Page 3

Chapter 3

Jasper

S omehow, Jasper survived the night on his own. He was still awake, staring hollow-eyed at the TV screen, when Sasha returned, obviously debauched. She hooked her fingers to dangle her heels in her hand, and her hair was flat in the back. Her cheeks were flushed, her skin had a healthy glow, and when she smiled, she had the kind of beauty that men fought over. Most of the time, being an incubus sucked, but Jasper had family now—messy, sometimes problematic family, but he loved them. Usually.

“Lost Malcolm?” he asked.

Sasha laughed. “I don’t think he’ll be back until tomorrow.”

They all hunted differently—Jasper was tentative and awkward, Sasha was efficient and clean and made quick escapes, and Malcolm was self-indulgent. He liked to preen and be petted all night long. Declan, alone, did not hunt at all. Rather, he called a service and never booked the same person twice.

“And did you have a good night?”

“Great night,” she said. He was glad she didn’t elaborate. The last thing he needed was to think about sex.

“Good.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, dropping her heels by the door and crossing the hardwood floor on light feet. “I’m gonna snag a shower. Get some rest, Jas.” She’d squeezed his shoulder on the way past.

He listened to the water running through the pipes overhead, his thoughts distant and foggy. When he’d been human, he remembered saying he’d kill for a taco. He hadn’t meant it, but that was how it felt now—he would do absolutely anything to feel full again. And that made him dangerous.

Jasper turned up the television and sank down into the couch, dragging a blanket around him. It smelled like incubus—not at all appealing.

After he heard Sasha turn the shower off and drop into bed in the next room over, Jasper didn’t go to his own room. He might be able to sleep on the couch, with a cartoon sitcom about a depressed horse playing in the background, but if he went to his own bed and laid alone in the silence, he had no chance. He turned the volume down so it wouldn’t bother her, and curled up with his head on the arm rest.

In the morning, getting up was just a matter of rolling off the couch, changing his wrinkled clothes, and brushing his teeth. He’d hardly slept at all.

But Sasha said Poppy at Silverstone’s Emporium could help. He trusted her; he had to. He didn’t think he could keep on like this, and he sure didn’t have the stomach left to feed the way his siblings did. If he fed from someone, he wanted to know they wanted him too, and there was just no way to tell if that was sincere.

The emporium’s website said they opened at ten a.m. With nowhere else to be on a Sunday morning, Jasper got there early. He parked the flashy yellow Tesla his father had bought him for his last birthday on a side street, fed the meter, and made his way around the block to peer in the window.

Generally speaking, most humans weren’t aware of the paranormal underground that slithered all around them. Silverstone’s Emporium was a little hole-in-the-wall shop that from the outside, seemed catered to the humans who bought into the new-age idea that if you rubbed the right crystal on your face, it would solve all your skin problems.

Shit, Jasper wasn’t being fair. Incubi didn’t get sick, didn’t get pimples, and could hide any flaws behind a glamour. Whatever humans did to make themselves feel better and cared for was worthwhile. A witch could sell them a special rock (with an even more special enchantment) and make a buck while their human clientele remained none the wiser. What did it matter how the thing worked, so long as it did? He was just in a sour fucking mood.

At nine-forty-five, Jasper paced in front of Silverstone’s window. Five minutes later, he leaned in to inspect the wares, wrapping his jacket tighter around his middle. There were shops like this in most cities, he guessed. Even if humans couldn’t see the magic around them, they wanted to believe it was there. Hell, Jasper had wanted to believe in magic too, before it’d hit him in the face like a sack of bricks, landing him with pointed horns, a spiked tale, and creepy glowing demon eyes.

Okay, he didn’t have to show those off all the time, but going from thinking you were a normal (or normal-adjacent) kid to sprouting goddamn horns was an entire fucking journey.

Nine-fifty-two, and one of the commuters on the sidewalk stopped in his tracks a few feet from Jasper. Freezing in place, Jasper turned to see the man staring at him, pupils dilated. Since he’d decided not to feed, Jasper’d rarely left their penthouse. It occurred to him there on the sidewalk that the pheromones he put off must’ve been overwhelming. Most people looked hungrily at him and moved on—it usually took some small effort on an incubi’s part to coax a person in as their desire warred with their instinctual fear of demons.

But this guy stopped and watched him. When he approached, it was with a predatory grin. “Hey, kid.”

Jasper fought the urge to grimace, twisting it instead into a smile. “Hello.”

