“I had his eventually.”
My gaze narrowed. An incubus was a sex demon. They came in the night; they seemed like a dream. They had sex with their victims, sucking energy from them during the act like a vampire sucked blood, leaving the sufferers pale and dazed. Eventually they would die, and no one would ever know why.
Historically, an incubus was a man who preyed on women, while a succubus was a woman who preyed on men, but they could also be bisexual if they chose. I was pretty certain most chose. When dealing with a demon that ingested sex like canapés, I had a hard time believing they’d be bound by anything as minor as sexuality.
“What did the trick?” I asked.
“Evisceration.”
“Messy.”
Bram smiled for the first time I’d ever seen. “Very.”
“How’d you figure out the best way to kill one?”
“I didn’t spend half my life in a seminary without learning a thing or two about demons, and what I didn’t know off the top of my head, I knew how to find out.”
“In a copy of Incubi for Dummies?”
He gave a half laugh, which made me like him all the more. Some people found me . . . not funny.
“You’d be surprised what you can discover in the dusty corners of a seminary library.”
“So you were excommunicated for rearranging the insides of your monsignor on the outside?”
“No.”
“What the hell else did you do?”
“Nothing.” He lifted one shoulder then lowered it. “There.”
“You better explain.”
“There wasn’t a body.” He clapped his hands, then his fingers made the gesture of rain while he whispered, “Whoosh.”
“Ashes. Which means they had nothing on you.”
“Except I’d accused the man of horrible things, then I’d stabbed him, and then he disappeared.”
“And then?”
“I ran.”
“Good choice.”
“They aren’t looking for me. I’d be an embarrassment. The priest who thought he saw a demon.”
“You did see a demon. How could the church refuse to believe that? Aren’t they in the anti-demon business?”
“They were. But hellish fiends are something from the Middle Ages. Certainly there’s evil. We can’t not concede that when it’s in our face all the time, but demons?” He shook his head. “Quite a stretch. Besides, what were they going to do? Pray the Nephilim away?”
“I don’t think that works.”
“It doesn’t. The priests I knew were gentle men of charity and hope. They couldn’t kill things.”
“So what happened to you?”
“I witnessed the truth. Over and over and over again until I couldn’t not kill them.”
The more I talked to this guy, the more I wondered just how random his showing up to save my ass had been. I’d come to understand in the last few months that random just wasn’t what it used to be.
“You saw the draugars in a dream?” He nodded. “Did you see me?”
“No. I saw the cemetery and the Vikings. They were attacking a really big, colorful bird that shot fire from its wings.” He frowned. “You see anything like that?”
I forced myself not to scratch the very itchy tattoo at my nape. “Not me.”
“First I thought it was an actual nightmare. I have those sometimes. But the same dream kept returning night after night, and when that happens, I have to act or never find a moment’s peace.” He tilted his head. “I wonder what that weird bird was.”
“Maybe the girl’s name was Robin.”
“This bird wasn’t a robin. More like a—” He glanced at the sun. “Thunderbird. That would make sense around here.”
“Because?”
“The Sioux say the thunderbird is huge and many-colored with the power of the storm and command of the rain. The flap of their wings is the thunder; the breeze created by the beat brings together the clouds, and when the thunderbird blinks the flash of its eyes is the lightning.”
Sounded pretty phoenix-y to me, but most cultures had their own version of every legend.
“In the old days the thunderbirds killed monsters,” Bram continued.
“Which means they weren’t one.”
“Anything can become a monster if it chooses to be.”
Bram reminded me of Xander Whitelaw, who’d been a prophecy professor at an Indiana Bible college. Intelligent, knowledgeable, yet innocent in so many ways, nevertheless I’d sent him looking for clues about both the Key of Solomon and the Book of Samyaza. Big mistake.
He’d found the location of the key. Unfortunately, the Nephilim had found him. I still had nightmares.
The loss of Xander had been a big one. He’d known a lot and what he hadn’t known, he’d been able to discover.
My gaze took in Bram’s hard hands, bulging biceps, and collection of crosses. I didn’t think he’d be killed as easily as Xander.
“You’re sure you don’t want to join the federation?” I asked.
“I’m sure.”
I wasn’t willing to give up that easily. “How’d you like to freelance?”
He lifted a brow. “I’m listening.”
“Ever heard of the Key of Solomon?”
“I was a priest,” he said.