Legacy of the Succubus Read online

  Legacy of a Succubus

  Kim Schubert

  Facebook: thekimschubert

  Website: www.kimschubert.com

  Copyright © Kim Schubert 2017

  Ebook Cover Design by http://www.ebooklaunch.com

  Smashwords Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The Succubus Executioner Series

  Dead Shifter Walking, The Succubus Executioner Book 1

  Demigod Down, The Succubus Executioner Book 2

  A Witch’s Fury, The Succubus Executioner Book 3

  A Council of Betrayal, The Succubus Executioner Book 4

  Death of a Succubus, The Succubus Executioner Book 5

  Other books by Kim Schubert:

  The Mel Files

  Dedication

  These books would still be running around my head without the support and no-nonsense approach of my husband. I couldn’t do it without you!

  To my kids, who I’ll one day have to explain what a “romance” novel actually entails.

  To everyone who has taken this amazing journey with me, thank you. Your support means the world to me. I know you love these charters as much as I do.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Connect with me!

  Chapter 1

  Eventually, Tommy and I made our way down from the roof of Halfling. I paused, watching him walk back among the few remaining guests at Grams’s wake. Or funeral, or whatever the fuck word appropriately conveyed that she was dead and gone forever. My heart constricted painfully, my gaze sweeping the interior of the nightclub turned funeral parlor, or … whatever.

  Kass had done a good job with the place—solid wood tables and chairs, new lighting, and an updated sound system. My gaze landed on Logan’s wide back, his black jacket stretched taut. I didn’t recognize who he was speaking to. I debated a moment, unsure if I wanted to sink into his embrace or drink. Alcohol won.

  The bartender finished wiping down a glass and looked up at me. “What can I get ya?”

  “Something strong,” I requested, leaning against the wood, tilting my body to watch Logan. He felt it. I knew it.

  My head throbbed lightly and I checked my shields, finding them weakening. Rubbing my temple and grinding my jaw, I willed them to stay in place.

  “Stop forcing it,” Anna advised as she plopped herself next to me, her fire red hair cut short in an adorable bob. Deadly, but adorable. Her blue eyes slid over to the bartender.

  “I’ll have what she’s having,” she demanded.

  “A please wouldn’t hurt,” I reminded her, massaging my temple again.

  She turned her icy blue stare at me, raising one crimson eyebrow. I responded with my own intense, sea green gaze. With a huff that fluffed her bangs, she turned back to the bartender, who was watching our exchange with interest as he worked.

  “Pleeeeease,” she drew out the word, her inflection making it sound insulting.

  He didn’t acknowledge her, setting our drinks down on pristine white napkins.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, before taking a large gulp.

  Anna sat on the leather padded stool, never ceasing to survey the room with her gaze, ankles crossed in her black dress.

  “Is that my dress?” I asked, pulling at the sleeve.

  She shrugged, “I didn’t pack for a funeral.”

  I grunted a response, turning away from her and pulling my drink closer. The cool liquid between my palms helped take my mind off the growing throbbing in my temples.

  “Stop forcing it,” Anna repeated, slowly and clearly. I glared at her.

  “I don’t have time to build them up slowly. Nor do I have the desire to influence those around us.” Being shot and almost dying had destroyed my guards. Guards I needed to survive and blend into society. Otherwise, everyone within a mile would be at the mercy of my volatile emotions.

  As succubi, our greatest strength rested in our ability to push and pull emotions. Granted, Anna and I were only half succubus, we now knew; we had previously thought we were pureblood lab creations of the late and demented Selena.

  Our mother was the ruling Queen Bitch of the red hell our people had been shoved into lifetimes ago by the once powerful witches.

  My father and Anna’s traded us to Selena.

  “Whatever you are thinking about is seriously pissing you off,” Anna commented, taking a sip.

  I groaned, putting the cool glass to my lips and finishing off the contents. I set the glass down with a loud click before turning to her and throwing my shields up again, the throbbing in my head doubling.

  Cracking my neck, I asked, “Better?”

  She shrugged, sipping her drink daintily.

  “So, I’ve been thinking about my living situation,” she began, cradling her drink between her hands as she looked over at me.

  I was tempted to tell her this was hardly the time, but I needed the distraction. I could feel Logan probing at me and I was tempted to shield myself from him. He didn’t need my misery and pain, but I lacked the strength.

  I hoped he wasn’t picking up on that. We had been doing so well lately. Even though our mating wasn’t planned or discussed, I secretly liked the fact that he was stuck with me forever. I knew I wasn’t an easy person to deal with. Having the security of the mate mark, or in my case two mate marks, put me at ease.

  Which meant I probably should have felt bad for Logan.

  “Yeah, you should start paying rent,” I told her, signaling the bartender for another drink.

  She huffed at me, “You must be joking.”

  “Running the mansion and keeping the kids clothed and fed isn’t cheap. Besides, what about your law practice in New York?”

