Page 85 of Infernal Hearts

With the book in my hand, it’s time for some answers. I sit on the couch, take a deep breath, and crack open the cover. One word sits on the front page: incubi.

I take a deep breath, bracing myself, and turn the page.

January 16th, 1946

I am dying.

I have lived a considerably long life abetting magical creatures, researching in droves. But my time is not over yet. I refuse. There is still so much more to learn and so many more to help. I shall not go gently into the night. It is not an option.

My assistant is helping me. One of the most elusive creatures, an incubus, has recently come to town. I know there’s a way he can help me. For now, I’m keeping my distance, but my hope is at an all-time high.

Incubi have a reputation of being feared in the magical community. The potency of their magic is as high as they are few, and probably for good reason. It seeps out of their pores and is easily sensed. The fact that they can charm at will makes things difficult. And in their true form? Almost impossible to reason with.

I need to find a way to protect myself and my assistant from the incubus’ magic. I have a few theories. Runes and sigils, perhaps? It will take some experimentation, and this will be dangerous but worth it. The rewards far outweigh the risk.

So Dane was here, and this Dr. Ambrose had his sights on him from the beginning. It sounds like he had the best intentions, but it also seems like he went off the rails around the end—as seen by the trap in the crypt. This at least tells me I’m on the right trail.

I flip through more pages—observations, mostly. The glowing, purple eyes. The high sex drive. Bringing fortune through attraction. Dane must have cut a few deals here to settle down. After all, he’d always been resourceful.

But Ambrose also caught sight of him in his true form. Ten feet tall, purple skin, gold horns and claws. It’s like that night in the woods with Jay, and the feeling of being exposed roots itself in me. A human was watching him so intently, and managing to do it from such a safe distance to not be sensed. I stop at another journal entry.

February 3rd, 1946

It has been a little over two weeks since I began watching the incubus. The power he wields is fascinating. He is irresistible to everyone who meets him, making it easy for him to find a place to stay in our town. He does not seem to have any intention of leaving anytime soon.

This town has always been a haven for magical creatures, partly thanks to my work. They want easy access to a doctor. It does not surprise me to have such a rare specimen take up root. I’m interested to see what he can contribute to my studies.

I got to meet him in passing at the grocer. He already knew who I was and said he was glad to finally meet me. He said little beyond that, but the energy he put off was borderline overwhelming. It was a comforting feeling, like I never wanted to be out of his presence. A sigil I drew underneath my shirt certainly muffled it. I am glad I did or else I would have embarrassed myself.

My assistant has been hazy on the details surrounding the ritual with the incubus—the one to extend my life. I am hoping he will partake willingly. I have considered approaching him for a deal, but I am not sure it is a risk I’m willing to take. I need something more secure.

I’m starting to think Ambrose didn’t know what he was agreeing to. It may not have been his idea to harm Dane at all. In fact, it sounds like he admired him. Maybe even wanted to befriend him out of fascination. It doesn’t seem like his intentions were to do anything dark.

But the thought crosses my mind—if Ambrose did something sinister, Dane knew his attacker. And that makes it so much worse. But how are these dated back to 1946, yet I felt Dane as clear as day enough to come to this town? Where is he now? Has he been here the whole time?

More pages of reading and the physical properties of an incubus. It seems that Ambrose did indeed befriend Dane and even convinced him to take part in trials with other ailing magical creatures. His blood could cure a multitude of patients over a period of weeks.

My pulse pounds as I keep reading, palms sweating more and more after each page. I’m nervous to keep going, but I can’t stop.

March 20th, 1946

After many weeks of hesitantly approaching him, I have managed to build a relationship with the incubus. He has grown to trust me to a certain degree because of my magical knowledge. Apprehensive at first, I did what I could to show him that I wanted to help him.

He was not sure what I could offer him considering the fact that he said he was already happy. He was away from his Maker after managing to find a way to sever their bond. I am beginning to gather that their relationship was not on the best of terms, more of a master and servant than anything else.

After asking carefully crafted questions, I discovered that it was also a very secretive relationship. Much knowledge had been blocked by the Maker’s magic, forming walls within the incubus’ mind. Through various rituals and magical therapies I have researched over the years, I was able to break these walls and release memories that had long been blocked.

One memory I found most interesting was the self-knowledge of the magic inside the incubus. It works on a cosmic level, like an intricate spider web of hearts and desires connected to other living beings. Some connections are stronger than others, the strongest being to other creatures and especially to other demons. The magic travels through the web and pours from connection to connection, all released and absorbed by rituals they refer to as deals. It is as if a deal opens a faucet from one point to another, only to close again once the result is achieved.

Of all memories, however, the most interesting was how an incubus is created. This secret was heavily buried within the demon’s psyche and took intense energy to unlock it. Similar to a normal ritual used to make a deal, it requires a melding of the souls. The hearts are merged as one momentarily, causing the Maker to weaken temporarily and allow the new demon’s physical body to change.

The incubus was grateful at having his memories restored. It is astounding to me how secretive demon culture can be, even between Makers and new wards. To thank me, he made a copy of the runes used for the ritual and created a step-by-step process for creating more demons. I do not believe this will ever need to be used in the future, but I am glad to have included it in my research notes.

No wonder I can’t remember my own making, and no wonder I feel so lost. I have the memories buried deep inside me, but they’re blocked by that bastard Magnus. I hope they’ll be unlocked once I find my brother, and if not, at least he can show me.

Peace washes over me knowing that I could possibly create another one day, but a burning sensation in my chest eats away at me knowing that this mortal knew more about what I am than I ever have. Plus, would I even want to be a Maker? Doom someone else to this life, even if they thought they knew what they were signing up for?

The excerpts get more and more intense. Predatory. Ambrose often alludes to some different ritual, noting how he doesn’t agree with it but how it must be done. The clock was ticking for this man. I can sense his desperation through his letters.

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