Zoey Rogue

chapter Seven: Zoey Cornered



“You are like a siren, washed up on my front porch.”

Zoey heard the voice through the haze of pain, dark and cold. She was freezing! Someone touched her, and warmth filled her, along with a desire so sharp, it made her eyes snap open. She sat.

“That usually works.” The Professor was seated in a chair beside her, smiling.

“What the f…” she drifted off at his raised eyebrow. “fudge.” Her head pulsed, and her skin was too cold to feel.

“Didn’t I tell you not to drink?”

“I had two at the club.”

“I took the liberty of reading-“ he started.

“Okay! And a few shots of vodka before we left. But that’s virtually not drinking for me,” she told him and clutched her head. She was on his porch, on the swing where she ended up more than once during her acquaintance with the Professor. “Can I come in?”

“Did you do anything I asked last night?” he asked in disapproval. He moved towards the front door.

Zoey pulled off her heels and checked herself. She was alive. No blood. No wounds. No missing weapons. Vikki must’ve dumped her off, knowing she had no Eric to go home to anymore.

The Professor was still talking. She stood, wobbled then walked into his house, trailing him to the study. He sat in one of the comfortable arm chairs before a blazing hearth. She sat at the other. There was a tray of tea waiting. With hands as steady as the branches they resembled, he poured them cups of tea. He took no sugar or cream in his while she heaped both into hers.

“Oh, god, Professor.” She leaned forward, headache making her nauseous.

“Yes, well, that’s what happens when you drink poison in your alcohol.”

“What?”

He gave her the unhappy look again. “You’ve been to how many clubs and bars? You should know better than to drink something you didn’t see mixed together.”

“You’re saying someone tried to kill me?” she asked. The idea made her headache worse. “Pleeeeeeeease?” She held out a shaking hand to him.

“I ought to let you suffer.” The words were meant to be firm, but he smiled. He took her hand.

Fire shot through her, making her skin so sensitive, the tightness of her dress hurt. Her breasts and core ached at the sex energy. But it cured her head. She pulled away, aroused and pissed.

“Who would want to kill me?”

“Every Cambion out there. You’re now the number one killer of Cambions,” he said proudly. “Why don’t you have tattoos marking the kills like the others?”

“Eric …” doesn’t like tattoos. she stopped. “Anyway, it’s too many to mark now. I’d spend all day at the tattoo parlor. Oh, Eric! He thought I was at the library. I’ve gotta go!” She rose too fast, and her head spun. Zoey tumbled back into the chair and rested her head against the back.

“We need to put you in finishing school,” the Professor said at her unladylike sprawl across from him.

“I need to go! Can you hit me again?” she asked, holding out her hand.

“Eric called this morning. Said he’d send your things here or to Vikki’s. I told him here.”

She lifted her head. “What?”

“I think you should go over there and face reality,” the Professor said, sipping his tea. “I’ll see what I can learn about the poisoning in the meantime. Then, when Eric kicks you out, you can come right back here and stay with me.”

“Why does that make you happy?” she demanded.

“He’s not your type.”

“This coming from a man who seduces women for a living?” She rose again, this time more carefully. “What exactly is my type?”

“Someone who can calm that fire of yours. Someone who you’d actually trust,” he replied. “You need someone who can balance you out and wring that sex energy out of you, or you’ll burn out soon.”

Zoey stared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my sex life. It’s normal. And I trust Eric. He’s normal, too.”

“But you are not. You will have to stop pretending one day.” He spoke calmly, as if discussing the weather for the next week.

There was too much truth to his words. She didn’t want to admit it. She wanted to be normal. She’d dreaded Eric proposing to her. Now that he’d decided to kick her out, she was frantic to regain what stability she’d had. Any thought of being poisoned disappeared as the sense of loss grew within her. She had to get to Eric.

Zoey made it to the hallway before the Professor spoke again.

“You want a ride? Or will you do the … what do you call it? The walk of shame? The morning after a –“

“A ride, old man!” she barked.

He chuckled.

Distraught, she waited at the door for his car to be pulled around. The chauffeur held open the back door, and she vaulted into it. The mile ride back to her home seemed like a hundred.

He pulled up to the apartment building finally, and she launched out of the car.

“Shall I wait?” the chauffeur called.

“No, I think …” There were boxes on the landing outside her apartment. With a heavy heart, she began to think the Professor was right. “I’ll be fine.”

