Drained: The Lucid (31 page)

The two women stood in the middle of the room, shy expressions on both their faces.

“Do you know how to waltz?”

Morgan nodded her head. “But I never learned past the simple box steps. I begged my dad to teach me because I wanted to dance to
Sleeping Beauty
.” She smiled at the memory.

Riley’s pale green eyes drifted over the woman inches away from her. The softened demeanor that had fallen over Morgan’s features gave the succubus pause. She amused herself with the image of a young Morgan attempting the footwork with tiny, inexperienced legs. As entertaining as the thought was, Riley snapped her focus back and found the beat to the song.

“I’ll lead?” The words sounded more timid than she would have liked, but Morgan nodded. They danced in the small area, and with Riley’s lead, and through a few stumbles, Morgan learned how to turn in the waltz, expanding her normally confined steps.

“I feel like a princess,” Morgan admitted. “Is that strange?” The music swelled around them.

Riley shook her head and tightened her hands around Morgan’s as she dipped the other woman back. “Not at all.” She grinned broadly and pulled Morgan back up to eye level. “But does that make me your prince?”

“No.”

Riley hadn’t expected the two-letter word to deflate her with such brutal efficiency. She tried again. “How about your knight then?”

“I was thinking you could stay a princess yourself.” Morgan laughed. “But a knight could work, too. You certainly have the armor for it.”

The final drum roll and strum of lively violins signaled the dramatic end of the song. Morgan pulled Riley closer, refusing to let the succubus end the dance. Their steps slowed into a small, shuffling sway. Arms pulled closer to their bodies, no longer held at a rigid distance, and the rhythm of the song was forgotten. The record player hissed and popped in the background.

“How do you know how to do all this?” Morgan asked in a low tone. The music faded and the needle lifted.

“I’ve been around for many decades. You should be worried if I didn’t know or never did anything.” Riley silently regarded their new position as they continued to sway to an unheard beat. Somewhere along the line, Morgan had wrapped her arms around her waist.

“What else do you know how to do that would impress me?”

“Oh, many things.” Riley couldn’t help her laughter when Morgan looked unsatisfied with her answer. “Well, I’d handled and shot over thirty types of guns by the time I was twenty-one.”

“I said that would
impress
me.”

“I learned to play the violin and piano in Sydney, to waltz in London, and I trained to fight in Spain for a few years—strictly for self-defense, not matches. Unfortunately, I’m not talented enough to do all of that at the same time.” Riley smirked, proud of her experiences.

“I see.” Morgan returned a smile of her own. “I believe most of that, except the last bit about fighting.”

Riley opened her mouth in mocked offense. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, your first visit—”

“You blindsided me with a bag from a dark hallway.” Riley’s response was prompt.

“Then on your second visit—”

“You turned Viking on me with your kick,” Riley reasoned. “And I was carrying a heavy shield while balancing on stilettos.” She huffed at the memory. “My apologies for not slamming my elbows into your face. But I have some basic ethics on not attacking my marks.”

The response or Riley’s hurt ego was enough to make Morgan laugh. They’d stopped dancing but neither woman had pulled away.

“Fine, fine,” Morgan voice teased. “Maybe I should have asked what
haven’t
you done?” Her stare became serious and penetrating. “What do you still want in life, Riley?”

Upon hearing her name from the woman in her arms, Riley swallowed the lump in her throat. She had a million responses, but she couldn’t find one that was fitting. She didn’t know if it was because of Morgan’s stare, or the lack of distance between their lips, or if her brain had simply gone on strike, but she didn’t know what to say. Instead, she watched as Morgan’s gaze darted between her eyes and her mouth.

Each time she found the warmth of Morgan’s hazel-green eyes, Riley felt her walls crumble. This was supposed to be a job—a means to an end. She wasn’t supposed to feel anything except for maybe lust. But with Morgan those protective layers melted away, and she could admit that she’d fallen into the human’s distinct pull. She had woven her own feelings into the hopes and fears of a client, and it was an indescribable level of intimacy. Everything in regards to what she had with Morgan was, in one word,
different
.

And like a passing freight train, the freeing feeling was gone as quickly as it had slammed into her.

