The Grey Wolf Succubus

Created in 1917 by Governor Frank Orren Lowden, Grey Wolf State Park was one of the oldest state parks in Illinois. It was so named due to its high grey wolf population, and there had been at least one sighting each day since the park opened.

We now find ourselves exploring the day of May 19, 2022. Thomas Campbell, age 36, is an experienced hiker and sketch artist. He has decided to trek through Grey Wolf State Park to sketch as many of the wolves as possible. On a dreary afternoon, just moments before it began to rain, Thomas was walking along the trail, humming John Denver’s Rocky Mountain High to himself. As the song’s narrator began climbing cathedral mountains, there was a loud clap of thunder above, and large, thick raindrops began to fall.

“Son of a…” said Thomas, hurrying underneath a nearby tree to pull his rain jacket on. As he rummaged through the pack, there was a snapping sound to his left, like something had crushed a stick beneath their feet. Looking that direction, he saw, to his surprise, a woman, no older than he was, watching him. She had brown hair that, though pulled back into a tight bun, looked like it would fall to just to the middle of her back. Her eyes were as green as emeralds and shined just as brightly. She was watching Thomas with a nervous, almost frightened, expression on her face.

“Hello,” said Thomas quietly. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not a fan of the rain,” the woman said. “The thunder…”

“I know what you mean,” said Thomas, smiling. “It can be scary. Are you alright, though? Like, are you safe?”

“I need some help,” the woman said. “Can you help me?”

“Yes, I can,” said Thomas, standing and moving to sit closer to her. “I’m Thomas, by the way.”

He held out his hand.

“Amanda,” she said, her face brightening as she shook his hand. “Thank you for the help. My family is at a nearby cave, but I don’t feel comfortable going by myself. Come with me after the rain’s done? They’d very much like to meet my rescuer.”

“I would be delighted,” said Thomas, and Amanda’s smile widened, showing almost dazzlingly white teeth. For the next ten minutes, the two of them talked, covering every topic Thomas could spit out. For some reason, he couldn’t explain it, he felt…drawn to her. It was incredibly easy to talk to her: she laughed at his jokes, though he stumbled over the punchline, and her eyes shone brightly, even under the cover of both trees and the cloudy sky.

At last, the rain stopped, and the clouds began to thin out, allowing the sun to shine down once again. The sweet smell of the after-rain flitted pleasantly at Thomas’ nose, putting him at ease. Amanda, noticing his comfort, giggled. The sound brought Thomas swiftly back to reality.

“Oh,” he said, feeling his face going instantly red. “I’m…I’m…”

Words seemed to fail him, but Amanda’s smile never faltered.

“It’s alright,” she said. “I think…I think it’s cute.”

Thomas smiled and he got to his feet, faced Amanda, and held out his hand to her.

“Shall we go and reunite you with your family?” he asked. Amanda took his hand, stood, and the two of them set off down the path, sinking, once again, into deep conversation. Amanda led him deeper into the park, where Thomas failed to recognize where they were; the trees all started to look the same. They soon left the path and began to walk among the trees before reaching the mouth of a cave that turned and twisted out of sight.

“They’re probably inside,” said Amanda. “Dad’s a big spelunker, so this is practically his element.”

They walked into the cave, and the deeper they went, the louder the sounds of their shoes against the stony floor echoed off the walls. Before long, the cave’s mouth was out of sight, and Thomas had to stop and pull his flashlight from his pack. He waved the beam of light around, trying to catch any sort of sign of human life, but it was so dark, the flashlight didn’t help much.

“I thought they were here,” said Amanda, and Thomas could hear a note of concern in her voice.

“Are you sure they’re here?” asked Thomas, looking at her. “They didn’t go to another one?” 

She shook her head, and Thomas saw small tears start to run down her face. He quickly came over to her and patted her shoulder.

“It’s alright,” he said. “We’ll find them.”

