Legacy of the Succubus Read online

There was no one waiting to greet me with open arms this time, even if those arms wanted something.

  “How will The Magician know where to open the portal?” Anna asked.

  “He has my hair. It’s apparently tuned in to me or something.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “I don’t understand how it works,” I admitted, scanning the wide expanse of maroon landscape. If we were attacked here, even with our small arsenal, we would be running to the palace.

  “But you need to,” Anna reminded me.

  I sighed. “Yeah, I’m going to be getting a crash course in how to be a magician’s daughter here, I suppose.” Note that I was not excited about it.

  “Are you going to forgive him?” Anna asked with a mix of curiosity and heavy sarcasm. Forgiveness wasn’t an act we performed often or really at all.

  “I’m not sure I can,” I told her honestly.

  Anna nodded. “He’s your father.”

  I grunted, “He sold me.”

  Anna said nothing more on the subject, but she didn’t stay silent as we continued our march. “So, that Mindy is a pistol.”

  I huffed with a laugh, “That she is.”

  “You are going to have your hands full with that one.”

  “She’s human. Mercer is going to have his hands full.”

  Anna laughed. Then, after a pause, “What happened to her parents?”

  “I don’t know. I found her chained in a basement with two sick fuckers. Mercer is her legal guardian now.”

  Anna nodded, and we continued on in silence.

  …

  Logan stared for long moments at the spot where Olivia and Anna had been standing, hearing his own heartbeat rushing in his ears, listening to his beast’s painful wails. Feeling his lion clawing, writhing to be free. To kill and maim until his mate was returned to him. He pulled in another long breath, shaking his head in hopes of clearing it.

  He exhaled, long and slow. Olivia would be okay. She had traveled that world once before, she would come back to him, to their life, to their children. She would come back. Logan took another breath, finding he could hear again.

  He turned to survey the room, finding the Magician and Amin unconscious and sprawled across the coffee table, herbs scattered everywhere.

  “Where’s the damn vacuum?” he muttered.

  …

  Anna and I arrived at the palace without difficulty, entering as I had previously, through the broken window in the forgotten nursery.

  “Whoa,” Anna said softly, turning around. I gave the obviously well loved but dusty nursery a quick glance before I moved to the door. We didn’t have time to waste, and I needed to see who exactly we were going to be up against.

  I waited a moment until I felt Anna next to me, then drew my sword with a silent pull. I needed its weighty presence before I opened the door. I did so slowly, peering into the cardinal, murky darkness. No torches illuminated the way; the shadows were thick. Anyone or anything could have been hiding, waiting for us, having seen us in the wide open, trekking to the only structure on that miserable world.

  Anna took her post next to me, watching my expression closely. “What is it?” she hissed.

  I shook my head. “There is no light. Last time I was here, torches were kept,” I answered softly.

  Anna shrugged, “No time like the present to find out why.”

  I exhaled, she was correct. I pushed the door open, giving one last look to the shadows before I moved out of Anna’s way, waiting until she quietly closed the door before moving down the hallway and toward The Magician’s work room.

  Anna followed me on silent feet. My eyes adjusting to the red gloom, I kept my steps slow and measured, careful of half-opened doors and turnoffs. Nothing ill met us, and I pushed open the broken door of The Magician’s workroom cautiously.

  The wooden workbench was broken in half, the cot I had slept on torn to shreds. The various cubbies above the workbench had been tossed every which way, the contents destroyed. I turned, seeing the tall bookshelf, empty.

  “Well, fuck,” I hissed, just barely restraining myself from stomping my foot.

  “Someone was sure pissed,” Anna commented, picking up The Magician’s magnifying glass, the glass shattered and the frame bent.

  “To say the least,” I muttered, noting the shredding of the cot. Had talons done that, or just a pissed off succubus?

  “What now?” Anna questioned, moving a piece of debris with her foot.

  I mashed my lips together. “He said The Queen kept powerful texts in her chambers. Maybe she moved everything there.” It was a long shot and we both knew it. The warding on The Magician’s door should have kept everyone out.

