Chapter 152: Heart of Ice.
The third event was over. Loot had been divvied up, and plans were made to meet back up later in the day. Everyone wanted the chance to head home and stow away their gains. Some wanted to rest or settle in before doing anything else.
I wasn’t any different.
The third event had been grueling. Just being back here, in Purgatory, felt surreal. Wrong. Only amplified by my own poor condition.
That last fight had taken a lot out of us. Fighting the elder, had required everything from us and more. Even after being healed up, my thoughts felt, stilted. Everything felt dull. Distant.
I felt like I was underwater. Sounds echoed, colors blurred. I wasn’t in good shape. Not at all. Still, I made a point to stop at my warehouse, somehow managing to drive safely there and drop off my gains.
I greeted Talia and Shi, both of whom seemed unchanged. Then again, for them it had only been one night. For me? It had been months. Talia didn’t keep me, sensing something was awry. But didn’t offer to take me, and well, it wasn’t like she had a license or even knew how to drive.
Something that needs to be fixed.
By some miracle, I made it to the hospital and meandered in. It didn’t take long, or so it felt, before I was brought to a room where I met my doctor. She was dressed scandalously as always. Her coat was open, exposing a corset, her stomach bare. Red heels, and a miniskirt. Her legs were crossed, red lips pursed as she perused documents.
On my entry, she gave me a single glance. “I can see why you checked in.” She said, sensing what was wrong. “Take a seat.” She commanded and I did so.
She checked me over, and really, it felt unnecessary, but I didn’t complain. In the end, the diagnosis was about what I figured.
“Physically, you’re fine.” She said. “The issue is, you’ve taken serious soul damage. Unfortunately, I can’t deal with that. Fortunately, we do have people capable of doing so inside this hospital. In fact, if you have time, I can schedule you a session with her now.”
“That would be good…” I answered after taking the time to process what she said. “Where will I need to go?”
“Nowhere far, just a floor lower. I’ll give you the room number, it won’t take long, promise.”
I nodded along as she gave me the information, along with a signed document.
“Just present that at the desk.” She said and left.
I didn’t think too much. Really, I wasn’t exactly in the state to think too much. Instead, I just followed directions and when I arrived, well, it wasn’t anything unexpected.
A simple waiting room greeted me. A few people, young and old, were sitting about, reading magazines. Nothing about this area seemed off. The nurses managing the desk were, as odd as it sounds, properly dressed. Professionally dressed even, and their attitudes matched.
I presented the signed document; all to hurry up and wait. I settled into a nearby chair and just… dozed off.
The room smelled oddly nice. Soft music played over the speakers. The temperature was just right, the chair, though simple, was oddly inviting. In my current state, falling asleep wasn’t too shocking.
It couldn’t have been long before I woke up to find someone standing before me. An older woman stood before me with a soft smile, wearing a traditional nurse’s garb. She looked matronly, her eyes soft. Her presence was oddly soothing.
“Prima?” She asked, her voice held that same alluring calm. As if everything was right.
“That’s me…” I murmur, working out the kinks while I slowly got up. “And you are?”
“Your therapist going forward. I was told you had a recommendation?”
“Therapist?” I asked back, “I wasn’t aware she was sending me to therapy…”
“I’m well aware. My field is oriented towards healing spiritual damage, in whatever form it may take. And according to your chart, and what I’m seeing, you’re dealing with quite a bit of damage.”
I considered if this was worth it and… “And how will you fix this?”
“First, I’d like you to follow me to my office.”
“Sure…” I say and immediately move to follow her. That little nap did wonders to ease the lethargy I had been feeling. I felt better, less like I was about to fall apart, but I was still unsteady, off-balance.
We don’t have to go far before we arrive at a the room in question. However, on entering, I couldn’t help but pause. The room smelled sterile, of cleaning agent. It was cooler than the waiting room. A massage table was set near the side, a counter covered in oils dominated a portion of the room.