Amanda smiled, wiped her away her tears, and then, to Thomas’ surprise, wrapped her arms around his middle. Though taken aback at first, Thomas quickly recovered at the smell of her strawberry shampoo and proceeded to wrap his own arms around her waist; the flashlight slipped from his hands as he did, but he didn’t care. There they stood, arms wrapped around each other, in the dark cave.

“Maybe it’s not a total loss that I got lost,” said Amanda, looking up at Thomas.

“I suppose not,” he said, and she, standing on her tiptoes to reach him, kissed him softly. Taken aback yet again, Thomas quickly recovered and returned the kiss, blissfully unaware of the world outside of the cave. At long last, though Thomas yearned for it to continue, Amanda pulled away from him and looked at him, those eyes shining even in the low light. She raised her arm and placed it on the strap of his backpack.

“Take this off,” she said. Thomas immediately did as he was told; the backpack hit the ground with a loud thud, but Thomas paid no attention. When he had straightened back up, she kissed him again and slowly began to bend down, running her hand down his chest.

Thomas’ eyes widened as he watched Amanda’s descent to his waist, their eyes locked the entire time. There was a clattering as Amanda fumbled with his belt and slowly began to pull it out. With the belt free, she tossed it out of sight, the metal clanging loudly against the stone floor.

Thomas leaned his head back in ultimate pleasure, his eyes glazed over as he looked at the stone ceiling. Several drops of water dripped down and landed on his forehead, but he didn’t care: the cave could flood, and he would die a happy man. The pleasure was brought to an abrupt halt, though, as intense pain raced through his waist. He looked down and saw Amanda, her smile the widest it had been yet, her lips covered in blood. As he watched in horror, she swallowed.

Thomas screamed, trying to comprehend that his penis had just been bitten off and swallowed. He swayed on the spot, his breathing growing faster and faster, until his legs, now feeling like they had turned to jelly, could no longer support him. He fell to the ground, instinctively thrusting out his right hand to stop him. He yelled again as his palm hit the hard stone floor, but he quickly turned around to see what Amanda was doing. She was still kneeling, her eyes still fixed on his, but something had changed. Her eyes were still alive and still sparkled, but her smile now had a sinister look to it: instead of beautifying her face, it made it ugly, twisted. As she sat down on his chest, her legs on either side, he began to scream again, the sound reverberating off the walls.

***

 Animal Attack Claims Fourth Victim; Park Faces Closure

In the 100 years since Grey Wolf State Park opened, it is currently experiencing what is undoubtedly its darkest hour. In the past six months, at least four hikers have gone missing. The most recent is Thomas Campbell, 36, who was assumed dead this past Tuesday. Campbell leaves behind his wife Melody and four-year-old son Blake.

When questioned about the nature of these attacks, authorities believe the perpetrator to be a grey wolf, which has been known to, though rarely, attack humans. However, a park ranger, who has been asked to remain anonymous, has leaked some information which proves startling.

“It’s as if these people simply entered the park and vanished. Until the culprit, whether animal or man, is caught, the governor has voiced the possibility to close Grey Wolf State Park.”

This quote refers to Governor Parks’ statement yesterday that the state is offering a $10,000 bounty to the person that brings an end to this dark situation. We will report more information as it occurs. In the meantime, if you, or anyone you know, plan to venture into Grey Wolf, it is highly recommended that you travel in groups of at least two.

The announcement of Governor Parks’ bounty hit the state like wildfire. Hunters from every corner of the state swarmed to Grey Wolf, but none of them had any luck of finding the alleged perpetrator nor any sign of its victims. For nearly a month, the park was packed to capacity with hunters, but they soon dwindled away as continued failing to bear fruit.

The story eventually reached national news, eventually catching the eye of Desmond Phillips, aged 34, host of the popular TV show Hikes with Desmond. Desmond was an experienced wilderness survivor who, over the course of his show, took himself to remote locations and attempted to survive, filming the entire sequence. Though the show had faced some controversy with the show Survivor, Hikes with Desmond was never cancelled; the court had ruled that while Survivor was a competition, Hikes was one man by himself.

