Lilitu: The Memoirs of a Succubus

PART I

Rebirth

August—September, 1876

CHAPTER ONE

Shadows in the Sky

I was still mortal, the night it all began. My dreams were still my own. I still believed what my parents told me.

My sister Gladys and I were on our way to a ball, riding in a coach over a bumpy road. Outside, the grassy English countryside passed us by, a dark sky warning us of a coming storm. Pearly white fog licked the windows, its curious tendrils threatening to creep inside.

Gladys sat across from me, her face slack with boredom. “They’re going to think you’re in mourning,” she said. “We’re going to spend the whole night telling everyone ‘No, our parents are most certainly alive.’”

Her comment was due to the fact that I was wearing a black dress. Her own glistened gold and flattered her figure, an hourglass next to my pear. She would undoubtedly acquire many suitors tonight. Our parents had already taken their own coach to the ball a half-hour prior, and when Gladys and I arrived, Father would inevitably introduce us to gentlemen of dull wit and duller demeanor. Our family had money thanks to Father’s business, but we lacked titles. As I was twenty, and Gladys eighteen, Father had decided it was time for us to elevate the family name.

“I’m surprised you don’t want to make a better impression,” Gladys remarked. “There will be gentlemen at this ball. Gentlemen with titles. But have it your way. I’ll shine all the brighter standing next to you.”

“Yes, you’ll be perfectly gaudy,” I said. “They’ll be covering their eyes.” I continued to gaze out the window, not giving her the satisfaction of eye contact. Gladys knew I was lonely; we were only late at all because I’d spent an hour in front of the looking glass, obsessing over my every flaw. All the while, Father’s words had echoed through my mind: “There is only one path before you, Maraina. You will wed a gentleman with a title, and you will bear his children.” The threat went unspoken, but I’d heard it in the sharpness of his voice.

Outside, the fog continued to caress the window, blanketing the fields beyond with murky white air. I heard a distant echo—wind being swept up again and again, like from the beating of vast, leathery wings. “I understand if you feel like there’s no use trying,” Gladys replied, her face splitting into a malicious grin. “A nicer dress won’t fix those bloated cheeks. And we both know your suitors only want you for Father’s money. Why, any one of them would probably murder you once it’s in their hands! Better for you to end up a bitter old spinster. You’ll be alone, but at least you’ll be alive.”

Trembling with rage, I finally turned to face her. “Perhaps you will be no less alone. Perhaps your poor husband will kill himself once he’s realized what a shrew he’s married.”

Gladys’s eyes widened. “What an awful thing to say!” She looked ready to retort with something just as mean, but our coach suddenly jolted to a violent halt, nearly jerking us from our seats.

“What happened?” Gladys asked, making no attempt to investigate.

As I opened the window and stuck my head out, I felt the cold caress of night. The horses, Bastion and Badger, were stationary. Our driver had climbed down into the mud and was in the process of tying them to a tree beside the road.

“Mr. Stephens?” I called. “Is something wrong?”

He turned around to look at me. He was a portly man, whose large eyes made him appear perpetually bewildered. “Apologies, m’lady,” he said. “A carcass is blocking our path.”

I looked past him, and saw a large dead cow lying in the middle of the road. It looked impossible to circumvent. The horses whined, obviously restless.

“Strange, really,” Mr. Stephens said as he approached the carcass. “I’m not aware of any nearby cattle farms.”

I, too, was perplexed. To the left and right of the road, there was naught but tall grass and the occasional tree. Where had this cow come from?

“Be careful, Sister,” Gladys called. “You might fall out, and then we’ll never get you off the ground!”

“Hush, Gladys,” I hissed.

Mr. Stephens grasped the bovine by the horns and pulled with all his might. “Won’t . . . take . . . long!”

I hoped he was right; heavy grey clouds churned above us, and the air was freezing against my skin.

I sensed movement in the corner of my eye. Rain? I looked up, and saw something drifting down like a great black veil, preparing to shroud us in a greater darkness. I could not see it clearly—its shape was obscured by the clouds—but the dark thing fell faster and faster, until suddenly it was upon us, swooping like an owl.

In the blink of an eye, Mr. Stephens vanished. Startled, I attempted to make sense of what I’d just witnessed. It didn’t make sense for something to pull Mr. Stephens into the sky. Surely he had simply hidden himself—behind the bovine, perhaps? But then I heard screaming from above, and saw a figure fall from the sky, only to crash into the field beside us with a dull thud.

The screaming stopped. The blood drained from my face. I heard a great rumble of thunder.

“Mr. Stephens?” I tried to shout, but my voice was scarcely more than a whisper.

The sky flashed with distant lightning, and in that split-second I saw the dark shape again, circling above us like a vulture. Bastion and Badger whinnied and tried to pull away from the tree, to no avail.

“Gladys,” I whispered, staring up at the churning darkness. “There’s something up there . . . ”

“What?” Her voice was loud and shrill. “Maraina, I can’t hear you.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the dark shape. It was too large to be a bird or a bat. Large enough to lift a grown man into the sky . . .

I pulled my head back into the coach. “There’s something up there, and I think it just killed our driver.”

Gladys’s eyes widened, more from confusion than fear. “I don’t understand. Mr. Stephens is . . . gone? We’re stranded?”

“We can’t be stranded,” I said, my voice trembling. “We can’t stay here . . . ”

A scream of pain erupted from somewhere nearby. I gasped. “It’s Mr. Stephens. He’s alive!”

