Free Novel Read

0.5-The Asylum Interviews: Bronx: An Asylum Tales Short Story Page 2


  “What the hell?” Parker said, rubbing the back of his head with one hand, covering his bloody nose with the other.

  “That’s for fucking drugging me and dumping me in the ladies’ room!”

  Parker accepted a clean handkerchief from Bronx, but kept his eyes locked on me. “What? I left you at our table so Dolan could keep an eye on you. You must have wandered in on your own.”

  “Well, you still deserved it for drugging me.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry,” Parker mumbled as he leaned against the wall behind him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were having problems with Jill?”

  His head popped up and he lowered the stained handkerchief from his face. “You knew?”

  The last of my anger seeped from my frame and I stared at one of the few people I counted as a friend. Worry swirled in my stomach as I looked at him. “When you drug your friend so you can escape for a night of sex and seduction, I can guess what’s going on. You also didn’t look too good when you came into the shop. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Parker’s gaze jumped from me over to Bronx, who was standing in the shadows of the alley behind me. He had been silent through the entire exchange, making it easy for me to forget that he was there.

  “Sorry, Parker, this is a new friend of mine, Bronx. He helped me back at the Cock’s Crow when I was still recovering,” I quickly introduced. “He’s a good guy.”

  The incubus nodded. I didn’t miss the somewhat surprised look on the troll’s face as I glanced over my shoulder at him. I had vouched for him as a good friend of mine and I barely knew him. Sometimes, I got a feeling about a person. With Bronx, I didn’t have to worry. Sure, he might have something in his past or some ugly vice, but there wasn’t a person in this world that didn’t. And I felt confident that Bronx’s secrets weren’t half as bad as the types of things I was trying to hide.

  “Maybe we should get going,” Bronx suggested.

  “Sounds good,” I said, looking over at the troll before turning my attention to Parker. “Are you done?”

  “And if I wasn’t? Would you let me stay?” Parker asked, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

  Shoving a hand through my short brown hair, I gave a little laugh. “If you’re asking whether I would choose Jill’s happiness or your health, I’d go with your health. If you needed to, I’d let you go and I’d go in to watch your back.”

  Parker flashed me a sickly smile before heading back out of the alley, with Bronx and me following. “Let’s head back to Asylum. You’ve still got a bottle of Jameson there, right?”

  “Out. We drank it for the autumn equinox,” I said with a sigh, but quickly brightened. “But I do have a bottle of Mordred stashed.”

  Parker jerked to a stop and turned to face me in shock. “Svartálfar whiskey?”

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s not much over one hundred years old,” I warned, trying to tone down his expectations as I pulled my keys out of my pocket. Mordred was extremely hard to get ahold of if you weren’t a Svartálfar, but even then, the stuff wasn’t top-shelf until it crossed the two-century mark.

  “But we are talking dark elf brew,” Parker pressed.

  “Fresh ink?” Bronx inquired.

  I paused by the driver’s side door of my gas-guzzling SUV, once again grateful that I drove it. Considering Bronx’s size, the car was coming in handy for more than my usual camping trips. I tapped the remote, unlocking the doors. “Yep.”

  “What’s he mean?” Parker asked, getting in the car behind the driver’s seat.

  “It means that tattoo artists sometimes get paid in items other than legal tender,” I said with a grin as I got in the car. I looked over at Bronx, who was now sitting in the passenger’s seat. “A dwarf came in a couple months ago for some ink. I got the impression that the dwarf did some weapons work for a dark elf and got paid in a full case of Mordred. Are you in?”

  “Of course. Haven’t had Mordred in years,” Bronx said with a grin.

  Instead of trying to find a comfortable spot to get drunk in the tattoo parlor, I directed Parker and Bronx to the second floor apartment from which I had recently moved. I had left some furniture behind because it was heavily worn and I had a feeling that I would still crash in this apartment from time to time due to the occasional drinking binge. We were all on our second glass of Mordred, letting the burning liquid blaze through our veins before I directed the conversation back around to why Parker had drugged me in the first place.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you and Jill were having problems?” I demanded following an extended silence.

  Parker was stretched out on the floor, propped up on his elbows, while Bronx and I were lounging on the sagging couch. “We’re not. I mean, there’s nothing wrong between us. It’s just . . . I don’t know if I can do this much longer.”

  “Do you still care for her?” Bronx gently asked.

  “I love her!” Parker surged into an upright position, folding his legs before him. “I love her more than anything in the world. She’s sweet and funny and so damn perfect. I love her, but this relationship is killing me, literally.”

  Bronx sat forward a little, resting his forearms on his knees. “What do you mean?”

  “She can’t keep up anymore?” I said.

  Parker shook his head, looking down at his half-empty plastic cup. With a heavy sigh, he downed the last of the Mordred and gave a little shudder as it burned its way down his throat.

  “Incubi aren’t made for monogamous relationships, particularly the type that humans are so infatuated with,” I explained to Bronx when Parker remained silent. “With few exceptions, a single human can’t keep up with what they need.”

  “So you’re not getting enough sex,” Bronx guessed.