Just before his adventure to Illinois, Desmond found himself amid a storm as mighty as the one he encountered in the Sahara, but, privately, he wished he was in the Sahara right now. His girlfriend of two years, Willow Morris, was loudly voicing her objections to his upcoming adventure.

“This is different, though, Des!” she shouted. “People have died at this park!”

“People die all the time at state and national parks,” said Desmond, and Willow raised her eyebrows, believing this wasn’t helping his case. “You know what I mean. I could die going to the grocery store. I’ll be alright!”

“But you’re not a hunter!” Willow exclaimed. “The state wants to kill this thing, and you’re not a killer. How do you expect to get that bounty if you can’t even kill the thing?”

“I’m not out to kill anyone or anything,” said Desmond, double-checking that his recorder was packed. Satisfied, he turned to face her, and, when he spoke again, it was softer, convincing.

“Please, Willow,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I’ll be alright. Who knows?” I may need you to save the day.”

That settled the argument, at least for now. The next morning, Desmond boarded his plane for Peoria, Illinois and hopped off just after 2 o’clock central. A tall, thin man with a remarkable resemblance to John Waters, except with a thicker mustache, bearing a sign labelled “Desmond Phillips, Grey Wolf,” was waiting for him at the baggage claim. The thin man introduced himself as Thomas Bandon and led Desmond to a waiting limousine.

Ninety minutes later, the limousine slowed to a stop in the main parking lot for Grey Wolf State Park. Bandon exited the car, opened the back passenger seat, and Desmond climbed out, looking around as Bandon retrieved his gear from the trunk. Aside from their limousine, there was only one other vehicle in the parking lot, this one a black Cadillac Escalade. The Cadillac doors opened, and three men exited: two from the front seats, one from the rear. Desmond recognized the rear seat man as current Illinois governor Blake Washer, elected two years.

“Mr. Phillips, I presume?” said Washer. Desmond nodded, and Washer shook his hand, flashing a shiny-toothed smile as he did. “I thought so. I’m glad to hear you’re up to the challenge. Whatever’s doing this, it’s caused a stir amongst the local hunters. They won’t go near it. You’re our last hope.”

“I’ll do what I can to help, sir,” said Desmond, bending down and fishing a pocket-sized camera from a pocket on his pack. “I’m stick this little guy in my breast pocket, and it’ll capture everything I see.”

With that, he pressed the Record button and dropped the camera into the pocket.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” said Washer. “Please give me a call once you’ve discovered the perpetrator. Unfortunately, the park itself is a dead zone, except for this parking lot, so this is the only place to make calls. Also, the park is closed until the perpetrator is captured. No one- except for you, of course- will be in the park, so you’ll have it all to yourself. Good luck.”

He held out his hand, and the two men shook hands again. Without another word, Washer and his bodyguards returned to the Cadillac, which pulled out of the lot moments later. Bandon cleared his throat, and Desmond turned back to him.

“I will be heading out, sir,” he said. “I will return once you’re done. Good luck, and be safe.”

He shook Desmond’s hand, got back in the car, and drove away. Desmond watched until the car had turned a corner and disappeared before bending down, hoisted his backpack onto his shoulders, and set off towards the nearest trail head.

As he walked, Desmond had to admit that, despite the park’s ongoing struggle, the park itself was quite beautiful. All along the trail, there were birds singing and flitting around, squirrels running about, chattering away to each other. He even saw a deer race across the path about ten feet in front of him; it had stopped and looked at him with those mysterious eyes before disappearing back into the trees. The most fascinating part, though, was a gathering of trees he stumbled across, bearing signs that a pack of grey wolves had ventured that way: a large collection of tracks, tree trunks scratched, and even a small amount of fur that had managed to wriggle free. It was hard to believe that something dangerous was happening here.

Night soon began to fall, so Desmond stopped at the closest camping spot and set up his tent and his bear canister. After a quick dinner of mac and cheese with sausage (he’d brought several MREs with), he got into his sleeping bag and journaled until he began to nod off, at which point he shut his lamp off and went to sleep.