Tired, Zoey trotted up the stairs to the door and hesitated. She thought about knocking then strode in. Eric was in the center of the living room, taping up another box. He’d made the effort to fold all her clothing into neat, crisp stacks awaiting their own box. He straightened.

“Hi,” she said.

“You’re letting the cold air in.”

She closed the door and leaned against it.

“Dressed for the library.” His gaze swept over her.

Zoey glanced down, face growing hot as she realized she’d left in jeans and a sweater and returned dressed like a tramp. She glanced towards the mirror, horrified by the sight of her runny makeup.

“Is this … is this because I freaked out yesterday?” she asked quietly, motioning to the boxes. “Because I really didn’t mean I wouldn’t marry you. Just that I needed –“

“To think, I know,” he said, anger in his voice. “That wasn’t the reason.”

“Then what, Eric? I thought things were going well until last night,” she said, confused. “What have I done? Whatever it is, I’m sure I can fix it.”

“If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?”

“Of course.”

“How many men?”

She stared at him. It was a loaded question. “You’ll have to be more specific.” As soon as the answer left her mouth, she knew it was the wrong one.

“So, it’s true.” A look of pain crossed his features. “You’ve been cheating on me.”

“No. Absolutely not,” she said quickly. “I never cheated on you.”

“What do you call this?” He whipped out his phone and handed it to her.

She stared at it then glanced down. It wasn’t the same dress. It was the one she’d woken up in yesterday morning, after the night she couldn’t remember. Someone snapped a picture of her making out with someone she didn’t remember, in the middle of a trendy club she didn’t recognize. She swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to explain it while struggling with why she didn’t remember the interaction.

“Tory recognized you and sent this to me.”

“Did she see what happened next?” Zoey asked.

“What?”

“I mean, this doesn’t prove I cheated on you. So I kissed some guy.”

“You kissed some guy.” He repeated in disbelief. “After lying to me about the library and not coming home at all last night.” His hands shook as he took back the phone. “I was ready to spend my life with you, Zoey.”

The hurt in his voice crushed her. “We still can,” she said. “I swear to you, Eric, I never slept with any of those guys.”

“Dear god,” he whispered, paling. “How many?”

“Well …” she tried to remember an approximate number. If she was the number one Cambion killer, that meant she’d beaten Vikki’s record of 560 in a year. Had she made out with all of them? Mostly, yes, she admitted.

“How many f*cking men did you make out with while lying to me about being at the library or in class?” Eric roared.

Taken aback, she was quiet. He flung the phone and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling.

“A couple hundred,” she lied.

He gasped.

“Okay, maybe a few hundred. I really don’t remember.”

“Why were you … wasn’t I enough for you?” he asked, the heartbreak in his voice making her eyes water.

“Eric, I swear, it was business, not personal, and I never slept with any of them,” she insisted.

“Get out.” The words were a whisper.

“No, Eric, please let me explain. It has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I meant to tell you-“

“There is nothing you can say that will fix this,” he said. “Nothing, Zoey. There is no possible excuse you can give me as to why you were making out with other men! It’s completely unacceptable behavior!”

“I didn’t sleep with them.”

“I don’t care! You and I were a couple. That meant we weren’t sleeping around, making out with or kissing other people!”

She hadn’t really thought of it that way. She’d sworn not to cheat, which meant sleeping around. The rest…well, she took some pleasure in it. But it was still a job. Her throat tightened. She didn’t know what to say. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

“Get out. Please.” There were tears in his eyes, and the words were choked.

This was real. He was breaking up with her. For the first time this morning, Zoey understood what was happening. There was no fixing this. There was no going back to how things were yesterday.

“I’m sorry, Eric. I know it doesn’t help. But I do love you. If you…change your mind, just call,” she said lamely. “I don’t want my job to come between us.”

“Your job didn’t come between us. Several hundred men did.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. In that light, she was a shitbag. She fumbled for the doorknob and opened the front door, unable to bring herself to look at the photo collage next to the entrance. Outside, her new life was cold, wet and miserable. She wanted the warm, gentle life inside the apartment.

The Professor’s car waited. Somehow, he knew she’d be coming back. Maybe because he knew where she belonged, even if she refused to believe it.

