This is the continuing story of the Succubi called Storm Clouds…
If you want to read previous chapters, please click the link in the Tale header at the top of the page marked Storm Clouds or click here...
Continuing the chapter and Thomas gets an idea of where he is… and where he isn’t…
“Thomas, talk to me.”
Camilla stood there, looking quite concerned. Tom found himself looking at her, not with the panic he had at first, but, instead, an odd curiosity.
He let out a snort, “I’m good. You wouldn’t understand.”
“That you lost someone close to you? That you where hurt? Still are? Always will be?”
Tom didn’t answer that. He could, but he felt like she was getting into something that she had no right to. So instead of answering, he turned away from her and looked at the landscape around him.
The rows and rows of grave markers made it clear that this was a place of rest for those that had passed on. For a moment, he wondered how something like Camilla could be killed, and then shoved that thought away.
It wasn’t something that he needed to think about.
Camilla frowned, “You haven’t got a lock on pain, Thomas. No one does. Not ever.”
He thrust his hands into his pockets, “Alright, I’ll assume that you are telling me the truth and that you aren’t going to kill me.” He heard her coming closer. Passing him, she nodded as her tail moved from side to side behind her. “Why me?”
Her tail stopped, “That’s not for me to tell you. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask Tera about that.”
He managed a smile, “Passing the buck or thinking that I can’t handle it?”
A shrug, “Both.”
He walked up to her, looking at how she had changed. She was still the girl he had met not that long ago, just with some optional extras added to her. If he overlooked those, she was still a woman… No. That was wrong. She was what she was, but she didn’t lie to him … that one thing alone made her trustworthy.
“Alright. I’ll talk to her later. Camila, what … why are you?”
She rubbed her hands along the side of her dress, “We aren’t all evil, nor are we all good. We make choices just like you do. Sometimes they are good ones, sometimes they are bad ones, but we choose to do and be what we are.”
She winked, “Thanks… Been working on that for centuries, actually.”
“Now how about the unvarnished truth?”
She nodded, “In short, I believe we are in limbo between light and dark, that both want us and both are afraid of us. You can think of us as wildcards, Thomas, but there is one thing, one promise that we have made that we can’t forget … people like you have to make your own choices, decisions, and actions …”
He put a hand up: “I didn’t choose to be here.”
“Oh yes you did. You chose to come. You chose to knock on the door. You chose to see what you could find out. All of that was your choice.” She waved a hand, “All of this followed because it had to; you would have never accepted a lie…”
He thought about that and came to the decision that she was right. He wouldn’t have let this lie, ignored it, moved on. That wouldn’t have happened because it was not his nature to do that.
“Besides giving me the breadcrumbs to find you, why did you pick me?”
Camilla shook her head, “Can’t say.”
A question came to him, “Tell me something. Are there angels and all that other stuff?”
“Yes. Angels, devils, dragons, faeries, and more are all real. It’s just that your world has forgotten about the wonders around it. … most of the time.”
“So what are you, exactly.”
She looked almost embarrassed, “Beings like me are Succubi, Thomas. There are Incubi here as well.”
He arched an eyebrow, “I’ve heard of those.”
“No. You have heard of something like us, not us.”
“A Succubus or Incubus kills through sex. We don’t. We gave that up ages ago just to be able to be who what we are right now. Independent beings that serve no one.”
Tom thought that over, “Okay, so you split away and you do what you want.”
A slight nod.
“That’s dangerous, Camilla. No rules means nothing to control you.”
A smile, “There is. One very important thing, Thomas. We know the past. We won’t go back to it again.”
Tom wiped a hand over his eyes, “You know that this is all too much to take in.”
Her hand was soft and gentle on his shoulder, “You are, really, one of the few people that can handle this stuff, Thomas. Most people would be screaming and running in circles at this point.”
“What makes you think I won’t?”
“Curiosity … You want to know the secrets. Your mind is wanting to know answers to questions you have had since the day you were born. Most of all, you won’t let yourself back down from a fight, Thomas.”
Tom thought that over for a while. It was true that he was wondering about a lot of things … more than he wanted to be. But three things came to the forefront. He had a mystery. He had a job to do… and he had a promise to keep.
He looked her straight in the eye, “I need a partner in this; someone who knows the lay of the land; someone who will watch my back.”
She nodded, “You always will in our world.”
He offered his hand, “I … I will trust you Camilla. I trust that you will watch my back.”
She took his hand, “I promise. I want a promise from you, too: wherever this goes, whoever did it, whatever it takes, you won’t walk away.”
They shook on it and then Tom asked, “Where are we? Fill me in.”
“You are at, what you would understand as, our cemetary.” She pointed towards the mountain covered in fog at the edge of the markers, “It continues far up the mountain, almost to the very top. Everyone that we can return home is here. Some never return and we are less for that. From the first of us to the last of us, our bodies rest here.”
Then she pointed into the distance to Tom’s right where three figures collected themselves around a marker, “Her family is up there.”
“Let’s go. I want to talk to them.”
It took them a good fifteen minutes of walking until Thomas got his first good look at Patricia’s family. Her husband was talking to their children, trying to explain to them, he assumed, what had happened and why their Mother would not be returning to them.
The husband was a short blond man, unassuming, someone you wouldn’t look twice at in the street. He wore a dark suit in comparison to the children. Looking at the children, Tom was struck with the realization that neither of them had horns or tails.
“Why don’t the kids have horns and a tail like you? Or their father for that matter?”
“They haven’t decided if they want to be like us. So they are simply children with their own ideas and goals. If they decide to become like us, then they’ll have to go through the ceremony and be picked by a Tail.”
“Picked? By a Tail? How does that work?”
She shook her head, “I’ll explain later. Not in front of the children. We protect them from what we are so that they can make up their own minds…”
With that, Camilla’s horns and tail shimmered and vanished, but her clothing remained transformed. As they came within earshot of Patricia’s family she added, “I’d thank you not to talk about it please?”
Tom nodded, but resolved to ask Camilla more questions later about their rules.
Rules were meant to be broken in the eyes of some people…
Reaching the father, Tom offered his hand, “My sympathies for your loss sir.”
He stood and paused for a moment before taking the offered hand, “Thank you. Name’s Brent.” The grip was firm but not overwhelming, although Tom had the distinct feeling that he was being judged at that moment by this man.
A nod, “Tom. I’d like some of your time.”
Camilla went to the kids, soon hugging them and drawing their attention from Tom and their father. She gave him a nod, and Tom took that as his chance to start his questioning, assuming that Brent agreed.
Brent spoke to the kids, “Okay you two, go with Auntie Camila, her friend wants to talk to me. Now be good right?”
A chorus of, “Yes Father”, and then Camilla and the kids began to walk towards a path leading away from the grave markers.
Brent then rested a hand on the marker which Tom now saw had Patricia’s name on it, “I’ve been told that you are looking into my wife’s death. I’ve been told that Tera asked you to do this. That true?”
“She did, I was before I knew about what you people are. She’s hard to say no to…”
A chuckle, “She’s the Queen. Rarely pushes people, mostly suggests and guides when needed. But she has always let people choose to disappoint her or not.”
“I’ve disappointed myself.”