Todos los capítulos de Lilitu: The Memoirs of a Succubus: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

CHAPTER ELEVENThe EucharistThere was blood in the Thames.I stared out at the river’s crimson waves as Salem and I rode to Buckingham Palace several hours after our visit to Le Boudoir des Ténèbres.“Sloppy work if you ask me,” said Salem. “I’m not even sure it was intentional. All the newlydeads want to become ritualists, but they certainly don’t all have the predisposition.”“It’s only been a week,” I said quietly. “Only a week, and already the Thames is red . . . ”“This is part of why we didn’t attempt the Nightfall sooner,” said Salem. “We didn’t want countless impatient youths trying rituals at once. I spent years learning to control my thoughts and emotions before attempting a single spell. Most new apprentices don’t even meditate, much less consider magic’s nobler uses.”“And what uses would these be?”He chuckled, as if embarrassed to say it out loud. “I believe rituals have the potential to make the world a utopia.”“A utopia?” I repeated. “You call

CHAPTER THIRTEENVisceral DreamsLilitu Feeding Etiquette: An F.A.Q. From Rupert WaltersThere seems to be a great deal of confusion about the niceties of lilitu feeding etiquette, and I have been asked to provide clarification. I will attempt to be as polite as possible while answering the common questions below, but the nature of the subject means that ladies of tender dispositions may wish to read with caution.Q: Is the consumption of venereal fluids necessary for lilitu to survive?A: Not precisely. Lilitu feed on erotic energy, which is derived most efficiently through the consumption of fresh venereal fluids. However, dreamfeeding demonstrates that it is possible for lilitu to gain sustenance without exposure to their partner’s physical form.Q: How long can lilitu go without feeding?A: Lilitu take between two weeks and a month to starve to death. An incubus must release his seed at least once a week, or it will build up inside him, leading to insanity, followed by death

CHAPTER FIFTEENThe Ring & The RatsThere are those who say that England has experienced nothing but improvement since the Nightfall. Immortals say this because they are eager deny their culpability, and then mortals parrot it because they’re too frightened to acknowledge that their masters are no longer human. They freeze whenever they see a well-dressed, sharp-toothed gentleman walking down the street, a skeletal escort at either side of him. But when asked, they will say they are loyal to the Crown, and in awe of the divine powers their new masters possess. If servants are lazy or disobedient, they are lashed. Sometimes, they are lashed merely because their masters feel like it. Young women, even ones with children, may be purchased by incubi, who will rape them to death, then devour their bodies to avoid the scandal. Satyr priests are often given charge of the resulting orphans, and raise them to please their betters.All satyrs, it is said, have a connection to Black Heav

CHAPTER SEVENTEENThe Sea of NeedlesSalem was arched over a Viscera Sister. The other two knelt on the bed at either side of him, rubbing against his arms. I wanted to kill them then and there, but I’d lost my weapon. If I tried killing them with my bare hands, Salem would probably pummel me to death.He grunted, his body tensing as it always did when he climaxed. The Sister beneath him let out a warped, inhuman scream. She arched her back, her pitch-black eyes wide open, her deformed breasts thrown out. Then she fell backwards again, her expression hollow. She did not move again.Salem became still, his eyes widening. “She’s . . . dead?” His voice was hollow.“A necessary price for the transfer of power,” said the Sister to his right. She licked his ear.“I don’t understand,” said Salem, exhaling between his words. “You know you will die if I claim you, yet you seek me out?”“We live to give power to the strongest,” moaned the Sister to his right. “To you, my Vi

PART IIIEscalationApril, 1877—February, 1878CHAPTER NINETEENUncivilOh, I’ve broken many hearts in the years since I      became a succubus. I don’t mean to, but they always fly into my hands, begging for a squeeze. I had long considered the possibility that I might break Salem’s heart. But, as I returned from that ill-fated journey to Dartmoor, I feared that I’d broken Alkin’s heart as well.I barely spoke to him for the rest of the journey. I feared that he thought I was rejecting him by not going with him to Mekra . . . but, painful though it was, I did not tell him otherwise. I didn’t want to give him hope that I would ever be his. Nor did I want to give myself hope.Sven spent the remainder of the journey pacing the halls of the ship with his wristblades drawn. I feared that he would hurt me, or Alkin, or even Ezekiel. He was an angry predator, and we were the only prey on the ship.When we landed in the London docks, Sven leapt out the wi