Lydia had been on her best behavior for a month, quizzing me about my daily adventures, cooking dinner for both of us, carefully avoiding the subject of Denise Hardy while she turned herself into the most attentive lover I could imagine.

She knew exactly when to go soft and exactly when to go hard with me. Exactly when I needed comfort and exactly when I needed to burn off a bad day.

She was hiding all her demon stuff, playing the role of 20c housewife. I had initially refused to let her clean or do the dishes, clinging to the idea we were roommates, and that it would be wrong to turn her into a servant.

But some days I would come home exhausted and just flop in bed, waking up in a clean apartment smelling fresh food, letting myself forget where it came from, and what this beautiful woman sitting across from me really was.

Lydia was spoiling me, and I was letting her, because I felt like this job was slowly eating away at my sanity, even if I was being showered with attention by two incredible women day and night.

I felt like an emotional ping pong ball, bouncing between them, terrified that if I lost one or both, I would slide back into terrifying loneliness, and sink right to the bottom again.

Denise had not repeated her offer to “deal with” Lydia, and I was very careful to never bring her up. Careful to shower with strong soap every morning, as if the scent of demon coming off me was a chemical problem, instead of a spiritual one.

Denise assured me she was the only one who would notice it, unless I started hanging out with faeries, or got within a few feet of another powerful mage.

I was enjoying the best of both worlds, with Denise lighting up my days and Lydia warming up my nights, until I let my guard down, and let the two of them hang out in the same room again.

* * *

Denise and I had just climbed out of the river after spending an hour underwater, using some kind of water-breathing spell while we tried to rescue a woman who had bounced the monthly payment for her autopilot, and had ended up plunging into the water at some insane speed.

I was ecstatic because she lived. Her crash field had kicked in just like it was supposed to, and projected a force bubble around the vehicle, giving her just enough air to survive until we could get her out.

Of the hundred calls we responded to in that first month, maybe twenty of them were life and death, and of those twenty, I was able to save five and get them to the hospital. I still remember their names.

Denise and I were soaking wet and filthy, but she didn’t want to go to HQ. “The showers in that place are absolute shit. No hot water, no water pressure. Can we just go to your place?”

So, we walked in the front door of my apartment together, dripping river water onto my tile, while Lydia grinned and cocked an eyebrow at us.

“Well, something good happened,” Lydia said. “Good to see you two smiling.”

“We saved one,” I said. “We actually saved one. Didn’t even require that much healing, before we pulled her out.”

Denise asked, “Can I use your shower?” like she was talking to the lady of the house, which, technically, she was.

Denise hopped in the shower, and Lydia went into full hostess mode, scooping up her wet clothes and tossing them in my washer. Then she made me take my own clothes off, until I was standing in my underwear, waiting for my turn in the shower.

Then Lydia dashed into the kitchen and actually used some of her demon stuff to go super-fast, something she had never done in front of me before. She grabbed a bunch of different vegetables from the fridge and cut them up into bite-size pieces, throwing them on a plate with sausage and sliced cheese.

I tried to grab something, and Lydia swatted my hand. “Guest eats first!” I mumbled something childish and retreated back to the bedroom, strangely self-conscious about my partner seeing me in my underwear.

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Denise and I had become incredibly close in this time, chatting about the most inane subjects, rambling on about childhood and former lovers. Admitting all kinds of deep personal shit we had never told anybody before.

Denise had dated a lot of different men in her time as a party girl, but she said she never really loved any of them, except for the metahuman pop star in California, who she had to leave when she moved back to Boston to take care of her mom.

She told me she had to run the shop while Cecilia was in rehab for a while, but she didn’t tell me why, and I didn’t press the issue.

She just told me she spent a grueling six months trying to do everything herself, until Evan recruited a couple witches from the tower to come and help her, two girls who had been her close friends for a while, until they had some kind of weird falling out over a guy.

That seemed to happen to Denise a lot, losing female friends because of stuff she did with their boyfriends. I gently called her on it, and she admitted she had done a lot of terrible things when she was drinking because she was so competitive.

She said she was too much like her mother and had to prove that she was always the prettiest girl in the room. She swore she had “grown out of that” now, determined to be a better person, and stop blaming her mom for everything.