He awoke the next morning warm and comfortable. It was a moment before he realized that he hadn’t been transported home, but the smell of pine and birds’ songs brought him back to his senses. He breakfasted quickly, tore down camp, and resumed his hike, whistling cheerily to himself.

Desmond’s good mood began to slowly diminish, though, as, as the day went on, the clouds overhead began to gather and darken, and the all-too-familiar smell touched Desmond’s nose: rain was coming. And did it come! No sooner had the clouds started to darken, that fat, thick drops began to fall, and Desmond was quickly soaking wet from head to toe. It grew so bad, he was forced to take shelter beneath a nearby grouping of pine trees.

The rain continued to pour, and lightning soon began lighting up the sky, followed by loud claps of thunder. Just when Desmond began to wonder when he’d be able to set his tent up, a small sound behind him made him turn around. Standing before him, just as drenched as he was, was a woman. Her black hair was tied in a tight braid, and her expression was a combination of confusion and worry. Desmond opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it.

“Can you help me?” she asked; her voice was timid, full of anxiety. “I’m lost, trying to find my way back to the parking lot, but I got caught by the rain. I was over there…”

She pointed to another grouping of trees nearby.

“…and I saw you over here,” she said. “I thought you might be able to help me.”

“I can help you, yes,” said Andrew, and a weak smile appeared on the woman’s face. “I have to ask: do you know anything about the park’s disappearances?”

The woman’s smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“What…what are you talking about?” she asked, her voice growing frantic. “What disappearances? People are disappearing here? Is that why I haven’t seen anyone else here?”

“Yes, people are disappearing,” said Desmond, and he took a step towards the woman, who immeaditely backed away. “I was hired by the state to investigate, try to see what’s going on. I promise you, though. I won’t hurt you.”

The woman hesitated, but her shoulders soon relaxed, and her panic seemed to dissipate. At last, her nervousness seemed to disappear entirely, and both she and Desmond sat on the ground and talked. Desmond learned that her name was Abby and that she had visited the park a few times over the past few years. This time, though, she had gotten lost and hadn’t been able to get home; Desmond expected the state had chalked her disappearance up to the same fate as the others.

At last, after nearly ninety minutes of solid rain, the drops began to slow before stopping entirely. By now, the sun was getting low in the sky, sending beautiful combination of red and orange across the sky. Desmond and Abby got to their feet, and Desmond began to lead the way back to the parking lot, where he planned to call her family and inform them of Abby’s good fortune.

They had barely been walking for fifteen minutes, though, when Abby grabbed at Desmond’s sleeve and began tugging it, like an excited child would do in a candy store.

“Can we go this way real quick?” Abby asked, pointing. “There’s a cave that way that I was using as a place to sleep, and some of my stuff is still there. I need to grab it. I promise it won’t take long.”

Desmond nodded, and Abby led the way off the path. They walked for nearly ten minutes, after which they arrived at the mouth of a large cave, the largest Desmond had ever seen. To the untrained eye, it looked like it would be a terrible place to sleep, but, to Desmond, who had slept in far more dangerous places, it looked quite inviting.

“This is it; this is it!” Abby exclaimed, and she led the way into the cave. Desmond followed, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Before long, the mouth of the cave was no longer visible, and Desmond had to stop to pull out his flashlight. The sounds of dripping water from the stalactites, seemingly coming from all around them, were almost deafening. At last, they stopped, and Abby turned to face Desmond, who saw a small pack leaning up against the rocky wall.

“I wanted to thank you for your help,” Abby said, her voice gaining its former strength; Desmond suspected that, now she was in a familiar place, where she’d spent the last few weeks to survive, her courage had returned and that she was no longer afraid of him.

“Not a problem,” said Desmond, noticing she had taken a step toward him. “I’m happy to help.”

“Not many people would’ve,” Abby said. “Most people would’ve either ignored me or…”

Her voice trailed off, but Desmond understood. They stood in silence for what seemed to be an eternity, the only sound being the continued dripping water.

“I should give you something,” Abby said, taking another step closer. “As a thank you for your help.”

