The Generator: The Succubae Seduction (23 page)

I find a great apartment to move into on Friday, but by then, both women refuse to let me go, telling me that I can just stay there and pay rent. A strong part of me wants to have a little bit of freedom, but deep down I’m not willing to give them up. I end up staying. I buy a whole new wardrobe, and Becky gives me a corner of her closet to use.

Saturday rolls around, and I’m surprised to find that both women want to go to AnnaBelle’s church’s event with me.

We dress nicely, and Becky drives us—she has the nicer car—to the address on the flyer.

AnnaBelle’s church is a large attractive white building, with a large lawn. People dressed in Sunday finery are amiably chatting, and I can see a couple tables being set for an outside picnic.

The religious woman from work spots me as we walk onto the lawn. I can tell her smile is forced as she takes in Becky and Lisa on my arms.

“I’m so glad you could come,” she says, “and I’m sure the Lord is too.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” Becky says.

“We brought a Jell-O salad,” Lisa follows up, presenting the desert.

It’s obvious that AnnaBelle doesn’t know how to take the women’s behavior, but she smiles, saying, “The bigger the flock that follows our Lord, the better.” She takes the bowl from the blonde-haired woman.

“You weren’t kidding,” Lisa says in a whisper as AnnaBelle walks away. “She really
is
overzealous.”

“Be nice, Lisa,” Becky says, but I can see her eyes sparkling with mirth as well.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have come,” I say, feeling uncomfortable surrounded by so many religious people. It feels as if my skin doesn’t fit well, that at any moment someone is going to show up and start judging every bit of my past.

“I don’t recall seeing you here, before,” a deep voice sounds behind me.

I turn to see a man with a deep tan and brown eyes. From the way the two women start to unconsciously preen, I’m guessing that with his ruggedly chiseled face and flowing brown hair, he must be quite attractive.

“AnnaBelle invited us,” I say, offering the man my hand. Already I don’t like this man, but I can’t place my finger on exactly why. “I’m Lyden, and these lovely women are Becky and Lisa.”

The man grips my proffered hand in a powerful grip, shaking it firmly. “I’m Reverend Michael Chilton, parishioner of this humble flock.”

Okay, I’m beginning to know why I don’t like this man. His eyes are hard, and even though they are on me, it’s obvious that his attention is on my girlfriends. From the flush in their cheeks, they’re noticing the attention as well.

“Well, welcome, and I hope you enjoy. Any chance we’ll see you in our service tomorrow?” Before I have a chance to respond, he turns and sees AnnaBelle approaching. “Ah, well I see our sweet AnnaBelle is returning. Please let me know if I can answer any questions for you.”

He takes the women’s hands and bends over each. I can’t miss how each woman’s flush deepens.

“That man is the most humble and pious man I’ve ever met,” AnnaBelle says as she comes back to us. I grunt noncommittally, not wanting to say what I really think about the reverend. “Food is served,” she adds, turning to us.

We follow her up to one of the tables and wait for a prayer to be said for the food. I’m not sure if it’s just the mood I’m in, or if it’s something else, but the blessing seems to drag on as thanks is given for everything under the sun. There are no less than three references to Reverend Michael Chilton.

We serve ourselves, and then head over to a picnic table where AnnaBelle and another young couple join us.

The conversation turns inevitably towards the high and mighty Reverend Michael. It doesn’t take long until my appetite is shot. What is it about that man that has everyone all atwitter?

The end of the picnic can’t come quick enough, but thankfully it does end. AnnaBelle walks us back to Becky’s car.

“I hope to see you in service tomorrow,” the religious woman says. Religion can be a great thing, I know, but I have
no
intention of coming to the great and humble Reverend Michael Chilton’s service.

I watch curiously as Annabelle’s face drains of color and her mouth drops open.

I turn to follow her gaze, and feel my heart plummet. It can’t be, my first thought sluggishly moves through my mind. What happened? No! I won’t accept it! I was just getting better. I was just starting to be able to go most of a day without thinking about her.

Angela is holding her side, blood obviously seeping through her fingers. She is still in her punk guise but I can see where her nose and eyebrow rings have been torn from her face.

