Page 14 of The Succubi's Choice

With another deep breath, cause she wouldn’t be surprised if demons could smell fear, she rings the doorbell.

Inside, there’s a muffled curse, then a thump, something akin to a shin hitting a table, before the door gets swung open.

There’s a beat, as the tall young man takes a look at her, blinking like he hasn’t seen the sun for days. He has a shock of dusty brown hair, freckles across his nose, and light blue eyes.

“Yes?” He asks, after a long moment, clearly looking thrown at her appearance.

She tries to look behind him at the apartment, but he closes his door a bit more so she can’t see. “Hello, I’m here with the Organization, do you have a moment to speak?”

He blinks at her rapidly, as if trying to parse her words together. “I think so?” He sticks out his hand, suddenly. “Thomas Mikael.”

She’s not used to people actually introducing themselves to her. “Miri Patrice, here.” Instead of shaking his hand, she pulls out her badge, a badge that’s vague enough that it looks very official without revealing that supernatural creatures exist to people who don’t already know it. “May I come in?”

His fingers brush hers as he looks at her badge, and with it comes that familiar surge of feeling, that little bit of strange power and the feeling and knowledge that she can charm him.

Just another regular human man.

At least now, the pessimistic voice in the back of her head reminds her. Perilously little is known about how demons actually work, if they actually possess people or just take over their lives, and how and when they decide to take control. Or whether or not their victims are aware, or if they can feel everything, or…

“I haven’t cleaned in like two months, my place is gross,” he says, his lips splitting into a sheepish smile down at her. “There’s...not much of a reason to bring a girl back.”

So Miri fixes him with her best government smile. “It’s fine, I won’t judge, I guarantee you I’ve seen much worse this week.”

Again, he blinks down at her, before throwing an obvious glance back at his room, and her heart thumps a bit. For all she knows, this might not even be who the demon is possessing, and she’s about to run into a trap, one that she can’t get herself out of, and…

“Sure,” he says, opening the door wide. “It’s a mess.”

He isn’t kidding. There are at least five empty pizza boxes, and a stack of paper plates in one corner. A huge mass of wires and cooling systems are hooked up to a giant computer that’s giving off a fair amount of heat, and there’s laundry everywhere. Instead of a stove there’s a single hot pad with a single frying pan on it.

Scraps of paper are pinned to the walls, with two massively different handwriting styles scrawled all over them.

Taking a deep breath, Miri steps through the door, and there’s the familiar sting of wards going down her back the moment she steps in.

Not even bothering to hide it, she cranes her neck and looks at the door jamb. Pasted on sticky notes, there’s an easily identifiable notification rune and another one she’s unfamiliar with.

“Ah, yeah,” Thomas says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, my roommate did those. Hooked them up to my phone.”

“Roommate?” She asks automatically. “Who’s he?”

“He’s not here right now, sorry,” Thomas blurts, and his face looks something akin to panicked. “I mean, he’s out of town.”

Ah. So, if this is a world of possession and split personalities of demons, then, unless she’s mistaken, the demon isn’t in control right now. And that at least suggests that this Thomas wouldn’t know what the hell is going on.

She glances to him, then back at the runes, then back at him. “So,” she starts, keeping an eye on his body language, waiting to see if he tenses up, makes any sudden motions. “Can you tell me what those runes are?”

He stares at her blankly, then shakes his head, smiling again, sheepish. “Sorry? I guess you know about that sort of thing?” His voice is cautious, the same sort of caution that Miri has heard so many times. The dance of trying to figure out exactly how much the other person knows about the strange community, how much they can trust each other, how detailed they can get with each other, how much they can reveal.

She gives him a smile, hopefully one that’s more reassuring than anything else. “I work with human relations to the Organization that keeps track of supernatural or non-natural people,” she says plainly. “I see runes like that every day, does your...roommate...harm you?”

She can practically see the wheels in his brain turning, trying to figure out, making the mental calculations about her, and…

Her skin crawling, not wanting to be there for any longer than possibly needed, she rubs her fingers together in front of his eyes, and they briefly glow gold.

Immediately, his shoulders relax, a muscle unclenching in his back, and his face goes slack.

She reaches out and puts her hand in his, soothing, and he grips her hand back.

“Does your roommate harm you?”

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