Denise came out of the shower wrapped in a towel and asked where her clothes were. Lydia said they were being washed and offered her my old bathrobe, a frayed relic I stole from a hotel room during one of my high school debate trips.

It was the robe I wore the night Judy and I lost our virginity together, shamelessly stolen as a memento and stuffed in my closet for seven years.

Seeing Denise in it was… surreal.

Then I jumped in the shower myself, so tired and filthy, I was completely oblivious to the fact that I was leaving them alone.

* * *

Lydia offered Denise the snack plate as soon as she flopped on the couch, and Denise immediately started wolfing it down. We had been eating terrible food or not eating at all, so when Denise saw actual fresh vegetables with stuff to dip them in, she couldn’t help herself.

Denise winced a little as she reached for a slice of cheese, and Lydia said, “Are you hurt?”

Denise shook her head. “It’s not serious. I don’t heal every little thing. Healing magic can really fuck up your tissues over time. We should probably keep reminding him of that.”

“I noticed the texture mismatch on your neck, does that go all the way down your back.”

“Yeah,” Denise said. “I did a lot of damage in those early days, right after I learned to heal myself, and didn’t understand the consequences yet. Mom said I should always wait until we got home, but I wanted to be a big girl and prove I didn’t need her.”

“Do you have something for it?”

Denise nodded and gestured at her bag. “I carry ointment and stuff, but I always forget to put it on.”

Denise started to get up and grab her bag, but Lydia said, “I’ll get it, just tell me which one.”

“Blue squeeze bottle, unmarked.”

Lydia grabbed the bottle and sat down on my couch next to Denise. Lydia squeezed a little of the lotion on her hand and said, “Can I just…?”

Denise shrugged and pulled the robe down, exposing her shoulders. Lydia started to rub the lotion in, while I was still in the shower, launching into my second verse of “Werewolves of London.”

Lydia finished her shoulders and pulled more of the robe down, exposing her back. Denise gradually ended up face down on the couch and kicked her feet up, as I was strolling back to the kitchen in shorts and a Bluestar t-shirt.

I was running water in the kitchen, filling my water bottle, so I couldn’t see what was happening, and I couldn’t hear it, when Denise made a little “Mmmmm” noise.

I wandered back in the living room, took a big swig from my water bottle, and finally saw Lydia, rubbing a half-naked Denise on my couch.

I yelled, “Lydia, no!” like I was scolding a child or a dog.

Denise sat up, laughed at me, and said, “What is your problem?” The robe slipped a little more as she moved, revealing the top of her left breast.

Denise squeaked, pulled the robe up, and jumped to her feet. “Oh my god!” Then she looked at Lydia and said, “Oh my god!” again.

But instead of anger, her face lit up with admiration. She looked at Lydia and back to me. “Oh my god, she’s fantastic! I’ve spent half my life fighting these things and I forgot! She’s so good, she made me forget!” She pointed at Lydia and looked back at me, “And you tanked that for six weeks? I think I owe you an apology.”

“See?” I shouted, pointing at Lydia. “You see what I’ve been trying to tell you?” I shook my head and frowned. “Every time I think we’ve turned a corner, she does something like this, just to prove she’s not domesticated yet!”

“Dammit, Lydia! The contract is over! This is not your job anymore! Stop trying to breed me with my best friend!”

“Awww,” Denise said. “Am I really your best friend?”

“Quiet!” I scolded Denise, only laughing a little. “I’m trying to discipline my succubus!”

“Fine,” Lydia said, crossing her arms at me. “But I want you to remember this. Five years from now, when you’re in the crowd, crying at her wedding, I want you to remember, you could have had it all.”

Lydia made it an exit line, leaping gracefully in the air before she vanished into the gray.

Denise was still smiling with her mouth open. “Oh my god, she’s like a pit bull with tits! She sees you want something and she just— Grrrrr!” Denise bared her teeth and shook her head back and forth, imitating a dog with a small animal in its mouth.

“So, you see it, too, right? It’s not just me anymore? You see what I’ve been dealing with?”

Denise nodded. “Yeah, Tim, this is not a normal succubus. This is a succubus made for guys who think they’re too smart for a succubus.”

I nodded back. “Everybody wants a demon girlfriend, until she starts doing demon shit.”