  “It’s not like that!” Parker growled, pushing to his knees so that he could get in Bronx’s face. I lurched forward, placing one hand on Bronx’s shoulder and one on Parker’s chest. The troll hadn’t moved and I didn’t think the alcohol had completely clouded Parker’s judgment, but I wasn’t willing to take a chance that he’d suddenly become stupid.

  “Easy, Parke. He’s just trying to understand.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insulting,” Bronx added in a calm voice.

  “No problem,” Parker murmured, sitting down again.

  My heart moved back out of my throat as I returned to my seat and picked up my cup so I could drain it. The alcohol was going to my brain, but I could at least crash here.

  “The truth is that my race doesn’t survive off sex,” Parker softly volunteered. “It’s actually the orgasm from our partner that we feed on. But we do need that, and frequently, or we start to get sick and weak. Too long and the craving starts affecting our decision-making process. An out-of-control incubus or succubus can be dangerous.”

  “And Jill couldn’t keep up,” I said flatly.

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Parker snapped, but the fight quickly went out of him. “She’s always known what I am and knew what it meant, but she still wanted to keep this a closed relationship. I love her so much. I had to agree.”

  “May I ask what happened?” Bronx prodded.

  Parker shrugged. “Same thing that seems to happen in all the relationships I’ve watched. Time. Like any new couple, we started out strong. She had no problem keeping up with what I required to live. But then she got a new job and we moved into a new apartment together. I think stress caused her to slow down sexually. It was a little physically uncomfortable, but she’s worth a little discomfort. But then she caught a really bad cold last week, and . . . it’s been a week, Gage! A fucking week since I fed last from her!”

  “Have you told her?”

  “She knows,” Parker said, grabbing his longish blond hair with both hands. “She knows and she feels guilty. I think that’s why she suggested that
I go out with you tonight. I think she was trying to give me permission, but it’s probably killing her.”

  “If that’s the case, why the hell did you drug me?” I shouted.

  “Because Jill was your friend before we started dating. You were against the relationship before it started because you said it wouldn’t work. I didn’t think you’d let me go out and pleasure other women, knowing that it was going to hurt Jill.”

  I flopped back against the sofa and stared up at the cracked and water-stained ceiling. The truth was that I had seen this coming for more than a year and I had been secretly hoping that Parker would find a way to wear her down so that she wouldn’t be so set on a closed relationship. While Parker might not understand them, he’d been willing to try to make Jill happy. I did have a preference for monogamous relationships when I bothered to try to date someone, but incubi aren’t built for them.

  “Both you and Jill are my friends. I’m not going to sacrifice your health for her happiness. She might be hurt that you’re seducing other women, but it’s going to hurt her a lot more if she knows that you’re suffering, particularly if you’re suffering because of her.”

  “Thanks,” Parker said.

  Bronx shifted on the couch next to me, leaning forward so that he could put his cup on the scarred coffee table. “Did you get what you needed at the club?”

  “Yes, got six before you dragged me out of there.”

  My head popped up and I narrowed my gaze on Parker. “You got six different women to orgasm while you sang that damn song?”

  “And I only touched two of them,” he bragged. “You want to know how I did it?”

  “Yes,” Bronx said.

  “No!” I snapped at the same time. “You make it hard on the rest of us that don’t have your magical incubus sex powers.”

  Parker snorted. “Sure, I made them orgasm, but not one of them can remember my face.”

  “I doubt that.” It wasn’t like me to pout, but it was hard knowing that at times I was competing with a sexed-up race like incubi. It also didn’t help that he had the face of a movie star and the body of an underwear model.

  “They don’t, I’m serious. It’s a defense mechanism. Any woman that I feed off of doesn’t remember my face as the person who gave her the orgasm. Otherwise, we’d be stalked and hunted for what we can do.”

  “What about Jill?” Bronx asked.

  Parker reclined on the floor again, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. “I got to know her before we had sex. She had memories of me set in her brain that couldn’t be wiped. Her memories after sex might get a little hazy, but she still knows it was me.”

  Sliding to the edge of the couch, I reached for the bottle of Mordred and held it up to the dim light from single floor lamp in the corner. There was only enough left to fill one more glass. I presented the bottle to Parker and Bronx, offering to split it with them, but they both declined. More for me. I was pouring the last of the whiskey into my glass, knowing that this would do me in for the evening, when Bronx spoke up again.

  “How long will tonight’s feeding keep you?”

  “A few days at most,” Parker said, the excitement draining out of his voice. “After nearly starving, I need some time to build up my health and stamina again.”

  “And then you’re back in the same boat,” I said. I hated to be the voice of doom and gloom, but I didn’t want to see both of my friends get hurt more if they stretched out the inevitable. “You can’t continue this way. It’s not fair to either of you. You can’t change what you are, but Jill can change her demands on you. Talk to her, and if she doesn’t change her mind on the type of relationship you’re in, I think you need to end it.”

  Parker glared at me. “Thanks for the pep talk, Gage.”

