Originally Human

everything?"
    "No, but what I do recall is accurate." He paused, as if considering something new. "It seems that either emotion or intent can fix things in my memory."
    "Hmm. Works that way for most of us. I wonder if emotion or intent could also make you forget."
    He shifted in his seat, looked out the window, then back at me. "What an uncomfortable thought. Why would I do such a thing to myself?"
    I didn't know, either. "So, what was the first thing I said to you?"
    "You hoped that I spoke English. Molly," he said, and amusement ran through his voice, a silvery ripple in a dark current. "You might distract me, but I'll remember what I asked, and ask again. In that way I am rather like that two-year-old you mentioned. They persist, too. Do you not want to tell me how Erin figured out about you?"
    "Not really." The habit of secrecy was strong… as was a sneaky little wish that he would think well of me. Foolishness. Both the wish, and the desire to base it on misdirection. I was what I was.
    So why not tell him? "All right," I said, signaling that I meant to take the next exit. I wasn't hungry—well, not for food. But he must be. It was nearly eight. "I… used to know Erin's great-grandmother. So when I moved back to Galveston—"
    "You'd lived there before?"
    "I was there for the Great Storm. Anyway, I knew about Erin and I was curious, so I sort of kept an eye on her. She liked to walk on the beach at night."
    "So do you."
    "Yes, but I'm hard to hurt."
    "She came into danger?"
    "There were two of them that night," I said, remembering. "Two pond-scum bastards who followed her, just as I was. One had a knife. He grabbed her, held the blade to her throat. The other ripped open her shirt."
    His breath sucked in. "Did you kill them?"
    "You're more bloodthirsty than I realized."
    "Perhaps you preferred to let the law kill them."
    He was certainly clear on how rapists should be treated. I couldn't say I disagreed. "They had heart attacks. One lived, one didn't."
    "How? What did you do?"
    "Just a minute," I said, easing the big Winnebago onto the access road. "I want to pull in at that gas station and top off the tank. The sign says they have diesel."
    "Are you avoiding my question again?"
    "It's easier to show than to tell, that's all."
    "I'd rather not have a heart attack."
    "You keep asking questions, you can't complain if some of the answers aren't comfortable."

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Chapter 7

    IT took some maneuvering, but I got my rig tucked up next to the pumps. I shut off the motor, unfastened my seat belt, and turned to Michael. "Do you want something to eat?"
    "I want you to show me what you did to Erin's attackers."
    All right. No more delay tactics. I took a deep breath, got my focus, and reached out.
    I was wearing a t-shirt—a pretty Caribbean blue, one of my favorite colors—so my arm was clearly visible. But as I stretched it towards him, my hand went fuzzy. Translucent. I kept reaching—and slowly, carefully, put my hand inside his chest.
    He stared down at his chest, eyes wide. "A most peculiar sensation."
    That was it? That was his total reaction? I gave a shaky laugh, pulled my hand back, and let it go solid again. "It was more than peculiar for Erin's attackers. I went a little more solid and tickled their hearts."
    "You showed great restraint. You could have ripped them out."
    "I've done that, too. But not…" My breath hitched. For a moment I could smell the smoke of the guns, hear the screams of men and horses, feel the shudder of the ground as the canons fired, and my own desperation as I hunted for the one soldier who'd mattered… but he'd already been dead when I started looking, my beautiful, bright-eyed Charlie, my son, lying butchered in the blood-soaked earth while I searched and searched. Too late.
    Quietly I said, "Not for a long time."
    "You don't like killing."
    "No one should like killing. There's nothing brave or glorious about it."
    "No. Yet sometimes it's the only way to stop a great evil."
    "You're sounding more like a warrior than a scholar."
    "Is it not possible to be both?"
    "Maybe." My heart was beating hard. I didn't know why. His eyes were luminous, intent on me… I wanted so much to touch him. I pulled my gaze away. "You've seen what I can do. Most succubi—those who started out that way—are naturally insubstantial, and take on form only with effort. It's the other way around for me, but…" I shrugged. "Other succubi are from Dis. Hell, in other words. I'm originally of Earth,