Acquainted With the Night
"Incubus" Part 2
By Shawna
A/N: My thanks to evilspoofauthor1Sven for informing me of an apparent interview in which Stephen Sommers said that the character in the movie is in fact Abraham Van Helsing's younger brother, Gabriel. While one part of me screams "What nonsense!" another part goes with it, because I like the name Gabriel better. X3 Also, I saw the "Van Helsing: The London Assignment" animated prequel, which was actually pretty cool, and Van Helsing introduces himself as Gabriel in it. So yeah. Gabriel it is, then.
Watching the moon rise to its zenith, and then begin to melt back towards the horizon made Van Helsing acutely aware of the night bleeding past him, with no sign of either of the demons. He was sitting in the cleft of two branches in a tree by the house the girls were in, giving himself a good line of sight should anything come towards the house. He wondered if perhaps neither of the demons would show, if maybe they were even afraid of him. It was perfectly possible that demons were as aware of him as were the humans. Perfectly possible that they were afraid.
Don't flatter yourself, Gabriel, he thought. Don't get too confident.
Letting himself get too cocky would lower his awareness, and this he could not afford. He always made sure he kept his emotional distance from the people involved with all of his cases, but that did not mean he liked to see any of them hurt or killed. All of the girls in the house were people; all of them had others who loved them. He did not want to see any of them lost to the Incubus. Death from an Incubi or Succubae was one of the worst ways to go, he knew. A woman impregnated by an Incubus would give birth only a week or two later, and she would die bearing the child. Human women always gave birth to little Incubi, who, though small at birth, had the sharp fangs and claws of their adult forms and were dangerous and fully capable of caring for themselves. A man who slept with a Succubus would pant his last breath as soon as he climaxed, and as of yet, no one could account for why this was so. Most believed that the Succubae were poisoned on the inside and any human coming into contact with this would be killed by it. But none knew for sure, it was just the way things were. Just as with human women, the incubation period was normally about ten days, and then the Succubus would give birth to a little Succubus, who would grow to adult form in under a year and begin the process again. Considering their amazing proliferation rate, it would seem to be a wonder that their race was struggling so, but people had become acutely aware of these demons and there was no special trick to killing them. An arrow through the heart, a sword through the gut, anything that would kill a man would kill an Incubus or Succubus. People learned this quickly and made effective use of it.
Something moved in the tree behind him. He heard a branch crack, and a second later his dagger was in his hand and he had whirled around. Fog crept among the branches; an owl that had been perched in the tree took to the air with a frightened squawk. Nothing more. Had he just heard the owl landing?
Before he could even dismiss this thought, a boot came out of the darkness, sailing towards his face, and he moved to dodge but was not quick enough and the kick hit him hard, sending him flying out of the tree. Even as his back was rushing towards the ground, his hands were throwing his dagger at the flit of movement he saw in the tree, but obviously flying backwards and down was not conducive to good aiming and he heard the knife sink into the trunk of the tree and high-pitched laughter filled the air.
He hit the ground hard, knocking all of the wind out of his lungs. He gasped for air, struggled to sit up and get his other dagger out of his boot. Before he could do so, a weight dropped onto his chest, and he gasped again. Normally, this weight would not have affected him at all, but having just had his breath knocked out of him, a weight on his chest was the last thing he needed.
"Relax, Van Helsing." The voice that spoke was silky-smooth and certainly female, and Van Helsing found himself staring up at the corset-clad torso of a fair-skinned, blonde-haired Succubus. She was immediately recognizable as such due to the presence of two curved horns emerging from the top of her head, as well as the pair of maroon-colored bat wings that sprouted from her back. Her fair hair was voluminous, and fell just past her shoulders; her purple eyes glittered as she looked down at him. Her breasts were large, and thinly veiled by a gossamer shirt. Below her waist she wore only black panties with pink ribbons and stockings which, of course, were in plain sight. In spite of himself, Van Helsing felt a stirring low in his stomach, and it would seem the Succubus was aware of his feelings, for a smile slowly suffused her face and she licked her coral lips, pressing her hands against his chest as she slid herself lower on his body, to just below his waist, but still slightly above his burgeoning erection.
"Shall I move lower?" She asked suggestively, her fingers caressing his chest, undoing the clasps on his shirt. "I want to. Don't you want me to?"
