I came to a decision. Most would probably call it a very stupid decision. I prefer calculated risk. It was the same methodology of calculated risk that had brought me back up to millionaire status after spending myself into poverty. Good, solid opportunities where the risks made sense and the profit was worth the effort.
Dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I found myself in front of Rick’s empty club in the middle of the night. A sign on the door said closed for renovation. Refusing to be disheartened, I picked the lock on the door and headed inside. Painter’s plastic covered most of the floor. The carpet was torn up and all of the booths and bars were receiving an update. The dance floor was reduced to bare cement, and the DJ’s stage was nothing but ribs waiting for a new subfloor.
I puffed out a breath and moved a little further inside. I guess I could wait until the renovations finished, but part of me was afraid I’d lose my nerve. Rick’s intimation that a very quick (or not) death awaited me had me shaking with each step.
I fingered the plastic as I passed, noting a layer of thin dust. The ceiling was also torn up, replacing the lighting with new, state-of-the-art options. Rick’s club looked like it was doing well for itself.
“How did you get in here?”
I spun and swallowed back my fear. Rick walked toward me with purpose, two goons in his wake.
“I, uh.” Not the moment to get tongue-tied! I silently berated myself. “My name is Zelda. I need your help and I’m out of time to get it.”
Rick looked me up and down and then his eyes opened a little wider. “The vertically challenged kid with the sister who likes to disrupt my club!”
“Zelda.” I corrected coolly. “I need a succubus. Bad.”
“Why are you talking to me about mythical creatures? Or is it some sort of euphemism I’m not familiar with?” His brow lifted. “I’m really not into kids.”
My eyes rolled, and my arms crossed over my chest. “Stop being an idiot. I know your side business, and I’m running out of time. I need the services of a succubus.”
“Why? Do you think it’ll make you taller?” He chuckled at that, clearly amused with his own wit.
“Yes, for one.” I shifted my weight and leaned casually against the bare wood of the closest torn up seat. “Can you get me in contact with Fred? I’m familiar with him, and I think I can work with him.”
“I’m not in the business of playing matchmaker.”
“You’re in the business of client service. I am now your client. By helping me, you also help him. A win-win that should be worth something close to $300,000?”
Rick scoffed. “You’re playing in the big leagues, little one. Come back when you have big money and big britches.”
“I won’t ever have big britches, which is my point.” I yelled the words, frustrated and full of stupid kid hormones that overreact at everything that seems unfair and unmanageable. “Stop being frustrating and help me!”
That seemed to catch him off guard. Rick assessed me again, his sneering smile gone. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious. I have about three and a half years left to live if I don’t get his help.”
“What did this to you?” The businessman came out in a flash and his tone softened into false concern.
“If you want that information, you have to pay me. If you want me to pay you, then my business is my own, and you facilitate the meeting.”
“You pay first, and all I promise is to pass along the message,” he countered.
“I pay half first. Once you guarantee with proof that the message has been passed, you get the second half.”
“That’s not how I do business with new clients.”
He had the upper hand. I hated people who abused their upper hands. Pulling out a very large wad of very large bills, I tossed it at his feet. “That’s the down payment and my phone number. Once I hear at least a message from the man saying that he received my request for help, I’ll bring over the rest of your money.”
Rick hadn’t moved toward the cash. “I don’t take cash payments. Money is too traceable.”
“Not this money. Now, look, you’re right. I don’t play in the big arena very often, so I’m begging you to cut me some slack. Assuming this deal works out, I won’t ever play in it again. If it doesn’t; if Fred doesn’t want to help, then I’ll be back and we can do it your way next time.”
I lifted a brow at him, begging him not to make this any harder than it had to be.
“Fine, kid.” He knelt and scooped up the wad, fanning through it. His goon accepted the pile and ran a pen across it while Rick kept his attention on me. One grunt and Rick started talking again. “We have a deal, this time, but next time you want something you come during normal business hours.”
“I tried that.” My glare was enough that he cleared his throat.
“Yes, well, I didn’t know you then. Now I do.”
“Great. A pleasure.”
Turning on my heels, I rode the bus back to my place and twiddled my thumbs for the rest of the evening.
An entire week passed in the same manner: me pacing, going a bit crazy with each passing minute; Rick spending all the money I’d just dropped in his lap. Well, that’s what my bitter imagination said he was doing anyway. In reality, he was probably just sitting on it, laughing to himself about the stupid kid with too much money on her hands.
I let an entire month pass before I returned to the club. The renovations were done. Another long line of college-age kids waited along the wall. The sidewalk looked like an actual sidewalk, and the building itself looked less like a battered hotel and more like a nightclub. All of the broken glass and cigarette butts were gone, and a fresh coat of paint gave the whole place a very nice feel. Rick had done a contrasting trim on the painted windows and the cover on the windows was thin enough to allow the flash of strobes. Nothing obnoxious, just a quick call-out to the fact that something fun was going on behind the closed doors.
