Napoleon and Illya sat at their desk drinking a cup of coffee. The Russian had scarcely spoken since leaving Waverly’s office. Now Napoleon realized the cost that had been inflicted on the stoic Russian. He was a private man, and now he had had to reveal some of the most intimate details of his life to his superior. And then, there was the emotional aspect of it. Illya was always a man who avoided sexual flings. His past relationships were serious and would have lead to marriage had it not been for his dedication to UNCLE.

“Listen, you’ll stay at my place tonight,” Napoleon said slowly.

“You mean so the succubus doesn’t have her way with me.”

“Yes. And so you can get some rest. We’ve got to solve this case and you can’t do it if you’re too tired to move.”

“I feel like I’ve been raped.” Illya stated simply.

Napoleon took a deep breath, walking over to the Russians desk and sitting down on the edge. Illya sat staring into his cup of coffee as Napoleon laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to get through this. And if you need to talk, if you need anything….”

“Illya looked up. How could I? I didn’t know her. I don’t understand. I’m so embarrassed.” Illya looked pleadingly into Napoleon’s eyes.

“We’ll find the answers. And we’ll get through this together.”

It didn’t take long to find the succubus. Napoleon waited in Illya’s apartment that night while the Russian slept peacefully at Napoleon’s apartment. Napoleon had backup in the guise of Mark who also had not been affected by the succubus probably because he had been on a mission in London.

The succubus quietly entered the darkened apartment—apparently Illya had provided a key and the access code because she had no problems getting into the apartment. Napoleon glimpsed her briefly as she walked across the room. If the average man’s idea of a succubus was a ravishing beauty, they would have been gravely disappointed. Here was an average woman, no more than five feet tall, with black hair too long for her height.

Once the succubus was in sight, Mark quickly turned the light on while Napoleon grabbed her, pushing her to the floor. She fell to the floor kicking and trying to bite. She screamed until Napoleon put his hand over her mouth. The first thing he noticed about the succubus was the intense green eyes. They were the lightest shade of green that he had ever seen.

“If you’ll stop screaming, I’ll release you,” Napoleon huffed.

She nodded her head and he slowly released her. The succubus sat up, staring warily at the men.

“Who are you?” Mark asked.

The green-eyed woman didn’t answer.

“Tell us who you are and what you are doing here?”

Again she looked from one man to the other without answering.

“Listen, we can do it the hard way, or you can simply tell us your name.” Napoleon said.

“My name is of no importance. I have a name. That’s all you need to know,” she said.

Her accent was indescribable. Napoleon had traveled all over the world and not encountered this one.

“Are you from Thrush?” Mark asked. Napoleon noticed that Mark avoided direct eye contact with her.

“Thrush,” she asked questioningly. “Where is the blond one?”

“What did you do to him?” Napoleon asked.

The woman looked silently at Napoleon.

“Your language is a difficult one,” she said slowly. “I will have the time to adapt.” The woman sat on the floor, her green eyes intently cast on Napoleon. Napoleon felt as if she were staring straight through him.

“You’re a very attractive man. I see now why they sent me for the blond one.” The woman said that as she looked directly into Solo’s eyes.

“Alright lady, who the hell are you?” Mark asked, still avoiding eye contact.

“My people have existed long before the time of yours. We live in the hills mostly, hidden from your civilization for many years. A few months ago, men came. They were much like you. They took me and brought me to this place. I will return when my duty has ended.”

Napoleon angrily pulled the woman to her feet and sat her in a nearby chair. He and Mark grabbed chairs sitting opposite of her. Both were playing the bad cop.

“Where are you from?” Napoleon asked.

“It has no name. It is the place I was taken from.”

“Stop the riddles. You drugged my friend, slept with him, and….”

“Slept,” she smiled. “We did far more than that.” She moved her hand, touching Solo’s for an instant.

The American agent moved quickly from the chair. “You’ve got handcuffs Mark?”

“Yes,” the younger man answered.”

“Better use them. We need to take her in.”

Mark looked questioningly at Napoleon, then retrieved the handcuffs and put them on the woman. She never protested the confinement.