  “What’s the game plan?” Anna asked.

  “Walking the fuck in,” I answered, running a hand over my weapons before I met her gaze. “Get ready to meet our mother. Then I’m killing her.”

  I turned away from Anna’s expression of shock, followed closely by anger. Encountering our mother was going to leave her bitter and disappointed, just like me.

  I moved the broken door loudly out of our way, refusing to sneak around anymore. There was only one way to cut the head off the snake, and it didn’t involve covert games. Or maybe it did, but I wasn’t playing them.

  Anna jogged to catch up to me. Still no torch light; it was bothering me, nagging at me, but I wasn’t giving it as much attention as I should have

  We hit the throne room and I stopped, testing the weight of my still-drawn sword. The golden statues were just as they had been, but a generous coating of red dust marred their surfaces.

  “Not one for cleaning?” Anna asked, touching a statue and rubbing the crimson dirt between her fingers. I watched her gaze rove over the collection, the corners of her mouth turning down.

  “Something is wrong. They were in pristine condition when I was here last,” I said, spinning in a slow circle. I held my breath and listened. Nothing, not a sound, not a whisper or rustle of clothing.

  “Where is everyone?” Anna asked.

  “I don’t know.” I turned away from the unkempt statues. “Come on, The Queen’s chambers are down that hallway.

  Anna nodded, shifting her focus, her sword in hand as we eased down the hallway. As in the throne room, scarlet dust coated the statues and the stone under our feet, puffs of dirt tickling my nose. My pace slowed and I raised my sword as we walked through heavily shadowed corners.

  Red light spilled into the hallway from the large, open window. Anna stepped out of the shadows first, taking in the sex chamber of our mother, her sword dropping.

  “There’s no one here, Olie,” she said, turning in a circle.

  I grunted, coming up next to her, keeping my sword poised as I checked the bathroom and closet. Finding her announcement accurate, I went to the window, hoping for a clue, my sword still hanging from my hand.

  Nothing stared back at me except the red wasteland. This just didn’t make any damn sense. I finally stowed my sword.

  I turned to Anna. She was looking over at the empty bookshelf along the wall parallel to the bed.

  “Any other ideas on where we can find what we need?” she asked.

  “No,” I grumbled. “This was a fucking waste.” I was ready to tear my damn hair out.

  “Maybe not, the books had to go somewhere,” Anna shrugged. “Do they have a library here?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible she took them with her when everyone left.”

  “Where would they have gone?” Anna asked. She sheathed her sword and we walked down the dark hallway, side by side.

  “I don’t know. Nowhere I went here welcomed me with open arms. Everything and everyone seemed to hate her for getting them stuck here.”

  Anna nodded, digesting that chunk of information silently.

  “Come on, let’s check this place out. Maybe we will get lucky,” she said to me once we arrived back at the throne room.

  “Yeah. I guess.” My hopes w
ere dashed. What did we do now? Just wait for Amin and my father to pull us back empty handed?

  We cleared room after room, finding all of them in some sort of disarray, but not a single body of the dead or the living.

  “This is the kitchen,” I said, pushing open the door.

  A pan slammed into the side of my head. “Fucker!” I yelled, dropping down, kicking out against the shin of my attacker as I rolled.

  “Not another move,” Anna hissed. Blinking to clear my vision, I stayed down, looking up at her sword at a tall and skinny man’s throat. His clothing was stained and torn, stubble thick on his face. He swallowed, a trickle of blood seeping down from his Adam’s apple.

  “Back up,” Anna commanded. The man dropped the pan and it landed heavily. I winced from the sound, standing up as Anna stepped into the room, the wooden door closing behind us. So much for the castle being deserted.

  “Ouch,” I complained, rubbing the goose egg forming near my temple.

  “Who are you?” whispered a voice from the shadows.

  “Olivia, and you are?” I turned, seeing a young man cowering against the wall, clutching a small bundle, his clothing just as filthy as Frying Pan Man’s.