“Lyden,” she gasps as she collapses, still a good twenty feet away, “we have a problem.”

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Chapter 11

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Resurrections

My legs are moving even before what I’m seeing fully sinks in. The twenty or so feet between Becky, Lisa, AnnaBelle, and I blurs as I super speed to the injured Angela’s side.

“Angela, what happened?” I cry out as I bend down to pick her up. Blood trickles from torn flesh at her eyebrow and nose. Why did I have to add that jewelry to her image last time? A small part of my mind ponders while my eyes rove her wounded body. Her eyes are closed, and I realize that it must have taken her last bit of strength to reach me. Her breathing is shallow and labored. I can’t believe how much blood is seeping from the hole in her side. Her clothing, burned and charred, is little more than rags. What skin is whole underneath it is red, raw, and blistered from her numerous burns.  “Who did this to you?” I demand, anger welling up in me at the violent treatment of the succubus, but she’s unconscious and doesn’t respond.

“Lyden, who is it?” Becky asks as the other women finally catch up to me.

“Oh my God!” Lisa exclaims as she gets a look at Angela.

“Taking our Lord’s name in vain won’t help the young woman,” AnnaBelle admonishes. “We need to get her to a hospital.” Somehow the older woman is able to keep her voice calm, and I wonder at how strong her resolve is. I’m freaking out!

Reaching my arms underneath her, I lift the petite damaged body up, and look around. Despite the picnic having just ended, no one else is even close to us.

“No hospitals,” I say firmly.

“Lyden, she needs help,” Becky argues, but I shake my head.

“I can help her, but we need to get somewhere quiet,” I tell them, knowing that I need to get into the demonic creature’s mind to transfer energy to her. I don’t know what her physiology is like, but I’m guessing it’ll stump a doctor and raise more questions than we can afford.

“You know this creature.” AnnaBelle’s voice makes it clear that that was a statement and not a question. Her use of the word creature, and not girl, makes me wonder if the pious woman can sense the injured woman’s nature. “We’ll take my SUV so that we can all fit. I live just a few miles away. Lyden, you work on her wounds in the back, while I drive.”

“What about us,” Becky asks, but it’s Lisa that answers.

“He’s going to need our help,” the martial artist says. We follow the older woman to her large vehicle.

The women try to help me get the blue haired woman into the back of AnnaBelle’s SUV, but I’m able to do it alone. I know they just want to help, but I don’t want anyone else touching her. There is so much blood!

Ripping off my shirt, I tear it apart, and start using the cloth as bandages while we head to my coworker’s home.

“Lyden, what’s going on?” Becky asks. “Who is she? What happened to her?”

“I don’t know, and she was a friend,” I tell the short brunette while trying to staunch the blood flowing from her side.

If anything else is said, I’m not aware of it. I try to enter the succubus’s mind while still awake, but it’s no good.

The SUV jounces as we pull into a driveway. I look outside to see a rather nice looking suburban home. The walls are brick and mortar, with a small white picket fence around the front yard.

AnnaBelle opens the back door to her vehicle, and I carry the still insensible Angela into the home. Religious pictures adorn every wall, and there is even a piano in the front room. Everything seems to be covered in white doilies, and in one corner is a collection of porcelain dolls in a wood and glass cabinet.

The older woman leads us back to a room that adds a whole new level to the color white. White bed sheets cover the bed, while white curtains frame the open window. The walls and even the carpet are white. The only objects of a different color are the five people in here, and a large painted portrait of Jesus opposite the bed.

I don’t hesitate as I lay Angela on the bed, soaking the white linen with her crimson blood. Despite my best efforts, some blood still seeps from her wounds, making a stark contrast on the white bedding.

“What do we need to do?” Becky asks, leaning over me and examining Angela. “How are you going to help her, Lyden?

It takes a strong effort of will to stand up and look away from Angela and to the three women.

“See what you can do to stop the bleeding. AnnaBelle, is there somewhere close I can take a nap?” If the odd request surprises her, AnnaBelle doesn’t show it. I’d prefer to stay in here, but I won’t be able to sleep if the other women are taking care of Angela’s wounds.

