Soul Sucker
Home Base

Frances Dortmund’s POV

One Wynkoop Plaza, Denver, Colorado

Saturday, August 6, 2022

The residential parking garage gate recognized the transceiver in the window of my Indian motorcycle, and the gate lifted before I came to a halt. I drove down the ramp into the underground parking area for motorcycles near the elevators. I removed my helmet and shook out my long, blond hair. The curvy, black-haired waitress was no more. Once I left South Dakota, I shapeshifted into a lean, athletic Swedish woman in her early thirties. My light-blue eyes and delicate features looked around and found the floor empty. Still, cameras monitored almost everywhere these days.

After the six-plus-hour ride south from Sturgis, it took me a few minutes to bag up everything from the saddlebags. I had to swipe my resident badge to enter the lift and again to access my floor. In preparation for my next mark, I purchased the entire floor last month for just over four million dollars. The luxury condominium had three bedrooms, 360-degree views of the city, and an obstructed view of Coors Field nearby. The nearby entertainment and shopping made perfect camouflage for an investor who picked Denver for its outdoor activities and social life.

Exiting onto the seventh floor led into the foyer of my condominium, I dropped my bags on the reclaimed pine floor and smiled. The security system automatically alerted my system when any vehicle linked to my unit entered or exited the garage. My long-time confidant was walking out of the kitchen to meet me. “Welcome home, Mom,” Lana said with a big smile.

My sudden appearance didn’t faze her a bit. I hadn’t called to warn her because I didn’t want to leave any extra traces of my time in Sturgis. I’d slept on the ground outside town to avoid a hotel room, paid cash for gas and food, and pocketed only cash tips. I didn’t even carry a phone since there were too many ways for the surveillance state to track someone. The driver’s license and social security numbers I used on my job application were fakes. There was enough to withstand some scrutiny, and beyond that was a black hole.

I smiled and held my arms out, and she slid into them for a hug. “Your trip was successful?”

“Yes, it went without issue, and the Master is happy for another few weeks. We’ll monitor the investigation until it is closed to a natural death.” If Todd’s friends told the police he was flirting with me that night, even if he bragged he was taking me home, so what? The bar took on nearly a hundred temporary employees during the rally, and a handful of servers often quit after the first day. Not everyone could handle the kind of crowd that showed up for it. Raven was a ghost, one identity among dozens I maintained in my office safe until needed again.

One curse of my existence was how I had to move frequently and maintain multiple identities. Now that I was in Denver, Ingrid Andersen was home. “Lana, you need to get used to calling me Ingrid. We will be entertaining guests soon.” One slip could create suspicion.

“Of course, Ingrid.”

“Thank you, Lana.” My assistant had come a long way from the skinny, malnourished ten-year-old prostitute I’d found after killing her pimp in Bucharest. She’d blossomed as my adopted daughter, growing into a statuesque five-foot-ten woman with strawberry-blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and an ass that could stop traffic. She wasn’t just a pretty face; she was a lawyer with a Masters in International Finance. She oversaw my finances, including the maze of shell corporations that allowed me to shift assets around. At thirty-eight, she’d proved her worth over and over. “I’ve readied the hot tub for you. Lunch will be ready in forty minutes.”

I nodded, looking forward to easing the aches from the long ride. “Is Lonnie home?”

Lonnie was her twin brother. The two were kidnapped in rural Ukraine and sex trafficked to Eastern Europe, where he suffered in the same brothel until his rescue. “He is meeting a contact at the university and will return in a few hours.”

Lonnie was in charge of investigations and backgrounds. I could change my appearance at will, but I needed paperwork and history to back it up. In previous centuries, you just moved somewhere new.

With government databases and the Internet, it was much more complicated these days. Lonnie would build my identities from the ground up, starting with a birth certificate from a child that died soon after birth. He would spend decades building that legend; school records, a driver’s license, college degrees, passports, bank accounts, and employment history. They got grades, paid taxes, and owned assets. When it was time to pose for pictures or take a driving test, Lonnie would set it up, and I’d shapeshift into the woman needed. Raven was one of over a hundred I could choose from, each capable of withstanding anything short of a full FBI background check. Lonnie would create four to eight new identities a year, and keeping them ready for me was a big job.

