Slow Burn

by Tamara Vincent

  Giso nodded.

  Léa’s large clawed hand took Giso’s arm and gently lifted it. “Your armpit,” the vampire whispered softly. “Where nobody will see.”

  Her mouth opened wide, and Giso closed her eyes. The sharp teeth pierced her skin, and she shuddered, and moaned. It was merely a moment, two skipped heartbeats.

  Léa straightened, and smiled. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

  Giso nodded, dazed.

  With a smile, Léa ran one of her talon along the aureole of her nipple. Dark blood dripped out of the cut. Giso closed her mouth on the pale flesh, and sucked. Léa was shaken by a frisson, and pulled the head of the beast-woman closer.

  “This will be our little secret,” Léa purred.

  When she released her, both she and Giso shared a deep satisfied sigh, like lovers breaking their embrace after a long kiss.

  Giso groaned, and moved her arm, the pierced skin itching.

  IT WILL HEAL SOON. The voice resounded in Giso’s head. It was close, intimate. She looked sharply at Léa. I CAN FEEL IT TOO. IT WILL HURT UNTIL TOMORROW.

  “Anything else you can feel?” Giso smirked, rubbing herself against the vampire.

  Léa collected a single drop of blood hanging from her nipple, and sucked it. The cut on her breast was already healing. “Here on the ground?” she asked, with a chuckle.

  Giso grasped her boobs, and squeezed. “That’s the way of my people,” she said, and pushed the vampire against the wall, her thigh pushed between her legs.

  “I thought you didn’t like me.”

  Giso chuckled. “Now I do.”

  Twenty-two – New Order

  “What the fuck is happening?” Havisa blurted.

  The fire had gone, leaving her on her bed, stark naked, and totally baffled. On the bed in front of her, Renilla giggled. “I like it when you say fuck!”

  The redhead was on all fours now, staring hungrily at Havi. Havi squinted. Ren was different. She had watched as her friend was consumed by the strange fire, screaming without sound. Now the flames had retreated and Ren’s hair was falling to her waist, a much brighter copper. Ren’s face was also different.

  The brunette turned to the two strange women, that were still holding each other, by the door. “What the fuck is happening?” she asked again.

  Godelina gasped, and Havi turned.

  Gracia was standing in the aisle between the two rows of beds. She was naked, a huge mane of blonde and blue curls cascading down her back, and her tits were enormous.

  “This is so cool!” the blonde said, squeezing her melons. There was a tattoo between her shoulder and her neck.

  “Gracie got titties!” Ren exclaimed.

  “Gracia!” Godelina babbled. “What—happened to you?”

  “It is the power of the Blue Flame,” the woman Gisla said. She cleared her throat, and she disentangled herself from Mistress Maeva’s embrace.

  “Why did it not work on the other two?” the nun asked.

  Havi glanced at Ren, that was still staring hungrily at her. Her eyes glowed faintly in the half-light. Some of the dark patches on her skin were not shadows, she realized, but tattoos. Catching her look, the redhead winked and made a show of licking her lips.

  “The Flame transforms only those that share the blood of Bellegarde.”

  Havi stared at Ren. Renilla the daughter of the baker was related to the Dukes? This was crazy. And then—

  Havi turned just as “But—!” Godelina gasped, staring at her transformed sister. “What does this mean?”

  Gracia snorted. “It means that mother is a slut,” she said with a grin.

  Havi laughed, despite herself.

  “But don’t worry,” Gracia sat on her sister’s bed and ran a hand up her calf. “We are sluts too.”

  Godelina squealed and pulled her leg back. Gracia laughed. “Don’t be so shy, half-sister!” She climbed on the bed. She was still plump, but all softness had gone from her body. “You’re going to like it.”

  Gisla was now standing by Renilla’s bed. Ren was rubbing herself against her side, purring like a cat, but her glowing eyes were fixed on Havisa.

  On the cot, Godelina gasped. Her sister was pushing her down on the mattress, one knee between her legs, her two-tone hair falling as a curtain over Godelina’s face.

