Chapter 13

Tracy just stared at him.

Then slowly her red lips curved into a smile, her pupils dilating.  Artemvian noted in the back of his mind that it accentuated the lines of her neck all the way towards her chest.  She took out her hand from beneath the desk, folding them in front of her, palms down.  The hand that Artemvian had touched with his mana was covered in swirling markings, writhing and coiling like tentacles.

“I had heard rumors of the new talented mage in town, I had no idea that you were one of us.”

Even while knowing that she was a succubus, Artemvian was tempted to just sit and stare at her.  Her smile promised all sorts of things, things that a younger man would kill for.  She was carefully drawing little circles on her table with her long slender fingers and the black markings on her hand only emphasized the circular motion.  He tried to focus on what she was saying but was having difficulty pushing away the thoughts of those fingers, tracing teasing little circles around his neck.

Her smile widened and it was all Artemvian could do to not think about things that he had imagined his entire life.  In his previous life, he had never known the embrace of a woman.  Too dangerous.  He knew who he was; he was the type to care.  If he started to care about someone and they got targeted because of him, he could never live with himself.

Then with the hardness of steel, Artemvian solidified his thoughts into a steel door being swung with all the strength of an ogre.

It was a mental defense that all mages –no, all those who dealt with demons- employed when under psychic assault.  A must-have skill in his line of work, or rather, his former line of work.  But this world was crawling with more demons.  Though they were weaker than the ones he was used to dealing with, out of habit Artemvian added his own mana into mix, loading the defensive technique with each power to disrupt her own mana system.

Tracy raised an eyebrow and then slowly widened her smile.  “An Empath? How delicious.”

She didn’t reel back, her blood spurting out of her nose; a common side-effect of being on the receiving end of a psychic backlash.  She didn’t tell out in pain.  Hell, she hadn’t even flinched.

The succubus stood up from behind the desk and Artemvian absently noted that she had great legs.  He also noticed a few other details; the way her skirt hugged her hips, just a little too tightly to be considered appropriate –though his notion of what was appropriate or not was disappearing rapidly while living in this city.  It was just an inch too short for her for it to be formal wear, yet it was no doubt a suit.

Tracy approached him, a slight sway in her walk.

Artemvian held out a hand.  “Don’t come nearer.”  His voice was flat and cold.

Now that gave her a pause.  But she just smiled and continued on.

“I’m warning you.”

Artemvian gathered mana.  He had not expected this level of strength from her.  It had been a mistake and it was something new he discovered about this world.

Tracy wasn’t just any old succubus, she was an old creature.  He wasn’t sure how history had shaped the power of these creatures but if his world was any example, Tracy was an ancient and powerful daemon.  Artemvian was powerful, yes.  But at the end of the day, he was a Magus.  A wizard who relied on preparation and time to face his foes.

Which was precisely why he had asked Riley for the materials needed to make his staff and other tools.  He had known this would happen sooner or later.  Artemvian had just barged in, seeing her as a young Succubus, barely a century old but he had basically walked himself into a venus flytrap.

Meanwhile, Tracy kept walking towards him.  One leg crossing the other and making Artemvian almost wish she would overpower him and sit next to him after all.

So Artemvian did the only thing he could.

He hissed out a single word.  “Veritas.”

And at once, Tracy’s form changed.

The roiling black marking spread from her hand, slithering up her sleeves and spread all over her in a blink.  Her face, her legs and even her cleavage.  Her eyes shifted, turning from neon-blue to black slits of a feline, surrounded by amber-red –reminiscent of hellfire.  Her features grew sharper, more feminine yet less humane.

Her True Form.

And with all the ferociousness of a predator who had been discovered, she lunged towards him; claws blazing with fire.

Artemvian quickly got up out of the couch, flicking out a finger and shooting a mana bolt directly at her ankle, causing her to fall amongst the couches.

He had to hit her hard and fast; while keeping her off of her balance.  If he gave her a moment to think, she’d start relying on abilities she was good at; seduction and slow psychic assaults, aimed towards wearing down his conscience and placing a Geass.  So he needed her to get angry –resorting to physical violence.  Without the proper preparation, Artemvian did not want to engage her in pure magical ability.

