Page 67 of The Troll’s Summer Flame

Gordon to PVPRFD: Thank you. Don’t tell the captain. Not yet.

Andrea flings herself into my arms the second I’m back on my own property, flying out of the truck like a missile. “Thank God! What happened?”

“Succubus.”

“I know, but why do sex demons make fire? I thought they made wet dreams?” Andrea frowns.

“This one has some sort of fiery side effect. And there was blood this time.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s not good. But no... No body, right?”

“No body. Not a huge amount of blood. Enough to notice shining on the rocks and trees around the clearing, though.”

Andrea looks faint. “I’m so sorry. What do we do?”

“I asked Ardy and Alban to come out. Brother-in-laws. Alban is a warlock. You met him.”

“Oh, yes. He can shoot water out of his hands.”

I shake my head. That’s not how that works, but it’s too early to explain. “And Ardghal Walsh, the police officer. I want to see if we can find out who the blood belongs to. It’s likely the victim’s, who's probably a hapless human taken in by what appears to be a beautiful woman. Probably a lonely, single male. From what I know from Liam, the local reformed incubus, demons who feed off of humans in the mortal realm have to play their cards carefully, or they’ll end up in a bad situation.”

“The poor humans, though. Aren’t they also in a bad situation?”

“Yes.” I go back to speaking in short sentences. It’s easier than explaining all the murky thoughts and feelings that a monster has when another monster enters the mortal realm. Are they there to kill? Then they’re a threat. Are we judging too quickly? Should they be shown mercy and offered a chance to lead a good life, protecting others with powers that could be used for good instead of evil?

I was given a chance to lead a peaceful life. I don’t need sexual energy to survive, just food. Not even the food my parents told me I had to survive on. Does a succubus from the Hell realm know that she doesn’t need souls, only sexual energy, or the life force created from it?

Andrea leans on my arm, holding my hand in both of hers. “We should go make coffee.”

“Hm?”

“For Ardy and Albie.”

“Alban.”

Andrea rolls her eyes. “Whatever, for the tired guys who are going to come over here to look at blood and stuff.”

“I have to wait here.”

“I’ll figure out the coffee myself, don’t worry.”

“It’s instant. In the cabinet with the cereal. It’s easy to find.” There’s not a lot in my cabinets. Basics. I don’t do fancy meals. But maybe that will change. I picture Andrea, and maybe even her mother and all of the fierce titas I’ve heard about, descending upon my kitchen and teaching me to make the wonderful food Andrea always talks about.

Andrea gives me a dirty look. “You know how men worry about women trying to change them?”

“No?” I wouldn’t be adverse to Andrea trying to change me. She would deserve to do so.

“I love you, but you’re going to have to have real coffee in the house if I’m in it, too.”

“I just drink whatever is at the station,” I explain.

“Yeah, well, since I don’t go to the station, you’re getting a coffee pot when I move in!” she shouts over her shoulder and saunters in, her petite yet curvaceous rear reminding me that there’s hope in the world.

Ardy takes a swab from the rock and dips it in a tiny vial of clear solution, shakes it around, and puts drops on a little plastic cassette that looks similar to the pregnancy tests they sell at the pharmacy. “Ooh. This is human or primate, or in the case of Pine Ridge, it could be something like Orc, yeti, vampire, reaper, or troll. Not a shifter in animal form nor a minotaur, as their blood skews the results to non-human. They typically have a mix of proteins that won’t bind to the testing material. Okay, Alban. Alban!”

Alban shakes himself awake, blinking from the spot where he was squatting over burnt earth. “Huh?”

“Drink the coffee,” I urge, and shove the mug Andrea prepared back into his hand as I pull him to his feet.