“You want to get out of here? Find somewhere quiet?” His eyes darted left, toward an alley in the center the block. Gross.

Jasper frowned. “Like that alley? Maybe a dingy hotel?”

The man nodded. He licked his chapped lips. He was handsome enough—average looking and clean-cut with a body a little soft from sitting in a desk most of the time. Jasper usually liked that—when bodies were soft, or had scars, or weren’t carved specifically for the purposes of hunting down sexual partners. But the whole point was not taking advantage, and this guy didn’t know what he was doing. Or if he did, that was every bit as bad.

“No,” Jasper said firmly. “Thank you though.”

Jasper turned back to the window. The guy stepped in and reached for his arm. His fingers, short but firm, dug into the hollow of Jasper’s elbow. “Let’s get out of here,” he growled.

Jasper jerked his arm back. He might be the least of Elrith’s sons and a poor excuse for an incubus, but he was still a demon, not some kid to be shoved around by a random corporate-drone passerby.

“I said no,” Jasper snapped. “Now move along.”

The guy hesitated, weighing his options, so Jasper flashed a little fang, let his eyes glow red, and he scurried away. When Jasper composed himself in the window’s reflection, he was flushed, wide-eyed. His breath escaped him in a low, steady flow as he watched his shoulders sink. He wanted this to be over.

Ten o’clock hit, and the store didn’t open. He didn’t see anyone shuffling around within. Frowning, he checked the door to be sure. Maybe it unlocked magically.

No such luck.

Ten o’five, and he tried calling. Nobody picked up.

And then, at ten o’seven, he leaned into the door with both hands cupped to block out the light from the street, and someone behind him cleared her throat.

“Hi,” she chirped.

He spun, staring down at her. She was a petite, round-cheeked woman with a halo of dark curls. Her skirt was purple—more a patchwork of scarves than anything truly sewn. She had a silver ring on every finger.

“So sorry to keep you waiting.” The way she spoke, the timbre of her voice floating up and down as if completely untethered, made it hard to focus on what she was saying. Or, you know, maybe he was starving. “Poppy Silverstone, at your service.”

She stuck out her hand. Dazed, he took it and shook. “Uh, Jasper Jones.”

Poppy clicked her tongue. “Unfortunate.”

Jasper shrugged. “Not as bad as Malcolm McKittack, but I get what you mean.” As soon as he’d learned what alliteration was in seventh grade, it’d bugged him. Felt silly. But Jones was his mother’s name—the only one he’d had any right to until he’d hit puberty—and by that point, it’d felt like his name was, well, his name.

Then his mom had died, and her name was how he could hold onto her. He’d thought, for a while, that it’d help him hold onto his humanity too, but no dice there.

Malcolm was the only one of Elrith’s kids—well, that Jasper knew—who’d changed his name. Malcolm McKittack was the name of a special kind of douche, though. Jasper Jones had grown on him.

Letting go of Poppy’s hand, he stuck his in his jacket pockets. “I’m Sasha Washington’s brother. She, uh, she said you might be able to help me.”

With pursed lips, Poppy looked him over. Then, she dug out her keys and opened the door. “You’d better come inside if we’re going to talk about your kind of problem.”

He followed her in, shutting the door. With all the purple satin curtains hanging everywhere, the whole place was shadowy and strange. It reeked of bergamot and incense.

“So, what’s the problem? Stopped up? Overzealous? Food all going to ash in your mouth? You know, it’s not uncommon for incubi to lose interest in regular food after?—”

“It’s not that,” Jasper croaked. He raked his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. His head felt warm and floaty, like a hot air balloon. Shit, this was harder than he’d thought it’d be. “I, uh... I’m—I’m not up for, you know, feeding .” By the end, his voice fell to a whisper.

Behind the counter, Poppy frowned. She crossed her arms. The little pucker between her brows was downright adorable.

“So you’re feeling weak? How long’s it been?”

“A month?”

Poppy blinked, her eyes so wide he could see the whites around her light green irises. Still, shock wasn’t judgment. “And before that?”

“Another month?”

“Is it—” She bit her lip. At least he wasn’t the only one awkward about it. “Is it because you can’t , or?—”

“I just don’t want to? Well, it’s not that I don’t want to, but I don’t want to make anybody—and there’s no—no way to not... Well, it’s like having sex with someone who’s drunk. It’s not consensual. They don’t—can’t—know what they want. I—I can’t keep doing...” He shrugged and stared down at the glass counter full of baubles between them. Fuck if he wasn’t already the worst person in the world.