  Mistress Maeva took two strides to Havisa’s bed.

  “What about me?” the brunette asked.

  “What about you?” the nun echoed her. She had long blue nails rimmed in gold. “You can either join our order, or leave the monastery. The choice is yours.”

  From the bed, the gasping and moaning of the sisters had acquired a slow, regular, mounting rhythm. Renilla was still staring at Havisa.

  “Of course,” Mistress Maeva said, caressing the nape of her head, “we’d rather you to stay.”

  Havi looked up at her, at the beautiful, proud face past the twin domes of those arrogant boobs. “Do I get the tattoos, too?” she asked with a smirk.

  Interlude

  “Shitty weather,” Ulf said, in a low voice. He pulled his cloak closer, bending down against the wind.

  “This is better be something,” Bernt replied.

  They had followed Bossu in one of his mid-week night outings, through the deserted streets of Saonne and beyond the town’s edge. They had left the ghostly vineyards behind, and entered the forbidding woodland that stretched between the town and the pass of Lo.

  The woods were dark and chilly, the trees bending under the continuous impetus of the wind. Gerard walked three steps in front of them, a shadow in the shadows.

  “At least there’s no fog,” Ulf said.

  “And to think I could be warm and cozy between Genò’s thighs,” his companion said.

  Ulf snorted.

  In front of them, the faint halo of Bossu’s lantern was dancing to and fro as the man marched steadily along a shepherd’s path.

  Gerard stopped. Ulf and Bernt joined him.

  “What’s up?” the short man said.

  “Smell the wind,” Gerard replied.

  “Smoke,” Ulf said.

  The captain nodded.

  “Some woodland cottage,” Bernt snickered. “Bossu is poking a lumberjack.”

  Gerard grimaced. “I don’t like it.”

  “But maybe the lumberjack does,” Bernt said.

  They started again, swords in hand, and more careful than before. They left the path and proceeded through the trees, careful not to make any noise.

  A faint haze rippled in the distance.

  The three men traded a glance.

  A few hundred yards, and they found themselves at the outskirts of a camp.

  Bernt waved his hand. He lifted his left hand, and circled his fist with his right index fingers. Then with two fingers pointed at his eyes. Gerard nodded. Bernt disappeared in the shadows. Gerard and Ulf squatted in the pool of darkness at the feet of a large oak, and observed the fires and the tents, and the black banner with five silver stars fluttering in the wind.

  The beating of great wings startled them. A large shadow with leathery wings crossed the path of the moon, and descended on the camp in a tight circle.

  Bernt plopped down by their side without a sound.

  Another flying beast glided over their head, followed by a third. With a quick look at each other, they traced their steps back, as fast as they could.

  They had found what they had come to look for.

  Part 3 - Invaders

  Twenty-three - Messenger

  The ring of metal on metal echoed in the courtyard of Bellegarde. Rough voices shouted in response to the fighters moves.

  Cook’s hammer slammed on the flagstones, spraying slush around. Coline rolled away, and stood while her adversary groaned and pulled up her weapon again.

  The redhead hissed and slid forward on the wet ground, and her short sword drew a red line on Cook’s side. In the front of the circle of guards, beast-men and camp-followers that were enjoying the show, B
erthe gasped and then shouted a raucous encouragement to her lover.

  The giantess cursed and swept at Coline with her hammer. The captain of the Guard parried with her short sword, but the force of the blow was enough to numb her hand and send the weapon clattering seven steps away.

  Cook grinned. “What now, red?” she chuckled.

  Her hammer sought Coline two, three times, sending shivers through the ground whenever it missed. Coline jumped back, but her adversary had maneuvered between her and her weapon.

  Coline’s white shirt stuck to her skin, wet for the melted snow in which she had been rolling, and the sweat of the exertion. Her nipples showed through the soaked fabric. She was breathing heavily.

  Cook grinned and charged.

  Berthe felt a thrill. “Go, lover, go!”