“Right this way,” the older woman says, and leads me to an adjoining room. This one is thankfully a different color, even if it is yellow. I’m glad to note that not
everything
in here is one color. The pillows on the bed are orange. “You know what she is, don’t you?” the older woman asks, and I nod. I don’t have time to wonder how
she
knows.

Without even taking off my shoes, I lie down on the bed and concentrate on falling asleep. Bit by bit, I block out the noises from the next room. I ignore the feeling of drying blood on my pants, hands, and chest, just focusing on the thought of sleep and entering into Angela’s mind. My body is so geared up with fear and worry that it seems to take an eternity, but finally I find myself surrounded by complete darkness.

It’s different this time, however, than it had been with Brooke. The blackness is tinged with red, and while I feel fine, I can sense her pain around me.

“It won’t work,” a pain-filled voice says as Angela appears before me. “You’re wasting your time.” Her clothing is whole again and blood free, but there is still an unhealthy pallor to her skin.

“Angela, what happened? I need to get you healed. You’re dying!” I tell the woman, but she sadly shakes her head.

“If we have sex in here, I’ll die,” she states. I feel my heart plummet at her words. It’s one thing to know her life is in danger, and another to actually hear it said aloud. “You’re too good at pleasing me, and I’m too weak to have even one orgasm.”

“But there has to be a way!” I plead, not willing to give up.

“Listen, that’s not important. Brooke is being held prisoner by Varun. You need to go save her.” Her words send a new chill down my spine, but I shake my head trying to stay focused. “You need to worry about her more.”

“Not important? We can go rescue her as soon as you’re better,” I tell her earnestly.

A tear forms in her eyes as she steps up to me and grips my hand. “Thank you, Lyden. I’m glad you care for me, but you need to get to your friend. She needs you now, and at least you can help her.” She pulls away. I try to grab her back, by my hands go right through her. “Take the key-card out of my pocket. You know how to use it to get to the Shadow World.” She fades a little in my vision, and I can barely make her out as she turns and says, “I’ve missed you, but maybe there is still time for the mermaid.”

“Dammit, Angela!” I swear. “There
has
to be a way!”

Her shadowy form smiles at me. “Don’t swear, love. I know how much it bothers you.” She pauses, and I can just make out her features enough to know that she’s trying to come to a decision. “Get me to your car. It might be enough to save me.” Those words seem to take a toll on her as if it took a great effort to get them out.

Her form completely vanishes, and I find myself back on the yellow bed.

My car? But it’s destroyed; nothing more than a burnt husk! Filled with despair, I walk back into the white room.

“Lyden!” Lisa shouts as soon as she sees me. “We’ve got the bleeding stopped and some of the burns covered, but I’m afraid she’s lost too much blood. Were you able to help her with whatever you were doing?”

My throat closes off, and I can’t find the words to reply, so only shake my head.

“What did you do?” Becky asks me quietly, and I feel fresh tears streaming down my cheeks.

What did I do? I didn’t do enough. I didn’t do
anything
. If only my car were still whole, then whatever she’d hidden in it might have helped her, but the fire ant had destroyed it. I’m certain she’d hidden something in my car, too. How else could it help her?

But what if whatever it was, survived? The car hadn’t become ash, just severely burned up. Maybe I can still save her!

With renewed hope, I pull my cell out of my pocket and dial up the police. I end up getting transferred twice before anyone can tell me where my car was moved to.

An impound lot, halfway across town.

I call the number for the lot, and get an answering machine. The message says that they’re closed on Sundays, and only open until six pm on Saturdays. Glancing at a clock on the wall, I see that it’s a quarter after five.

I don’t even take the time to think as I dash back into the white room and scoop Angela back into my arms.

“AnnaBelle,” I say as I head for the front door, “can you get us to the New Towne Impound Yard? It’s down by the fifth precinct building.”

“Lyden,” Becky says hesitantly as though she’s addressing a mentally challenged person, “I don’t see how that’ll help her. She needs a hospital, if it’s not already too late.”

“Becky, Lisa, I know you won’t understand, and you should probably get home.” I look both women in the eyes as I speak, willing them to understand. “Angela isn’t like a normal person, and human doctors can’t save her.”