Story - The Succubus

[maderr]

Mwahahaha. Man it feels good to be writing again, even if there is nothing special about this story ^^;;

The Succubus

Kohar sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, careful to avoid touching the nose piece of his rune-scribing monocle. He set his quill aside before he accidentally wrote rat instead of robe, mouth twitching at the image that mistake brought to mind.

Madame Karen would not be amused by the slip.

The horrendous shouting and screaming came again, and he wondered irritably what in the Nether Regions those damnable soldiers were up to now, to cause such a ruckus at this time of morning. The sun had not even risen, and would not rise for a few hours yet.

He did not spend money on his costly sun lanterns to work in these dark hours only to have the damned soldiers disrupt him.

The ruckus again subsided, broken up by the sharp, ringing tones of the Captain of the Guard. Finally.

Picking his quill up, he dipped it into a bottle of deep red ink, and slowly began to write out the proper runes.

He'd just finished one when the ruckus started up again – this time much closer. A pounding came at his door as he set the quill down yet again. "Come in!" he snapped, knowing only one person who would have the temerity to interrupt his work at this – or any – hour.

The door flew open, and Kohar did not need to turn around to confirm who had just walked in – Captain Nerek of her Majesty's Royal Guard. He was likely as rough looking as ever, in need of a shave, leathers scuffed and dirty from whatever was causing the racket outside.

"Whatever in the Regions is going on out there," Kohar snapped, not bothering to turn around, "you had better be putting an end to it. Some of us need peace and quiet, and I should think even your men could find a bit of consideration at this hour."

"You're a fine one to talk about consideration," Nerek retorted dryly.

Kohar sniffed, unimpressed. Carefully he tidied up his work table, capping his bottle of ink, cleaning his quills. He sensed he would be getting very little work done from here on out. A pity; he had hoped to finish Madame Karen's spells this morning so that he might go back to his own works for a time.

"I do not see how either one of you can be awake at this hour," said another voice. "Even with the current problem."

The voice poured through him hot and rich, headier than even the rush of magic through his blood.

Damn it all to hell, when had Siran arrived and why had no one told him the man was here? Kohar realized painfully and suddenly how he was dressed – nothing at all like he would normally appear, but rather in his bed robe, hair a mess and probably covered in ink smudges. Damn it to all corners of the nether regions.

He avoided pitching something heavy at Nerek's head, but only with the greatest of effort. The bastard had done it on purpose, he knew it.

Unable to resist, Kohar finally turned around, forcing back the dismay at his own appearance. He loathed that Siran was seeing him at his worst, but he would not make it worse. Pushing his chair back slightly, he turned and pushed back a stray black curl which had come free of the sloppy knot in which he'd bound it.

Siran was still beautiful. Unlike his cousin Nerek, who constantly looked rough and unkempt, Siran was always clean and neat. The contrast was all the more notable given that Nerek was Captain of the guard, and Siran was an aimless mercenary.

Like every other native of Hollar, Siran had dark hair and eyes. Unlike Kohar's long, loose curls and Nerek's short, razor-straight strands, Siran's hair was shoulder length and held the faintest wave, neatly tied back with a strip of leather. He wore no armor, so he had been here long enough to settle in. From the way he yawned, and somewhat fuzzy look to his dark green eyes, the noise had likely woken him.

Despite his sleep state, Siran was fully dressed. Black leggings and a deep red tunic, stitched with the moon and cat-head crest of his and Nerek's family. He'd buckled on his sword, and Kohar could see the barest hint of a dagger up his sleeve.

Always he took care to be well dressed around Siran. The same need for perfection that made him so good at magic scribing screamed in fury at being seen in so unkempt a state. His fingers twitched with a need to do up the loose fastenings of his bed robe, pull shut the gap that was displaying far too much leg. The only minor consolation he had was that the robe was of deepest midnight blue, matching his eyes exactly.

"Why are you bothering me?" he asked again.

Nerek smirked in that way that said he knew exactly what was irking Kohar so much. Well, that's what he got for working with the bastard for so long – they knew entirely too much about each other.

But in the next breath the smirk had faded, Nerek's mouth tightening into a grim line as he fell to business. "Three of the men have been attacked by…something…"

"Something?" Kohar asked. He really wished he could stand up and get dressed, but that would give away that it bothered him to be seen so, and he refused to make any show of weakness. He quirked a brow instead, and used the tone of voice that would make Nerek twitch. "Surely you can muster a better description than something, Captain."

Nerek glared. "If I knew, I'd say, but damned if I've ever seen anything like this – and how the fuck did it even get into the castle?"

All thoughts of aggravating Nerek and molesting Siran fled his mind as the matter at hand finally registered. Kohar stood up and pushed back his loose curls. "Is there no sign of the assailant on the premises? How exactly did it attack? Are the men alive? Why was I not summoned sooner? Any magical traces?"

"No signs other than whatever in the Regions happened to my men, no idea how it attacked. They're dead, and we summoned you the minute we realized the problem was magical in nature. No traces that I saw, but I was more in a hurry to get you," Nerek replied. Kohar's tendency to rattle off several questions at once annoyed everyone else, but Nerek had always kept up seamlessly.

Kohar frowned, nodded, and began absently to fasten his robe and smooth it out. Moving to his wardrobe, he dug out his leather boots and sat to tug them on. Standing, he took off his monocle and began to force his curls into place, swearing softly when he could not locate the clip that held it all together. He stopped when he saw a hand holding it out, and smiled at Siran. "Thank you."

Siran nodded, smiling briefly, then stepped back.

Retrieving his monocle, he settled it in place, twitching his nose to get it just right, then motioned for Nerek to lead the way.

The castle halls were cold; it would be some hours yet before the sun was high enough to warm them. He should have grabbed his cloak, but did not waste time to go back and fetch it. Normally at such an hour, everything would be dead silent. On the rare occasion he left his room at this time, Kohar seldom encountered any but one of the watchmen or Nerek. Where Kohar chose to be awake in the deadest hours of the morning, Nerek was often forced to be awake.

Today, however, the castle already bustled with activity. Servants stood muttering and whispering about what the problem might be, what was becoming of those damned soldiers, and it was only a matter of time before the family woke to start bellowing for answers.

Grimacing, he followed Nerek and Siran across the courtyard and to the barracks, where the soldiers stood milling fretfully about. Their eyes were filled with terror – and anger. Neither emotion surprised Kohar, but he was growing ever more curious as to the source.

