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Arc 8-94
🕑 Added 2025-09-04 03:50:00 +0000 UTCI’m eager to get away from the unnerving sisters, but my flower’s sweet words and expertly crafted upturned eyes convince me to re-enter the room. I focus on Leena and her never-ending stream of questions about the city. They’re pointed, insightful—enough to give me hope that giving her a job might amount to more than charity.
I do my best to ignore the unwavering attention of the older sister, but it’s difficult with Talia’s words haunting me. I can’t stop wondering what’s going on behind her blank yet intense gaze. What does it mean to worship something, truly? I can’t fathom. The closest I can compare is my admiration for my divine father, but I don’t worship him. Thoughts of him don’t consume me so completely that I can’t even speak.
I wonder how much turmoil I could stir with a single sentence. Would a compliment inflate her ego to comical proportions? Would a criticism shatter what little sense of self she has? If I gave her a task—any task—would she risk life and limb to complete it? Would she kill if I decided someone deserved to die? Would she give her life for someone I deemed important?
Thankfully, an interruption saves me from my dangerous thoughts. Both sisters flinch when Geneva appears in the doorway; I suppose faith isn’t enough to erase the fear of death. I barely notice their reaction as Geneva’s words demand my full attention.
“The rebels are making their move.”
A glance at Talia is enough to signal that her fun is over. She sends us off with a smile. Geneva is right on my heels as I speed-walk through the estate.
“What’s the situation?”
“My informant has arrived. She was called to participate in the rebels’ plan. They’ll assault the traditionalists tonight.”
“Is this person going to be missed?”
“She’s irrelevant.”
I wince on behalf of the poor soul dragged into the succubus’ schemes.
“She’s too weak to be missed and has grumbled enough that they’ll assume she deserted. She wouldn’t be the first.”
“They’re a mess, huh.”
“It’s to be expected. Sin relies on desperation and anger, but one cannot build a future on those things. The longer they suffer, the more they realize he offers nothing beyond burning together with their enemies. As always—”
“Survival comes first,” I finish. I know the proud smile she wears is fabricated, tailored to tickle that part of everyone that craves recognition. Doesn’t stop it from feeling good.
Geneva takes my arm, guiding me away from the estate’s front—where I expect to find a guest—and around to the back, where Anna keeps her little balls of fluffy carnage.
Standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of pants too big for her and radiating anxiety, is a woman not much older or younger than me. Her short hair hides under a dirty cap, her boots scuffed and worn. She looks like the kind you’d spot slipping into a dark alley, always running—either toward opportunity or away from consequences.
She looks so uncomfortable I can almost taste it, but her attention is caught by Anna feeding her pets bones while making adorable cooing noises they echo back. For a moment, I’m annoyed Geneva left the girl with a stranger. Then I remember she’s been training Anna, and that Anna was already a murderous little beastie before a succubus got her hands on her. No random woman is going to be much of a threat.
It takes her far longer to notice us than the other way around. She would have taken even longer if Anna hadn’t given us away, raising her head and grinning with all the innocence she was robbed of too early. The sight squeezes my heart. Can I count that as two people I’ve had a positive influence on?
Normally, she’d be running toward me. Her sparkling eyes say she wants to, but she holds herself back, focusing on the flocketts and leaving us to our business. What a well-behaved girl~ Her and her brother both. I owe them something nice when this is all over.
The nervous woman isn’t soothed by my smile. She looks ready to bolt, but her gaze keeps flicking to Geneva. Where I’m a threat, the succubus is her anchor. Geneva walks ahead of me to take her hand, and the tension melts from her. She even smiles.
Poor thing. I owe her something nice too.
“Ceri,” Geneva says in a sickeningly sweet tone. “This is Lourianne Tome-Delarre, recently named countess of the city and its surrounding territories. She’s going to handle the rebels.”
The woman flinches, but Geneva softens her voice, coaxing her like a wary stray. “I’ve already explained your situation. In return for your help, she’s willing to grant you clemency.”
So that’s the game. I clear my throat. “Be at ease,” I tell the anxious rebel, channeling Orum. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
“Says the woman who killed how many?” she snaps, a little dog barking at a wolf.
“I understand, more than most, what it means to be driven to the edge. How desperation makes us do…regrettable things. But a few bad decisions shouldn’t define us, should they? Especially when we choose to do better.”