“Okay.” Poppy leaned forward, her arms crossed under her chest. “First off, it’s not like you’re a vampire or anything. Some people say everybody should try having sex with an incubus at least once in their lives.”

Jasper grimaced, shrinking down into his shoulders. The exchange of commodity wasn’t much better. Everything boiled down to sex, and he wanted... he wanted someone to have feelings for him that weren’t based on pheromones and glamour. Did wanting some kind of genuine intimacy make him a bad incubus? He knew what Elrith would’ve said to that. No point asking.

“Have you thought about hiring a sex worker?” Poppy asked. “I mean, Sasha says Elrith’s got all kinds of cash to throw around. And isn’t that what your brother Declan does?”

His dad was a big man in the demon community. He made deals and got shit done. Elrith had more money than the Catholic church, and he was loose with it, which left an awful lot of freedom for Jasper to hide out and eat ice cream. Wasn’t all bad.

But he couldn’t imagine his father’s face if he said he wanted to hire a sex worker. Respectable incubi didn’t need to pay to feed. That was why he and Declan had had their falling out. And, again— “I don’t think that’s for me. I just don’t want to be hungry. That’s it. Can you help with that?”

Poppy’s lips twisted to the side and she shrugged. “Not really? Well, not here , but I might know of one thing that can help you.” With one cocked finger, she beckoned him closer. “So you’re sure you want an out? Want to feel full without the rat race?”

Jasper leaned across the counter. Catching her eye, he nodded. “Definitely.”

“Okay. So there’s a yellow flower that grows in the Poisonwood Forest at the base of Grandmother Mountain. If you find it and eat it, you’ll have guilt-free sustenance forever. Won’t have to seduce an unwitting human again.”

“Really?” Jasper’s smile grew. It couldn’t be that easy. If it were, why wasn’t everyone taking it?

Hells gates, he did not want to ponder the answer to that too hard. Couldn’t be that they liked feeding that much.

“Really. Silverstone honor.” She held up two fingers. “Give me your phone.”

She did a quick Google search and took a screenshot of an unfamiliar yellow blossom—to be fair, Jasper didn’t know much about wildflowers—and handed it back to him.

“That’s what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you,” Jasper breathed. “Thank you so much, Poppy.”

“Any time, kiddo.” She flashed him a bright grin. “Good luck munching grass.”

He was out the door by ten-fifteen and back in his car. A hike through the woods was harder than picking something up at the store, but it was an answer. Even if Jasper wasn’t the most outdoorsy guy around, he could manage a walk. After he got a new pair of hiking boots.

The store clerk had assured him that Timberlands were the very best for a mountain hike, and Jasper wasn’t taking any chances. He even stopped by the park’s service station to pick up a map of the Poisonwood Forest and the trails around Grandmother Mountain in case he lost signal.

But two hours into his hike, and he worried he was lost anyway. Who the hell thought looking at a thing on a map from above was the same as actually standing in the middle of a bunch of freaking trees? His phone had a compass, which gave him a vague sense of wrongness he wasn’t sure how to fix, and other than that, it was totally useless.

If he could find high enough ground, he could at least see the mountain, so he kept marching up, and up. The arches of his feet cramped, and he realized the jeans he’d worn were way too tight for climbing. That, and the cold tickled his exposed knee where they’d been ripped by the manufacturer.

Still, he could pull this off. He had to. Then, everything would be great. He’d... he’d never sleep with anyone again. That kind of sucked, but at least he wouldn’t be hurting anybody. He could totally live with that. Totally.

It wasn’t until he got up a particularly steep bit that he saw, on a hillside beneath him, a scattering of yellow flowers, right there in what would’ve been his path if he’d kept on walking.

He scrambled back down the rock face and crouched in front of them. They smelled vaguely sweet, their blossoms small in the early spring.

And they’d fix everything.

They were maybe the most perfect flowers ever.

Jasper plucked one off of its stem and shoved it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, gave it a minute.

He didn’t feel anything change. He was still starving, so fucking hungry. This had to work.

So he ate another. Then he ate five more.

And then his stomach began to cramp.

He hadn’t felt pain like that since before he’d become a demon. His stomach roiled, churning and angry, and Jasper gasped. For a moment, he thought he was going to puke, but his throat was too tight. Swollen shut. He was sweating hard.

This was all wrong. He jerked his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sasha.

But he had no signal. The call failed, and he tipped forward and fell on his face on a hill of wildflowers.