"Nerek, if you don't tell me—"

He stopped abruptly as they halted in front of the bed of a soldier. Around them, the murmurs and fearful whispers died as everyone waited to see what the castle mage had to say.

The soldier was unconscious, but his eyes were wide open, as was his mouth, the whole of his face strangely contorted in a grimace of pleasure and pain. He seemed completely frozen, and only by looking and feeling carefully was Kohar able to confirm the man still breathed.

He raised both brows at the unfortunate state in which the man seemed to have died – his leggings open, cock lying spent, and blatant evidence of what the man had been doing spread all over the soldier and his bedding.

"There's two more," Nerek said into the silence.

"So far," Kohar murmured, focused now on finding any traces of magic that he could.

His monocle was intended primarily for rune scribing – to the naked eye, runes were no more complicated than ordinary penmanship. Beneath the monocle, however, the special inks came to life, where the slightest variation in a stroke could mean the difference between glorious success and horrific failure. It showed him where to make a mark lighter or darker, where to curve, where to keep it straight, where to blend the colors – thousands upon thousands of nuances, a craft so challenging that precious few were able to obtain their master marks.

Intended for scribing, but it was also helpful in picking up magic occasionally – as it was now, as he saw the lingering traces of a rune marked on the unfortunate soldier's forehead. Frowning in thought, he moved close enough to reach out and touch it.

His finger came away greasy, and he thoughtfully rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, then brought them to his nose to sniff. "Rune wax," he murmured softly. "Someone transferred runes to these men."

"Not a magic user, then," Nerek said with a grunt.

Kohar nodded in agreement. "Show me the other two."

Nerek did so, and they proved to be just as bizarre and awful as the first.

"I had no idea your men were so bold about relieving their frustrations," Kohar said dryly, though nothing about the situation was amusing. "You should let them at the wenches more often, Nerek."

Nerek grunted. "What is it?"

"Well, I would have to consult my books to be certain, but to judge from the state of them and the faded runes – I think we have a succubus feeding on your men."

"A succubus?" Siran asked, speaking for the first time. He looked at Kohar with a look of disbelief.

It stung. A lot. Siran had been dropping by to visit Nerek for years and years – never often, only a handful of times a year, and only a day or three at a time, but often enough he should not be so quick to disbelieve what Kohar had to say.

Kohar glared, and spoke in his iciest tone. "Yes, a succubus. Extremely rare, because summoning one is high level magic, but not impossible."

"Why?" Nerek interrupted. "That is what I want to know."

"You have to ask?" Kohar said dryly. "After the failed betrothal?"

Nerek winced. "I had hoped that with two months well past, perhaps revenge would not be exacted."

Kohar murmured a soft agreement. He and Nerek were in the employ of the Duke of Rehm, helping to guard the northeast corner of the country. Two months ago, the Countess of Greesom had arrived to finalize betrothal arrangements with the Duke.

His Grace had at the last moment decided against it – rather an unpleasant conclusion to month after month of discussion and debate. The Duke was brilliant in martial matters, but not in marital. Even now, no one knew why he had all but pitched her out.

"I cannot see who else would do this," Kohar continued. "Though, it lacks subtlety."

Nerek shrugged. "As mad as she was, I doubt being subtle was high on her list of concerns. I suppose we had better confirm it before we go raze her damned palace."

"You think?" Kohar asked. "I'm impressed you can manage it this ear—"

A sudden scream cut him off, and at the far end of the long barracks, a wave of men surged toward them, bellowing for Nerek, motioning, bolting away as quickly as they could.

Nerek shut the men up with a bellow.

"Wake up anyone who might still be asleep," Kohar ordered as they took in the latest victim. "Succubi feed on sleeping men – the runes are to connect the demons to dreams."

Noise exploded around him as the men took in Kohar's words, more than a few of the soldiers making the motions to ward against demons, and hastily muttered prayers mingled with the chatter.

Turning away from Kohar, Nerek began bellowing orders, instilling order with his fists when words did not suffice. In mere minutes, the barracks were empty, and soon the sounds of soldiers at drill and chores filled the castle.

Rubbing his forehead, longing for a cup of tea, Kohar forced himself to focus on the matter at hand.

The Countess was not the immediate problem, though she was the likeliest source. Complicated magic with no other mage in sight meant that someone had premade the spells for a lackey to place – further credence was lent to that theory by the traces of rune wax on the foreheads of the victims.

So, they needed to find the rat.

He rubbed his forehead and spoke as Nerek returned, almost smiling at the satisfied look on his face that always appeared when Nerek got to shout and threaten and toss things about. "We've got a rat, Nerek," he said. "It takes a mage at least as good as I to summon a succubus, and I would know if another of my caliber were around. As I am the only, that means the necessary spells were premade and then given to someone else to administer, hence the rune wax."

"I figured as much," Nerek replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Kohar wondered absently, for likely the millionth time, why the man never bothered to shave. One would think Nerek would enjoy something that involved a sharp knife.

"The men are allowed leave on a regular rotation; I'll check the logs and see who was in the last batch. We're likeliest to find our rat amongst them." He grinned and looked at his cousin. "Unless Siran is up to something, but he's still too asleep to be committing crimes."

For reply, Siran yawned. "I am up to hunting out breakfast, but that's about it."

Kohar nodded. "I'm certain the cooks are already at work. By all means seek them out; this is not your problem."

Smiling faintly, Siran nodded, gripped his shoulder, then left the barracks in search of food.

"Lazy bastard," Nerek muttered.

Ignoring the complaint, because he knew damn good and well Nerek was just jealous Siran got to eat, Kohar swatted Nerek's arm and made him focus. "Lists, you lazy lummox, get the lists. Who was on leave? Who left? Who stayed? Who traded out?"

"It's against the rules to trade without permission from me," Nerek said. He snorted. "Which means at least a dozen of the bastards did it. Come on, we'll look'em all over." Bellowing a last few orders at the senior officers tending the bodies, he led the way to his office.

Inside, wonderful smells wafted over him. Kohar's stomach growled as he took in the food set out – simple bread and cheese and hot cider, but it looked a feast to him. Enough for two, so the cooks had known he'd be here.

Or maybe, he thought as he watched Nerek, they just knew how much the good Captain was capable of eating.