  Coline ducked, pushed herself inside Cook’s guard, and punched her viciously in her armpit, while with her other hand she grabbed her right arm. Cook let out an obscenity, and the hammer slipped her grasp. Coline smirked and punched her in the face.

  Cook laughed and punched back.

  “Break the bitch!” Berthe shouted.

  Someone in the crowd squeezed her ass. Berthe laughed, and leaned against her unknown admirer.

  A second punch sent Coline rolling on the ground, moaning.

  Cook came forward, her hammer forgotten, and made to grab her. Coline scuttled away on all fours, grasped her short sword and cut a fiery red line across the giantess’ hand. Cook cursed and pulled her hands back.

  Coline grinned and crouched, ready to strike.

  Shouts from the gates stopped her.

  The circle of watchers groaning and cursing, both Coline and Cook turned to look at the covered entrance hall, through which a horse was entering at a canter, carrying a black-clad rider.

  Coline gasped, and dropped her sword. She pushed through the crowd as the man got off his horse, standing uncertain on his legs.

  “What happened?” Coline shouted.

  Bernt shook his head, but she was already on him. She grasped him by the front of his shirt and lifted him bodily up, her bruised face in his. “Where is Gerard?” she shouted.

  “I have bad news,” the short man said.

  Coline shook him like a rag doll. “What happened to my man?!” she barked, a crazy light in her eyes.

  “Gerard lives,” Bernt was able to say. She dropped him, panting.

  “The captain was fine the last time I saw him,” he repeated. “But we have lost Saonne.”

  Twenty-four - Attic

  Genò dropped a burlap sack on the attic’s floor, and then she pulled herself through the trapdoor. Ulf stood over her, guarding the access hatch. She closed it and sighed. She was wearing a number of shawls, covering her shoulders and her hair.

  “I’ve brought some provisions,” she said.

  By the gable window, Gerard nodded. “We owe you,” he said quietly.

  She snorted. “You can thank me by sharing your apartments,” she said. She quickly kicked off her wet shoes and, barefooted, made her way to a big trunk in a corner, and sat on it. She pulled her legs up, crossing them. “I am no longer a citizen in good standing of this community.”

  Ulf rolled his eyes. No wonder Bernt was smitten by the girl. She spoke in a complicated way just like him.

  Gerard sat in front of her, and Ulf sat on the floor by the trap door. “What is going on?” Gerard asked.

  Genò shrugged. “The Five Stars have the town and the surrounding countryside, but this you knew already.”

  It was a week now that the men of the Hierophant had made their move against Saonne, finding the population not only unprepared to face, but somewhat willing to accept their new masters.

  “Fools,” Ukf snorted.

  “Peasants,” Genò spat. “What did you expect?”

  She shook her head, and shrugged off the shawl covering her hair. “Women are not allowed to walk alone the streets,” sh said, “unless they are part of the Five Star army. A few have joined. The widow Hebras was the first, she was made a lance corporal, in charge of the training of the new recruits. Tight-ass prude, she’s still proud as a peacock, but struts in black and red uniform instead of silken dresses.”

  “And she’s an instructor?” Ulf said.

  The wench shrugged. “She keeps the poor bastards running and has them fight each other with quarterstaves.”

  Ulf grinned at Gerard. “Militia.”

  “It’s to keep the population quiet.” Gerard replied. “Makes the supporters of the Crusade happy, and the rest worried. What of our host?”

  They had found a hideaway in the attic of Bossu’s inn. He place had been shut down when the Five Stars had taken the city and enforced the curfew, and they had seen no sign of the man since.

  Genò snorted. “The fucker’s got his recompense for preparing the way,” she said. “He was given the Alméras house, on Market Square, after madame Alméras was branded—”

  “Branded?” Ulf asked. He cast a glance at Gerard.

  “Yeah, branded,” Genò said, shedding her shawls. She turned her back to him and pulled down her chemise. There was a red patch of swollen, burned skin, five black stars in a ring.

  “Shit,” Ulf hissed.