“You don’t have…” Desmond started to say, but Abby cut him off as she threw her arms around him and kissed him. The instant her lips touched his own, all other thoughts fled Desmond’s mind. Nothing else existed: not the strange perpetrator, not his deal with Governor Washer. Nothing else mattered than what was happening in this dark, wet cave, not even Willow.

WILLOW! The thought exploded in his brain with the force of an atomic bomb. For a moment, he thought he would collapse. He broke the kiss, stepped away from Abby, and leaned against the wall, panting heavily; he was sweating now, and the cold wall felt good against his skin. Abby, meanwhile, looked taken aback, her face pale.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Did I …? Was that…?”

“It’s not you,” Desmond said, stepping back over to her and placing his hand on her shoulder. “I just…I have a girlfriend back home. I’m sorry.”

To his surprise, instead of looking shocked or saddened, a mischievous smile began to appear across Abby’s face. She shook her head, as if she was shaking off what Desmond had said.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she said, her smile widening as she stepped towards Desmond again. Before Desmond could react, she was kissing him again, and all thoughts of Willow melted away from his brain.

‘It’s not like she’ll find out. What are the odds I’ll ever see her again? Come for the weird disappearances, stay for the make out session!”

These thoughts had no sooner crossed his mind than Abby broke the kiss, and Desmond looked at her, the confusion now apparent on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Abby held a finger up to his lips, and he closed his mouth.

“Shh,” she whispered. “It’s not stopping. Trust me.”

The joy Desmond was feeling must’ve been apparent because she giggled, and the sound echoed off the cave walls.

“Close your eyes,” Abby whispered, and Desmond closed them, allowing the darkness to fully engulf him. Desmond heard the scrape of her shoes and felt something caress his groin. Keeping his eyes shut, he lowered a hand and felt something soft: it was her hair. She must’ve sunk down to her knees.

What happened next seemed to be an out-of-body experience. It was happening to Desmond, but it was the strangest feeling he’d ever experienced, almost as if he couldn’t believe it was happening. He heard the clasp of his belt being undone, felt his shorts being lowered to his ankles. The fact that he was now receiving a blowjob in the middle of a dark, wet cave didn’t strike Desmond as strange at all; if anything, in a way, it seemed the most fitting place.

From nowhere, he felt pain like he’d never experienced. his eyes shot open, and when he looked down towards the ground, a scream louder than any he had ever produced emitted from his mouth. His groin was dripping blood, and Abby was looking up at him. Her sweet smile was still on her face, but there was something hanging out the corner of her mouth. The next thing Desmond knew, the world grew dark, and that cave became his tomb.

***

“This is different, though, Des!” Willow shouted. “People have died at this park!”

“People die all the time at state and national parks,” said Desmond, and Willow raised her eyebrows, believing this wasn’t helping his case. “You know what I mean. I could die going to the grocery store. I’ll be alright!”

“But you’re not a hunter!” Willow exclaimed. “The state wants to kill this thing, and you’re not a killer. How do you expect to get that bounty if you can’t even kill the thing?”

“I’m not out to kill anyone or anything,” said Desmond, double-checking that his recorder was packed. Satisfied, he turned to face her, and, when he spoke again, it was softer, convincing.

“Please, Willow,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I’ll be alright. Who knows?” I may need you to save the day.”

She looked at him, her mind racing, trying to think of an excuse to keep him from leaving, but she knew better. His mind was made up, and she wasn’t going to be able to dissuade him. She sighed.

“Wait here,” she said, and she went to the basement, where she retrieved a small GPS tracker. When she returned to the bedroom, she handed it to him.

“Since you’re going, throw this in there,” she said. “That way, if something does happen to you, we’ll be able to find you.”

Desmond opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Willow placed her hand over his mouth.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, just…do it for me.”

That conversation played on repeat in Willow’s mind. Since the day Desmond had left, she had checked her computer several times, noting his location. Anxiety began to build within her when he didn’t move for over an hour, at which point she reminded herself that he was getting ready for bed.

Her heart nearly stopped on the third day, when he hadn’t moved from the same spot all day. Panic began to build within her, and pure terror was racing through her when she purchased a plane ticket for Illinois and a rental car.

