Succubus in the City Read Online Free PDF Page B

just bad luck. She scoffed at some of the other concubines, those who complained about never having had love or a man of their own.
    “They eat every day,” she would say. “They have a home, with thick carpets and even a bed, and slaves to clean and a bathhouse with lilies in the water and they’re whining? We eat meat three or four times a week and cheese every day and we have beer and wine, morning and evening. We are very fortunate, girl, never forget that.”
    And she was right. I’ve lived over three thousand years, and I’ve seen what life is like for most people on this planet. And it sucks. And women usually have it worse, married off too young, having baby after baby until they die in childbirth, eating only the leftovers after the husband and sons have eaten their fill, and still having to work the land or weave the cloth. Even today this is true in most of the world, so I try never to forget what I learned from my mother. I relish the good things I have, and I appreciate the fact that most women in the world do not live in a beautiful apartment (or palace) or have enough to eat every day, let alone food at the best restaurants in New York.
    Anyway, minor princesses like me were prized applicants for the Temple service. I knew that’s what I wanted even when I was very young, so I became an acolyte at the age of seven and a novice at twelve. By sixteen I was a full priestess and was being initiated into the deep secrets of written cuneiform. Then Satan came along and offered me immortality, eternal youth and beauty, and power over men. All I had to do was sign over my immortal soul. I did take a few days to consider the offer, but being a succubus sounded very much like being a Priestess of Ishtar, only with better options. Before the week was out I’d signed the contract with Hell. With a little extra bargaining, of course, demanding my escape clause for love and a few additional perks not included in the boilerplate.
    Anyway, if I can learn to use MagicMirror, someone who was born in the fifteenth century certainly should be able to master it. I have little patience with Renaissance and Age of Reason types who are constantly confounded by technology while an oldster like me can figure out how to download the shareware to manage my schedule from my laptop.
    Now, if I could just remember to sync my Treo and my computer more than once a month I’d be in great shape.
    Nothing new on MagicMirror, like I said. Well, it was Sunday. Everyone had been busy Saturday night, and those who weren’t weren’t going to admit it and show up online like losers when they should have been out at a party or club or something. No one would start posting about the weekend until tonight. Except a few really boring Wrath posts about demons who started fights on Saturday night and couldn’t wait to wash off the blood to post about it.
    Starting a fight in a bar on a Saturday night is nothing to brag about in my opinion. Mortals manage that well enough themselves without demonic intervention. I just do not understand demons who have to show off when they haven’t even done anything. Satan has to praise their efforts, too. She feels it’s good management practice, even when the Wrath in question merely escalated a shouting match to a fist-fight. “My minions always should feel that they are valued and their efforts are appreciated,” She has said many times.
    I only turned to e-mail after the blog, and almost missed the one actual e-mail in the pile of spam I had to clean out. To my shock, there was an e-mail from someone who wanted to talk to me about a missing person. Probably one of my guys, and I did not want to be traced. In fact, I take great care that no one has any idea of where the guys go, and that no one who sees them leave with me can remember me. And I’m very, very good, though today’s technology does sometimes worry me.
    There’s more magic to being a succubus than sending a creep up in flames. I