Page 15 of The Wickedness of Man
“Mary Magdalene. From the Bible. She was a whore.” I found my chin quivering. “It’s… it’s who they named me after.”
“Magdalene—a whore? Never! But still… apologies, Magda.” Dr. Lowe touched my hand in my lap, squeezing it softly. “We won’t speak of it again if it upsets you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and please do forgive me for being so forward, but physical connection is very important in my work. If you ever feel uncomfortable with my touch at any time, you are more than welcome to let me know, all right?” She squeezed my hand again for emphasis. “You’re safe with me—always.”
I nodded, my throat tight. This woman I’d met literally two minutes prior had somehow managed to be more physically intimate with me than my boyfriend had been in the first two months of our relationship after knowing me for more than half our lives.
“Now,” Dr. Lowe began. “I know you likely have a lot of questions, but I’d like you to tell me in your own words what’s going on.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I tried again. “I’m a virgin.”
Dr. Lowe said nothing, but I could swear I almost felt her heartbeat pick up speed. “And you consider that a problem?”
“Yes—I mean, no, that’s not the problem, it’s—” I stopped, took another sip of my water. “My parents.”
“Your parents…?”
“I’m sorry,” I said, jumping to my feet, flustered tears springing to my eyes. “I know this is making no sense, and I’m sure you’re a very nice person, but I don’t think I can do this, and it’s all so sudden?—”
“Magda,” said Dr. Lowe, having not moved an inch from the sofa. Her voice stopped me in my tracks like I’d been frozen in place. “You’re too hot. Take off your sweater.”
I stared at her, blinking stupidly. I was fighting every urge inside of me to do as she commanded, and the realization of how badly I wanted to please this stranger was starting to hit me.
“What’s happening?” I choked out. “Who are you?”
“I’m someone who can help you,” Dr. Lowe said patiently. “Now. Please take off your sweater and sit back down.” She patted the sofa beside her.
I tugged the sweater off over my head, the weight of her gaze felt like hands roving over the tank top and leggings I was wearing. I might as well have been naked, her eyes were so perceptive. I wished I’d borrowed one of Katie’s old baggy t-shirts. Grateful for the darkened room hiding my messy hair and the blush on my cheeks, I took up the seat beside her once more, and Dr. Lowe did not touch me immediately, which made me feel strangely sad.
“Take a deep breath and relax,” she said, lowering her voice, making it feel more intimate. She reached over and tucked my hair behind my ear, and the return of her hand brought relief. She left it on my left shoulder as I regained my composure, feeling a little more comfortable now that I wasn’t being swallowed by my too-hot sweater.
She lifted her hands to my face but didn’t touch me. She looked into my eyes. “May I?”
I didn’t know what she was asking, but I knew I wanted her to touch me again. I nodded and licked my lips. She finally rested her palms on my cheeks, then closed her eyes. I gasped as I felt my memories opening to her. My parents’ beatings; the lectures; the purity talk. My fear at my period. Every time I’d so much as longed for someone’s touch. I felt like a book laid bare to her. I had no idea how, but in mere moments, we’d examined aspects of my life that would have been too painful to say aloud. She saw… everything. She saw me with Danny. I felt her grunt in pain the moment the memory of my anniversary evening came up.
I sobbed, and Dr. Lowe released me, stroking back my hair and holding me to her, rocking me and pressing gentle kisses against my forehead until the tears stopped.
“You poor darling,” she whispered, pulling me effortlessly into her lap, swinging my legs over the side of the couch and pressing my head to her chest, where the soft pulse at her throat lulled me into a sleepy daze.
I realized the absurdity of the moment, but I didn’t want to pull away from her. This was where she wanted me. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but I knew that she was just as happy to hold me as I was for her to do it.
“You’ve had such a hard time, haven’t you? To be denied your sexuality and your innate nature—to be forced to reject it as something sinister when it is the very heart of your being.”
I looked up at her then, blinking the sleep from my eyes. “My nature?” I asked. “Sexual?”
The idea of me as an innately sexual being had to be a joke. No one looked at me like that—except for Danny, maybe, and I’d ruined my chances with him.
“No, dear Magda, you misunderstand,” said Dr. Lowe, stroking my face with her perfectly manicured hands. “There is something you must know about yourself, and what I’m going to tell you may seem… fantastical, but I knew it the first time I smelled your scent in your friend’s café that it was true. I just had no idea yourparents”—she spat the word like it was a curse—“had done such cruelties to you. There will be a bit more to unpack here than I had originally thought.”
“I’m… I don’t—” I began.
Dr. Lowe adjust our positions so that we could face each other. Her warm breath batted against my cheek, and once more, she put her hands on either side of my face. I could see now, behind those thin wireframe glasses, her eyes glowed a soft red. I gasped, but she held me firmly and offered a kind smile.
“Magda Church, you are a cambion. You should be flushed full of sexual energy by now. Twenty-six and not a single time…” Shetsked, but it wasn’t at me. “We’ll correct that soon.”
“A… acambion? What are you talking about?”
“Magda, you and I are creatures called succubi. Now, as a fellow succubus, I can tell you right now that I can smell your power on your skin; in your blood. We are beings that feed off of sexual energy. Like this, just touching you right now. It feels good, doesn’t it?”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to lie. “Yes,” I said instead.
