Excerpt
Note from the Author: I love this scene
because it’s the first time Lilith runs into William Benedict, her incubus
counterpart. What happens when two
opposites attract? Sparks fly!
From the corner of my eye, I noticed a man watching me from
across the room. I didn’t remember him coming in, not surprising since the
evening had been a blur of unfamiliar faces. He had one of those chiseled chins
that belong on male models, and thick, dark hair that begged to be tousled. His
conservative V-necked sweater and leather loafers looked out of place among the
flamboyant hippies and club kids.
My cell buzzed again. Annoyed, I dragged my eyes from the
visitor. This time, Ted’s message read, “Sorry. I forgot about your mom.”
The guy in the sweater came closer. I held my breath, hoping
he’d stop by.
Once more, my cell vibrated in my pocket. I was tempted to
ignore it, but if I did, Ted would continue to text until I answered. His
message read: “I would have come to the visitation but had a med emergency.”
Medical emergency, my ass. Like I said before, Ted’s an
orthodontist, so unless a kid’s rubber band snapped hard enough to put out an
eye, I doubted there was much of a crisis. I quickly sent Ted another text
(“Ok. See you later.”) as Mr. V-necked sweater approached. He was over six feet,
and I had to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. Oh, there was such sadness in
his eyes! No doubt, some of it was due to the funeral. Coupled with that,
however, was something deeper. A bottomless well of world-weariness, perhaps,
or the weight of a secret that was too much to bear.
I wanted to speak, but couldn’t. The guy rocked me like I was
a teenager all over again. My knees felt watery, my cheeks hot, and I had that
delicious, warm, tingling between my legs. I wondered if it was okay to put the
moves on a guy I’d met at my mother’s funeral. Then again, Carrie would have
done it. In fact, she would have leapfrogged over my casket to get at him.
The visitor didn’t take my hand, though I wished he would.
Instead, he said, “Ms. Straight?”
And there it was: the killer British accent. Dear gods. I was
ready to go up in flames. I dabbed at
my sweating forehead and nodded.
“I’m Mr. Benedict.”
He waited, clearly expecting a reply. I uttered a strangled,
“Okay.”
“Miss Spry sent me.”
Miss Spry? For a moment, I was too dazzled to remember the
name. Then it came to me. Oh right, Miss Spry. The woman who had told me that I
was not only dead, but a succubus to boot.
Mr. Benedict continued to look at me with his doleful, brown
eyes. “May we speak outside?”
Could he speak with
me? He could not only talk to me, he could take me to dinner. He could drive me
to his place. He could soil me like a tissue if he wanted. Without a thought to
the other people in the room, I floated behind Mr. Benedict like I’d suddenly
left the real world for a place where dreams come true.
Once outside, I realized how dark it had become. And cold. I
wrapped my arms around myself and shivered. Mr. Benedict carried a coat over
one arm but didn’t offer it to me.
When we were clear of the doors, he said, “Miss Spry has a
task for you tomorrow morning.”
“A task? What kind of task?” I pictured myself picking up her
dry cleaning or running to the store to buy milk.
His mouth tightened in annoyance. “I don’t know. It isn’t our
job to ask questions. Just be ready to leave at 10:00 tomorrow morning.” He
walked away.
“Wait, ten? That’s
the time of my mother’s funeral!”
“That’s not my problem. Just be ready at ten. Wear something
appropriate.”
I ran to catch up, tottering on my high heels. “Appropriate
for what?”
“Your occupation.”
Occupation? Was he talking about the stretchy slacks and
semi-dressy T-shirt that I wore when substitute teaching? But the hard look in
his eyes said otherwise.
Suddenly, I felt very stupid. Of course he didn’t mean
teacher; he meant succubus. I needed to dress like a slut.
I’d been avoiding thoughts about my new job, but the fact I
was expected to do the Devil’s dirty work made my stomach cramp. “I can’t do
what Miss Spry wants. No way.”
“You don’t have a choice. It’s our job to follow her orders.”
Our job? What do
you mean our, I wondered. Then it
struck me. The smoldering gaze, the instant attraction. He was a male version
of what I was. An incubus. No wonder I’d wanted to get naked with him in the
backseat of my car.
Talisman of El by Alecia Stone
