The Succubus In My Closet

Chapter 8: A Succubus's Fear

The following weeks passed in a dizzying, golden blur.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Erick felt like the protagonist of his own life rather than an invisible bystander. His dates with Vanessa were effortless. They shared quiet dinners at dimly lit Italian bistros, took midnight walks along the city riverwalk, and exchanged flirty messages throughout the workday.

Vanessa was everything Erick had ever dreamed of: brilliant, independent, and disarmingly tender. When she laughed, her hazel eyes crinkled at the corners with genuine warmth. When she reached across a table to brush her fingers against his knuckles, Erick felt a profound, grounding electric current that made the rest of the world fade into static.

It was real. It had to be real. The only complication was the secret living inside his apartment.

“She’s coming over tonight,” Erick announced on Friday afternoon, pacing across the living room as he adjusted the placement of two wine glasses on the dining table. “Just for dinner. A few hours. That’s all.”

Pearl stood by the kitchen island, clutching a wooden spoon to her chest. She wore a pair of Erick’s oversized cotton socks and an emerald-green sweater he had bought for her. Her violet eyes, usually shining with child-like curiosity, were shadowed with an unfamiliar, anxious hesitation. Erick had mentioned Vanessa before, but Pearl had not expected that his relationship with her would span to this extent.

“I will hide,” Pearl murmured softly, her fingers tightening around the spoon. “I will be in the closet until she leaves”

“I’ll call for you when she is gone,” Erick said, wincing slightly at how cold the words sounded in his own mouth. He stepped over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I just... I can’t risk her seeing you.”

Pearl lowered her head, looking down at the polished hardwood. “I understand, Master. Your happiness with the mortal woman is what you desire. I will not ruin it.”

A sharp prick of guilt jabbed Erick’s ribs. Over the past month, Pearl had cooked for him, cheered when he returned from work, and shared the quietest, most vulnerable pieces of herself with him. Calling her a mere secret felt dirty, yet the alternative – telling his corporate manager that he lived with a summoned demoness – was pure lunacy.

“Thank you, Pearl,” Erick whispered. “It’s just for a few hours.”

At exactly seven o’clock, a firm knock sounded at the front door.

Pearl gave Erick one last, lingering look before slipping silently into the bedroom and shutting the door.

Erick took a deep breath, smoothed the front of his collared shirt, and swung the door open.

Vanessa stood in the hallway. She wore a fitted burgundy sweater dress that accentuated her athletic figure, paired with sleek black ankle boots. Her chestnut hair was styled in soft waves, and in her hands, she held a bottle of vintage Pinot Noir.

“You look beautiful,” Erick said, his lips curling into a smile.

“And you look like you spent twenty minutes picking out which shirt to wear,” she teased, stepping past him into the entryway. Her crisp apple fragrance wafted past his nostrils. “And you somehow ended up with the wrong one. Something smells amazing in here.”

“Pan-seared salmon and garlic mashed potatoes,” Erick said, taking her coat and the wine bottle. “Courtesy of a few new culinary experiments.”

Courtesy of Pearl, who spent hours prepping the garlic butter, his conscience whispered.

The dinner flowed with effortless charm. They sat across from each other, trading stories about childhood mishaps, embarrassing high school memories, and office politics. Vanessa was a captivating conversationalist, but Erick noticed a subtle, razor-sharp edge to her attentiveness. Her eyes occasionally flicked toward the corners of the ceiling, the baseboards, and the sealed hallway door, absorbing every micro-detail of the apartment with calculated precision.

“You live alone, right, Erick?” Vanessa asked casually, taking a slow sip of her wine.

“Yeah,” Erick replied, cutting a piece of salmon. “Just me. Have for seven years.”

“No pets? No eccentric roommates?” She tilted her head, her gaze piercing through the candlelight. “The air in here has a distinct scent. Like... exotic lilies. And burnt sugar.”

Vanessa’s gaze slowly drifted back towards him until she found his eyes. Erick’s heart flipped in his chest, but he forced an easy, self-deprecating laugh. “Scented candles. An attempt to make the place smell less like a bachelor pad before you arrived.”

Vanessa smiled, dismissing the momentary tension that very instant. “Clever man.”

By ten o’clock, the wine bottle was empty. Vanessa stood by the doorway, her coat draped over her shoulders.

“I had a wonderful night, Erick,” she said. “Thanks for dinner… and the company.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Erick offered.

“That I wouldn’t mind,” Vanessa said, turning on her heel. Erick closed the door and walked up to her side. The experience felt surreal. He did not wish to spoil the moment with needless remarks, so he let the silence settle comfortably between them as he walked her to the parking space. Vanessa unlocked her car.

“I enjoyed the company too,” Erick said, not sure it was the right thing to say. “Every minute of it.”

Vanessa turned to face him. She stepped closer into his space, reaching out to cup his face with her warm and soft hands. She kissed him.

For a second, Erick forgot about the chalk circle, the Nether plane, and the price he was paying for that moment. He was just a man kissing a woman he had fallen in love with.

“This is how you show it,” Vanessa murmured against his lips. She slowly stepped back. Her expression was dreamy. “Don’t be late tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am,” Erick said with a casual salute.

He watched her drive off before going back in. Once he got inside the apartment, he locked the deadbolt, clicked the chain in place, and let out a long, shuddering breath.

He had pulled it off.

“Pearl?” he called out, heading toward the bedroom. “She’s gone. You can come out now.”

The closet door cracked open.

Pearl stepped into the bedroom, but she didn’t possess her usual sweet, bouncing energy. Her complexion was pale, almost ghostly, and her violet eyes were dilated to the point where they were nearly pure black. Her hands were shaking against the fabric of her oversized sweater.

“Pearl? What’s wrong?” Erick asked, rushing forward and reaching for her. “Did something happen in there?”

“You must never let her inside this home again, Master,” Pearl whispered, her voice trembling.