He strode to the desk and stole Nerek's seat, pulling the platters close and helping himself. Picking up a mug of cider, he looked over the rim at Nerek, who was rifling through surprisingly neat sheaves of paper.

"Here we are," he said after a few minutes, then yanked a hunk of bread out of Kohar's hand. He motioned to the papers as he picked up the second mug. "All good men, I cannot picture them as being responsible for something like this." He shook his head.

"It's always the one you least expect," Kohar murmured.

Nerek grunted. "True enough. Look at what a family of rough and ugly sailors produced." He smirked at Kohar.

Ignoring him, Kohar flipped through the lists. He knew most of the names; it was hard not to know them, really. Being the only mage in residence, he worked closely with the soldiers. "Why would they do it?"

"The Countess is a damned pretty woman."

A flicker of annoyance passed through Kohar, though he couldn't say why. The Countess was pretty – beautiful, in fact. No one could understand why his grace had turned her down at the last moment, and he had never seen fit to explain – not even to Kohar and Nerek.

"Maybe I should be examining you," he said sourly. "Did you fall beneath the wiles of the Countess, Captain?"

"I wouldn't kill my own men," Nerek said, voice cold.

Kohar nodded in apology. "I know."

Nerek glanced down at the lists. "I'll start grilling my men. You had better go speak with his grace."

Grimacing, Kohar swallowed a last bite of bread, drained his cider, then stood up. "Yes, I had better. Make certain you leave no detail out when questioning the men. If they are not guilty, perhaps they might have unwittingly spied some clue. Surely someone saw something tonight that would help us."

Nodding, Nerek reclaimed his seat as Kohar stood.

Brushing crumbs from his robe, smoothing back a loose strand of hair, Kohar departed and made his way back to the main part of the castle.

Servants ran to and fro now, busily tending to the morning chores. The faintest threads of gray were beginning to lighten the sky, though it would not be true light for a little while yet. He stopped a passing maid, the poor thing already looking harried and out of breath. "Is his grace awake?" he asked.

"Yes, your lordship," the maid said, indicating the tray in her hands. "I was just taking him breakfast."

"I will take it to him," Kohar said, relieving her of the tray and sending her off with a nod.

Reaching the end of the hall, he turned right to go toward the northern staircase – and paused as Siran stepped out of a spare bedroom. He smiled. "Were you well fed?"

"Of course," Siran said with a smile. His smiles were always pretty; Kohar didn't doubt for a moment Siran knew how to use those smiles to full effect. "Did you have any luck so far with finding your culprit?"

"Unfortunately, no," Kohar replied. "We've barely begun, however. I am off to report to his grace. Was there anything you required?"

Siran smiled again, but this time it was slow and burning, a bit of an unmistakable gleam in his eye. "Not at the moment. Thank you for asking."

"Of course," Kohar murmured. "If you will excuse me for now, I do not want to keep his grace waiting."

"By all means," Siran said, sketching a brief bow. "I will see you later, Kohar."

Indeed he would. Kohar forced himself to calm down as he reached the stairs and began the climb up to his grace's solar. After all this time…was Siran actually showing an interest in him? What had changed? Regions, he'd given up doing anything but admiring since Nerek had informed him in that damnably smug and annoying way of his that Siran only had a taste for women.

Maybe stupid Nerek didn't know his cousin as well as he thought.

Smiling faintly, he knocked lightly on the Duke's door, then pushed it open.

Bedros, the Duke of Rehm, was one hundred percent noble Hollarian. Pale skin, dark eyes, ink-black hair still in its messy sleeping braid. Tall, broad in the chest and shoulders, and currently he wore only an old pair of leggings and a faded deep violet tunic. He'd tugged on light leather house boots, but that was all. The Duke was a beautiful man, even if he unfortunately shared Nerek's tendency towards always looking rough and unkempt. Somehow all the years of living in a harsh climate defending the border against all comers only enhanced that beauty.

Bedros turned at the sound of noise, and greeted Kohar with a grunt. "I hear there is a succubus on my premises?"

"I see the gossip mills are still functioning flawlessly," Kohar said dryly, setting the breakfast tray on the table near the fireplace. "Yes, your grace. Nerek and I are currently attempting to locate the culprit responsible." He quickly explained what little they did know; sadly, it took only a moment.

Grunting, Bedros sat down and began to eat. "Tell me everything you know about succubi, Kohar."

Kohar frowned in thought. "Not much, your grace. Demons are not my specialty, though of course I was required to study them. They are part of the fornication class of demons, and high in that class. A level two or three ranking, I believe. Succubi prey upon any individual who lusts after the female form."

Bedros' brows furrowed. "I see. So…what about those who would rather fuck men?"

Ignoring the crudity of the statement, long used to it from both Bedros and Nerek, Kohar answered the question. "The succubi have a counterpart – incubi. An incubus preys upon anyone who lusts after the male form."

"Interesting," Bedros said. "What could possibly rank above a demon that kills men and women with lust?"

"One who chooses to use lust, rather than needing to," Kohar replied, "or one for which lust is required in the summoning. Succubi and incubi feed on lust, but summoning them does not require it. Which also reminds me that if you prefer women, you cannot summon a succubus. If you prefer men, you cannot summon an incubus. One must be immune to the demon being summoned in order to call it forth."

Bedros quirked a brow at that. "Makes sense, I suppose." He drummed his fingers on the table. "Have I pissed off anyone besides the Countess in recent history?"

"Only the usual assortment," Kohar replied. "No one capable of this level of magic."

"Including our dear Countess," Bedros said. "I could be wrong, gods know I was wrong about plenty where she is concerned, but I never heard anything about her knowing magic, never mind being capable of summoning demons."

Kohar frowned. That had not occurred to him. They had leapt immediately to the Countess as the culprit, but had not stopped to consider if she knew magic. "She very likely has mages on staff, your grace."

Bedros snorted. "Kohar, if I told you to summon a demon that would likely kill several people, all for the sake of petty revenge, what would you do?"

"Tell you to take yourself to the Regions," Kohar replied immediately. "Your revenge isn't worth my license." Not when it had taken the greater part of his life to obtain that license. His skills and reputation were far too precious to him.

They would be far too precious to nearly any mage to risk losing them on something like this. The summoning of demons was not illegal, per se, but murder certainly was – and this constituted murder. "So if it is the Countess, then she is hiring a disreputable mage to do the summoning, and hired someone else to do the actual casting here. That explains a bit, but nothing terribly useful."

