Succubus Seduction

The cobblestones of Oakhaven gleamed, not with the usual sheen of honest rain, but with a slick, unnatural luminescence. A sickly sweet perfume, like overripe lilies and cheap wine, hung heavy in the air, clinging to Bishop Dark’s coat like a second skin. It was the kind of scent that promised pleasure and delivered ruin, a siren song for fools and the damned. He’d smelled it before, usually on the breath of men who’d lost their fortunes, their families, and their very souls in one night of misguided indulgence. This time, however, the scent was emanating from the town itself.

"Bloody hell," Bishop muttered, spitting onto the pristine, glowing street. "Someone’s let their libido run away with them. And judging by the smell, it’s got fangs."

Abbott Kale’s summons had been curt, as usual. "Rogue succubus. Town of Oakhaven. Feeding. Badly. Get it done, Bishop." No preamble, no niceties. Just the blunt, unvarnished truth of the Church's eternal problem: evil things doing evil things, and Bishop Dark being the one they grudgingly called upon to clean up the mess. He’d accepted the coin, of course, and the promise of a decent bottle of something strong later. A skin payment might even be on the table if this particular creature was particularly… cooperative.