Soul Sucker

Ch. 1

A brisk and swirling wind dashed crisp leaves and misty rain against the bus windshield.  Fiona cursed the hour, not looking forward to walking home once she finished her outing after the buses stopped running.  She pulled her worn leather jacket closer, huddling in her seat and shoving her hands deeper into the tiny pockets.  The only other person on the bus was an older gentleman of dubious dwelling-space.  Fiona knew better than to judge by looks, however.  After all, no one could tell by looking what she was.  No one human, at least.
             Only other supernatural creatures could detect that Fiona was not human.  Not everyone would be able to detect her species as fae.  Fewer who were not fae could detect her fae race.
             Fiona reached up and pulled the Stop Request line as the bus approached her stop.  She nodded politely to the driver as she stepped off the bus.  She hurried, head down, and walked into the rain for half a block before turning up to a Greek revival house.  It was hard to tell in the dark, but the house was definitely from the late seventeen-hundreds, though someone had kept it in good condition.
            2039 East Heartfort Street was home to one of the most powerful fae on the East Coast.  Fiona wasn't sure how old Charmaine was, but there were tales of her going back generations.  Charmaine played in the political realm where she held a lot of weight from her age and strength.  Fiona knocked and waited, shivering.  She was very glad of the porch overhang protecting her from the damp, though nothing blocked the chill or the swirling wind.
            The back of her neck prickled, her body reacting to the powerful wards on the property.  She shifted foot to foot, itching to be let inside and finish her business before the magic decided she was an unwelcome intruder.
            Footsteps echoed in the hall behind the door and the floor creaked at the threshold.  The door opened and it was all Fiona could do not to tumble through the door and into the dry, warm entry hall.
            "Good evening, Fiona," a tall dark-haired young-looking man replied, closing the door behind her.
            "Tynan!" she exclaimed, eyebrows raised.  She and her brother ran in very different circles so they never saw much of each other.  He was more charming, more powerful, and older than she was.  His mother had been a powerful half djinn-half succubus.  Fiona was simply a Cailínitheann, an eater of magic and the dead, regulated to the bottom of the fae hierarchy for their lack of powerful magic and unsavory eating requirements.
            "What are you doing here?"
            "Charmaine called me for a meeting earlier this evening."
            Fiona frowned.  "But..."
            "She's dead.  I know that, now.  She was alive when she invited me over.  Hurry up and take care of the body before the police get here."
            "What are you going to do?"
            "Stall.  Charmaine's secretary found her.  Stupid woman called the police instead of going through proper fae channels.  Mundanes."  He spat the last word like a curse.
            Without another word he turned down the hall, leading deeper into the house.
            "She was in the kitchen.  It was clearly magic that killed her, but damn if I know what or how.  The secretary thought that Charmaine had had a heart attack even though she was so –ahem—young." Tynan snorted; Charmaine was old and no simple heart attack would have killed such a powerful fae who had access to the best doctors as well as the most powerful and effective healing magics.
            "Where is she, now?  The secretary, I mean," Fiona asked.  It would be much easier to do her job if no mundane were around to see it.
            "Passed out in the library," Tynan replied calmly.  "She won't wake until needed."
            At the threshold of the kitchen, Fiona's brother stepped back and let her cross into the room.
            "I shall leave you to your business and go keep a look out.  Good evening, Fiona."
            "See ya, Tynan," she replied, eyes locked on Charmaine.  She waited until his footsteps faded before kneeling beside the body; few could stand to be around her for this.
            There wasn't a lot of magical residue around the room.  Usually, her body soaked up any stray magic like a sponge, energizing her and preventing her from getting ill.  Cailínitheann's immune system was not particularly strong on its own—not much stronger than the average human.  However, their bodies soaked up the magical residue from around them and stored it, using the magic to burn up any diseases.  Cailínitheann never got sick.
            Fiona put a hand on Charmaine's chest and drew back in shock.  Nothing.  Not the smallest trace of magical residue remained when in reality the fae's body should have been brimming with magical energy that bled into the surroundings.  She had never heard of a magical creature—whether fae or werewolf or dragon or anything else—not having a trace of magic left after they died.  Even when a supernatural being had been dead for centuries, there was still some kind of residual magic.
            The sound of sirens cut through her confusion and the beginnings of panic.  She pushed aside her emotions and concentrated.  Her own magic burbled up and sank into Charmaine's remains.  Beside the body, something began to take shape.  At first it was simply a strangeness to the light, like heat waves.  After a moment, the heat waves concentrated and became more solid until it became a second body, identical in every way to Charmaine—if she had been human:  a clone, a simulacrum, a blend of the spells for creating a changeling and creating a golem. 
     Fiona hesitated.  What if Carmaine had been sick before she was murdered?  Or what if she had been poisoned?  Could that explain why there was no magical residue?  She didn't have time to eat anyway.  She would have to take this meal to go.
     Without another thought, Fiona hauled Charmaine upright and hauled her onto her back in the fireman's carry position.  Now she just had to get past the police.  If she were her brother, she could simply charm her way past and no one would remember the body she was carrying.  But she was not her brother.  She only had the Glamour to keep Mundanes from seeing her sharp teeth, cat-slit eyes, and pointed ears.
     She was glad that most Fae were physically stronger than the average human.  As quickly as she could manage, Fiona made her way down the hallway toward where she assumed there was a back door.  She hoped there weren't any cops back there.
     Luck was with her.  Behind her, she could hear her brother and the police.  Carefully, she eased the door open and slipped out into the wet and chilly night.