"To be honest," Bedros said. "I would be astonished were it actually her. She has a temper, that's for certain, but it's been months. This does not seem her style."

Kohar looked at him. "Her style?"

"Wasting a great deal of money on someone she hates," Bedros replied. "She wants nothing to do with me now, or so she said as she departed. Her ladyship would not trouble herself to waste gold merely to hurt me, and this succubus problem does not strike me as the sort of thing to come cheap."

"Then who else, your grace?" Kohar asked. "Surely no one across the border would attempt this. As you say, it is a costly venture." He could feel the beginnings of a headache.

Bedros shrugged. "I don't know. Until we figure it out, we will focus our energies on fighting the demon." He looked up, dark brown eyes serious. "That means the bulk of this will fall to you, my friend. We will back you up, of course, but you are the mage and it is magic we fight."

"Of course, your grace," Kohar said, sweeping him a bow. "Unless you further require my presence, I will go and begin to work on that. I'm afraid it will require a great deal of research."

He received a dismissing wave. "Be certain to get dressed first, Kohar. I'm amazed you haven't gone insane slinking around in that robe of yours. Never mind you must be distracting Nerek like crazy."

Kohar rolled his eyes. "Nerek is too busy figuring out which of his men might be helping to get the succubus in here to find time to harass me."

Bedros quirked a brow at him, but said nothing, merely returned to his breakfast and the pile of correspondence someone had brought to him earlier.

Dismissed, Kohar returned quickly to his own room. Anticipating his wants, someone had brought a pitcher of hot water and cleaning rags. Stripping out of his robe, he quickly washed down, then pulled on fresh underclothes before unclipping his hair.

Picking up his comb, he began the long process of untangling and combing his curls. Damn his father anyway; Kohar had wished all his life to possess his mother's perfectly straight hair. Thinking of his parents made him think of his younger brother, who was all the family he had left now. His older sister, a traveler, had died climbing a mountain. Illness had taken their parents nearly a decade ago. His brother was a monk, now, studying arcane and esoteric magic for which even Kohar lacked the patience.

A pity he was too far away; likely he'd know far more about demons than Kohar.

Setting aside his comb, Kohar quickly bound his hair up in a knot at the back of his head, securing it with a sharply pointed comb carved from jade. Hair managed, he moved to his wardrobe and quickly pulled on leggings and a long-sleeved white shirt. Over this he drew a floor-length tunic split up the center in both front and back to about mid-thigh. It was dark blue, the edges meticulously embroidered with dark gray thread in a diamond pattern. A belt of supple black leather wrapped twice around his waist, and to this he attached his keys and various other things he would need through the course of the day.

He sat down to draw on his knee-high boots, stamping to settle them properly into place, then retrieved his monocle and tucked it into a special pocket of his tunic. Then he finally felt ready to endure the rest of the day.

His first goal was the library. An extensive collection, though nothing like that which Kohar's family boasted. In fact, more than a few of the books in Bedros' collection actually belonged to Kohar. He had not brought much with him upon being assigned to the Duke, but his books he had been most vehement about taking.

Unfortunately, the collection's offerings in the way of demons were minimal. He did not typically deal with such high level magic, and so did not waste space or money on things he would practically never use. Hopefully the few volumes he did possess would suffice.

The first book he pulled down was a general bestiary of magical creatures. Simply understanding the way they were indexed took a year or two of intense study, never mind the cross referencing and copious footnotes and bibliographies. Flipping quickly through the pages, he at last found the pages he needed.

Reading over the information provided told him nothing he did not already know, but it did tell him where to look to find what he sought. Luckily, he had two of the five books listed that would address the matter. Returning to the shelves, he quickly pulled them down.

It was the second book which told him what he really needed to know – the requirements for the summoning itself, as well as the further requirements for sealing the demon up to be carried and cast by a third party.

As he'd already known, it was an extremely complicated and expensive undertaking. The more he read, the more he agreed that it was unlikely to be the Countess after all. Never mind the expense – as angry as she'd been, he couldn't see the Countess killing men simply to exact revenge for a broken betrothal.

Which really made matters confusing. This wasn't the sort of undertaking the enemy would choose either; something this expensive they would not waste on a mere border guard in a corner of the kingdom that was relatively quiet so far as that went.

No, the one thing from their initial impression that remained firmly entrenched was that it was personal. Someone bore a grudge against the Duke.

He read through all he'd found one more time, moving to the desk to make notes he could take to Nerek. Hopefully they would be able to narrow out who in the castle was responsible. If it wasn't one of the soldiers, then one of the servants was likely.

The threatened headache was definitely coming to pass. Sighing, he waited for the ink to dry on his notes, leaning back in his seat and staring up at the ceiling. This entire mess was ruining his schedule. It would take him days to catch up on the work he'd hoped to accomplish. Madame Karen was going to kill him – slowly – for not having her spells finished today. She was an infrequent client, but one who paid well. He was going to suffer for not having her spells ready on time.

Well, there was no help for it. Men were dying. The rest could wait.

Standing, he picked up his notes and rolled the sheaf of paper up, securing it with a piece of string and tucking it beneath his tunic.

Nerek was likely—

He oofed slightly as he crashed into something hard. Rubbing his nose, which throbbed painfully with the impact, Kohar glared up at whomever he'd run into – and his irritation promptly vanished. "My apologies."

"Not at all," Siran replied. "The fault is entirely my own." He reached out to gently touch Kohar's face, stroking lightly over his forehead, then his cheek, going at last to the nose.

Kohar really hoped it wasn't bright red and bruising. That was all he needed, to look like a great buffoon now that he was finally getting the sort of attention from Siran he'd always hoped. He opened his mouth to say something when an irritated cough broke into their nice little moment.

He shifted his glance to glare at Nerek, who stood glaring nastily back. "Yes?"

"I was coming to see if you'd learned anything new," Nerek said, all but growling the words. "His grace said he'd set you to research."

Reluctantly, Kohar stepped back from Siran. "I was coming to find you, as a matter of fact." He pulled the paper from his tunic and held it out. "Everything of use I have learned. Have you turned up anything useful with the soldiers?"

