Succubus Lord 16, page 23
Aruna flew up for several hundred more feet as I stared down at the ground, whose features were getting smaller and smaller by the second. Once we were a few thousand feet off the ground, the Aruna-bird leveled off and began to head east.
We weren’t quite as high as a commercial aircraft would have flown, but it was high enough that the air was thin and frigid. Superbia held her body tighter against mine for warmth, and I responded by summoning red flames into my hand.
I held up my glowing crimson spell like a torch and allowed the gusts of wind to blow past it fiercely. Thankfully, the flames didn’t go out. Instead, the gusts carried the heat from the spell backward, and we were all soon wrapped in its warm embrace.
I didn’t know what the top speed of a thunderbird was, but it was a hell of a lot faster than walking.
Within thirty minutes, my communicator vibrated wildly and announced we had arrived at our destination.
“There!” I called out as I pointed down at a few buildings below. “This is the place!”
Aruna let out a deep caw in response before she jerked downward and headed for the ground.
The sudden movement knocked me off balance, but I was able to hold my grip as we continued downward.
Aruna held out her talons, slammed them into the ground, and kept her momentum going with her feet. Eventually, she decreased her gait, and we came to a full stop.
“H-Holy shit!” Jane laughed. “That was awesome!”
The cultist stumbled off Aruna’s back. Her short brunette locks were now a messy tangle, but her eyes were full of wonder and excitement as she spun around and cackled.
The rest of us slipped off the Rakshasi’s back, and then she slowly began to return to her human form.
Suddenly, Todd let out a muffled laugh.
I turned around to see what was so amusing, and when I saw it, I nearly doubled over laughing.
Oliver was standing with his hands firmly on his hips, and he was making circles with his waist as he attempted to limber up. His wiry white hair, which was normally in the controlled chaos of a bird’s nest haircut, was now flopping off his head and hanging on by a tiny thread of adhesive.
“Uh… Ollie?” Todd snickered and patted his head. “You, uh, got a little something going on up there.”
“What?” the cult leader asked as he reached up for the stringy noodles on his head. “Did the wind give my hair more volume? I’ve been trying all sorts of new shampoos to--Ahhh!”
The color drained from Oliver’s face as he frantically patted his toupee back onto his noggin. Even with his sudden effort, the thing didn’t go back on properly, and there was a “swoosh” effect at the very crest of his hairline.
“Of all the toupees in the world, that’s the one he chose?” Todd whispered.
“Hey, I thought it was real,” I admitted, “and so did you. So, it wasn’t that bad.”
“Well,” Oliver sighed, “I supposed the cat is out of the bag. No, this isn’t my real hair. I’ve been bald since the nineteenth century, and I’ve been trying to hide it ever since.”
“You should try going bald, Ollie,” Todd suggested. “All the world’s badasses make it work. Vin Diesel… Stone Cold Steve Austin… Bruce Willis… Fuck, even Patrick Steward makes it look good, and that dude’s like a hundred years old!”
“Really?” Oliver gasped. “I never thought of it that way before. Perhaps I should try a new look.”
In a single motion, the cultist grabbed the edge of his toupee, ripped it off his head, and threw it like a frisbee off into the grass. However, it seemed Oliver’s hair wasn’t completely gone. There were patches of wiry white hair all around his head in a horseshoe shape, but none of them were connected. Instead, it looked like the man was wearing white rat-tails all over his noggin.
“Did you, uh… ” Jane tried to ask timidly, “did you ever try to get hair plugs, Oliver?”
“Of course, I did.” He nodded. “Why? Do they add to the ‘badass bald man’ look?”
“Not exactly,” Jane explained. “They’re more--”
“Oh, god!” Todd gagged. “I was wrong! I was so, soooo wrong, Ollie. Get that thing back onto your head before we start attracting every bird within a fifty mile radius.”
The cultist’s face turned beet red. He covered up his hair plugs, dashed over to his discarded toupee, and quickly shoved it back onto his head. The hairpiece was now covered with dirt and stained green from the grass, but it still looked a million times better than what he had a second ago.
“So, this is your friend’s place?” Aruna’s purring voice cut through my thoughts. “It’s kinda quaint.”
About a hundred feet away from us stood the main house, a two-story structure made out of brown and white brick that had a roof covered in dark brown terracotta shingles. There were a few windows on the front of the dwelling, which hung above the red wooden doors. Gravel made up the pathway to the house, as well as the driveway that led to the garage beside it.
The whole thing couldn’t have been more than a thousand square feet in total, but it definitely had character.
Off to the left of the house sat a second building almost identical to the first, and next to that was a one-story stable. There was a fenced-off area between the two structures, but there didn’t seem to be any horses to enjoy it.
Either way, this was the epitome of a rural Italian villa.
“We should go knock,” I finally broke the silence. “Piero and his wife are probably looking out the window right now thinking ‘what the fuck are those creepy fuckers doing?’”
“We’re just admiring the beauty of their home,” Sia protested. “I’m sure they won’t take that badly.”
“That’s a good one,” I noted. “Definitely use that when we get inside.”
