Page 31 of The Succubi's Choice

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The drive home is silent, and Miri drives so Gabriel doesn’t have to, as he keeps his hands tightly around the security camera hard drive he insisted they pull.

Once back at the apartment, when she’s fishing in her purse for the keys, he finally speaks.

“I called Lundy.”

“I know.” She jingles the keys once, the weight comforting, before unlocking the door.

Inside, she almost wants to cry when the familiar smell of home hits her, and she flops over on the couch, drained, but both Jacqueline and Gabriel hover over her.

“I’m tired,” she says, her voice small, as if that will be enough to stop their curiosity. She pushes herself up, hugging her knees to her chest. “Gabe, what’d you tell her?”

“That you’re a supernatural creature and a demon abducted you.” Jacqueline sits down, prim and proper, at the kitchen table. Like she collected herself on the drive over. “And that Mr. Lundy is your controller -“

“—Handler—" Miri interrupts.

“And that you were in danger.” Jacqueline shoots a frosty look to Gabriel, the sort of look she usually reserves for wayward students and people who talk in the library. “And then he tried to call people but nobody came.”

“He said he was on his way. And close,” Gabriel bursts out. “He should’ve —"

“He showed up, the demon...” A ball forms in the back of her throat, like his actions were hers and she should be ashamed of them. “He apparently took the memory of the phone call out of his mind? So he drove away? I don’t know?”

Gabriel blanches, then sits, cross-legged, on the floor.

“He called you a succubi?” Jacqueline says, her scholastic voice back in force, like this is a thing to study and dissect and understand.

“Yep.” Miri leans her head back on the couch with a thunk, wishing she could just go to sleep. “I consume people’s life force through sex for sustenance.” She’s quoting the handbook, but Jacqueline doesn’t need to know that. “I technically can hypnotize anyone to fuck me, but I don’t, cause consent is a thing.”

Jacqueline nods, her eyes narrowed. “Hence the clubs and bars.” She very carefully doesn’t look at Gabriel. “And the late nights out with your ‘handler’.” She doesn’t quite put the air quotes around the name, but it’s close.

“Pretty much.” She takes the blankets she left there from the days laying on the couch and pile them on top of her. “Can we do the whole question and answer thing tomorrow? I got threatened by a demon.”

“Shouldn’t it be succubus? As the singular?”

Miri blinks at her, at what she’s choosing to care about. “I’ve always just used succubi?”

“Is there a trustworthy primary source I can study?” Jacqueline asks.

“Gabe has one. Somewhere.”

Gabriel rises and goes into his room, before bringing back a weathered packet of papers that has to be close to 10 years old at this point. Jacqueline takes it without meeting his eyes.

“Don’t show that to anyone, don’t tell anyone...please.” Miri feels small, feels small for begging, but at this point she doesn’t even know what to do. “There’s a reason it’s secret.”

Jacqueline gives her an equally frosty look, before crossing her legs and opening the packet on the kitchen table, quickly getting absorbed in it.

It’s full of clinical language, the sort of language that makes Miri feel like an animal instead of a person, but if it means she can get out of the conversation she’ll take it.

“Miri,” Gabriel whispers, as if Jacqueline wouldn’t hear them, despite them all being in the same tiny room. “Miri, did I kill someone?”

“No,” she answers, and Gabriel’s shoulders sag with relief. “I think he self-heals. He wasn’t even dizzy outside.”

“Did he hurt you?” Gabriel gestures to his throat, where Miri had been grabbed and lifted, and her hands ghost up to the area.

The skin is slightly tender to the touch, but there’s no obvious burn or anything, just the lingering feeling of heat.

“I don’t think so,” she says, but even that feels like a bit of a lie. “He was cryptic, I don’t understand what he wanted, it’s...” She swallows, hard. “I don’t understand.”

“And Lundy doesn’t remember I called?”

She shakes her head, the wool of the blanket almost too scratchy against her skin. “I’ll find a way to tell him, I don’t know, but...something.”

It feels false, but....but there’s not much she can do, so she shuffles down deeper into the blankets and tries to ignore the world.

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