Loving the Succubus

First Date

"Aren't you worried you'll get caught?" Picasso asked after sufficient distance had been made from the coffeehouse.

"In this, the City of Angels?" Marfa asked rhetorically. 

The sun had set and they had found themselves in an unlit park. They sat on a bench.

Picasso thought about it for a while. The older woman had a point: beautiful women were pretty common in L.A. The way Marfa was dressed currently could describe most middle-aged women who came into a coffeehouse at six in the evening.  For all the police knew, she could've taken a few self-defense classes. Also, the area was trendy enough that cat eyes would've been passed off as some body mod.

"I've never met a Succubus before," Picasso blurted out. "I'm guessing Nephlim?"

On September 11, 2001, a group of terrorists attempted to hijack a couple of planes in an attempt to crash them into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and the White House. Unfortunately, American Airlines flight 11 had as ten nobles of the Winter Court of Faery on the flight, aka the Wild Hunt, aka the Fae Court well-known for being quite touchy about being screamed at by swarthy mortals.

Witnesses said that what drew their ire was that one of the terrorists tried to rape a nine year old girl and pistol whipped the father for intervening. Unbenost to the terrorists, the Wild Hunt, being a traditionally matriarchal society, was known for using castration as a means of punishing rapists. 

Doctors said that the would-be terrorists probably lost blood long before realising what hit them. News of the Wild Hunt's act of vigilantism reached the hostages in the other two planes, and gave them courage to fight back. 

The nobles who thwarted one of the biggest attacks on American soil since Pearl Harbor did the talk circuit for a while before going back to their realm.

It was fortunate that people were into the whole idea of magic at the time. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire had come out a year ago, along with the movie adaptation of the books. It made things a whole lot easier for the public. The occasional religious nuts talking shit, but that was expected.

Picasso was intrigued especially at the Daemons. Turns out, they were simply elemental creatures, the most powerful being the Incubi and Succubi, whom, it turned out, didn't need to kill their lovers to feed off of their energy. In fact, they didn't really need to have sex with the Donor to get the energy. As long as they were very, very careful, the person in question would, at worse, sleep for a couple of hours.

Picasso's thoughts were interrupted by a sudden bloom of light and then darkness. Marfa was smoking a cigarette, carefully blowing the smoke away from the younger man's face. 

"I'm not sure how to ask this question without offending you," he said hesitantly.

"I have not had a lover in six months, so I mind not your query," Marfa replied, flicking the ash from the tip of her cancer stick. In the light, he noticed an impish smile bloom on her face.

"Three years," Picasso said, answering her unanswered question. "Since my last girlfriend. I don't believe in flings or one night stands, so I decided to devote myself to art."

"You need not justify you actions to me, be at peace," Marfa teased. "I understand your implication. I will allow you to lead me to your bed."

Picasso gulped. "Ok then."