Prologue

“Thanks for coming. Both of you,” Roma said with a tone of genuine appreciation.

It was dark in Old Lady Romanov’s trailer home. It always was. The occupant was a vampire, after all. Her eclectic collection of art and trinkets hung on the walls and were displayed on end tables and bookshelves. A fog of cigarette smoke hung suspended throughout the living room, wisps of gray moving gently about, propelled by nothing more than the exhalations of those seated within.

Peter Mayhew sat on the couch next to Greg. A young woman sat to Greg’s left with a cigarette held loosely between two fingers. Another was seated on Roma’s loveseat, sniffling sadly, black streaks of mascara were running down her cheeks. Both of them, like Roma, were ‘monsters’ that - at least in Greg Van Helsing’s valuation - were not a threat to humanity in dire need of execution. Unlike Roma, these two were not vampires. They were part of a rather large family of half-demons, specifically of the Incubus and Succubus variety. Peter hadn’t shaken their hands yet to verify. Roma volunteered that information when she called Greg in a panic about an hour before.

On the ride over from the Mayhew residence, Greg explained to Peter that there was a large community of what he referred to as ‘good ones’. These ‘good ones’ didn’t kill and eat people (innocent people, at least), or do anything so horrible that monster hunters around the world would be compelled to hunt them down. The girls sobbing in Old Lady Romanov’s poorly lit trailer home were a part of this community.

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Greg told Roma seriously. “What’s this about?”

“Our sister Alyson,” the young woman on the couch said, wiping tears from her cheeks and the corners of her eyes onto the sleeve of her pink hoodie. “We were at the club last night. We got separated and then…” she sniffled and began sobbing again, unable to finish.

“She just disappeared,” the woman on the couch finished for her. “Nobody’s seen her since and we can’t get ahold of her. We tried the police but it hasn’t been 24 hours so they won’t do anything. Even if they did agree to help, I don’t hold much faith in Portland’s finest. We didn’t know who else to go to.”

“Will you help us find her?” Roma asked, eyes pleading. “No normy would have been able to overpower her. She must have been taken by a real monster, Greg. I can’t even think about what she might be going through right this second.”

“She’s part-succubus too, yeah?” Greg asked, scratching at his chin.

“She is,” Roma confirmed.

“This wouldn’t be the first time a succubus got kidnapped. Far from it. As far back as I can remember people have sought them as unwilling sex slaves…”

“We don’t need to get into that right now,” Roma said quickly, flashing Greg a significant glance as the young lady on the love seat’s sobs increased in volume and frequency. “Can you help us find her? We don’t have a lot, but the three of us came up with $2,000 if you’ll take the contract.”

Peter knew before Greg responded that they were taking this contract. Despite the severity of this particular situation he found himself growing excited. He imagined himself with a Sherlock Holmes-esque hat, a wood pipe between his lips as he solved this mystery. Frowning, Peter realized that he was probably Watson in the relationship between Greg and himself. Still, acting the part of a private I was no less exciting to Peter. Even if he was the sidekick.

“Keep your money,” Greg said. “We’ll look into it.”

“I knew you would. Thanks, Greg. And thank you, too, Peter,” Roma said, smiling sadly at Peter. This smile was something he hadn’t seen on the vampire’s face before. It wasn’t seductive in the slightest.

“We’re happy to help,” Peter said brightly. He pulled out his notebook and pen. “Let’s start with introductions, then I’ve got a few questions.” Peter got to his feet, shuffled between Greg’s long legs and the coffee table and then stood between the two part-demons. He held out his right hand to the young lady on the couch. “I’m Peter Mayhew.”

“Claire,” she said, placing her trembling hand in Peter’s.

***infobox claire. 20 years old, 36% succubus. Hobbies include: (all basic bitch shit.)

“Nice to meet you, Claire. And?” he asked, turning and holding his hand out to the young lady on the loveseat.

“I’m Inna. Nice to meet you, Peter.” Inna shook Peter’s hand firmly, looking into his eyes with hope. “Please. Please find Alyson.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“We’ll do our best,” Peter promised. He glanced over the information sheet provided by his ability.

***infobox Inna. 19 years old. 66% Succubus. Unknown to Inna herself, this ‘young lady’ has been reincarnated over a dozen times - always as a part or full Demon. Her last incarnation was on an entirely different planet where she did retain memories of her previous life. When she died an old woman feared by cultivation-style martial artists around the planet, she was returned to Earth.

Peter blinked rapidly, lips slightly parted. This woman was isekei’d to a cultivation world. The info-box made it sound like she had quite the experience and cultivation success, and then died and has no memory whatsoever that it even happened. Should he tell her? Someone should tell her. Peter really wanted to tell her, but it didn’t seem like a good time to spring that kind of thing on her. She’d already been through enough emotional turmoil today.

“What’s the name of the club?” Greg asked. “Where your sister went missing.”

“Club de Tac,” Claire said, not looking away from the coffee table. “We go there like three times a week. The owner lets us in even though we’re under 21.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” Peter asked, writing the name of the club on his notebook. He’d Guugle the address later.