“We are quite a long way from the Vatican,” Mary sighed as we walked down the hill and toward the house. “As much as I love the countryside, I feel very impure being away from the holy city.”
“Just wait, Ms. Poppins,” Todd chuckled, and then he began to transform into his human form. “Spend a few more days with Jakey and the gang, and you’ll hear things that’ll make your virgin ears tuck in on themselves.”
We walked up to the door of the farmhouse, knocked heartily, and then waited for somebody to answer the door.
A moment later, the red wooden door popped open to reveal the stocky figure of Piero Esposito. The man’s bushy eyebrows sprang up with excitement when he recognized me, and he instantly let go of the door and went in for the embrace.
“Mi amico!” he proclaimed in a thick Italian accent. “It’s so good to see you again, Mister Missouri.”
“Good to see you again, too, Piero,” I chuckled.
“And who are all these beautiful women and strong men?” he asked rhetorically. “Are these the work friends you were telling me about?”
“They are,” I confirmed, and then I went around and introduced every single one of them to our host.
When we got to Mary, things got a little awkward. The nun was still in her full religious habit, and she simply gave the man a small nod of acknowledgement when it came time to introduce her.
“What did you say you do for work, amico?” Pierre questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Some sort of television program?”
“That’s right!” I lied as I thought back to my lie on Patmos. “I’m still doing that forgotten history show, and this time we’re doing an episode on the Vatican. Sister Mary here is going to be our main source of information for this one, so we asked her to travel with us.”
“I see.” The Italian man nodded. “Well, this is far from a convent, Sister, but I swear my wife and I are people of the Lord.”
“Good to hear.” Mary smiled.
“Come on in!” Piero offered as he stepped aside and motioned to the interior of the house. “Mia is just getting dinner around.”
“Dinner?” I gasped. “Piero, you know that’s not necessary.”
“Nonsense.” The man stomped his foot and stuck his head up into the air proudly. “I want my American friend to experience a bit of Italian hospitality, and what better way than to have my beautiful wife cook up a little ‘Taste of Italy’ for you?”
“A man after my own heart,” Todd snickered as he patted his rumbling belly. “I could totally eat a cow, Figaro.”
“All in due time, amico.” Piero nodded. “Now come, I will give you a tour of my humble abode.”
The stocky Italian man walked into his living room and gestured wildly at the decor.
The interior of the house was pure white, with vaulted ceilings that looked like they were held up by old, decaying beams. The floors were made out of creaky wood and covered with red, patterned throw rugs, and open archways acted as the threshold for each door. An older red couch sat against the wall across from a wood-burning stove that was placed back inside a cubby of the wall, and between the two fixtures sat a large wooden coffee table. There were a few worn white bookshelves on the far wall, with a circular mirror hung just above.
Piero led us through the living room and into the kitchen, where a woman was dashing around to various pots and pans. She was a very tall, lanky woman with pure black hair and features so pointed they could have been deadly. She was wearing a simple blue sundress, but she had it covered up by a white chef’s apron.
“Mia!” Piero called out to his wife. “Jacob and his friends have arrived!”
“Oh, dear,” Mia gasped as she whirled to face us. “So pleased to meet you all. I hope you are enjoying our home!”
“Very much so, Mrs. Esposito,” I reassured her.
The kitchen was wide and open, with a large island at its center and cabinets that stretched across the entire perimeter. Scents of basil, mozzarella, and garlic filled the room currently, and my stomach let out a stern growl in anticipation of whatever she was making.
“Um, Mrs. Esposito?” Gula raised her hand timidly.
“Yes, amica?” Mia stopped what she was doing and looked at the succubus.
“My name is Gula,” the Sister of Gluttony introduced herself. “And I’m the production crew’s personal chef. Would you mind if I helped you out in the kitchen?”
Mia’s pearly whites were put on full display as she smiled at the succubus and put her hands on her hips.
“Of course!” she proclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to work with a professional chef.”
Gula let out a squeal of glee before she bid us ado and ran over to help Mrs. Esposito.
“Much gusto, that one,” Piero chuckled, and then he led us into the next room. “This is the dining room.”
The space in question was very tiny, no bigger than twenty square feet in total. All it contained was a small, round table with two wooden chairs that looked like they’d seen better days.
“This makes our first apartment look big, Jakey,” Todd noted.
“Do not worry,” Piero reassured us all, “this is where Mia and I enjoy our morning coffee and eat together. We will be dining out here… ”
The Italian man pulled open his sliding glass door, stepped outside, and then gestured proudly.
Before us sat a brick porch covered with an awning. There was a long table out here on the patio with twelve Tuscan-style black metal chairs and a blue-and-white tablecloth stretched across its top. White bone plates, wine goblets, and silverware were already set up, just waiting for people to sit around it and enjoy whatever morsels they were gorging themselves on.
What really caught my attention, however, was the backyard of this place.
There was a large swath of grass bordered by a waist-high brick wall. Beyond that laid a gorgeous view of a sprawling valley and Italy’s rolling hills. Even further beyond that was one of the country’s mountain ranges, characterized by their massive green peaks and the occasional blot of farmland. A few other houses could be seen from a distance, but this was the only place around for miles.
