“He tried to use the compulsion on me again, and I was able to repel it,” I say.
Zaid shakes his head in awe, but I ignore it, giving a short play-by-play of how I used the whip and killed Wade.
Carrick’s expression alters many times during the entire story, but when I tell him how I ended the incubus’ life, it’s unmistakably awash with pride. When I’m finished, Zaid turns and heads for my house, disappearing inside. I have no clue what he’s doing or intends to do, but I truly don’t care. Things are different now.
“How did he kill Adira with just a kiss?” I ask, turning my attention back to Carrick and wrapping my arms over my stomach. “I thought you said they needed sex.”
“Any intimate act that invokes desire on the victim’s part will open up their life force to be consumed,” Carrick explains, his tone turning sharp with disgust. “Most complete the sexual act, often violently, which the incubus or succubus enjoys more. My guess was he was just starting with Adira, and he was going to come after you next.”
I shudder, this time not able to suppress it. “But how did he find where we lived? I don’t see how he followed us?”
Carrick doesn’t answer immediately, walking across the lawn to my whip. He picks it up, examines the black blood on the dagger before looking back to me. “All fae powers have evolved over the millennia. Some are particular to species, some to royal houses. Some are inherently natural. But one thing is universally true, the fae are very protective and secretive of what they can do, so you never really know what you’re up against. I suspect this incubus tagged Adira somehow at the bar.”
“Tagged?”
“Elicited pheromones using sexual compulsion and followed them right to her.”
“Great,” I mutter sarcastically. “A supernatural bloodhound.”
“What’s more concerning is how he got in the house to begin with?” Carrick murmurs pensively as he coils the whip, keeping the blood-covered dagger hanging on the outside and away from what I bet are expensive pants.
I jolt because that had not even crossed my mind. I remember Carrick that night of my birthday, standing out in the street and casting a spell over my house. That’s at least what I suspected it was, but I hadn’t thought about it much since.
“You put a spell over my house,” I say, looking to him for affirmation.
Carrick nods. “And the Fantasia when you moved onto it. It was to keep all fae and daemons out.”
“Where did you get the magic?” I ask suspiciously. He’s not fae or daemon, and I’m mostly certain he doesn’t have access to a stone. Those all seem to be gone from the history I’ve learned.
“The gods,” is all he says before walking toward my house.
“What kind of magic did they give you?” I ask, needing to know more about the most influential person in my life right now.
He ignores me, as expected.
As we reach the porch, Zaid meets us there. He has a towel in hand and tosses it at Carrick, who uses it to wipe the dagger clean before depressing it back into the handle. I have no clue how Zaid knew Carrick needed a towel or just appeared as we approached the house, but if I asked every curiosity that ran through my mind, I wouldn’t have time to do anything else.
“Nothing unusual inside,” Zaid says to Carrick before bringing his gaze to mine. “Except you had one hell of a scuffle in your room. There’s a dent in your drywall.”
I rub the back of my head. “Luckily, my skull is thick.”
Glancing back at the garage where Adira’s dead body is, I ask, “What do we do now?”
“I’ve already called 9-1-1,” Zaid says, and I whip toward him in shock. “They should be here any minute. The story is you were out with Carrick tonight, and I was your driver. We were dropping you off, and you checked on Adira and found her dead. Simple as that.”
“Simple as that?” I hiss, pointing a shaky finger back at the garage. “My friend was murdered. There’s nothing simple about it.”
Zaid looks neither chastised nor bothered in the slightest by his dismissive attitude, but Carrick steps forward to hand him the whip. “Put that up.”
Zaid does as asked, as I suspect he always does, and no sooner has he disappeared into the house again than red flashing lights illuminate the street. It’s an ambulance pulling in first, followed by a police car. I remember Carrick had told me before that when a succubus kills—which is presumably the same for an incubus—it will present as if the person had a heart attack, which makes sense. Your entire life force is being consumed, so it stands to reason the heart would give out.
“Come on,” Carrick says, taking me by the hand. His warm, reassuring touch doesn’t feel wrong, and I’m grateful for it as he leads me toward the ambulance.