I Accidentally Summoned A Succubus

Marcus's apartment smelled like ambition and burnt incense.

Which is to say: the usual.

I arrived late on purpose. I always do. Gives everyone time to get half-drunk and let their guards down. No one probes too deeply when they've already moved past polite.

The living room was half candlelight, half clutter—an open floor plan designed to feel like a modern temple to academia. Exposed brick. Handwoven throw blankets. Art books on esoteric symbolism that no one actually reads. Classic Marcus.

"James," he greeted, lifting his glass in a dramatic toast. "You made it."

"Don't act surprised. You'd have texted three more times if I hadn't."

Raph elbowed Marcus with a smirk. "Told you she'd dress like that if James showed."

Linda shot him a glare, but it was too slow to be innocent.

"She always looks at Weller like she's seconds from crawling in his lap," he added under his breath.

Linda didn't deny it. She just sipped her wine and turned that smile back on me.

She wanted me. That wasn't news. She wasn't subtle, and I wasn't blind. But I also wasn't interested—and that was the part she didn't understand.

Attraction, I could manage. Obsession, I could dismantle. But entitlement? That was the thing I couldn't stand.

Linda was attractive, hot as the guys called it. But she believed that every man she wanted should think themselves lucky to have her attention. While it helped her confidence and self importance, it didn't work for me. 

"I told them you'd come," she said, tapping her glass against her teeth like it was a cigarette. "You like watching people do stupid things."

I didn't deny it.

There were five of us total. Me, Marcus, Linda, a guy from linguistics named Raph, and a visiting psych fellow named Jen who'd already kicked off her shoes and looked too relaxed for someone surrounded by open flame and Latin texts.

The summoning book sat in the center of the floor—antique, heavy, open to a page marked with Marcus's red pen. I clocked it immediately.

Invocatio: Subjugatio Carnalis.

Invocation of Carnal Subjugation.

In simpler terms: how to summon a sex demon.

Linda held up the book theatrically. "So, who's ready to meet their eternal lover tonight? I call dibs on the hottest one."

"Not how it works," Marcus said, settling on the floor with a fresh pour. "Each person's supposed to summon their own. One succubus, one incubus. Equal opportunity for self-inflicted delusion."

"So we all just jerk off into the void and hope someone hot shows up?" Raph asked. "Sounds like Tinder."

They laughed.

I didn't.

Jen was drawing a chalk circle on the hardwood. "Do we actually have to do the blood part?"

"Yes," Marcus said. "Symbolic bond. It's not a ritual without a sacrifice."

"It's a drop, not a goat," Linda said, waving her wine. "You'll live."

She looked at me then. That sharp little smile women use when they're about to cross a line they've been toeing all night.

"You're awfully quiet, Professor Weller. Let me guess—you already have a pet succubus chained to your radiator at home."

I didn't respond. Just took a slow sip of scotch and let the silence do the work.

Linda tilted her head. "No denial? That's hot."

Marcus tried to redirect. "So. Everyone gets a candle, a chant, and a drop of blood. We follow the instructions and see who gets lucky."

Jen raised an eyebrow. "You say that like you think something's actually going to happen."

"I say it like I want to see who loses their shit first," he said, smiling.

That got another round of laughter.

Linda pushed off the couch and strutted over, her hips doing more talking than her mouth now.

She passed behind me deliberately. Close. Her fingers brushed the back of my neck like it was an accident.

"You gonna sit this one out?" she purred. "Or are you afraid your succubus might be too much woman for you?"

I met her gaze. "You're confusing fear with disinterest."

That landed harder than I expected.

Her smile twitched. The kind of twitch that usually comes before a slap. Or a mistake.

"Well," she said, a little too loudly. "If the man of the hour won't fuck me, maybe a demon will."

Raph gave a low whistle, trying to break the tension. "Jesus, Linda."

Jen coughed into her drink.

Marcus cleared his throat. "Okay, that's... bold. But sure. Let's summon some sex demons and see who they like best."

Linda flopped into the circle like it was a stage. "Fine. I'll take the incubus. You all can fight over the succubus."

Marcus rolled his eyes. "You're drunk."

She raised her glass. "And horny."

More laughter. Less genuine now.

I stayed standing.

I wasn't playing their game. But I wasn't leaving either.

"James?" Marcus looked up. "You in?"

I studied the setup. Candles. Salt ring. Open book. The circle was technically correct—at least by the book's standards. The Latin wasn't mangled. The invocation symbols were drawn accurately.

Too accurately.

"Fine," I said. "I'll read."

They cheered like we were about to do karaoke.

I crouched by the book, knees inside the circle, and let my eyes scan the page.

The syllables hit something familiar.

Invocamus te, domina concupiscentiae…

We call you, lady of desire.

They thought it was a party trick. I knew better.

I reached into my coat pocket. Pulled a small folding blade I kept on me out of habit.

"Whoa," Jen said, raising an eyebrow. "Real knife?"

I didn't answer. Just flicked it open.

The steel bit into my thumb with practiced ease. A single bead of blood welled, round and clean.

Linda leaned in. "Oooh. Look at you. So dramatic."

I let the blood fall.

One drop.

Straight into the center of the circle.

The moment it hit the salt—

The candles flared.

Not flickered—flared. Heatless. White. Wrong.

Linda gasped. Jen shrieked.

Then the lights snapped off.

"Okay," Marcus said. "What the fuck."

No one answered.

Because we were all looking toward the hallway.

And we all heard the moan.

Linda laughed nervously. "You guys set this up, right? Like, Marcus? Did you hire someone?"

But he was pale.

"No," he said.

The hallway looked the same. Nothing had moved, nothing had changed. But something was different. Not the air, not the temperature—just the feeling that something had shifted beneath it all, like a vibration you can't quite hear but still notice.

Linda was the first to go down. One second she was smirking, full of herself, and the next she bent forward with a choked sound and dropped to her knees, gripping her stomach.

"What the hell?" she gasped. "It fucking hurts—"

I waited for the performance to end. She liked attention. Always had. This felt like another version of that.

Then Jen let out a sob and curled up on the floor next to her. Raph stumbled backward and grabbed the wall, eyes wide, breathing hard. Marcus folded in on himself with a quiet grunt, face pale and twisted.

"It's burning," he said. "God, it's—what is this?"

Jen was crying now. Raph looked like he was about to vomit.

"Fucking hell!'' She groaned, rolling on her back on the floor. 

"Jesus!'' Marcus cursed.

"It feels like someone is tearing my insides out.'' 

They were all shaking. Sweating. Like something was ripping through them from the inside out.

I didn't move.

Because I wasn't feeling any of it.

All I felt was a fire at the pit of my stomach, but it wasn't enough to have me crawling around.

This wasn't supernatural. I'd seen this before. Group delusion. Psychological reinforcement. One person panics, the others follow. The body responds to what the mind believes is real. They thought this ritual meant something, so their brains filled in the blanks.

It was all in their heads.

At least, that's what I told myself. I was a genius with no empathy, I didn't share the usual deluded feelings other humans had. I was immune to true fear, being broken or bent. This was nothing more than theatrics, the same stupid show I'd come to watch. 

But something new happened. 

The front door exploded.

It didn't creak or open slightly. It blew inward, like how a door blows when a bomb just exploded inside. Wood shattered, the frame split. The sound caught everyone offguard, but what happened next shocked even me. 

A jagged piece of wood flew across the room and hit Marcus in the ribs. It embedded so deep that it went through. Marcus went down hard. Flat. His head hit the floor with a sick sound, and he didn't get back up.