"Maybe," Nerek replied, voice still terse. The green eyes, even darker than Siran's, were hard as stone. "It appears one of my men is missing; apparently he often sneaks away to visit a sweetheart in the village. My men gave up this knowledge only because their own are dying."

No wonder he was in such a foul mood. On top of the deaths, his men had been acting foolishly for at least a few months now. "He has not returned?"

"No," Nerek said. "I was going to ask if you wanted to ride into the village with me. You might catch something I would not."

"Of course I'll come," Kohar replied. "Let me fetch my cloak."

Nerek nodded. "Meet me in the courtyard." Glaring at them both one last time, he turned sharply on his heel and stalked off.

Rolling his eyes, Kohar smiled briefly at Siran, then went to fetch his cloak.

When he reached the courtyard a few minutes later, Nerek was still all but vibrating with anger.

"You know, the last thing we need right now is you losing your temper," Kohar said as he mounted his horse, a white stallion that had been his welcome gift from the Duke.

Nerek shrugged. "If you are allowed to flirt and play while my men are dying, then I think I'm allowed to lose my temper."

"Now see here—" Kohar said, bristling, because he hadn't slouched in his duties in the slightest and how dare Nerek suggest he was choosing a dalliance over duty, but he never finished, as Nerek turned his horse around and led the way past the gates and into the wide field beyond.

In the distance smoke curled up from the chimneys of the village houses. It had snowed a few days ago, but the temperature had risen a bit the day before, leaving the landscape a mixture of snow and soggy, half-frozen ground.

Normally the ride to the village was a pleasant one. As busy as he normally was, with no other mage to assist him, he seldom left the castle. It made his few trips all the more enjoyable. Often he went alone, but more than once he had accompanied Nerek on shared errands.

They were friends, after a fashion – if a man with whom he constantly argued, a man who drove him crazy, and who as often as not he wanted to throttle, could be considered a friend.

Today, however, the tension in the air was palpable. Nerek was well and truly mad at him, something which had not happened since their first year here together. Then, Nerek had not taken kindly to being told he would have to work with a mage. 'Uppity, fussy, soft city know it all' had been the words used. Kohar was hardly likely to forget them, or the scathing tone in which they'd been spoken.

It had only taken a couple of months for things to smooth out between them, though smooth for them was merely coarse sand rather than rock.

He stifled a sudden yawn, and wished he'd had time for a good cup of tea before being dragged about to solve a problem that he already knew would cost him hours of sleep. Perhaps he'd find time to grab something while they hunted out the missing soldier.

"So do you think this man is likely to be the one we seek?" he asked, tired of the angry silence. Nothing good ever came from letting Nerek brood. It only made his temper worse. Better to distract him.

Nerek shook his head. "No. He's young and stupid, and obviously still thinking with his dick," he shot a nasty glare at Kohar as he said it, "but not malicious. If he's behind it, I can't think he's doing it willingly. More likely, we'll find our culprit somewhere else."

Kohar attempted to keep a rein on his own temper. "If you do not stop implying that I'm thinking more about your cousin than about my job, I will ensure that you never have to worry about a succubus attacking you. I am not so irresponsible as that, do not suggest it again."

"Fine," Nerek said bitingly. "You tell me what I'm supposed to think when I stumble across my cousin pawing you while we're supposed to be working."

"It's none of your business," Kohar snapped. "That's what you should be thinking."

"Fine," Nerek repeated, and abruptly switched back the subject of the missing soldier, giving Kohar his name, rank, description, and everything else they might possibly need to find him.

By the time they reached the village, the tension had eased, but not so much he could not still feel the sharp edge of it lingering in the air. Stifling a sigh, Kohar hailed the first villager he saw, sliding from his horse to speak with her.

The local baker woman. Large of frame, but not an unpleasant bone in her body. "Greetings," Kohar said with a smile, and exchanged pleasantries for several minutes before finally inquiring after the missing soldier.

It took them three hours of asking and searching before they were finally pointed toward a ramshackle hut a few miles from the village, belonging to a shepherdess known for being a little too willing to lift her skirts.

Grumbling, wishing desperately for his bed or a hot meal, Kohar gladly let Nerek lead the way into the hills where they finally found the shack. It was as dilapidated as their informant said it would be.

He dismounted and stood back as Nerek approached the shack. When no reply came, Nerek threw the door open with enough force Kohar was astonished it did not fly off its hinges.

Nerek silently beckoned him, and with a frown Kohar obediently went.

Inside, on a sheepskin rug which had seen better days, sat their missing soldier. Nothing more than a glance was required to see that he had met his end at the hands of a succubus.

"The shepherd woman?" he asked.

"Probably fled into the hills," Nerek said with a grunt. "I'll send some men to recover the body, see if they can't find the girl, but I doubt she can provide any sort of useful answer.

Kohar agreed with a grunt. "So this is not our culprit, which puts us right back where we began." He stifled another sudden yawn, wondering why he was so damned tired all of a sudden. Certainly an ordinary day required just as much work as this, as often as not.

Perhaps it was simply the fact that no one would be sleeping well or long until the succubus was found. At least it was not an incubus, though that was poor comfort. Perhaps he was not in immediate danger, but that left the rest of the castle to worry about.

Silently and swiftly they mounted their horses and began the long trek back to the castle.

They were only a mile from it when a soldier came rushing toward them, breathless and frantic. "Captain! Captain! Another has fallen!"

"What?" Nerek roared. "The men were ordered to stay awake at all costs, who in the Nether Regions dared to disobey me?"

The soldier swallowed, but did not cower away from his furious Captain. "Telen said he'd be safe, C-Captain, because he never had cared for tits. H-his words, Captain. We told him not to, anyway…"

Kohar swore loudly, barely noticing he used the exact same tone and phrasing as Nerek. They shared a look.

"An incubus," he said grimly. "Whoever is out to harm his grace managed to summon not one but two costly demons. That doesn't make any sense. At the very least, we've just gone from looking for one mastermind to two, even if only one person is required to release the magic here." He frowned. "I need to return to my books." He might also need someone better than himself to solve this mystery, but the only person he could consult was months away at the top of a damned mountain.

He did not dare speak with someone back home; that risked spreading word of the trouble to others, and the fewer who knew about the problem inflicting the Duke, the better.

"Come on," Nerek said sharply, breaking into his thoughts, kicking his horse into a gallop.

Kohar promptly did the same, the soldier who had come to find them close on their heels.