With a deep breath, Zoey left the apartment and returned to the Professor’s car. She wanted to sob herself to sleep and wake up somewhere else or to beg Eric to take her back. The look on his face – revulsion – was too much for her. He thought her the lowliest person on the planet. It didn’t help how she handled his proposal.

Eric was too good for her. He deserved someone better. She’d always known that, but she’d never wanted to let him go. He was all that kept her feet on the ground.

“Welcome home,” the Professor called as she walked into the house a few minutes later.

“I’m gonna take a shower and go kill things,” she replied, trotting up the stairs to the second floor.

“Dimitri called. Vikki is in the hospital. He didn’t have his channel open last night and had no idea until I told him about you.”

Zoey stopped, heart dropping. “Is she okay?”

“He got there in time. She’ll be fine. Looks like she got poisoned, too,” the Professor was thoughtful.

“Dimitri is a dick. Why didn’t he know she was in trouble?” Zoey demanded, furious for more than one reason.

“Go clean up and get presentable. We’ll talk about something,” the Professor looked grave.

Zoey didn’t hesitate, sensing he was about to tell her one of his secrets. She wanted … needed something to distract her from her emotions. She wasn’t ready to face the pain yet or the reality of losing Eric. Maybe in a few days, he’d change his mind.

Her hands trembled as she turned on the shower. She had to make it a few days without succumbing to the sex energy spinning through her. Eric would call, and things would go back to the way they were.

Fully dressed half an hour later, she trotted down the stairs to the Professor’s study. His magic ensnared her, erased her body’s tension, while the scent of his cigar soothed her. She felt tired. Her gaze went to the food he had waiting for her near the fire. Her favorite meal of the day was breakfast. When she could, she ate it all day long. An omelet, toast and bacon sat on the tray, along with coffee, two liters of water and painkillers

“Sometimes, that gets annoying,” she told him with no heat. She crossed to it.

“Wanting to help you?” he asked innocently.

“Reading my mind. Humans can help each other without doing that.”

“We’re not human, dear, and I can’t read your mind without touching you. I simply pay attention to what I think will make you happy.”

“Sorry, Professor,” she muttered.

“Shut up and eat, kiddo.”

Zoey obeyed. She shoveled the fresh, hot food into her mouth, almost groaning at the pleasure of eating. Her dinner with Eric seemed so far away. Weeks ago, not last night.

“I’m not sure a finishing school could help you,” the Professor said as he joined her. “You eat like a ravenous wolf.”

“I kill things. That’s what matters,” she said around a mouthful of toast. “Vikki and I are the best.”

“You are,” he agreed. “She’ll be home from the hospital today. Why don’t you move in with her to see how it goes?”

“To spy on her.”

“Yes.”

A pang of sorrow slid through her. Zoey pushed it away. She sat back, her plate clean.

“I saw nothing troubling in your memories of last night,” the Professor said. “She was poisoned, too. I think it too much of a risk for her to poison herself. She knows how Dimitri is.”

“You mean, angry, bitter and Halfling-hating?” she asked.

The Professor smiled. “You asked me something yesterday. I wasn’t sure how to tell you.”

She perked, sensing he was going to reveal something.

“The reason we can’t read Vikki’s mind is because she has already fallen to an Incubus,” the Professor said. “When an Incubus claims a Halfling as his… I guess wife is the nearest equivalent. Doesn’t really fit, but you’ll understand it better that way.”

“What do you call it?” she asked, irked.

“Soul-mate.”

“I understand that fine.”

“Not this way. An Incubus can have one soul-mate in life. They literally share a soul, unlike that sappy human version of a couple who happen to have similar enough interests to be friends,” he said with some distaste. “An Incubus can connect his soul to one Halfling in his lifetime. It binds them like no other force. Only male offspring are born to an Incubus, just like only female offspring are born to a Succubus. Incubuses breed with Halflings in order to produce Incubus heirs. The offspring born of an Incubus and a human are Cambions.”

“I knooooooooow,” she said impatiently. “Olivia gave a presentation once and said Succubae don’t have kids; they make us in a laboratory.”

“Halflings, yes,” he answered. “Her predecessor perfected the art of creating genetically-gifted Halflings able to use the magic of your enemies, so you can kill them. A full Succubus, though, is born from a Succubus mother and a Cambion.”

“I don’t like Succubae enough to care where they come from.”