I didn’t bother trailing down the line this time, not interested in pretexts. My body was closer to ten than eleven and I hated the loss of anything that suggested at physical maturity. “Box, do you ever do anything else?”
“What did you call me?” He stared at me over his crossed arms. I’d lost my height, too, I realized.
“Box. Ya know, because you’re sturdy and solid,” I lied.
“Oh.” He kind of ruffled himself a bit, standing just a little taller. “No kids.”
“I’m not a kid. I’m vertically challenged. Let me in.”
“No kids.” He repeated. I had a flash to some sort of robot. Could that be possible?
“I’m not a kid. Rick is expecting me.”
“Is he?”
The door opened and Rick’s head poked out. “Stop lying. She can come in.” He tossed his head in a ‘follow-me’ gesture and I obeyed, tracking with him all the way to his card table.
“You play poker?”
“Not in thirty or so years.”
“Play one game with me, high stakes, and then I’ll listen to you.”
“How about I just pay you a thousand dollars and we call it good?”
“10K ante,” Rick said helpfully.
I dug in my bag for one of the bills, slapping it down with my tiny hand. “This is too rich for my blood.”
“Alright.” He seemed genuinely disappointed. “Why are you here?”
“Fred never contacted me. I assume you passed on the message, so I need another option.”
“Another succubus?”
“Yes, unless you know of another creature that can age me without killing me.”
He eyed me. “What’s wrong with you, exactly?”
“I lose three years for every one.”
Rick whistled. “Fred didn’t contact you? I wonder why.”
“Does it matter? Do you know any more or not?”
“Hmmm. I’ll make a few phone calls and see what I can find out for you. We’re talking big dollars now, though, because I’m doing all the leg work.”
I could feel a sigh coming on, but I fought it off. “All I have is two hundred left. One-fifty from our deal before, and another fifty from savings. Take it or leave it.”
His tongue ran over his teeth, and he tossed a small handful of chips onto the pile to continue the game. “You have more than that.”
“I do, but it belongs to my great-grandkids.”
“Which is more important, seeing them, or paying for their college drinking habits?”
I ground my jaw. “You know what, never mind. I’ll find another option.”
Rick didn’t bother trying to stop me. I wasn’t sure if I hated the man’s apathy, or if I understood it. From a business perspective, I suppose I understood it.
I saw Fred in his usual spot among his friends. I watched jealously, wondering if there was any way to force his power. Touching wasn’t enough. He’d touched me last time we met to no effect. Could I piss him off? Probably, but I didn’t really want to test my endurance against an enraged succubus.
Fred headed toward the bar and I swear he looked right at me, but I didn’t bother to stop. I wasn’t in the mood for a second rejection, or begging. There had to be more occult dealers; more people who knew succubae.
Outside, the wind picked up and my hands slipped into my pockets, head down against a brisk breeze. I decided to walk hoping exhaustion would help with my sudden frustration at the world. Now that it was close to midnight, there weren’t a lot of people sharing the sidewalk with me; and most of those were snoozing as I passed. A few hooded eyes stared up like I might be the devil himself. Then again, maybe for this part of town that wasn’t so far off. Especially since I looked like a kid. What kid would walk alone at night, especially here?
Then I heard a second set of footsteps behind me. I made the next turn and glanced back. A small part of me hoped it would be Fred, or even one of Rick’s goons come to fetch me for their master. No such luck. The dark-clad figure was exactly what one would expect in this part of the city this late at night.
Swallowing hard, I sped up my tiny, stubby legs and tried to think my way through the city’s layout. Unfortunately, my internal GPS couldn’t even picture the nearest public space. One wrong turn and I found myself in a dark alley with a barricade of barrels, pallets, and a massive trash bin blocking my path forward. The fire escapes were pulled up and I had no option but to climb. I sprinted forward, hoping for a flying leap. My fingers scrambled for purchase and my feet followed. Neither worked in a coordinated fashion.
A hand closed on my arm and tossed me backward with so little effort that I wanted to cry.
“Leave me alone.”
“What’s a kid like you doing in a place like this?” he taunted.
“Just going home.” I scrambled to my feet and bolted for the unmanned mouth of the alley; back the way I’d come.
“Oh no you don’t. I need me some fun tonight.” The man caught me again, this time around the waist, lifting me into the air and spinning us both around so I landed hard on the ground.
I gasped, half-sobbing, and tried to wiggle my way backwards.
“Come now. It won’t hurt much, and then—”
His face froze, mouth half-open and eyes wide. They rolled into the back of his head as he tipped sideways.
Fred stood above him staring down at me. “What are you doing here?”
