Laurell Hamilton - Nightseer

She gasped and said, “Magic.”

“It will always be a matter of magic for us, Keleios. No mere rutting, no matter what you have heard of Loltun men.”

There was a slight smell in the air. Keleios asked, “Do you smell sulphur?”

He tested the air. “Yes.”

They looked at each other and rolled off the bed, he to one side and she to the other.

A blinding flash of light, and through spot-clouded eyes, they saw something in the room.

It was taller than a human but not much. As Keleios’ vision cleared, the shape took form. There was no time for weapons as the Demon Goddess Elvinna stalked toward Lothor. He saw his danger, but his eyes were not clear. His hand went out, and an energy bolt shot from it. It went wide and fell sizzling on a tapestry.

She came on, golden sword upraised. Her voice was low and melodious. “I always keep my promises, half-elves.”

Keleios closed her eyes from the distraction of her ruined sight and began to build a spell. She pulled her scattered magics inside, and Lothor yelled, “Keleios.”

She went flat along the floor and felt the heat rush overhead as a wave of fire consumed the wall hanging behind her. The spell was ruined for now, but her sight was back, somewhat blurred but good enough. Bolts of power shot from the other side of the room.

The succubus screamed as some hit home, but a bedpost collapsed at a blow from her sword. Lothor tumbled near the door. A wave of flame crawled up the door before he

could reach it.

Keleios crawled away from the burning tapestry. The fire, being magic, consumed the hanging but did not spread. It sputtered and died when its target was consumed. Keleios knelt and tried something simpler but more dangerous. She called sorcery to her hands without forming it in her thoughts first. It was quicker but much more dangerous. She hit blindly with power, not really sure what she would call to her hand. A ragged bolt of lighting thudded into the demon’s side and knocked her backward. Keleios followed it with another, letting the lightning spill out of her hand like water. That gave Lothor enough time to reach his ax. A soul-bound enchantment could never really be separated from its maker. He had needed only a moment to call it to him.

Fire crawled up the ceiling hungrily.

A bolt of ragged white blasted from the end of his ax and drove the demon to its knees. She screamed and raged at him. A hand, shaped like a talon, struck at him. Tiny bolts of sickly green danced along Lothor’s body, and he shrieked.

Keleios had drawn her spell complete, controlled and whole. Having internalized the succubus’s nature, she understood now. She drew cold, not of winter winds, but of man. The coldness of an empty bed, a lonely room. The winter gale howling outside and you alone. No arms to hold you, no one to lust after you, alone. No followers to worship you. When she threw the spell, there was no icy bolt, only a faint shimmering round the demon.

Elvinna shrieked. She threw back her head and howled. She forgot to attack the man. She forgot everything but loneliness. Her cries echoed as she faded away. With her leaving, the magic flames began to die, leaving charred ruin behind them.

Lothor stayed on hands and knees, shaking his head, his ax still loosely gripped in his hand.

Keleios knelt beside him, touching his sweating shoulder tentatively. “Are you all right?” He nodded and said hoarsely, “What was that last spell?”

“It was something against the true nature of a succubus.”

“How would you know the true nature of a succubus?”

“I killed one with Ache silvestri and absorbed it.”

He grinned, a pale version of his usual leer. “You absorbed the nature of a succubus. Now that should add spice in the bedchamber.”

She was surprised to feel a blush creeping up her cheeks.

There was a pounding on the door. Madga’s voice yelled, “Keleios, Keleios, don’t kill him. You’re liable to bum the whole place down.” The tramping beat of guards’ boots were loud in the corridor.

Someone asked, “Where is the key?”

Keleios looked around the ruined wreck of the room. All the tapestries were scorched, and one, in tattered ruins. The bed was half-collapsed and fire touched.

His smile broadened. “If bedding you is always this exciting, I shall not live out the summer.”

She smiled and a giggle escaped her lips. His own lips trembled. And they began to laugh. It was good, healthy laughter, and it bubbled out of both of them. Tension flowed away on a sound of laughter.

Keleios thought enough to hand Lothor his nightshirt to cover his lap, and the door opened.

Guards rushed in and found nothing to fight. Methia strode in and nearly screamed when she saw the room. “Verm’s Wyrms, sister, can’t I trust you not to destroy every room I give you?”

Lothor stood and tried to explain, but the nightshirt fell to the floor and left him bare. Methia screamed, “Cover yourself!”

Lothor said, “There is no reason to shriek.” Keleios handed Lothor his nightshirt, eyes shining with suppressed laughter. He began to explain, and Methia, to yell. Keleios tugged a piece of charred bedpost from under her gown, and the laughter bubbled up full throated. Lothor and Methia turned at almost the same time.

Methia yelled, “What are you laughing about?” Lothor winked at Keleios, behind her back. Keleios fell backward on to the scarred floor and laughed until she cried.