“It’s important for you to understand, since Halflings like you are sought after to continue the Incubus bloodline. Our societies are interdependent, even though we full-bloods try to pretend we aren’t.”

“I do understand. I just don’t care, Professor. Thank god I’m afraid of commitment. There’s no way I’m getting caught up with some Incubus,” she said. “You think Vikki found her soul-mate?”

“A woman does not find her soul-mate, dear. He finds her. The instinct to claim his wife is undeniable for an Incubus,” he chided. “But yes. It is the only thing that can displace the bond Hunters have with their guardians.”

“Awesome, except I’m guessing that means she’s bound to an Incubatti,” Zoey said. “That’s bad.”

“Very,” he said. “Dimitri figured it out last night, when he went to the hospital. He had the very unfortunate job of tracking down the Incubatti to come save his wife. That conversation did not go well. It’s not something I’ll be presenting to the Enforcers.”

“You’re going to lie to them?” she asked, astonished. “Is that possible?”

“I won’t lie to them if they ask. But I won’t bring it up,” he said. “If they have no reason to read my mind, they won’t.”

“What if I go before the Enforcers?”

“I suspect they won’t need you.”

Zoey studied him, not liking this discussion at all. Her best friend somehow married into the mob for a reason outside her control, and now the good guys were going to fry her for it. Never mind Zoey couldn’t lie to a Succubus, let alone a super-Incubus Enforcer. Her personal life was in the shitter. Now, her professional one was about to follow.

“There is something else.”

“I don’t want to know anything else,” she said, standing.

“The members of Team R were grouped for a reason.”

“We’re not blonde. We know. Dimitri tells us all the time,” she snapped.

“You’re marked.”

“Meaning …”

“Team R is the code name we gave to the Hunters we discover who are Incubus soul-mates or who will become one. It’s not easy finding your kind.”

She stared at him then laughed. “No way, Professor. I’m firmly on the Cambion-killing side of the line.”

“Yes way. You lied to me yesterday, Zoey, when I asked you about how you ended up on my porch the first time.”

“I was drunk. I don’t remember that night.”

He rolled his eyes, mimicking her reaction to him. “You weren’t dumped on my porch by accident. You were brought here by the Incubus that marked you as his. We chose to watch you for years to see how suitable you’d be for our kind, like we do all the Halflings, before we select who we want to recruit to become Hunters. We determined you weren’t suitable at all. The general assessment was that you would’ve been a truly gifted warrior for us but were too prone to irrationality, stubbornness, poor judgment and misdirected passion.”

Zoey wasn’t surprised. She didn’t fit in with the Succubus society, their rules or the girls they collected to fight their battles.

“But, you were intended for an Incubus who disagreed with the decision. He marked you and dropped you off on my porch swing one night. He didn’t claim you, which allowed me to bond with you as your guardian. I guess you were brought for safekeeping.”

“That’s just ridiculous. Vikki was recruited, and she’s on Team R.”

“She wasn’t marked until recently. She probably ran across her soul-mate while killing off his Cambions or something. He figured it out, and she’s feeding him all the information he needs to undermine the Sucubatti. The tension between the societies has been growing for years now. They both employ these types of tactics.”

Agitated, Zoey struggled to take in everything he told her. He released more magic. She glared at him, wanting to feel the anger he pushed away.

“I need you moderately coherent for this conversation,” he said firmly. “Has any of this made it through that hard head of yours?”

“Vikki’s an involuntary traitor, I’m marked or whatever by some random Incubus. I’m gonna have to lie to the Enforcer inquiry and my whole world went to shit in a matter of twenty four hours!”

“Good.”

“I hate my life.”

“If it helps, our assessment of you was incorrect. What we thought were weaknesses, you have turned into strengths. You’re fearless to the point of foolish, and you’re a ruthless, resourceful killer. Your judgment has improved some, though your insistence that you can live a double-life without things blowing up for you is ignorant. Perhaps, someone else will convince you, since I could not.”

Accustomed to the backhanded compliments of a creature that thought itself superior to half-breeds and humans, she listened quietly until his last, thoughtful sentence. Zoey’s gaze went from the hearth to him.

“Are you leaving?” she asked, concerned.

“No, dear.”

“Are you dying?”

“No. I am … preparing you in the case you need a new guardian to temper your magic.”

“Why?”

“You trust me, don’t you, my dear?”

