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by Rick R. Reed
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Dark Fantasy
Description: What if...a stranger with a knife ripped away the love of your life?
What if...that love came back to you?
What if...that love looked the same, but you knew it couldn't really be him?
Incubus is the haunting--and haunted--tale of Oliver and Ryan, a young couple who have traveled to Montreal from Chicago to get married. It's late and they're on their way home from their honeymoon, and their trip on Chicago's el trains and subways is fraught with strange characters, one a biker-jacket-clad man who urges them to "Get close to Lucifer!" But the oddest stranger they encounter is a man in a zippered leather mask who waits for them in an underground parking garage with a knife. Only one of the men will emerge from this encounter alive.
Oliver's depression overwhelms him, having seen his hope for a new life with his new husband squashed in an instant. He feels so alone. Or is he? When Ryan begins to appear to him again in the dark, and to make love to him, Oliver is happy...and in denial. He ignores this new Ryan's cold touch, his strange eyes, and the odd burns Ryan's touch leaves on his skin.
Has Oliver's despair and desire for his lost love opened a door to something dark and terrifying? Is the Ryan who returns to him really the Ryan he loves, or a demonic imposter? And when love is brutally ripped away, will Oliver decide it doesn't matter?
With Incubus, Rick R. Reed merges his talent for horror with a tragic love story and the result is...chilling...
Genres: Gay / Dark Fantasy / Horror / Paranormal / Psychic Phenomena
eBook Publisher: Amber Quill Press, 2009
eBookwise Release Date: January 2010
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [44 KB]
Reading time: 22-31 min.
"...The writing is tight and their is a feel of Alice in Wonderland at times...The beauty of the ending is, one can interpret it anyway they want...Each reader can take something from it and twist it into what they believe...A good story..."--Shaz, Rainbow Reviews
"Oliver? Honey, are you in there?"
Oliver held his breath. His mother hadn't been over in at least two weeks. The last time she had insisted on cleaning the place and cooking her son a meal. Oliver didn't think he could bear his mother's pained expression as she surveyed the mess of the apartment and the lack of interest her son had in life. He couldn't stand his mother's wounded brown eyes, as she went through the apartment, picking up clothes, throwing away junk mail, sorting through the bills, and wiping down sinks and countertops.
The knock came again, louder, a hollow echo. "Oliver, please open up. It's Mom. Please...I'm worried about you."
Oliver had just begun to breathe normally again when he heard the jingle of keys. Oh no...
The air rushed out of the room as his mother fitted the key in the lock.
He panicked...a wild animal caught in a trap.
Just as the tumblers clicked, Oliver rushed into the bedroom and scurried under the bed. Safety in the darkness, with Ryan's Nikes and the dust balls.
Perhaps he would stay under the bed awhile. It was nice there.
Footsteps clicked on hardwood. Sensible, low-heeled pumps. Oliver imagined her: salt and pepper hair pulled up, dark skirt and a light cardigan with pearl buttons.
"Oliver?" The word came out shaky, and Oliver bit his lip. "Please don't cry, Mother," he whispered. "If you cry, I will be forced to slide out from under here and I like it here. I like it."
After a while, the door closed, tumblers sounded once more.
Oliver slid out. Day's brightness watered down at last to a dull orange glow. He sneezed and sat on the bed, looking down at his sweat pants covered with dust balls. He slid them off and lay back.
Ryan's baseball cap sat on his pillow. Oliver lifted it, fingering the wales in the corduroy, biting his lower lip. He had gone back the next day, numb, a zombie, to the parking garage where Ryan had been taken from him. Oliver didn't understand why he would want to return. Perhaps to reassure himself that everything had really happened. Perhaps seeing the bright yellow police line tape and the chalk outline of his husband's body would make it real.
Or maybe it was just to find the hat he now caressed. It had blown into a corner, or had been propelled there from the scuffle.
However it had gotten there, Oliver was grateful it had been he who had found it. Grateful it had not been put in some sterile Ziploc bag by a police evidence technician.
Oliver imagined he could still smell Ryan's hair in the brim of the cap. He held it close, remembering the faint strawberry scent of Ryan's shampoo.
And then Ryan was there, in his arms once more. And Oliver was kissing him, and he was gazing down. Their eyes locked for an instant before his face found Ryan's neck and he felt the cool damp of Ryan's tears.
Oliver clutched Ryan's back, holding on so tightly he was afraid he might hurt him, but also afraid if he let go he would lose him once more, that he would vanish, like smoke.
Then, as quickly as he had come, Ryan was gone, leaving Oliver holding a dusty navy blue corduroy cap and wondering if anything was real.
Inside the cap lay a single strand of blond hair. Oliver plucked it out, certain it had never been there before.