Riley blinked her eyes in rapid succession as her muscles went rigid. Her mouth became dry, and a sudden emptiness hit the pit of her stomach. She had fallen for a mark, and that was the dumbest thing a cubare could do.

A message vibrated the watch strapped to her wrist, and a notification chimed. It was the excuse she needed to pull her hands away, and she didn’t let the opportunity pass. Riley silently read the new message:
All personnel should be aware that intruders were recently found on campus. Two of the three were apprehended. We’ve searched the building and have deemed it safe for everyone. Please report any suspicious activities. Nothing was compromised. A mandatory seminar will be held within the next few days. We will update everyone when a date and time has been scheduled.

“Is everything okay? You’re frowning.” Morgan ran her hands across Riley’s arms. “Do you have to go?”

Riley let out a breath she’d been holding and nodded. “I probably should.”

She didn’t have to leave. The message hadn’t mentioned the safety of continued work in the realm, but Riley needed to get away. There were too many moments when she felt her willpower falter, when she wanted to push the boundaries of their friendship, and the last thing she wanted was to scare Morgan and become a regret.

Morgan had endured enough trauma from one cubare to last a lifetime. Riley wasn’t about to become number two on that list.

With parting words and a lopsided smile, she took a step backwards and flashed out of the dream.

• • •

Riley’s hands were busied with grocery bags when she first saw the fat manila envelope shoved into her mailbox. Her first name and nothing else was printed in the center of the oversized packet. She set down the bags of food in the hallway and tore open the carefully sealed envelope.

She pulled free the thick stack of papers inside, and her hands began to tremble when she realized what she was holding. Josh had come through for her. He’d been able to procure Sean’s files from his time as a Trusics employee. A note in his chicken-scratch handwriting instructed her to shred the documents as soon as she was finished with them.

She tucked the thick bundle under her arm and let herself into her apartment. Her excitement was palpable and so distracting that she nearly left her groceries in the hallway. She dumped the bags of food onto the countertop in the galley kitchen, abandoning the contents for the paperwork under her arm.

She typed a vague text of gratitude to her tech-savvy friend.
Thank you.

His response blipped back moments later.
You’re welcome.

Riley sat down on her living room couch and spread out the paperwork on the coffee table before her. She had never seen comparable files on another cubare, not even those Trusics kept on herself. The first few papers appeared to be background and hiring information on Sean. She skimmed over the content; she was familiar with Sean’s story pre-Trusics, but there it was listed for her again. Sean Marshall, born Jean Martel, was far older than Riley. He had been sired at the turn of the twentieth century at the age of thirty-two and, since that time, had traveled the world extensively as an independent cubare.

Amongst the background information on Sean, Riley found typewritten notes of several sessions with one of Trusics’s resident psychologists. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Josh had been able to uncover the intimate files, but as she continued to read the sensitive information, she realized the gravity of what she’d asked her friend to do. These weren’t simply human resources’ hiring papers or newsletters filed away in the company archives. The documents narrated Sean’s seemingly overnight personality changes from the man she had known to the aggressive and defensive incubus who had abandoned them all.

The notes observed Sean’s angry outbursts in their sessions and the frequency of his increased aggression. They observed the feelings of obsession over Morgan, who the psychologist continually referred to as mark EP1606707. Among the paperwork was a final evaluation:
It is recommended that mark EP1606707’s realm be suspended indefinitely and that Sean Marshall be admitted to the Trusics retreat and recovery program without suspension of energy. Time away from both the realm, but especially this specific mark, is necessary for his complete recovery.

Riley continued to pore over the paperwork, elbows resting on her thighs as she leaned forward with her head propped in her hands. She herself had broken numerous rules all for the opportunity to spend more time with Morgan, but she hesitated to label that as an obsession. What had happened to Sean? And did it have anything to do with Morgan?

The last piece of paper in the stack was an unsigned termination paper on company letterhead. Sean had fled before Trusics could officially end his employment. They’d remotely deactivated his watch so he no longer had access to the database. In doing so, they’d also lost their ability to track him. It was the lesser of two evils. Better to lose a rogue incubus rather than to allow him access to Trusics members’ dreams.

