Succubus Gambit (Playing for Keeps): Hayteswood: Supernatural Pulps

By Scott E. Douglas

Gareth was at one of the tables eating a sandwich. "Anastasia," he said when he saw her. "You look surprisingly… not dead."

"Thanks," she said. "And you look remarkably not dead too."

 

Gareth Knight left Wildemarsh with no intention of finishing any of the business he'd left unfinished. He thought he'd managed to achieve all he wanted in life. A house in Tarenarla where he and his beloved Starkie could raise their babies and make love until they were old. Sadly, that dream didn't last long. Only five years, in fact. It seems the unfinished business needs finishing before it kills everybody Gareth loves.

 

Life for Anastasia Sharpe went the way it had always had. Working for the Service meant she had a lot of free time between killings to pursue her interests in rare esoteric charms and spells. And then came her latest sanction. It was an old one. Retire the Mission operative named Gareth Knight who was back in Wildemarsh.

 

What happens when an assassin is sent to assassinate an assassin? Perhaps what was meant to happen last time.

 

_____

Coarse language, supernatural and adult themes, violence, and a strange and delightful cast of characters.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott E. Douglas
• Release date: Jan 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393127208

Book preview

Chapter 1: Cemetery

Starkie Knight,

Devoted Wife and Mother.

THAT’S ALL GARETH WANTED on the gravestone. Starkie wouldn’t have even wanted a stone to mark her grave, but Gareth wanted something to visit.

You know you’re not safe here?

The voice was behind him. Even before he spoke Gareth sensed the reassuring presence of an old friend. I should have asked that she be buried beneath a tree, Gareth said vacantly. I think she’d have preferred that.

Detective Brian Chiswick placed his hand on Gareth’s shoulder.

Gareth looked to the sky. It’s too clear, too sunny, too bright. He looked at the rows of gravesites, all neatly mown, many with neat floral arrangements. Too neat. It’s wrong. If this was one of the shitty novels she used to enjoy reading, it’d be raining. Raining and cold.

They’re watching this grave, Chiswick said. You know that, don’t you?

Gareth shook his head. It’s fine at the moment.

Fine? You told the papers you’re going to find who killed her and—

I mean there’s only Aaron watching for now. How’re you two getting on?

Fine. He called me when you... Chiswick looked at the gravesite.

She knew about you. She knew the moment she saw you. She knew what I was like and didn’t care. She said I had a warmth, a fire. She was right, the fire was her. It’s gone now. All that’s left is cold. Maybe the girls would...

Chiswick shook his head. You’re supposed to be on the run, remember?

Would you and Aaron consider adopting some beautiful babies?

Our relationship is a kind that’s frowned upon. You know that.

I’d feel better knowing they’re safe and with someone I trust.

You hardly know Aaron.

But I know you and I trust you. You judge a man’s character slowly and accurately. You’ve been with Aaron long enough for me to trust your judgement.

How do you know my judgement isn’t clouded by romance?

When have thoughts of romance ever clouded your judgement?

When there’s sex involved.

Well you’re getting it now, aren’t you?

Maybe.

Don’t play coy, Gareth said. You boys have been at it for months. Starkie also picked— Gareth looked around. Your boy’s in danger, he snapped.

What?

Lycanthrope. You got silver in that gun of yours?

Shouldn’t matter, should it?

Usually not, Gareth felt for his cane. It wasn’t there, of course. I’ll come behind him. Don’t shoot me.

Chiswick turned and walked toward the trees where Aaron was hidden. Gareth made his way along the gravestones. He turned at one that read Frederick Janstone – Necromancer. Gareth wondered who Mister Janstone was talking to now, and did he know that person before he died.

Something was wrong.

Gareth ran for the trees where Chiswick and his mate were. The lycanthrope was still there. Gareth assumed he was the target, but if that was the case then... Gareth stopped and took a deep breath. He could sense the presence of... Something familiar was ahead, in the trees.

What the fuck are you doing back here?

Conrad! Gareth smiled.

A scruffy looking man with thick curly black hair approached. He wore an overcoat that reached to his knees covering old trousers and a torn shirt. Answer my question dick-cheese. What the fuck are you doing back here?

Come to see you, Gareth said.

Bullshit. The only time you come to see me is when you want something, and you haven’t wanted something for more than five years now.

Because I’ve been busy, in Tarenarla, raising three kids. Gareth looked back toward the cemetery.

You got three kids then you should be with them, Conrad said.

I got business here.

Like killing a fucking cop for killing the succubus you were fucking?

That too. Gareth nodded toward two figures who were approaching them.

Conrad turned.

This is Detective Brian Chiswick and his partner Aaron Fischer. Gareth nodded to the red-haired man. I’m sorry, Brian didn’t tell me your title.