It seemed that she was on autopilot throughout the entire trip to Illinois. The scenarios playing in her head-each more terrible than the last- seemed to change with every step she took. When she finally got into her rental car, she paused and took several deep breaths, all the while fumbling with her bottle of hydroxyzine, popping a capsule into her mouth, and downing it with a glug from her water bottle. It was only after another set of deep breaths that she turned the car on and navigated it away from the airport.

There was, to her great surprise, not much sign of life as she approached Grey Wolf State Park. She had hypothesized that there would at least be some sort of police guard at the entrance, but there was no one there as she pulled through, scanning for a parking lot. She pulled into the nearest lot, switched the car off, and got out, looking around, half hoping Desmond would be there to greet her. He was not.

Her first impression of the park was that it was very beautiful. Birds were singing, and the leaves were starting to change. She grabbed her backpack from the backseat and pulled her phone from her pocket.

“I’ve got to leave a review for Track Way when this is all over,” Willow thought as she opened the app. The app was genius: if the beacon sending the signal was working, the app would never lose it. She shouldered her pack and set off down the trail.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was. There were no birds singing, no sound of squirrels chittering. In fact, the only sound she could hear was the thud of her own footsteps. This seemed strange to her; from what she had read, it seemed Grey Wolf was a popular spot for bird watching.

As the sun got lower in the sky, it cast shades of orange and red across the sky, making it seem as though the sky were on fire. She kept hiking, her eyes ever alert, until the sun had disappeared entirely, throwing her into complete darkness. She stopped and, after setting up her tent and eating, was soon asleep.

She awoke in the middle of the night, and her gut instinct immediately told her something was wrong. She got up, grabbed her flashlight, and left the tent, switching on the flashlight as she did. The fire, by now, was nearly dead, only a few whisps of smoke emitting from the blackened, charred logs. A loud snap made her turn around, and, to her surprise, she saw Desmond sitting pleasantly on a nearby log. He looked at her as casually as if they were at home, watching television.

“Desmond!” she shrieked, and she dropped the flashlight as she darted over to him. He got to his feet as she approached him, opening his arms wide and embracing her.

“How did you find me?” she asked, pulling back and looking at him. She had feared the worst: feared he was going to be near death, his clothes torn and dirty. On the contrary, though, he was quite the opposite. His clothes were whole, and he smelled as though he’d just stepped out of a warm shower.

“How…how are you so clean?” she asked, her voice trembling. Desmond cocked his head.

“What do you mean?” he asked, smiling pleasantly. Before she could say anything else, his face slackened, and an indifferent expression set across his face. He turned on his heel and marched away, leaving Abby thunderstruck. She stared after him for what seemed like an eternity before she hurried off after him. The problem, though, was that no matter how fast she went, he seemed to be ahead of her, just out of reach.

At last, Desmond turned and disappeared amongst a grouping of trees. She turned after him and stopped because she found herself at the mouth of a large cave. As deep as she could see, she saw stalactites with droplets of water trickling from them, and the resulting plunk sound reverberated off the walls of the cave. From what she could see, there was no light.

Willow laid her backpack on the ground, rummaged through it, and withdrew her headlamp, which she attached firmly to its spot. She picked up the pack, slung it back over her shoulders, and entered the cave. Much like the water, the sound of her feet against the stony floor echoed off the cave’s walls, and the sound sent a shiver up her spine.

Before long, the sunlight had vanished behind her, and the only light was that of her headlamp. She squinted around, looking for any sight of Desmond, but her efforts were fruitless: there was no sign of him. Deeper and deeper into the cave she went, and as she descended, the colder she became.

At last, she turned a corner of the cave into a large cavern. The ceiling was nearly twenty feet high here, and it was the coldest she’d been yet. Yet, standing in the middle of the room, dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, was Desmond, smiling pleasantly at her.