He reached up and gripped her shoulders and her eyes went wide with excitement as he flipped her off of him, pushing her onto her back beside him and rolling over on top of her. She writhed beneath him, laughing.
"Oh, I like it rough." Her voice was full of lust. "Are you going to be rough with me Gabriel?"
"Quite rough," he said, his hand going surreptitiously to his boot and withdrawing his other dagger. The creature beneath him was beautiful, unearthly, exotic, but evil. She wanted to have sex with him, but only to kill him and then further her species. She looked young, like a human girl of seventeen or eighteen years, but was probably much older. Death was what he would give her.
"Gabriel," she said tenderly. "You're gorgeous, Gabriel." She reached up, placing a hand on either side of his face, running one of her thumbs across his bottom lip. He looked down into her eyes and it hit him: gorgeous, she was gorgeous. Her purple eyes were bright, clear, sparkling; her lips pinkish red and moist and appealing; her breasts were perfectly round, rising and falling gently with her breath; her skin was alabaster in the moonlight. Slackly parted, her lips were like an invitation to ecstasy; to passion and desire and every fantasy he had ever had. She was getting closer to him, she was sitting up, he thought, and then realized she was drawing him down and he was letting her. Suddenly, her lips were so close to his, he could feel her warm breath. Those ethereal purple eyes were staring right into his, dancing with lust and excitement, urging him forward, telling him, just with their look, that she wanted him, had to have him; telling him to take her.
To his surprise, it was he who closed the gap between their lips. Her warm breath, her beckoning eyes, the curves of her body beneath him; it was all too much and he had to catch her lips with his own. Almost immediately, he pressed his tongue into her mouth and was delighted with the sweet taste, the satiny smoothness of her. Her breasts were soft and inviting under his chest, he lifted himself up on one elbow to give his other hand access to them. Her mouth broke from his; she was moaning as he cupped her breast and teased her nipple hard with his thumb. He moved his mouth down to her silky neck, running his tongue along the bottom of her jaw line, reveling in the perfection of her skin.
But something was not right. As soon as he realized this, he also realized what it was. Their eyes had never broken contact, even as he moved his head down towards her neck, he was still looking up into her eyes, she was looking down at him. Her beautiful purple eyes, staring down at him, wanting him, submitting to him. This was the problem. Van Helsing closed his eyes.
Revulsion rushed up in his stomach, complete disgust and not with the creature below him, who he still acknowledged was beautiful, but with himself, for falling for her mind tricks, for staring into her eyes for so long and letting her drip the idea of her beauty and perfection right into his mind. The reality of what she was and the danger she posed had been swept away by her beautiful lies. She had drawn him in, ensnared him, however briefly, and this fact made him feel slightly sick.
At some point he had dropped his dagger, he did not remember doing it now, but one of his hands was holding him up and the other was caressing the Succubus's breast and his dagger was nowhere to be found. Somewhat reluctantly, despite her hold on him being broken, he removed his hand from her breast and lowered himself back down onto her.
"Gabriel?" Her voice was innocently questioning, still lustful. "Why aren't you looking at me? Don't you think I'm beautiful? Look at me, Gabriel."
So convincing, so desperate was her voice that he almost did look back at her, but just as he considered doing this, his searching hand found the hilt of his dagger on the ground beside them and he gripped it firmly and rediscovered his resolution. He took a deep breath, prepared to drive the dagger into the beautifully wicked being underneath him.
"Van Helsing!"
This was Elisabeth's voice; it came from inside the house and was definitely in a panic.
The Succubus screeched, her purple eyes blazing and before he could finish his intent with the dagger, she had gripped him beneath the arms and tossed him off of her with the unearthly strength of the demon she was. Like a cat, she sprang to her feet and broke into a run, trying to give lift to her flapping wings. Van Helsing drew his crossbow, took aim, and let an arrow fly, but the Succubus took to the air and dodged, flying straight up, and shortly disappearing into the night sky with a frustrated shriek.
"Van Helsing!" Elisabeth screamed again and he bolted into the house, readying another arrow as he crashed through the door.
Elisabeth let out another screech when he burst in, pointing an arrow at her head. Instinctively, she ducked, cowering in a corner of the room. Besides her, the room was silent and empty.
"What's the problem?" He demanded, and then it hit him: the room was empty. That was the problem. Emilie and Relena were not there. Elisabeth spoke, echoing his thoughts.
