Legends by DD Agent
I do not own Scream of the Banshee or any of its characters, or its settings - all belongs to the folks at Syfy.
I was making pretty Lauren Holly things from SotB and this fic came to me. Came out slightly differently then what I had in mind - it was supposed to be a drabble! I hope you enjoy nevertheless. : )
He was a professor of Folk Lore and Fairy tales at UCLA; so when she had had too many beers and started rambling on about the Banshee, he had looked interested and not at all horrified. He had bought her another drink and listened to her story, listened to how she and her daughter had had to move after the mysterious deaths of so many people. When she had started to cry about the events that had happened, he had put an arm around her and had taken her back to her hotel room to cry in peace.
His name was Stephen Witter, and he was currently sitting on the sofa of her hotel room while she dozed the alcohol induced madness off. Shayla would call soon, wanting to know if her mother was okay after deciding to go away for a two day conference out of the blue. Her baby girl was still traumatised after the death of her boyfriend, and so soon after her father. Isla hadn't really wanted to leave her, but she needed to stop feeling like she was the one buried. She was alive. There were countless friends who were not.
She stirred after an hour's nap and turned to a smiling Stephen who had waited to make sure she was okay. God, she felt so embarrassed. This was the first time she had had a man in her bedroom since Tom had passed away. She had gone to dinner with Samuel, but he was still suffering from post traumatic stress after the loss of his fingers. Trust her to start bawling to the first man who bought her a drink.
"Thank you for bringing me up here, Stephen. I'm sorry for being so…forgive me?" Isla asked from the bed, running a hand over her red hair.
Stephen waved his hand in a don't-worry-about-it gesture and moved onto the bed to join her. He was older than her, greying but handsome. And he was nice, something she had definitely been lacking after the trauma of the last few months. "Don't feel embarrassed, Isla. And just so you know, I believe you about the Banshee, I really do. I guess when you're a professor of Folk Lore you believe in anything, but personally I think you could find a better story for those scars."
He ran a finger over the three marks like claws that marred her face. Her breath caught as he continued to stroke her cheek. Stephen reached behind her and undid the ponytail her hair was always in and let loose her red hair. She shook it over her shoulders.
"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"
Isla smirked under his fingertips. "Not lately."
"That's a damn shame."
He leaned in to kiss her, his eyes sparkling, but Isla pressed one hand on his chest and pushed him away. The alcohol had worn off and her judgement had returned - she wasn't ready to spend the night with a sexy professor of the weird and wonderful. Something glinted in his eyes at her rejection, something that wasn't quite…human. If she hadn't had firsthand experience of the supernatural, she would have written it off as a person she needed to call security on. But this man was something else, something that made her shiver.
"What are you?"
The man pulled away from her and threw himself down on the bed. He looked up at her, grinning. His eyes were now impossibly blue, almost electric. She really did find him attractive, and despite knowing she shouldn't, that this man was bad news, she found herself shedding her jacket and moving over his body. He grinned with every movement until Isla found her lips over his, daringly close to kissing him.
"Professor Isla Whelan, in the flesh. There's a reason why you're a legend amongst us."
He put both his hands behind his head while she looked over him, for some reason her hand stroking him through his shirt. Suddenly he used his legs to spin her onto her back. Isla had the air knocked out of her as she found her hands being pinned above her head, one of them moving to push her leg around his waist.
"You captured a Banshee, Professor Whelan - can I still call you Isla? I really want to call you Isla." He moved up from nuzzling her neck to look straight into her eyes, and Isla felt herself growing weaker. "For…creatures like us, that's an incredible thing for a human to do. We were all really quite impressed. So when I saw your name down for this conference, I knew I had to go."
He moved back to her neck, and Isla felt a graze of his teeth on her neck. She discovered the strength to push him off and she rolled back on top. This time she pinned his hands, digging them into the pillows. He growled at her, and then smirked at the cleavage on show.
"I'll ask again. What are you?"
He used his hands to pull up her waist as he dragged his body up. She was now on his lap, straddling him. She tried to avoid looking into his eyes, instead moving to his neck as she seemed to feel better when she wasn't looking directly at him. She then started looking for bite scars. "You a Vampire?"
