Lord John and the Succubus – Diana Gabaldon (2003)

Lord John and the Succubus by Diana Gabaldon, published in 2003, is part of the Lord John Grey series, a spin-off from the renowned Outlander saga. Set during the Seven Years’ War in 1757, this novella blends historical fiction with gothic mystery, following Major Lord John Grey as he investigates a series of strange and sinister occurrences in the German town of Gundwitz. While war brews in the background, whispers of a demonic succubus haunting soldiers in their sleep bring Lord John into the heart of a chilling supernatural puzzle that challenges both his intellect and his personal convictions.

Plot Summary

A chilly rain had fallen for days in the village of Gundwitz, casting its muddy veil over the regimented world of Major Lord John Grey. Quartered with other officers in the aged and candlelit Schloss Lowenstein, he served as English liaison during a delicate and uncertain phase of the Seven Years’ War. Though war and logistics demanded his time, a far stranger concern began to preoccupy the town – whispers of a succubus stalking men in their sleep, draining them of life and leaving behind no visible wounds.

Grey was a man who prized reason, who regarded superstition with polite skepticism, but his sense of duty and curiosity led him to listen. The matter gained urgency when one of the dead turned out to be a soldier – not just a Prussian footman, but a man belonging to Captain Stephan von Namtzen, a man both comrade and quiet companion. The rumors had grown teeth. Townsfolk spoke of a beautiful demon that crept through dreams. And now, with bodies surfacing and a flicker of hysteria catching flame, the local Bürgermeister, Herr Blomberg, insisted on action.

Blomberg requested Grey’s white stallion for a grim task. Legend held that such a beast could sniff out the unquiet grave of a demon in disguise, a succubus nesting in the corpse of the recently dead. Though reluctant to lend his prized horse, Grey found himself at the center of an absurd procession – lanterns swinging in the dark, torches sputtering in the rain, villagers and officers trudging through the sodden churchyard.

With his young valet Tom Byrd beside him, and Karolus, the white stallion, reluctantly leading the way, Grey ventured into the cemetery. The scene grew eerie. Fog coiled around the gravestones, breath rose like mist, and ancient trees moaned in the wind. At first, the horse refused to walk, stubborn with a fear that no reasoning could soothe. But eventually, Grey mounted him and rode forward into the dark, the earth soggy beneath the hooves.

Then came the cry. Tom Byrd screamed and bolted, and Karolus took off like a cannon shot, leaping over tombs and skidding through mud until Grey managed to calm him near the edge of town. When they returned to the others, the group had found a body – an English private named Bodger, discovered not in a grave, but seated against a tombstone, dead and disheveled in a way that ignited the worst fears.

Bodger had been alive only hours earlier, arguing over coin and companionship in a tavern. Now he lay cold and slack-jawed, trousers undone, no sign of violence. But the implications were clear. The succubus, it was said, came for a man’s essence, left him empty. Grey, ever logical, dismissed the myth but could not deny the unease rising in him.

That night, back at the Schloss, Grey and von Namtzen recounted the bizarre events over roast pheasant and brandy. The air buzzed with nervous laughter and speculation. The Princess von Lowenstein, widowed, young, and flirtatious, asked what a succubus truly did. The answer – she stole a man’s seed to breed demonspawn with her incubus mate – left the room flushed and uncomfortable.

Their conversation was broken by a shriek. Something had fallen down the chimney into the hearth – a bat, blackened by fire and flailing until von Namtzen crushed it beneath his boot. The timing was uncanny, the terror contagious. Hushed murmurs swirled like smoke, but Grey kept his composure. That same night, he was pulled aside by Sir Peter Hicks, another English officer, who spoke not of demons, but of French movements. The war was creeping closer. Ruysdale’s troops must defend the bridge at Aschenwald. Grey, ever the diplomat, agreed to carry word to the colonel and perhaps lend the weight of von Namtzen’s name.

As he prepared for bed, a new disturbance came. The young heir of the Schloss, Siggy, had vanished from his nursery. Grey found the child frightened, hiding in a corridor, whispering of a witch in his room. Taking him up in his arms, Grey comforted the boy and traced his fear to a detail more real than demon-lore – an open window, a ladder against the stone wall. Someone had broken into the Schloss. The child had likely been targeted for abduction.

Grey sounded the alarm, and servants scattered to search the halls and the grounds. Though the boy was safe, the nursemaid had vanished, and no intruder was found. As the Princess tried to gather herself, Grey advised caution – the French were near, danger more real than phantom legends.