"Detective. Detective Aaron Fisher, and it’s Senior Detective Brian Chiswick."

Gareth looked at Chiswick. "You didn’t tell me that."

Just means I’m old, Chiswick said. Thought you’d know that already.

This is Doctor Conrad Strange from the Museum of Modern Antiquities, Gareth said.

Professor Conrad Strange from the University of Wildemarsh. Conrad extended his hand toward Chiswick. Call me Conrad, and I must warn you, I’m a werewolf.

Chiswick shook Conrad’s hand. Werewolf? Not—

Don’t call him a lycanthrope. Gareth snapped.

I’m a proud werewolf, Conrad said. I don’t hide behind nice pussy names and I’m happy to deal with any of my kind who’re offended by what they are.

And quick to deal with anyone who’s offended on his behalf, Gareth added.

I didn’t say that, Conrad said.

No, you wouldn’t. Gareth raised an eyebrow. That’s why I did.

Conrad looked at Aaron. Partner? he said. From the smell of it that means more than just working together.

Oh, I don’t know, Aaron said. Brian can be pretty hard work sometimes. He extended his hand toward Conrad.

Conrad looked at the hand before taking it. What the hell, it’s nothing to hide.

Aaron nodded thoughtfully. He’s a good friend, isn’t he?

Conrad shrugged. No, but I tolerate him.

Because you don’t have many friends?

"Because I don’t have any friends."

Aaron looked at Brian. Professor Conrad here was ready to kill me because he thought I was going to do something bad to his friend Gareth.

Why would he think that? Brian asked.

Because I was ready to, Aaron said and looked at Chiswick. I would have if he’d have hurt you. Aaron extended his hand to Gareth.

I have too many secrets that can get you killed, Gareth said.

Nothing I haven’t already found.

Gareth shook Aaron’s hand, then laughed. You’ve got nothing, he said. You’re not strong enough to get past me.

No, I’m not, Aaron said.

Aaron’s voice said he was lying but Gareth’s instincts told him not to believe it.

Why’re you here, Gareth asked Conrad.

To see an old friend.

Gareth shook his head. You had no idea I was in Wildemarsh, and couldn’t know I was here, at the cemetery.

Conrad drew a deck of cards from his jacket. Do you know what these are?

Tarot deck? Gareth asked.

Conrad shook his head and looked at Aaron. Dickhead, isn’t he? Conrad splayed the deck, so Aaron could see the cards.

That’s a forbidden deck, Aaron said solemnly.

Forbidden for all but some special people, like us University Professors.

Alright, Gareth said. What else did they tell you?

Just that I’d find an old friend who I’d like to see. Conrad looked at the detectives. It was good meeting you, now if you’ll excuse me, I must go.

Go where? Gareth asked.

There’s an old friend here somewhere, Conrad said. One I’m going to like seeing. He put the cards in his pocket and strode away.

GARETH FOUND A PHONE booth some blocks from the cemetery. Calls to Tarenarla weren’t guaranteed to get through, something about a limited number of lines. He’d never get through if he never tried. This time he was lucky.

Hello? Britany’s voice crackled over the phone line.

Britany, it’s Gareth. How’re you doing?

We’re doing fine, she said. Rampu’s missing her mum and Tamin’s getting another tooth.

What about Serk?

She’s fine.

No tooth?

No.

How can Tamin get a tooth and Serk not? They’re twins. Aren’t they supposed to do these things the same?

Don’t know.

Gareth looked at the graffiti on the wall of the phone box. There were cryptic symbols among the scrawled profanities. Still haven’t told Rampu about her mother?

Brittany huffed. I can’t, she said. How do I tell a four-year-old that? there’s a letter from the school. It has a list of books that she’s going to need and opening hours for the uniform shop.

Uniform shop?

Yeah, where they sell school uniforms.

I know. Gareth huffed.

Rampu wants to talk to you.

No, don’t put—

Hello Daddy. It was the sweetest voice Gareth knew.

Hello Rampu, he said.

You coming soon?

Soon. You being good for Brit?

I’m good for Rit’ny.

That’s good sweetheart.

Is Mummy there?

No, she’s... she’s not here.

She shopping?

Something like that. How are your sisters? They good?

Serk is good. Tamin screams a lot. She’s naughty.

Is that what Brittany says?

No, Rit’ny says Tamin got tooth. I think Tamin naughty. I got tooths and I don’t scream.

They’re growing. Gareth sniffed. She’ll stop screaming once it’s grown.

Alright. Here.

She’s good, Britany said. When’re you coming home?

As soon as I can. Do you have everything you need?

We’re still alright. Mrs Charmers is helping and—

The line went dead.

Gareth stepped out of the phone booth and looked at the sky. Too fucking bright.

Chapter 2: Anastasia

Bereft Husband Vows Revenge on Police For Wife’s Killing.