  “All unmarried women over the age of twenty got this nice tattoo,” Genò said, pulling her garment up. She grimaced. “It hurts. And it means you’re free for the taking, and can’t owe anything in your name—”

  “It means there is a Black Priest in town,” Gerard said. “They are the only ones allowed to brand the sinners.”

  “Tall, rail-thin, mad eyes,” she said, “a black habit with a golden pendant on his chest, five stars around an eye.”

  “That’s him.”

  Ulf cursed. “So you were right.”

  “He took all the children, and brought them to the Venerable Claire temple,” Genò said.

  “They will be indoctrinated,” Gerard said. “This means the Hierophant is planning to stay for a while in Saonne.”

  “They are building barricades along the main streets,” Genò said. “The town is being turned into a fucking fortress.”

  Gerard nodded. “The invasion has begun five months before we expected.”

  Twenty-five - Council

  “We have been stupid,” Liane said. There was bitterness in her voice.

  “And we are wasting time,” Coline added.

  Both women were pacing the floor like trapped tigers, Liane in her blue and gold jacket and striped pants, Coline in a white shirt and a pair of black leather trousers.

  They were holding council in the Duchess’ private chambers.

  “Recriminating is useless,” Adele said. She was sitting on her throne-like chair, wrapped in a blue and gold dressing gown. Gisla was standing by her side, holding her crooked staff, and Liuva and Giso were squatting on the floor. Bélise had remained in Beinot, supervising the establishment of the Order of the Flame, and Léa was holding court in Nys. Marie was standing by the door, waiting for the Duchess’ orders, and she looked at the only man present, Bernt, and licked her lips pensively. For his part, the short southerner stared at the women, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “It is captain Gerard’s opinion,” he said, “that the plan always was to establish two beachheads, and hold both Tavin and Saonne, and the two passes. The only difference is, in Saonne the Five Stars commander decided not to take the town, but camped outside of it, and looked for agents among the population.” He scowled. “Also, with hindsight, in Tavin half the force was mercenaries.”

  “Experienced,” said Adele.

  “Expendable,” Liane and Coline said together.

  “Tavin was a decoy from the beginning,” Bernt nodded. “This is the boss’—I mean, the captain’s opinion.”

  “And when we took back Tavin,” Liane said, “they let us gloat, and went on with their original strategy. And now Saonne is lost, and the Lo pass is open.”

  “Not lost,” Gisla
said, “but taken. How many men do you reckon has the Hierophant in Saonne?”

  Bernt shrugged. “We estimated about three hundred men, all infantry—”

  Liane cursed.

  “—and a wing of flying creatures. We only saw those at night, and from a distance.”

  “Drakes of some kind,” Gisla said. “And with such a force, it is likely Black Priests is there too.”

  They all had heard stories about the mystical servants of the Hierophant, and not even the transformation granted by the Blue Flame made those tales less repulsive.

  “Th Guard can move in two hours,” Coline said, urgently. “Why do we waste time in speculation? We can regain the town, and push the bastards back—”

  “Stop thinking with your twat and use your brain,” Liane smirked.

  Her sister turned to her, her face contorted in an angry grimace. “You stupid bitch—!”

  “Enough!” Adele snapped.

  She shook her head. “I am sure we’d all enjoy a cat-fight between the two of you, but this is not the moment.”

  An awkward silence fell on the assembly.

  “Captain Gerard,” Bernt said, slowly and carefully, “decided to remain in Saonne in order to be able to work behind the lines when the time will come. I took the horses and the Five Stars think we all fled the town.” He looked at Coline. “But he is safe, and ready for battle.”

  She snorted.

  “So they expect us,” Liane said, ignoring her sister, “but don’t know there’s a dagger at their throat.”

  “But what can just two men do?” Adele asked.

  “And how do we know for sure they are still safe?” Coline added.

  “They have help,” Bernt said.

  The captain of the guard tossed her red hair and arched her eyebrows. “Who?”

  “Not all have turned their coat,” Bernt said. “Many in town are still loyal to Bellegarde. And there’s a woman—”