“You know I do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It took what? Years for me to win that war with you. I’ll take a victory by attrition.”

She studied him. She trusted him more than anyone else in the world, fully aware she’d never know if he lied to her. He’d taken many chances on her when the Sucubatti openly ridiculed her lack of discipline and ambition. The Professor treated her well and put up with the sarcasm and wit that got her kicked out of a lot of classes. He’d believed in her since the beginning. It struck her that she never knew why.

“You can’t leave me or die or transfer or kick me out,” she told him firmly. “I will leave the Sucubatti if any of those things happen. I don’t want anything to do with this stupid organization.”

“What would you do? Kill Cambions on your own?”

“Yeah. Why not?” she asked with a shrug. “I hate them. I can kill more Cambions in a week without the stupid rules than I do now.”

“You’d be dead in three days. You can’t control the sex energy without a guardian, and I am too old to sustain you as it is. You know this, Zoey. Before too long, you will need a new guardian.”

“No. I only want you.” She rubbed her face. She wasn’t going to tell him she felt like she had been shorting out with her inability to manage the sex energy for quite some time.

“The rules are there to protect you.”

“I know,” she admitted. “You’re worrying me. You’re telling me my best friend is a traitor and I lost Eric already. I never asked for this, but I’ve always outperformed everyone else, not because of the Sucubatti or their goddamn rules. I’ve done it for you and to help people who can’t help themselves. You’re all I have, Alexander. I can’t lose you, too.”

“My sweet, noble warrior.” His tone was tender, and his eyes sparkled with tears.

Surprised at the display, Zoey reached out to him and squeezed his hand.

“Please tell me you’re not dying or leaving me,” she whispered, panic spiraling through her at the idea of being alone. “Please.”

“I’m not,” he confirmed. “You remind me of someone I knew once.”

“In a good way?”

He laughed, a rich, rolling sound.

“Good.” She realized – not for the first time – that she didn’t know much about him at all. She knew only a few years worth of Alexander. He’d lived thousands of years.

“I am glad your soul-mate saw what we missed.”

“Is it you?” she asked. She’d wanted to avoid that part of the conversation completely, but the idea Alexander was meant to spend his life with her was a nice one. “You won’t be lonely anymore.”

He laughed harder this time.

“Why is that funny?” she asked archly. “You don’t want to deal with me the rest of your life, do you?”

“Oh, my dear, you have brought this old man such peace,” he said. He clasped the hand he held with both of his. “It is not I who am intended for you. But he will come for you soon. He must, within a few days.”

“That’s not gonna work for me,” she said. “Eric is going to call me back like, tomorrow probably, and we’ll be getting married. I kinda have plans.”

“If you believed that, you would’ve said yes last night,” the Professor replied gently. “You’re not meant for Eric. You know this.”

“No, I don’t!” she said, voice rising. “It can still work out. Whatever this shit is about a soul-mate, I don’t have one. If any Incubus comes near me, I’m pretty sure I can kill him. No, I know I can. I mean, I’ve taken on six Cambions alone. I can kill one Incubus. I had a dream I did.”

“A dream. Recently?”

“Two nights ago. Really weird,” she said and shook her head. “It seemed real, but I woke up on your porch.”

The Professor was thoughtful.

“I bet I could do it,” she said again.

“I would like to be there when you tell your soul-mate this,” he said. “It would make for an intriguing exchange.”

“If he exists, I’ll tell him exactly that. No more of this nonsense, Professor.”

“As you wish, my dear.”

“Okay. Good.” She eyed him. “I’m going to Vikki’s. I’ll search her room before she gets back.”

“You’re running away, because what I told you terrifies you.”

“Any objections?”

“Only, don’t talk about killing Incubuses to others. It’s a sensitive subject right now.”

“I’m just joking.” She studied him. “Did something bad happen?”

The Professor shook his head.

Unconvinced, Zoey rose and grabbed her jacket from the coat rack near the door. She could hardly breathe right, and the cold air felt good in her lungs. She didn’t believe there were Incubus soul-mates or that Eric wasn’t going to call her. In a few days, everything would be normal. The Professor would stop revealing secrets to her, Eric would welcome her home, and she and Vikki would be out killing Cambions.

The pain in her chest stopped her in the middle of the street. She bent over and forced herself to breathe deeply. Her whole world was imploding. If anything the Professor told her was true, she was f*cked.

