LITMIR.BIZ

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      “How much do you know about your family?” Miss Spry asked. When I shrugged, she said. “Did you know that your mother was a succubus?”

      My mother, the ex-hippie, who claimed that she’d traveled (and slept) with every rock-n-roll legend who’d ever tuned a guitar at Woodstock. My mother who would willingly tell anyone (her hairdresser, her gynecologist, the paper boy) about the time she’d spent with Ken Kesey and his Merry Pranksters aboard their psychedelic bus. My mother whose freak flag could have been the official banner of Haight-Ashbury. My open-yourself-to-all-experiences mother was a succubus.

      At last, something that made sense.

      She continued. “Your grandmother, too, was a succubus.”

      My grandmother? I’d never met my grandmother – she’d long died before I was born – but I still couldn’t imagine it.

      “As was her mother and her mother and so on. It’s a line of women extending back to Sarah Goodswain.”

      Sarah Goodswain? I’d never heard of her. My mother wasn’t one for genealogies, and I wondered if she even knew this information.

      “Sarah was born in Salem, Massachusetts in 1723 and, in 1744, she was arrested for being a witch.” Miss Spry smiled slightly. “She wasn’t a witch, of course; none of those young women were. But Sarah was a clever girl. She realized that the only way to escape hanging was to do exactly what she’d been accused of and make a deal.”

      A deal? With whom, the Devil? Could people actually do that? Then again, I was hardly an expert on religion. Yes, I’d gone to Catholic school, but that place had taught me only two things: (1) everything I did was a sin and (2) I hated God as much as he hated me. When Grace went through a religious phase and asked me about God, I acted like he was a bad boyfriend. “You’re better off without him. Trust me,” was all I’d said.

      “So you’re telling me that my great-great something grandmother made a deal with the Devil?”

      “We don’t use that word here,” Miss Spry said tartly. “Let’s just say that Sarah made a deal with someone who could get her out of prison and away from Cotton Mather and his father. She promised that she would do the Master’s bidding in return for her freedom. But the Master is clever, too, and he drives a hard bargain.” Miss Spry’s eyes twinkled. Clearly she admired this Master person. “He made Sarah agree that every female descendent in her line would follow her path and become a succubus. And that path, Ms. Straight, has finally led to you.”

      I shoved my cup aside, slopping tea over Miss Spry’s spotless desk. “Don’t I get a say in all of this? I mean, a succubus? A demon that sleeps with strange men? No. Way.”

      “First of all, you are not a demon. You house a demon. The same demon that your mother and grandmother had. In fact, the same demon that Sarah herself had. You are essentially still human, but now a demon shares space inside of you, and gifts you with its powers.”

      I started to object, but she held up her hand. “Secondly, a succubus is a seducer, Lilith, not a slut. It isn’t so bad.”

      “It’s not so bad! Are you kidding me?” I leaned forward in my chair. “What if I refuse?” I might have acted brave, but my legs trembled and my mouth was bone dry.

      I expected the older woman’s eyes to go hot again, but instead she smiled. “You may choose not to become a succubus if you wish.”

      There was an unspoken ‘but’ at the end of that sentence. I just knew it.

      Miss Spry didn’t disappoint me. “But then, of course, you’ll remain here.” She hesitated just a moment. “Dead.”

      Dead. The word hit like a jab to the solar plexus, and I sank backwards in my seat. “I can’t be dead! I know I was hit by a car, but still.” I stood up. “I mean, look at me! I look fine. I feel fine.” I spun in a little circle. “No injuries. No scars.”

      She shrugged. “Believe me. You are dead. In fact right now, your broken body is crumpled on the road, and a stray dog is lapping up your blood. But don’t worry. The funeral director will do a fine job of covering up the damage, so your young daughter won’t have to witness the gruesome condition of your corpse. Of course, it won’t prevent her from becoming hysterical when she sees you lying in your coffin.”

      Miss Spry’s cunning little smile lit a fire inside me. “You can’t do this!” I lunged across the desk. Miss Spry lifted her hand in defense, throwing me across the room. I hit the wall so hard that all the air in my lungs expelled in a single gasp. My chest ached as I sucked wind.

      Miss Spry left her desk to stand over me. Her face was hard; her eyes hot. “You either become a succubus, or you die and the next female takes your place. Either way, the line will continue unbroken. There are no exceptions.”

      Die now or allow the Devil to take my soul. It wasn’t much of a choice. Still, I didn’t have to think it over. My mother had abandoned me when I was a child, and I wouldn’t do that to my own daughter. When my lungs reached equilibrium, I gasped, “Fine. I’ll do it.”

      Miss Spry nodded. “Good. I’ll return you to your world, and you can resume your life. When I need you, you’ll be summoned. And you will come.” I’d spent maybe half an hour with this woman, but I already knew that tone and that expression. Miss Spry would not be crossed. If she said come, I came.

      As it turned out, I hadn’t been wrong about what would happen to me in that place; I was just wrong about who would be owning me. It wasn’t the woman in the prison cell after all. No, I was Miss Spry’s bitch.

      When I came back to reality, I was standing on the same sidewalk where, seemingly ages ago, I’d been texting Jasmine. My hip ached, either from the impact of the car hitting me or the impact of Miss Spry throwing me against the wall. I couldn’t be sure.

      In fact, I couldn’t be sure about any of it. I still had my purse, and my cell phone was in my pocket. Yet, at the same time, I was missing a shoe, my watch was broken, and tire tracks climbed up the side of my slacks. Feeling sick and disoriented, I heaved up my guts all over the clean sidewalk in one of the nicest suburbs in the city.

      It was my guess that succubi generally don’t do this as it’s not very attractive.

      My head felt strangely empty, like I needed to remember something important. The jail cell, the conversation with Miss Spry, even the taste of the tea…all of these things were pieces to a puzzle I couldn’t solve. I drove numbly, obeying all of the traffic laws out of habit, but not really paying attention to what I was doing.

      By the time I got home, it was fully dark, and every light in the townhouse blazed. I sat in the car for several minutes, trying to think of how to explain the missing shoe, the tire tracks up my pant leg, and the fact that I had borrowed Jas’s purse without her permission. At last, I simply gave up and went inside, figuring whatever happened, happened.

      Grace, her face tear-stained, met me in the doorway and hugged me so tightly that my injured hip protested. “Mommy! Where were you?” I was instantly on alert; she hasn’t called me ‘mommy’ in years.

      Behind her stood a very worried-looking Ariel and a mournful Jasmine who was leaning against the hairless wonder who, seemingly years ago, had been sleeping on my couch. I felt a glow in my chest. They loved me! They were worried about me! “I’m okay,” I assured them. “I wasn’t that hurt.”

      “Hurt? What are you talking about? Who’s hurt?” Jas looked offended, as if I was trying to upstage whatever she had going on.

      Before I could make my big announcement – that I’d been hit by a car, killed, sent to Hell and survived the trip thank-you-very-much – Grace pressed her face into my side. “She’s dead, mommy. Gramma’s dead.”

      The puzzle pieces finally fell together. I’d been made a succubus because my mother had died, and someone needed to take her place. Like Miss Spry had told me, one generation must always follow

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