She bites her lower lip, indecision clear as the sky above us. Then, slowly, she nods. I’d feel accomplished if I could be even slightly confident that her trust comes from me and not Geneva’s tricks.
“Come,” the succubus says. “We should talk inside.”
—
Four walls and a steaming cup of tea go a long way toward calming the rebel. Not that she’s comfortable—she holds the delicate cup like it’s a snake, and her eyes keep darting to the door, as if to make sure no one blocked it while she wasn’t looking. At least she doesn’t look ready to run.
“We found their camp weeks ago and have been watching them. In the city, I mean. People scattered around, keeping track if someone from their camp moved past. Not accurate, but good enough to stay aware. They had no idea.”
“Clever,” I praise, unironically.
“Yeah, well. Not effective enough. They were everywhere, like they knew we were watching. Sin tried to bait them into moving with the meeting, but that wasn’t enough.”
“So he’s applying more pressure.”
“Yeah. Man must’ve taken a hoof to the head. He’s throwing bodies at them, doesn’t care how many come back. Winning’s good—he’ll torture the old hands for what he wants, don’t doubt it—but he doesn’t care if he loses. Doesn’t care how many die as long as it forces the old hands to reveal their treasure.”
“I see. And you’re here because you’re not interested in being one of his sacrifices.”
“Don’t worry, Ceri.” Geneva puts a comforting hand on her back. “Nothing will happen to you. You’re safe.”
The rebel relaxes, sighing deeply. “Not worried about me.” Her eyes flick to me. “As long as you keep your word?”
“I don’t intend to break it.”
“…I know you won’t. Geneva trusts you.” The warmth in her voice could break my heart if I let it. “That’s good enough for me.”
“We can do better than that.” I rise from the couch. “You’ll spend the night here. In the morning, we’ll send you on your way with enough crowns to start a life wherever you want. Even here. You have my word.”
She scowls. “I don’t need your help.”
I hear the unspoken ‘and I don’t want to pay the price either’, reinforcing her image as a mistrustful stray. Too bad—this isn’t about her.
“I insist.”
She’s about to refuse again, but Geneva stops her with a palm on her cheek. “You could use a decent night’s sleep. And better not to travel tonight. Sin could have people planted in the city to hit any traditionalists who run, and they won’t be able to pick friend from foe. Worse, some defectors may turn to true villainy if they’ve lost faith in their leader. Would you rather meet them on a narrow street, or leave in the morning with a pocketful of coins?”
“How can I refuse if you put it like that?” the rebel grumbles.
Geneva giggles, a sound sweet enough to halt a murderer’s knife mid-swing. “Why would you ever refuse me? I’m your best friend. I’ll always look out for you.”
For the first time, the woman smiles. “Idiot.”
I can’t watch another second of this.
I clap to draw their attention. “Glad that’s settled. Would you like dinner with us, or in your room?”
“The room,” she says without hesitation.
“No problem. Earl?”
“You called, my lady?”
My steward arrives in moments, his sudden appearance startling our guest. She relaxes when she notices he’s only a teenager.
“Please show Miss Ceri to a spare room. And, ah—would you like a bath?”
“I don’t have anything to wear,” she mutters.
“Then a bath and a change of clothes too.”
“Of course. If you’ll follow me, miss.”
With an encouraging squeeze of her shoulder from the succubus, the nervous rebel rises and follows Earl out.
Once they disappear, I’m on the succubus, grabbing her by the throat. Her only reaction to the pressure of my fingers is a pout, not a single trace of fear in her pink eyes.
“Do you understand how disgusting I find what you did?” I growl.
“Of course, my summoner.” Her tail loosely coils around my waist, as if we’re sharing an intimate moment. “I know how you feel about manipulating others through the mental affinity.”
“Then you know how far you have to go to make this right. She’s served her purpose, and you’ll reward her for that. By the time she leaves, you’ll have erased your influence. And you’ll do it without hurting her.”
“We may have to delay her departure.”
“Do what it takes. She deserves your best effort.”
“As you wish.”
I release her with a deep sigh. Still feels like I need a bath.
Comments
Michael Simmons, Author
Man, to be honest I expected Ceri to just be drained of info by the succubus and killed off. I guess the fact that Geneva brough her to Lou to deliver the info herself is better? Uhg, mental affinity is so gross. Well written, Lou's anger is very well delivered. TFTC.