"Relena and Emilie are gone! I was asleep, right here," she motioned to one of the three cots that had been brought into the room for the girls to sleep on, "and when I woke up just now, they were gone! I heard nothing! The Incubus must have taken them!" She was in a near panic, and Van Helsing returned his bow to its place on his back, and approached her with his palms up.
"Elisabeth, it's all right," he said, trying to speak soothingly as he reached her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'll go right now and look for them."
"No!" Tears were coursing down her cheeks now. "The Incubus has probably already defiled both of them! If you find them now, you'll have no choice but to kill them! They'll both have to die!"
Van Helsing said nothing, instead drawing Elisabeth against him in an awkward embrace, trying to comfort her. Relena walked nonchalantly in through the back door. Elisabeth's mouth fell open and Van Helsing could only stare.
"What?" She asked innocently, and then suddenly she was smothered by Elisabeth.
"Thank God!" Elisabeth sobbed. "I thought the Incubus had taken you and Emilie! Thank God you're all right!"
"Where were you?" Van Helsing asked sternly. "I told you not to leave this room."
"Oh," a light blush settled onto Relena's cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Monsieur, but I had to, er, powder my nose… you understand…"
He rolled his eyes and decided to ignore what she had said. "Was Emilie with you?"
Relena's eyes went to the empty middle cot. "She was here asleep when I left, just a few minutes ago."
"Well, she's gone now!" Elisabeth cried needlessly, still looking on the brink of tears.
"Where did she go?" Relena asked innocently, and Van Helsing had the urge to slap his hand to his forehead.
"We don't know," he said through gritted teeth, forcing himself to keep his patience with the child-like Relena. "We were hoping you did, but since you don't, I would think something took her."
"Something?" Relena's voice was fearful. "You mean the Incubus?"
"Yes," Van Helsing replied simply. "I'm going to go look for her, you two go back to the church and find Father Mounette."
"What if the Incubus comes for us?" Elisabeth demanded. "What then? And what about the Succubus? What if she's currently getting herself pregnant with one of the men in town?"
"She's not."
"How do you know?" Relena asked thoughtfully.
Answering would incriminate him in some way, so instead of doing that, Van Helsing turned on his heel and left the house. "Go to the church," he called over his shoulder, taking his crossbow off his back again.
"Van Helsing!" Elisabeth called harshly to him, running to catch up with his quick stride. "Van Helsing, wait! Don't leave us alone!"
He whirled on Elisabeth, startling her, causing her to almost fall over backwards. "Shall I let Emilie die then? Shall I just forget about her and not look for her? Shall we wait for her to stumble back into town, ready to give birth to a monster?"
Elisabeth bit her lip and did not respond, averting her gaze from his. He turned around again, striding quickly down onto the nearby beach, for some reason feeling this would be a good place to start looking. He whispered a quick prayer that he would be on time to save Emilie.
The waves crashed on the rocky beach, roaring gently in the early morning air. The sun was just beginning to touch the eastern horizon, casting gray-pink light across the sky, giving the world a very clean, new appearance, but Van Helsing somehow knew he was going to find something he did not want to see in this beautiful, fresh morning light.
"Emilie?" He called. "Emilie!"
Something was flitting on a large, sharp-edged beach rock, unveiled by the low tide. Something fiery red. Drawing closer to it he could see it was a shred of the vibrantly colored dress Emilie had been wearing. A lead weight seemed to drop into Van Helsing's stomach; a heavy and suffocating fear that he was probably too late.
This is your fault.
This thought came into his head suddenly and made him feel sick, for it was the truth. While he had been playing with the Succubus, the Incubus had slipped past him and taken one of the girls who was supposed to be under his care. Anything that happened to her was his fault and his responsibility. He cursed himself for a fool, for half a man for allowing himself to be so easily drawn into a demon's wiles, and at the same time said another prayer in his mind that he might find Emilie all right, as unlikely as that seemed now.
He rounded a corner on the beach, moving around an outcropping of rocks, and was confronted with what he had been desperately hoping not to see. Emilie was lying naked on her back on the sand, her breasts heaving, her legs wrapped tightly around the waist of a black-haired, winged figure crouched between her legs, pumping into her furiously. She was crying out in sheer ecstasy, her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open. Her fingers dug into the earth as the Incubus atop her groaned, shuddering all over, and Van Helsing knew he was too late to save her.