Stephen - if that was his real name - scoffed. "What is your society's obsession with Vampires? They've been extinct for centuries; no one cares about the walking dead anymore. You want to do some more guessing?"
"You want my knee in a place I'm sure you'd rather keep?"
His hand went around her neck and dragged it back so she would look in his eyes. She kept them closed. "Good. You're learning. I'm an Incubus, Isla."
She opened her eyes in confusion, and was glad to see that his were back to their normal shade of blue. She felt herself instantly growing stronger. However, whatever physical strength this creature possessed was greater than her own, and Isla found herself dragged to the bed again, being held by the Incubus. She tried to recall what she had found out about Incubi when she had been determined to know more about things like the Banshee, and researched the supernatural across the board.
Incubi and Succubae would take human form to seduce men and women in an effort to drain them of their life energy and in order to sustain themselves. There was plenty of folklore about them, the same as the Banshee. Sometimes they would appear as dwarves who would lure young virgins away. They were very dangerous, and Isla now had one in her hotel room. This was just her luck.
"You going to sex me to death, Professor?"
He chuckled. "Tempting…very tempting, Isla." He trailed a hand down her neck and over her breasts. Against her better judgement, she leant her head back and groaned. It had been too long since anyone had touched her like that, but she knew having sex with an Incubus was not the best choice she could make for her first time since her late husband.
"So what do you intend to do to me?"
He smiled, and Isla wondered if it was only when his eyes were electric that his charm was on. They were ice blue currently, but Isla still felt herself attracted to him. "I may be the first of us to contact you, Isla, but I won't be the last. You got yourself on the map when you captured that Banshee, and you opened yourself up to a world that is going to fuck with your head. Probably should have let it kill you."
"Then you wouldn't have the pleasure of my company."
He stroked her face and moved a hand into her hair. "This is very true, and I am really enjoying this evening. Drinks with a beautiful woman always make me smile. I want to help you, Isla. I want to be there in case any of us try and get to you. Because they will. Some will try and kill you; some will try and fuck you. Most will try and eat you."
She rolled her eyes, trying to hide how scared she was. It seemed that the nightmare with the Banshee was only the beginning. "What do you want from me?"
Stephen ran a finger down the curve of her neck. "Don't worry, Isla, I like you. I don't want to consume your immortal soul for lunch. I'm writing a new book on myths and legends in North America and I need an editor."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You're kidding me."
"Not all of us are killing, fucking, eating machines. Although the first two can be good." He grinned. "Isla, I just need an editor. I need someone who can point out where I'm going too far, and where fiction may start to look like fact."
She turned away from him, realising that unfortunately this was not the weirdest evening of her life. His proposition could be a scam, a ploy, an attempt for her to drop her guard and kill her himself. But Isla had felt like something had been watching her the last couple of weeks, and whether it had been Stephen the Soul Sucker or something else she wasn't sure. Either way, she could use someone who didn't need four people, a medieval box and a shot gun to take out what went bump in the night.
"Okay, it's a deal. But you don't lay a hand on my daughter, and you don't let anything lay a hand on her either."
"Great!" He reached up and pulled her down by her neck, planting his lips on her mouth. They moved together languidly, his tongue forcing its way in to tangle with hers. She bit his lip, fascinated by how he tasted. He nibbled on her bottom one, before letting her go. "Don't look so pissy - that's how Incubi seal deals. Well, usually there's a lot less clothes but I'd like this to remain a mostly professional relationship."
"Really?" She looked at him with sarcasm written all over her face. The fact that she was getting used to the weird and wonderful scared her.
He spun her under him again, his eyes remaining ice but his hands not remaining to himself. They fluttered over her skin, before tangling themselves in her hair. "I'll try and be a very good boy, I promise Isla. I meant what I said, though. You are incredibly beautiful." He nuzzled her neck again, nipping gently at her skin. "So beautiful."
Her phone rang, signalling a call from her daughter. Isla broke from his grip and reached over to answer it, happy to hear her daughter's voice. When she turned back, Stephen was gone. She didn't think her life could get any weirder, but she was sure it could and it would. When she got back home, as well as spending time with Shayla, she needed to get new shells for her shotgun.