Was it the change in temperature, the lack of music, the smell? All of it reminded me of where I was, who the staff were, and likely, who this woman was.
“You’re not human, are you?” I asked, foot in the doorway, hesitating, considering whether I should run, or not.
“I am not, rather, it is as you have probably guessed. I am a succubus.”
“And this?” I motioned to the table.
“Part of the job, but I assure you, I have no intention of doing anything you don’t want.”
I considered, hesitated once more.
“And if you’re worried about me pulling anything, don’t be. An important part of my job is making sure my clients feel safe above all else, so please, come in, and take a seat.”
She motioned towards a chair. It wasn’t much of a chair, but it was on the other side of the room from the massage table, so… Despite my misgivings I sat down.
It tried my best to stay still, to take in my surroundings, to feel for any signs of trickery, but… nothing. And while I did that, she calmly pulled out a clipboard and looked over the papers clipped to it.
“Right, just to confirm, you are Prima Belle, am I correct?”
“I am, and you are?”
“Names have power, especially for us succubi I am afraid. So, as much as I want to, I cannot simply provide my name to a new client. I hope you understand.”
“Fine, then what am I supposed to call you?”
“Your therapist, simple as that. Now, I’ve looked over your chart, can you give me some information?”
She proceeded to ask basic questions, such as my daily routine, what I do. How I live. I answered honestly enough, and she kept going until she was satisfied.
“I see…” She said as I answer the final question. “Obviously, you’ve tapped into a bit of your potential, rather talent. It’s not uncommon, but a magical girl’s choice of magic, and their talent can often resonate. When it does, additional abilities can be unearthed. These abilities are often less focused on the magical nature of a magical girl, and more focused on the aspect of the soul and mind.”
I nod along. Even if I’m not entirely sure what she means by that.
“On top of that, you’ve been actively stressing your soul by adding new connections and going well over your limit for familiars. Now, normally, this kind of damage would be extremely severe. A normal person could potentially be crippled for life, however, even as a magical girl, especially a magical girl of ice, this kind of injury isn’t so easily healed.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“Surely you must feel it? How the ice covers not only your body, but mind? How easy it is to compartmentalize, to freeze over the wounds and pain, and simply ignore it, or set it aside for another time. Notably, some parts of your routine do help, but the more you die or cover your pain, the harder it becomes to reveal it.”
She sighs.
“I almost wish the director had sent you over sooner. But… we do get a lot of magical girls in and out, and so few that return.”
I let those words hang in the air for a moment before speaking up. “So, how should it be dealt with?”
“Carefully…” She mustered. “A good portion of your soul is worn and injured. Like ice broken and frozen over again, over and over. Layer after layer of wounds, scabbing over. I can’t fix this in a single session, but I can definitely get you on the path to recovery.”
She was right. That much was clear. “How do we start then?”
“First, you need to loosen up.” At those words, she sat down beside me. A little close for comfort. “Your tense, alert, wary.” She spoke, leaning in.
“I…” I started, breathed in and out, centering myself. “I’d rather keep this professional.”
She laughed but pulled back slightly. “Of course, I understand fully what you mean, but I meant nothing untoward, I promise.”
I was skeptical, and she saw that.
“You think that, just because I’m a succubi, that I must be after one thing, right?”
I don’t answer, but…
“Succubi being deviants, seeking pleasure and sex, is a common misconception. Yes, we are demons. We are beings driven by lust, by sin. Yet, we are more than just pieces of meat.”
“I’ve been told otherwise.” I thought back to my interactions with the nurses at the front, and those nurses in the ambulance. That, and my limited knowledge of demons courtesy of that book on Necromancy.
She sighed. “I must admit, our younger members don’t necessarily give us a good reputation, but I promise you. We are very strict with who they couple with. That, and they don’t just sleep around.”
“You say that, but…” I spoke of the incident with the ambulance, how the men of the Wizard gang were being dragged away, crying, screaming.
