I Refuse To Fall, When They Still Exist

Rio has been hunting for angels since she can remember; travelling from state to state since she was born. When a shadowey succubus nearly takes away her breath, she has to fight to survive. And fight off her desires for the mysterious emo kid that helped her out.


8. Chapter 6

I would have stared, deer-in-the-headlights style, for hours, as the succubus ripped the flimsy wood apart, if it hadn't been for Dad's bowie knife slipping free of my grip, and clattering to the floor.

The loud clatter brought me to my senses, as I backed away into the living room. I heard one, booming crash, as it finally got through. My hands scuttled like caramel-covered crabs, as I searched for a weapon. The bowie knife was too far away for me to get it and not have my breath stolen, so I had to find a substitute. my hands found the holster on Dad's camping chair, and I felt the gun inside.

The smokey edge of the succubus was just visible, as it shambled through the kitchen towards me. Succubi walk just like the zombies in Shaun Of The Dead, but float about half a foot in the air at the same time. Kinda like Night Of The Living Dead, with a bloodstained twist of Braindead and a delicate, if not slightly artistically done, brushing of Michael Jackson's Thriller and Ghosts, by the same artist. Love him or hate him, you can't deny that he knew what he was talking about when it came to the True world.

My hands fumbled for the gun, scraping hard against the velcro. I knew I had one chance to get it. Finally pulling it out, I pointed it straight at the succubus' head, and pulled the trigger.


Oh shit! But I knew it was loaded. It was the first one I loaded when I restocked the ammo. Why wasn't it fucking firing? Desperate, as the succubus was about 3 feet away from me, I picked up the bowl of Holy water that I was using to scrub the stakes, and threw the whole thing in its face.

It screamed, as the Holy water ate away at its face and neck. The smoke coming off it was incredible, before it subsided, and it bellowed a long, low call of rage.

That sound is pure zombie, 100%, through-and-through. The vocal chords are dead, so the fouled air just whistles through its throat. The sound it made, like a cow in agony, or that honking noise you make when you're out of breath with a tearing stitch in your sides, was like something from a nightmare. When someone hears that sound, it's usually the last thing they hear. Succubi are eerily quick when they prepare to go in for the kill.

My clumsy fingers found the explanation for the gun, as I flipped the safety catch off, and pulled the trigger again. The first bullet went very awry, smashing through the far wall. It bellowed again, as it lurched/glided after me. I had gotten some distance between me and it, whilst it was being dissolved by the Holy water.

I fired again, and this time I struck gold. A nice, dollar-sized hole opened up in its gut, as it lunged for me. I fired again, blindly aiming for the heart. If the heart or brain isn't intact after burial, then the deceased becomes a succubus. I was going for the heart, as that seemed the most likely.

A huge hole opened in it's chest, right over the heart, and clear enough for me to see right through it. Clearly the heart was intact when buried, but the brain wasn't. I backed up against the opposite wall, aimed true and bold at the succubus' forehead, and pulled the trigger a good 3 or 4 times., as it made the lunge that would drive it in for the kill.

It fell on me. A huge mass of flesh, fat, blood and that smokey stuff. It stank to high heaven, as I forced it off and onto the floor, where it lay face down. The back of its head was undamaged, as its smokey shroud fell away. Succubi always lose that smokey stuff after they die again. Now, it was just a corpse. A corpse with shoulder-length, Jasper Cullen blonde hair, and eyes that were three shades of green combined. I bet, if I looked on his left ankle, I'd see Mom's name, his name, and my name, tattooed on three ivory ribbons encircling a rose-adorned heart.

I'd shot him.

I ran into the opposite corner, sliding into a shaking, stinking, sobbing ball. The sobs turned into one word, repeated over and over again.


He didn't move. Dad's body just lay there, unmoving.

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