"Emilie!" He cried, not knowing how else to interrupt the scene before him. Her eyes opened, and she looked at him with a drunken smile and waved. The Incubus darted back, away from her, his blazing red eyes regarding Van Helsing with a mix of malice and triumph.
"You're too late, monster slayer," the Incubus said, his voice low and sultry, his thick black hair bouncing around his face. "I've filled her with my seed."
Enraged, Van Helsing raised his crossbow and fired and the Incubus barely had time to roll out of the way. His roll set him into a crouch, and from there he snarled and lunged at Van Helsing, claws sprouting from his fingertips. Van Helsing stepped back, braced for the impact even as he caught hold of the Incubus's wrists, keeping the talons just inches from his face. The creature growled, bent its knees, and then lifted its arms hard, taking Van Helsing off the ground and flipping him over the Incubus's back. He hit the ground hard and immediately rolled to his feet, his dagger drawn and ready and then it was he who lunged, but the Incubus used his own technique against him and caught him by the wrists to hold him back.
"It is not yet time to kill you, Gabriel," the demon said, drawing Van Helsing closer to him. "You still have something that I want." His breath fanned across Van Helsing's face, and it smelled at the same time sweet and fetid. The creature pressed its body against Gabriel's, and this took him by surprise and he tried to pull back, but could not for the demon's vice-like grip. The sweet, dank breath floated over his face again and then the demon's thin, faintly forked tongue traced along the bottom of his jaw-line and he shuddered all over.
"We'll meet again," the Incubus whispered, brushing his lips against Van Helsing's ear. Then he threw him violently down, and Gabriel found himself on his back on the ground for the third time in the past hour, with a demon disappearing into the sky above him.
"Isn't he wonderful?"
Van Helsing turned towards this voice, to see Emilie still lying on her back in the sand, apparently unashamed of her nakedness and obviously not in complete possession of her senses. With a stroke of anguish, Van Helsing realized what he would have to do.
"Yes," he agreed softly, sitting up and sliding towards her. "Yes, wonderful." His dagger was still clutched in his hand.
"Why don't you make love to me now, too?" She asked with a giggle. "I wanted you to, you know."
"Yes, I know," he said, gripping his dagger firmly. "Forgive me, Emilie."
She was still smiling her drunken smile. "For what?"
It was a swift motion. One moment he was sitting up beside her on the beach, and the next he had buried his dagger to the hilt in her chest. Her back arched, she coughed and blood oozed out of her mouth. Agony filled her eyes, tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Wh-why?" She choked, but before he could answer, if indeed he had tried to answer, her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed back onto the sand, her last breath leaving her. Van Helsing crossed himself and willed her soul to God.
Father Mounette was waiting for him back in town, and when he saw the coat-less Van Helsing, carrying a form wrapped in said garment, his face fell. He crossed himself and walked solemnly to meet Van Helsing.
"You were not in time to save Emilie, then?" The Father asked softly.
"No," Van Helsing replied simply. "Father, I-"
"No explanation is needed, dear boy," Father Mounette said. "I just appreciate your efforts. Please, take the body into the church so we might prepare it for a proper burial."
Wordlessly, Van Helsing did as requested.
The late afternoon found him back in his dismal room in the church, lying wide-awake on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had been in this position since that morning, after giving the body of Emilie to Relena to prepare for a funeral. He could not stop blaming himself for what had happened to her, for getting distracted by the Succubus. He had a chance to kill each of the demons and had failed to do so both times, costing the life of Emilie and likely more lives that night, unless he could put aside what happened and not make the same mistakes twice.
I don't make the same mistakes twice, he thought. Tonight, nothing will stop me. I will kill those demons and make sure no one else has to die for my shortcomings.
This was certainly not the first time someone had been killed by a creature he was hunting, but it had the same affect as the first time. It never got any easier to feel responsible for the death of a fellow human being; never got easier to know that had he been just slightly faster or stronger or whatever, he could have saved a life or lives. He must get stronger, he must get faster and better and what he was supposed to do. He could not keep allowing people to die on his watch.
"Monsieur?"
In his contemplation, he had not even heard the door open, and now he turned, a bit startled, to see Relena standing in his doorway, looking at him shyly. The candlelight was more flattering on her than had been the dull sunlight that had been shining the first time he saw her. Her black dress was rather loose and unbecoming and yet there were hints of a beautiful body beneath it. A few wisps of her blonde hair stuck out from under the adornment on her head, the typical headdress of a woman of God.