They reached the castle only minutes later.

He did not linger, but threw himself off his horse and tossed the reins at whomever was standing nearest, then bolted to the castle and through the halls to the library.

Angrily he began to yank down books, throwing them open to pour over the pages, turning back to the shelves to yank down still more. He worked for hours, but still could not find the answers he wanted and needed – in no small part, he suspected, because he was not quite certain what he sought.

Only when Nerek arrived to inform there had been two more did he pause, and only then long enough to share a furious, agonized silence. Relating what little he had learned, he then kicked Nerek out and resumed his work.

He looked up again at the sound of dishes rattling.

"You have been in here for hours," Siran said quietly, a faint frown of concern on his face. "I thought some food might be appreciated."

Kohar nodded. "Yes, thank you." He moved to the table and picked up a piece of bread covered in melted cheese, all but moaning at the taste, his stomach growling in agreement. He looked up after the bread was gone. "I am sorry you have come at such a terrible time. I know you visit here to rest up between your ventures."

Siran shrugged, smiling faintly. "I am sorry I am not more help."

"It's not your problem to attend," Kohar replied. "Nerek and I will figure it out, one way or another."

"Mm," Siran murmured noncommittally. He reached out and gently pushed back bits of hair which had come loose to fall across Kohar's forehead, stroking his skin gently, fingers lingering on one curl before finally pulling away. "It is a shame that all this trouble colors my visit."

Kohar moved the slightest bit closer, licking his lips, wishing he knew what had finally caused Siran to notice him. "We'll figure it out before too long. Between Nerek and I, nothing every causes trouble for long."

"Yes, indeed. He has always been good at charging his way through any difficulty…and you…" His gaze dropped to Kohar's mouth. "Well, I am told you come highly praised by those who know the ways of magic. Very highly praised."

"I try," Kohar said quietly, tilting his head up as Siran dipped his own.

The sound of the door opening broke the kiss, and Kohar turned to see a furious Nerek staring at them. Not a glare, no…that expression was far too icy and cold to be a glare. His eyes were as bitter and hard winter.

Kohar saw absently that he'd come with a tray of food and cider.

Without a word, Nerek turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

"I had better get back to work," Kohar said, turning away. "Thank you for the food."

"Of course," Siran murmured. "Perhaps we can speak again later."

Nodding, but not turning to look at him, Kohar returned to the book he'd been perusing and resumed his work.

But he gave it up again as the door once more closed behind him.

He'd wanted Siran for years, had looked forward to each and every one of his rare visits. On many occasions he'd entertained thoughts of what kissing him – among other things – would be like.

The answer to the question was…

Well, rather lackluster. He'd expected a great deal more than to feel simply as though they were going through motions. Perhaps it was simply guilt that he was doing such things while men were attacked by demons.

Still, he'd expected a great deal more heat. A great deal more period. All those years of wanting and watching had ended in a moment that fell flat. Not that the kiss had been awful or anything…it simply had not been what he'd thought it would be.

Shaking his head, Kohar shoved thoughts of the disappointing kiss aside and focused only his work.

Work, however, soon became almost impossible. He spent more time yawning than reading, and his eyes felt heavier with every passing second. What he needed was that nasty concoction Nerek occasionally made when he had to stay awake through the night to deal with one problem or another. Foul tasting, but effective.

He did not, however, dare going anywhere near Nerek at the moment. In all the years he'd known Nerek, Kohar had never seen him look quite like that.

The opening of the door startled him, and he looked up half hoping to see Nerek, ready and eager to pick a fight.

Instead, it was only the Duke. Kohar wondered why he felt disappointed. More guilt, likely. He'd much rather face Nerek and get the fight over with, but he doubted Nerek would tolerate his presence any time soon.

"What in the Regions did you do to set off Nerek?" Bedros asked. "I finally had to order him to his office. It's bad enough we've got two demons running around this place; I don't need him killing people as well."

Kohar made a face and tersely explained what had happened.

"Poor Nerek," Bedros said idly. "Well, I'll let the two of you work that out, though if my opinion matters at all, Kohar, you are better off rid of your silly infatuation."

His immediate reaction was to take issue at his feelings for Siran to be termed a 'silly infatuation' – but the disappointing kiss still lingered on his mind, and he found that he was not eager to find out if a second one would be better than the first.

Interesting.

Also annoying.

Sighing, he turned back to his books.

"Have you managed to learn anything new about our demon problems?" Bedros asked.

"Your grace, all I've managed to learn is that this sort of thing could not be done lightly, and we already knew that. I have no damned idea how someone could summon both an incubus and a succubus, nevermind bind both for transport to be cast by someone else. That's hard enough with one demon. It indicates either that two mages are involved…or one incredibly powerful mage, who is somehow immune to the lustful effects of the demons."

"A mage of your skill?"

Kohar snorted. "No, your grace. Someone better than me, if we go with the assumption that one person is doing this. I think it safest – I cannot imagine two mages willing to risk the loss of their licenses to help someone exact this level of revenge. Which reminds me – surely your grace has thought of someone by now who hates you this much?"

Bedros shook his head. "No, I have not." He sat down in the empty desk chair. "The only person who hates me is the Countess, and I do not believe she is behind this."

Heaving a long sigh, Kohar flipped through the book he was reading in frustration. "It makes no sense, your grace. I firmly believe these attacks are personal in nature. There must be someone."

"Well, your guess is as good as mine. If I angered someone, then they kept their displeasure too well hidden. You said a mage better than you – yet you are amongst the highest ranking mages in the country. Your license is top level."

Kohar shrugged. "Second highest, technically. My brother is a monk; they are permitted to practice magic at a level outlawed everywhere else in the country."

"You didn't piss off your brother, did you?" Bedros asked, quirking a brow. "If you angered him the way you've upset Nerek, I could see it."

"No, my brother and I are quite close, for all we've not seen one another in a few years," Kohar said, irritation rising at the reminder he'd angered Nerek. "As for Nerek, he knows damn good and well I would not slack on my duties. One kiss does not mean I'm failing in my duties." He slammed his book shut irritably.

Bedros' brows went up. "I don’t think that's why he's angry, Kohar."

"What in the Regions is that supposed to mean?" Kohar snapped. "Your grace," he added belatedly.

"Not my place to say," Bedros said, looking amused by the lack of politeness. "Are you certain your brother isn't angry with you?" He laughed. "That would certainly be in keeping with my life, to be attacked by an angry monk."