He was always right.

Tears stung her eyes. She straightened and jogged through the drizzle to the dorms. She had a key to Vikki’s and let herself in. Vikki’s stock of alcohol was second only to a bar’s.

Zoey crossed to the mini-bar area and pulled a bottle of vodka out of the freezer. She knocked back a mouthful. She coughed and drank more. Without the Professor there to stabilize her, she needed the alcohol to calm her blood. When she felt better, she began to search Vikki’s room.

Nothing stood out, except the journal buried in a shoebox under Vikki’s bed. Zoey set the box on the bed and sat, gazing at the journal. Vikki was a tech-junkie; journals weren’t her thing, which meant, this was something of sentimental value or extremely personal. Zoey hesitated to open it, not wanting to find evidence that her best friend was what the Professor believed her to be.

Hoping it was an old journal from childhood or something, Zoey purposely ignored the near mint condition of the cover and the crisp, white pages that smelled of recent plastic wrapping. The first entry was dated three weeks ago.

Zoey closed it, heart pounding and hands shaking.

Not my Vikki, she prayed silently. With a deep breath, she opened it.

I met him last night. The Incubatti who marked me. What does that shit even mean? He said I had three strikes. When I asked what that meant, he told me he’d tell me after we made love.

Zoey grimaced at the four pages describing their sex on the first night. She skipped ahead, wanting to know what the three strikes was about.

He’s worse than f*cking Dimitri when it comes to answering questions. He talks in riddles or these weird vague sentences. If I asked him what color the sky was, he’d say it wasn’t red or some shit. I didn’t expect him to answer the question I asked him before we had sex. But he did.

He said “three strikes, you’re mine.” When I asked him what that meant, he smiled then said “strike one” and left. Are we playing f*cking baseball here?

Zoey snorted, hearing Vikki’s irritation through the words. That ended the first entry. The second was a few days later.

It’s getting worse. I had the whole f*cking football team in here tonight. Nothing sates my appetite. Not killing, not men. Nothing, but him.

Dimitri said he’s going to transfer me soon after my b-day. I asked him where, but he’s a jackass as usual. I’ll just keep doing what I’m doing. I’m too good for them to get rid of, right?

The third was written a week before.

I gave in. I couldn’t take it. I called him and went over. What the football team couldn’t do, he did in an hour. I thought I was dying when I showed up on his doorstep. I got my transfer orders. When I told him, he laughed. I asked him why, and he acted like I was an idiot. Said didn’t I know what happens to Hunters that are “transferred?” I said, duh, they go somewhere else.

Zoey laughed.

He’s an Incubatti. He can’t be telling the truth. I can’t do this. I can’t be with him – he’s the enemy, right? But I can’t NOT be with him. I can’t live without him, and whatever this bond is, he’s got to have me, too. What motivation does he have for lying to me? What if what he says is true? I mean, we never hear from the girls who transfer out, and no one who hits their 22nd birthday stays here. I’m next to turn, and then Zoey. What if something bad happens when I transfer, and I can’t warn her? She’s been like a little sister to me. I have to find out.

Zoey read on, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach. She felt dirty for doubting Vikki after the statement about being like a sister to her. Confusion spun through her. Was what Vikki did so wrong? She didn’t have a choice in who she fell for, according to the Professor. So why were the Enforcers coming to punish her when she was bound to one of their kind?

Dread made Zoey hesitate before turning to the next entry. She’d never thought twice about the girls who transferred out at the age of twenty two. The Benefactors said they went to work at satellite offices across the country or at the hidden Sucubatti headquarters for the Council and the Internal Affairs Bureau. That location was secluded, probably on some island or remote area, because everyone knew the leaders of the society were so powerful, they’d melt humans. Enforcers were said to have magic like theirs. She didn’t know what made them special, but if even the Benefactors revered them, it was because they were stronger than anything Zoey could imagine.

Not people she looked forward to lying to, that was certain. She wasn’t afraid; she just hoped they killed her quickly. IAB was known for killing off people who broke rules. What would an Incubatti Enforcer do?

Even worse, what if the Professor was telling the truth that Zoey had a soul-mate? Would the Sucubatti kill or transfer her, if the Enforcers spared her?

She’d never go down without a fight. The Enforcers would have to kill her. Her own fate was less of a concern than that of Vikki.