  She shrugged. “I may just leave it. I certainly wasn’t a partner. My cases have already been reassigned.”

  I probed her nonchalant attitude, wondering why the sudden change. I had expected her to hightail it from town as soon as I was vertical.

  “You want to be part of this circus now?” I asked. She hadn’t when we escaped from Selena. The only thing she’d wanted then was a normal life. The chance to forget about the hell we had endured at Selena’s hands. I couldn’t blame her, but I also couldn’t change who and what I was.

  “The Oracle,” she began, rolling the glass between her hands. “She might have made a few solid points about me.”

  I said nothing, accepting my refill from the bartender and taking a large belt, rolling the amber liquid about my mouth.

  I felt her waiting on me, but I didn’t have much to say to that. The Oracle, while annoying with her games, was direct in her observations. Whatever she’d said to Anna had hit home.

  “You could always pick up cases to make rent,” I suggested.

  She turned to me, surprise evident in her face. Unlike me, she wasn’t broadcasting her emotions. I took her advice and let my guards down slightly, feeling the throbbing in my temples ease. I mirrored Anna’s position, my hands cradling th
e drink as we leaned against the bar.

  “How many cases?” Anna asked.

  I shrugged. “Depends on how long each case takes you. Although I’ll warn you, don’t try to mooch off me. I will evict you.”

  She chuckled, raising her glass in a toast. “To hell and back, and same Olivia.”

  “Some things never change,” I agreed.

  Anna turned as Logan crossed the distance between us. “And some things do,” she whispered softly.

  Logan raised a caramel eyebrow, his black jacket stretched across broad shoulders and down to a tapered waist. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his shifter warmth.

  “You doing okay?” he asked softly against my ear.

  I nodded. “Anna was just brainstorming jobs she can pick up.”

  I felt Logan’s annoyance through the mate bond.

  “You are staying?” he asked her.

  “Yep,” the word was clipped from her and I shook my head. I needed to ask what had happened between them.

  Logan grunted, sparing her a long and pointed look before turning to me. “Are you ready to go?”

  I nodded, finishing my drink.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find my own ride home,” Anna called out to us.

  “I wasn’t,” I answered.

  “The kids?” I asked softly as we exited into the dying light of the evening.

  “Hudson took them home,” Logan stated, unlocking the SUV.

  I grunted, seeing my own SUV parked in the lot as well. Frickin’ Anna.

  I slipped into the passenger seat with an annoyed huff.

  “Do you want to talk about what’s going on between you and Anna?” I asked.

  Logan sighed, sparing me a glance as he backed up the vehicle.

  “I don’t like her.”

  “I picked up on that.”

  He gave me a half smile. “She showed up while I was out of town, was difficult with Tommy, ordered everyone around, got you kidnapped, and wouldn’t check on Darren. Do I need additional reasons?” he asked me.

  I turned, looking out the window and mulling it over. “I’d like for you two to get along. She’s a vital part of my past and you are my future.”

  Logan said nothing so I continued on, “But I suppose I understand. If the situation was reversed, I’d have a hard time accepting her, too.”

  After all, I still had reservations about Hudson, Logan’s cousin. He’d better hope he didn’t step out of line in front of me. I wasn’t above killing him for doing a piss poor job as the Western Compass Alpha and letting a rebellion shoot me.

  Logan had taken care of everything while my soul was gallivanting on a scavenger hunt in the strange, red-laden dimension of the succubi. I drummed my fingers on the center console, my mind slowly turning back to business.

  “What do you think will happen to Kitten?” I asked.

  He shrugged, resting his large, warm palm over my own to still my fingers.

  “Grams made Hash her beneficiary for all her assets,” Logan reminded me.

  “What if she was bluffing?” I questioned.

  Logan shifted in the driver’s seat, turning to gauge my interest in the matter. “You’ve never been concerned with Kitten before.”

  “Green light,” I informed him.

  A smile grew on his face, until I raised an eyebrow and pointed out the windshield. He grunted, turning his attention back to the road.

  It was my turn to shift uneasily. “That was before. When Grams still had control of it, I don’t know, it felt right, natural. I don’t want someone I don’t know running the club.”

  Logan nodded silently, finally saying, “I don’t know if Grams’s attorney will release that information to us.”

  But his silent communication was far stronger: Let it go.

  I should have. It was just a brick-and-mortar building. I could make another one, hell I could build twenty, but sentimentality had me wanting the original. I knew Hash had a wife. How could she possibly plan on managing a club full of succubi?

  I could make them all quit, but that seemed petty. Even for me.

  The rest of the drive back was uneventful. It was still early by our standards, and while I wanted to lie in bed and forget everything, there were several unresolved issues that would have followed me there.

  “I thought I’d find you in here,” I said to my father’s hunched form in the library.