Riley tossed the last of the files onto her coffee table and leaned back with a sigh. The notes had indicated Sean was violent, but had that aggression persisted after all these years? Was Sean still the kind of man who could torment an innocent woman in the realm or nearly beat to death another incubus?

The still-bagged groceries demanded her attention. With a sigh, she stood from the couch and made her way to the kitchen. It was little more than a glorified closet with a hot plate compared to the gourmet kitchen at James and Heather’s house. Even Seven had a nicer kitchen, and he made nothing but protein shakes. Riley was actually an accomplished cook, when she put forth the effort, but with no real need to eat, her rental homes rarely had a decent setup.

She lifted one of the paper grocery bags, but the bottom stayed connected to the countertop, separating from the rest of the bag, and all the food contained inside fell out. A small bag of tangerines rolled across the countertop. The carton of eggs hit the counter and the container popped open, sending the fragile contents onto the floor.

The ripped bottom of the grocery bag was soggy with a milky substance that, upon further investigation, turned out to be the remnants of the coffee-flavored ice cream she’d failed to put away in the freezer. The container hadn’t been sealed tightly, and the melted ice cream covered the counter and began to drip into the egg puddle below.

After the three-hour safety seminar at work, she’d found herself wandering the rows of the grocery store feeling uninspired by her food options. An insatiable hunger gnawed in her stomach the entire time. She didn’t know if it was a specific aftereffect of the external energy, like having the munchies, or if it was her body’s way of communicating that what she was doing was unnatural, but taking the extracted energy had left her physically hungrier than usual.

She tossed the rest of the soupy ice cream into the sink. It was probably for the best, she reasoned. The calories wouldn’t have affected her, but memories of eating ice cream with Morgan on her kitchen floor would have. Even days later, she was having a hard time ignoring the imagery of Morgan’s lips wrapped around a spoon or the way her mouth tentatively licked the utensil.

She cleaned up the rest of the mess in the kitchen, sure that it was her punishment for reading Sean’s files.

Eventually there was nothing left to do, except shred the paperwork.

Riley pulled the paper shredder out from under her desk and flipped the on switch. It whirred to life, clicking and making other mechanized noises. She shredded one thin stack of papers after the next until all evidence of Josh’s subterfuge was gone. The urge to hold onto the papers to reexamine at a later date was tempting, but she couldn’t risk keeping them. She could visualize the stern disappointment on Heather’s face if she came across the information in her apartment. It was better for everyone to destroy the paperwork.

When the last of the paper had been shredded, but the machine continued to whirl, Riley flipped the back switch. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She reached under the desk and yanked the electrical plug out of its socket. Trying to get out from under the confines of the wooden furniture, Riley knocked her head and the bump was enough to topple a single framed photograph on her desk. She grimaced at the sound of glass breaking.

“God, this fucking day,” she grumbled to herself. “Can I get a break with this cleaning up crap?”

Careful so as to not cut herself, Riley picked the picture frame from the floor. Free of its glass plate, the photograph fluttered out.

The surface of the photo was marred with scratches from the broken glass. She ran her fingers over a worn corner. It was one of the rare pictures that she had agreed to in order to make her then-girlfriend happy. She and Amber had taken a day trip to Venice Beach during the earliest stage of their relationship. The Boardwalk and ocean were in the background, framing their smiling faces. Amber wore oversized sunglasses and dark red lipstick. The tops of her pale shoulders already showed signs of sunburn. Riley knew how to woo—she was an expert at courtship. Relationships, however, were a totally different beast.

• • •

This was one dream Riley didn’t want to be in, and she had no intention of sticking around longer than she needed to. The last time she’d accessed Amber’s dreams, the context had been entirely different. They’d still been dating, and Amber’s betrayal had not yet occurred. Riley had taken a taste to help return herself to full strength. Now, she needed to drain energy to ascertain the validity of Amber’s promise that she’d parted ways with the Truthseekers. If her intentions were earnest, her energy would be pure. If she continued to lie, the drain would be muddled, tainted. She wanted to be able to trust Amber at her word, but that kind of blind faith was a luxury she could not enjoy.