“A common problem.” Was what she started with. “Rather, it’s something of a, hazing ritual amongst those in the Lower District. Especially in the Wizard Gang. They speak of us as sordid deviants that will suck them dry, among other things.”
“And you don’t?” I asked, skeptically.
“Of course not. As I said, we don’t do that, but I suppose words alone won’t convince you, so let me tell you something. We succubi, what do you think we feed off of?”
“Life force.” I answer easily enough.
“Indeed, and just about everyone knows that having intercourse can grant a lot of life force. However, unlike what people think, that method of gathering life force is extremely harmful to a succubus.”
“Really?”
“Yes, the reason is simple. Doing the deed generates a lot of energy but think of it like taking a strong dose of an addictive drug. That much energy in such a short period of time gives us an incredible high, which causes us to keep seeking that high. Like an addiction, we can’t help ourselves. Eating more and more, until we leave trails of bodies in our wake.”
“Which is why Succubi are so dangerous.” I say.
“Right? Well, it’s not the proper way. Rather, there is a better way, the proper way. Would you like me to demonstrate?” She offers her hand.
Skeptical, but… trusting in the institution, I gave it a go. I grabbed her hand. I felt nothing. Really, it was just us two, holding hands.
“Is this it?”
“Yup.” She smiles. “Just us holding hands, like this is enough. Feel how our hands clasp, how our hearts beat against one another. Slowly, but surely, as you feel it, our hearts synchronize, our bodies match in temperature.”
As she spoke, I felt it. Slow, but sure. Her pulse, the beating of her heart through her hand, beating against my own. Mine was slow, distant. Hers was so warm, inviting. With every pulsing beat, I could feel the ice in my blood trying to recede as her warmth beats against it.
It was not painless though. With every thump, I felt a stinging pain. Like a wound unearthed. I also felt an instinctive reprisal, a subtle flush of cold that pushed back against her invading warmth.
“You’re not getting much from this…” I say, trying to distract from the pain.
“No, I’m not, but that’s just because we don’t have much of a connection. You’re still holding back, still guarding yourself.”
I frowned, she wasn’t wrong, but… only a fool would simply trust a demons word. “So what? Are we supposed to just hold hands for the next few hours?”
“If you feel comfortable with that, we can stick with this. If you’d like to go further, I can do more.”
“And just how much further are you talking about?” I start, “And if you’re talking about That, then I will have to decline.”
“I wouldn’t push you into that, not even if you were ready or willing. Something like that, requires something special.”
I eyed her, but I sensed no lies… Rather, it was hard to focus with her hand on mine.
“You’ve never had much physical contact with others, have you?” She asks, seemingly out of the blue.
“I’d prefer not to have contact with other people.”
“And why not?” She asks back.
“Is this part of the therapy?” I ask instead of answering.
“It is. Think of it as building a rapport.”
“Rapport, huh…” I say, feeling out the word, its meaning. “And this will help me recover?”
“The more we can unearth, the more you can heal.”
“Is this the only option?” I question.
“There are other options, but this is the most expedient.”
I worked my jaw but sighed. “Fine, I don’t like physical contact with people.”
“Why not? When is the last time you’ve held someone’s hand like this? Or simply been in another’s presence for the sake of it?”
For the sake of it? It wasn’t hard to remember. No, even now, I felt the aches, the pains, the echoes of the past.
“I’d rather not talk about it…” Was my answer, she frowned but didn’t press.
“What was your family like? Just say the first word or phrase that comes to mind.”
First word, huh? “Distant. Demanding. Uncaring.” Were the first words to leave my lips.
Her frown deepens; her questions keep coming. They weren’t direct. She didn’t ask for details, only bits and ends. I was ready for her to dig deeper, but she never did. Only asking cursory questions, most of which I answered easily enough, others, I declined to answer.
“Are these questions even helping?” I had to ask after another round of questions.
“They are.”
“Even if they aren’t detailed?”
