A Ride of Peril (A Shade of Vampire #46)(36)

I made it into the clearing and found twelve young succubi gathered around a small fire. The smudges of red war paint and torn leather garments helped me identify them as survivors of the Red Tribe. My heart leapt with joy as I realized that there were indeed sisters of Hansa and Anjani who had survived the massacre.

Two of them were extremely young, most likely in their teens. They were cuddled up beneath a thick fur, warming up by the fire as they slept. The others were adults, probably the same age as Anjani, judging by the similar attire. From what Jovi had told me, the succubi tended to dress their age. The older they got, the more weapons and metals they wore on their bodies. Which made sense based on the two succubi I knew personally. Anjani had a few strips of leather wrapped around her body, while Hansa favored silver chest and shin plates, leather pants, and the red cape.

These creatures were dressed like Anjani in different shades of brown and black leather with silver knives dangling from their belts. They looked tired. Their eyes shimmered with tears, as they roasted small animals on the fire. Their expressions told of defeat and grief, and they slowly chewed their food and drank from their water bladders.

“Do you think anyone else survived?” one of the succubi asked, picking pieces of meat from her teeth with the tip of her blade.

“I have a hard time believing that, Olia,” said another, poking the fire with a stick. “We barely made it out of there in one piece.”

A third one sniffed and wiped tears away with the back of her hand.

“Perra, what about Hansa?” the third asked the second succubus.

“She’s probably back by now. She’s probably seen it all. She’s feeling what we’re all feeling, maybe worse, since she raised most of us,” Perra replied.

“Should we go there?” Olia asked.

“It’s too soon, too risky. We have the children with us. We have to be smart about this,” Perra said. “Adisa, do we have any prayer dust left?”

The third succubus nodded and started digging through her satchel, while a fourth stood up, visibly angry with her hands at her sides, balled into tight fists. My heart bled for them, but I couldn’t do anything. I was merely a formless viewer.

“We can’t just stay here!” the fourth growled, pacing around the camp fire.

“We have no other choice, Striga!” Olia replied, barely holding it together.

“So, what do we do? Just wait here around the fire and enjoy the starry night sky while our sisters burn?” Striga shot back.

“Look at us!” Olia raised her voice. “This is all we have left! Us, Hansa, and Anjani! We have to be patient, we have to hold on, and we have to protect the children. They’re all we have left! We are all we have left!”

Striga roared and shoved her sword into the ground, succumbing to fury. Then she fell to her knees, choked up, and let tears stream down her cheeks.

Perra stood up and moved toward Striga to comfort her. She kneeled and took the grieving succubus in her arms, whispering in her ear.

Adisa pulled a small pouch from her satchel and handed it to Olia, who untied its string and motioned for the succubi to get closer to the fire. Perra managed to bring Striga back. They both sat down with glazed eyes and trembling lips.

“What will prayers do?” Striga moaned, rubbing her face.

“It’s all we have right now,” Olia replied. “Hansa may or may not be back, and we need to reach out to the Daughters. They need to see this. They need to feel what we feel. Maybe they’ll show mercy and intervene.”

“Oh, please, they’ve not cared for this world in a very long time! If they did, Azazel wouldn’t be slaughtering our sisters like this!” Striga hissed.

“We have to pray! Now, shut up and join hands! We might as well try. It won’t kill us!”

Olia sat with her back straight as the succubi grasped hands around the fire. She closed her eyes, pouch in her hands. The flames threw amber reflections against her shimmering skin, and I watched with fascination as they recited a prayer directed at the Daughters of Eritopia. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them, already aware of how cruel and careless the goddesses really were.

“Hear our prayer, Daughters of this world,” Olia started. “We are your subjects, your faithful servants, your daughters of the Northern Mountain. Hear our prayer, as we ask for your mercy, your compassion, your love, and your wrath.”

“We are dying, Daughters of this world,” Adisa continued. “The darkness is spreading, the poison is turning peaceful creatures into monsters.”

“The blood of innocents flows in rivers as the monster laughs and kills everything good and kind,” Perra added. “We beg you, Daughters…”

“Listen to our pleas,” Striga mumbled. “We sit here, mourning our mothers, our sisters, and our daughters. Listen to our pleas…”

“The darkness forgives nothing. It hates. It kills. It destroys. It soils the pristine fields of Eritopia with misery and greed,” another succubus chimed in.

“Eritopia is dying, Daughters… We are dying… Show mercy. Look down upon us and feel what we feel. See what we see…”

“Eritopia is yours, and you are of Eritopia… We beg you, show mercy and save us…”

“Eritopia is dying, this world is dying, we are all dying…”