Two weeks later, and we were back at home, back to business as usual. Later today, Alan was going back up to Thunderbird Five to finish out his rotation. And Dad had put an announcement out that International Rescue was again available.
In the end, we hadn't stayed in Singapore. None of us felt like partying, and as soon as the doctor cleared me the next morning, we had all flown back to our home, each of us quiet with our own thoughts. Things were still quieter than usual around the villa. But we were getting better as time went on.
The explosion at the caretaker's shack barely got a mention in the local news, written off as an accident with stored gasoline cans. No mention was made of any dazed men wandering out to the shack, so I suppose the succubus' hold on them was broken with her death. At least we were able to save them.
I walked through the house in my swimming trunks and flip-flops, a towel around my neck. I came out onto the balcony above the pool, and I paused, looking down on the scene below. Scott was in the pool, with his arms folded up on the coping, talking to Alan, who sat idly splashing his feet in the water. Dad was off to the side, at an umbrella-shaded table, playing cribbage with Virgil. And John was kicked back on a chaise lounge, chatting amiably with Grandma.
It was hard to look at the scene and not feel a surge of affection. My family meant the world to me, all the more so after our run-in with the succubus. I moved off the balcony down to the pool, tossing my towel on a lounger, and slipping out of my flip-flops.
I came up to the pool's edge and gripped with my toes, then dove in. I stroked the length of the pool, pushing aside the niggling question that turned the water cold around me… could beings like her be killed? And even if they could, was she the last of her kind...or were there more, somewhere out there..?
The End.