"Come in, Relena," he said softly.
She did so, closing the door behind her, which struck him as slightly odd but he dismissed it as nothing. In her hands were a lightly steaming bowl and a wooden cup filled with what could only be plain water.
"I thought you might be hungry, Monsieur, so I brought you some soup and a drink. It will be getting dark soon; I imagine you'll need your strength…"
"Yes, thank you, Relena," he said, sitting up to accept the bowl and cup. He expected her to leave when he had taken these things, but instead she merely stood beside his bed, watching him expectantly.
He cleared his throat. "You can sit if you're going to be staying a while," he said, motioning to the other side of the bed. To his surprise, she seated herself right next to him, her legs almost touching his.
"Monsieur, I wanted to make sure you were not blaming yourself for what happened. I'm sure you did nothing wrong, and I know you tried your best to save her…"
"I did do something wrong," he said, setting the bowl and cup down on the small desk, having barely touched the contents of either but having no appetite. "I did something very wrong and it might have been what caused Emilie's death."
Relena raised her eyebrows questioningly but said nothing, asked nothing of him. This was a refreshing surprise, as he knew most people would demand an answer after a comment like his, would demand an answer and a reason to blame him. Relena was seeking neither of these things.
"Monsieur," she said softly, placing a hand on his face and turning him to face her. "I think you're very brave and I thank you very much for being here. Don't blame yourself at all for what happened."
Her words were so comforting, her touch was so cool and soft. She was so very close to him. He wanted to feel better, needed something to comfort himself.
This is a woman of God, he reminded himself. A virgin, a nun. Don't disgrace God by defiling one of His subjects.
Her pale coral lips were so close. His eyes searched hers, looking for resistance, but finding only apprehension but also, an eagerness. He leaned forward very slowly, she leaned back slightly but not quickly enough to stop him from pressing his lips gently to hers. She went tense all over but did not pull back any further or try to push him away. He trailed one of his hands up her arm, slid it along her neck and cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her head back as he leaned in closer to her. He traced the line between her tightly closed lips with his tongue, coaxing her to open her mouth to him. Hesitantly, she did so, moaning a bit as he slipped his tongue into her warm, smooth mouth. She tasted sweet, familiar…
She broke her mouth from his. "Oh, Monsieur," she looked on the verge of tears. "Oh, oh, I shouldn't Monsieur-"
Van Helsing took his hands off of her, held them up palms out. "You're right," he said, going against all his carnal instincts. "You should go, Relena. You're absolutely free to go."
She stared at him, her dull-colored eyes shining brightly, brimming with tears. Neither of them spoke; she breathed in slowly, out huskily. She licked her lips.
"Oh, God forgive me," she said, and then threw her arms around Gabriel and pressed her lips back to his.
-edit-
For a few moments, he lay limply atop her, a pleasant satisfied feeling filling him. He held his breath for a few seconds. To his surprise, Relena gripped one of his shoulders and rolled him easily off of her, and he caught a quick glimpse of her face, and she was sporting a very self-satisfied smile. She turned, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and reached for her dress, beginning to get back into it as though nothing had just occurred.
"Relena?" He asked softly.
She had been in the middle of re-lacing her dress, but froze upon hearing his voice. Slowly, somehow almost fearfully, she looked over her shoulder at him.
"V-Van Helsing?" She stammered, obviously alarmed by something.
"Relena, are you all right?"
She let out a scream and flew off the bed, her back hitting the closed door as she stared at him in apparent fear. Her eyes were wide and wild, her nails biting into the door's wood. Van Helsing was completely bewildered by her behavior, but slowly it struck him: she must be realizing what she had done, she had been caught in the moment and now she was back in reality and horrified with him and herself.
This seemed to be the case, for she slid off the door, keeping her back against the wall, opened it, and disappeared into the hall. Her rapid footsteps receded down the corridor.
Van Helsing pressed his hands to his face, guilt crashing over him. What had he done? The silver crucifix he had torn from Relena's neck glinted in the candlelight from its position on the floor, mocking him. What had he done?
A/N: If you're of age, you can view the unedited version of the story by going to adultfanfiction.net. A link to my work can be found in my profile.
To be continued…