Zoey Rogue (6 page)

Zoey listened, surprised.

“I wanted to ask two favors of you today.”

“Anything,” she said instantly.

“One, may I access your mind to clear you?”

“Clear me? Those old gas bags on the Council think it’s me?”

“It’s someone from Team R. We know this.”

“Are you serious?” She sat forward. “You don’t have to ask me, Professor.”

“I have always respected your privacy, have I not?”

“Yeah, but if the choice was between stringing me up and clearing me, I’d hope you’d read my mind.” She held out her hand, knowing he needed direct contact with her in order to read her thoughts.

“I did already, before I woke you up this morning. I wanted to see your reaction.”

“Okay then. What’s next?” Zoey let a smile tug up the corner of her mouth. She didn’t know how she ended up on his porch swing, but she was grateful for how patient he was with her.

“We’re pretty sure it’s Vikki. I want you to go with her tonight and any other time she goes out. Tell me what happens. Watch out for signs she’s …sliding.”

A pang of sadness struck her at his words. Vikki had been the first to befriend her when she arrived on campus ten years ago and stuck by her since then. They’d gone on dozens of missions together.

“Sliding. I don’t get that,” she said after a pause.

“Into the influence of the Incubatti or Cambions, someone with malicious intent who may be using her to fuel the fire between the societies.”

“I’ve been on a few dozen missions with her, four recently. What would sliding look like?”

“It’ll look different if you’re not drunk,” he said gently. “You are the best we’ve got. You can be sloshed with two hands tied behind your back and a knife in your pinkie toe and still kill a Cambion. Which, by all accounts, is what you do. But, I need you sober.”

“I’ve tried sober. I’d rather not remember killing someone,” she said and rubbed her face. “Vikki? Are you sure?”

“Sure enough that the Incubatti are sending their Enforcers, and Olivia will probably allow it, according to my source. Unlike the Sucubatti Internal Affairs Officers, whose role is to maintain the peace and act as a police force, the Incubatti Enforcers are known to be somewhat … aggressive.”

”I’ve heard the stories in history class.”

Zoey’s breath caught at the idea of Vikki facing the monsters. According to school, the team of elite, super-Incubuses was dispatched to deal with issues a normal Incubus couldn’t. They had a history of striking first, investigating later and not being concerned about who got caught in the crossfire. None of the stories the Sucubatti scholars related to their students were good.

“I know you are close to Vikki. I ask this of you as much for you as for her. If there are other considerations we need to be aware of, I want to be able to present her case in full to the Enforcers. If she is being coerced or threatened in some way, she will not face the capital punishment the Enforcers normally hand out. If she is choosing to betray us, this is a different matter,” the Professor continued. “I want to give her a chance, Zoey.”

“I understand,” she said. “Thank you so much, Professor. I am constantly reminded how grateful I am that you’re my Benefactor. I don’t think hers would do this.”

“The rest of them can be … what do you normally call them? Dicks?”

She nodded.

“I’m too old to be a threat to the Incubatti Enforcers, though I know them well from their visits here,” he said. “I understand how special you are. I want you to be protected.” His smile faded. “I remember what started the War. I never want us to return to a time of open hostilities.”

Emotion conveyed in the voice of an Incubus hit a half-human with double the force of a normal emotion. His sorrow made her ache.

“Will you tell me what really happened?” she asked. “I don’t believe that garbage they teach us.”

“Not today.”

“You should tell me soon. You’re near-immortal, but not immortal. I might outlive you, old man.”

“You might.” He chuckled, his sorrow fading. “You bring life to my world, Zoey.”

“You’re lonely, aren’t you?”

“Not with you in my study.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Mine has been a lonely life, yes. But full. I regret nothing,” he told her firmly. He was smiling again.

“If Vikki is what you say she is … I mean, come on. She’s my best friend.” She felt melancholy. Her own emotion, this time. “I still haven’t found my footing, Professor. I just don’t fit in here.”

“You should stop fighting who you are and accept it,” he advised. “It has been my experience that those meant for greatness are normally the least aware of their own genius.”

“Greatness.” She made a face at him. “Whatever, Professor. What’s my genius?”