She threw the couch at the all –one handed– and snarled at him, pink and purple waves rolling off of her.

Artemvian stood on the opposite side, smiling and waiting.

Snarling, she took a step and raised her arms then froze as a familiar voice called out from outside the door.

“Tracy?! Is everything alright in there?”

Jack.  Her employee.

Artemvian crossed his arms, leaning on the wall and watching her.  It was time to see what type of daemon she was.

Tracy had to visibly calm herself before answering jack.  “I’m fine Jack.  I just dropped some files I was handing over to the officer.”

The whole time she spoke in that upbeat tone, the snarl had never left her face.

“Damn.  Creepy as shit.”  Artemvian whispered, loud enough for her to hear.

“...you sure, Tracy?”

“Yes.  Jack would you do me a favor and check on the girls?”

“You got it.”

Footsteps told them both that Jack had walked away.

“So, they don’t know that you’re a succubus.  And you care about them enough… or this,” Artemvian raised a hand up and down at Tracy.  “Persona enough to allow a personal insult from me.  A stranger.”

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.  “Tell me what you want, Mage.”  When she opened her eyes, they were smoldering with anger.

Artemvian cursed inwardly.  So much for asking her questions about the state of the supernatural in this world.  He had done one of the things that daemons like her hated, exposing her true form.  There was a difference between transforming willingly and being forced to transform.  Like a human deciding to take their clothes off versus someone coming in and ripping your clothes off against your will.

He saw the base of her throat trembling with fear and humiliation.

Damn, Artemvian felt like crap.

He cleared his throat.  “I’m looking for Helen Papier.  The manager of this place.”  

“The Ghouls took her.”

Artemvian frowned.  “Ghouls?”

Tracy walked over to her desk and picked up a shawl, wrapping herself in it even though the room was more than warm from their earlier exchange.  “You do not know about the Ghouls?”  She lifted her nose, last shred of dignity.  “Promise me that you will do no harm while in this place, to me and my own, and I will tell you what you need to know.”

“Done.”

Tracy sat behind her desk, composing herself.  That desk was a place of power for her –not magically.  But socially.  She wasn’t a Succubus, she was Tracy.  It seemed that this daemon was one of those.

“I do not know how much you know about this world, but considering that you knew my… other self, I’m assuming you have been involved in the past with this side,”  She continued, “When Helen was still active as a dancer, a vampire took a liking to her.  A powerful one, one from one of the High Families; heavily involved with this city’s politics.  He was obsessed with her… I had heard through the grapevine that the Ghouls working for his family were under orders to kidnap her.”

“And you sat by and did nothing?”  Artemvian frowned.  He didn’t know Tracy that well, but considering how she had treated Jack just now, she seemed the type to be possessive of her people.  Like how a bear might protect its kill.

She let out a laugh.  “Make no mistake, Mage.  I tried.  But the mercenaries in this city who know of the other side are few; and the mention of a Vampire House sends them scurrying.  And mercenary or not, I have no habit of sending clueless men to their deaths.”

“But you said the Ghouls took her?”

“Guards… Minions.  A slavehouse of the supernatural families involved with this city’s politics.”  She shivered, like she was cold..  “Is that all?”

“One more thing.”  Artemvian said.  “You said you tried… so you must at least know where Helen is.  You didn’t say she was dead, just that she was taken.  A succubus of your power, you must have some connections.  Tell me where she’s being kept.   Has she been given to the Vampire yet?”

She smiled, all teeth and no eyes.  “You are entirely too well versed in this side of the world, mortal.”

Artemvian gulped.

“Yes.  Two days ago, my contacts tracked Helen to a warehouse.”  She wrote the address down on a small piece of paper, handing it to him.  “You will find her there.”

Artemvian stared at the paper.

Finally, a lead.

Or… a trap.

“Now leave, mage.”

“But I have more-”

Artemvian froze, hearing sirens.  “Blasted stars.”

Tracy reached beneath her desk and brought out a small cube with a button on it.  “Jack told me you’re a cop… but I said it to your face that you’re a mercenary.  Did you really think that you could get away with insulting me in my own house?”

The sirents were getting closer.  In fact… they sounded like they were right outside.

“I’ll be seeing you, Empath.”

As Artemvian turned and rushed out of the door.  

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.