Page 44 of The Succubi's Choice

And yeah, for a young adult looking at a very short life from a painful disease, that would be pretty cool. “Gonna be really honest here,” she says, cause the days already had too many half-truths and too many secrets. “My job totally wants me to find out as much information as I can about him because they want to know what the fuck he’s up to.”

Thomas blinks, slowly, and even his lashes are dusty brown. “Well,” he says, like this is just an awkward conversation. “Mostly I don’t know.”

“They still want me to try, and your roommate is super confusing about it. Keeps on inviting me places and shit.” She takes another bite of the ice cream, because it’s there and she’s had a rough day. “I don’t get why.”

“Why not?” Thomas asks, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. “Why wouldn’t he invite you?”

She hesitates for a split second and does a quick look around. “Because I’m just a succubi, and even in the culture of not-normal people, I’m not a big deal. I’m the opposite of a big deal. He would be able to end me in like a thought, so I don’t know why he’d bother with the...everything.”

Thomas absorbs this information, thinking before responding. “Do you want to go on a walk?” He asks, pushing his empty ice cream container away. “It’s warm out, it should be comfortable for you.”

“Did he tell you about the warmth thing?” She asks, grabbing her own ice cream and standing. “Cause it’s not exactly something in most textbooks.”

* * *

He takesher down a few busy streets, to a nice neighborhood with a greenway and a bike trail, and she follows, because what else can she do at this point. She’s not sure if he’s worried about being overheard or needs the fresh air or...or what.

She’s not quite worried about being murdered, but she’s not not-worried.

They walk in silence for a few minutes, in the setting sun, before he looks back at her. “The first thing I noticed, when this whole thing happened,” he gestures at himself, “is that he’s incredibly lonely.”

That’s not exactly what she expected to hear.

“He would spend almost all night out, trying to connect and figure out all that had changed, and it would leave him raw.” Thomas seems to shrug into himself, as if this is difficult to describe. “We get sorta...emotional hangovers from whatever the other was dealing with, and his would always be that.”

“Wow,” Miri says, cause that sounds pretty damn shitty, before she kicks a pebble down the greenway trail. “Are you saying that this all powerful Archdemon is talking to me because he’s lonely?”

“It’s a possibility,” Thomas says. “If you look at it from his perspective, he’s been dormant for a while, and then the world is massively different and fucking money is different and he’s trying to not be obsolete.” He too kicks a pebble down the greenway. “He complains about money a lot on post-it notes. He’ll bring home stacks of money and write “fuck this fucking currency” with a post-it note on it.”

“Well that’s certainly a lot of personality,” Miri says, and it’s the perfect temperature out at the moment, but with the threat to turn cold at every breeze. “Stacks of money?”

“Like, comical stacks. Like the things you see in cartoon briefcases,” he gestures, widely, with his hands, and his shoulders are down and relaxed in a way that Miri doesn’t see on anyone. “I mean, I don’t complain, but he doesn’t trust bank accounts so it makes paying rent real awkward.”

“And he just lets you do whatever you want?” Miri asks, because that’s been a question poking at the back of her mind. “He doesn’t stop you or direct you to do anything?”

Thomas shakes his head, quick, before equivocating. “He asked me to stay in Los Angeles, but nothing more. As long as I don’t fight him for control, I get to do what I want, and...” Another carefree shrug. “It’s like a nap, each time he takes control, I don’t mind.”

“My friend shot you. Him. That body,” Miri blurts out. “You were bleeding pretty bad and he did nothing.”

“That’s happened a few times,” Thomas says, and she wishes to achieve that level of casualness about anything in her life. “But he doesn’t take control when I’m at class, or when I’m dating or say I have plans. Unless it’s an emergency, and that’s only happened once, and he apologized.”

“Does he have a name?” The question falls out of Miri’s lips.

Thomas shrugs, because of course he doesn’t have an answer and of course he doesn’t feel like he needs an answer.

“I’ve never asked, to be fair,” Thomas says, and every word of his feels refreshingly honest. “I’m sure he’s been referred to things before, but I don’t know them.”

Miri sneaks a glance at him, and he’s just...walking with her. Nonplussed. As if talking about this is super simple and easy and non-stressful.

“So you think you’re low on the totem pole?” Thomas asks, interrupting her thoughts. “The whole ranking thing’s got me confused.”

And this, at least, she can talk about in official terms. “It’s not a ranking system, just categorizations. It’s just...I can’t do anything special. Just have sex with humans.”

He blinks, slow, bemused, and she takes pity on him.

“In a world where demons and demigods exist, I can’t even heal a papercut.” She tries to smile at him, but it probably looks dishonest. “I can’t teleport, I can’t change memories, I can’t twist time and space to my will...”

“What would you do if you could charm the president?” He asks, his voice sly, giving her a smile.

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