  “I am Ox, this is Giv,” he said, pointing, his eyes not leaving the sword poised at his buddy’s throat.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked, wishing I had thought to pack Tylenol in my first aid kit.

  Giv’s brows furrowed. “You do not know?” he asked against Anna’s sword.

  “We just got here,” Anna said. “Enlighten us.”

  “The F-Fae took them all,” Ox said, scooting away from the wall, carefully watching Anna.

  “The Fae?” I asked, my heart beating faster. “What were the Fae doing here?”

  “The Queen summoned them, made a deal with them to get everyone she wanted over to Earth,” Giv supplied with heavy malice.

  “The Queen is on Earth?!” My voice pitched up and my stomach dropped.

  Ox nodded, “Along with the Fae.”

  “FUCK! We have to get back now and warn everyone.” My fear spread a cold chill under my skin. Thankfully, Anna kept her calm.

  “How do you plan on doing that?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “Anna, the Fae and our mother are in our home with the children!” I all but screamed at her.

  “I know, Olie, but we still haven’t gotten what we came here for,” she patiently reminded me.

  I blew out a breath, willing my worry for my mate and family to simmer on the back burner for the moment. I never, ever, should have left him. I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. Anna was right. I needed my denied magic. Without it, I would be no help in defending those I loved.

  The bundle Ox was holding gave out an awful wail.

  “She’s hungry,” Ox said, looking at Giv.

  Giv shook his head. “The griffin is still out there.”

  My brow furrowed. “Where is her mother?”

  Giv looked at me. “If what you say is true, that the Queen is your mother, then we are your brothers and that dying infant is your sister.”

  “She was left here to die?” I hissed.

  Giv nodded. “We’ve been getting milk from the cows, but the griffins have moved in and we’ve already lost two brothers in order to feed her.”

  “Why didn’t The Queen take you with her?” Anna asked.

  “Our fathers are human, we provide no value to her,” Ox shrugged, trying to quiet the screaming child.

  My jaw locked and I dropped my bag. “How many griffins?” I asked.

  “Olie,” Anna tried.

  “Three,” Giv said. “They’ll kill you.”

  I rolled my neck on my shoulder. This I could fix. “Once I kill them, get outside. I have no idea how to milk a cow.”

  “You draw them out, I’ll guard one of them to milk the cow,” Anna said, drawing a sword with a shrug. “We need to burn off some energy anyways.”

  I smiled at her. “Let’s go kill shit.”

  We stormed to the door and I flung it open, not spending any time thinking about the fact we now had three additional relatives to feed or the toll it would take on the Magician and Amin to bring five people back over.

  I stood in the open doorway a moment, taking in the hard-packed wine dirt.

  “Be careful,” Giv or Ox hissed behind us.

  I ignored them, stepping out so Anna could slam the door behind me. Rotating my wrist to limber up my muscles, I scanned the area in front of me. The wooden barn was dark, but I could hear a distinct “moo.” What the fuck were we going to feed the damn cow?

  I squinted up into the maroon sky, searching for the winged assholes. I felt an itch growing between my shoulder blades.

  Keeping my body rigidly still, I pulled my second sword. Pebbles fell behind me. I shifted my head to the left just a fraction of a centimeter, hoping to figure out how many were there. I filled my lungs, and on the exhale I turned, raising my swords and lowering my stance. Bring it, winged bitches.

  On the flat roof, perched at the edge of the terra cotta wall, sat the winged beasts. I’m pretty sure those sharp beaks were smiling. Reason I need a flamethrower number one hundred and one: crispy birds would be efficient.

  “Well, what do we have here?” the smallest one, on the far left, asked in a high-pitched timbre. She ruffled those sharp brown and white feathers, jumping down in front of me while I shifted back several steps. She was half the size of the one I had killed last time I was here. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that meant she was an easier kill.

  “Hi, I’m Olivia, here to kill you for starving an infant.” I took a slow step backwards, wanting the fight to be away from the kitchen door to give Anna a chance to get the milk.