“Perhaps the word genius is a bit of an exaggeration in your case.”

Zoey laughed. She thought hard about what he’d told her. He trusted her, another unusual trait for the guardians who viewed the Halflings with derision. Most of them were puppet masters who used the Hunters and transferred them when they became too old or slow or wounded, usually around their twenty second birthdays. Vikki turned twenty-two six months ago and Zoey would in three months. Only the girls on Team R didn’t get transferred when they hit that milestone, maybe because they had the highest success rates of all Hunters. The Professor always treated her like a family member. She studied his ancient face, troubled.

“Is there any chance you’re wrong about Vikki?” she asked.

“Probably not. She’s done something to block the mind access of her Benefactor, so he can’t tell what she might’ve done,” he answered. “I hope not to put you in danger this evening. This is not my intent.”

“I’m in danger every evening,” she replied. “I’m not afraid of the Incubatti Halflings, especially when I know what happens if I let them live.” Anger bubbled within her. One of the first lessons every Hunter recruit learned was what Cambions did to the girls they lured to their beds. It was a brutal, bloody and slow death. Sex energy was only harvested from live victims, and Cambions could feed off one girl for days.

Incubuses could do worse. Sex energy gave them superhuman strength and agility. With their ability to cloud judgment, they could influence or seduce whomever they chose.

Sometimes, she forgot how dangerous the man before her was, if he decided to be. The Incubatti were governed by a handful of rules, similar to those the Sucubatti kept. They included not using magic to harm others unless in self-defense and emphasized discretion among the human population who didn’t know they existed. They relegated the divide in their philosophical differences to the battles between Hunters and Cambions. The Incubatti sent Cambions to do their dirty work collecting sex energy, and the Sucubatti sent in Hunters to defend innocent women from them. Full-blooded Succubae and Incubuses were forbidden from relationships and interactions with the Halflings of the other society, unless approved by the respective Council.

Any heartache she harbored about how the full-blooded Succubae treated their half-breeds died the day she saw the videos in class demonstrating what Cambions were capable of. She’d outright volunteered for missions, before she graduated from recruit status.

“I am saying, my thick-headed warrior, that I worry about you,” the Professor said.

“Like I worry about you being lonely?” she countered.

“Perhaps. I will keep my mind open to yours tonight. I will come, if you call.”

“I won’t put you in danger,” she said, looking over his tall frame. He was much thinner than when she met him three years ago, almost to the point of being gaunt.

“My dear, a full-blooded Incubus – even one older than dinosaurs – is stronger than you.”

“Whatever, Professor.”

“I am happy you were dumped upon my porch three years ago. That was one night where your drunkenness led you in the right direction.”

“I told the new girl today I wasn’t recruited the same way the other Hunters were. Vikki said I was probably too drunk to remember. But you would know, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“I would know, yes, and you weren’t recruited.”

“You’ll tell me the truth, right?” she asked.

“I have many secrets, but this is not one.” His head cocked to the side. “Why does it matter, little Zoey, how you ended up with me as your guardian?”

Because it was the first time I blacked out like last night
, she answered silently. Realizing she’d asked one question too many and stirred his interest, Zoey rose. She gave him a salute.

“I’ll come see you in the morning, before school,” she said. “Full report on my Vikki mission.”

“What are you hiding, my dear?”

“Nothing, Professor,” she mumbled. “Unless you want me to stay, I’m out, old man.”

“Be careful, kiddo.”

“Alright. You, too. Go see a movie or something.”

He snorted. Zoey knew he never left his house, unless it was to go to the campus across the street. She went to the bathroom to change back into her running gear.

By the time she’d jogged home, it was starting to get dark. The car belonging to her boyfriend, Eric, was parked in his spot in front of the apartment building. Upbeat after her talk with the kindly Incubus, she waltzed into the apartment, mouth dropping open to shout a hello, when her phone rang again.

“You finally here?” Eric called from the kitchen. It smelled like spaghetti night. Surprised he cooked, she almost forgot the phone.

“Yeah. One sec, Eric,” she said and dug through her backpack for the cell. She saw Vikki’s number cross the screen. “Hey, Vikki.”

“Meet me at seven?”

“Sure.”