“Dammit, Desmond!” Willow cried, hurrying over to him. “You scared the shit-”

Before she could reach him, though, Desmond had leaped across the room, halting her in her tracks in shock. In an instant, he seized her, tightly, by the throat, lifting her into the air. Willow gagged for air, but she felt Desmond’s hand tighten. The cavern began to darken until Willow grabbed desperately, for the knife strapped to her belt. As quickly as she could, she withdrew it from its pouch and sliced at Desmond’s arm.

Howling like an injured animal, Desmond released her, and Willow quickly backed away, holding the knife up, ready to strike again if necessary. To her horror, Desmond began to change. His hair, rich in a brown caramel-like color, grew white as snow and as thin as though it were strands of spaghetti poking out from his head, and his hands turned slowly into claws, the bones clinking painfully as they rearranged beneath the skin. His eyes grew sunken within his skull, and his sky-blue eyes turned yellow like a cat’s. From his forehead sprouted a pair of horns, much like a ram’s.

Frozen in horror, Willow watched as the succubus began to scratch at its back with its claws, bits of grey flesh falling, in heaps, to the ground. At last, when enough flesh had been scratched away, from the holes in its back emerged two large and powerful wings, easily with a ten-foot wingspan. The succubus stretched its wings and lifted itself into the air, its forked tongue licking where Willow had scratched it with its forked tongue.

When the succubus lifted itself into the air, the resulting air current struck Willow hard enough to knock her off her feet. Her fall was cushioned, though, by her pack. Quickly, Willow unclipped her pack from her chest, scrambled to her feet, and dived into the pack’s contents once again. From its depths, this time, she retrieved a small, orange flare gun and five shells. She pulled herself back to her feet and hurried towards the entrance, which would take her back to the cave’s mouth.

As she reached the entrance, though, in her panic, one foot stepped on a particularly wet piece of floor, and she found herself on the ground, the flare gun bouncing away up the path. The succubus ceased its licking and looked in the direction of the sound. For a moment, predator and prey made eye contact, and the only sound was that of the dripping water.

It was Willow that broke the eye contact as she hurried back to her feet and raced up the path, snatching up the flare gun as she did. The succubus’ roars drowned out the sounds of her feet against the stone floor, but the air grew warmer as she ran: she was getting closer to the cave’s mouth.

There it was! Just ahead of her, like the infamous light at the end of the tunnel, there it was. Beyond the entrance, she could see that it was raining, and the trees seemed to beckon to her as they swayed in the wind. She was less than ten feet from freedom when a searing pain struck her leg. She collapsed, striking the floor hard, but managed to keep hold of the flare gun and its rounds this time. She looked down at her right leg and saw that a sharp barb, about a foot long, wedged halfway through her knee. She looked down, deep into the cave, and saw the succubus looking at her, a wide smile on its demonic face; its teeth sparkled, even in the low light. It began to speak, but it was Desmond’s voice that spoke to her.

“Come with me, Willow,” it said. “Stay here with me, away from the rotting world out there.”

Willow said nothing, tore her eyes away from the succubus, and loaded a cartridge into the gun. She faced the entrance, took careful aim, and fired. The flare exploded out the end of the gun, soared towards the entrance, and struck the rock just above it. There was a loud rumbling, but the rock stayed firm in place.

At once, the succubus’ eyes narrowed as it realized what Willow was trying to do. It let out an almighty roar and leaped at Willow, who fired her second round. This round hit the same mark as the previous, and the rumbling was louder this time. The succubus seized Willow by the throat once again but saw, to its horror, the rock starting to give way. More and more sunlight disappeared, blocked by the falling rock.

“You’re dead,” croaked Willow, sneering at the furious creature. “Without access to the outside world, you’re…”

Her final sentence went unfinished as, with a squeeze, the succubus broke her neck. Willow’s head drooped forward, lulling back and forth. The succubus released her, and her body dropped to the floor, her eyes staring up at it. It strode to the fallen rock and tried to move the rock. It wouldn’t move. A sense of dread washed over the despicable creature, and it retreated to Willow’s body. It stooped down, scooped her body up, and carried it back to its cavern. Though it would die, it would feast tonight, and the last meal always tastes the best.