He looked forty. Much older than when I’d last seen him this close. “That’s what I should ask! You followed me?”
“I’m just looking for a victim. You just happened to be in the way.” He blew me off.
“Did Rick tell you I called?”
Fred sighed. “Yeah, so what?”
“So, I need your help. Wait, first, let’s start with a question. Do you enjoy killing people?”
His face twisted in annoyance. “Who would?”
“But you have to, to survive, right?”
“And?” He met my gaze now, the annoyance bleeding into his words.
“And I have the opposite problem. I lose years. For every one that passes, I lose three.”
That caught his attention. “How is that possible? What are you? A fairy or something?”
“Do those exist?” It was my turn to scrunch up my face.
“Not that I know of,” he shrugged, “but then again, I didn’t know what a succubus was until I almost killed my girlfriend.”
“I think we have a mutual deal forming here. I need to age, you need to suck life energy from someone. Neither of us is worse off if it doesn’t work. And it could buy you stability.” I was reaching for straws.
“Stability.” He tasted the word like I often tasted chocolate. “Okay, so what do I do?”
“Just, do your thing!” I stood up to my full three-foot height, arms wide. “Take as much as you want.”
“As much as—” His eyes widened and he considered me. “Really?”
“Well, I guess just don’t kill me, but yeah, within reason. I’m willing to go as old as fifty.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
His warm hand slipped onto my wrist. A thrill shot through me as I waited for the sensation.
“Wait!” I opened my eyes. “Can you take me back to my place if I pass out?”
“Oh, that won’t look creepy. A twenty-something year old carrying a passed out woman in his arms. Not to mention these clothes aren’t going to fit you anymore when you age.”
“Good point.” I assessed my ten-year-old wardrobe. “Should we just head to my house?”
He eyed me again, suspicious. “You’re serious?”
“Absolutely,” I assured him, already pulling him toward the mouth of the alley.
“What about him?”
I glanced back toward the man who now looked forty himself. “Who cares about him? Let’s go.”
Fred let me drag him all the way back to my place. After changing into very, very baggy clothes, I settled onto my couch and held out my hand expectantly.
Fred eyed it, and then me. “What if this kills you?”
“No biggy. I’d be dead in three years anyway. Heck, I should have died twenty years ago.”
He seemed to realize I wasn’t going to budge. I’ll never describe the sensation as comfortable, or even uncomfortable. It’s downright painful. Pass out I did, and when I woke, I was lying on my bed with the sound of sizzling bacon coming from down the stairs.
Unsteady and tired, I made my way into the bathroom and looked in awe at my reflection. About twenty. I smiled, pulled back my messy hair, and skipped down the stairs. “You’re a life saver!”
Fred eyed me, still uncertain. He looked about twenty now, maybe a little younger. “This feels weird.”
I slipped into the chair at my table and grinned wide. “Oh, this feels good. Is some of that for me?”
“No.” He shook his head and moved the bacon from the pan to a plate where eggs already waited. “No. I’m not sticking around here.”
“But, what about our deal?”
“No deal. I don’t trust you. I feel like I’m in some sort of crazy ‘Gotcha’ show. I’ve lived over twenty-eight years with this disease. You’re the first person I’ve found with the opposite problem.”
“Well you’re the first succubus I’ve ever met.” I stopped. “Wait, twenty-eight years ago?”
“Almost exactly. March sixth.”
“1982.” My jaw dropped.
“How?”
“That’s the exact date I drank the potion of youth. What were you doing when that happened?”
“Well, I was taking a math exam. Felt a bit of a fever come on, but I didn’t realize the problem until that night. Let’s just say my relationship with my girlfriend didn’t end of the best of terms.”
My mind spun. “Okay, putting that aside, I need you, and you need me. Will you at least consider staying in the area? We could meet up every few years.”
Fred considered this, finishing the last bite of his meal. “I dunno. Maybe. I’ve got your number. I’ll keep in touch.” He stood; tossed his dirty plate in the sink; and walked out my front door.
And that was the last I saw of him for about five years.
I was eight again, nearly panicking at the fact that there were still no signs of other succubae in the world. I didn’t even see him among the crush of waiting passengers. His hand snaked across the distance and I felt the familiar too-fast growing pains. He didn’t take much, just a year or two, but then he walked away and my ten-year-old legs struggled to keep up. He paused when we finally reached the surface streets. “Alright, look, I’m willing to do this with you, but no ties. No restrictions. I go where I want, I do what I want.”
“So long as you never let me get this young again.” I waved at myself. “I want to be a grownup.”
Fred chuckled. “Fine by me.” Grey hair peppered his beard and his dark hair. He’d trimmed it, but there was a slight thinning at the peak of his head.
“My place?”
“Sure.”
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