With an impotent cry of rage, her mother disappeared in a puff of smoke and flame, rematerializing right in front of her. Quin should have known; she should have been ready. But just like the first time, the hit caught her off guard. It was harder than the first one. Claryn put her full strength behind it, and Quin tasted blood as the strike sent her stumbling back into Waryn’s body.
He caught her, keeping them both from falling, and he hissed, baring his fangs at her mother. But it was Glyma’s reaction that shocked Quin more than Waryn’s growl, her father’s inaction, and even her mother’s slap. Glyma snarled, fierce and guttural, a sound Quin didn’t think Incubi were capable of making. Her tail snapped around Claryn’s wrist, still raised as if she wanted to hit Quin again.
That haze of energy Quin had noticed on occasion when Glyma was upset or emotionally overwhelmed vibrated around her body, warping the background. Like heat shimmering off hot asphalt, the air distorted, and Glyma’s pupils shifted to glowing diamonds.
Then the lights dimmed, unnatural shadows encroaching on all sides. Her father squeaked, tripping over his chair in his haste to escape. The Anura playing witness cowered into the wall, huge eyes locked on Glyma in fright and awe. Waryn trembled behind her, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “What the fuck?”
As the dark thickened around them, Glyma started to change. Her gorgeous features sharpened to something fierce and angular. Her horns grew, jagged points jutting out in threatening directions, and when she bared her fangs, her mouth was full of rows of serrated, needle-like teeth.
Even her skin seemed to shift, like worms roiling under her flesh, strange textures bloomed along her limbs, covering her in nonsensical patterns. Claws sprouted from her nail beds, and spikes exploded down her spine, flexing with every heaving breath.
Worse than the physical transformation was the dread, the illogical terror, that the inky darkness brought. Quin gasped, and she tasted rotting meat and rancid blood. She smelled sulfur and brimstone, like spoiled eggs, and her ears filled with the disembodied cries of the damned.
Damnation. The fiery pit. They werein it, and Quin wanted to scream.
She couldn’t find her voice, though. She was frozen in abject horror as she watched her mother—gripped with the same overwhelming fear—back into the end of the table, upsetting a chair and losing her balance. She fell to the floor, heels slipping and sliding on the marble in a vain attempt at escaping the ghoul before her.
Claryn shrieked, but Quin couldn’t hear her. Because Glyma had opened her mouth, and when she spoke, it wasn’t her voice at all. It was distorted and twisted, turning her windchimes and harmony into a discordant gnashing of teeth.
“You will not touch her,” the creature that had been Glyma seethed. “And if we ever see your face again, I will rip out your soul and eat it.”
And gods help her, Quin believed every word.
“Glym?” Quin said, voice trembling, and that horrible creature faced her, diamond pupils glowing like supernovas. “Glyma?”
The monster blinked, and Quin saw a flicker of Glyma, of hot pink eyes and care and love. She was in there, even now, even looking like something out of a nightmare. Glyma was still there.
Climbing to her feet on jelly legs, Quin slowly approached the Succubus—who clearly wasn’t fully a Succubus at all. She’d never known who her father was. The question she should have been asking waswhather father was.
But that didn’t matter right now. Because Glyma was still in there, and for better or worse, she was Quin’s.
“Glym, it’s okay,” Quin said as she came to a stop before the terrifying creature. “See? I’m fine. Everything’s going to be right as rain. Just come back to me. Come back, Glym.”
Another blink, and the glow in those diamond pupils started to dim. The shadows receded, and the sounds of Hel and gnashing of teeth faded. Instead of the stench of death, Quin smelled nutmeg and cardamom.
As the atmosphere slowly shifted back to normal, so did Glyma. The spikes and claws retreated back into her body, and her horns shrank. Those grotesque teeth sank back into her gums and jaw. The wriggling worms under her skin melted away, and her features softened back into smooth, round lines.
Then she was Glyma again, and even the jagged diamond pupils were gone. She wobbled, like the shift had sapped her energy, and Quin lunged forward to catch her. Thankfully, she managed to stay on her feet, only leaning on Quin a little.
“Whoa. That sucked,” Glyma said, voice melodic again. “Sorry, I lost my temper.”
“That’s one word for it,” Quin said, and Glyma winced.
“I was just so angry because she—” Straightening, Glyma reached for Quin’s cheek, and it took all Quin’s strength not to flinch away. When Glyma touched her, it was with the gentleness she’d always shown her. “She hit you. Are you alright?”
Quin nodded. “Yes, I’m fine.”
Glyma inspected her cheek, scowling at the blood smeared at the corner of her mouth, but once she deemed Quin fit enough, she released her chin. “Can we go home now? I have a headache.”
“Of course. Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry,” Glyma whispered, staring down at her hands like she didn’t recognize them. “I didn’t mean to—I was just so mad, and—I’m sorry.”
“It’s going to be alright. I promise.”
“I’d never hurt you,” Glyma insisted, and Quin framed her face in her hands and kissed the tip of her purple nose.
“I know, my love. I know.” She added pressure to Glyma’s shoulder to move her toward the door. “Let’s go now. Everything will be alright.”