ANASTASIA READ THE headline of the newspaper Ulysses had tossed onto the table in front of her. That’s old news, she said.

It’s an old assignment, he answered.

Anastasia glanced to the counter where Liberto was making their coffees. She liked the coffee shop almost as much as her handler liked it. Liberto told her it had an old-world charm, whatever the hell that meant. To her, it had the charm of a barista she liked who knew what she liked and seemed to like that too, which included his tastes in men. Liberto’s current love interest, the dark and mysterious Manfred, was gorgeous. It also seemed serious. Manfred was the first man she could recall staying with Liberto for so long. Was it nearly four years?

Are you going to answer me? Ulysses snapped.

Anastasia looked at the daunting figure sitting opposite her. You’ve been married to Fannie now for four years, isn’t it?

I don’t know. Ulysses shook his head impatiently. It’s been a while, now answer my question. What’re you going to do about him?

About whom?

It’s about who, and—

No, it’s whom.

"Who, whom? What the fuck are you going to do about him?"

Gareth? Anastasia asked.

Will you please find somebody to fuck you properly, so you can start thinking straight? You’re not fucking an incubus again, are you?

No. I’m not fucking anybody.

Then fix that. Now answer my fucking question.

You want him dead? Anastasia asked.

He’s killed you once. Ulysses snapped.

We nearly had him working for us.

There you go. Liberto smiled at her as he put the coffees on the table. Oh I remember hearing about that. He nodded to the newspaper on the table. Poor fellow.

It’s a terrible thing to be beside someone you love when she’s murdered, Anastasia said vacantly.

I can’t imagine.

How’re you and Manfred? Anastasia asked.

We’re good. Liberto smiled sadly. Having a rough time right now, but we’ll get through it.

Rough time like Antonio? Anastasia moved her coffee.

No. He doesn’t touch me, Liberto told her.

So long as you’re not being beaten, she said.

No, he doesn’t touch me at all. Liberto smiled and went back to his counter.

Trouble in paradise? Ulysses sipped his coffee.

I hope they work it out. He really likes Manfred.

Well, if it doesn’t then maybe you can use it to solve that other little problem. Ulysses put his coffee on the table.

What other problem?

You’re distraction.

Anastasia sighed and glared at Ulysses. I’ll find the Mission operative and talk to him.

Just talk?

Can we move on from my lack of sex?

I wasn’t referring to you fucking him, I was referring to you killing him.

We’ll talk first. Anastasia sipped her coffee. Then I’ll decide.

About killing or fucking?

Both, Anastasia said.

ANASTASIA LUGGED HER gym bag through the front door of the Challenger’s Fire Gymnasium. The dark-haired Jasper sat in his usual spot behind the counter.

Mister Hancock, Anastasia smiled and handed him her membership card.

Why the Mister? Jasper asked as he shook his head at the card. I know who you are.

I thought I’d extend to you the respect that many of your clients and staff neglect.

Bullshit Ani. What’s up? Jasper asked.

You getting those punching bags soon?

I miss her too, but it’s been five years.

Bags? Anastasia put her hands on her hips.

First two arrived a couple of days ago. I’ll get Tiffany to put one up for you.

I’ll help her. Anastasia went to the lockers and punched the combination into hers. She took her hand towel once her bag was inside it and turned to Jasper. Who’s Tiffany?

New girl, Jasper said.

Someone you’re interested in? Anastasia teased.

No, Jasper said. Someone more suitable for you than me. She’s in the change room.

Alright, Anastasia said, dreading what he might have meant by that remark.

She went into the women’s change room. Tiffany? she called.

What? A tall, brown-skinned woman wearing black leggings and a tight t-shirt came out of one of the shower recesses. She had black hair and deeply seductive brown eyes.

I’m here to help you put up the punching bags.

Oh really? Tiffany asked. And who’re you?

My name’s Anastasia and I’ve been coming to this gym for too long without punching bags. Jasper said two are here already and you’d need help putting them up.

I don’t need help. Tiffany walked back into the shower recess and returned with a bucket full of cleaning products. We only got two and Jasper doesn’t want them up until the other three come. Her eyes wandered over Anastasia. You must be someone special.

You clean showers in those clothes? Anastasia asked.

They’re my work clothes and this is my work, why? Do you want me to take them off?

No, Anastasia said. Some things are best left for the imagination, especially when we’ve just met. I’ll see you outside and help you carry the bags.

I can carry them myself, they’re only a hundred pounds.

Full size?

Tiffany nodded.

Then you can only carry one at a time, Anastasia told her.

You think you can lift and carry one?

Hundred pounds is only forty-five kilos. I can easily carry twice that.

You don’t look like you can.

What do you weigh? Eighty kilos?

I don’t know what a kilo is, Tiffany said.