I’d spent the week before Sturgis traveling to ten cities, updating identities as needed. I was tired, having been up since noon on Friday. “I’ll talk to him after I sleep.” Lana took my jacket and chaps from me, then removed my motorcycle boots. She took my things to the laundry room as I walked to the primary bedroom suite.

I took a quick shower to rinse the road dirt off, then walked naked down the hall to the enclosed patio area facing north. I turned on my music, picked up the glass of wine Lana left for me, and stepped into the roiling tub. Damn, I loved the feeling of the jets on my back after a long ride! I moved around, letting the waters relax my muscles as I sipped the wine.

I closed my eyes and thought back to my latest victim. I felt no guilt or remorse over killing him; I’d lost that in my first century as a succubus. I gave that man less sympathy than the steer that provided the steak Lana would be searing in a cast-iron pan for me. After all, the steer had done nothing wrong; he’d followed another steer through the chute, and BAM! Dead. Ending the lives of evil men was a job I couldn’t quit, so I made the best of it. Master allowed me the freedom to choose the victims, and I could sense their souls to replace the evil ones.

I am a succubus, purpose-built to seduce and fuck. I gave my victims the best and last sex of their lives, taking as much enjoyment out of the act as I could before Master took over. My sense of smell was far more sensitive than a human’s, close to that of a wolf. It allowed me to track down victims and sense their emotions.

And I had to hunt. Master was required to consume souls regularly to remain on the mortal plane. As a demon, he was unable to interact directly with mortals. When I invited him inside me, I thought it would be a partnership. Instead, I became the puppet on the string he could use to fill his needs. I’d fuck them to death, and Master would eat their souls.

For over a millennium, we’d kept each other alive. In biology, this is called a symbiotic relationship. A sea anemone traps and poisons fish for food, but the clownfish is immune and replaces protection among the tentacles. In return, the brightly colored fish attracts other fish.

I didn’t want to be his puppet, but there was no escaping Master. He was deep in my head, knowing all my thoughts and intentions. Disobedience meant pain, and refusal was useless. Master could take over my body if he needed. All the freedoms I had existed between his feedings. As long as I kept him sated, I could do anything else with my life.

Life sucked, but it sucked less with money. I have centuries of knowledge in my head, but that didn’t mean life was easy. Until recently, women were property, and I refused to let a man own me. It didn’t help my sexual charisma attracted males like flies to shit. I used my abilities to carve my way through life by following a simple plan.

Identify a wealthy man.

Make him fall in love and marry you.

Feed him to Master shortly after becoming his wife.

Move away as his grieving widow.

Change my name and appearance and start over.

I’d followed this plan through the years. I’d used it on thousands of men in Europe, Asia, Australia, and the Americas. I couldn’t marry a new man every month, and the process took time. The ‘money’ kills were a year or two apart. ‘Opportunity’ kills like Todd filled the time in between, ideally happening in other cities to avoid raising suspicions near my residence. Serial killers kill dozens, maybe even hundreds, in their sick lives.

I’d tallied over a hundred thousand victims.

“Ingrid, your lunch is ready,” Lana said from the doorway. She held out a soft robe and slippers for me.

“Thank you,” I said. I followed Lana to the kitchen, taking a seat on the island. She’d prepared steak and mashed potatoes with steamed broccoli, one of my favorite meals. “Any problems while I was gone?”

“None at all,” Lana replied. “Lonnie has been populating the file on Landon Street and updating your identities. I’ve been moving money around from our last mark.”

“Did the life insurance pay off?” I’d talked him into taking out a ten-million-dollar policy a month before we married.

“Not yet,” she replied. “They have sixty days to pay up. I’ve converted the liquid assets and placed the property up for sale. I moved the proceeds offshore and transferred them into different shell corporations. Next year, we’ll move your identity offshore, and she disappears.”

“Any investigations into my late husband’s tragic death?”

“The autopsy was clean, so we’re good.”

I barely stayed awake through lunch. “I’m heading for bed. We’ll meet in the morning.”

“It’s good to have you home, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, Lana. Take a little time to enjoy the summer night.” I kissed her forehead, then walked to my bedroom. I loved my son and daughter with all my heart, but they were mortal. They would eventually grow old and die, leaving me alone yet again.

Well, except for the demon I couldn’t escape from.