The next morning, Grey took Private Bodger’s body to Colonel Ruysdale, whose regiment was posted north of the town. The meeting proved strained. Ruysdale, proud and irritable, had little time for news of dead soldiers or demons, but the real concern was strategic. French forces were stirring, their movements vague but threatening. Grey relayed Sir Peter’s suggestion – and von Namtzen’s endorsement – that troops be shifted to defend the bridge. Though Ruysdale was reluctant, the point was made.

Back at the Schloss, the mood was taut. The grave of Herr Blomberg’s mother, recently disturbed, had been the very place where Karolus had frozen the night before. Suspicions brewed, but Blomberg refused to allow her exhumation. Pride and grief stood firmer than evidence.

Grey could not shake the sense that the ghostly trappings masked something human. The mystery had little to do with succubae and more to do with secrets, with fear, and with those who exploited both. That night, in a rare gesture of vulnerability, von Namtzen pressed a kiss to Grey’s lips – not the fraternal embrace of comrades, but something more meaningful, more tentative, like the unspoken truth between men bound by silence and circumstance.

Grey returned to his room, kissed and confused, weary from long days and stranger nights. As Tom Byrd brushed and perfumed his hair, they spoke of Bodger, of graveyards, of demons, and death. Tom, ever practical, warned against jesting with spirits, but Grey knew the real danger walked not in shadow, but among the living. He shut the door, bolted it, and drifted into sleep, secure in one certainty – of all men in Gundwitz, he alone need fear no succubus.

Main Characters

• Major Lord John Grey – An English officer and aristocrat, Lord John is a man of intelligence, wit, and deep emotional restraint. As a gay man navigating a hostile 18th-century world, he lives with a quiet strength and sharp perception. In Gundwitz, he is tasked with unraveling the mystery of a potential supernatural threat, all while managing military duties and confronting personal desires.

• Captain Stephan von Namtzen – A dashing and stoic Prussian nobleman, von Namtzen is Lord John’s military counterpart and confidant. Their relationship is layered with subtle intimacy and professional respect, hinting at deeper emotional undercurrents. His superstition contrasts with Lord John’s rationalism, adding complexity to their dynamic.

• Tom Byrd – Lord John’s young valet, practical and loyal, often provides moments of levity amid the eerie tension. Though wary of supernatural talk, Tom’s experiences ground the story in human reactions to fear and folklore.

• Princess von Lowenstein – The widowed hostess at Schloss Lowenstein, she exudes charm and wit, and shares a mutual flirtation with Lord John. Her presence introduces elements of courtly intrigue and underscores the theme of appearances versus reality.

• Herr Blomberg – The superstitious and stubborn Bürgermeister of Gundwitz, Blomberg is determined to root out the succubus he believes is tormenting his town. His zeal drives the investigation into increasingly absurd—and revealing—territory.

Theme

• Rationalism vs. Superstition – Central to the narrative is the tension between Enlightenment-era logic and lingering medieval beliefs. Lord John’s skeptical perspective is challenged by widespread belief in the supernatural, prompting reflections on fear, truth, and the power of myth.

• Sexuality and Identity – Lord John’s identity as a closeted gay man informs much of his inner life. His interactions—especially with von Namtzen—explore the perilous yet poignant pursuit of connection in a world that forbids it, adding emotional depth and quiet longing to the story.

• War and Death – Set during a brutal military campaign, the novella does not shy away from the bleak realities of war: disease, fear, and constant death. These elements form a grim backdrop, reinforcing the soldiers’ desperation to find meaning—or an explanation—in tales of demons.

• Masks and Facades – Many characters, like the Princess and even Lord John himself, navigate social expectations by donning metaphorical masks. The motif underscores the duplicity of human behavior and the mysteries people carry beneath composed exteriors.

Writing Style and Tone

Gabaldon’s writing in Lord John and the Succubus is richly textured, steeped in historical detail, and subtly laced with dry humor. Her narrative voice balances elegance with grittiness, weaving vivid descriptions of military life, eerie atmospherics, and the minutiae of 18th-century etiquette. Dialogue is crisp and character-driven, often revealing undercurrents of tension or affection without overt declaration.

The tone blends gothic suspense with a pragmatic rationality embodied by Lord John himself. While strange events unfold with uncanny timing and mystique, the novella never fully plunges into the supernatural. Instead, it maintains an aura of ambiguity, flirting with the idea of ghosts and demons while grounding the narrative in political machinations and human psychology. Gabaldon masterfully keeps readers on edge, questioning whether the true horror lies in myths—or in the darker corners of men’s hearts.