“Pardon my French,” I whistled, “but damn.”
“That doesn’t sound like French!” Piero slapped me happily on the back. “That’s English, amico. Now, shall we sit down and have some wine while we wait?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Sia giggled.
Piero took a seat at the head of the table, and then we all filed in around him. I was situated between Todd and Isabella, with Mary and Invidia right across from me.
The Italian man quickly uncorked a bottle of dark red Syrah. He filled up each of our goblets, one-by-one, and then began to pass them around the table.
“What is the plan, exactly?” Isabella hissed to me under her breath. “Are we really just going to sit around and drink wine while the apocalypse is upon us?”
“For now? Yes,” I explained. “We just need to lay low for a while until we can formulate a new plan. Then we’ll be on our way.”
“I don’t think we really have a plan?” Isabella sighed. “Apparently, we’re supposed to just play it by ear until something magically happens.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I promised the BPI Agent. “But until then, we may as well try and relax.”
I picked up my goblet of wine, placed it against my lips, and tilted it back along with my head. The second the red liquid poured into my mouth, I got a taste of dry, smoky grape. It was very crisp and full-bodied, so I quickly gulped it down and took another swig.
“Very good, no?” Piero chuckled. “This has always been Mia and I’s favorite for a nice, romantic night out here on the terazza.”
“Hold on, bro… ” Todd whispered. “This dude’s literally wining and dining us, and now he’s talking about romance? I hope we’re not all gonna wake up tomorrow with an ass-ache, if you catch my drift.”
“I told you, Piero is cool,” I reminded the imp, turned to our host, and raised my glass. “Everybody… I’d like to propose a toast. To our gracious host, Piero!”
“To Piero!” all of my friends exclaimed before they gulped down another swig of their wine.
“Are you not indulging?” Oliver questioned as he nodded to Mary.
“I only drink wine during communion, thank you,” the nun admitted.
“So, Sister Mary,” Piero began, “how did you get caught up in Jacob’s crazy world of historical television?”
Mary shot me a stern glance, but I simply nodded to let her know she could proceed.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Todd was making a slicing motion across his throat, so I nudged him forcefully with my elbow.
“Well,” Mary began, and I could tell her heart was currently in her throat, “I met Jacob not too long ago. The team came to my home and asked me if I wanted to accompany them on their journey.”
“Fascinating.” Piero nodded. “So, it was a cold call?”
“Definitely a cold call,” the nun chuckled. “There were two other parties that were interested, as well, but ultimately, I decided to go with Jacob and his crew.”
“You had three offers on the table at the same time?” The Italian man leaned forward in his chair and stared at the woman. “That’s quite the predicament. How did you decide on Jacob?”
Mary looked over at me as the hint of a smirk arose from the corners of her mouth.
“They seemed like they were asking me with good intentions,” she explained. “The other two parties were only thinking about how they could better themselves. Jacob seemed like he wanted to tell my story.”
Even though she was lying through her teeth about the production crew, there was truth in Mary’s words, and I couldn’t help but feel a little pride in her proclamation.
“How about that, Jacob?” Piero exclaimed. “You have the seal of approval from a nun! You can’t get much better than that, unless you have the approval of the Big Man Upstairs himself.”
I chuckled at the man’s comment. He had no idea just how impossible that was to achieve at this point in time.
Suddenly, the sliding glass door opened again as Gula and Mia strolled out onto the patio with large pans of food in their hands.
“Who’s ready for some sustenance?” Gula announced with a wide grin. “I can assure you, it’s going to be simply other-worldly.”
The redheaded succubus placed the two bowls she held down in front of us, and we all marveled at what was inside.
One of the bowls was filled with fresh-made garlic bread, loaves of bread that had been sliced directly down the middle and then topped off with gooey mozzarella cheese, a bit of basil, and lots of fucking garlic butter.
The other one contained a heaping pile of fresh-cut lettuce mixed in with olives, tomatoes, onions, pepperoncini peppers, and crumbles of feta cheese. The dish shone under the dull light of the sun thanks to its dressing, which was drenched on so thick I briefly wondered if this salad was more of a soup.
Mia was carrying two large, flat pans, and I knew exactly what was coming.
She placed two large pizza pies down on the table before us, and my mouth nearly hit the floor.
Both of the pies were made from scratch, with dough that looked thin and crispy. There were two varieties… margherita on the left, ground beef and spinach on the right. The grease from the melted cheese pooled at the edge of the pie and then slowly spilled over onto the pan.
“It looks very nice, Mia,” Mary admitted. “Shall I say grace before we begin?”
“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Esposito agreed with a warm smile.
We all bowed our heads as the nun gave her spiel, and then we eagerly reached out for the morsels before us.
I piled a few pieces of garlic bread onto my plate, filled the rest with the salad, and then reached out for the pizza.
However, it didn’t seem to be sliced.
“Over here, you use scissors to cut your pizza,” Isabella whispered under her breath. “Watch how Mary and the Espositos do it.”
I observed the three Italians as they picked up the pair of metal kitchen shears before them, grabbed one end of the pizza, and then nonchalantly cut themselves off a slice.
“Huh,” I muttered. “That’s a new one.”