The young ladies looked at each other questioningly.

“I left with a guy,” Claire admitted, ashamed. She let her hair fall over her face, hiding behind the thick, glossy black locks. “Before that, Alyson was with us at the bar. We had a few drinks. I don’t know.”

“What time did you leave?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know. Late? Maybe 11:30?”

“You left before 11,” Inna corrected. “Alyson and I danced for a while after that. It was probably 11:40 or so when I left her to go to the bathroom. When I came back she was just gone. I thought maybe she’d left with someone, too. That is why we go to Club de Tac. To meet guys. Anyway, I called her. Nothing. Texted her. Nothing. I ended up going home around midnight. When I woke up and she wasn’t there,” Inna stopped, glanced left, and then back to Peter. “She’s my roommate, by the way. When I saw she never came home I called again. It went straight to voicemail. This is so not like her. Alyson’s a flake, for sure. But she wouldn’t just ghost her sister like that. No way.”

“Did you see her chatting with anyone? Any pickup attempts that went well?” Peter asked. He considered that for a moment. “Or really not well?”

Inna laughed bitterly. “We tend to get some attention, yeah.” She looked down, considering the question earnestly. “There was a group of Chads. Total d-bags. Wait… Claire wasn’t the guy you went home with one of the Chads?”

Behind her curtain of black hair, Peter could see Claire’s face redden.

“His name was Kyle,” she said, voice as low as a whisper.

“Of course it was,” Inna said, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t judge me, Inna. I needed it last night. You know how it is.”

Peter’s head cocked to the side as he observed the two of them. Considering they were both part succubus, he wondered if they legitimately ‘needed’ sexual release even more than most. He figured they probably did, and wanted to ask, but decided against it.

“Could it be that Alyson, too, really needed something and left with someone she might not have on a typical night?” he asked. He was trying to deduce whether she’d left willingly or was actually kidnapped but realized that, either way, if she hadn’t gotten back to her friends at this point, it didn’t matter which.

“Maybe,” Inna said consideringly. “Still, she would have answered when I called. Or called me back. Or come home.”

Peter and Greg continued questioning the young ladies for well over an hour. Not much of what they learned seemed relevant. In fact, the only real lead they got out of it was the name and contact information of Club de Tac’s owner. Peter called her on their way back home. She seemed willing to help, but had to shout over the heavy bass in the club when Peter called. They agreed to meet in person tomorrow.

His mind was racing, coming up with to-do items on rapid fire. He was not going to sleep tonight. There was too much he had to get done. For one thing, he’d have to search the garage for his investigator’s hat. How could he be expected to solve a case without looking like someone who solved cases? He needed to order business cards representing Greg and himself as private investigators and have them overnighted. He needed to learn more about Alyson’s species and realized he might be seated next to one of the world’s leading experts on the subject.

“What do you know about succubus?” Peter asked as Greg merged onto the freeway. He tightened his seatbelt. “Succubuses? Succubai? What’s the plural? It doesn’t matter. Do you know anything about their preternatural abilities?”

Greg looked at Peter with one brow raised, lips downturned. Of course he knew a thing or two about their abilities. He was Greg Van Helsing.

“You know it really is impressive how much you can say with a look.” Peter’s eyes shot to the ceiling of his sedan as an idea struck him. “Oh my god, Greg. Peternatural. Like preternatural. That’s what I’m naming my ability.”

“Come back to us in the here and now, Peter. Don’t lose focus. And there he goes...”

Peter wasn’t listening. His eyes darted around, though he wasn’t looking at anything. They moved on their own as he tried to come up with the perfect second word to complete the name for his super power. Peternatural Probe? That wasn’t quite it. A sharp stinging across his left cheek pulled him out of his brainstorming. With one hand instinctively coming up to rub his face, Peter turned a nasty glare on Greg. The big man raised both eyebrows and waited for Peter to remember what they’d been talking about.

“Succubuses,” Greg stated confidently, though Peter wasn’t sure that was indeed the correct plural of succubus, “have a number of abilities. The most impactful, in terms of monster hunting at least, is probably their regeneration ability. A succubus body is as fragile as a human’s, but any injury or illness they suffer is completely repaired within hours. Any non-lethal injury. That’s what allows them to take part in days-long sexual encounters. A measure of their regenerative ability is shared with sexual partners for the duration of their coupling, along with an insatiable libido. And it’s probably one of the reasons they’re often kidnapped, caged, and used as sex slaves. Their abusers can dish out nearly any level of violence, sexual or otherwise, and the succubus will be ready for more within hours. Physically ready, of course. You know what I mean.”

Peter wanted to ask relevant follow-up questions, but couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Greg, did you just use the word coupling?” He began to laugh uproariously.

“What’s wrong with coupling?” Greg asked, incredulous. “I was going to say fucking, but you’re such a prude. I toned down my language to preserve your decency. I didn’t want to make you go all red in the face again. You’re welcome.”

“You’re so stinking old. I just forget sometimes.” Peter, still laughing, slapped Greg’s muscled shoulder. “Coupling...”