You weigh about a hundred and seventy-five pounds?

Hundred and seventy. You saying you can carry me?

Want me to?

Tiffany shook her head. I think I’ll leave that for my imagination for now.

See you outside then. Anastasia went to the door. You can watch me carry a punch bag and imagine I’m doing it for you.

I’m married. Tiffany smiled and turned away.

Anastasia returned to the foyer to wait.

What did I tell you? Jasper asked.

Anastasia shook her head.

Well? he pressed.

I don’t believe she’s interested, and I don’t believe I’m interested. You know me well enough by now.

The punching bags went up without a problem. Tiffany was unimpressed with Anastasia’s ability to carry one of the bags but was quickly impressed by Anastasia’s ability to punish one. She’d never learned a so-called martial art, that wasn’t part of her training for the Service. Instead she’d been given an innate ability to inflict pain and damage upon human, and sometimes inhuman, bodies. Something about the way her arms and her legs and the whole of her body was tuned to... she didn’t know. Every time she tried to understand it, she failed.

Fuck it! She struck the bag with a combination of three punches, following it with a kick.

This was Pru’s gym. It always would be. Every time she tried to forget...

Punch, kick, elbow, knee punch.

What was she going to do about the Mission operative? What did Ulysses want her to do?

Punch, punch, knee elbow punch.

Where did you learn that? It was Pru’s voice. Ani was sure.

Punch punch punch, knee punch.

Damn! It was a man in the gym.

Punch kick knee elbow punch.

How dare he come back. What the fuck was he thinking? He had the woman he loved. They’d escaped to have their family. Why would he bring a woman he loved back to this shit hole where they die...

Punch punch punch kick punch punch kick elbow knee.

She bent over to catch her breath.

Where did you learn that? It wasn’t Pru.

Tiffany, isn’t it? Anastasia asked.

She nodded.

Come to dinner with me and I’ll tell you about it.

I don’t...

I’m not like that, Anastasia said. Bring your husband with you. All I want to do is have someone to talk with. Someone I may become friends with, or not. I don’t know.

Will you bring your partner with you? Tiffany asked.

Anastasia shook her head. I don’t have one, and I don’t want one. Not at this time and not someone from here. I just want a little company over a meal. I’ll pay.

Tiffany shook her head. No. I don’t know you and...

My name’s Anastasia, that’s a start. I’ll be eating at Jarvine’s Roasts at Devon Court at about six, maybe six-thirty, if you change your mind.

I won’t, Tiffany said. Invite me when you can introduce me to your partner.

I’ll find another one then.

What happened to your last one? Tiffany looked at the punching bag suspiciously.

Anastasia chuckled. He had priorities other than me. Family ones.

Was he married?

Kind of. Anastasia turned to the punching bag. His mother didn’t approve of me.

Punch, kick punch.

Chapter 3: Sweetcan Circle

THE TAXI STOPPED AT a milk bar on the edge of Sweetcan Circle. Wildemarsh had two red-light districts and Sweetcan Circle was the one most taxis wouldn’t to go near. Even those who would take the fare would ask three times the normal rate, and even then, they wouldn’t go into it.

The driver took his money and sped away.

They’d passed a place named the Red Wolf Pizzeria on the way. Gareth hoped it wasn’t Tyra’s. She never wanted anything but her brothel. If she was driven out of Sweetcan Circle then he didn’t know what he’d do.

He sighed and started up the road. He needed someplace to stay that had nothing to do with the Mission. He didn’t trust them. They’d offered him an apartment, but that was when Starkie was still alive. Now...

Even his last meeting with the Mission ended badly, although not as badly as his first meeting soon after their arrival. They found him in Tarenarla. They found him, Starkie, Marnie and Brittany, Rampu, Tamin and Serk. He didn’t want to come and certainly didn’t want Starkie to come, but they had five children to look after. No, not five. Marnie and Brittany had grown into young women. He was grateful they offered to look after the children. Now, they were his life. He couldn’t go back without knowing they’d be safe which meant... He didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t even know what he was doing.

The Mission needed to know he was in Wildemarsh, that was all. They might not need to know exactly where in Wildemarsh, but they needed to know he was there. If he tried to return to Tarenarla... well, a telegram travels faster than an airship, and even Alfred couldn’t stop a telegram being sent. They were his weakness and the Mission knew it.

The Red Wolf Gentleman’s Place of Pleasure was where it was when he left. He sighed with relief. The Pizzeria was a coincidence. He walked into the establishment.

A blue haired woman behind the main counter looked up from her romance pulp. We got six girls free at the moment, what do you prefer?

Free? Gareth asked.

Unoccupied. She rolled her eyes. It’s a hundred and eighty crowns an hour at this time and sixty crowns for each half hour after that.

I’ll have a couple of the sixty crown half hours then, Gareth