“Especially so, just about every magical girl that comes through here as issues. And you’re not any different from them…” She sighs, “I really do wish you had been recommended earlier. It’s easy to overlook your mental state, but you’re not in a good place. Really, I would have liked to see you right after you awakened your uniform.”
“How so?” I asked, but I had a feeling I knew why. When I transformed, it had felt like my heart had shattered, like my mind had been broken into a million pieces and only were pulled together at the final moments by will alone.
“Transformations are traumatic, especially natural transformations… and with everything you went through, your family life, background…” She takes a moment to collect herself. “One too many bad shocks, and you’d shatter to pieces. You’re only keeping together with grit and determination, and the more I feel you out, the more I realize just how bad your condition is.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“It’s incredibly bad.” She answers back instantly. “You’ve broken yourself over and over and continue to do so. Each and every time you make a familiar, your breaking pieces of yourself off, and though the damage heals, you do it so much, invest so much into it, it’s a miracle you haven’t broken down.”
“I’m an ice magical girl, isn’t keeping it together my whole schtick?”
“It is, but this… I don’t even know where to begin… If you were any other element, you would have killed yourself or burned out by now. Even now, I can’t quite say your wholly there.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, sensing something in her voice.
“Like, something inside you is fundamentally broken? And I don’t say that to be mean, but it is what it is. A lot of magical girls enter with fragile, or broken psyches, but yours is… I’m not sure if it can be fully healed?”
“Is that… bad?”
“I mean… it is. Granted, it’s part of why you can have so many active familiars. How you can handle so many connections. most magical girls can only hold a few, but you’ve broken and shattered yourself so many times over and over, and I can’t just say it happened during your time in the city. You must have entered the city with a fractured mind.”
“Okay… and?”
“And…” She takes a moment once more to collect herself. “Right, sorry… I just…” She pulls her hand free from mine. Her hand was covered in frost. A light frost left her lips. “I just need a moment.”
I stay quiet and wait for her to collect herself. While she does that, I decide to ask a few questions of my own.
“Those you take in, do you do this? Hold hands?”
“It’s the easiest way for us to feed, but its more than that. The real reason why we are employed here Is two-fold. First, succubi, like myself, are masters at soul manipulation. Whenever a magical girl dies, they tend to take significant soul damage. It can be brushed off by most, but dying too many times in a short period of time can cause serious issues.”
“And what, holding hands can fix that? Is it really that easy?” I point to how dumb that sounds.
“A bit, yes. When we feed, it’s not just on the physical level, but on the emotional, spiritual level. Think of how leeches or maggots are used in the medical field. We succubi can feed off the scars and rot, or in some cases, even encourage soul growth through our abilities.”
“So, just to clarify, you don’t assault your patients?”
“No. And if any of us did, we’d be put down promptly. We have a bad reputation in the city, but that’s partially intentional. The younger succubi are put at the front, as a means to temper them, and also weed out the bad actors. If anyone approaches them with ill intentions, we promptly bar them from the premises. As for succubi like me, we’ve long grown out of our rebellious phase and have adapted.”
“That… but why keep that a secret? Why does the Lower Quarter, or the Wizard Gang push that your all sexual deviants? Is it really just a farce they made up?”
“They make it a secret, and they push that narrative because they are afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Yes, anyone that chooses to live in the Lower Quarter, above all fears opening up. They fear the authorities, fear putting themselves in anyone else’s hands. That fear, feeds into itself so that they avoid us.”
“So, what, they’re afraid to hold hands?”
“More or less, imagine, these people have gone their whole lives being put down, or let down. They keep themselves together through spite, or any number of emotions. Sometimes, all it takes to break them down is a hug, or even a small bit of earnest praise. That is why they are afraid of us, and oftentimes why when they are brought in, they stay for so long.”
I wanted to retort. No, I wanted to deny what she said, and yet… I couldn’t. After all, I knew full well how cruel the world could be. The ice was a crutch, yes, but it kept me whole. It kept me together, but what really kept me together was something else.