  “You want me to sugarcoat it? You want me to lie? Fine. Everything is going to be fine. Just close your eyes and pretend real hard.” I drained half the glass before flopping back against the couch in a deep slouch. My body was demanding sleep after my long day in the shop, but my companions weren’t moving.

  “What if he could change?” Bronx asked.

  I raised my eyebrow at the troll. At least I think I did. The alcohol was hitting me hard now and I wasn’t sure if all my muscles were still under my command. Everything felt relaxed and mellow under the growing warmth that was spreading from my stomach.

  “How?” I asked.

  “Tattoo.”

  Parker perked up, getting excited at the potential prospect of saving his relationship. I wasn’t so excited. I didn’t like the idea of a person trying to change the basic essence of who they are through a potion and a little ink in the skin. Well, I didn’t like the idea of a friend doing it. The rest of the world could do whatever the fuck it wanted. I wasn’t its mother.

  “You can do that?” Parker inquired.

  “Not sure,” I cut in, trying to rein in Parker’s enthusiasm. I turned my attention back to Bronx, who was tapping the fat fingers of his left hand on the arm of the sofa. “What do you have in mind?”

  Bronx turned his attention to Parker. “You’ve said that you feed off orgasms. Do you get nourishment from anything else?”

  “It is more complicated than I described it. Yes, I can get some nourishment off the little things like a passionate kiss or touch, but it’s not as filling as an orgasm. I also don’t have to be the cause of the orgasm, but I’ve always been more of a doer than just a watcher.”

  The troll looked at me now, his eyes wide with excitement. “We could stir a potion that amplifies the effects of the little things, empowering the kisses and the touches. His girlfriend could then keep up with his needs better.”

  I put my cup on the table and rubbed my forehead, trying to clear my thoughts. Bronx’s suggestion sounded good. Really good. But was it that easy?

  “What would you use?” I asked.

  “A combination of potion and design. The ingredients would include anise, bayberry leaves, and sage.”

  I nodded. All of those ingredients were linked to the strengthening of passion, vigor, and in some ways stamina. “Dried snakeskin and red pepper could also help. It would all need to be dried and burned over knotted cotton cord.”

  “And the design could be the enflamed heart.”

  A smile tweaked the corners of my mouth as I looked at my newfound friend. “The Crone’s Charm Book.”

  “Of course.”

  “Nice.” I lay back against the sofa, putting my feet up on the coffee table before I closed my eyes. The Crone’s Charm Book was a really old sourcebook for potions, one that a lot of tattoo artists cut their teeth on. It was similar to a grammar school reader like Go Dog Go for tattoo artists. However, most were quick to shun it for flashier ingredients and less complicated potions as they became more experienced. There was something comforting in the fact that Bronx still pulled aspects from The Crone’s Charm Book, particularly since I liked to use it. I had learned long ago that sometimes the old ways were the best.

  “I’d use the potion in the colors for the enflamed heart, but use cinquefoil in the black ink to do the outline,” I suggested because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut now that the idea was stuck in my brain. “We’re trying to change some of his basic chemistry. The extra boost is going to be needed, I think.”

  “Agreed.”

  Parker jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together. My head swam for a second as I tried to follow his abrupt movements. “Excellent. Let’s get started!”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

  “Let’s get started on the tattoo. You two have it all worked out.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course.”

  “But this would change what you are.”

  “Not really. Just modify it a little bit.” Parker was still grinning at me with new hope. “Besides, it’
s not like I have much choice, as you so plainly stated. If Jill and I are going to make it, something has to change. I love her enough to try to change for her.”

  “Fantastic. Wait until tomorrow,” I grumbled, closing my eyes again.

  “No! I’ve got money and I want to do it now. I want to start fresh with Jill now.”

  “Parker, I’m happy you’ve got a new plan, but I’m plowed. I couldn’t tattoo you now if I wanted to. I don’t have any appointments until tomorrow night. Come by in the afternoon and we’ll get it done.”

  “Will you do it?” I opened one eye to find that Parker was now staring down Bronx, who was looking more than a little unsure. His gaze darted to me before looking at the incubus again.

  “He’s been drinking, Parke. Let it go,” I mumbled.

  “He’s a troll! He’s not drunk. He’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not intoxicated, but I don’t currently have a shop to work in or all the supplies I would need,” Bronx replied.

  “Gage does! You can use his shop.”

  I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. There was no getting around this. Parker had the idea stuck in his head and wasn’t going to let it go until someone stabbed him with a needle. I knew I was far too drunk to take care of it, but I also didn’t want him walking out of here and heading to some other tattoo parlor with half an idea stuck in his head and a wad of cash.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my keys and threw them in Parker’s general direction. He’d catch them or at least find them. “If Bronx agrees to do it, fine. He can use my shop and supplies. Just clean and lock up afterward, then bring me back my keys. If not, I promise to do it tomorrow when I get into the shop.”

  I don’t know what was decided. Parker said something to me, but it was too late. I was sliding down the black hole burrowed in my soul by the Mordred. It had been a long day, I had been drugged, and now I was feeling drunk and relaxed. I’d deal with tomorrow when tomorrow came.