  “Tommy attempted to teach me how to look on-line,” he said, forming the word with distaste, “but I find the simplest of forms the best.”

  I nodded, sitting across from him at my favorite writing desk. We had found it at an estate auction; Logan was certain it was haunted. The intricately carved legs alone were a labor of love, the thick top refinished to a perfect shine. Plus, there was a lion crest carved into the chair. It was meant to be ours.

  “How was your funeral?” He asked the question offhandedly, but I felt his interest. I was hopeful it was in my well-being.

  I shrugged, picking lint off my black dress, not wanting to meet his gaze, not wanting to show the weakness of my tear-stained eyes. “It’s done,” I forced, my voice betraying my ragged emotions.

  I lifted my gaze to find him studying me. I stared into eyes a perfect color match for my own.

  “Your guards are better,” he kindly changed the subject.

  I rubbed my temple. “It’s taking a lot out of me.”

  He nodded, watching me closely. “It didn’t before?”

  I shook my head.

  “Are there any other changes you have noticed?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “The mate bond has changed. Before, I had access to everyone’s thoughts. Now I only can communicate with Logan silently.”

  My father nodded, closing the leather-bound book with a long sigh, drumming his fingers on it.

  “Not finding what you needed?” I questioned, hopelessness welling inside of me.

  “No.” He drummed his fingers faster, thinking. “I need the books from my library.”

  I nodded, dropping my arms into my lap and resting my back against the chair. I was trying not to cross my arms over my chest, trying not to take a defensive position for what I knew was coming.

  “I don’t have things in order for the mermaids. I do have a lead on the land for the unicorns, but it’s not where we originally agreed,” I treaded carefully.

  He rubbed his forehead, leaning back in his own chair.

  “He hasn’t recovered yet,” announced Doyle the minotaur, stomping on cloven feet in the same green tunic and trimmed brown leather he’d been wearing since we met. I looked over his salt and pepper fur, wondering if he bathed.

  “Doyle, do you want other clothing?” I asked. I had largely ignored both of them to deal with the attack of the rogues and Grams’s death.

  I looked at my father, still dressed in his clothing from the red world. “Both of you?” I amended.

  “Where do you suppose we’ll find clothing for a minotaur?” my father asked. “Even in our world, that was a challenge.”

  I shrugged, “I can find a seamstress who can make him whatever he wants.”

  “Will I have to be hidden?” Disgust was laced heavily around that last word.

  “You don’t like the cloaking spells?” I asked.

  Doyle shook his black and silver head.

  I almost told him too fucking bad, I don’t have time to handle your identity issues along with everything else. But I stopped myself, rubbing a finger against my bottom lip.

  “You certainly don’t have to be cloaked for the clothing, but going out in public is bound to cause issues.”

  The library door pushed opened and they both turned. I knew Logan was approaching, feeling my angst at the situation.

  “We should hold a press conference, Olie. It’s the simplest way to deal with him being here, straight on. It also wouldn’t hurt to address the humans now that things have settled down.” Logan, always the problem solver.

  I grunt
ed, nodding. I didn’t enjoy being in the public eye. We succubi still hadn’t come out of the Supernatual closet quite yet. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure I ever planned on it. There was safety in our silence and we fit into the human population easily.

  The door opened again and this time Grant popped his head in.

  “I’m sorry to do this now, Olie, but we’ve got a problem.” His eyes were bloodshot. Grant and Ali now ruled the Supernatural Council in Grams’s place. The three of them had been very close. I had thought Grant and Ali might walk when she left, but at the end of the day, Grams had sided with the late, Supe-hating Governor Hash. Ali and Grant were more exotic Supernaturals, like myself.

  My father’s chair and mine scraped in unison as we stood. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “The Vampire High Council is flying in and requests a meeting with you,” Grant said, his eyes serious behind his glasses.

  I grunted.

  Logan looked and felt worried.

  “They need to fix their damn mess,” I said.

  “Things are never that simple with the vampires,” Logan warned. He was right, but damn if I was going to admit it out loud.

  “Alright. Logan, schedule the press conference. Grant, schedule a meeting with the vampires. Magician, Doyle, I’ll work on getting you both clothing.”

  “Uhh,” Grant began.

  “What?” I asked, a little too sharply.

  “The vampires will only talk with you. I have them on hold in my office.”

  I laughed, shocked. “You put the High Council on hold?”

  Even Logan chuckled.

  “Alright, let’s go, this is going to be priceless.”

  Logan, still in his black dress pants, walked next to me to Ali and Grant’s office in the other wing of the house. We hadn’t done much in the way of decorating, but the kids had put up random posters sporadically.

  “Who is One Direction?” I asked, passing boys in bad need of a haircut.

  “Some British group,” Grant muttered. “Cindy is obsessed with them.”

  I nodded. “You should call Jerry,” Logan offered. “I bet he would have an idea on who to call for clothing for Doyle.”