Making a face, Kohar reached up to rub tiredly at his aching head, massaging it with his fingertips.

He went still as he felt something familiar there, and drew his fingers away to rub them together.

Wax. He drew out his monocle and slipped it into place to be certain, but he would know the feel of rune wax anywhere.

Nearby, Bedros had gone still. "What's wrong?" He asked, voice quiet but laced with steel.

"Rune wax," Kohar said softly. "Someone placed rune wax on my forehead, and from the looks of it if I had fallen asleep…"

Bedros stood up, voice lashing out. "Who in the Regions put it there?"

"No one has touched me…" Realization cut through him like a knife, making him hot with anger, hurt, betrayal. "Except Siran. He touched my forehead twice today."

Hot anger turned to cold fear as something else occurred to him. "Nerek. If he's tried to get me, he'll try to get to Nerek."

Not waiting for Bedros' reply, he threw open the library door and ran as fast as he could through the halls, through the castle yards to the barracks, shoving soldiers from his path until he at last reached Nerek's room at the back.

He was asleep, slumped over his desk, a jar of cider nearby. By the power of his monocle, Kohar could just see the faint gleam of magic on Nerek's forehead.

Striding across the room, he attempted to shake Nerek awake. No good. He attempted to hit and beat the bastard, but still he had no luck.

The magic was starting to work, damn it to the Nether Regions!

Looking frantically around, his eyes lighted upon the poker.

Nerek would kill him – but at least Nerek would be alive to kill him.

Grabbing it up, he thrust the poker into the fireplace and willed it to heat up. When he could not bear to stand still any longer, he turned around and strode back to the sleeping Nerek. Not giving himself time to think about it, hoping the pain would override the deceptive pleasure of the succubus trying to leach away Nerek's life, he held the hot poker to Nerek's side.

With a jerk and a scream, Nerek sat up – hard enough he stumbled from his chair, crashing to the floor, swearing and trying to hold both his head and his side while struggling to find his feet.

Kohar didn't wait, but threw himself down, straddling Nerek, hitting him hard on the chest to get him to lie still enough that he could finally reach up to wipe away the rune wax still on his forehead.

He realized, as he finally drew back, that his hands were trembling. "Are you all right?" he asked, barking the words out, burying his hands in his robes to hide their unsteadiness.

"What in the Regions do you think?" Nerek snapped. "You're doing a damn poor job of killing me, if that's what you're about."

Kohar hit him hard in the chest again, then stood up, making certain to make it as painful as possible. "See if I ever save you from a succubus again," he snapped. "If this is how you show your gratitude, next time I'll just leave you to rot."

Nerek blinked. "I fell asleep?"

"Yes," Kohar said, settling his robes into place, annoyance increasing as he realized that he'd lost his comb in the struggle, and now his damn hair was going everywhere. "Now if you're done whining, we need to kill your stupid cousin."

Immediately Nerek's face closed up, going as cold as it had been in the library. "I'd love to kill the bastard, but unless I'm mistaking, killing was not what you had in mind a few hours ago."

"He's the one responsible for the demons," Kohar replied, feeling the anger and shame and humiliation wash over him anew. "The library was just his way of getting the rune on me. If Bedros hadn't come by, I likely would have fallen asleep, then you and I would both be dead."

Nerek's glare was fierce enough that Kohar almost recoiled. "Bastard," he said softly. "I will kill him with my bare hands." Standing up, seeming to have forgotten his wounded side, he snatched up his sword belt and strapped it into place as he stalked from the room, bellowing for his officers.

"Where is Siran?" he barked.

"Captain, he left a little over an hour ago," said one of the lieutenants. "He said you were sending him out to follow a clue about the demons."

Nerek's bellow of rage sent the soldiers running for cover. "Where did he go?" he snarled.

"Across the border," said a guard from the farthest corner of the room. "I saw him when I was on watch, but when I asked they said he'd gone on your orders, so I did not…"

Cursing, Nerek stalked past them and out of the barracks, headed for the stables.

"Forget it," Kohar said sharply, grabbing his sleeve. He held fast with both hands when Nerek tried to tear away, digging his heels in. "We can't just charge across the border, and it's resumed snowing. It would be a waste of time and effort, and I did not save your damned life so you could freeze to death. He'll get his comeuppance."

Tearing away, Nerek started barking orders to his men, cuffing several, sending the rest running for their lives.

Bedros sighed from where he'd finally joined them. "We are still left with the problem of the demons, and we have yet to solve the riddle. I guess we'll never know now…and how do we get rid of the demons?"

"We make certain no one still carries the runes upon them," Nerek said tiredly. "Then, we find a way to ward against them. None of my work included wards against such things, because I never thought anyone would dare go to such lengths…"

It would be taxing work. Wards were hard to maintain as it was; to maintain wards against demons would be extremely tiring. Yet, they had no idea who was behind this or why, which meant the problem was likely to continue.

To make matters worse, he still could not sleep for some hours yet – not until he was certain that no trace of the spells remained anywhere on the premises. Though everyone would have been cautioned to make certain they bore no marks upon their person, it was entirely possible Siran had managed to mark a few of them anyway, especially since he'd managed to get both Kohar and Nerek.

"I cannot believe that bastard would betray me like this," Nerek said, rejoining him and Bedros. "All those times he's been here, I wonder now what he was really up to – not relaxing, surely. Not if he was so willing to backstab me this way. Bastard."

Bedros clapped his back in sympathy. "A merc is a merc, I guess. I just wish he'd bothered to tell us for whom he was working."

"Rider!"

The guard's voice cut through the castle, and everyone went still from surprise for a moment.

Then they all rushed to the courtyard, as Nerek called for the gates to be opened and motioned for his soldiers to stand ready to attack.

Kohar called up spells in his mind, forming them loosely, not yet certain which ones would best serve. He tensed as a figure rode into the courtyard on an exhausted-looking brown mare. The man was heavily cloaked against the weather, snow almost painfully white against the perfect black of his cloak.

The man dismounted clumsily, though it was hard to say if it was simply from the same exhaustion exhibited by the horse, or from a lack of skill.

Then he threw back his hood, and Kohar promptly forgot all about spells.

He ran forward. "What in the Regions are you doing here?" He demanded, grabbing the man's shoulders and shaking him hard.