“Wear something tight. There’s supposed to be like, five of them here tonight, so bring extra weapons.”

“Got it. Seven at the library,” Zoey said loudly enough for Eric to hear. “See ya then.” She hung up and stood in the living room for a moment.

Not Vikki. Not her only friend. Maybe there was some extenuating circumstance. Maybe they were threatening her or her family.

“You going out with Vikki again tonight?” Eric asked, poking his head out from the kitchen. He was frowning. “You were out all last night. The Professor called to tell me you got food poisoning or something and were at his place.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

“You should’ve just called me to come get you.”

“I know,” she mumbled.

“You’re twenty-one, Zoey, but that doesn’t mean you have to go out drinking every night -- just because you’re finally legal.”

She shook off her dark mood and crossed to him, planting a wet kiss on his mouth. The sex energy that fueled her super-human abilities sprang to life at the short brush of their lips. She gripped his collar and pulled him back to her, kissing him deeply.

“When I get back, I’ll let you make love to me. How’s that?”

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I live with a nympho,” he said, returning her kiss.

“I’m not a nympho,” she said, flushing. She pushed him away playfully.
I’m a Cambion-killing machine, fueled in part by my Benefactor’s Incubus sex energy
. The influence of adrenaline, the superpowers derived from the Professor’s magic and the proximity to a Cambion’s sex energy normally left her horny enough to pounce on Eric when she got home.

If he asked her to marry him, she’d have to find a way to explain she was a half-Succubus who was able to tap into the energy harvested from sex to fight Cambions. Then explain that the Cambions who looked like guys in their 20s were really psychos who deserved to have their throats cut by someone like her. Oh, and not to worry, because when it looked like she was going home with guys and making out with them, she was actually going to kill them. And by the way, she knew how to kill a man about twenty different ways with a knife and had tried them all at least once. She had a few favorite ways to kill, too, and did Eric want to hear some funny stories about killing Cambions while drunk?

Zoey’s chest was too tight to breathe for a long moment as she tried to find some way to express the truth in a way that didn’t sound nearly as bad as it was. The Professor was right. She’d have a meltdown, if Eric asked her to marry him. She’d lose him and now, she might lose Vikki.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Go get dressed,” Eric said. “You okay?”

She forced a smile, realizing she’d been standing in the living room, lost in her thoughts. She grabbed her backpack, changed and lingered in the bedroom. It was quiet, the only sound was that of the rain outside the window. It was almost six. She’d have to eat and run. Packing club clothes in the bottom of her backpack, she loaded it next with her favorite weapons then stacked college textbooks on top.

Exiting the bedroom, she dropped the backpack on the couch and glanced at the tiny space in the apartment dedicated to a dining room. Eric had put candles and fresh roses on the card table they used for meals. She smelled the burnt edges of the cheesy bread from across the room. Eric wasn’t much of a cook, but he’d made the effort.

She smiled as she sat in a folding chair, touched by how sweet he was.

“I’ll admit, the sauce came from a can,” he said, emerging with two plates heaped with spaghetti. “Dig in.” He sat next to her.

Zoey relaxed, at ease with her small oasis away from the compound. Vikki had laughed at her when she moved in with Eric over a year ago, asking how one mile made any difference. Gazing at the dinner and Eric, Zoey felt like she was a billion miles from the other life she lived. They ate and discussed their days. Eric managed to make his boring days sound fun: some issue with someone else’s figures that made his boss cry, a coworker named Tory that kept hitting on him and today, one of the bathrooms exploded and flooded the main hallway with sewage.

Laughing at his stories, Zoey kept her attention divided between him and the clock, content to be there, but restless to be gone. She finished eating at half past six and was getting ready to stand and leave when Eric glanced up at her.

“I know you’re in a hurry. Five minutes, okay?” he asked. “I bought your fave dessert.”

“Sure.”

He rose and took their plates, disappearing into the kitchen. Anxious to be gone, she glanced at her watch a few times and tapped her foot. She’d have less time to get ready when she got to Vikki’s. Mentally, she double-checked everything she put in her backpack. Everything was there, down to her mascara and the paper thin knife she’d wear strapped to her thigh under a dress.