  Bird brain followed me, ruffling her feathers again, squawking at me, snapping her beak close to my shin.

  “They left us here!” she screeched. I winced, that was not a pleasant sound.

  “Where did they all go?” I asked. I was really hoping her answer wasn’t the same as Giv and Ox’s.

  She hopped, using her powerful feline back legs, easily cutting the distance between us in half. I shuffled back, watching her two companions drop down, stalking our progress. With a practiced movement, I stowed one blade, placing both hands on my first.

  “HOME!” she screeched. “The Fae took them home.”

  Dammit. “Why?” I followed up quickly. I was trying not to make my usual mistake of killing before obtaining information. Look at that, I was making progress.

  Her deadly feathers ruffled. “I don’t know,” she spat.

  “You should. You’ve been trapped here for generations and unable to escape. Was there a failsafe this entire time?”

  She snapped at me, wings partially extended as she tried to chomp me in half. I ducked under the chomping beak, barely. Swinging my sword wide, I aimed for her thick and scaly ankle. She yelled in outrage, but I didn’t hear much pain in her scream, unfortunately.

  “What are you?” she demanded.

  I shrugged, “A woman on a mission.”

  “You look like her,” she hissed, lunging at me again. I brought up my blade, ducking almost a second too late. Angling my blade into her chest, I pushed forward. My momentum was lacking, and while the sharpened steel found purchase, it wasn’t a killing blow. My feet floundered, searching for traction in the rust dirt. I lunged, and with both hands wrapped painfully against the hilt, I pushed. My sword cleaved through bone, the loud popping giving way to soft tissue sliced under the pressure.

  Now that was a scream of pain. Her beak snapped through the muscles of my shoulder with impressive speed.

  With a surprised yell, I abandoned my blade, dropping flat to the ground and rolling away from the beak that followed me, slamming into the red earth. Fingers crossed she got stuck or I had hit something important.

  I dodged her angry swipes, rolling, scooting and landing a solid kick against her front leg. Adrenalin dulled the pain in my shoulder. I
needed to get back to that sword. The blade in her chest oozed with thick, black blood. At least that was a small victory, but it would mean nothing if I found death at her beak. Unlike my previous visit, I could die here this time around.

  She angled me against another terra cotta structure and I pulled my second blade free with my good arm, staying low and breathing heavily. Sweat and dirt coating my open wound, I heaved a breath, watching her pursue me at her leisure. She lunged, tilting her head and opening her wound wide. I used the wall behind me, bracing a foot against it to give myself extra height and an angle to avoid the razor sharp edges of her beak.

  My blade landed true between her shoulder blades, and my momentum embedded it deeply.

  I recognized the death wail, her head thrown back as she bucked and tossed herself around in a desperate attempt to dislodge the blade. I kept my grip, not wanting to lose another needed weapon, adding my injured arm as my shoulder screamed at me.

  Her body crumpled, legs folding in, eyes glazing over, before she fell heavily to the side. I pulled my bloody blade free, turning and coming face to face with another griffin. With a swift and efficient twist of its head, it sent me hurtling through the air and off its dead companion’s body. I thumped in the red dirt with a groan, my blade spilling from my fingers.

  In my brief aerial view, I had seen Anna fighting off the final griffin. Hopefully, Ox or Giv could get the milk now.

  I had only seconds for those thoughts before I was rolling away from the stomping, clawed feet of the exceptionally pissed off griffin, intent on merging my body with the dusty red dirt beneath us.

  Somehow in the dusty confusion of me rolling and changing directions to avoid his claws, I ended up directly underneath him—hence knowing that it was indeed a “him.” I stopped rolling for a moment, pulling a dagger from my boot and throwing it at his dangling bits. A high-pitched scream met my successful throw, followed by the downward thrust of wings as he fled away from me.

  Flopping to my stomach, I pulled my legs under me and pushed to a sitting position, breathing heavily. My shoulder throbbed in agony. I looked up, squinting against the blood red sun, watching the griffin turn in his flight, wings tucked close to his body, angling directly for me.