Page 108 of The Succubi's Choice

Miri’s breath catches in her throat, and she hears a similar catch in the Archdemon’s chest. Strange, that. That someone possessing a body could have all the same physical hang ups.

“It’s strange what you do not know,” the Archdemon says, his voice only a little bit affected, only a little bit less than polished. He stands, a little bit straighter, not moving the hand from Miri.

Her eyes skate down to Miri’s arm, to the visible black marks, then up to Miri’s face. “You did substantially well, under torture.”

There’s an ice in Miri’s stomach, but a different type, close to terror. “You knew I couldn’t charm him, it’s not possible.” She has way more steel in her voice than in her spine.

“It was an obvious explanation.” The woman wrings her hands, in an obvious motherly act. “There was no other reason...” She falls silent, seeing something on the Archdemon’s face.

But then she straightens, the helpless middle-aged woman act melting away like snow under a jet stream. “I can have you fired, Miri,” she starts. “I can make it so you can no longer contact your friends. I can make it so you slowly starve, unable to feed without explicit permission. I can lock you up.” Her mouth curves up into a smile. “I cannot threaten you, Thomas, but there are other things I can do.”

Miri has a split second to feel dismayed, a split second where her stomach drops, before she reaches out, snatching one of Beatriz’s hands. “Stop talking!” Her charm arcs into the woman, and her eyes shine gold, her mouth forming a small ‘o’ of surprise.

But she falls silent, her lips still moving, like she wishes she could speak, but no words come.

There’s a quick intake of breath from her Archdemon, but Miri doesn’t let herself think about that.

“Hand me your phone,” she says, keeping the hand on Beatriz’s and her charm sparks around their joined touch.

Mechanically, she slips her extra hand into her pocket, withdrawing her phone, but her eyes are wide.

“Unlock it with your fingerprint, but do nothing else.” Miri’s voice quivers, for a second, but she follows her instruction, hands sure.

Miri thumbs over to the recording program, one that’s obviously going with the entire evening worth of conversation recorded, and...deletes it. Deletes the recording, deletes the cached copy, and deletes the program.

Her hand starts to shake, but she doesn’t dare drop the connection, instead looking over to Not-Thomas.

His eyes are wide, his eyebrows raised, but not...not in a bad way. In an impressed way. Like he’s regarding her with some sort of respect he’s never fully discovered before.

“You can erase some memories, right?” She asks, and she can feel Beatriz’s wrist flex in hers, out of some barely contained horror.

He smiles at her, slow and ruthless, the grin unfolding and expanding. “Yes I can.”

“Answer me this,” Miri locks eyes with the woman, another spark of her charm going through her hand, stinging. “Did you have any other record of this?”

Again, her lips move, before she shakes her head, her eyes flashing gold and terror.

The Archdemon plucks the phone out of Miri’s hand, idly scrolling through the text messages, and the woman’s wrist flexes in Miri’s hand again, but she can’t do anything, can’t get out of the charm.

After a long moment, the Archdemon hands it back. “Very interesting, Beatriz,” he says, laconic. “I think I learned something.”

Then, with no visible magic, no waving of the hand, no outward show of power, her face goes slack, all control gone from it, her shoulders slumping, like she’s been given a tranquilizer.

“Tell her to go back in the room then drop her hand, Miri,” the Archdemon says, his voice low, rich.

Her heart pounding, Miri does, and Beatriz follows her instruction like a puppy, soft and not at all intimidating.

The moment the door clicks shut behind her, the Archdemon grips Miri’s shoulder, and with a puff of air they’re a block away from Miri’s apartment, in the pre-dawn sodium lights and the broken concrete.

Stark, Miri shivers, hugging herself, and Not-Thomas sheds his suit jacket and places it over her shoulders. “Well that was interesting,” he says, light, and there’s no other way to describe his voice but happy. “I would have thought she’d have protection against that.”

Miri can’t look at him, so instead she clutches the jacket to her and stares at the familiar cracks in the sidewalk, not wanting to move to go inside. “I can’t believe I did that,” she blurts, and now that she’s said it, the weight of it crushes down. “Oh my god I just did that.”

“You got yourself out of trouble,” he says, unconcerned, and she sits down, hard, on the curb, the fabric of the dress slithering around her.

“Oh my god.” She buries her face in her hands, and her heart starts pounding. “I charmed an Organization official for personal gain. Oh my god.”

The Archdemon folds himself to sit next to her, long legs lanky on the sidewalk. “She was threatening you?” He says, puzzled, like he truly can’t quite grasp what the problem is. “That’s...that’s what your charm is primarily for.”

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