"It's good to see you too," the man replied, smiling faintly in weary amusement. "Let me go."

Kohar released him, but only to draw his brother into a tight embrace. "It is good to see you, Taniel, but what in the world are you doing here?"

Taniel returned the embrace, and kissed Kohar's cheeks. "I wish it was just for a visit, but…"

"But what?" Kohar asked, shaking Taniel lightly.

"But I'm afraid that a couple of months ago I was responsible for the banishment of a fellow monk – he promised to exact revenge. I received a letter a month ago that I would soon be attending your funeral…and came immediately, knowing he was likely going to harm you."

Kohar stared at his brother, struggling to find words.

"You're the reason we've been plagued by those damned demons?" Nerek said.

Taniel winced, and looked miserably at the ground. "Yes," he said quietly. "My former brother was banished for consorting with demons, something we are strictly forbidden to do. I caught him, and reported him, and he has hated me ever since."

"Let us go inside," Bedros interrupted. He stepped forward and took Taniel's arm. "You look nothing like your brother," he said, eyes on Taniel's hair, which even in the weak light of the torches was a blazing gold.

"Adopted," Kohar said. "Did I never mention that my little brother was adopted?"

"You never do," Taniel said. "I came too late, didn't I?" He looked miserable as they reached Bedros' solar, seeming not to notice as the Duke himself pushed him into a chair and pressed a glass of wine into his hands.

He sat in silence as they explained all that had happened, looking increasingly miserable with each passing minute. "I'm sorry. I tried to do the right thing…and it has only caused more pain."

"It's not your fault," Bedros said. "You did do the right thing. He is the one responsible for this, not you. Come, you should rest. Perhaps in the morning, you can help your brother ward this place against further demon attacks?"

"Yes, of course," Taniel said, looking eager and relieved and grateful. "Anything I can do to help, I will do and gladly."

"Come, then, I will show you to your bed," the Duke said, all but dragging Taniel from the room.

Kohar stared after them, vaguely amused but not quite able to pin down why.

"I think your brother is going to wake up very bald," Nerek said in dry amusement, "while his grace will soon be sporting a golden wig."

Kohar laughed. "Taniel gets that reaction a lot. I'm sure he'll be able to fend off his grace."

They fell silent, an awkwardness to it that Kohar did not like.

Of course, thinking of things he did not like brought to mind the damned kiss he sorely wished now he had not been so stupid and gullible enough to permit. Thinking of Siran now only made him sick. At least all he felt was stupid and humiliated and disgusted. Obviously it had been nothing but a stupid infatuation – one of which Siran had been aware of, to play him so damned well.

Ugh.

He scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, wishing he could banish all memory of Siran.

"Missing your backstabbing lover?" Nerek asked, voice gone cold again.

Kohar dropped his hand, glaring briefly before turning sharply away. "No," he said, voice equally frigid. If that was how Nerek wanted to behave, fine. "I was just wondering how I could have been so stupid, not that it's any of your damned business. Go ahead and say you told me so, if that will make you feel better. Stupid mage deceived by a damned merc."

He stalked toward the door, really not in the mood to have his abject stupidity rubbed in his face – especially by Nerek.

Just as he opened it, however, the door was shoved closed again, and he felt Nerek behind him, all but pressed right up against him. The room was cold, but suddenly he didn't feel it.

Turning around, he glared up at Nerek. "What?" He snapped. "Can't your gloating wait until the morning?"

"I don't want to gloat," Nerek said, voice so level and quiet that Kohar was startled into silence.

"Then what?" he finally managed.

He jumped when Nerek abruptly buried his hand in Kohar's tangled hair, and started to issue threats when his ability to speak was abruptly cut off, turning into a garbled, indistinct noise as he realized Nerek was kissing him.

It was quite the kiss. Hard and deep, as rough and demanding as Nerek was about everything, his unshaven cheeks scraping against Kohar's smooth skin, but Kohar couldn’t bring himself to really care.

Here was the rush of heat and want and need he'd expected from kissing Siran, and he moaned despite himself as the fervor of it increased. He reached up to cling to Nerek's broad shoulders, then shifted to wrap his arms around Nerek’s neck when Nerek pressed him against the door.

He finally broke away, panting for breath, staring at Nerek in disbelief. "Where in the Regions did that come from?" he asked, and suddenly a couple of the comments Bedros had made earlier in the day made a lot more sense.

"From watching that stupid backstabbing bastard actually approach you," Nerek said, dark eyes blazing as he stared into Kohar's eyes. He backed away a bit, but never completely let go of Kohar. "It was funny when you just watched, and he remained oblivious…it stopped being funny when he noticed you, too."

Kohar blinked, mind still trying to absorb the fact he had kissed Nerek and liked it very much indeed.

Nerek frowned at him, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, and finally stepped completely away.

He felt cold again, without Nerek pressed against him. Kohar rolled his eyes, shook his head, and yanked Nerek back before he could get too far away. "How long have you wanted me, Nerek? And why in the Regions didn't you say something sooner?"

"You wanted him," Nerek said sourly. "All you ever do with me is complain and argue. Every time he's around, you take pains to look even more beautiful than usual, but you really don't care when I stroll into your damn room. How in the Regions was I supposed to say anything?"

Kohar opened his mouth, then closed it again. It was true. He never fretted when Nerek was around – he never had to fret. "You've never been impressed by a pretty face," he said at last. "I didn't worry because I knew it wouldn't sway you. It's ability you admire, not appearance." He paused as something finally struck him. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Nerek looked suddenly embarrassed, cheeks going ever so faintly pink. Kohar stared, entranced. He'd had no idea it was possible for Nerek to be embarrassed about anything.

"This was a mistake," Nerek said sharply, stepping back and turning to head for the door at the opposite end of the room which led the chapel.

Kohar reached out and yanked him back. "The only mistake," he said, "was in taking this damned long to say something. A bigger mistake would be not to kiss me again. Honestly, this is what comes from beating people up for a living."

"Shut up, mage," Nerek said, growling the words, but there was no missing the relief and happiness that lit up his dark green eyes. They were, Kohar realized, all the prettier for the fact that Nerek was always so rough in appearance and manner.

Yet if Nerek were anything but rough, he would not be Nerek.

"I would shut up if you kissed me," Kohar replied, voice tart.

"That is true," Nerek said, and bent to do precisely that.