While I didn’t want to leave the coach, we couldn’t remain here and wait to be attacked. I opened the door and scampered into the grass, hoping the creature wouldn’t see me.

“Maraina, what are you doing?” Gladys called from the coach.

Mr. Stephens continued to wail in agony. I followed the sound of his cries, hunching over to keep low.

Blades of grass scratched my skin as I trudged through it, so tall that I could no longer be sure whether I was going the right way. I stopped to listen for another scream.

The grass rustled behind me, and my legs turned to stone. I had no weapons. No way to defend myself. And the rustling sound was only getting louder.

I whirled around.

The grass parted, revealing Gladys’s face. I practically panted in relief.

“I couldn’t stay in there alone,” she said. “Maraina, I think you’re right. Something’s up there.”

I nodded shakily. “Come on, then.”

We moved through the grass, still hunched over, until at last we came upon Mr. Stephens. He lay on his back, crushing the grass beneath him. He had a gash across his face, and his leg was bent in the wrong direction.

“Goodness,” I murmured, bringing my hand to my mouth.

His face was twisted in pain, teeth bared as his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. “What are you doing out here?” he croaked. “You should ride off. Leave me behind.”

“He’s right,” said Gladys. “We should go.”

“We’re not leaving him,” I said sternly. “And if we ride off, that thing in the sky will chase us.”

Mr. Stephens grunted in pain. “There’s a musket in the trunk. If you get me back there, I can shoot the beast.”

Gladys and I hoisted up Mr. Stephens and carried him back to the coach, moving far more slowly than I would have liked. All the while, the rain pelted our faces with sharp cold drops, mingling with the blood on Mr. Stephens’ face. When we reached the edge of the field, Gladys hissed, “Wait.”

I saw it too: something was perched on the coach, bending down to look through the window. It was about the size of a very tall man. It lingered a moment, then spread bat-like wings, each one as long as a horse’s body, and darted up into the air.

At that moment, I felt the same dizzying sensation many other mortals did only months later: that of my entire concept of reality crumbling under the weight of a seemingly impossible fact. I was bearing witness to a monster that should not be. Nonetheless, my sister and I were in danger, and I had to do what I could to ensure our survival.

“Wait here,” I said, dropping my end of Mr. Stephens. Gladys struggled to keep hold of him; she was very petite, and hadn’t lifted anything half as heavy her entire life.

“Come back!” she called. “I can’t carry him on my own.”

Ignoring her, I rushed over to the coach and opened the trunk to find an Enfield rifle-musket. I pulled it out and whirled around, half-expecting the creature to already be upon me.

“Bring it to me, m’lady,” said Mr. Stephens. “It should already be loaded.”

I looked down at the gun. Now that we’d come to it, this didn’t sound like such a fine plan. The man was crippled. How could he possibly aim?

The shape swooped down at the other end of the road and sped towards us. There wasn’t time to hand Mr. Stephens the rifle.

My parents had always told me to know my place. Gentlemen don’t like bold women, they said, so be soft-spoken. Be agreeable.

Tonight, being agreeable was likely to get us all killed.

I lifted the rifle andtook aim myself.

“M’lady, no!” Mr. Stephens cried out.

Lightning illuminated the air once again. This time the creature was only a few meters away, close enough that for a split-second I saw it clearly . . . though I couldn’t make sense of what I saw. Its shape was humanoid, aside from those massive wings. I did not have time to see its face, but I did glimpse a silver, ruby-encrusted ring on a pale finger. What monster wore jewelry?

I put the question out of my mind and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

“Toss it to me, m’lady,” Mr. Stephens said.

Of course—the safety hammer. I pulled it back, revealing the nipple, and readied the weapon again. By now, the creature was only feet away, reaching out towards me with shadowy claws.

“Maraina!” Gladys shrieked.

I fired.

The blast sent ringing through my ears, and the recoil made me feel like my arm had been torn from its socket. I squinted, rubbing my shoulder. The creature was sprawled on the ground, hands shielding its face, blood leaking through its fingers. It let out an all-too-human scream, which only became louder as my hearing returned.

After a moment, the creature rose to its full height and spread its wings once more. It loomed over at me, its face still shrouded in shadows. I aimed the rifle, threatening to shoot again, but the creature raised a hand, as if to reason with me. Then it kicked off the ground and disappeared into the rainswept night.

“Is it gone?” Gladys whispered.

I stared up, searching for any sign that the creature was still around. “I don’t know,” I said. “But even if it isn’t, we should be. I feel like a worm in a bird’s nest.”

We went to Bastion and Badger, who were by now completely terrified, frantically trying to pull away from the tree. It took some time to calm them down, but they eventually seemed to realize that if they obeyed us, they would be allowed to leave this terrible place. We decided to ride them back, as Mr. Stephens could not drive in his condition.

Gladys and I hoisted Mr. Stephens up onto Badger. “Ride with him,” I told her. “I’ll untie the horses.”

My sister gave me a sour look. “Are we really going back home?”

“Do you want to attend the ball covered in mud?” I asked.

Gladys looked down at her dress and sighed. “No. Fine. We’ll go back.” She joined Mr. Stephens on top of Badger. I untied them, and then Bastion, who I mounted myself.

As we rode back to Blackwood Manor, I had the sensation that the creature was still watching me—staring down from the darkness above, curious about the woman who had shot it.

I kept the rifle by my side the entire journey home.