Page 29 of The Succubi's Choice

He says it like it’s an interesting observation instead of such an earth-shattering thing for her.

“Yeah well, they thought it was dangerous for me, with you about.”

He blinks, but not out of surprise at the statement, more that she would say it flat out. “I’m not a danger to those in the system,” he says, and his voice is again intimate, like he’s letting her into a secret, like he hadn’t just threatened her. “You can let them know that, let them know I said that.”

“I’m not a messenger,” she breathes out, her eyes drawn to the bullet wounds, still pumping out blood, his entire shirt slick and saturated with viciously wet blood.

Instinctive, she reaches a hand out, and the wet blood is still hot, too warm to the touch, and her throat closes around itself.

“It’s nothing,” he says, unbidden. “It takes more than a few bullets to harm me.”

“That’s...not comforting,” she says, because if she’s harmless and has no real natural defense mechanisms, she can always be sarcastic. “I don’t —"

“Thomas will be okay, as well,” he says, and there’s something truly creepy about hearing him say that in the third person. “By the time he’s here, the bullets will be gone and the bleeding will have stopped, and all he might have is some mild heartburn.”

If they’re calling Lundy, if what this demon is saying is correct, then all she has to do is distract him until they get there, then face whatever consequences happen. All she has to do is keep him talking and keep herself out of harm's way and —

Talking, that’s a thing she can do, that’s a thing she can always do.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” She asks, and her voice still trembles, but she pitches it low like she’s somehow in control of the situation.

He raises an eyebrow, as if seeing right through her. “You can make any human do your bidding, yes?”

And that’s really not the case, but she doesn’t know which answer she should give.

“Not really, it’s not that easy, I don’t think I could make any —"

“And yet you’re letting them restrict your ability to feed?” He interrupts, as if he’s come all the way out this way and threatened Gabriel and got himself shot just to talk about her restrictions. “Don’t you think that’s a little unjust?”

A small part of her hears the cars zoom by on the street, waiting for the one that brings Lundy into the parking lot. “Aren’t you a demon?” She asks, because refocusing and redirecting is safe. “Aren’t you some creature from the deep who punishes?”

“Aren’t you a rampant seductress to bring around the ruin of men?” His face splits into a wide smile. “If we’re going to bring the Bible into it, we have much bigger issues than just stereotypes.”

A car stops at the light, barely visible from where they stand, and it might be Lundy’s ubiquitous minivan. She can’t tell, and she resists leaning to find out. Visibly dividing her attention would be bad.

His smile at her softens to something fond, and it’s way more terrifying coming from a man soaked in blood than she would have thought. “Be careful,” he murmurs, soft. “I know what they’re trying to do with you, I know the trap they’re trying to set.”

“Great,” she says, and despite herself her voice is breathless, still afraid.

“Their traps won’t work.” He’s confident, standing in a dusty gravelly parking lot of a gun range late at night. “When I contact you again, go along with it. Don’t get scared, don’t try to run.”

The light turns green, and the car slowly turns into the parking lot. It’s the minivan and even though she’s going to be in just all the trouble her heart soars at the sight.

“That’s really weird to say, don’t you think?” She says, desperate, as if keeping talking will stop the inevitable punishment and the inevitable fallout and whatever violent thing he may be planning. “I mean, it’s not within my power.”

Lundy parks, right next to her car, where he can obviously easily see them. Through the window, she can see his silhouette, see him preparing.

“You want to see power?” His voice dips down low, and his red eyes flicker over to Lundy’s van, and she grips his arm right back.

“Don’t hurt them,” she breathes, fast. “Don’t hurt them and I’ll do what you ask.”

There’s a moment, where Lundy doesn’t get out.

“Deal,” he says, leaning in close, but his eyes never leave Lundy’s van.

Slowly, as if the world isn’t moving at the correct speed, Lundy restarts his van. It shudders as the engine turns back over, then he pulls out, driving right past them, unconcerned and unnoticing.

She twists around to watch him pull out of the parking lot, before she spins and faces the demon.

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