Suddenly A Succubus

Surrounded by dozens of other students, Vee kept to herself as she slowly walked towards the exit of the Bradshaw Music & Arts Center. Everyone around her smiled, laughed, and talked amongst themselves about the new songs they were learning this semester; conversations that Vee herself had enthusiastically participated in only weeks earlier. Like everyone else present, she was a member of the University Chorus: the most prestigious choral organization at Aurelius University. Unlike everyone else, she was beginning to struggle with the increased complexity of the new material they’d been assigned at the start of the semester.

It had started small: a moment of slight discomfort during an arpeggio, a hint of raspiness while attempting to sing towards her upper limits. With each passing day, however, her vocal abilities suffered more and more, and she now struggled to make it through even a single hour of group rehearsal, let alone the many hours of individual practice she normally assigned herself.

Mustering the same enthusiasm as her classmates about their repertoire proved nigh impossible, even as she acknowledged how beautiful it was. The things she’d previously loved about singing—the challenge, the technical complexity, the intricate texture of each unique harmony—meant little when she felt she could no longer contribute the way she had previously. One of their new songs required a soprano solo, and she’d declined even auditioning for it, an act that would have mortified her as little as a few months ago.

How long will it be before I have to drop out entirely? At this rate, I might not even have a voice by the end of the semester, and what then? What if I—

“—what about you, Vee?”

Startled, Vee flinched as she abandoned her thoughts, returning to the conversation that had been happening around her.

“Sorry, what was that?” she asked. “I spaced out for a moment.”

The girl speaking at the moment was Makenna, one of the choir’s altos. She had fair skin, a slender face, and strawberry blonde hair which she frequently braided. She was in the middle of wrapping a thick scarf around her neck as they approached the frigid outdoors. “Which Whitacre piece is your favorite?”

“That’s a mean question, Makenna. They’re all gorgeous,” Vee said.

“Well, obviously, but if you had to pick a favorite, which would it be? Steve said ‘Sleep’ and I’m trying to prove him wrong.”

After a moment of mentally sifting through Eric Whitacre’s catalogue, Vee responded. “I’d probably say Cloudburst. The beginning is gorgeous, and I’ve enjoyed the way longer pieces can work with established melodies. Plus, with all the spoken segments and the strange sound effects, it’s just incredibly dynamic.”

“Ha! In your face!” Makessa laughed, jabbing a finger into Steve’s arm. Everyone winced slightly as the exit opened, sending a burst of cold, winter air towards the group.

Vee found it difficult to stay invested in her friends’ conversation. She halfheartedly nodded along with them as they walked down the front steps, but that was all she could muster. As they veered off towards their other classes, Vee waved goodbye and started walking towards Amara’s apartment.

Choir had been her last class of the day. The rest of the afternoon loomed in front of her like some foreboding obelisk, and she had no idea what she wanted to do with her free time. Amara wouldn’t be home for several hours; she’d been asked to lend her photography skills to some friends of hers, and the thought of sitting alone in her apartment didn’t exactly fill Vee with excitement about returning there. Her steps began to slow, and as she heard other students approaching behind her, she decided to veer off the sidewalk to stop entirely.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, took a deep breath, and sighed.

What am I supposed to do?

Loud bell chimes suddenly erupted from D’Ambray Chapel, which itself was situated quite close to the Bradshaw Center. Vee looked to her right, her eyes tracing the many intricate arches and spires that adorned the building, eventually settling on the clock tower. From this angle, she could just barely see the massive bell that hung in the Chapel’s tallest spire, and she paused as she listened to the simple melody of the chimes. The bell itself wasn’t moving, which was nothing new, and she watched the Chapel with unusual interest as the hourly ritual finished its song.

In the past, she’d gone to her parents or The Church whenever she felt lost. She didn’t dare do so now, but that instinct remained, and the thought of reaching out to a spiritual leader refused to leave her brain.

D’Ambray isn’t a church anymore, but Ekstápoli has one just a few minutes outside of campus, doesn’t it?

Anything sounded better than brooding alone in Amara’s apartment.

With a decision reached, Vee readjusted her backpack and returned to the sidewalk. Her stride felt more purposeful this time, even if that purpose was simple distraction. As she walked, she pulled out her phone and quickly texted Amara.

Vee: Heading into town for a bit, I’ll text you when I’m omw home. Love you!

Amara: Love you too! Try to stay warm without me! :P

Hearing from Amara brought a smile to her face, if only for a minute. No matter what she did, where she went, or who she talked to, it was impossible to stop herself from thinking back to last night’s conversation with Evelyn.

Amara’s mother visited them for dinner fairly regularly, and her visits were always a joy. Evelyn was infinitely kind and compassionate, despite her status as one of Hell’s most ancient demons, and Vee loved having her over. Her visits always brought a smile to Amara’s face, seeing as they were the only family the other had, but Vee had also been itching for a chance to talk to Evelyn about her angelic heritage and waning powers.

All her hopes had been dashed in only a few, simple sentences.

