Succubi Are Forever by Jill Myles Page A

stone crown of the sun, only one shall bear the kiss of the eternal. He must first pass the madman’s way and the measure of the unknowing before finding the truth deep in the belly of the lake. Those who push to succeed shall end up with the spoils, or with none.”
    Remy jingled the car keys. “What is that, some sort of shitty haiku?”
    “It’s a puzzle,” Zane said grimly. “A key to where a halo is, but only part of the message. The other page was written in angelic script.
That,
I could read.”
    “And this was in Scythian,” I said thoughtfully, taking the page from Sophie when she held it back out to me. The Scythians were an ancient race that had lived in what was now Iran. Nowhere close to here, yet the entire thing looked so familiar that it was driving me crazy. Where had I seen it before?
    “The crown of the sun,” Ethan repeated. “And the picture is of a sun. If we find that symbol, will we find the halo?”
    Good, helpful Ethan. I thought hard. “Maybe. It would have to be someplace old. As old as the Scythians,” I said, looking over at Sophie. Was she Scythian? Her lovely oval face and tall, lean body could have been from any time, any place, but her coloring and thick, lush black curls could be Middle Eastern—or the predecessor to it.
    “Do you know of any sun crowns, Sophie?” Remy asked helpfully.
    “I do not,” Sophie said. “I have no use for kings, alive or dead.”
    Sun crowns. The words rattled in my mind, trying to jar something loose. I stared at the picture and the writing. Sun. A crown of the sun. I didn’t know what that was. I stared at the crowns surrounding the circle of haloes. It looked so damn familiar. I knew I’d seen that somewhere before. I knew—
    My stomach sank like a rock as I recognized the symbol. I tilted the picture. Those weren’t crowns around the circle. Those were flames surrounding the circle of haloes. The entire picture was one big sun symbol, and I knew exactly where I’d seen that same symbol before. “Oh, damn.”
    “What?” asked Remy. “What is it?”
    I groaned. “I’ll explain on the way to the airport.”
     
    ~*~
     
     
    “So?” I asked, keeping my voice light as I flipped through a rack of sweaters at an all-night Target. I grabbed a green one and tossed it into the cart, along with a few dark tank tops and some shorts and travel toiletries.
    Zane picked a red bra from a nearby table, eyed it, and then dropped it into my basket.
    I plucked it back out again and gave him a frustrated look. “Are we going to talk about this?”
    “Out here?” He gestured at the store. At three in the morning, it was nearly empty of all shoppers. The circular racks of clothing in the clothing section were currently being replenished by an old woman in a red smock who stood fifty feet away, hanging sweaters and yawning.
    “What’s wrong with here?” I asked.
    “It’s not private,” Zane said with a frown, eyeing my neck. He hadn’t yet had a chance to feed, and the bloodlust had to be driving him crazy. “We should leave.”
    “We need clothes,” I told Zane. “That includes you.”
    “The clothes here won’t fit my… appendages.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “I think you know what I mean.”
    “Oh, I think I know, you naughty man.”
    He leaned in as if sharing a secret. “I meant my wings.”
    “I didn’t.”
    He grinned.
    “You’re still naughty. And I don’t know about you, but I am not going to Colorado in this trampy dress.”
    “I like you in that trampy dress,” he mused with a smile, eyeing my figure. “Reminds me of when I first met you.”
    Man, I sure did spend a lot of time dressing up in scanty clothing around him, didn’t I? I was probably setting women’s lib back fifty years. Oh well. I’d be around for it to catch up.
    “So why’s the clothing so important?” he asked.
    “You’ll see,” I said. “Don’t change the subject. We need to talk. Now.”
    “It can wait for the plane, along