The final entry of the journal was dated today.

Figured out what strike three was this morning, after Liam came to get me from the f*cking hospital. I’m so f*cked. They’re sending Enforcers to do to me what they do to everyone else who turns twenty two. I know. I have a choice. I can go to Liam. He’ll protect me. How do I live with myself if I live in the same place as the Cambions who kill girls like me for fun? I don’t know what to do. Liam won’t let me stay here, if I’m in danger.

I’ll really miss Zoey.

Zoey closed the journal. She was panicking again. Snatching the vodka, she drank until her throat burned then sat on the bed, head in her hands.

Her phone rang. She ignored it. The caller hung up then tried again. Suddenly, she realized it might be Eric. Zoey dug it out of her pocket to see the Professor’s name on the screen. She ignored it. He’d know, but right now, she didn’t need a reminder not to have a meltdown or to stop drinking.

He texted. IAB headed to your location to search Vikki’s room before she returns. I have tea ready.

It was his way of ordering her home. Not wanting to be there when the IAB came, Zoey rose. She grabbed the journal, replaced the shoebox under the bed and left quickly, vodka in hand.

By the time she reached the Professor’s, she was dizzy from chugging alcohol. She tucked the journal in the band of her jeans and pulled her sweater over it. She hadn’t thought twice about taking the evidence the IAB sought, and she wasn’t about to let the Professor see it either.

Vikki had no choice. She was hurting, like Zoey was.

“I’m gonna lay down,” she called into the study.

“A woman stopped by today. Quite a beautiful one,” the Professor started. He appeared in the hallway as she started up the stairs.

“Succubus?” Zoey asked.

“A human,” he replied. “Maybe there is something to your obsession with that race.”

“It’s not an obsession. It’s what normal people do!”

“Yes, dear.” He smiled. “She had a very interesting proposition. Are you too drunk to hear it?”

“Not yet,” she said, waving the bottle of vodka. “I will be in a few minutes.”

He did not look pleased. She sighed and stopped halfway up the stairs, sitting on a step.

“What, Professor?” she asked. “I don’t know any human women.”

“She knew you. Can you guess?”

She gripped her head. The world was already a bit hazy.

“Apparently not,” he continued. “She said you rescued her and wanted to offer you her skill set to help you combat Cambions.”

Zoey gazed at him blankly.

The Professor frowned. “Friday night? Frat house? You’re unapproved mission?”

“Oh, yeah.” Zoey thought hard, barely recalling the girl’s face that she rescued.

“In any case, the girl’s name is Chrissy. She’s a drop out from MIT.”

“A drop out?” she smiled. “I like her already.”

“I had a feeling you were a little overwhelmed and took the liberty of setting up a meeting with her. If what she says makes sense, I’ll send her your way. Okay?”

“What did she say?”

“She brought a couple of examples of what she can do. They’re on your bed for your next mission.”

Curious and near-drunk, Zoey wobbled to her feet and ascended the rest of the stairs. She went to her room, puzzled to see nothing more than a pair of high heels and a dress neatly folded on her bed. There was a note with it.

Zoey:

This was the least I could do to repay you for saving me. The heels have titanium-reinforced knives. Simply tap your heels together at an angle to engage. You won’t need to buy another pair for a few months, if you keep the blades and hinges oiled. No more buying in bulk! The dress is made of special material that will let you move easily. I believe in what you are doing. If you like what you see, please contact me, and I will be happy to help you.

Sincerely,

Chrissy

Struggling to focus through her alcohol-induced haze, Zoey picked up the intriguing high heels first and examined them. She held them away from her body cautiously then clacked the heels together three times before getting the angle correct. The two-inch thick, stacked plastic concealing the weapons snapped away like wings, revealing an inch-thick knife four inches long on each heel. The knives were sharp and shiny. She pressed the wings back over one heel’s knife, surprised at how easily they snapped into place.

Next, she lifted the dress. Amazed by how light the material was, she tugged at it to test. It flexed easily, as promised. Zoey set down the dress and grabbed her bottle of vodka.

If the world wasn’t ending, she’d take up this Chrissy’s offer to help. As it was, it almost seemed too little, too late. She sat on her bed and let the tears come. The vodka was blurring her vision already.

She couldn’t let anything happen to Vikki. She didn’t know what to do. Eric hadn’t called. Everything was going wrong.