Page 213 of Castings & Curses

“So you planned to bring me here?” I asked and surrendered my bag to the hook that was moving about as if impatient to grab something.

“This castle has been passed down for many generations of my family. The type of grass, every plant, every animal, the very objects that have been procured through purchase or other means are here for a reason.” He indicated a portrait above the fireplace in the main room similar to a living room. “There. They are the owners of this place. I am merely its current keeper.” He did a slight bow of his head. “She may wish to see you.”

“Like, at dinner or—”

“I never know. They come and go in their spiritual forms as they please.” He motioned with his hand, and I followed him to what may have been a kitchen filled with servants at some point. He moved his hand and began speaking in a language I was not familiar with. The kitchen bustled to life and as if there were ghostly servants doing the work, dishes moved, food relocated, the fire to the oven lit, and Professor Roark said, “Let’s have a seat in the library, shall we? Seems like a good place to spend our time as the food is prepared.”

“I’d like something to drink if—”

A tea kettle screamed to life and the next thing I knew, a hot cuppa was being floated to me. Before I could ask, he said, “Two lumps.”

How the hell did he know that?I accepted my tea and thanked the air as I followed this increasingly mysterious man to the library.

“Have a seat, Miss Wilder.”

This was going to drive me crazy. “Peach. At this point, you can just call me Peach. You know what I am. You know what I want. And you know what happened in that dream I had while sitting in your office, don’t you?”

He accepted a floating glass of a dark liquid and then took a seat adjacent mine. “I do.”

I gulped. “Why am I here?”

“As in on this plane of existence or—”

“In this castle, Professor Roark.”

“Damien.” He nodded and took a sip. “I think formalities are officially over between us, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what to think.” I admitted.

“You know me, Peach. I know you. We are ourselves and yet, there is another life that we have lived before this one.” He took a sip. “I used to think my grandfather was just teasing me. He said I was marked. I would be the one to find you, bring you home.”

I wasn’t drinking the tea, but the warm liquid was touching my lip as I used the cup to shield my response. I finally took a sip and swallowed that and his information slowly. “Are we.” I thought I had been afraid of myself, of what I could do to him, what he could do to me, but now. I had an even greater fear looming. I gulped and asked, “Related?”

His lips twitched and then he genuinely smiled. He was humored by my question and the longer he waited to answer, the more I could feel the blush creep along my flesh until I thought I was hotter than the liquid in the cup.

Before I caught myself or the chair on fire, he chuckled and said, “No, Peach. We are definitely not related.”

“Why would you wait so long to confirm that?” I asked. If I could throw something at him, I would.

“I like to see you blush.” He sipped his drink.

I felt my flesh burn even hotter.

“I wasn’t sure. I spent most of my life thinking my grandfather was crazy and there was no such thing as a succubus, but then I met one. Not you. Before I met you. You’re different than he was.” He held his cup out to the side and the drink was refilled.

“He?” I perked up. That would make more sense. A mate of my own species.

“Yes. There is an entire species of succubus that get to choose their gender if they choose to gender at all. Some stay ambiguous so they may feed at will and disguise themselves as either. Some have preferences for appearance. Most don’t bother with the human-like features we reflect due to our mixed heritage with that realm and species.” He explained and a few books on the shelf popped out and back in place indicating he had done research on the topic.

He sipped his drink and then said, “And then there is you, Peach. An anomaly born or reborn only once in a blue moon. Literally, you have to be born to a succubus female impregnated by a wizard under a red moon and then you are born under a blue moon and the reason you were given to witches is because the mother cannot survive, not because she will destroy her offspring.”

That book did the same show of sliding out and slipping back into place on the shelf.

“A wizard?” I didn’t know what else to say. It was overwhelming to hear this as a different version of my origin story. I had the book back in my dorm room telling me one thing and this man sitting here telling me I am a reincarnation of the woman in the portrait above the fireplace and he is the reincarnation of the man.

“A wizard and a red moon have to perform the ceremony, call for her spirit to be born.” He shrugged. “I guess they got word I was around and five years later, there you are, born and raised by witches. Neither of us knowing the other existed. Both of us heading to the same institution. Me, to settle down, figuratively more than literally. You to fulfill your dreams of teaching. It was, as my grandfather would say, inevitable.”

“You sound thrilled.” I pointed out the obvious.

---