“Vee, darling, I’m so sorry that’s happening, but… I’m not sure I’ll be able to offer any insight into this. All my experience with angels is from a time where I viewed them as mortal enemies, and even then, I had shockingly little contact with them. Plus, as you well know, Heaven altered the nature of angels centuries ago, which means there’s been precious little time for demons like myself to try and understand the complexities of your existence. The concept of a ‘fallen angel’ dates back to a time where angels lived in Heaven, and the act of being removed from the divine afterlife also stripped them of their abilities entirely. It was an incredibly dramatic affair, however, which doesn’t sound anything like what you’re going through…”

For the first time in her life, she didn’t know where to turn to get answers. In years past, everything had made sense: she understood the afterlife, her role in the divine plan, and what the rest of her life was going to look like. Even on her worst days, when she was forced to accept that she was significantly less capable than all her angelic peers, at least she understood the facts.

But what now? Is my life going to wither away bit by bit until I vanish entirely? If Heaven is so keen on taking me out, why not just fucking get it over with?!

Vee kicked a nearby chunk of ice out of frustration. She only dislodged a tiny piece, which skittered across the sidewalk as a dull, throbbing pain appeared in her foot. Wincing, she fought the urge to double over before quickly realizing that several other students were now looking at her. Warmth rushed to her cheeks as she blushed out of embarrassment, and she pulled her hat down further before racing away to the nearby intersection.

After leaving the campus, it took about ten minutes to reach her destination: the Prince of Peace Lutheran Church located just a few blocks away from downtown Ekstápoli. When Vee had first started school, she’d briefly visited this church simply to familiarize herself with the surrounding town, but returning had never been necessary.

The global organization that monitored angels simply called itself The Church, and it operated completely independently of most churches scattered around the world. On rare occasions, The Church would sometimes contact facilities that found themselves close to supernatural events, and angels occasionally used local churches as meeting grounds for allies, but otherwise they shared little outside of general nomenclature.

Local churches operated in the dark, after all. They had no proof Heaven truly existed, and they were blind to the real nature and existence of angels. While The Church busied itself with the protection of mankind from demonic incursions, local churches instead raised money for charity, offered religious services for the communities, and other activities of the sort.

Vee found this church rather pleasant to look at, though she assumed Nick might have stern words about its design if asked for an opinion. The structure was made almost entirely of reddish-brown bricks, with beige concrete lining the tops and bottoms of the brickwork. Every single face of the building existed on some kind of angle, and as the church sat on a corner lot, following the natural lines of the building felt like riding some kind of visual roller coaster. On the largest face of the building, which reached its height closest to the nearby intersection, a large metal cross stood proud, despite the ice and snow atop it skewing the visual slightly.

Walking past the front doors, the smell of religion immediately found Vee. It was a smell she was intimately familiar with; old paper, scentless candles, and sterile bread, all mixing together to remind her of the countless hours she’d spent in similar facilities with her parents. Attending church wasn’t strictly required for angels or their parents, but seeing as Heaven only gifted the spark of Creation to the most devout couples, it was no surprise that pretty much all angels had a church they considered their own outside of The Church.

Thick carpets meant to absorb snow and salt had been placed in front of the entrance, and as she looked around, she remembered just how large the entrance lobby was. Long wooden coat racks had been built into the angled walls to her left and right, and she dutifully removed her coat before hanging it up over her backpack, which she’d set in the farthest corner available.

A hallway to the left led to a series of small classrooms, as well as a common area meant for serving food. A larger hallway to her right funneled visitors towards the main chapel, which is where Vee found herself wandering.

Was she looking for someone? Not necessarily. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why she was here, other than habit, and she busied herself by reading various flyers announcing events and charity drives that had taken place over the holiday. Occasionally, she passed a painting or simple relief depicting an important religious event described in the Bible, and each time Vee cast her thoughts to other angels she’d heard about that might be powerful enough to recreate the various miracles depicted in ancient texts.

She eventually walked into the main chapel itself, taking great care to walk silently lest her footsteps echo around the massive, empty chamber. Sunlight drifted through the myriad skylights, illuminating the tile floors and countless wooden pews that sat facing a single, raised dais at the front of the room. Behind the podium hung a massive banner with golden stitching that depicted a cross with doves surrounding it, but Vee paid little attention to the ornaments of the simple, mortal religion practiced here. Instead, she silently approached a large bowl that sat inside a wooden podium in the center aisle.

Placing hand on the bowl, she closed her eyes for a moment before looking down. Her movement had slightly jostled the water inside, distorting the reflection that stared back at her. This bowl, the church likely claimed, was full of holy water. Was that actually true?

Curiosity took hold, and Vee closed her eyes in hopes of connecting to the spark of Divinity theoretically nestled deep inside her soul.

Remember, Vee, this power isn’t yours. It’s a gift from the Divine, a connection to something bigger than yourself. It’s a tiny sliver of the power that created all things, and only through nurturing that connection can you manifest control.

Faint, Enochian humming raced through her body as she tried to determine the nature of the water beneath her. She gripped the edges of the bowl tightly, then opened her eyes and looked down at her distorted reflection one more time. Hesitant sparks of angelic magic flared to life, telling her with absolute certainty that this water was completely mundane.

I can change that, right? I’ve summoned Enochian flames before, and that’s way more difficult.

Maintaining her connection to the Divine, she moved her right hand away from the edge of the bowl. Her fingers cautiously tapped the surface of the water, and she asked the forces of Heaven to gift her once again with the power to cleanse the basin, to completely remove all mortal impurities and turn it into holy water.

In the reflection, she saw her eyes flash with purpose, but nothing happened.