Alex. Rather, the memory of her. Of her reaching out to me on that fateful night in the rain. A single flickering moment of joy, of hope. Like a flickering flame, or perhaps even like a lit cigarette. A feeling I wanted nothing more than to lose myself in, to reach for, over and over again, just to relive those moments.
That was my core, that was the central part of my being. That critical piece that held me together. That, and the ache in my being, the constant desire, that unnerving need that made my fingers twitch…
On top of that were all the people that carried me through my darkest times, even at the cost of their own well-being.
I sighed. Knowing, dreading what I knew I had to do. It wasn’t just for my health, no, it also had another purpose. To prepare for the next hit, when inevitably I faced a trial, or tribulation.
I couldn’t afford to simply let my wounds heal naturally, even if I wanted too. Even if opening my heart, opening myself up for a succubus was a foolish thing to do…
No matter the price, I was willing to give it a shot. I’ve resisted worst. So, if this is just part of a greater plan, a means to get me addicted, coming back for more…
Well, I’d figure that out at a later date.
With that in mind, I spoke. “I understand… Can we try again, from the top?” My hand extended out, waiting for her touch.
She eyed me, surprised, confused. “You can’t force this.” Was what she said, but…
“I think I’m ready enough. It’ll work this time.” She gave me a skeptical look, but said nothing else as she took my hand.
To be fair, she wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t normal for someone to just decide to open up, to leave themselves vulnerable, that was true. However, I was different, I was broken in some fundamental way. Since that moment I was pulled from the ice, my perspective has always been skewed, how I viewed the world, has always been off. Since that moment, life had been a series of masks, faces I wore.
All to meet my goal. Only to be denied, and for me to break even more, well beyond recovery. Only with Alex could I let the mask slip, and… I feared. Feared what it meant, feared how easy it was to imagine myself abandoning my task, my curse.
Yet, what does it say about me that I chose my purpose over her? Nothing good, of that, I am sure. At the same time, I wasn’t the same person I was before. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally.
I had people I could talk to, people I could rely on if necessary, and people who relied on me. And that, that made a world of difference. For the first time since before I had fallen into the ice… I really did feel like I didn’t have to wear a mask. That I could fully be me.
Our hands were clasped once more. Instinctively, I rejected her touch. The ice crawled forward to deny her, to keep my feelings, emotions, my heart hidden away.
With a breath in, out. I focused not on her, but on everyone else. Everything else. My trials, my tribulations. The people I’ve met, the situations I’ve been through. On Liche, Joan, Diana, Amanda, Serenity, Grim, and so many other names. People that I felt I could be myself with, that I could fully reveal myself too…
There was no talking, there was no need for that. Despite her words, I was not so fragile. Not anymore.
Slowly, but surely, I felt for her pulse. The warmth of her hand, in mine. I focused on that feeling, allowing my heart to slow, to match her rhythm. As I did, I felt myself pulled in. Quicker, faster, as if I were sinking, deeper and deeper into nothingness.
Yet I was not alone. No, I felt her presence more than ever. As our essences bled and mixed together. Bolstering, strengthening, and empowering what lay within.
It was intoxicating. Soothing. And I felt the last vestiges of my defenses melt away.
In this moment, I was not ice. No, I was wholly human. Flesh and blood. Even as magic thrummed through my veins. I felt it. More than ever. It was surreal, so strange. And looking at the therapist, how she looked at me, her gaze, odd, foreign, and yet, some part of me yearned for it.
Like that of a concerned matron, a mother looking at a wayward child.
I said nothing, I did not probe that particular thought. Instead, I continued to let myself drift. Trusting not in her, but her profession.
I felt hollowed out. Empty, and yet… Like an abscess that had been lanced, the foul, putrid liquid within pulled out. And in that hollow, another kind of energy flowed, from the matron into me. An energy that suffused my being with warmth and safety.
Pride mattered little. Only recovery, so I let my eyes close. Allowed myself to settle in and drift off, and for once, I let myself enjoy a moment of succor. Of peace.