that only happened when their greatest desire was the truth.

  And most mortals ran from the truth like it was a big angry bastard with a flamethrower and a hard-on.

  “You’re supposed to be safe.” Manners dictated I look at him before taking the last biscuit, but he wasn’t interested in the food. Hadn’t touched it.

  “Aren’t you gallant. I’m to assume I’m safer here than at the other human tavern? Why?”

  I muffled a belch with my sleeve. “You ask a lot of questions. Eat some coleslaw and let me think.”

  “I fear if I did that we would be here for a decade’s worth of mortal time.”

  “Ha-fucking-ha, arsehole.”

  The fey swept his perfect hair off his shoulder. “You’re vulgar.”

  I knew it was true. The only filter I ever had was that lent to me by the whims of others. If someone wanted prim and proper, I could be a fucking vicar. But without that shaping influence, I tended towards straightforward. Blunt. Besides….

  “And your people are paragons of virtue?”

  He blinked twice. Even his eyelashes were white. They were enchanting, like fine lace. “I don’t have to explain my people to you. You’re my servant now.”

  “Is that what you want?” I asked him. “Someone obedient? Docile?” The shapers of the world, those with true power, tended to prefer equals, a challenge, but I could do submissive. Some direction would be nice. It could already feel the lack of it affecting me, pulling my thoughts all over the place, making me more distractible than usual.

  “You can’t tell?”

  I used my pinky to push the dark chicken bones on my paper plate. “No. Not with you. It’s not a comfortable sensation for me. I feel a bit out of my element.”

  He stared at me awhile before he spoke. “Why were you so adamant about leaving that human gathering?”

  “You don’t know? No, you wouldn’t. When was the last time you were here?” I waved my hand to indicate the mortal world.

  He gave me a pitying look, his eyes wide and his little rosebud mouth puckered. I liked his lips—pale pink at the center but lined in that muted blue. “Time passes differently in this realm than it does in my own.”

  “Do you remember Rome?”

  “Rome.” His changeable eyes glazed as he looked out the grease-streaked window. “The dancing. They threw such lovely little soirees. And the noblewomen snuck out to the forests to court our favor.” The fey wiggled his long, pale fingers in front of his face. “Burned dead animals and such.”

  “Well, that’s been about two thousand years. Most of the mages now agree that something happened around that time, some kind of schism. Human magic users went underground. Your kind started to disappear. You know anything about that?”

  “What is there to know?” He looked around pointedly. “Very little has changed. The mortals still huddle in their crumbling abodes, eating spoilt carcasses. Burning things that smell bad to stave off the cold. It’s distressingly dull.”

  “Actually, a great many things have changed.” I took a sip of my drink. “I�
�ve been around, and I’ve watched it happen. I’ll give you a brief summary, if you want.”

  “What else have I got to amuse myself with?”

  “I’d hate to bore you.”

  “Then don’t,” he said.

  I don’t get irritated easily. It’s my nature to sense people’s quirks and avoid what they dislike, but this arrogant son of a bitch…. And the second one in as many hours.

  Tonight was not shaping up to be my night. Seemed like everyone was determined to be as much fun as a tick latched on to my bollocks.

  I took a breath, closed my eyes for a few seconds. “Okay. Octavian declared himself Caesar, called himself Augustus. Lots of things happened as a result, but the ones that are important to me and you are these: the magic users started to retreat. They bowed out of government, sort of snuck off the scene. No more priestesses and augurs advising emperors, no wizards on the battlefield. Then Christianity took root—it was this little cult out of a Roman province, but it gathered a lot of power. Its followers weren’t big fans of those who had dominance over nature, and things only went in the shitter with time. The nymphs disappeared from the oceans; the dryads abandoned their springs. As the years passed, things got worse and worse for the humans. Many only lived two or three decades before they died.

  “But in the meantime, the magic users broke off into sects. They bided their time, and by staying hidden, many of them survived some very bad stretches, times when they would’ve been killed if they’d practiced openly. Some of them only wanted to preserve knowledge, but others gathered some real power, and they used it to influence things from behind the scenes. Some of them are still doing just that, unbeknownst to the population at large.”

  He blew a puff of air out his aquiline nose, his nostrils flaring. “Mortal politics. Dull and ridiculous as it gets. I’ve never understood why they expend so much effort to garner influence when they’ll be dead before they get a chance to enjoy the fruits of their labors. So they’re still at it? Poking each other with pointy sticks over petty disagreements?”